Therapy

Tonight I had my therapy appointment.

Wait, let me back up.

Last week I went to see my chiropractor. He also does holistic healing using the body's messages to find the emotional core of whatever symptoms your body displays, or something along those lines. I went to him to see if he could do his voodoo on my brain and open the floodgates, so to speak.

We had a productive time. At least I thought so. He asked for 30 minutes, and I was there for an hour and a half, discussing resentments, past and present. All from some clue he got from my pancreas, or some such weird thing. Anyway, I was encouraged by that and looking forward to my appointment tonight.

So, back to tonight.

I met the therapist, and she asked me a little about the depression that I had commented about on the paperwork. I told her that it was something I've struggled with since childhood, and she asked if it was genetic. I mentioned that my mother probably had had a chemical imbalance and was either manic depressive or bi-polar. Since I referred to her in the past tense, she asked if my mother was dead. I said no.

That led to some discussion of my relationship (or lack of) with my mother. After about 15-20 minutes of that she stopped me. At this point we were about 30 minutes into the session. She stopped me and said that frankly she wasn't what I needed, and referred me to someone who specializes in EMDR and trauma treatments. She couldn't explain what EMDR was, so I'll have to let you know what it is when I find out, but she seemed to think I needed something more intense/direct/effective than just talking about my issues.

She even told me what to say to the lady she was referring me to. I wrote it down. She said "go ahead and tell her all that on her voicemail." She seemed to imply there was some urgency in getting in to see her.

Go figure. I thought I was doing pretty well, I just needed a little help with letting my emotions out. Hunh. Fired by my therapist halfway through the first session.

I'll keep you posted on the new one when I get an appointment. Now I'm curious...

Needless to say, she didn't charge me.

Emotions

I know I mentioned this in a previous post, but I've been thinking quite a bit about emotions. I have not started on my quest to find them, but the quest itself, and the possible outcome has been on my mind.

So, according to Dr. Laura Berman, if you suppress one or more emotions, you suppress them all, since they all come from the same center in the brain. I know I've mentioned that before. I think I'm going somewhere with this...

The five emotions, as described in ysmarko's blog, are: Anger, Hurt, Sadness, Fear, and Joy. I think he was saying that all others are a subset of these. This sounds about right to me, but not being an expert on emotion, I'm willing to take his word for it.

My question is... Why are 4 out of the 5 unpleasant?

Long time...

Has it really been since Thanksgiving that I last posted? I deserved the nudge, Frank! Thanks.

I've been avoiding writing because I can't think of anything positive to say. Not wanting to appear the malcontent that I naturally am, I decided to refrain altogether.

But a little birdie told me that the occasional lapse in my recovery is acceptable, so here goes.

I've been feeling really low since Vauna's death. I really feel like I'm an emotional zombie. I have nothing going on inside, and honestly, I don't like it. I seem to be getting better and better at repressing emotion, to the point that it's no longer a choice, but just a natural reflex.

It hasn't been too long since I last held back by choice, or let loose on a lonely drive. But lately? Nothing. And I have to admit to sinking into a bit of depression. I think the holidays contribute to that, though.

It's not a good time to be depressed, let me tell you! There's a ton of things that need to happen in the month of December, and this year especially I can't afford to be moping around, pissing my days away! My business is struggling, my thesis needs writing, my records need to be updated for year-end tax prep, and Christmas needs all the attention that Christmas generally takes. Definitely not the time to be hiding my head under the covers.

So I made an appointment to see a therapist a week from Monday. I've seen a couple in the past with unfavorable results, but this lady came well recommended, so I'm willing to try it again. I'm hoping that she can help me figure out where my problem lies. I'll let you know how it goes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. I'm looking forward to the long weekend!

Thursday I'll be doing my annual Run to Feed the Hungry with my friend. This will be our 4th year, I think. We always do the 5k untimed walk, but it is still fun. It's crazy to see 30,000 people all crammed into a small space at the start of the race. Apparently this year they've made some changes and staggered the start time. Hopefully that will make the crush at the beginning a little easier.

It takes us about an hour to walk the 5k in the morning. This year I won't have to hurry back to make sure everything gets in the oven as we are having our Thanksgiving family meal on Friday! I thought it would be easier on the "other half" of everyone's family to have it on a separate day than to have everyone rushing from one place to another to fit in time with both families. It seems to have been a good idea, because now we'll have a bigger crowd! I'm looking forward to a more relaxed time together.

After all of that, I get a massage. Woohoo! The day after the walk, I'll probably need it. I trade massage for after-school care, and it's well worth the trade! I love trading services!

Saturday we have tickets to see Trans-Siberian Orchestra again. This is another annual tradition. It will be our sixth time, I think. We've gone every year they have come to our town to see them perform. If you're not familiar with TSO, they give an incredible Christmas concert every year. It's a Christmas story told through narration and music, the same every year, but it never gets old. They are really a talented group, and I love the story format. They make truly beautiful music. My son really loves the music. This will be his third time seeing them.

Sometime in there I'd also like to get the stripping done on the kid's playroom floor. I ripped out the carpet and am planning on leaving the concrete bare. That requires stripping off all of the glue from the carpet pad, cleaning the mess left by the builders, patching the cracks in the concrete, then sealing the whole floor. Hopefully, I'll be left with a clean and shiny concrete floor that is easy to clean and fairly mess proof.

I'm hoping this will provide a play surface that will open more possibilities for messy play without having to worry about the damage to the floors. Once the daycare is out of my home, I can always cover the concrete again with the bamboo flooring I've been eyeing!

So, that's my long weekend. What are you doing?

Death

My ex's mother died today, and I feel.... nothing.

How is it that I've turned into this emotional zombie? She was very important to me. I spent every evening and weekend sitting by her bed for FIVE MONTHS, when she fell ill a few years ago.

Once she got out of the hospital and went home, though, I distanced myself some. Well, a lot. I'd still visit her, and call her, but not often.

But then, I've kind of distanced myself from everything.

Why do I not feel something? Anything? A radio host I listen to said that if you suppress one emotion you suppress them all. That they all come from the same place in your brain, and there's no way to selectively choose which emotions to suppress.

I know this isn't making sense. I'm rambling. I don't know what's WRONG with me. How in the world does one live like this?

Where The Wild Things Are...

Disclaimer: This may spoil the movie for someone who hasn't seen it and still wants to. Proceed at your own risk!

I took my son to see this movie when it first came out a month ago. I really liked the movie, but couldn't really say why. I couldn't put my finger on what made the movie special.

There were no spectacular plot points to examine, no dramatic action scenes, no happily ever after. It was just a good movie.

And then it hit me. This morning....in the shower...a month after I'd seen the movie, I realized what made it special.

It was real. The story is about a boy, maybe 8 or 9 years old, who deals with the confusion and anger of real life by escaping to a fantasy world of his own making. Then, after spending some period of time there, he realizes that he can't stay there forever, and he goes home. The end.

There was no summation of major breakthroughs, no telling the audience what they had seen, and then how they should feel about it. Just real life. Take from it what you need to, or want to, or can relate to. That's it.

How novel. And refreshing.

Joy

I watched an Oprah today. I don't watch often, but I do record her shows just in case she has someone interesting on.

Apparently she recently had Ellen on her show. I have been a fan of Ellen's for a long time. She's funny. And she says what she thinks, which is refreshing. I'm sure she has more restraint than I do, and even when she does say what she's thinking she manages to make it funny, so she probably doesn't offend nearly as many people as I do. That's admirable too.

And she's not afraid to be who she is.

But I realized something else while watching her with Oprah. Ellen is joyful. You can see it in her face when she speaks, when she laughs, when she smiles. She loves life. Her joy radiates out from her every time she speaks. That joy translates into an optimism that is enviable.

Joy is such an elusive and rare gift. One can be happy, and still not have joy.

And joy is attractive. You can't help but be drawn to true joy.

Optimism is a byproduct of joy. How can you not expect the best out of life when you have the level of contentment and happiness that would be required to be truly joyful? It's a self-perpetuating cycle. Optimism is key to achieving your goals and being content with where you are while you're getting there, therefore contributing to a state of happiness.

Is this the law of attraction? If so, how does one practice joy before actually achieving it?

Children's Conversation

I love listening to the discourse of 2 and 3 year olds! They have such an exuberance about every conversation.

I have one little boy, I'll call him J, who is definitely more comfortable in the company of adults. He is very verbal with adults, freely talking about everything he did yesterday, the toys he has at home, what he's going to do later, etc, etc. However, he almost never converses with the other boys his age. Instead choosing to ask me what they are saying, or tell me what they said.

This morning, he came to ask me what M was talking about. I hadn't heard the conversation, so I called the M over to explain what he had said. Apparently he had been talking to his best friend about doing somersaults. I asked the J if he could do somersaults, and he said no. I asked him if he wanted to learn, and to have the other boys show him, which they were only too happy to do.

Then they all did somersaults for a while, with J running along behind copying what the older boys were doing.

But the funniest part of the whole thing was listening to their conversation.

M: "R! Did you see that?

R: "Yeah."

M, in a high-pitched voice: "Did you see that?"

R: "Look what I can do, M!"

There was much more interesting discourse that has since slipped my mind. It got even more interesting when the 3 year old girl jumped into the conversation. It's fun to hear the serious conversation of a 3 year old!

Thesis Writing

I'm on the verge of having the words to write the last part of the research section of my thesis. It should have been done by last Monday, but I didn't have the words then. I think I might now.

I'm not sure why this part has been so much more difficult for me. The first part was really general, a commentary of why art is beneficial to children in the classroom, and in what way art broadens the mind and teaches something the three "R's" cannot.

The second part was targeting a younger age group (like my group) and more specifically about play. A little more specific topic than "art", but still a general argument for play, referencing studies that have been done throughout the last century on the benefit of play.

My intention for the third, and last, section that I'm writing now is more specific, to give detail on WHY play is beneficial, what the children learn through play, and why it is a valid preschool curriculum. I am arguing that play, given the right materials and environment, can be MORE educational than teaching the alphabet and numbers to a three-year-old, without actually denouncing academic programs.

I don't want to start an argument with the rather large segment of the population that believes that if children learn their alphabet at three, they can learn to read at four, and be reading at a fifth grade level by six. Every child is different, and I'm sure there are some that flourish in this environment. I am trying to present an alternative to rushing children into something they may not be ready for, and explain why it is just as good, if not better, for the child to wait. And play.

This information is something I've searched for (although not ferociously), for the last three years or so. I've learned a lot about developmentally appropriate methods of teaching young children in the various child development classes I've taken since getting into this field. More compellingly, I've heard many experts with incredible credentials talk about the brain development in young children, and how they need certain experiences in order to develop the the ABILITY to read and write.

With all the time I've spent learning something that isn't readily available to the average parent, I'd like to write something FOR parents that easily and convincingly explains what I've learned, backed by "experts" that will hopefully balance out the peer pressure that parents get to have the best, smartest, most talented, exceptional student.

However, because I have specific goals in mind for this section, it seems more difficult to achieve just the right materials. I've been fishing around for a while at trying to explain the collection of evidence I've heard from many different sources without really being able to succinctly compile a compelling argument. It sounds so logical and clear when I hear it, but it somehow gets jumbled and incoherent when I try to pass it on.

I think that's why I've been having such a difficult time writing this section. I want it to be JUST SO, and am scared I won't be able to get across what I want to. Anyway, I'll never know until I try so I guess I should stop writing here, and beginning writing there!

Waldorf Education

I have to say, again, how much I appreciate Waldorf education.

This year my son got his first "grades" teacher. In Waldorf training, kindergarten teachers go through a completely different specialization process than grades teachers, and the Waldorf method treats these ages very differently. Going into the "grades" is a big deal. Ideally, his first grade teacher will be his teacher through 8th grade.

Last year my son's teachers made his second year of kindergarten amazing. If you read my previous Waldorf posts, you know how much I loved his teachers last year.

This year... not so much. Since this school is a public charter, their first priority when hiring a new teacher is a California credential, then any Waldorf training as a bonus. If the teacher does not have both (which is likely), the school contributes to the cost of sending the teacher to Waldorf teacher training. Most of the credentialed teachers at this school are still going through some phase of their Waldorf training.

The teacher that had been originally hired to fill this spot came from another Waldorf charter school in the bay area, had both her state credential and had completed her Waldorf training. She had been a teacher at that school for several years, and was well qualified. However, she changed her mind about leaving her old school about a month before school started, and the school was left scrambling (I believe) to find another teacher.

Anyway I hope that was why they chose this teacher. She has no Waldorf experience besides the two weeks of training they could squeeze in before school started, and has no classroom experience either! She was a substitute teacher in the public schools before landing this job.

From what I can see, she loves her job. I can't imagine a more fun environment to teach, but perhaps I'm biased.

However, I've had several negative experiences with her already. I don't know if it is merely because she's new to teaching and isn't yet comfortable with dealing with parents, but so far her "method" is to ignore me and hope I go away, from what I can tell.

Frankly, I'm just about there. My son can be difficult to deal with. He's active, smart, and confident (a lethal combination), which means he's paying attention when you think he's not, bored and distracting anyone around him when he's not engaged, and answering all the questions whether you want him to or not. Basically a lot of work. Knowing this, I've tried to be as involved as possible in order to make her job as easy as possible.

However, if she's not interested, I'm sure I can find other things to do. I'm just concerned that her methods, if not what he needs, could alienate him from the learning process I've tried so hard to teach him to enjoy.

All that said, whatever he thinks of her (and I don't really know) is not affecting his learning. He loves his school, and LOVES main lesson. This is where they get the bulk of their academic training. This large chunk of the morning is when they cover math, science, writing, learning the alphabet, and whatever else they are supposed to learn in first grade. However, they learn all this through storytelling and drawing, and so every lesson is weaved into a tale that the kids then illustrate and copy into their lesson books, which are the Waldorf equivalent of textbooks all through the grades.

Last year, I would ask him at the dinner table to tell me the story he'd heard that day. In kindergarten, the teachers tell the same story every day for two weeks. By the third telling he was so bored with it, I couldn't get him to even tell me what the story was called. I stopped trying to get him to tell me the story once I saw how much it bothered him.

This year the story is shorter, and a new one is told each day. I've gotten out of the habit of asking him at the dinner table, but last night he volunteered the information. He told us he's learning 12 stories about 12 knights that are on a quest to find the perfect number, and that although he didn't have time to tell me ALL the stories, he'd be happy to tell me two per night until I'd heard all twelve. I have to say, that makes me super happy!

The Flu...

Yesterday I was sick with the flu. It hit like a tornado. Crashed in, hit hard, and wiped me out, all within 24 hours.

Wednesday I had a bit of a sore throat and a runny nose. Nothing drastic. Wednesday evening I went to bed early with chills, layering on the blankets and trying to get warm. Yesterday morning I woke up barely able to get out of bed. My body ached all over. It felt like I'd gotten into the losing end of a fight and had been kicked a thousand times all over.

I called all the parents and told them I was closing for the day. I try not to do this often, as it is such a huge inconvenience for them. But I couldn't help it.

My son gets out of school early on Thursdays, so I asked my carpool buddy if she would do the pickup for me. He got home soon after 1:00 and immediately came up to see how I was doing. He asked me if he could make me some soup, so I said yes. He learned how to open a can of soup and work the microwave after the last time I was sick and he tried very hard to figure out the microwave. After that, he made it a point to know how to use that, and the can opener.

He asked me if I wanted anything on the side. I told him I'd like toast.

He came back in a few minutes later with the bowl of soup. "Wow. I forgot to cook it!" were his first words, so he went back downstairs to nuke it. He came back to say "27 seconds". That's how long he'd cooked it. Oh well, it's the thought that counts. I choked down the lukewarm canned soup happily. What a sweet boy. He came back with the toast. The toaster oven was apparently set on broil, because only the top had been toasted. The underside was still cold! He said the bottom one (heating coil) was broken.

So then he asked if there was anything else he could do. I asked him to start a bath for me, and put in some herbal salts I have for clearing the sinuses. He did that, then disappeared again. When the bath was full, I got in, and he came back with two bowls of fruit salad (his specialty). I asked him if he'd made himself the sandwich he had wanted, and he said no. He said he had been too busy cooking for me! What a guy.

Today I'm much better. Open for business again. And so proud of my sweet boy!

I have a dream...

I am in the process of researching the next part of my master's thesis. This section is about the importance of play as an educational "curriculum" for early childhood education, and why it is important. I'm reading a lot of books. I haven't gotten yet to the point where I can start writing, which is causing a bit of panic (as it's due next Monday), but I am gaining some valuable lessons from the materials I've read so far.

Basically, I am trying to argue that children NEED uninhibited, unstructured play time, with the proper resources to develop their minds and bodies, in lieu of learning the alphabet and their numbers before the age of five. That the seemingly random play of childhood is working to grow the brain, build social skills, provide large and small motor activity to build strong bodies, and establish a means of working through the complexities of life in a non-threatening environment. Granted, play is important after five, but I'm arguing in favor of PLAYschools instead of PREschools.

Interestingly, the more I read, the more convinced I am that urban children, and my own in particular, are not getting what they need from their environment. Everything I have read tells me that my son doesn't have the necessary space, materials, and time to play like he should.

I went to visit a preschool in a nearby town, operated by a nationally renowned advocate of play, and almost wept at the possibilities and opportunities that most of the kids I know are missing out on. I wish I could provide this environment for even the kids in my care, but I am limited by space and carpet. I'm getting there, though. I'm adding things, little by little.

But not on the scale I'd love to see available to kids. Especially kids in these urban/suburban areas that don't get opportunity for uninhibited play. Either because they live on tiny lots, or because their "free" time is filled with structured activities they "need" to do, or because they aren't given the permission to get down and dirty, or any of the many reasons there are for busy parents, these kids are missing out.

I have a dream of offering something like this to kids in my neighborhood. Either on a small scale (a small preschool), or a large scale (full child care center), I want to give these kids an opportunity to play. One day, somehow, I'll make it happen. Hopefully before my son is too old to benefit from it.

Economic Woes...

Now that the news people seem to think the economy is bouncing back and on the upswing, it has finally hit my town.

My husband's company just started with the pay cuts and layoffs that have been in effect elsewhere for some time. Granted, we were lucky they didn't start sooner. They definitely should have, they haven't been doing their best business for a while. Now it's hitting home.

To top that off my business has been receding over the last six months. I had several clients lined up to begin in the summer. This would have completely filled all of my available space. In this economy that was a surprise all in itself.

But for one reason or another, none of these contracts were fulfilled. Unfortunately, this is a cyclical business, and these contracts didn't fall through until after the "cycle" of calls that were coming. That meant that not only did the spots not get filled, but I also lost the opportunity to fill them from any of the other calls I received.

I had to effectively lay off my part time helpers. I didn't have the income to pay their wages. But I still had my full-time assistant. I worried that if I cut her hours that she'd be forced to find another job, and then she wouldn't be available when I need her. I had enough income to support her and me. I cut out every other expense to make this work.

Then I pissed off a client. A full time client, no less. This client had been with me for over a year, and this surprised me. It was over something relatively small, and usually these kinds of personality issues show up early.

Regardless, now I'm really feeling the pinch. I need to cut the hours of my full-timer, which leads to a dilemma of still needing her when I need to pick up after school kids, but not needing her in the morning. Her prospects of finding a morning-only job are limited.

I hear what everyone is saying about the improving economy, but I'm not seeing it. I guess we dodged the bad-economy bullet longer than most and are feeling the effects now.

I had an interesting thought the other day. We've been in this economic slump for basically a decade. We've had small ups and downs, but we really haven't experienced job security or opportunity for a while. I wonder what that means for our future.

Blogging...

I have a list of blogs that I love to read. They are what got me thinking about starting one for myself in the first place. I was constantly feeling the need to RESPOND to what I had read, and though I did leave several comments, I felt like I could use a longer medium to voice my opinions. And boy, do I have lots of opinions!

I have a list of blogs that I've bookmarked that are business related. The things I'm interested in include finances, real estate, entrepreneurs, politics, out-of-the-box pastors, cooking, and freelance writing. That's not too much, is it?

Then I have a list of frugal shopping blogs. These are written by people consumed with saving more than a few dollars on their grocery bill, and/or know how to turn a frugal shopping trip into an even more frugal dinner for four. They keep track of every coupon, match them up with great sale prices at various stores, and tell their readers where to go to find the best deals on specific items. Cool.

And finally, I have my "personal interest" blogs. These are friends who also blog, and a great way to get a peek into their lives, especially those that live far away or I don't see often.

However, I haven't been reading much lately. Well, I haven't been reading the blogs that I bookmark. When I get a few minutes, I try to catch up on one friend at a time. Reading back to where I left off. But that's about it. I haven't read a frugal blog in months, and have let my own coupon shopping fall behind. I haven't read any of that other long list of blogs in much, much longer.

I read one this morning, though. Something about Gen-Y being the new wave of everything. One of the blogs I read is a collection of bloggers, open only to the twenty-somethings who have something to say about their career. It amuses me that at least half of the blogs published at this site include the term "Gen-Y". If they are Gen-Y, what am I? Gen-X? Gen-W? Was there a W? What were the Baby Boomers? Gen-P? And now they have a new term -- Millennials. Maybe they feared running out of alphabet, since they started with X!

Who thinks up these things? And why the overwhelming need to label absolutely everything?

It's especially amusing because I read such a broad spectrum of topics. Labels exist in every one. You should see the religious ones! They have "movements" now which are just as amusing. It takes some serious work to keep up with what each label refers to. Being so long away from THAT culture, I felt completely at a loss when I started reading. Now I just laugh.

Ha! I CAN still write! I just haven't been keeping up with the reason I had to write in the first place. I've had nothing to laugh at since I've been consumed with the Education of Young Children! That's my thesis. Maybe when it's done, I'll let you have a look!

Jamaica

My husband and I got to go on vacation in September. We were away for a week in Jamaica. My sister and mother-in-law took turns with my son, which was an amazing gift, so we could enjoy a much-needed break away from work.

There's no way to adequately describe Jamaica. It is an awkward blend of poverty and wealth. All of the coastline is populated by large resorts, while on the other side of the highway that circles the island are the homes and shacks of the people that live there.

The highway is a new addition. We were there three years ago, and it was under construction. Much of the ride from the airport to the resort where we stayed was dirt road, and I remember everyone driving like maniacs. With the highway complete, it is more heavily patrolled, with established speed limits, so the ride to and from the airport was boring compared to last time!

Both times we have stayed at the Couples Sans Souci resort near Ocho Rios. There is no way to describe the tranquility and ambiance of this place. The ocean is warm and beautiful, and that strange green/blue color that is so foreign to those of us on the west coast. The people of Jamaica are so incredibly friendly and relaxed! Even the employees are not rushed to do their jobs, and work seems to be enjoyable.

I was sitting on the balcony of our room one morning watching the setting up of the lawn area for the gala that was planned that evening. I watched as the workmen brought in the structures that would cover the buffet tables, piece by piece. They'd bring in a pole, and hang out and chat with their friends, then bring in another pole. It literally took them all day to set up the area. They started before 7 am, for the dinner slated to begin at 7 pm. As I was watching, I thought that if their bosses saw them goofing off like that, they would be in so much trouble. But then, minutes after thinking that, there boss joined them on the lawn, chatting and laughing with them just as they had been doing without him!

And then it struck me... These people are not easy-going for the sake of the guests. This is how they are all the time! It is the culture of the country. And then I was envious! I tried to imagine what it would be like to live your life in slow motion, which is what it looked like to someone from California! Every job they did appeared enjoyable to them because they enjoyed themselves while doing it.

I thought about the cook at the beach grill that sang non-stop while preparing the food. Even when his co-worker laughed at him because I was staring so blatantly, he was unconcerned. He smiled at me and kept right on belting out every song on the stereo. It was so refreshing to see!

We chose to return to Sans Souci because of this atmosphere, although I don't think I recognized it the first time. It is so easy to relax in an environment where even the employees are relaxed! The whole purpose of this place is to relax in the sun without a care, and that is evident all day, every day. They have activities that you can sign up for, but there's no hurry, and no pressure.

We ended up spending the whole week at the pool. No activities, no clocks, no schedule. The only thing we needed to worry about was making it to dinner at our reservation time. We sunned, drank, socialized, and ate. That was vacation.

Too bad the effects don't seem to linger long enough!

Long time...

I think it's time to write. I've missed writing. Have you missed me?

I've been thinking about why I haven't been blogging. I've concluded that I'm an addictive personality. I get into something and focus on it with all of my attention for however long it takes for me to feel like I've used it up, gotten as much as I can, learned all there is to learn.

I know I was excited about the blog when I began. I had a lot to say. I felt a release as I let go of the words. It relaxed and excited me at the same time. It relieved my stress.

But as the words dwindled, it felt forced. My writing wasn't as good as it should have been. It felt forced. Then I felt like it was just another something I had to do. So I stopped. Of all the things on my plate, this seemed the easiest to let go.

And then the absence itself was a deterrent. It felt like admitting the lapse to come back again. The longer between posts, the more embarrassing it was to start.

But I've realized that I need this. My stress level is way up and it's affecting my business. This is my outlet for all the things that bug me. I need to write in order not to let it eat me up.

But I don't always have something to say. Sometimes I go weeks without a coherent thought in my head. That's just how it goes. I'll write when I need to, not when I don't.

Thanks for listening.

Political Reform

I know that political reform has been bandied about for a very long time. I also know the impossibility of true reform in politics. However, I'm sick of the political system as it stands right now.

How do average citizens like me change the monstrous and well-funded scam that our government has become? The thing that pisses me off is that the scam is funded by us, without our consent. If we have to finance the large, cumbersome, ineffective "management" system we call government, we should have a right to change it. I mean, in a corporation you may work for terrible management, but generally they are paying you to be there, not the other way around.

I can't believe there are enough people happy with the way things are to not have an effective move to change it.

I would expect my "representatives" to be intelligent, clear and concise, law-abiding, and at least somewhat interested in representing the people that elected them. Is it too much to ask that they not LIE to us? That they not be criminals, and are subject to the same laws that we are? That they hold the best interest of their country or state above their own self-interest?

How did we, as citizens, let it get this bad? How is it that those of us who do put the effort in to ask questions of our "representatives" have been satisfied with vague form letter responses that blow us off?

What I want is to be able to have a choice on who I elect to office. We need more than two worthless people to choose from. We have more than two parties in this country, there are usually more than two people on the ballot for any office, but the monopoly of the two large parties have left these options largely anonymous. Not only that, the "committees" choosing the two worthless people are not looking for someone who can benefit the country, but rather will further the committee's power.

At this point, I'd be happy if no one in office agreed with my point of view, if they could only formulate a clear, concise sentence that expressed their own views. Instead, in the interest of pleasing everyone and keeping their jobs, we get vague double-speak that says nothing.

So what can we do about it? How do average citizens who work, have families, and spend their extra time doing the things we enjoy, start a movement that is large enough, and effective enough to make a change?

Any large-scale change that has happened in this country has required a charismatic leader that spent all of his or her time out speaking to people. They effectively spent their lives to effect change, and even though some didn't see the change in their lifetimes, they were successful.

We now have the benefit of the internet. We have television. We can reach a lot of people with little expense. But people have been expressing discontent online for a while, and it has not galvanized people into doing anything effective. What more can be done? In the words of Lee Iacocca: Where have all the leaders gone?

Friends

Over the last few years I have acquired several really good friends. I don't know how this happened, as I've never been able to make and keep many friends. My oldest friend has been my friend for 17 years now, and that alone boggles my mind. Granted, the first 7 of those years we were a couple, but still. That counts. She's still my friend, and that amazes me.

But recently I realized that I now have several friends that I consider to be close friends. Some have been, or are, clients, and for that I am very grateful. To create a lasting friendship out of a business relationship has been very rewarding. Others are from my bible-study group, and the nature of the group has turned an unlikely group of women into an incredibly tight and trusting group of friends.

Facebook has introduced me to several new friends. Some new, and some renewing of old friendships. These have been exciting and heartwarming.

That doesn't include the friendships I've made in past jobs. These are fewer, but no less important.

I've always been good at casual flirtation, but have never really mastered the art of deep, close friendships. However, recently I received a surprising call late one night to come help a friend who was distraught. I immediately got up and went to her. I ended up staying the night, and coming home in the morning, since it was a work day. Driving home I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that she'd called ME!

That thought got me thinking about all of the really good friends I have. I am truly blessed. I feel slightly guilty because I don't spend as much time as I would like with any of them, and inevitably I've fallen out of contact with some. As I scramble to keep in touch, my focus changes from one to another. I don't know how to hold everyone in my thoughts at the same time.

Making and keeping friends was a lesson I missed when I was young and moving around all of the time. We never stayed anywhere long enough to make it worth the effort. This new discovery strikes me with awe and wonder and I am truly grateful. Friendships truly add the color to a black and white life.

Depressed...

I've been in a slump lately. I've always struggled with cyclical depression, and I guess its my time. I've been blah. I don't have the luxury of staying in bed all day, but I do the next best thing. I'm doing only as much as I need to do to get by. Nothing more, nothing less. Everything is just a few days behind schedule, a little sloppier than it should be.

Hence the lack of posts. For the last couple of months I haven't had it in me to write unless I absolutely feel compelled to. Even then, I've let half of those slip away.

I've been down the anti-depressant route. I've tried a few, settling on the one with the least side affects. I took that for a little over a year before letting it go. It didn't have bad side affects, but it didn't seem to be making much of a difference either. I don't think anyone really noticed when I stopped taking them, so I guess they weren't as effective as they should have been.

I don't know why I get into these slumps. I keep telling myself I don't have time for them. I have so much on my plate, and adding more every day. I work with kids, and they are the ones that lose when I don't feel like doing all the fun stuff that makes the day interesting for them.

I really don't know how to combat this. I feel like I'm watching myself being glum and sour, and telling myself to snap out of it, but without the desire to really do anything more. I feel like I'm letting my life slip through my fingers in large chunks. What a waste.

Disneyland

I just came back from a long weekend at Disneyland. I went with my son, and his girlfriend and her mom. My son's birthday was last Monday, and his girlfriends was this last Sunday, so it was kind of a combined birthday trip for both of them.

It's about an 8 hour drive south from my home, and I have a friend who lets me crash at her house in Modesto, which cuts about 1.5 hours off of the drive on the way down. I have to say, even 6 hours in a car is a long drive. And my son talks non-stop. And his girlfriend appreciates peace and quiet... So you get an idea of how the drive went! At one point, she started meditating in the car, and stayed like that for at least an hour!

It was supposed to be a "surprise" for the kids, but after 5 hours heading south, they pretty much guessed where we were going. It was still fun. They were still thrilled to be in Disneyland!

It was a fun-filled, sleep-deprived weekend! We crammed so much into the hours we had. It was a typical Disneyland weekend, but with the added benefit of sharing it with two girls that LOVED every moment. I have to say that it was fun to watch them having a good time. Especially the mom, who was so over the top excited!

And one little girl got the added bonus of being in Disneyland on her birthday! She was treated like a princess all day! Granted, the day only lasted until 4pm when we had to pile back into the car and drive 8 hours to get home in time to show up for work Monday morning! But still. I've never been in Disneyland on my birthday!

What a great weekend!

Living Life...

It always amuses me when I hear someone blaming their childhood for how their life turned out. Life is a choice. You can choose to live or you can choose to just exist.

I get that you may have had the cards stacked against you. Your parents may have been losers, or you may not have had parents at all. You may have been surrounded all your life with people who were just existing, and you may think that's all that's possible for you. That's your choice. You can't blame your parents for that.

Living is hard. No one ever said it was easy. Some people just don't have the knack, if you know what I mean. They are the ones that see the glass half empty, that think everyone's out to get them, that the government owes them something. You can't help those people. They are so far removed from living they don't know that what they are doing isn't it.

Then there are those lucky ones that just get it, and don't even have to try. They are the ones that go through life exuberant, loving every moment, and taking advantage of every opportunity with abandon. They just know they are alive, and you can't help but watch them move through it with stark adoration, or you just want to shoot them for making it look so easy.

And then there's the rest of us. We know the choice exists, but it's a choice we have to make every day. In the middle of washing dishes, mowing the lawn, cleaning out the garage, we have to consciously stop whining and thank our lucky stars that we have dishes, a lawn, a garage. No, thanking isn't the right word. We ENJOY the fact that we have those things.

But more importantly, when an opportunity shows up that we actually recognize, in the moment, as an opportunity, we're the ones that have to consider the wisdom of pursuing it. Instead of jumping in with both feet as would the natural-born livers, we weigh the odds, discuss the pros and cons, and tentatively stick our toe in. About half of the time, we manage to step through that proverbial window in time. For the most part though, the window gets slammed shut with our toe still in it.

That's the rest of us. Cautiously living. Squinting into the sunlight.

Birthday Massage

Friday, June 26th, was my birthday.

One of the incredibly nice things my husband got me for my birthday was a massage with a friend who has been doing our massages for many years. Although we both had used her services regularly in the past, I haven't gotten a massage in quite a while.

It was the best massage I've ever gotten. I don't know what has changed in the intervening years, but this massage actually felt relaxing and nice, as opposed to the torture device it had been in the past. As I was groggily laying on the table, I was thinking about how good it felt, and how relaxed and quiet I was. That got me thinking about previous massages. Like I said, my masseuse is a friend of many years, and I haven't seen her in quite a long time. We should have had so much to catch up on. I should have been talking non-stop!

I thought about massages in the past where the 60 minutes seemed to fly by because we got started on an animated discussion that wasn't nearly complete by the time the massage was over. I considered the quiet and reflective place I must be in to not have anything to say, so I told her how good this massage was feeling.

She laughed. Apparently, she was contemplating the same thing as I was, but along slightly different lines! She was thinking about how still I was being and commented on the difference. When I said "animated discussion" I truly meant animated! She laughed about how she didn't have to chase my limbs around the table because I would pop up suddenly to say this or that, or fling my arms around to punctuate a point.

I couldn't help but laugh. These are the details of life that one so easily forgets! Having her remind me made me realize just how impossible it had been to get a relaxing massage when I never quieted down enough to enjoy it. I've come a long way, baby!

Computer Issues...

My computer has been in the shop for a week. I can't begin to tell you how painful that was! It felt like I was missing a limb and feeling phantom pains. I kept wandering around feeling like I was forgetting to do something. So strange.

The worst part about the whole thing was that I intentionally scheduled the service during the time I was going to be on vacation for a long weekend. My husband and I went to Calistoga for a short vacation last weekend. We left first thing Saturday morning, and returned late Tuesday evening. I took my computer in to the Apple store Friday morning, knowing I would be leaving it, anticipating that four days would be plenty of time for them to do whatever it is they needed to do.

Friday without the computer was weird, but as I was out running errands all morning, it was only weird once I got home. I thought about this blog, and the people I chat with daily, and remembered that I had forgotten to let anyone know I was going to be incognito for a while. Oops.

Saturday was great. We drove to Calistoga, which is approximately a two hour drive, checked into the room at the bed & breakfast, and commenced with our plan of relaxing by the pool for four days. I pulled out the first of the five books I had brought to read and set out to soak up the sun.

By Sunday I was definitely feeling an itch in an unknown location. There was nothing I NEEDED to see online, but I was definitely feeling distanced. I borrowed my husband's laptop, which he had faithfully brought with him on vacation, and quickly checked Facebook. It didn't appear that I was missing too terribly much, so I logged off and went back to sunning. Later in the day I snuck back in to write a little piece in my personal journal that I will publish here later.

Monday was distracting. We had met two very nice couples who were also staying there for the pleasure of laying by the pool, and we had great conversations. I had finished two and a half books and had actually been loaned one by one of our new friends. My tan was progressing nicely, and the weather was divine. The pool felt great, just the right temperature to cool off from the blistering sun, but not warm enough to stay in for long. This was bliss, but I was restless. Shouldn't I be doing something? I mean, it's Monday. There should be work. It's month-end, that always means paperwork.

Whatever. I let it go. I was on vacation. I thought about a friend I recently reconnected with on Facebook that commented that I was cool, except that I spent too much time on the computer. (I may be paraphrasing there.) I went back to reading and sunning.

Tuesday was our last day. We had planned to check out after breakfast but then hang out by the pool until early afternoon. The owners of this B&B are really relaxed, and have no problem with the guests staying as long as they want to the day of checkout as long as they can clean the room for the next guests. I ask them when we need to be out of the room, and they told me they didn't have anyone coming into that room until the following day, so we had all day. It's easy to keep coming back here.

By Tuesday I'd definitely gotten enough sun. My skin was pink and tender, and I had progressed to being under the umbrella with sunscreen. I had finished four of the five books I'd brought, as well as the one borrowed. I started the final book, and it wasn't nearly as interesting as the previous ones. I've begun to think about all the things I need to have completed by the end of the week, since Tuesday was the last day of June.

I finally gave up trying to read and went inside to start packing. We had planned to leave by 3pm to get home in time to pick up our son and give the grandparents a break. However, just about then my husband got hit with a stomach bug and spent the next few hours within feet of the toilet. At this point I was beginning to think we might have to stay another night and leave early the next morning, but after a few hours he felt like he could make it home. We only had to stop a couple of times for bathroom breaks on the way, but luckily we missed most of the rush hour traffic.

Wednesday was a light work day and I had time and opportunity to pick up my computer. I called the Apple store as soon as they opened, but when they checked the status, it wasn't done. They had received the necessary parts, and hoped to have it completed by the end of the day, but they would definitely call me. At that point I started panicking. It was the first of the month. I had a short window of time to get month-end paperwork submitted, time cards turned into the accountant, and the calendar of invoices prepared for clients that pay at the beginning of the month. I decided that if I pick it up after work, I would still have lots of time in the evening to get all of that done. I spent the day updating all of the children's files. This is all manual work that I've been putting off for a year because I have always had the computer as a distraction. I got through all of the completely handwritten paperwork that is required by the state.

I called again at the end of the day. It still wasn't done. Maybe Thursday. Ugh!

Thursday I HAVE to have it back. It's the second day of the month, and everything was due by the third. However, I also had a full house and couldn't leave. I called the Apple store when they opened, and sure enough, it was done and ready to be picked up. Go figure. I asked my husband to pick it up at lunch, but then he wouldn't get home until 6pm.

When he handed it over that evening, I was like an alcoholic getting a long, sweet taste after a drought. I'm a junkie.

I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to be back online! I'm terribly sorry you have to be a part of my problem, but I have to admit to missing you terribly. Even when I'm not writing I read your blogs, I check your status, I feel connected. What did we ever do before the internet?!?

My husband thinks I'm attractive...

I don't think I said that quite right.

My husband thinks I'm totally hot and sexy. I know that sounds... well, I'm not sure how it sounds. But I thought it was worth writing about.

We've been married for almost 10 years. And I'm enough older than he is, that it matters. Not a few months, or even a few years. Thankfully, not a decade, but still. Enough that it matters. And age matters more to women than men anyway.

For a man, getting older means being wiser, more experienced, distinguished. In a culture that surrounds women with the idea that the most important thing is how we look, and more specifically, that we always look young, age tends to be hard. Women spend a lot of time and money on appearance. Even for those, like me, that don't get sucked into all of that, I still think about it. I still put a little effort into putting on make-up once in a while, dressing well once in a while, trying to stay thin.

But even still, I can't think of a better compliment to a woman than to be considered incredibly hot by the same person for 10 years or more. It's easy to be attractive to strangers. I clean up pretty well, I can turn on the charm, I can flirt with the best of them. But to be continually attractive to the guy that sees me first thing in the morning, when I'm being bitchy, when I haven't showered in days, when I'm sitting on the toilet... that's incredible.

I'm incredibly lucky. And sexy. ;-)

Memorial Day Weekend

Over the Memorial Day weekend I went to Phoenix. I took an extra day off of work so I could be there four days with the intent of doing a "Clean House" intervention for a friend. I had stayed one night at her house in April when I flew down to repossess my nephew's car. I told her then I would be coming back to help her. Her house was a disaster.

I need to give a little background on this friend. I met her in the mid 90's (I'm not exactly sure what year) when she was hired into the company I worked for. We worked closely for at least a year before I got another job and moved on. She moved to Phoenix soon after to accept a job offer there. We would take turns visiting back and forth between Phoenix and here in the years since then.

She is the type of person that would give you the shirt off of her back if you had a need and she had nothing else. It is her nature to help anyone who needs help, even if it means she goes without. This tendency has hurt her more often than not, as she attracts the kind of people that will take advantage of her, and leave nothing in return.

This was my opportunity to do something for her. I arrived on a late Friday flight, and she picked me up from the airport. She had waited to eat until I arrived, in case I hadn't eaten, even though it was already 9pm, so we stopped to eat before going to her house. When we finally got to her house, we started a load of laundry.

This is why she needed the intervention: half of her formal living room was heaped with dirty laundry, the other half was heaped with Christmas stuff. She didn't use her formal living room, as her home has a family room, and therefore there was basically just a pathway from the garage door through the room. The rest of her house looked very similar.

She gave me her bedroom to stay in, while she slept on the couch during my stay. There was no space in her room for me to set my suitcase down on the floor, so first thing (6 am) Saturday morning I started on that room. I woke her at 8 am to start cleaning out her shoes. She had well over a hundred, and many I knew she couldn't be still wearing, as she buys the same shoe in every color they release. There were plenty that were various shades of the same color.

I woke her adult son who is living with her at 9 am to start on the garage. I had decided to install shelving in her garage to house all of the Christmas stuff, but when I arrived I noticed a row of boxes along that wall stacked half-way to the ceiling. I tasked him to go through those and determine what was in them. Amazingly he found a 386 cpu tower that was almost waist tall, and the matching monitor, complete with the five separate inputs for RGB (and I'm not sure what the other 2 are). Along with that dinosaur were boxes and boxes of miscellaneous paper (mail, photos, cards, tax documents, notes, receipts, etc.).

By the end of the first day, we had purchased shelving to hang on the garage walls which her son installed, done approximately 12 loads of laundry, gotten her bedroom completely cleaned out and the spare bedroom half done, purchased shoe racks for her closet, put everything that was still in her closet in a goodwill bag, since she obviously wasn't wearing it or it wouldn't be clean!

On the second day we had purchased 4 bookshelves, 4 cd towers, and a ton of bins to store all the many things that were piled on the floor everywhere. She had more than enough books in the house to fill two of the bookshelves, and then boxes of books in the garage.

By the third day, we had made a large enough dent in the laundry to be able to sort the remainder into loads, the Christmas stuff was fully contained (gathered from every conceivable hiding place all over the house) and stored on the garage shelving, her hobbies and unfinished projects had been sorted into bins and put into appropriate spaces, and the 2-car garage was full of either recyclable trash or garage sale items. We had made a sizable dent, but I was beginning to worry that we wouldn't finish by the end of the fourth day. We still had all of her beadwork (she designs jewelry), and her office to get to.

On my final day, I sorted through boxes of paper, cleaned out closets, finished the miscellaneous unfinished projects, and did laundry. I never did get to the office or the beads, but I did set her up with instructions on how to continue! We didn't make it to goodwill, but she promised to take everything once she'd held her garage sale.

All in all, it was a very productive weekend. The best thing about the weekend is that I came home with a renewed desire to clear my own space of clutter. It is going much more slowly, but I'm doing it. Just cleaning off the bar in the kitchen has given me a tremendous sense of peace! I'm determined to have a space for everything or it is going out. In July I'll have my own garage sale and goodwill run!

All throughout the weekend, all I could think about was Peter Walsh. If you don't know who he is, he does this kind of thing for a living. Going into disastrously cluttered homes and throwing out, selling, sorting, and organizing everything into usable living space. After four straight days, all I could think was HOW DOES HE DO IT?? You have to have a real love of organizing, I think, to do this every day, for people who want to have a clean space but are unwilling to part with anything! I have to hand it to him!

Workout Update

This is one of the updates that I promised in my recent post. Primarily because my trainer read the initial post, and took issue with the negative tone! Every time he comes he reminds me that I need to update everyone and be more positive!

So, I am still working out. I am definitely not working out as much as he would like, as I am supposed to be exercising between visits, independent of his supervision. However, I know I am not good at that. I promised my son that I would do some serious bike riding with him this summer, and I will keep my word. I have been waiting for him to get big enough and confident enough on his bicycle that we could ride a good distance. Now, however, he is way beyond me in ability! At 6, he's riding 10 miles each way to and from school a couple times a week. I doubt that I could do that distance in my current sorry state!!

I will be picking that up again, however. That is something I truly enjoyed doing, and something I miss. I loved riding my bike around town on the weekends. I look forward to being able to do that again with him. It will require me to scale back on weekend planning, which will also be good for me. There are plenty of things I want to do with him that will require planning, and time.

That said, I am currently working out with my trainer about 2 times per week for an hour. We have been doing that since the beginning of March, and I do notice a difference. I have not lost the belly pouch that was my goal from the beginning, but I am stronger, and feel better, than I have in quite a long time. I can see the improvement in just how much and how long I can do the tasks he gives me to do. Even though he works me until I feel like I'm going to drop, and can't lift an arm or leg a single more time, I know I lifted/pushed/worked many more reps with much more weight than would ever have been possible when I started.

I'm still slightly sore after every work out, which is something I take to be a good sign. It feels like I'm working hard if I'm sore. It feels like I'm pushing myself. I think that's good. I like pushing myself. I've gotten complacent in the past few years, and pushing is good. In whatever form it comes.

Ultimately, I've improved. My trainer swears he can tell a difference in the shape of my arms and legs. I can't say that I agree, because the only area that I've ever given any attention to is my belly, and that isn't changing much. However, I choose to believe him because I feel strong. That has to come from somewhere, right?

Disorganization...

I admit that I am not the most organized person I know. I try, and my failings frustrate me severely, but I wing it as often as not. I especially hate it when I am not well enough organized in my business to know exactly where I stand at all times. Friday, I beat myself up for 3 hours because I missed an opportunity to make money and help out a mother in need of a day off, simply because I had not written down in the RIGHT place that one of my kids was out on vacation. Grrrr....

Last night I went with a friend to the grand opening of a local bar/lounge. Apparently, they were holding a karaoke contest yesterday evening, and she wanted to sing. It was a good idea, as she won first place!

However, the disorganization of the staff was driving me crazy. The owner apparently had not planned for much of a crowd because he had only 2 servers working and 3 bartenders. The two servers were serving well over 100 people all night, while the owner looked on doing nothing. I could see that no one at the tables were getting any kind of service, and many ended up going to the bar themselves to get their own drinks because the service was useless.

As I watched, I was getting more and more frustrated. Not because I was waiting, because I wasn't actually ordering anything, so it didn't affect me directly, but because it was OPENING NIGHT! How do you expect to keep your business going in a tough economy if you can't make a good impression on your first day!! I'd be amazed if even a fraction of the customers that were there last night go back for another try. It is likely that most of those would tell their friends and family about the experience and influence that many more people NOT to try it.

Yet the owner seemed largely unconcerned about the chaos that was occurring. At one point I approached him and suggested that he needed more servers. Had I been a little braver, I would have told him to give me a shirt, and I would help! His response was lost in the noise of the band and an accent I couldn't understand. However, what I could catch of his answer was pretty close to a shrug-off.

I am always interested in the rise and fall of businesses. What makes one work when another very similar venture fails miserably? How do some restaurants and bars hang on for decades when they seem to have only a slight stream of customers, where others that seem so popular and packed on the weekends, crash and burn in a short period of time?

This bar is this man's second attempt at this same location. It is interesting that he didn't learn anything from his previous experience here. I guess time will tell.

Blogging...

I apparently needed a break. For the last month or so I have done absolutely nothing. I have been holding still for a while. Well, that's not entirely true. I have been doing nothing productive.

I haven't written here in quite a while, and then only sporadically. I find that I miss it a lot. I can see a difference in my behavior when I write here consistently. It's as if by writing out even the most mundane things I am thinking about, I am freed from stewing on them, and can be a little more lighthearted. Writing about the something that really bothers me allows me to let it go and move on.

I love that you read and respond to my rambling. I apologize for the sometimes worthless subject material!

All in all, I am more relaxed and organized in my mind when I am consistent here. I find that intriguing and disturbing!

My moratorium has not been for lack of subject material. There have been plenty of times I've wanted to write. I want to write about my weekend in Phoenix. I want to update on previous posts (workout, raffle). I want to tell you about spending a day with my son at his school, and my monthly menu. (OK. I'm using you as a reminder. I admit it.)

Other things I've neglected include summer studying for my thesis project, reading the blogs I love to keep up with, my crazy grocery pricing study and budget, my finances! ugh, and my business paperwork.

Instead of all of those things that need to be done, I've been reading for no reason other than my personal pleasure. Granted, I have three books in process and none of them are particularly pleasurable, but still. I'm reading them just because. I have been playing mafia wars on facebook. Is that ever a mindless time suck! I almost hate to admit to it. But, every moment can't be productive, right? Right? Ok, don't answer that!

I have to admit that I need these little mind breaks. I think the end of the school semester triggered this one. The last couple weeks of school were spent in frantic writing to complete the semester's assignments, and the next couple of weeks have been a super long exhale!

Interestingly enough, I've been more present with my daycare kids of late, which is good for them, and good for me. I have spent some time since returning from Phoenix organizing and simplifying my house. I have quite a pile growing in my garage in preparation for a garage sale.

After three years of "wanting" I finally broke down and bought the closet organizer for the kid's nap room and got all of my business paperwork, supplies, spare kids clothing, blankets, sheets, packages of diapers and wipes neatly arranged in the closet instead of piled on the floor and desk! It's made an amazing difference.

I guess I haven't been completely still. But I will get back to this for a while! I miss you!

Words...

As I woke up this morning, in that space where my mind has kicked in and started churning the things that need doing today, but before my eyes can open, I was thinking about words. Well, I was thinking about the little girl's birthday party we're going to this morning and the fact that I always gift books. And somehow it jumped from that to adult illiteracy!

I was wondering what it would be like to live in a world excluded from words, and how that would affect every part of life. I'm sure illiteracy isn't as big of a problem in this country as it is in others (I'm speculating), but I know it still exists here, because I've seen commercials on the subject.

Think what that would be like! I couldn't write my thoughts to you, and you couldn't read them. I wouldn't be able to check out your doings in Facebook or blogs (oh my!). I couldn't read the newspaper, or read street signs while driving. I couldn't read nutrition labels, or warning labels, or instructions.

Imagine how that would put me at the mercy of those around me. Could I hold a job if I couldn't fill out an application or sign an employment contract? Not being able to read contracts, would I be scammed at every turn?

And how would I pay bills?

I'm sure there are so many other ways I would be affected that I can't even fathom. I know it would be possible to get through life without knowing how to read. It could even be possible to hide the fact that I couldn't. But what a lonely and isolated space to live!

My son is finally showing interest in learning to read. Last year's kindergarten experience probably set him back quite a bit in this area, and I've tried hard not to push him. He's almost seven. By the time I was his age I was firmly and completely lost in the world of words. He is surrounded by books in this house. I have bookshelves stuffed everywhere, and most of them are overflowing. And that doesn't even count the books I read and trade on paperbackswap, those books are kept in boxes.

He watches me chat with friends online. And he's especially interested when I'm chatting with his dad or grandma. He wants to type to them too, and I like watching him try to figure out how words should be spelled. I don't usually correct him because I don't want to color his experience with negativity, but it's interesting to me that he can read a word well, but turn around and write it completely different. It's interesting how those two things don't seem to connect in his brain.

I wonder what it would be like to not be given this opportunity to explore words. How do you get to adulthood without knowing how to read? Does it require ignoring everything in school, or is it from not attending school at all?

Words are such a consuming part of my life, I wonder what it would be like without them.

Being Female

Jeff McQ has again astonished me with his insight into this issue on his blog. After reading his post, I wanted to talk about my feelings on this point. Granted, I will say right now that this is from MY perspective, and may not be how you feel. But to be honest, this topic has shaped my life, and who I am, so I appreciate the opportunity to tell my story, and the people who are beginning to listen.

I recognized a difference in the treatment of men and women from an early age. I've never felt like I had the same opportunities that I would have had were I a man. I never once felt I could be "whatever I wanted to be." I grew up resenting my brothers for their blatant wasting of their advantage. I worked hard, studied hard, played by all the rules, just to be given the chance to prove myself competent.

I watched my mother accept her role as a servant to her husbands because she felt that that was her place. I listened to her teach that lesson to my older sister and I. I rebelled against this, determined not to subjugate myself to men. Having five brothers who did not carry the same responsibility or have the same expectations set for them, I felt the unfairness first hand. Why should I serve them, just because they were born with a penis?

As I've said before, much of this was cultural, and some was religious influence.

Early in my life I felt disdain for everything feminine. I viewed the female role as weak, and vowed to fight it everywhere I could. I decided young that I would never have children. Having children was a definite disadvantage. Having ultimate responsibility for a child automatically put the woman into a less respectable role. I sensed the feeling to be that a woman's place was in the home with the babies, and therefore she could not be trusted to be objective in other decisions.

This opinion was reinforced when I entered the workforce. Everyone talks about the inequality of pay. I believe we are making strides in that direction. However, the inequality goes much further than pay. It is much more insidious in the subtle exclusions, the slightly condescending tones, the delegation of tasks that the men consider unworthy. And all of this is reinforced when a working woman has children.

Of course women have the right to maternity leave to go have babies, but when I worked in the office, I could hear the contempt when men spoke of this "time off". I also watched the erosion of her position while she was out. And if she chose to extend her time at home with her baby, the feeling of "taking time off" was only amplified. Never was it viewed as important that she spend what time she could with her newborn. It was always about the inconvenience of her time away and the fact that fathers did not get this time off. (Family leave for men is a relatively new idea, and I've been out of the workplace long enough that I cannot justly say how this has changed the atmosphere surrounding maternity leave.)

And this continues to be an issue when it is predominantly the mother who takes time off for sick children, or doctor's appointments, or school scheduling.

I know, I know. This isn't true for everyone. I also know that it is becoming much more in fashion to have involved fathers who take their turns with this. But I now watch kids for a living. I know who to be call when a child is sick. I see who is taking the time off to come pick that child up.

I can relate to Jeff's comments about being more masculine in the workplace. I tried very hard to do all the right things. Then, I left to have my own son. I knew the moment that I decided to get pregnant that I was making a mistake. Soon after returning from maternity leave I was laid off.

This was 2003. People were getting laid off all over. Finding work was not easy, and I tried branching into other fields. After a couple of poor employment choices I started my childcare.

It was humiliating for me to be pregnant. It was like I was admitting that everyone was right, and there is nothing else for women than this. Even though I know this isn't true, it feels like I must prove myself every day in a man's world.

I hope, for the sake of the next generation of girls, that it doesn't continue to be this way. Thank you Jeff, for letting me have my say. And oh! Happy Mother's Day.

Entitlement

I find that I'm getting quite exhausted with the sense of entitlement that seems to abound today. Maybe I see more of it because of the area in which I live, but I think I'm getting too old to be tolerant of it.

This rant got started on my way home from school last night. I'm a fast driver. I'm not the fastest on the road, but I know I drive faster than the speed limit. I get so frustrated with people driving in the fast lane, going five miles an hour over the speed limit, who think they should not move over for the line of traffic piling up behind them.

I used to think it was just their being rude. I could see them thinking, "I'm going over the speed limit. I SHOULD be in the fast lane." And they would be completely clueless, or just pissed off if I went around them on the right. (Yes, I know that's technically illegal.)

So I would think, "where did they learn to drive? Did they miss the lesson on slower traffic moving right?"

But tonight I came to the realization that it's more likely a sense of entitlement. I think people just don't care. They are driving. They feel entitled to drive wherever and however they want, regardless of how it might impact anyone around them.

And driving isn't the only thing. The entitlement reaches into every inch of people's lives. Kids think they are entitled to everything they see on tv, adults think they are entitled to everything their neighbors have, everyone thinks they are entitled to a retirement whether they plan for it or not.

I know those are general statements, and may not necessarily apply to YOU, but why do you think we (as a country) are busy bailing businesses out for failing, over-paying union workers, "stimulating" the economy with taxpayer money, giving mortgage "relief" to people who can't pay their mortgages so they can keep a home they can't afford, and on and on...

Does this bother anyone else?

I'm finally excited...

... about the possibilities in this master's program.

Let me back up. I don't know how much I've said about this program. It's a Master's in Education with an emphasis on Art in Education. Well, not being a teacher, nor having any interest in being a teacher, the education part of it was a dubious choice. But I am in childcare, and technically that is the educating of very young children, so although it's a stretch, it qualifies.

I do enjoy teaching/training, although not for school-aged kids. So, another justification for the program was the potential to use it to get into a corporate training position. I have worked in the software industry, and my first love, the reason for my undergraduate degree, was to implement and train corporations in the use of ERP software. I have done some of that in the past, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have a knack for getting into everyone's business, learning what they do, and applying it to the big picture of a company. An ERP system is a multi-module software for manufacturing firms that essentially centralize all the information from the various working departments of a company into a single database. The first time I went through an implementation it was amazingly fun to learn how to use every part of the software, apply that to what I knew of how every department worked, and then teach them how to best use the software to benefit the whole company.

So, I figured a master's in education would give me the necessary edge to get back into the corporate world after a 5-7 year hiatus in childcare.

The emphasis on art has been difficult. I am not an artist. I am not even a budding artist! I have no natural talent at any artistic thing. I have a logical, problem-solving mind that can be assigned a project and can try to figure out how to accomplish the solution. Which may (in the case of my quilting projects) be construed as artistic, but is actually mostly puzzle work and problem solving!

So when it came time to find a "pathway" for my thesis project, I was really scared. The options were: 1) myself as an artist developing/learning/journaling the acquisition of a new art form, 2) myself as an artist journaling/narrating how I apply this art in my classroom, 3) myself as a teacher developing a curriculum that incorporates art into the classroom, 4) myself as a teacher doing teacher research on how to collect and collate data to support curriculum change, or 5) advocacy.

We discussed these pathways on the first night of class. We discussed them again the first night of the second semester. We are now at the end of the second semester in a five semester program, and just now getting into what those pathways mean. I'm sure a large proportion of the class knew immediately what which pathway they were going to choose. After all, almost everyone in this cohort is a teacher, and at least twenty percent of those are art/music/drama/dance teachers.

Not being a teacher, nor an artist, I was very scared. Of the five pathways, all I could see as a possibility was advocacy. However, every time the discussion on pathways happened in class, the instructors would start with pathway one, work their way to five, then with all the interruptions and questions, by the time she'd get to five, it would be "advocacy is about trying to make a change in leadership or policy. There probably aren't many of you that would fall into this category." (So you see where their focus lies!)

So it's near the end of the semester (one week left!) and it's time to write the proposal for our thesis. The instructor has given me the go ahead on an idea to create a website, which I wrote according to her guidelines, but I have no idea what pathway it falls into. I'm assuming it's five, since none of the others apply to me.

Last night we presented our thesis proposals to a group of other students in our class. We separated by pathway, and there were surprisingly five other students taking pathway five. Two of the others are also creating websites. I am excited about this. After hearing their proposals, I am even more excited. They had some great ideas, and some of them are as far removed from "art in education" as mine! I think I finally found something to sink my teeth into.

I'm still not sure where the culmination of this degree will take me, but hopefully, with some of the ideas I heard last night, there might yet be a place for me with something I can be passionate about. There's hope.

Stomach Flu

It's Monday morning, and I finally feel better. Last week I had a nasty stomach flu sweeping through my house. Every one of my kids who were here last week from Tuesday to Friday has now had it. Thankfully, it is quick to hit, and quick to move on.

My assistant was in the second wave of victims. One night of profuse vomiting, and by the end of the following day, she felt fine. I, however, can't seem to vomit, so any kind of stomach bug just seems to linger on and on. Finally, after 3 days I seem to be feeling ok.

It has been a good time to be sick, however, since it's been raining for days. In May!! If I wanted rain in the summer I would live in Seattle! I know drought is bad, but still. Rain in May!

My thesis proposal is due this evening for peer review. I've been plugging away trying to write somewhat intelligently, but not really impressing myself. I guess I'll see how easily impressed my peers might be! I'm afraid my proposal is so far way under par for graduate level writing.

And now it's the beginning of the month, which means a ton of month-end paperwork to fill out. Ugh.

I didn't intend this blog to be an online journal, but rather a voicing of my opinion on various matters. However, since I haven't had an opinion, apparently, in quite a while, I figured I'd just fill you in on what's been going on with me!

The Carsino Show

Ok. I admit I've been avoiding this blog. It's not because I don't have anything to say, either. I've been a little overwhelmed lately, and instead of feeling the release of writing out my issues, I've turned it into one more thing I should be doing. So, I've been avoiding. Typical.

But last night my husband and I went to see a show. It was something I had to do for school. I only have three weeks of school left, and had to get one more theater viewing in before the end. So, considering that I've left it to the last minute, I looked through what was playing, and there wasn't much to choose from!

Interestingly, the tiny theater on Sutter Street in Folsom was featuring a Thursday night performance of The Carsino Show! Ok. I'd never heard of it, but it fit my timing perfectly. From the website it looked to be a two-man comedy show. I was a little off on THAT point.

The cast of 12 had a whole musical set up around the set of the Carsino Show. This was supposed to be the mafia's knockoff version of the Johnny Carson show. It was funny.... most of the time.

The funniest part was that we were the only audience. Granted, the theater is tiny. I think it seats 50. Tops.

But still, being the only audience is a lot of pressure! I mean, what if we didn't find their jokes funny?

The guy that played Carsino's sidekick was funny, though. I could tell he was somewhat ad-libbing in response to our reactions, and his timing and delivery were awesome. And you know me (or most of you do, anyway), I can be loud. And I laugh a lot. Loudly. Usually at the most inappropriate times.

Needless to say, I was an active audience member. And the show was funny. So it wasn't hard to laugh at all the right places. Plus, I got a little into being "cast" as the audience... My husband said I had a larger audience than they did!

At the end of the show, the cast all came down to talk to us, and every one of them commented on what a great audience I was. One guy even commented on how they could hear me backstage and were laughing at my laughing at even the smallest thing! Oh well. I told him I get that a lot!

It was fun and funny. I'm still chuckling about it! And the best thing of all... they invited us to come back to their other show for free! Woohoo! They said: "When you call, tell us you were the woman who laughed at the Carsino show and we'll comp your ticket!" Ha!

Women and Oppression...

There has been some online discussion recently about the oppression of women in the church. I wrote about my feelings on the subject in January. That post can be found here. I don't know what prompted that outburst, but it is something that rankles still. It is my opinion that much of the oppression of women in our culture originated with the early catholic church. And since the church shaped much of European tradition, it is only as we distance ourselves from christian culture that we move toward equality for women.

Again, this is my opinion. If you don't agree, that's fine too.

But interestingly, there have been a few posts recently about the same topic. The first was by Jeromy at A Mending Shift. He spoke eloquently here about a personal experience that spoke to a lot of people, judging by the comments left. It was a beautiful piece. Jeromy has a knack for truth-telling and story-telling that I enjoy.

Jonathan took up the challenge here.

Then Jeff, at Losing My Religion, spurred by Jeromy's post wrote about his own experience, and how it has affected him. This post hit closer to home with me, and I left a comment on his blog pointing him to the post I had written in January. That sparked an interest in discussion, and rather than leaving long comments back and forth, Jeff wrote a separate post in response.

I recommend reading the posts. But I say that from a position of bias.

I've been interested in this topic my whole life. Growing up, being a girl was shoved in my face at every turn. Having five brothers only made the delineation between what was "allowed" more obvious. Some of the limitations were cultural. Most were religious. When I went away to a strict boarding academy in high school, the lines were even more obvious.

Then, as I got older and got into the work force, I saw the difference in a different light. There were definite "girl" jobs and "boy" jobs. Again I chafed. I wasn't brave enough or lucky enough to choose my path while disregarding cultural norms, so I definitely wasn't one of the many laudable women who have trail-blazed new pathways through corporate america.

Many of the women mentioned in the various posts were specifically relating to being excluded from leadership in a church, but the feelings are the same.

I just want to say, I appreciate the topic being under discussion.

Cooking

I'm a Cancer. At least, according to the astrological calendar, I was born under the zodiac sign of Cancer. I have this little book that describes the characteristics of Cancers, and it seems to know quite a lot about me. I find it odd that all of the millions of people born in a month would somehow be similar enough to be described in such terms, but that's a different discussion for a different time.

According to the book, Cancers are caretakers. And for a Cancer, the best way to take care of, or show love to the ones we care for is to feed them.

I don't know about every other Cancer on the planet, but this is true about me. I do show love and appreciation by feeding people. It's an even greater act of love (in my opinion) because I really don't like to cook. What I enjoy is serving the people I love good food. The more complex the dish, or decadent the flavor, the better.

Because of this, and the fact that I did not marry a chef, I have worked steadily at becoming a better cook. I think I have reached a point where I can claim to be a pretty good cook. I'm not great, and could definitely benefit from formal training, but I do well enough.

However, I still do this as an act of love. It makes me happy to please people with a delicious and home cooked meal. I am disappointed when my offering is not as good as I think it could be.

Because this is how and why I cook, it follows that when I am unhappy I have no interest in cooking. I can see that in the way we eat out. When I am feeling good, we eat at home more often. When I am not, we eat out a lot more.

So I wonder, how does this work in your home? Is one person principally responsible for the cooking in your house, or is it a shared task? If so, how is this decided? How do you appreciate the person that keeps you fat and happy? Or is this considered a responsibility that is expected and thus taken for granted? What do you do for the person that feeds you every day?

Raffle Fundraiser

My son's school is holding a fundraiser, as does every school. As fundraisers go, though, I think this one is pretty cool.

The school is offering a raffle called "Home Free". First prize is house payments for a year (up to $25k), or $15,000 cash. Second prize is a $500 gift card for gas (or whatever), and the third prize is $250 Raley's gift card for groceries. The whatever means the gift card is a visa gift card, so theoretically you could use it for whatever you wanted.

The raffle tickets are selling for $100 each. You can check out the raffle here: http://www.goldenvalleycharterschool.com/homefree/index.html#

The downside to the raffle is that you have to print out the order form and mail it in. The upside is that they are only selling 1000 tickets, so we might have a better chance at winning, right? Well, better than the lottery, anyway.

It would be cool if someone I knew won!

Weight Loss, Exercise

I started working out a little while ago in an attempt to get that hard body I think might be hiding under my thick skin. I'm not fat, but I'm getting older, and my skin is starting to sag in places it really shouldn't.

There's also the fact that I've always had a problem with a muffin top, and it would be nice to see if I might ever achieve a flat belly. This might just be wishful thinking.

I have a friend who graciously agreed to "practice" on me while he works his way through his personal trainer certification process. Nothing beats a free personal trainer. Nothing. Really.

Plus, he likes me, so he's nice.

After experiencing soreness in muscles I didn't know existed, and some that I didn't think could ever BE sore, I can tell I'm getting stronger. My problem is that exercising makes me hungry. Actually, hungry is an understatement. I feel like I'm absolutely starving every minute of the day! And I've never been good at deny myself something I NEED, and I need to eat!

So, exercising tends to make me fat! What the heck? I tell people this, and they look at me like I'm smoking something. Really, I do gain weight. It's not hard to believe when I'm eating twice as much as I'm used to eating, and only burning off a quarter of what I'm packing away.

Knowing this, I've really tried to eat less this time around. I'm only partially succeeding. I am a little chunkier than when I started, but so far it isn't completely out of hand. In fact, I'm semi-successfully trying to eat less than I was before I started working out, so I might have a better chance at that hard body.

We'll see how it goes! I'll let you know in a couple of months if I'm achieving success, or if I've just given up completely on the exercise!

Moments

I heard a country song some time ago, performed by Emerson Drive, called Moments. The song talks about everyday people, at low points in their lives, who remembered moments in their lives when they were more than they thought they could ever be. Moments when they did heroic things, that may not have seemed heroic to anyone else, but for them, was something seemingly out of reach.

"Moments, days in the sun

Moments, when I was second to none

Moments, when I knew I did what I thought I couldn't do..."

I believe that everyone has had moments when they have accomplished something that would never have seemed possible. Or did something that, although may seem inconsequential to me, was monumental for you. Even when we seem quite ordinary, or we don't think our lives are interesting, each of us has done something in our lives that was memorable.

I stood up to my mother once. It took an amazing act of will to hold my ground, but I did it. It will forever be a moment I remember. It may well have been a pivotal moment in my life that shaped my future.

My aspiration was to be more than anyone thought was possible. I haven't accomplished any great thing, and for most people, I might not seem like much, but I have come a long way.

I graduated from college and am halfway through a master's degree. Many people have done this and more. But considering that I rarely attended the same school for longer than one school year at best, more often splitting a school year between two schools, and once even three, this is an accomplishment I think beats the odds. It took 11 years of perseverance to complete my bachelor's, working full time and going to school at night. Walking down the aisle, in a mass of caps and gowns, to receive my diploma was a moment to remember.

My wedding day was another. My new husband and I worked hard and sacrificed much to pay for this day on our own. Although we were on a budget, we had a gorgeous celebration. Everything was beautiful, and there was nothing money could buy that could have made it any better. Such a thing would not have seemed possible to me. But we did it.

I am proud of my son. Of course, this is a joint effort with my husband, but I am proud of the person my son is becoming. I never pictured my life with a child. Growing up in a hispanic culture, this was an unheard-of concept. Although he wasn't in my life plan, he is someone I am very proud of.

None of this may seem heroic to you. These may not even be goals toward which you strive. These are definitely not the culmination of what I hope to accomplish. But I've had my moments.