A matter of time...

Where does wasted time go?

Is there a graveyard for it?

A place where a person can pluck it off the shelf, dust it off and use it up more wisely?

Maybe even hand my wasted time over to a person or pet that's dying.

Like bestowing a gift.

I think of all the time that I have wasted in my life ...and I feel like weeping.

But then, I wonder--was it really wasted?

If I wasnt constantly in motion, producing something or thinking deeply, does that nullify the fact that I just....was?

Being me. Isnt that enough?

We are all just part of the fabric that will eventually fade. Muted colors will whiten and vibrant colors will pale. New fabric will be woven, stronger and different--but never exactly like the previous.

In my recent downtime, I discovered that time marches on, with or without us in it.

The passage of time is the only constant in the here and now.

.....tick tock....tides turning....leaves falling....newborn babies...

You know, much as I hate change--I wouldnt have it any other way.

A Matter of Trust

I've been thinking about trust lately.
Some people are able to give trust right away.
They simply overlook any past difficulties and blaze through relationships with an innocent heart.
How I envy those people. They look at the world with a child's eye. They love without reservation, without misgivings.

I'm not one to give trust freely.
It must be earned.
Guarded, protected.

Any little thing can tip the balance and I tend to run when trust is breached.
I dont want to, but the consequences of not trusting someone in my world can be huge.

Wouldnt it be great if we all looked at people like a 6 year old does?

A smile. A recognition. Maybe even a grubby hand holding mine.
Innocence lost.
When there is no more trust.

Send in the Clowns

Wes and I were having a discussion yesterday at lunch.

I had noticed something about myself, him and others that we know and in a flash--it became apparent to me what we were onto.

Anyway...Here's the observation:

One way or another, a person's needs get met.

They do. If someone truely needs something in their life, they will do everything in their power to make sure that need is met. I'm talking emotional, spiritual, sexual, physical needs (yes, I said sexual in this blog, try to calm down, OK?).

For example--if "Bob" main need is another's approval, he will make sure he accomplishes a task (or 10) that meets with great approval from the masses. He'll get what he desires.

Once that need is quenched, another will rise and take it's place.

And so it goes.

It was quite a lunch, I tell ya.

Quite a lunch.

Hands of Time

I'm sure you've noticed that I haven't been writing in here lately.

Nothing wrong--I just have been enjoying the summer, seeing friends, redecorating and painting rooms and working. A LOT.

I've been filling in for vacationing dental hygienists in my office and since there are 6 of us--I've been kinda swamped.

I like my office, I like (most) of my patients...but 5 days a week is pretty tough.

My back hurts, my shoulder and neck is all crinked up and my hand aches.

Now I understand why hygienists typically only work 2-3 days a week!

Soooo..instead of whining about it in here, I simply didn't write.

Then, I saw how long it had been and I had guilt.

So I didn't write.

I'm feeling better again

Look for more posts, I think I'm back for good.

Unless I get invite to a BBQ.

That comes first.

(Relax--I kid you! I KID!)

Survival of the Fittest

Yesterday in the mail I received a catalog.

I get a lot of catalogs, since I do quite a bit of online shopping--I get so sick of constantly being bombarded with advertisements and junk mail.

However--this particular catalog caught my eye.

It was from http://www.thereadystore.com/

In this catalog you can buy disaster relief items.

Stuff like dehydrated foods, packaged water, bucket toilets, tents, etc.

I was tempted to purchase a few things.

I was.

I mean--look what happened to the people who relied on the government after Hurricaine Katrina hit Louisiana.

Humans died there because they weren't prepared.

They thought they would be rescued, but help never came for them.

I'm not sure what would happen here in my little town. We don't have tornadoes. We're too far inland for a big wave to engulf us. We had had a few earthquakes, but nothing like Southern California. Heck--even the flooding here is fairly polite.

After reading this magazine with their not-so-subtle warnings about global disasters and slick pictures of beautiful (all white, I noticed) children....well, I'm probably being lured to the dark side of survivalism--but damn, it's tempting to lay in a few supplies.

Just a few.

Just for my family. And my dogs. And me.

That way, when there are nuclear waste addled zombies outside the perimeter of my house trying to get in, we'll be well fed, well rested, alert and prepared to fight them off.

Besides, the dehydrated blueberry crumble looks pretty good.

Marital Bliss

Are there any great love stories out there anymore?

I mean REALLY great love stories?

I don't think I can name even one right now.

Once in awhile I talk to an elderly man or woman who has been married 50+ years.

They glow with an inner peace. They are proud they've lasted as long as they did. They are happy to tell me all about the companionship they've experienced with their partner.

The homes they lived it. The jobs they had. The family they raised.

But what kind of struggles did they have before they made it to senior citizenship?

Was there an affair? Furious tears? Distance in the relationship? Angry arguments? Stony silence?

Which one of them loved the other more?

Who was willing to sacrifice their own ideals and goals to continue the marriage?

Which one of them finally was able to give enough to make it to 50 years?

Does that matter?

I think it does..... to the person who made the sacrifice, anyway.

Dreadlocks vs Suits

He had a headful of nasty,dirty, long dreadlocks.

He was dressed in a tie dyed tshirt, dirty shorts and flip flops.

He had a full beard that he'd laced a few colorful beads into.

My patient yesterday sat down in my chair and announced he wouldn't be chatting with me because he had his ipod in his ears and it would be 'groovy' if he could 'tune out'.

OH.

Welllll.....OH.

He also brought his two boys, ages 5 and 8 into the room with us.

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. I kind of felt sad for those two kids. I mean--what kind of a Dad was this guy? He obviously must not care for them well..or do anything conventional...or ....or...or...

During the 2 hours we had together, I found this guy to be perfectly wonderful. As the appointment progressed, I started seeing him, not a some dirty hippie type--but as a loving, involved Dad.

I found out he was a stay-at-home Dad, and he raises organic eggs and vegetables. He also volunteers his time during the school year in the Kindergarten class and the 2nd grade class. He explained to me that 'some of the kids don't have Dads in the house, and I think it's important they have a positive male role model--so I help out."

You know--I would take this guy ANY time over the well dressed (read: gorgeous) man who sat in my chair on Tuesday. The more that guy talked, name dropped, and whined--the uglier he got in my eyes. I couldn't wait to get finished with his cleaning. I scheduled him with another hygienist for his next appointment. Yikes, what a miserable scrap of humanity!

So what was the difference?

I believe the real man in my chair was the guy who wore the dreadlocks all the way to his waist.

Plus--he's bringing me organic eggs next week when I see him.

Mad Mags

Much ado has been made about our newest Scottish Terrier, Dewey.

Lest we forget wee, sweet 9 year old Maggie ... Well, I felt she must be mentioned.

She's the Scottie on the right. At the time this photo was taken, we had taken them both to the beach house. Dewey had been with us for 3 weeks.

The look in her eyes says it all, doesn't it?

After much fussing about when Dewey came (he even got a vet visit after one of their more nasty arguments), Maggie has settled down into being a couple.

Where Dewey is lumbering, slow and dim--Maggie is sharp, fast and quick-thinking.

It's pretty interesting to see how being paired with him actually pains her psyche.

She seems mortified when he lifts his leg on things.

She rescues the odd sock that he drags into the back yard.

She comes and gets one of us when he needs to go outside.

She's protective over him when he's not feeling well.

She waits patiently as he drinks all the water in the water dish and drags water all over the kitchen.

However...if he EVER touches one of her toys--it's back to the vet for him...

And she's not kidding.

It's Summer!

Have you ever noticed how time slips by so fast when you're busy?
That Summer in the Pacific Northwest is fleeting?

And you want to grab every last balmy, sunny day and squeeze every blessed moment from it?

Yeah...me too!

Injustice, served cold.

I bought a pack of Crayola crayons.

I wanted to get the kind that had the built in sharpener.

I don't remember having a set all to myself when I was a kid, so I thought I'd fix the injustice.

That's me--fixing all the injustices of my life.

Whatever...

So I went to Target.

I couldn't find them--they weren't with the toys.

I painstakingly asked a sales clerk (a retailer?) where I could find some crayons.

She looked at me like I had just requested porn.

She had to call 3 other people to find out where the crayons were.

Apparently they are now kept in the stationery aisle.

Go figure.

Anyway, I lingered in there for a really long time. These things aren't instant--they must be decided upon.

I found the box with the built in sharpener--it looks exactly as I remembered it.

BUT--there next to it was a an even BIGGER box! I decided to go for the bigger box.

After all-- I AM an American. We go for quantity over quality every time.

I brought the trademarked bright orange-y yellowish and green box home..I opened it.

What did I see?

Instead of row upon row of pristine, sharp crayons in the box--there were 6 BOXES of smaller crayons. No built in sharpener. No special crayon colors called ebony or onyx.

Just box after box of ordinary crayons. Colors like brown. blue. green.

AARRGGHHH!

So I am off to Target tomorrow to fix this travesty.

You can find me in the stationery aisle.

I'll be the one oozing grim determination.

Watch it, Mister!

Wes has been really busy at work, lately.

He's in charge of the molestations and sex crimes for his jurisdiction.

It takes a toll on his spirit, this job.

But he's really thrilled when he can arrest some pervert, give the victim (s) some relief and get the weird-o off the streets--even if it's just for a little chunk of time.

While he says he's 'just doing his job'--I'm really proud he does what he does.

I sleep better at night knowing good guys like him are on our side.

It's all relative, I suppose

Have you ever wondered why you met someone?
Why you felt that instant connection?

Was it Appearance? Spirit? Drive?
Why did you instantly have a rapport?

It's one of those weird unexplainable things.
I've been looking at the people who are in my life and wondering why we have the relationship we do. It's like the moment we talked there was something there.
With each of them, including family members and pets.

Are the relationships in our lives pre-ordained? Accidental?
Why were they someplace at the exact moment I was ?
Why do friendships flourish beyond a simple 'hello' ?

I don't know either.

A SCAM...and us.

Here's the back story....

A week before Brodie moved to Seattle, his 12 month old VW engine blew up.

Since he couldn't leave the state without a car, we lent him Wes' SUV to drive. The new VW engine we ordered out of Colorado was supposed to take 4-6 weeks to arrive. We were really happy to find this guy's ad in a VW magazine. He had built the "Herbie the Love Bug" movie car--both the original and the new one. That told us he knew what he was doing, was trustworthy and had longevity.

So what about our engine??

So far....it's been 7 weeks. Haven't heard anything from the guy building the engine despite several e-mails and a few frantic phone calls.

Not. a.word.

Silence.

Then, Wes received a very disturbing phone call today.

It was a guy who had contracted with the same VW engine guy we had. He lives in Michigan.

He had receievd his VW engine, installed it and it died after about 30 seconds.

$3,500 down the drain.

He had been contacted by an ex-police officer out of Los Angeles who had listened to the engine builders voice mails (learned a neat trick on how to do that!) and was contacting the 15 or so disgruntled people who had been calling the builder.

Wes had a few messages on the guy's voice mail--so they called to let him know what was happening. The builder is a fraud, according to the Michigan guy.

Wes is calling our bank to see if we have any recourse to get Brodie's $2,000 back.

The money we paid out of our account on his behalf.

It's not looking good so far.

We're out $2,000. We're out a VW Bug engine. We don't have our SUV.

Looks like we're royally screwed.

Great.

Taking a teeny break

Taking a much needed rest since I am working a million hours the next two weeks.
Talk amongst yourselves--I'll be back soon.

Busy Morning

I'm off to the dentist this morning.

I have 2 cavities.

TWO!

How crazy is this?? Hygienists aren't supposed to get cavities.

We're not.

We're supposed to be above all that mortal stuff.

We're supposed to be daily flossers, have ultra-white teeth, and glide through life with the wind delicately blowing through our sparkling tresses.

Instead, in 1 hour --I will be laying in a dental chair being mocked by every employee at my office .

Did I mention there are 25 employees?

That's a lot of mockage.

A LOT.

A great PETA Ad

Worth watching....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZuT5mCvki0

Take 2 and call me in the morning...

America: Land of the Drugged.

Everywhere I turn, I have friends who are on all kinds of medications.

They have pills for anxiety

For menopause.

For sexual disfunction

For hyperactivity

For headaches

For depression

For dieting

For rapid heartbeat

For slow heartbeat

For water retention

For cholesterol

For what-have-you

Are all these pills really necessary? Really?

Most of these people feel the need to pop a pill anytime they feel 'funny'.

They are off to the doctor's office in search of an instant cure-all. They want it now.

What would happen if they started eating right, exercising regularly, getting enough rest, and had some balance in their oh-so-busy lives?

Is this idea so preposterous as to be laughable?

Am I ahead of the times? Behind?

Regardless, I think I am right.

I believe our medication usage would be cut in half.

People would learn to handle stress and they would be healthier and happier overall.

Maybe some of the turmoil they are experiencing is a learning curve.

Medicating someone as they are learning the lesson is never a good idea.

It's such a simple thing.

Why don't we start there before holding our hands out for a pill?

I suppose it's now become the American Way.

McDoctors giving McPills.

Whatever happened to "First do no harm"?

Doesn't that mean handing over an unnecessary prescription too?

Think about it.

Please don't squeeze the Charmin!

There is an epic battle of wills being waged at my house lately.

It's the battle of toilet paper rolls.

When the kids were here, Wes taught them to ALWAYS load the new toilet paper onto the spindle every time they replaced a roll. The were pretty good about it. Seeing the spindle with only the empty TP inner cardboard would take this normally calm man into another dimension.

He'd become irritated, irate.

Not...Wes-like at all.

Since Tia moved out over 3 years ago, and Brodie has been gone a few weeks, apparently I'm not performing this task to Wes' specifications. He knows who the culprit is (obviously ME) who isn't replacing the roll.

There are 3 bathrooms in my house. THREE.

In each of the bathrooms is an empty spindle and the new roll of toilet paper is sitting on the back of the toilet. I haven't replaced the roll. He hasn't replaced the roll. Not one.

We don't talk about it, but I can tell it's there.

What is there? A battle...a battle of wills.

Me vs Him

Who wins? Him? Me?

Neither?

Or will we each hold out from replacing the roll, therefore it NEVER gets done?

Will we have acres of empty, brown carboard tubes lined up on the back of the toilet?

Will we start making crafty items for our friends from them while we're just sitting there?

Maybe a Christmas angel for the tree.....or we can string them together, spray paint a lovely metallic gold and they can become a necklace for the Statue of Liberty.

Who knows what we can create--the sky is the limit here.

At least until someone decides to come visit and we're forced to deal with the toilet paper situation, I supect we'll each be holding out. Locking eyes over the toilet seat. Neither one of us moving a muscle, holding our breath. Standing firm.

You know, it's a simple thing to give in and gently place the toilet roll onto the spindle.

I could even go as far as putting the paper in the 'over' position, instead of the 'under' position, just like he likes it.

Yes, I could.

But that's not the crux of the matter, is it?

It's a test of our marriage, this challenge of toilet paper replacement

Our formerly happy 25+ year marriage is in shambles.

This may send us into counselling. Or a hypnotist. Or acupuncture. Or maybe our Chi is off and we need herbal therapy.

I'm off to go look into the yellow pages.

We may have to drive a little further, but I'm sure I can find someone who specializes in this sort of situation.

Wish us luck.

Wet Clean Up... IMMEDIATELY

Did you see this headline yesterday?

"Maine Woman Finds 8 Foot Python In Washing Machine"

Seems this lady was reaching into her washing machine to pull the denim jeans out and she grabbed hold of something that moved. The python apparently had slithered into her machine by way of the water pipes.

You know, I think I'd instantly have more laundry to do if that ever happened to me.

Up a Creek

There for about 6 hours today--I was without Internet capabilities.

Dead in the water.

Internetless.

I tried not to show my dismay, but both Wes and the Scotties picked up on my mood. It was grim here in our home. It was almost like someone we loved dearly had died. Or been sent to prison for a very, very long time.

My friends out in cyberspace were missing me, I am sure. They were out gallavanting in space and here I was stuck in Oregon. At my house. Alone.

Yes, it was sad all right.

On the flip side, I managed to do 4 loads of laundry, hang a picture, read and wipe down all the counter tops in my kitchen. All without Internet breaks interspersed between chores.

Do you think there is a correlation between my messy house and (possible) excessive Internet usage?

Nah, I didn't think so either.

Natural Woman

I used to be considered low maintenence. Natural, even.

That's how I thought of myself...as in "yep, I'm pretty low maintenence compared to other women. I like that I am so natural looking"

Until today.

By the time I stepped into the shower, did my hair, and got my face ready for make-up--I had used 11 products.

ELEVEN!

That doesn't even include makeup or the required brushes and applicators. YIKES!

I tried to figure out what I could eliminate, but couldn't bear to part with anything.

When did this happen? Who needs 4 kinds of 'product' for their hair alone?

Their SHORT hair?

Me apparently.

Reason #4261 why I don't go camping anymore.

Game Time

It didn't start out obsessive.

But then..it never does, does it?

I was simply there to support a friend who had wondered about my take on a possible online class situation. She asked me to go to http://www.secondlife.com/ and check it out as a student would.

I signed up. I created an Avatar (that's the little paper doll person you get to move around the simulated world). I created clothing for it. I went through the agonizing orientation portion and learned the rules.

I did it all. Second Life was kind of cool, but also sort of annoying. Why? I didn't have time to play with dolls anymore, dammit.

I'm a grown up, after all.

But, as a good friend--I played along. And played along. And played along.

What I didn't expect was to really enjoy being in Second Life. I didn't expect to meet nice people from all over the globe. People who have become...friend-like.

I didn't expect to hear good live music, laugh in a fantastic comedy club or to watch old movies in the back of a 1957 Chevy. I also didn't expect to tour the Titanic museum, windsurf, or to practice my Spanish or French on people who actually spoke the language.

That's just the tip of the iceberg to where I can go, or what I can do in this second world.

And so it has happened.

My name is Tammy.

I am a now a Gamer.

PS If you happen to see Bridget B in SL--give her a shout.

I hear she's pretty nice.

Listen Up

Have you ever thought about your listening style?

Just listening to someone speak, without interjecting a single word.

Without judgement. Without pre-conceived thought. Watching their body language, their tone, their eyes. Being still enough to hear every nuance of each word.

Quieting your own inner voice to fully hear what someone is saying to you, including what it is they aren't saying.

Really listening to my friends and family is something that I'm working on within myself.

It's a gift I can give them with each conversation we have.

And...it's harder to do than I thought it would be, which tells me I need to do more.

An unfortunate truth.

How to spot a millionaire.

A matter of taste

It's all about priorities in life, isn't it?

I've noticed some of my women patients have $600 Prada purses. They never floss and only brush their teeth once a day(maybe). They come in for a cleaning every year or so because "I can't afford it". These women are concerned about the color of their teeth, and usually are willing to shell out big bucks for me to bleach them in-office--yet aren't willing to fix a cavity.

These particular women act like it's a personal affront to them to have me doing anything more than a quick surface cleaning.

Heaven forbid I keep them from shopping!

Then, sometimes I get in a dusty old farmer dressed in overalls. He's brushing twice a day. He keeps a container of floss in the combine (tractor) because "I hate when food gets stuck in my teeth". His teeth are strong, his gums pink. He doesn't care what color his teeth are, as long as they are healthy. He usually falls asleep while I'm cleaning away. He's happy to be there, if just for the air conditioning and the break.

Soooo....which one do you think I'd rather have in my chair?

In the pantry ..

There is a dusty jar of pears sitting on the middle shelf of my pantry.

They've been home canned, the peelings discarded years ago. Their oblong sweetness has long turned mushy and dark. Here and there a stray flotsam breaks free and floats quietly in the heavy syrup.

Time suspended.

That forlorn jar of pears is the last thing my husband will ever eat that his mother, Katie, prepared with her two hands. It is her recipe, her essence.

It doesn't matter if he actually opens the container--it matters that she made them.

In this small vessel of decaying fruit, he pictures her standing in her roomy kitchen. She is chopping, measuring and pouring the hot sticky syrup that will never be tasted.

In his Mother's kitchen --Wes is home.

Katie passed away never knowing the significance these home-canned pears would have over a man that grieves as fully today as 9 years ago, on the day she died.

It is a grief without reprieve.
Still fresh...although quieter now.
Happiness is never the same for a man/boy who is an orphan in his heart.

His eyes tell me of his turmoil, even if his voice has stilled.

A simple jar of home canned pears.
Silent testament to a beloved Mother.

This is why they invented motors...

My yellow, yellow house

I don't think the house turned out too badly, all things considered.

Once we got the windows uncovered, the trim painted and the shutters up....well, I can live with this yellow house for awhile. It's pure Americana, our home.

Doesn't it look like 'Leave it to Beaver' lives here?

We'll he doesn't.

And the lady who actually lives in this house? She'll take all your toys that land on her porch. She won't give them back. And she hands out toothbrushes for Halloween. She bakes cookies. She wears ugly sundresses in the summertime. She loves too hard. She reads bawdy romance novels by candlelight on that front porch whilst drinking iced wine--barefoot.

And she talks like a sailor and laughs far too loudly for her own good.

She's something else, that lady in the buttery yellow house.

Something else, indeed.

Back to Center

I have a lot of irons in the fire again and I couldn't be happier.

I'm busy in my kitchen developing recipes, I play in my pottery. I go out with friends. I've been talking to the Food Network about a show (more to come on that--hopefully!)and I'm starting to eye my canoe again. I think it's time to dust it off and float down the river. My house is getting (slowly) reorganized. I'm reading some amazing books. I'm writing.

Things are good.

In the past, I used to be busy. I had a lot of interests and I enjoyed them.

Then, I went to school. The past 6 years, I haven't been able to indulge my passions due to a crazy schedule that sapped my energy and used up literally all of my free time.

Now that I am out of school and working 2-3 days a week, I have been playing.

The grey cloud over my soul has lifted. I'm starting to get my sparkle back.

The sparkle that makes me who I am.

It's kind of nice to know the light dimmed, but never went out.

Truer words were never spoken...

I shamelessly stole this from a friend who sent it over the internet.

I think it sends *quite* the message to the rest of us, don't you?

Inner Strength

*If you can start the day without caffeine,

*If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains

*If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles

*If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it

*If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time

*If you can take criticism and blame without resentment

*If you can ignore a friend's limited education and never correct her/him

*If you can resist treating a rich friend better than a poor friend

*If you can conquer tension without medical help

*If you can relax without liquor

*If you can sleep without the aid of drugs

..Then You Are Probably The Family Dog!

Let's Keep in Touch...

I really am not a big fan of the cell phone.

Don't get me wrong--I have one. My friends have them.

I think they are a neccesity anymore since pay phones are nearly obsolete.

However, there is also a time and a place for a cell phone.

Talking to your friends while I'm trying to clean your teeth? Not a good time.

Calling home to see if the kids made it off the bus? Yes

Texting while someone is trying to carry on a conversation with you? Not polite

Checking with your spouse or partner to see if you need bread and milk at the store? Good idea

Talking to your buddy when the movie is going? Beyond rude.

The challenge in cell phone etiquette is that so many people rely on their cell phones as a window to the outside world. They feel cut off and uncomfortable when that link is broken.

I think everything has a time and a place--including cell phones.

I believe cell phones should be banned in medical offices, movie theaters, classrooms and restaurants.

Everywhere else is fair game.

If a friend's cell phone is constantly going off when we're trying to have a conversation--I have the choice of discussing the interruptions with him or her.

Do understand--I love technology. Most of the advances during my lifetime (so far) have been amazing.

But to me--a ringing cell phone is one of life's little annoyances.

It's not just a job--it's a lifestyle

Behind this badge is a man. A regular guy.

A guy who enjoys time off just like the next person.

A guy who likes sleeping next to his wife at night and working during the day, which is rare.

A guy who misses having holidays at home, weekends spent with friends, and frequent vacations. A guy who would like to leave work sitting on a desk without it eating away at his heart and brain.

But that isn't a police officer's life.

He may have chosen this career, but he didn't know how each encounter would brand his soul. Nobody told him, and to be honest--he probably wouldn't have listened anyway.

Not then.

No, he didn't understand 30 years ago.

Happy 4th of July

Happy Birthday America.

May you stand tall and proud, yet still be humble enough to learn and grow from your many mistakes.

Women's Wear Daily

I'm thinking maybe American Woman should re-think their confusion and disdain for the Middle Eastern Burqua. (By the way, a burqua is pronounced "BER-ka" in case you're trying to sound it out in your head ). I'm talking about the Muslim head to toe covering shown in blue above.

Black fabric is also available, from what I hear.

You know, The burqua (as shown above) may not be the awful, horrible prison we Northern Americans seem to think they are.

I mean ..really...I've been thinking this over today and I've compiled a list of pros to wearing the aforementioned burqua...

1. This would cause an end to bad hair days forever

2. Make-up would be optional

3. Have a zit? NO PROBLEM!

4. Feeling frisky? Choose the blue over the black

5. No more wondering what to wear to the Johnson's BBQ.

Perhaps our Muslim sisters in Iran have it right. Perhaps it's not so bad to wear this garment.

Wonder if I can get one off the internet?

Hmmm...I'm thinking the black would be more slimming.

Do you think they come in sizes?

Like Big, Bigger, Huge, and you-could-use-this-as-a-tent-if-you-have-enough-poles-handy.

Stay tuned, I may just start a trend.

Be on the lookout...

Home Lessons

I got a call from Brodie last night. It was 10:00pm.

Kinda late for a phone call, but I figured he was homesick since it's been a week since he's moved.

My wayward son in Seattle sounds happy. Almost euphoric.

It's so so nice seeing his dreams come true.

But he's learning lesson after lesson already.

He's beginning to have an inkling of what effort it takes to run a home.

The cleaning. The cooking. The laundry. The shopping. The hauling and putting away.

Constant vigilance in a space he never needed to think about before.

As my daughter, Tia told him years ago when she moved out on her own:

"It's not like at home. You have to pay attention"

Well said.

Movie Review: Bucket List

Wes and I watched the movie 'Bucket List' last night.
It stars Jack Nicolson and Morgan Freeman.

Wow.

This wasn't a comedy. It wasn't a drama.
It found that sweet spot in between where life is lived with intention, warmth and joy.

I'm not much of a Jack Nicholson fan, but this time he got it right. He wasn't smirky. He wasn't trying to act like someone half his age. He was really, really good in this role.

Morgan Freeman. Words can't decribe this man. He's genuine. He's a class act. Honorable.
This gentleman makes you believe everything he's saying.

I wasn't sure the combination of the two would work, but it does.
So go rent 'The Bucket List".

I'm so glad I did.

Send Ice Water!

It's hot here in Corvallis.

Damn hot.

Scorching 100 degrees in a town that is typically in the low 80's during summertime. Hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. That is, if you wanted to stand out there in the blazing sun--which I don't.

I'm off to put my head into the freezer.

If you don't hear from me in a couple of days--look there first.

That is all.

We're Empty Nesters

It's official--Wes and I are Empty Nesters.

It's been a long time coming--25 years. But I think we'll get used to it.

Sleeping late. Walking around the house in various states of undress. Eating whatever the heck we want for dinner. Having the remote in our hands, instead of the TV being controlled by one of the kids.

Listening to our kind of music--and not being constantly mocked or seeing the rolling eyes behind our backs. Leaving the house at the drop of a hat to go on a trip.

Not being responsible.

Not being responsible.

Not being responsible.

While the full time parenting was fun while it lasted, we're excited to see what new possibilities life has to offer. We did a great job with our kids. They both turned out awesome. They are responsible human beings that fit perfectly into society, while staying true to themselves and their core values. We can't ask for more than that from them, or ourselves.

Now it's our turn.

So---look out everyone--here we come!

We can't wait.

True to Life Cartoon

Rocking Chairs be GONE

He certainly looked like a great grandfather.

The guy sitting in my dental chair was in his 70's. Balding, grey hair, wrinkles. He even had a hip replacement a couple of years ago. He was aged, but not old. His eyes sparkled with an inner joy. He was practically humming with energy.

As I cleaned his teeth, he regaled me with stories about the 2,000 mile bike ride he and a group of friends just completed. They rode the back roads from Mississippi up into Canada.

One of the riders, a woman, has MS.

One had quadruple by-pass surgery 3 years ago

All in their 70's and 80's.

He said he did it to say he could. To feel alive.

To complete something that he'd always wanted to do.

To push back the hands of time, if only for 6 weeks.

To become a more interesting human being.

As I worked on this man, I reflected on how remarkable his life had become.

This was a guy who was ordinary in every sense of the word, yet he had done something extraordinary 'just to see if he could' later in his life when his peers were sitting on the couch.

Wow, Mr XX.

You are my new hero.

Infidelity, et al

I've been thinking about infidelity lately.

I was listening to Bob and Shari in the morning. They can be found here:http://www.bobandsheri.com/

I really like how these two interact with each other. The chemistry is fantastic.
Sheri is a wordsmith in every sense of the word. Her sensibilities and joy of life are infectious. They both make me laugh, even when I'm only driving to work.


Anyway--back to the infidelity part.


On the show, they were discussing the different types of infidelity. They described the different types of cheaters--Sexual, Emotional and Financial.
People were calling into the show talking about their stories of financial infidelity.
This is where one person in the couple spends the couple's money foolishly and drives their family's finances into the ground. I had never heard this term before, but it was intriguing.
I can see how this could be construed as cheating.

I can almost understand sexual infidelity.
Emotional infidelity would be more difficult to forgive.
But financial infidelity would be devastating.

Think about it.

An Ending and a Beginning...

Brodie moved to Seattle today.



He took all his things, down to his mural off the wall in his bedroom. As I walked into his empty room, there was an echo. The same echo that resonated in my heart.

Nobody tells you that when your last child moves out, there is a hole the size of Texas in your soul. If someone had told me when my kids were young that I'd someday long to have them underfoot and arguing with each other again --I'd tell them they were nuts.

But I do.
How I wish for those days back. I would have played more, yelled less and squeezed every last drop of my kid's childhood . We would have had ice cream for dinner and I wouldn't have cared a fig if their clothes got dirty or not--as long as they had big smiles on their little faces.
Yep, a do-over sounds like a good idea.


You know, while I think it's fantastic Brodie is chasing his dream of becoming an underwater welder, part of me wanted him to settle down nearby. Maybe even next door so we could always be close. Holding him back would have been the easier thing to do. He'd be safe, but unhappy.
I'd be happy for awhile, but if my child is miserable--so am I.
So I let go. And let go. And let go.

I held it together up until the final hug. That's when I lost it. I desperately wanted to scream "NOOO--YOU CAN'T GO".
But I didn't.
So I squeezed him tight with a whispered "I'm so proud of you, son". He kissed my cheek and squeezed tighter.
I couldn't turn around as I walked away. He didn't see me stumbling blindly into the house, tears coursing down my face as he pulled out of the driveway with the big U-Haul trailer behind him.

He is so excited to begin his journey. I couldn't take that away from him by being sad.
So, it's a new beginning.
For both of us.

Baby Territory

I've been invited to my co-worker, Traci's baby shower on Wednesday.
I thought I knew what I was getting her, but when I finally ventured into the baby store--the items I want are no longer made. Apparently, they are now considered unsafe.

Wow. Glad my kids are still alive.


So I wandered up and down aisles aimlessly looking for something that would be suitable for a baby who already has everything. What to buy? I picked up stuff and put it down. Everything seemed too...packaged. Too trite. Too pink. Too princess (how I loathe the 'princess trend'!), too much, too one dimensional. Dang, this is harder than I thought it would be.

I'm racking my brain--What can I get Traci (and baby Peyton) that's original, interesting, different, practical and affordable?

I think I'll get them a puppy. Yep--these 2 babies could grow up side by side.
Potty train in tandom. Chew on each other's toys. Cry in the playpen together.
So a puppy it is.
Now there's a gift that just keeps on giving for years and years and years...


(Please note---NO, I am not getting them a puppy. I like Traci too much to do that to her.)

Who thinks of these things?

I have no idea why egg/chicken things and pictures make me laugh.

Obviously, it's a sickness.

Death Be Not Proud

I read my hometown paper online every day.

It's a typical small town paper filled with stories about the rodeo, the police department and people who are getting awards. Local happenings that don't mean much to people who live outside of the area. Actually, it's more of a leaflet as opposed to a real newspaper--it's that small.

Every once in awhile I read a name that I recognize and it's kind of fun to see where life took my school chums after high school. It's weird to see former friends having grandchildren and retiring. In my mind, we are frozen in time at 18 years old.

After all, I look the same, they look the same. Right?

This week, I read in the obituaries that one of my former classmates died. She was 45.

This information was a shocker, to say the least.

I figured it was cancer or an accident. It wasn't. Apparently she was sitting at her kitchen table enjoying dinner with her family. She had a massive heart attack. Gone in an instant.

I had never really been friends with this person (she bullied most of us through grade school), but I certainly always thought she would be around. But we'll never see her again. Ever.

The finality of her death is pretty overwhelming.

So this bit of news immediately turned my thoughts to ME--as all things should. :)

What if it had been me? How much time do I have left?

I don't know.

What I do know is that I'd better get my underwear drawer in better shape, and destroy all evidence of my angsty teenaged years. Silly things I've been hanging onto forever , like plushy animals, diaries, love letters,yearbooks and photos. Bits of odd notes and cheap plastic souvenirs.

Yeah--that stuff is too personal to have my kids riffling through it.

They'd never understand how a warped 45 record of Styxx could trigger a memory of a hot summer night at the county fair, and a midnight dip in the river. The memory where I'm 17 and the world was new and full of possibilities. The freedom. The innocence. The passion. The fun.

I'm sure they would toss my 'garbage' into the trash can and close the lid securely. They'd casually scoop up my old love letters and burn them in the fireplace. The silky ashes would slowly wind their way up the chimney and float away into the wind.

Memories set free.

I guess that's when I'll be truly gone.

Indoor Chic?

Can someone (ANYONE) tell me why suddenly it's considered 'cool' to wear sunglasses indoors?

Who decided this? Stevie Wonder?

Liquid Sunshine

We did it.

We painted the exterior of the house.

When we bought the house , I remember telling Wes 'We REALLY need to paint the exterior--that color is just awful". Fast forward 9 years and we're just now getting to it.

We spent months picking out the perfect yellow paint.
MONTHS.

I should have known better than to pick a sunshine-y color on a gloomy Oregon day. I should have been more aware of my mood at the time. Think about it--if we had recently returned from our Bahamian trip, I would have been inspired by the sea, the sand and the tropical colors of the islands. The house would have been neon purple with pink trim, as on the island.

As it was, I think I must have needed some serious sunshine in my life.

I guess that's why I picked the yellow.

It was cheerful and fun on a cloudy, dismal day.

So, for the past few days we've been pressure washing, caulking, taping and papering the house getting ready for the actual paint to be applied.

Then, we did a coat of white primer. All day long today I was practically vibrating with excitement. Wes was going to be spraying the perfect yellow onto our house.

The PERFECT yellow.

I couldn't wait.

I was sure the entire neighborhood would stop by and exclaim how beautiful this color was. People would drive by slowly just to see how gorgeous our house turned out. Maybe they'd stop, knock on our door and ask what color we'd chosen because it was so nice. Yeah, the paint was that perfect.

I had a meeting at work this afternoon, and as I pulled back into our driveway, I saw the color we'd so painstakingly chosen. Looming before me was the most hideous yellow house I'd ever seen. It was garish. Ugly.

Very, very unclassy in a very, very classy neighborhood.

OOOOHHHH NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

After nearly bursting into tears and begging my stalwart husband to re-do the color into something a bit more neutral, it seems Wes likes it. Actually, I'm not sure he likes it as opposed to not wanting to un-do all the hard work he's already put into it.

He's also not willing to spend another $800 and 3 days changing the color to suit me.

He got that stubborn look on his face and I knew right away I'd been beat in a battle of wills.

He won. Wow, did he win.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

And so I have to live with my yellow house. The horrible, no good, very bad yellow color.

The paint color I once loved is now the the paint color I loathe.

I hope the neighbors have good sunglasses.

Maybe they won't notice how awful the color is.

Maybe the yellow will fade with time.

Maybe I just won't care after I get used to it.

That's a lot of maybe.

Senior Moments

There is a place between 50 and 60 that, when you are called a 'senior' --it makes you cringe.

I'm not there yet, but my husband, Wes is.

He thinks getting older is somehow a failure. Like he's no longer vital or vibrant. Nothing could be further from the truth, but remember--this is the guy who spent his 30th birthday in bed all day mourning the loss of his 20's.

His age now is like a big secret. He wants his damn senior discount, but he's not willing to tell anyone that he's eligible for it. When I recently booked our September Alaskan Cruise, I wasn't shy about asking for that discount.

Yes, I'm willing to whore Wes out for a few bucks off my bill.

Why not? It's not MY age I'm spilling!

I guess he doesn't want to hear that I found a 50+ 'senior' apartment complex with amazing low rents, plenty of activities, transportation and fun.

Nah--he won't want to sell our ridiculously too big house and move into a smaller senior apartment. An apartment without lawn care or roofing issues.

Never mind that he'd probably be viewed like a rock star by the other ladies there because he fixes things and is soooo nice. They'd be swooning for sure.

Nope--I'm not going to tell him.

It's a GIRL!

As promised, I wanted to announce that my co-worker, Traci had a GIRL on Saturday night.

She was 6lbs 9oz, 19 inches.

Her name is Peyton Alaina.

Traci, Kevin and Peyton are doing really well and are excited to be a family.

First Impressions

Would you befriend this individual? Why? Why Not?

I used to be proud that I could figure out a person within minutes and pretty much know them. Who they were. What they stood for. I admit I saw people in black and white terms with limited sight.

I was so, so wrong.

I realize now that people think they can sum me up really fast by my outside appearance, yet they don't know who I am, really. Most of my friends are fairly shocked once they get to know me. I'm completely different than my outside appears. Very different.

To most, I appear very conservative and stuffy. But I don't fit that mold. That tiny little box they want to shove me into. I'm much more than that.

Case in point: My son, Brodie has a large tattoo on his back. Both ears are pierced and he has large gauge earrings inserted. He also has a cartilage piercing at the top of his ear. Do I like it that he has chosen to modify his body in this manner? NO.

However, he's also an Eagle Scout. A straight A student in advanced placement classes. Opens doors for strangers. Says "Please, Excuse Me and Thank-you". He tells me every day that he loves me. He is kind to babies and toddlers and he adores animals. He has an amazing sense of humor and he is honorable to women.

Someone just looking at him would see never my son for those excellent qualities. Instead, they would choose to see a 'freak'. Although it's their loss to consider him in this way, I

would like for them to get to know him for who he is....not what he looks like.

Yes, his body modification is unexpected. Kind of strange.

But I'd rather see someone modify their body than be bound by petty prejudices.

At least Brodie's earlobes will grow back.