now I remember . . .

Ok, I didn't *just* remember, but I do finally have some time to talk about what I wanted to talk about last time when I kind of got sidetracked and went on and on about nothing. (Ha! That was a mouthful!!)

So, have you seen the latest kiddy movie "UP?" It is so fantastic and not at all just a kiddy movie and -- this is the best part -- there are no *politics* in the whole movie. Really. I'm not kidding. It was fantastic and, if you haven't already, you need to go see it.

Although, I will say that if you don't really care for good wholesome movies that have a moral to the story AND you are not particularly in the mood for having *anything* to do with loving relationships, then I would not recommend this movie. You would probably be better off going to see something with a lot of yelling and guns and blood.

Ok, now that I've got it set up for you, here's what I *really* wanted to talk about: We were sitting in the theartre (RL, my daughter, and I), watching this kid's movie on a Sunday afternoon, and there was a younger couple sitting in front of us. Not *very* young. Probably in their late twenties, early thirties. Within the first FIFTEEN minutes, these two were all over each other. At one point, the guy had his head in her lap and her skirt was pulled up!!

Now, I'm all for some hot steamy lovin, but c'mon! At the kids movie? In the middle of the theatre? At least go sit on the back row. At least pick a movie where there's not going to be kids *everywhere* around you. That's just too perverted!!

*get a hanky

There's this really miraculous thing that happened to me. Something that I really wanted to happen, but never thought it would and is just so marvelous that I'm not even sure I can verbalize it. But one day (I can't even say exactly when) my daughter and I became friends.

My Mom and I were never really friends. We were more like coworkers who merely tolerate each other. You know, the "I have to work with you, but I don't have to like you." We had our good moments and before she died we became closer. I was able to love her and feel compassion for her, forgive her and respect her. But, still, we weren't really friends.

Brandi is now twenty years old and no longer living at home. Now some might feel that's the reason for this miraculous friendship. But I disagree. Somehow we became friends before. Somehow the mother/daughter disagreements didn't destroy us. Somehow we were able to overcome bitterness and resentment.

This was most apparent to me the other night. I took her out to the big discount warehouse home improvement center to get some flowers to plant on her balcony. As we walked down the aisles of rows and rows of flowers, she took my hand. Suddenly, she was a little girl again, taking my hand as we crossed the street -- she trusts me. Suddenly, she was taking my hand as we faced a crisis together -- she needs me. Suddenly, she was taking my hand as we shared an inside joke -- she likes me. And I realized she is this wonderful, beautiful woman who is not only my daughter but also my friend.

I love you, Sweet Pea!

let me go crazy on you

I wrote a while back about taking vitamins to deter bouts of depression. But I have to confess, I haven't been very good about taking them for several months. It's not that I forgot, I just haven't been taking them. And since I'm not merely breathing these days, I just haven't felt the need. Top that with the fact that RL isn't working out of town any longer, my life and emotional state turned all butterflies and rainbows.

"Are you taking your crazy pills?" I reminded my dear husband they are *not* crazy pills; they're just vitamins. But he insists I don't act as crazy when I'm taking them. Actually, his exact word for it was "b!tchy." I'm more "agreeable" when I take my "crazy" pills. But it's kind of funny, don't you think, that my "craziness" is more noticeable when he's misbehaving? Not badly misbehaving, just being a little annoying.

The truth is, these past few months we've been slowly entering a new phase in our marriage. The long awaited Empty Nest. For most married couples I imagine this is a normal adjustment. But most married couples have, at some point previously, been married without kids at home. RL and I, on the otherhand, have never been married without children. Jeremy was seven when we got married and shortly thereafter (about seven months later) Brandi was born. There's never been "just us."

So he's always home (because he doesn't go out of town) and we're always home alone (because there are no kids). But sometimes I think we're getting on each other's nerves and driving each other crazy. The other day, after walking passed Brandi's empty room, I told RL I was feeling a little sad about it. "That's why you need to take your 'crazy' pills."

See what I mean? He's driving me crazy!!

photo tag

XI tagged me to play along and so I guess that means I'm IT. The idea is to post a specific, yet random photo -- specifically (yet, also, randomly...) the 4th photo from the 4th folder. Since I have folders within folders within folders of photos, it was a little difficult not to cheat just a bit. But I didn't and, though this isn't one of my favorite shots, it is one of my favorite subjects.

Brandi had been with a modeling agency for about a year and needed new composites to send out for potential jobs. It was going to cost $500 just for the photography, so I asked her agent if it would be ok if I did the photo session myself. Surprisingly she agreed and this is one of those photos.

I know Therese has already been tagged, but I'm tagging her again because she's been so busy lately, this will be an easy post for her to make. I'm also going to tag Jeff, because he's new to this blog thing (though he may not participate for a while since he's on his way to Russia). And lastly, I'll tag Kristi, because she is also new to blogging and I want to introduce her to all of you.

for brandi

My baby girl has moved out into the wild world.

it happened sooner than expected

My son was held back in the first grade. I didn't like it, but we (his teacher and I) decided it would be best if he "matured" a little before going on to second grade. Over the years I realized that when he was 16 most of those in his own class would be 14 and 15. It was then I made the decision that he would not be allowed to date until he was 17. I figured by then the girls he would be dating would at least be 16.

So when my daughter came along it was an automatic rule: no dating until 17. However, the reasoning was a little different. When she begged and pleaded with me to let so-and-so take her out on a date I would remind her that she had to be 17. I reasoned with her that I preferred she had at least a year's experience driving before she went out on a date alone with a guy.

Now my daughter is 19. The other day she was talking about how glad she was that she hadn't gone out with a bunch of different guys in high school and, though it had been really tough with all of her friends dating, she was glad I made her wait. She said, "You were right, Mom."

Wow! I was wasn't expecting that!

humor for the pain

Note: I pulled this from the archives. Thanksgiving is a really difficult time for me and rather than post a completely new rendition of the same old thing, I decided to cheat. And just so you know, I'm taking this book with me to work so I can have a few laughs before the big day.

Have you ever been told some news that was so shocking, it felt as though someone knocked you upside the head with a skillet? That's how my life has been for several years now. Seems like every time I turn around there's another person standing in front of me with a skillet in their hands. It's enough to make a person hide under the bed and never answer the door.

The news -- your son is gay, your mom has cancer, your child tried to kill themself, and "Mom, I'm dropping out of school," -- is devasting and inconceivable. Daily life became surreal as I would make the bed, feed the dog, buy the groceries. My body was on autopilot. The scars can't be seen by others, but the ringing in my ears gets so loud others must be able to hear it!

But in the midst of it all there are small blessings of laughter. My dear friend gave me a book titled I'm So Glad You Told Me What I Didn't Wanna Hear, by Barbara Johnson. It is full of little morsels that melt the lump in my throat. I read it a couple of years ago and, now that my son has moved back home (Edit: He moved out almost two years ago and I haven't seen or heard from him since. I call him once a week and leave a message on his voice mail just to tell him I love him.), I am reading it again.

Here are some of my favorites:

~I need some of my problems to help take my mind off some of the others.

~Blessed are they who clip coupons, for they shall be redeemed.

~Sometimes my mind is so uncomfortable, I wish I could go somewhere and take it off.

~It is bad to suppress laughter. It goes back down and spreads to your hips.

~We probably wouldn't worry about what people think of us if we could know how seldom they do.

~Remember, every cloud has a silver lining . . . and sometimes a bolt of lightning.

~Time wounds all heels.

~The more you complain, the longer God lets you live

~One way to handle stress: Lie on your back to eat celery, using your navel as a salt dipper.

~Just when I nearly had the answer, I forgot the question.

~If you have the same problems I have . . . please seek help immediately!

~Most people have minds like concrete: mixed up or permanently set.

~Break out dancing every now and then . . . it'll help pass the time until they come to take you away.

~Do NOT come in out of the rain.

Hope these have brought a little laughter to your day.

in no particular order

Since I can't seem to pin down one thought long enough to shape it into its own post, I'll just share some things that have been on my mind the past few days.

• My daughter (19) has been out of work for about 6 months. It's driving me crazy, because she's just shy of becoming a homeless person. She technically still lives at home, but she's rarely there and seems to have absolutely no ambition to make a living and move out on her own.

• My son (27) hasn't spoken to me and I haven't seen him in about a year and a half. It's paticularly difficult this time of year. There's lots more I feel/could say about this subject, but there's just too much. Maybe I should start an entirely new blog just about that.

• My dog has chronic bronchitis and is going through a change in medication. I think the new medication is making her depressed. It is really sad. She's just a pitiful whiny mess.

• The future of this country scares the shiitake out me.

• Should I be worried that I have no desire to listen to music of any kind these days?

• I don't think sex three times a week is unreasonable.

• My house will be clean before the family comes over for Thanksgiving. My house will be clean before . . . .

• I don't think sex four times a week is unreasonable.

• I hate the class I'm taking this semester. Engineering Computer Programming has ruined more 4.0 GPA.

• What's really an unreasonable number of times to have sex in one week?

birthday presents

You know how the saying goes: "It's more blessed to give than to receive." So I started my birthday right by giving myself a 4-day weekend. My birthday is actually today, so it was a weekend full of fun leading up to the big celebration. Not that I'm really having a BIG celebration, as in party or anything. But I am celebrating big in my heart.

Anyway, what did I do these four glorious days? Well, I mentioned in the previous post that Saturday I spent the day with my daughter at the zoo, which was a lot of fun and, yes, I took tons of pictures (I was nice and only gave you a sampling of the 300 I actually took). RL had left Saturday morning to go hunting and wouldn't be home until Sunday night, so I took advantage of an empty house and cleaned my little heart out. No, I didn't clean my heart -- I cleaned the house!! That might sound like a strange way to celebrate, but believe me, it was a gift for my soul.

Yesterday I continued the giving and went shopping. Now some of you may think that is a typical thing for a woman to do and you would probably be right, except I'm not your typical woman. If you'll notice, #38 of the 100 Things About Me states plainly: I hate shopping. To make it more enjoyable I planned the day, made a list, and headed to the big discount members only warehouse store. (Yeah, well, there's a whole lot more there than bulk quantities of Charmin.)

Ok, I did stop off at the mall first. But that was because I needed to take my wedding rings in for repair and some other jewelry to be checked and cleaned. I hadn't planned on roaming down to the shoe store that just happened to be having a "buy one pair and get the second at half price" sale. So, of course, I had to buy two pairs of shoes. I needed some comfy casual shoes. Really. And it seemed a shame to pass up another pair of shoes at half price!

And I couldn't help that, on my way back to the jewelry store, I had to pass the cellular phone kiosk. But since I did I thought I would see if they had a case for my phone. I didn't know I was eligible for a new phone! Hey, it's my birthday weekend -- what a cool gift!! (Actually, it turned out that I wasn't really eligible for the upgrade until the 29th. So thank you, Sam, Paris, and Jeremy for making it happen.)

So after two hours I finally made it back to the jewelry store, picked up my fully inspected, bright sparkly clean jewelry and headed to . . . oh wait! You should have seen them. Simple, shiny, 14K white gold hoop earrings just screaming, "Happy Birthday!"

When I finally made it to the big discount members only warehouse to purchase miscellaneous and much needed items, I discovered there were only two remaining black leather jackets in my size. I couldn't risk waiting for RL to buy me one for Christmas. They'd BOTH be gone. I did what any rational giving person would do. I gave myself one!

This morning RL wished me a very, VERY happy birthday and later asked me if I wanted my gift now or if I wanted to wait until tonight at dinner (at a very special seafood restaurant). Of course I want it now! So this is what my loving husband gave me. It's our children's birthstone and I absolutely love it!

And just when I thought I had received all the gifts any girl could ever imagine, I walked my husband to the door, kissed him goodbye as he was leaving for work, closed the door, walked back into the living room, and to my great surprise discovered my dog had left me a present as well! YIPEE! More cleaning. Happy Birthday to Me!!

zoo friends

Click on image for large view

My daughter and I were able to spend most of yesterday at the zoo -- sort of an (early) birthday gift for me to spend much of the day with her. We had a great time!

wife/mom

There's a line women must walk. Actually, maybe not all women. Maybe it's just married women with children. The line between treating their children as children and their husbands as . . . well, not as a child. It's a very difficult line not to cross and probably nonexistent to some, but it has been revealed to me several times over my 20-year marriage.

When I was in my twenties and thirties, for some reason, I had this idea that everything just had to be a certain way. The house had to look a certain way, it must be cleaned a certain way, and everyone had to do everything a certain way or it wasn't right. Thinking about it now, no wonder I was so stressed and acted like such a . . . well, never mind about that. But I definitely understand why I was always exhausted.

Anyway, so when the kids would clean their rooms I would always go in and check to make sure it was done "right." You know how kids are. They'll throw everything in the closet or under the bed and tell you they've finished cleaning their room. I know I did that. So I made sure they knew I wasn't going to let them get away with it. And that's ok, if it's your kids. But when your husband is helping you with the housework the rules are completely different. As a matter of fact, if your husband is helping you at all with housework he deserves mass quantities of wild sex -- from you, his wife, of course!

But if he, for instance, is helping with the laundry and asks, "Uh, honey, how do you fold these sheets?" You say, "Anyway you want!" Because, let's face it, does it really matter, in the big picture, how the sheets are folded? No! Really, it doesn't.

This past weekened I had the opportunity to pass this knowledge on to my daughter. Earlier, I was in the kitchen washing dishes and thinking about all the other work I still needed to do and kind of getting a little upset, because RL was in the front room watching tv. Then a few minutes later, I realized, yes he was watching tv, but he was also folding laundry! OMG!! I thought I saw a glow of light around his head. I heard a choir singing and harps playing. Then I turned back to the dishes hoping that it wasn't all a dream.

Later, my daughter got home from work and sat down in the front room to watch tv. She noticed the stacks of her clothes that had been folded and asked why her clothes had been folded wrong-side out. Well, I have to tell you, my head nearly spun around like I was Linda Blair! I told her, basically, that you don't complain how someone folds laundry when they usually never fold laundry. It's enough that they even tried. Be thankful it was done at all, especially when she can do it herself!

So ladies remember, children are children and need instruction and discipline. You're not your husband's mother and that's a good thing, because that's just gross when you think about it. In conclusion, husbands can fold laundry any way they want (if they want) and children can fold their own!

disclosure = intimacy

I should have warned you all in the last post that it seems this course I'm taking in human relations is going to give me lots of ideas for writing. But hopefully they'll be interesting enough to draw some good discussions like we just had.

_______________________________________________

The text we're using for Human Relations is Becoming Aware (Kendall/Hunt Publishing). It talks about the evolution of relationships and how it is crucial to reveal the "real you" to people. We do this by being willing to disclose our "innermost thoughts, feelings, and actions to those with whom we desire to have a close relationship." The text goes on:

The evolution of a relationship, getting acquainted, becoming friends, and developing intimacy is based on how much you are willing to disclose about yourself and how much the other person is willing to disclose about themselves to you. The more you know about another person and the more he or she knows about you, the more effective and efficient the relationship will be

And there's that pesky little word that keeps popping up around the neighborhood. The ever elusive intimacy. The text makes it sound so easy. You meet someone, get to know each other, start talking about your feelings, and *poof* intimacy. The key phrase in that excerpt, though, is how much the other person is willing to disclose about themselves to you. That seems to be a lot of the problem: how do we get others to open up?

To me, it's a matter of understanding that self-disclosure is a choice and it is not dependent upon the other person's disclosure. Sharing my thoughts, feelings, etc. is about letting the other person know the real me and making them feel safe to, if they choose, let me know them.

For example, there was a time when my daughter was in an "I hate you" phase. I would tell her I loved her, but she wouldn't say it to me. Then the question came to mind, "What is your intention in telling her you love her? Do you just say it so she'll say it back?" Well, of course not! The intention was that I want her to know I love her. So I told her. And told her. And told her. And one day she said, "I love you too, Mom." OMG! I just about fainted. "Prepare the fatted calf!"

But what happened? Why the change? The text explains it this way: An individual is not likely to engage in much self-disclosure if the situation involves too much personal threat. For her to allow herself to disclose her feelings to me threatened her need to be detached from me for a while. My continuing to express my feelings to her (regardless of her response) communicated to her in a way that, eventually, made it safe for her to express those feelings to me.

The truth is there is a risk to self-disclosure. With my daughter, I could have decided that if she wasn't going to tell me she loved me, I wasn't going to tell her. But that would have only made the tension between us greater. There was a risk of me getting hurt by not hearing her tell me she loved me, but the advantage of self-disclosure is that "disclosure leads to trust and tust leads to more disclosure, and, thus, the relationship will grow and develop into a mature and long-lasting, loving interaction."

We can't force the intimacy aspect of the relationship. It has to come after the trust is built that tells the other person it's safe to let us in. And this could happen quickly, over time (even years) or even require us to start over in building their trust. But, I think, if we will take the risk, set aside our self-doubt, and examine our real intentions of our self-disclosure, we will be able to acquire the intimate relationships we desire.

they're good for somethin'

I've always needed support. Even when I was a budding youngster, it seemed one day I was full and perky and the next slightly saggy. Sure I exercised, but in the years when liberation was in its full glory, who was I to bind up what nature (and women everywhere) demanded to be set free. That and giving birth to my first child at the age of eighteen, didn't help matters.

But I haven't thought much about it. I've always managed to present the girls in a way that, I thought, was most flattering. I've even had some rather nice compliments on them. But when RL so generously offered to pay for surgery to give them a lift, I became a little self-conscious about their appearance. That is until my mammogram the other day. Turns out the "big floppy ones" are the best for that sort of thing.

g-rated?

In my blogger travels, I've noticed some have this cool little rating banner. And being the curious kind, I clicked that how-does-your-blog-rate link below the banner. To my surprise . . . dismay . . . (I'm not sure what word would be correct) my blog received a G rating. Surely, I thought, I deserved at least a PG, but G? That's crazy. This isn't a trashy site, but definitely not all of the content is open for all ages.

Then I noticed it was because the word sex was only found once on my entire blog. Well, that is a completely ridiculous way to rate a blog, because everyone knows context rules. I mean, just because a post is about going to the convenience store or traveling from state to state, doesn't mean it's not about sex. Heck, I was just reading this morning about how Diet Mt. Dew can be about sex. Even a scavenger hunt can be about sex. But you wouldn't know that out of context.

So all I'm saying is there is a lot I've written about that I wouldn't necessarily want children to read (not that any have been here, but you never know) and so I thought it would be nice to give a little warning.

Let's see if I've added just enough sex talk to get the rating I want . . .

That's better!

randomness

Miss Conduct -- The other day I saw a young woman (late teens, early 20's) approach the entrance of a store at the same time as an older woman (late 60's). Maybe it's just me, but I was shocked the young woman opened the door and walked in ahead of the older woman. She didn't even hold the door open long enough for the older woman to walk in.

Miss Fortune -- A woman in Kansas decided to learn how to build a web page. For practice, she designed a mock website that sold tumbleweeds. That was a few years ago. Today, she earns around $40,000 a year. Not designing web pages, but selling tumbleweeds.

Miss Application -- My daughter is looking for a job. Ok, at least that's what she says. I mean, I know that she has put in some applications at a few places, but she's only been to maybe a handful of places in the past three weeks. It shouldn't take that long to get a job, especially this time of year.

target practice

RL hasn't been able to go hunting this year, because he's been working so much. But Saturday he got in a little target practice.
My daughter thought it would be a good photo op, though she didn't actually shoot the gun. She just wanted a cool pic to post on her My Space.

the real story

I started this blog to write about whatever quirky, inquisitive, perplexing thing popped into my head (which is quite often). But it seems there has been so much personal crap going on in my life, I haven't really wanted to just lay my broken heart out for everyone to see. To be real honest, I don't know that anyone would really want to hear about all of it. That's why I've posted more pictures than actually writing anything. But I'm feeling pretty lonely and depressed right now and maybe getting it off my chest will help.

For one, my son isn't speaking to me. He hasn't answered my calls and I haven't talked to him in about two months. I hear things about what's going on in his life from my dad, but that in itself is very depressing. I mean, I don't talk to my dad that often and he doesn't call me, so I have to make myself call him to find out anything that might be going on with my son. Of course, my dad talks to my son on practically a daily basis. The biggest thing that upset me about all of this is that I missed my son's graduation (he is now a medical assistant). When my dad did talk to me about it (after the fact) he told me how they took lots of pictures and my son was awarded Most Outstanding Student and wonderful things like that. Well, of course, that just made it all the worse for me. But I am trying to remind myself that it doesn't matter if my son ever talks to me again. If he's alive and happy, then that's all that really matters.

Then there is my daughter. She's 18 now and never at home. She drives me crazy, because she has become quite the party animal. She doesn't work enough hours to pay her bills and she seems to have no real plan for her life. Sure, she talks about going to college in the Fall, but she hasn't done anything towards getting enrolled. I really don't know what she's thinking and she sure doesn't tell me. Usually all I hear from her is, "Okay, I'm outa here."

But the thing that has really been hard on me is my husband is out of town all the time. Since January he's been gone during the week and home on the weekends. The only time that was different was right before and right after we went on vacation. He's gone now and I'm sick of it. Here we are in the "empty nest" years (for the most part) and I'm sitting at home by myself. Now, granted, I don't have to do that, but I'm just not the going-out-running-around type. Sure, I have friends I could have dinner with or go see a movie. But, you know, I'm outside all day long and in the evenings I just like to stay at home and relax. I just never thought I was going to have to spend the prime of my life by myself.

I try to make the most of the weekends when my husband is home. But there's that nagging voice in the back of my head that keeps reminding me he'll be leaving Monday morning. It's gotten so bad that every time I hear an airplane fly over I hear my mind saying, "I hate planes!"
So I told myself I would get out more. I enrolled in a photography class at the community college. I bought a bunch of flowers to plant in my garden. I try to come up with anything that will keep me and my mind busy. But the reality is I'm still alone and everything I do, I do alone. And it sucks!

brandi and jesse

Jesse leaves for college this week. It's not going to be fun around my house for a while.

christmas

photo shoot

I had the opportunity to do a real photo shoot with Brandi. It was a lot of fun and I learned so much from doing this shoot.