Short-Timers Advice - Time Won't Wait.

Time can not be wasted at this point.  It is running short.

To recognize this fact is to see all things anew.

I am surrounded by folks whose time is running short, my parents, my husband's parents. When I worked at the bank it was located near two senior citizen high rises. I met a lot people whose time was short. And they always had the same advice. And they gave it with a sense of urgency.

That's why I listened.

They will tell you the truth about time. Time should not be confused with the past or the future. Time deals strictly on a now basis. They will make you realize that time is urgent.

For some the urgency drives them crazy because they can no longer control what happens in time. They can't ignore it anymore. It becomes the elephant in the room.

Sickness and infirmity keeps them from spending time well. Time is fleeting and they don't have the strength left to capture it again. It becomes lost. And they want it back so badly. Some desperately. They want time back to show how much they appreciate it now.

For some, they look to others to give them or help them fill time. Sometimes, no one is willing to give their time. No one visits. No one is compelled. There are no hobbies or interests to create time. Time was not used wisely. Time was not honored for its potential to give and enrich. You did not take the time, so why should time or anyone else do it now.

For others, family and friends help to fill the time. Gifts of time are presented and offered with love and joy. Time was used more wisely, and is much more hospitable as it marches along. Time does not scare them as much. They resign themselves and step in line and march along with time, sometimes hand in hand.

Time is not to be wasted. That is their message.

Time should not be taken for granted. She'll bitch slap you when finally after years, you take notice of her. Time can also be very cruel. That is also part of the short-timers message.

It is an abstract idea at first - what time is exactly. Many look for a concrete example to understand it better. So people measure it. They put in on a scale. As long as the scale says lots of time, they ignore it. Time seems plentiful. There is no urgency. Time can wait.

The mistake is reading the measurement of time in this way. When time is at its most abundant is exactly when time is the most useful, the most generous, and most efficiently used. It's heavy weight signals you to use it to its fullest measure, not save it. Time is vibrant, healthy, and has great legs.   Use them. Use them now.

That is their message. And the short-timers always add urgently...    Please.  I beg you.  Don't wait. Take time now.

(Spending the weekend along the shore of Lake Michigan, a weekend I had promised to my 80 year old parents, a place they love but without the means to get there.  I had to take them, and take them now. There is no time to lose.  .... To report, we had a lovely time.  It was time very well spent.)

Distracted Bitch - And It's Not My Dog

In this edition of Random Tuesday Thoughts, a secret is revealed, eccentric persona emerge, a geological phenomena simile. "Cats! Dogs! Living together...!", metaphors for life, and a husband gets a break.





Here's a little secret.  I've changed.

Inside this sweet, fuzzy warm, very loving person  I've become, was once a hardened, seething, anguished waiting-to-pounce bitch. She doesn't appear anymore.

Okay. Maybe a couple days of the month, she reappears, but really just a mere shadow of her past self and only for minutes at a time. Really. Take my word for it. She's hardly recognizable anymore.   Right Honey?

Now, where did he go?

But like the newly formed volcano, erupting angry lava carelessly in its youth, years and years of trials and tribulations, experience and wisdom have cooled down the exterior. It hibernates in the depths, underneath cool waters and spring meadows. No longer recognized as a volcano. Really.  Believe me. It's true.

But occasionally steam does rises. It's sounds like a slow hiss.

And it sounds like a cat's hiss.  And I am very much a cat. And cats usually don't get along with dogs.

Smokey, our temporary dog boarder, just wants to be loved. And loved. And loved. And loved.

His exuberance and "love-me" eyes were hard to resist, but now when I come through the door I find it maddening. So I have taken to ignoring his requests for instant affection gratification. Later on, he will insist that ignoring him is just out of the question. So I relent.

Now I'm not one that likes things that are too needy. Girlfriends who need to be pacified too much, boyfriends that need constant validation, folks that are touchy feel-y, arm tappers, wide-eyed dramatic people (besides myself), and delusional love starved dogs.

Because They. Want. Too. Much. And since I don't have the personality or fortitude to give it to them, I feel slightly guilty and put upon, and seriously, who needs that?

So the dog and I have been going through a ritual, a one sided conversation where I tell him all the things I won't do for him.  Telling him to stop watching me.  To quit following me around the house all the time. Don't you dare lick me. That I recognize his ploy of bringing me his toys. Interrupting conversations by chomping on his squeaky toy. That this is MY food and I'm not sharing. Sure he gets the occasional display of affection. But  I let him know that I am not going to sit there and pet him for hours.

As the dog and I were going another round, QueenMaker looks at Smokey and gratefully says:

"Dog, you don't know how happy I am to have you here."

Touche.  QueenMaker.  Touche.



So off you go to Keely's for more random happenings and distractions.  You'll find a lovely group of personalities there that you'll want to get to know. They don't seem too needy either.  Awesome.

Random Words

Pressure - That's when you have six highly diverse projects with deadlines that fall within one week of each other in February.

Balance - That's when you help your sanity by staying on track, continue hacking away at the debris, to remove each item from the dust bowl in your head, and then, maybe, there's still a ray of hope that it will all get done and done properly - the Slow March of Progress.

Excuses - trying to stay away from the emotional, depressing, anger filled, distractions that can put a halt to the Slow March of Progress and turn it into the I Don't Give a Flick Anymore - Lying in Bed All Day Doldrums.

Weathered - Everything looks weathered. My car, my house, my poor coat, my boots, my life, my hair, my face, and my patience. Winter needs to pick up its long grey weathered coat and get out of here!

Space - Home on the range. Vast Space. Free range chickens. Space to run. Time to Run. Space time continuum. Time to spare. Time to think. Thinking freely. Running freely. Freedom. Space equals Freedom. I want a lot of both.

Distractions - Lots of them.  To stop you, to boost you, to help you weather the bad stuff, to keep you from doing the good stuff, to give you space, to give you excuses, to offer balance or to keep you off balance, or to take the pressure off or to turn up the heat.  It could go either way.

Either way, head over to UnMom for more Random Tuesday Thoughts.

Don't Expect Any Doggie Back-Up

When everyone in the house heard the loud thump on the floor, the three of us looked at each other. Two of us jumped up immediately to investigate.

The third one made a bee-line for the back door and wanted out of the house.

Smokey is no guard dog.

My Brain is having an Eclipse

I'm feeling kind of random. My head is so full of stuff that I can't think straight. There's about five lists floating around in there and they're all getting mixed up. Instead of progress, I wander around trying to figure out what to do next. Too much data. Does not compute. Overload. Overload.
Obviously, I need more coffee.

Random thought:
Weather - Seven days of Caribbean breezes, lovely cool bright mornings, perfect warm afternoons, and never ending blue skies. The feeling is still inside of me and I'm holding on to that feeling for dear life. Because the day I came back to Michigan it was 22 degrees for a high, and has stayed that way since the second week in December. Everywhere I look, the sky, the ground, the snow, the cars covered in salt are all cold and grey. Grey, grey, grey.

I regularly pause to meditate on the island I just left with its blue skies and warm breezes. Closing my eyes, I can still feel the warmth. Yes, I still got it. It helps me get through these wintery days.

Random thought:
Christmas Menu - How can I make a shopping list, when Sister After Me still hasn't decided on the menu yet. Times a tickin', which means I'll be at some grocery store in the middle of the night or worst yet on Christmas Eve day. Please. No. More. Stores.

Random thought:
Lil' Dragons and Kid's Christmas Party - Baking away and wrapping forty little trinkets for my kung fu students. Luckily a sub-par wrap job is fine because how else can you wrap yo-yos, poppers, sling shots with parachute skateboard guys, princess wands, jean stickers, and flip cars?  Any way you can.

Random thought:
Wrapping Christmas Gifts for the family like a Crazy Woman - until three in the morning. Feet hurt, something is poking me in the back, and my state of mind isn't getting any better. I'm hoping a little snooze will help. Decided at 2:22am that I should take a gander at the total lunar eclipse.I ran outside  trying to find the moon's position in the sky. Took me a few moments to realize that it was cloudy.

Random thought:
"Been shopping?  Nooooo, I've been shopping." Done as of yesterday. No more stores. (Sigh of relief.)

Random thought:
Miss My Mommy - When I got back from the Caribbean, I sent my mom a box full of stuff she forgot to pack. Before I taped up the box, I got my santa hat and put it into the box. I know she'll wear it for at least two weeks, until they celebrate Three Kings Day in January. She said the weather turned worse after I left. It rained hard for days. My mother said that "the island was sad to see me go and was crying." Me too island, me too.

Now that we have gone full circle with my random thoughts, go over the Keely at UnMom for more of Random Tuesday Thoughts.

Whistler's Mother

Let me start out by saying, I will be 50 something in a couple of months. I've been told that I look younger. I chose to believe people when they say that, because I'm always grasping for straws of hope that age hasn't caught up with me yet. But actually it's probably because I don't have that "put together look" that most women learn by now. Anyways, I dress for comfort and warmth.  And I'm feeling and looking old. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of wearing clothes that don't flatter.  I look at my dismal wardrobe and think, "What was I thinking?"

So after watching a mountain of episodes of the program, "What Not to Wear" and several marathons of "Say Yes to the Dress" and rushing home every Thursday to watch my favorite program "Project Runway," I've come to learn the magical powers of the empire waist.  I've learned what an A-line skirt can do for the legs. I learned that wearing baggy clothing to hide your body backfires. I learned that any size woman can find clothes that make her look terrific. I learned the meaning of the flattering silhouette, proportion, styling, and couture.

So after a few months of experimentation, I'm buying things I never would have even looked at before. I went sleeveless for the first time this summer.  I bought my first sandals. Sandals that show my feet and toes. Egads!  I try everything on and if it doesn't look absolutely fabulous on me, I won't buy it. Not even if it is 60% off!

I straightened my curly hair.  It's actually pretty long. My stomach got flatter when I figured out what foods made me feel inflamed and got rid of them. I still need to start an exercise program, but girl, I've been saying that for three, four, five decades.

Compliments are nice to hear again. People ask me if I have lost weight. Not an ounce. But miracle upon miracles, I got whistled at and not by the 70-year-old, old dude down the street.  I haven't been whistled at in 25 years. I got whooped at too.   Hells Bells!

Men, again, look me over instead of look over me. It's a nice nod to my ego, but since I've been working on reaching an ego-less state, the effect was negligible.  Plus for some inexplicable reason, I found I didn't really miss or even want that kind of attention. I forgot what it felt like to be given a USDA meat grade upon inspection. It's disconcerting. I'm definitely not Prime nor Choice. Hoping for the Select cut. But now, I only want to be selected by my one and only man.

I never thought I would get noticed in that way again. I knew the wolf whistling days were way, way over.  Apparently, the key here is flattering clothes and - great distance.  At a distance (at least a half a block) I look effin' hot!

But it's hard to keep it all up. It's easy to go back to the comfort of my sweats or baggy jeans. Been in them again for about a month. But I plan to keep it up and have my eye on revamping my winter wardrobe.

The last guy that drove by and whistled was rather young. He stuck his body out of the car waving his hands. I just shook my head, perturbed that he couldn't tell the difference and yelled for him to get a pair of glasses.

I was old enough to be that whistler's mother.

Planning a Surprise Party Takes Over Your Life

Well hello there, Random Tuesday Thoughts.  I have so much random stuff to tell you, especially after the weeks of adrenalin rushes, trials and tribulations, and random stuff that happens to you when you are trying to put together a surprise birthday party.



Surprise parties are hard to give, especially when you live with the person who is supposed to be the surprisee. The idea popped in my head about a month ago. Once I got the go ahead from my sister, she's letting me use her home for the party, I made a time chart. I made lists and lists. I planned and strategized. Timing was everything.

Then you start lying, and lying, and lying. Damn. I didn't bargain for this part of the plan. I needed to make up stories as to why I was going to my sister's so much. Why was I making so much food? Why was I doing all the work? Why did he have to go anyways? Who was going to be there? Why was my sister throwing this event?  This lying part was getting to me.

The universe can be very helpful during times like this. One, QueenMaker and I had argued, so we weren't too communicative. Two, the day before the party, he was called away to a late afternoon meeting. Then the universe somehow gave him a second meeting to go to right after the first one and he wasn't expected home until midnight.

Yahoo! I finished cooking, did some last minute shopping, and took everything to my sister's. He didn't suspect a thing and the party was a great success.

Then the universe does random stuff that can hinder you when you are trying to keep a secret. The week of the party, when I'm doing the final push to get everything ready, QueenMaker decides to take one of our cars into the shop for repairs.
"But I NEED a car this week."
"Why, we can drive together."
Mayday! Mayday! I might need to borrow a car!

Luckily it was done the same day.

Then we had to give a presentation to a local elementary girl scout troop called Stranger Smart, which took much longer than I thought it would. I have to say it was a blast, the girls were terrific, artistic, and super fun. But time was a tickin' and I needed to get out of there.

Then all week, I was deflecting our four to eight year old students that kept running up to
QueenMaker to ask about his party. I'd cover with, "Isn't that cute? They want to give you a party at the school."

By Friday, my head was swirling, running lists in my head, running around with last minute errands. I had a premonition the day before, when I thought, I better keep focused because I'm driving. It's not good to be so scattered. It's the perfect time to get a ticket.

Then my mother called me to ask if I would pick up her prescription.  Dear me! So I added that to the list and hurried to pharmacy.

I was so distracted I thought, I REALLY SHOULD NOT be driving right now. And the police officer driving behind me felt the same way. A yield sign was recently replaced with a new stop sign a few weeks ago near the pharmacy. "Remember," I thought to myself.  But two seconds later, I rolled slowly past it, merging in front of a police cruiser.

I wholeheartedly agreed and admitted to him that I had just rolled past a stop sign. He took pity on me and thanked me for my honesty and instead of the 3 points and $500 fine for going through a stop sign, he gave me a ticket for impeding traffic, only $135 fine, no points. I have to thank the man. He probably saved my life.

Damn this party is costing me more and more. Not only do I get to add another $135 to the tab, but my brain cells are fried, my body is working on fumes, and I've lied more in one week than in my whole life.

The adrenalin drop was profound. I've been in high gear for two weeks, trying to keep twenty balls in the air at the same time. Every spare second was used to its fullest. I planned, strategized, worked, cooked, lied, covered every contingency, then when it was all over, I crashed. I slept for two days.

The only thing is that the party was over so quickly. I didn't get to visit as much as I wanted. I was stuck in the kitchen. Everyone got there at 6:30pm and three hours later, they were gone. Where did they all go?  Where's the "party 'til you drop" mentality I was hoping for?  Are we all getting that old? Sigh.


Go visit Keely at UnMom.  The party is still going on strong and not a fuddy-duddy in the whole group.

RTT: Household Workouts

Random Tuesday Thoughts is here.


Picking a room today and spending an hour in it.  Clean it, purge it, reorganize it.  I promise to stay in ONE room.

My cleaning style has always been go to go from room to room. For example, I find something that needs to go into the linen closet. Linen closet could use some work. Start working on linen closet. I notice towels are missing. Hit the laundry room to get towels, laundry room needs tidying up. Notice floor needs mopping. Start to mop.  And on and on and on.  All rooms always have that work in progress feel.

Today, ONE ROOM.


Speaking about cleaning.  I've taken a job cleaning a loft apartment in one of the trendier downtown districts. I usually go every other week. Unfortunately for me, all the surfaces are either glass, stainless steel, stone countertops, slate floors, stone and marble floors. Altogether a bitch to make it all shine. It takes me four hours minimum. I call it my workout. My body screams at me for days after it.


Speaking of body ache. I mentioned to Queen Maker that my body really ached from all that "exercise" cleaning that loft.  He says his body aches everyday because of his training and exercise regime. You mean that this is how you WANT to feel, all the time? No wonder no one sticks with exercise.


Speaking about getting exercise. Sister After Me asked me what my free time looked like. She has access to a lake and wants to buy a raft. She's looking for a partner to paddle around the lake for exercise and fun. Random thoughts popped into my head.

Panic, life preserver, holes, leaks, shrinking raft, feet not touching bottom, a yellow flotilla of death, shifting uncomfortably to one side then the other trying to maneuver an oar, wet butt.  The usual.

I think I'll pass.

Speaking about passing. I think it's time to pass the baton to the next blog at UnMom. So visit and read a while. It'll be a workout.

Good Sleep Better Than ...

Yahoo!  I SLEPT ALL NIGHT last night.  Didn't get up once.  So, so awesome.

Been a full seven days when sleep has been good and last night was the icing on the cake.

I haven't been here in a few years it seems.  I'm going to guess that there is a "Pause in the Meno."

Yuk, yuk.  I'm making bad puns.  That's how giddy I am.

Yessssss!

RTT: The Pendulum Won't Stop Swinging

Tuesdays mean Random Tuesday Thoughts.  So head over to Keely's for more of the same.


Okie Dokie, here's the deal.   I'm feeling rather yin and yang this week. The pendulum won't stop swinging.

My kid is all grown up and doesn't need me anymore.  Ha!   It's liberating and very, very disturbing at the same time.    Bitter Sweet.

Our business is picking up lately but still on life support. The cart keeps coming around, but the business keeps picking up its head and proclaiming, "I'm not dead yet."    Optimistic Realist.

My mom and dad are away for two months.  I miss them but at the same time I'm feeling "guilty happy" because I've got more free time on my hands.   Guilty Comfort.

My house needs a good cleaning, but I don't feel like doing it.  But that little pan in the sink needs a good scouring.  I think I'll spend 20 minutes brillo-ing all the dark spots off until it shines.   Lazy Ambition.

I was all ready to participate in Earth Hour. The staunch conservationist and avid recycler in me was ready to turn off the lights. Then I got all militant on my ass and thought to hell with it.  I'm not a joiner.  I don't do causes.  I stood there arguing with myself.  What's up with that?  Oh yeah.  Menopause.   Crystallized Moments of Confusion.

The gray at my temples is becoming too prominent. My sisters keep telling me to color my hair.  But I don't want to bend to peer pressure or vanity.  But I guess I'll do it anyways, because I do want to look a few years younger.  Better to Look Good than to Feel Good.

It's been a weird week.

Will the Real Me, Please Stand Up, Please Stand Up

It's supposed to be about ME.  Jen at Sprite"s Keeper assignment was to write something about myself.

Well after years of living with me, I've finally realized a few things.  I can tell you who I was.  I guess I'm pretty much the same person, expect a little wiser, a little more retrospect, a lot less angst.

ME, ME, Me, Me, Me, me, me.  


See that little me there at the end of the line.  That's the me I like to be.  Hopefully no one will notice me.  At least not too much.  It rare to be the middle me, but that is who I play most of the day. The big me, no way, no how. Okay, maybe when I'm really mad, then big Scary ME comes out.  But is there a big vivacious ME? No.  I like the middle, balance you know.

I'm a lazy woman but only when it comes to housework.  Give me a project, work assignment, a job doing for others, cleaning someone else's home and I'm a dynamo. I'm an overachiever. I'll go beyond  the call of duty. I'll think of every contingency, complete the task in lightening speed, stay until its done or obliterate every speck of dust.

Apparently I am in need of a lot of approval.  I guess I do need to be noticed, and I get it through the work I do.  It seems I need people to say good job, great presentation, the house never looked better. See that, I redirected your gaze at my work, not at me.  Good job.

Here is one example of things I won't do for myself but will for someone else.

Like most women my age, I should lose weight.  I should get more exercise.  I want to be a healthier, a stealthier me. But will I do that for myself?  No, it's not convenient right now.  I don't feel it right now. I don't have the motivation the drive. All the excuses or permissions I give myself not to work out.

Well now I am dog-sitting Smokey.  And guess what?  Smokey usually lives with my 80 year old parents, so I know he doesn't get the exercise he needs to burn off  extra energy or to keep healthy.  So in my quest to do a great job, to do for someone or something else, to prove that I am the best dog-sitter in the world, Smokey walks every day for a mile and a half and we walk fast.

Every. Single. Effin. Day.  And we both reap the benefits.

So me apparently needs to be needed to be the best me I can.

Now give yourself a hug and go to Sprite's Keeper to read more wonderful ME stories

Seven Weeks of Smokey

Seven more weeks. Smokey is staying with us while Mom and Dad are sunning themselves in the Caribbean, really going back to their childhood homes.  This is Smokey, the most chill dog ever.  I don't believe in endowing animal with human traits, but he is...

the most patient, loving, comically endearing dog, such a character.  Perfect for my parents who are in their 80's.

QueenMaker and I had dogs when we were children, but we never owned one during our married life.  The whole family decided that we were just too busy to give a dog the quality of life it deserved.  So its been 40 years since a dog has graced our lives.

I would never volunteer to take care of a dog, but for some reason, Smoky loves me.  He adores me.  Maybe it's because every time I visit, Smokey gets a complete doggy massage.  I look at that fur and I immediately feel the itch.  So I figure he must too.  That is why he loves me.  I'm way too empathetic.

So I mentioned that I may, possibly, give some thought, ask hubby first, not sure, but thinking about it, on the fence about taking him. That means its a done deal to my Mom.

Every maybe hints at possibility.  Possibility means a potential positive outcome.  So every maybe means a positive and even enthusiastic Yes! to my mom.  She will always say, "But you said..."  I didn't want to disappoint her.

So we have Smokey for seven weeks.  You never know what to expect from a dog that doesn't belong to you.  But he is true to character.  With a big sigh of relief for me and especially to hubby, the dog shows great self control.  It's as though he has always been here.

Today, I swear he did a seven take.  We confused him, momentarily.  First I saw the double take, then the quad, then a seven take!  It was simply awesome.

So I'm beginning to feel like a "mommy blogger,"  okay more like a beloved auntie with a nephew visiting for a month or so. He's becoming our little bundle of joy, waiting for us, greeting us with so much love and enthusiasm, reveling in our affection, wanting to play.

And he can stand on his hind legs forever too.



 

RTT: Challenge, Life's Motivator

I am so excited.  Project Runway starts on Thursday.  This is the only "reality" program I will watch.  Why?  Because I get to watch super talented people, displaying their versions of art in clothing form down a runway.  I am not a fashionista, but I do love sewing.  I love construction.  I love tailoring.  I love the drape.   I love artisans.  I love to watch the talented express themselves. They are challenged and they always step up to produce some great pieces.

I wish I could challenge Dr. Henry Louis Gates, Jr.  to research my family tree.  In an upcoming episode on PBS, he is tracking down the ancestry of an interesting group of people, Meryl Streep, Stephen Colbert, Yo Yo Ma, Queen Noor, among others.

Remember Gates? He's the guy that President Obama invited to the White House to have a conciliatory beer with the police officer that offended him.

I've tried to trace our family tree, but I found it to be a monumental task.  My major problem stems from the way names are recorded with both mother and father's name as part of the last name.  In some cases, it was normal practice to have the lineage be carried by the mother, which adds to the confusion.  I would have to travel to the island to find birth records in churches, or family bibles.  Then to trace roots beyond the island would mean to travel to Spain.  From what I understand they kept excellent records when they conquered the Caribbean, but the records are in Spain.  I know some of my descendants are Taino indians that were enslaved by the Spanish.  My last name means Bethlehem in Spanish, which means we took the last name of the slave owner.  My mother's ancestry comes directly from Spain.  How about it Mr. Gates? Care to take up the challenge?  Call me.

Speaking of challenge, I have been challenging myself to get stronger and healthier, or at least, not to punish my body.  I took a survey on a women's health website about my habits. It tallied my answers and then gave me the results. It basically said, "You are very hard on your body."  I sort of knew that in the back of my mind, but now it was there spelled out, something I had to confront. Why was I punishing my body by depriving it of what it needed most?

My challenge is to be good to my body. It's not about weight loss, though I suspect that kindness to my body will help in that endeavor.

• Hydrate it. 
• Feed it on regular intervals stretching it out to four or five small meals a day. 
• Allow it to sleep. 
• Find time to go to the bathroom because apparently you are training your body not to expel and it will forget how to do it.  Really?   Use or lose it people.  
• Breathe deeply twice a day. 
• Put my feet up. 
• And think positively.  Because like Stuart Smiley on Saturday Night Live, "I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like Me." 

No go over to Keely, because there are a lot of doggone, good and smart people over there.

Silent Parents - An Enigma

Silent parents, standing back, blending in the background, watching their children.  Patiently waiting without opinion in their eyes, without interference, or suggestion. There was no boredom, no tension, no emotion at all.  A decision was being made and they were totally not part of the process.  They didn't factor into the equation at all.

I saw this image four times in the same store, a big chain music store.  I walked into the drum room of the store.  A young boy of twelve was trying out a set displayed on the floor.  He went from one drum set to another, his concentration on the feel of each set.  His mother stood to the side, and just looked.... just looked like what?  I didn't recognize that look. Was it resignation?  Didn't look like it.

Then I walked into the piano room.  An even younger boy of nine or ten was playing, his mother standing close behind him.  I was impressed.  He was good.  He moved to the next piano, checking the action of the keys before playing another tune. She had the same expression on her face as the mom in the drum room. When I walked in to investigate who was playing, she looked up. I half expected to see a prideful smile, then I thought she might look annoyed at me for the intrusion, but her face showed no expression at all. Interesting.

The same thing in the guitar area.  A father stood silently behind his son as the son tried out several of the electric guitars.  Wow, this is not a look I am used to seeing.  Another father was watching his son of fourteen in the acoustic guitar room.

No involvement, no intrusion in their child's search for an instrument.  Because an instrument must be found my its owner, right?  No one outside can make the decision for an artist, especially for the talented young people I heard today.  The parents stood to the side as though they were wallpaper.

I realized that there was something else missing.  I didn't see the seeking of approval from the kids.  They never looked up at their parent like most kids do, the whole "look at me, mommy" or "isn't this cool." I was waiting for it, but it didn't come. Interaction between parent and child were nil, the child in deep concentration, the parent purposely looking on dispassionately. I figured that the kids must be here with Christmas money and didn't want or need their parents input. But it seemed to be more than that. I usually have a good sense of reading people's expressions, but I couldn't figure this one out.

Was it more that this was a realm that could not be shared? Was the patient parent just waiting for their child to emerge? Was it a learned response from years of conditioning by the child?

It was a puzzlement.

Purge First, Clean Later

Spin Cycle this week has to do with Spring Cleaning.  I think that the only way my house will be cleared  of all debris and elephant sized dust bunnies, is if we dynamite it.  But I do have some lofty goals and maybe, just maybe, I will accomplish a few things.

 

Purging, a goal I have longed thought about.  So many things to purge so little time.  How can I think about Spring Cleaning when there is so much stuff and no place to put it.  Seriously, I'm waiting for the ceiling to come down because of all the stuff we have stored in the attic.

Like the attic, the basement is brimming. The garage packed. The closets are overflowing.  They are full of plunder that we have collected over the years.  Good stuff.  New stuff still in the packages.  Stuff waiting for the call to become a functional piece in our lives.

How to Purge myself of this stuff?  Sometimes you can't look at it.  Some things are oh so sentimental and sweet.  Some were a fantastic deal.  Some still have tags on them. There is so much stuff buried in the back I don't even know or remember what we have stored there.

Junk Drawer - Get a garbage bag, close your eyes, and then dump the drawer over.  This is a JUNK drawer for goodness sake.  Don't look through it because you'll start picking out a myriad of useless bits and pieces.

Shoes - gross, I smelled them.  As we get older the our feet flatten out, so we need a wider shoe anyways, so you might as well get rid of those super pointy shoes.  Also I've determined from reading so many blogs that many folks are on meds, some really potent ones, so stability is an issue too. I think I want meds too? Wait, maybe not.

Me, I plan never to work in an office again, if I can help it. So out they all go.  Plus if I do, that just means I can buy cute NEW shoes. (Now, of course, since I said never...)

Business Suits - the same as above.  I don't want to work anywhere that requires a man's style power suit.   Since I worked at the bank, they are bankers suits, conservative and boring.  Eight suits, out.

Closets - Yes I have several outfits in there with tags on them.  They were such a great deal that I had to, I just had to buy them even if they were one size smaller. I vowed that I would get into one day.  Well that day never came.  Out, they go.

Functionality - None.  I'm beginning to look at my furniture.  I need pieces that work.  I need storage. Most of it is hand me down pieces thrown together and have no style and most disturbing no function.  Coffee table, going.  Coffee table books, going.  Four small, ugly, overloaded CD and DVD holders, going.

My problem is that QueenMaker and I are huge recyclers.  If we can find a second or third function for an object, or think we can, we keep it around.  If we want to get rid of it, it means extra time to sort and carry this stuff to the appropriate agency.

So much work to purge.  Should we ebay, or maybe send things to a consignment shop.  Should we take a ride to the recyclers, should I just put everything in a box with a big FREE sign on it. BUT, this adds so much more work to the whole purging process.  Maybe I'll just keep it all another year.

I need to be like Gathering. Dust, although her blog name describes perfectly my main problem when I do get around to spring cleaning.  She did a fantastic job and in only one week.

I need to be like Jen at Sprite's Keeper, because when she's bored or has a little extra time, the first thought that comes into that terrific mind of hers is, "What can I clean?"  WTF!  Mine is, "Do I have time for a nap?" or "I really should get around to doing that."

First, purge.  Then clean.  Then nap.   Got it.

And of course, stop cleaning for a second and visit the Spin Cycle. (I knew I'd find a distraction somewhere.)

RRT - Word Pop Ups

Fish - I'm always thinking the word fish.  Why?  Why?  Why?

Bedding - You know.

Tree - Garbage day tomorrow or keep it up another week.

Adult Child - home

New Year - Decisions must be made!

Laziness - Guilty, my biggest flaw. Consequently,  feeling the perpetual guilt, but still won't do anything about it.

Cold - Cold, shiver, need another layer.

Coffee - Need some now!  Up an hour already, how could I have gone this long without a cup?

Mom - Wants a visit today.

Dad - Never spend enough time with this guy. Clock is ticking.

Time - Never enough.

Random Tuesday Thoughts - over here. 

Season's Clock is Ticking Away

Here is another installment of Random Tuesday Thoughts hosted by the lovely Keely.

Christmas Tree - Grown Up Christmas – just not the same.  We didn’t get a tree last year.  The thought of stomping around in the cold to cut down our annual tree didn’t seem worth it, plus we just couldn’t find the time.  I’ve lost the Christmas spirit.  My house is a the size of a shoe box, removal of furniture is required, the hauling of boxes and boxes of ornaments, lights, wreaths, and garlands just seemed like too much work, for what, three weeks of watching needles fall.

The thrill is gone.  See already it’s happening again.  It’s a mere two and a half weeks out, and I can’t see when we will have the time to put up a tree.  What happened to the festive home I used to know?  Gone since my kid left?  I spend Christmas Eve at my in-laws. I spend Christmas Day at the sister’s.  So why do we need a tree anyways?

I need to find a tree soon otherwise it won’t happen.  I mean seriously, Queen Maker and I were together for seven years before we even had Beloved.  So why am I so down on working this hard for Christmas. I think I'm using Beloved's absence as an excuse. I need an intervention.  But please don’t send three ghosts to do it.

I am not being a good Christmas Role-Model.

Baking – Now here is another story.  I’m always up for baking. Because economic times have been hard, I’ve baked a lot of gifts last year.  Cinnamon Rolls that were to die for, Spinach Pie triangles, cookies upon cookies, to give to friends and clients.  

But unfortunately I sample each and every one.  Sprite’s Keeper reminded me about the battle of restraint that I am going to embark on soon.

Baking – Fun.  Baking – Creative.  Baking – Keeps house warm.

Baking – Good.  Sampling everything – BAD.

I am not being a good Health and Nutrition Role Model.

Shopping – nearly done.  The thought of going out in the next two weeks makes me cringe.  I need to get it done soon because I need to do a lot of baking and decorating.  I need to have time to enjoy these things, not feel like I’m adding to the burden pile. I scour the store circulars and comparison shop like no other.  I am a champion of finding a great gift at a ridiculously low price.  I buy quality at bargain basement prices.

I am not a good Stimulate Our Economy Role-Model.

Sewing – Make a steam punk vest for Beloved for Christmas.  Need to start that project, soooon.  Also bought brocade material in an Asian motif to make a jacket for Queen Maker. Like that’s ever going to happen before Christmas. If I ever get them done, I will post pictures.

Wrapping Gifts – Thank God for gift bags.

Christmas Projects with my niece, Amber, 11 years old, and my friend, Hailey, 5 years old. Hailey, this Friday.  Amber, next week.  I’m looking forward to creating and crafting with the girls. It can be so relaxing and it’s a great way to keep the bonds of friendship strong.

Christmas Get-Togethers – How many invitations will we turn down this year?  It means I need to bring something, preferable food. My hair will never, ever cooperate and will never look fabulous no matter how much time I spend on it. I hate the whole dressing up thing and that is bad.  It means that looking sweet in a new dress and heels doesn’t get seen often. What, Queen Maker? I’m sorry, the sweatshirts and ponytail not getting it for you anymore?  Call What Not to Wear!  Use it or lose it.  And I’ve lost it. 

I am not a Good Friend or a Social Role Model.

I feel time ticking away.  The flight or fight mechanism is kicking in people.  I chose to run away from Christmas last year, but I’m planning to stick it out and stay and fight. Wish me luck.

First Step:

Put some Bailey’s in my coffee and play “A Charlie Brown Christmas” by Vince Guaraldi over and over.  If that doesn’t put me in the mood, I don’t know what will.

Acting Squirrely

Squirrel.  Big fat brown squirrel chewing on my back porch.  Begone you stupid squirrel!

Holes, someone is digging holes into my newly seeded lawn area out front.  Everyday find a new spot. They're more like shallow cups not exactly holes.  Wonder what's doing that and why?

Oh, squirrel.  Big fat brown squirrel is messing with me.  He's eating my back porch and digging up my lawn.  Where's the pellet gun?  Lucky squirrel.  I don't have a pellet gun.

Gigantic seed pods.  How did these seed pods get here half eaten and strewn across all four steps? Who leaves gigantic seed pods as a booby trap to kill innocent women carrying their groceries in the house?   I know it's on purpose because who ever it was spread them across the full length of the steps so I had to step on them. Is that you squirrel?

Urban tumble weeds.  They blow between the houses, swirl a bit, then down the street.  Why can't my neighbors put lids on their trash cans?  Hey! don't you know you can recycle those bags?

Door window.  Big brown squirrel looking through my door window.  WTH?  What's up squirrel?

Getting creepy.  Squirrel antics making me  uncomfortable.  Going on for weeks. Is this really an ordinary squirrel or a zombie squirrel?

Barking.  A supposedly sane woman barking like a ferocious chihuahua at big bad brown squirrel.

No more squirrel. Yeah!  But I think he still had the last laugh.

Go over to Keely at UnMom.  Check out how random folks can be. 

Random Germ-y Family Affairs

Yes, we gathered together for yet another family event. This time it was my beloved niece's birthday.  Whenever the clan gathers, and we gather a lot, there is at least 22 or more people in the house ages four months to eighty years old. These events despite their joyful, fun filled, somewhat harmonious family state of affairs have a more ominous side to them.  I'm beginning to dread them just a little.

They have become a germ convention.  All the kissing and hugging, the clasping of hands, the carrying of sick babies and snotty children.  Carriers of disease coming from all quarters, college students whose campuses are under siege, old folks just out of the hospital THAT day, parents who left a child behind at home because "he threw up just before we left," children that stayed home all week because of fever, not to mention the overtaxed bathroom that over twenty people have use. Aaaugh!

Checking vitals everyday now.  Was that a little soreness in my throat just now? Was that a regular sneeze (my, is this place dusty) or was that a sickness sneeze? Are my glands *engorged?

My Beloved is a tea connoisseur, working at the Crazy Wisdom Book Store in Ann Arbor, for the last two years.  He brought home a tea called Beloved's Don't Get Sick Tea, one he blended himself. Sweet kid, always thinking about his mommy.  (Oh yea, and his daddy too.)

What? Fever for the last two days? Aaaugh! He's got the sickness too!

This past Sunday my mother and I got an unexpected treat at church when we found her goddaughter there.  Maria is a nurse.  There is a point in the mass when we offer each other a sign of peace, which means shaking hands with everyone around you.  It's the only time that people will actually look you in the eye and smile, otherwise its stone face. Well as soon as it was over, Maria grabbed her purse in a fury and took out hand sanitizer.  She grabbed her sister's hand and put a dollop, then she grabbed my mother's then mine.  It was so overt that everyone we shook hands with turned to look giving us the ole fish eye. Usually I try to do things like that on the sly.

Well at first I thought she was overreacting until I look to my right and saw a man helping his eldest daughter.  Her head was in her lap and he was stroking her hair. I wondered if she was sick.  No.  He was removing the lice from the back of her head.   Aaaaaaauuuuuugggghhhh!

Now go visit Keely at UnMom for more Random posts.  At least they won't be a sick as mine although I could be wrong about that.
* that's for jim styro
 

No Room to Think

The Spin Cycle this week is parental confessions.  Check out more Spins on Jen's Sprite's Keeper.

Confessions of a mom when her child was three years old.

Aaargh. I'm going mad.  There were times when the only voice I could hear in my head was that of an adorable somewhat high pitched voice belonging to an equally adorable little boy. He learned not only to ask questions and form sentences, he's learned he could ask them non-stop.  Question after question would fly my way, which I dutifully answered as best I could and I have to admit, I was pretty good at it.  

Then he would check my answers by repeating what I had said over and over.  We moved from two word phrases like "Look mommy." or "What's that?" to requests for full explanations about the world around him and then ask why, until each explanation needed another until he was fully satisfied. Then he would take the information and talk and talk about what he had just heard, peppering me with, "Isn't that right mommy?"

After a while I realized that my willingness to answer all his questions was a way for him to keep me near him, which was really sweet of him.  It was a way to get my full attention, every second of the day, the unconsciously sweet little manipulator. If I started to move from the room or look in another direction, he would recognize the body language to flee and ask another question.  He sometimes grabbed my chin to make me look at him.

At one point I told him, that he needed to give mommy a break because the only voice I heard in my head was his, that I couldn't hear my own thinking voice anymore, that my head was full of his questions and that there was hardly any room for my own questions.

After a while, he looked at me with concern and asked, "Is there room up there now mommy?"  Yes baby, there's room.