Great Day In the Morning!

I have been awake for hours now. Mom rang me up around 3:00 AM and our festivities began as we waited for the royal ceremony to begin. It seems like yesterday, I was sitting on the couch watching the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana. I hadn't begun my adult life. I was still in high school, waiting patiently (me), or impatiently (Mom) for my life to begin in earnest. I had no idea that I would marry, have children of my own, or live the extraordinary life I have been afforded. Mom and me sat and watched, remained awe stricken, giggling at times, having one of the many mother/daughter moments we would eventually have. Naive, hopeful and happy about what was to come for us both.
Dressed in pajamas and pearls, I sat huddled on the couch with my coffee, wrapped firmly in my favorite blanket as my mom told me of history she had learned about the royals. "Is she not wearing a hat?" we both whispered aghast at a potential faux pas. "Oh, how beautiful..." was our response to the wedding dress. My phone died and we broke momentarily for coffee and bathroom breaks. After a respite, we got back on the phone to finish watching a grand celebration of an old tradition made anew.
We spoke about watching William and Harry follow their mother's casket, not that long ago from the very church that held the wedding. I told how I never could have imagined watching my own children follow their father's casket a month later. My mom responded with a verbal hug, as she always does for me, "Oh, Kel..." I felt her deep inside my heart. That is the way of it with my mom and me. I feel her even when she remains so very far away. I may not have the good fortune to have her so close I can see her, but I always have her deep inside in my heart.
Mom is not as young as she was when we first watched royals say their vows, but for me she got up in the middle of the night to watch with me, just so we could have one more memory to keep with us forever.
Every time I approach my mom with some cockamamie idea, she gladly follows my lead. I can't really wrap my brain what it must be like for my very traditional mother to have her very unconventional daughter. I have dragged her around to things she would never have gone if not for me. I ask her for ridiculous favors, tease her endlessly and say horrendous things that make her blush; all the while my poor mother often red-faced, flustered and frequently embarrassed, continues to allow me to be me. Today it was pajamas and pearls, next month, I guarantee I will come up with something just as ridiculous that she will laugh at and join me.
We hung up a little while ago, promising to call again soon. It's been a lovely morning, watching the sun rise, two young people wed, and giggling about hats, dresses and boys choirs. I miss my mom every day. Moving to be with my husband was a huge sacrifice for all of us. Today, I missed her a little less, feeling her next to me, sharing another marked day in history.
I hope to see my mom in person soon. When I do I will have planned something completely ridiculous for us to do in order to share a giggle. Maybe, just maybe if she is really lucky, it will be something where we have to rent full head to toe costumes. There is nothing like abject humiliation to pull a family together.

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

Living with college age kids is a little like having gray hair and acne at the same time; sometimes life just isn't fair. Don't get me wrong, there are times when I enjoy having them around, but I am looking forward to having an empty nest. Well, maybe just a partially full nest as opposed to the clown car we currently live in.
I saw where Nate Berkus was looking for a family who were living together in a small house. I wrote in, but truth be told, I don't think he would last a minute here in the frat house. One is required to have a strong stomach, stronger bladder and patience so long it could circle the globe. The good news is we are not homeless, the bad news is that is the bar we have set in order to survive this is a bottom feeder. Our bar is set so low...(c'mon, everybody now, say it with me, "how low is it?")our bar is set so low we could play pick up sticks with it, a snake could use it as a football goal, I'm too old to reach down for it...well, you get the idea. Making this work is a full time job. The really crappy thing is it has turned out to be my full time job. 3 of my 4 kids require my car for work, school, etc. This means my wheels are gone and I am in a hostage crisis. One would think I was able to get everything done I need to at home, but I am finding out what wasting time really means. I know I accomplish things, but what it is I am accomplishing is what is troubling to me.
My house is clean. Don't applaud or do a cartwheel on my behalf just yet. It takes me an extraordinary amount of time to clean a very small house. By the time I just "pick up a few things" four hours have passed. Here's a little word problem for you: If five people leave two pairs of shoes laying around a room that is approximately 15 feet wide and 20 feet long how long does it take to put them away? Why this math equation didn't show up in my high school class is beyond me. That is math I can get behind. The only isosceles triangle I have seen in my adulthood is the one formed by the piles of dirty dishes left on the counter, but that I just had to know. Go figure.
I ran out of cleaning fluid. This shouldn't be my big conundrum, but I will confess I buy the giant 500 gallon drum and have never run out before. Who owns a lifetime supply of cleaning stuff and runs out after three weeks? It turns out, I do. I run out of the most curious supplies. I have a current run on glass cleaner. We are always out of glass cleaner. I buy a bottle, use it once, put it away and the next time I see it is less than a quarter full. Is someone mistaking it for mouthwash? Are the dogs doing windows while I sleep? It's a mystery, one of several new mysteries that has me dreaming about paper towels and scrubby sponges.
I am currently obsessed, no strike that, possessed by the amount of time I need to do the shopping. I put things in the pantry, never to see them again. It's the Bermuda triangle of food. I never witness anyone eating, but the food magically disappears. It isn't the type of food you think would disappear, either. We're not talking snack crackers, people. It's bizarre combinations like, beans and beef bouillon cubes, or canned green beans and egg noodles, spam and anything. Weird ingredients disappear in the middle of night. I will tell you that I have two "kids" who are of age to drink, so that may explain some of it. But they are also the ones working who go out when they are hungry, so I am not convinced of that answer.
All of this odd ball household behavior leaves my grocery list looking like it is a list from a sci-fi movie. Mike looks at the list and very puzzled asks,"Are you really having to pick up duct tape, lemon cleaner, cat toys and meatloaf fixings?"
"Why, yes, Michael Darling, I need to pick up the oddest combination of things I have ever witnessed in my life!" I say with a smile, while wearing high heels and pearls. "Why are you dressed like June Cleaver?" Michael asks. "Because, the last time I went to the store and picked up this weird, miss-matched bunch of stuff the people stared at me like I was a serial killer. Evidently rope, paint brushes, dog food and dryer sheets are not something people pick up by as a grouping. I narrowly escaped before I got questioned by the stock guy in automotive supplies."
I am perfectly used to my car keys always being gone, or my wallet being broken into for gas or milk. I am not daunted by the endless times I cannot find the remote, my favorite and frequently borrowed flip-flops, or even the stack of mail I had laid down only moments before. What completely freaks me out is this really crazy endless grocery list of all things strange. I hear Michael out in the garage yelling, "Are you serious? We are out of silicone caulk? And where did my WD40 go? Have you seen my head lamp?" I act like I can't hear him, lest he come ask me where all his stuff went. I have my own problems finding things we used to own for decades. Sometimes, I hide in the bathroom if I hear Mike yelling for stuff. I never know where it is anyway, and I have no rational explanation for where it went, so my thinking is why be in the mix?
I had planned on taking single items out the kids room, one at a time, day after day, to see who cracked first. I had this elaborate plan in my head about how I would move things around their rooms, rearrange furniture by mere inches, unplugging things, taking out light bulbs from ceiling fixtures, just crazy stuff just so I could get an "all things weird" confession out of someone. What I hadn't counted on was how time consuming devious behavior is. I learned that I am honest because of the large work load involved in lying and stealing. I got kind of paranoid and thought maybe that is why the little buggers keep leaving their shoes lying around; if I spent all of my time picking up after them, then I wouldn't have the time it takes to be devious and rotten. Now that, is an evil genius plan!

Fairytales

I was putting my picture wall together when I sat down and looked at Michael and my wedding album to pick out pictures to use. I have never been the kind of girl who wanted all the pomp and circumstance when it came to getting married. I like planning weddings, I am just not all that hip to having to be in them. I like our wedding pictures, a perfect day in June with the sun shining, puffy white clouds in the sky adorned with a rainbow. It was lovely that day, if I don't think about all the ridiculous things that happened behind the scenes, with two left shoes my one bridesmaid had, or the seating chart problems, or the children resenting having to get dressed up in the heat of summer. Little did they know that Ohio hot is actually a reprieve. I had thought, a while back, I might like to be a wedding planner. I am good at finding things for next to nothing, squeezing every drop out of minutes, stretching them into fast moving hours to get everything done. I just never wanted all that for myself. I was an awkward bride, feeling very uncomfortable as the center of attention. Every eye on me as I walked down the isle made me very nervous, feeling nauseous and as though I might fall over. On our wedding day, I stayed focused on Michael at the end of the isle, glued to his smile, his eyes, I practically sprinted. While I had no desire to wear the gown or walk the long white covered isle, what I did want is the marriage. I looked at it as a small price to pay.
Years ago, my mom and I sat and watched Lady Diana Spencer marry His Royal Highness Prince Charles. I am a few years younger than Diana, so I was about seventeen at the time. We sat huddled on the couch, sipping coffee, watching the long procession, and the very young girl marry the prince. The royal wedding with all of it's traditions was something to behold. Mom and I oohed and ahhed at every detail that was carefully taken into consideration. And that dress...holy cow, I think about her dragging that huge dress around with a train that literally looked as though someone could climb into it and get lost forever.
The royal wedding itself, was magnificent, but what I remember the most was being with my mom. As a teenager, I made my mom earn every minute of her motherhood. By the time Prince charming married the girl, I was just starting to have a real relationship with my mom; up to that point we stayed in our separate corners, just trying to survive it. So many of my friends have lost their mothers. I see the pain in their words, the grief still barely visible to the naked eye. I called my mom yesterday and we made plans to watch the impending royal wedding on Friday together, by phone, only this time, my daughter will join us. I had asked Christy to get up and watch, too, but she declined saying, "I don't give a crap about that stuff." I knew she didn't care, but gave it a shot anyway, desperately trying to repeat the magic of the moment I had with my mom. Betty is the one who jumped at the chance to get up early and spend the morning with us old dogs, as we watch the next generation of royalty start their lives in earnest.
I surprise my husband with wanting see a wedding broadcast on TV. He knows I am not a wedding person, but this is different for me, it's more about the history than the wedding. I think some of my attachment has to do with the fact that Diana died a month before Danny. Her children were motherless, mine were were fatherless. I had watched the princes walk behind their mother's casket, only to watch my own children walk behind their father's casket a short while later. I felt an attachment to the young boys who were trying to cope with a devastating, life altering loss. Watching Prince William marry his long time girlfriend, seeing him happy, well, I think that gives me hope that these children, theirs and mine will be OK. For years, I worried about my children and the effect of losing their father. You get one set of parents. While Michael has been a brilliant step father, loving and kind, my children can not look at him and pick out which physical traits belong to them both. They all have so much of Danny within them. It's as plain as the nose on their faces, which belongs strictly to him.
I have all these emotional reasons for "royal watching". Back in 1997 when it seemed the tragedy in our lives would never evacuate, I wondered how it would all turn out. Would my kids be happy again? Would they grow up and be well adjusted people, or would this single event alter their future to the point they could not recover? I have heard it said, ad nauseum, that children are resilient. I believe whoever said that had no children of their own. That statement could not be made if one had ever spent time with a two year old. You cannot so much as take a toy away or refuse them a cookie without having them throw themselves to the ground screaming at the top of their lungs about how they could not continue in this life without that cookie. Does that sound even remotely resilient? I believe children are just tiny adults under construction. They don't handle things any better than we do. The difference for me is they have no choice, but to get on with it. They aren't healed at that point, they are merely mobile.
Friday's wedding is a marking of time for me. Where it had once been me sitting next to my mom with my entire adult life ahead of me, this time it will be my child, my youngest daughter, sipping coffee, laughing, acting awe struck by all the ceremony of the day. Every night when I tucked my kids into bed we had a ritual. We said "family prayer", we read favorite books, and in the end I stole a Steve Allen line, tucking them in, hugging them tight, I would whisper, "Remember, you had a happy childhood". As I look around the frat house, seeing bits and pieces of their childhood memories, I get to witness for myself, that indeed, they had. It turns out, they lived happily ever after.

Mouth Shut, Open Heart

So, after being away from things for a week, my self imposed exile taught me I have a lot to learn. So much about my writing started out about telling what I know, but being more quiet than ever, I found myself learning so much more than I thought possible.
Good Friday I cleaned the house and prayed while I did it. It wasn't about being religious. It was more about being faithful. As a Catholic I could talk all day, every day about how we as a church have gotten it wrong. I don't believe in one religion or one church. I am much more open minded than that. I am Catholic because it suits me with all of it's rituals, it's deep seated traditions. Sometimes I feel like I need to explain that, mostly because I never want to perpetuate any idea that I or the collective we know the answer. I don't think I am any closer to God than anyone else who believes in a higher being. I have no want to be exclusionary. All that judgment seems dangerous to me. Besides, it's not my job. God said He would handle it, and I believe Him.
As I scrubbed the floors on my hands and knees, I felt closer to my God. Cleanliness is close to Godliness for me. One of my favorite movie scenes has Morgan Freeman as God, in Bruce Almighty, talking about manual labor. "Some of the happiest people come home after a hard days work, stinking to high heaven..." I am paraphrasing, since I don't have the memory to retain movie lines or memorize poetry or verse, but you get the idea. That was the thought in my head as I cleaned up after four kids, and seven animals. I prayed the rosary, or "bead party" a reference my friend said on FB. I cleaned and prayed and prayed and cleaned. Before I knew it the day was gone, and I lay exhausted on the couch.
Saturday came and I finally made it to the store. I bought most of the groceries we will need for the month. The cart was overflowing and I felt relieved to have finally made it there and back, without a single phone call from home. Of course, when I got home I realized I had forgotten my phone, but nobody even tried to call, so I was still good.
Saturday night we had friends over so I talked and talked and talked. I also drank wine, ate cheese and laughed a lot.
Easter came quietly, with most of my brood working. I cooked, took it easy and watched movies. I never made it to church, but I have no real regrets about it since the pews, I am sure were packed to the rafters. Maybe next year...it's what I say when things don't work out as planned. It would be tough for me to regret sleeping in since Michael and I rarely get to do that. When it happens, I see it as a gift.
So there it is, my week of trying to keep my mouth shut, a success in that I am still growing, learning, still seeing things with new eyes. I am still able to look at nature, my family, my own life as if seeing it for the first time. That in itself amazes me, the childlike heart that remains in my ever aging body, is my personal miracle, and one I try never to take for granted.
I had tiny epiphanies all week long. One made me laugh out loud, while I sat watching Oprah alone. Oprah had a show highlighting her friendship with Gayle King. In the audience there were best friends, all women. The show was about best friendships where the women share everything. My best girlfriends and I don't share everything, we share a lot, mind you, but we don't have time to talk every day. My Gayle King is actually Michael. He is who I would have taken to that show. He is the person I talk to every day. He has been the person I have talked to everyday, long before we were married, and remains the one I want to share everything with still. I knew he was my best friend, but I just realized he was my very best friend, like the ones other women talk about referring to their girlfriends. I hear some women talk about their husbands and I think sometimes men get marginalized, compartmentalized into a certain role. For Michael and me, we were such great friends before we got married, talking, laughing, carrying on, I had already established my real self in front of him and he was his true self in front of me, long before we committed to each other. Our expanded roles in our lives makes things richer.
There have been many moments where I discovered things I guess I knew, but had never before recognized. My quiet allowed me to see things rather than just talk about them. My house has been more peaceful recently than in previous days. I know it's partly due to my quiet, but it's mostly due to my feeling more peaceful, so it turned contagious.
I have gained things from the past week, I will continue to carry with me. I wrote more this week, got more accomplished, found myself valuing things I had taken for granted. I think the family gained a few insights this week, too. Some of the wisdom was hard earned for them. Only they know how much they will retain. I plan on scheduling more quiet tome for me. Quite frankly, I have earned it. I know now without a shadow of a doubt, what I gained was much bigger than sacrifice I thought

No Silence From the Lambs

Day 4-
Today was a bad day. Not an earth shattering "Oh My God!" day, yet a bad day none the less. It started off pretty good with a hair appointment with my beloved Genell. The very same pebble in my pond I wrote about a couple of years ago. I went in, got treated like a queen, was coiffed, coddled and cherished. I got home to oohs and ahhs from Michael before he went off to work. So far so good.
Then the car, the only car for 4 people was being fought over. Schedule changes prevented me from running the errands I needed to run, and children too old to be doing this started fighting over theft of food and time using MY car. Originally I tried not to get involved, but escalating sound and profanity made me get up taking action. As I tried to unravel the overblown, ridiculous fighting I couldn't help but think how stupid it all was. Then this came out of my unbound mouth: "If you don't like sharing, being decent to one another, or living in this house, then by all means start exploring other options! YOU DO NOT HAVE TO LIVE HERE AND WE DON'T HAVE TO LET YOU!"
There it was, all the emotions I have been shoving into my silence splayed out before the children. They are not in high school anymore. I did raise them to be better. It seemed to me they opted out. I love my kids, but all this unnecessary squabbling about things that don't even belong to them is out of control.
I know I should feel some remorse and I do, but only that I felt driven to say what I had been thinking out loud. This is Mike and my house. They are guests because they are grown. I know they are only in college, but it is no excuse for bad behavior. The youngest boy is exempt from today's fight, but unfortunately it is today's fight only. As I look at the brood who seems like they were raised by wolves, I wonder where the sacrifice is for them. Working and paying your bills after the age of 18 is your job, not some bonus to ease a parent's burden. Mike and I never get a shiny, gold star for paying the electric bill, or keeping the insurance up to date. I needed to go grocery shopping this morning, something I had to give up in order for the others to use my car, and yet they will be the first to complain about the lack of food.
I went back to quiet after most of them left. The boy who is not currently in trouble is still here and avoiding me like the plague. I don't blame him. My whole day got thrown off, and all the others could do was think about how it effected them.
Quite frankly, I am disgusted by this behavior. There is no excuse to be that selfish, no matter the age, which ironically they were never that selfish as small children. As a tight group they always made sure everybody got equal parts.
The heart in me knows this will pass. The roommate in me wants to evict them. They are not very nice or helpful around our house.
Tomorrow is Good Friday, a day in which I always spend much of it in prayer. It is a day of reverence for me. When the church bells go silent on Friday until Easter, I spend much of the day getting my heart ready for my least favorite holiday. I have to be honest here, how we got bunnies, pastels and eggs out of a Savior being tortured and dying is beyond me. For me this time of year is solemn, a reminder of man's inhumanity to man. I know how it ends, without seeing the movie, but I do get kinda stuck on how it all snow balled into a tragedy first. Maybe that is why my kid's being mean to each other bugs me so much now. Things do snowball out of control, entire avalanches can begin with a single small rippling movement or sound.
Here in Texas our entire landscape is changing because of fires. One of the most beautiful state parks we have is now smoldering ash. It took nothing to start the fire, with the current drought situation, a single match could make the entire state go up in flames. For me that is really what Easter is about, singular acts, Ponces Pilot, Judas Iscariot, and ultimately Christ himself as He allowed the atrocity to take place in order to save the people, the world He loved. For Christians, a few singular acts changed the world.
So, the lesson for me today is not a bright shiny happy one, but maybe one of he most important ones I have learned to date; it takes next to nothing to change your world and the people in it. We all sort of have the ability to create heaven and hell right here on earth. Our intention, whether in selfishness or selflessness, will be the determining factor in how we live, with whom we live and what legacy we leave behind.
Tomorrow I will not write anything. It is day for me and God. I will fast, pray, take the day seriously, because as a Christian, I promised I would recognize at least once a year what sacrifices were made on my behalf. I will be peaceful, because I really do know how the story ends. As far as my kids, well, the jury is still out. One thing I know for sure, is they are healthy and we are together so they have the ability to take everything for granted. But God forbid, something really big happen to anyone in this family, they would deliver like Dominos.
Maybe that is why I have the opportunity to be so peaceful tomorrow, because when push comes to shove, it all works out in the end.

Silence is a fence around wisdom. ~German Proverb

I didn't get the chance to write last night, due to the fact I was busy living my life instead of writing about it. No snarkiness intended, just a bit of truth.
Day 3-I was pretty quiet most of the day until my oldest told me she wanted to take me out to eat. With Michael gone for the evening, the only plans I had was clean, finish some laundry and languish well into the evening missing my man/friend. Yes, I was more than a little free to go out and shake the dust of myself, since most of the week I looked more like a dust rag than a human.
My daughter, a college graduate and full time waitress, while waiting to go back to school for her second degree and grad school, has been dating someone for a while now, whom I have never met. She is a little secretive about her life, since she has no privacy in our house. Once a week we catch up on what is going on in her world. We talk about everything, including the mystery man. I had seen pictures of him, but no face to face contact. She waits when it comes to her personal life, before she lets me in. I have always thought it was more about her wanting to control her own life, than her being embarrassed of me. The truth is, I am a bit brutal when it comes to her and my other kids. I still do that thing where I ask "What are your intentions?" Now that, she is absolutely embarrassed by.
We had a quiet dinner where her "friend" (she hates the word boyfriend) waited on us. I watched him watch her. I watched as he asked her about what she wanted to eat, made suggestions, and gazed in her direction. That was my take-away from the evening, the way he looked at her. To be quite honest, I could give a crap if I like him, or what my opinion is about the man. What I am fascinated by, is how he feels about her and her about him. So I watched them both, their body language, the small smiles, the secret glances, the way they postured themselves. Removing the stalker-like attitude of my watching, I enjoyed seeing her life through their eyes. The man is 23, in college and wanting to be successful, all good things. He is handsome, bright and polite. And he is smitten by my girl.
At the end of the evening, I got the chance to meet his mother, who I must say is completely lovely. We chatted for nearly an hour, just talking kids, jobs, school, houses and parents. I get why he is smitten with my girl. His mother, whom he adores, is all of the things my girl is.
So, last night I was chatty. I allowed my life to go past any self inflicted silent treatment. I was thinking about sacrifice, as I let go of any preconceived notions of what this week was going to end up being and let it happen organically. I know what real sacrifice is, I have 4 kids. I could spend all day, every day listing out all the things I have sacrificed in the name of motherhood. What I sacrificed yesterday, by letting myself live rather than sit in my quiet place, was just another small thing in order to be there for my kids. It's always in retrospect that the sacrifices can be named, but at the time, they seem so small, so innocuous, so nothing. These small moments are the ones that take minutes and build into years, all the adult years of my life. I wouldn't change a thing.
When my girl and I got home, we had a glass of wine while sitting in the balmy evening, just talking. We talked for hours, sitting cross legged on our seats, looking into each other's faces, about family, friends, men, life. As I sat there looking at my grown child, so beautiful, smart and funny, I saw what the man in her life saw. She is extraordinary in her grace. When the night ended, she disappeared and I will not see her again until maybe next week or the week after, due to scheduling conflicts.
I learned something invaluable about myself last night and even verbalized it to the new man's mother. I have the gift of time right now. For years, I worked multiple jobs, ran to school, band and sporting events, did chores and house work, vet visits, orthodontic appointments, all the things mother's do every day. My only real wish was to have time. When I prayed, I would beg for it. I never felt as though I had the chance to catch my breath. When my careers ended, I spent my time panicked about not working. When I prayed, it was always for new job, a new opportunity, something else. I believe God answered my original prayer by giving me the time to spend with my kids, my husband, even my pets get more of me than ever before. I had been whining about getting the very thing I had asked for. Just a couple of weeks ago, I had decided it was time to stop panicking and let things happen the way they are supposed to. All that fretting did was make me tired and anxious. I am sinking into my new life, releasing the guilt of not "working" outside the home. I do have jobs, they are different from anything I have ever had before, so I had no idea how to act. What I did, ultimately, was act like an ungrateful brat. I have no idea how long I will have all this time on my hands. It came up suddenly, and in truth, it could all disappear. I know many women who would give their right arm to have as much time and freedom as I do.
So even as I broke my silence, I still was able to connect to a higher ideal than when I started this. Instead of viewing the change as failure, I viewed it as evolution, continual growth, and indeed that is exactly what I was able to receive.
Don't you just love it, when out of nowhere you get exactly what you asked for, long after you forgot you asked for it in the first place? The journey continues. I am back to holding my tongue, watching my words like word balloons from a cartoon hanging over my head. I'm just really happy, I chose to veer off the planned path. The experience was invaluable. And I held my tongue just long enough not really embarrass my daughter.

Do You Hear What I Hear? Nothing...

I am writing a little earlier tonight than I usually do. I have been almost silent all day. I did something I have been wanting to do for about 6 months, I put family pictures in frames and hung up all the frames to create a picture wall. It's actually something I have wanted to do since the kids were little. After we bought this house, I bought matching frames to hang pictures I love. Those frames sat in a corner of our bedroom for months, gathering dust, accomplishing none of the joy that I had originally intended. That's a funny thing about me, my intentions are almost always surrounding joy. I gave up the belief that "the road to hell was paved with good intentions" a long time ago. If I have no intention before I even start, then what is it I am heading toward? I figure, the very least I could do is intend to do good, intend on staying on the right side of things. The work certainly has to come after that, or it will sit and gather dust, just like my frames did.
I got every picture re-formatted to fit the frames of my good intention. Some copies came out less than perfect. When I hired an organizer to look at our small house, she told me I was a perfectionist. I thought that was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. Me,a perfectionist? I hired her to tame our mess. I thought an outsider would see the chaos immediately and start making calls to "Hoarders". Turns out, I am not as messy as I thought. We are a far cry from perfect, so because of my perfectionism, the organizer said, I tend to give up, feel overwhelmed. Yep, that sounds about right. I hate clutter, except at Christmas when I pull everything out. But if it ain't Christmas, it ain't welcome here. I despise cleaning around things, including people. Nothing gets me more fired up than having to ask someone to lift their feet while I vacuum. I am more likely to try and suck the socks right off their feet, than politely ask them to move.
Since I am out of the land of denial about my personality perfectionism trait, I decided I would be more productive getting something finished, even if it was flawed. I couldn't help but be fascinated by the fact that I am infinitely aware of how flawed I am as a human being, as I work everyday at forgiving my misgivings, but if it's the house, I go ballistic. That's a real thinker for me. I'll get back to you when I know what the hell that is all about.
Michael left a little earlier for work today but will be gone longer. I worked second shift for a long time, it has never been my favorite. It's not really his either, although he sleeps better when he is on it. I miss walking the dogs together, having dinner together, the small stuff. With us it's always been about the small stuff.
A package came today by UPS. They are hiding something from me. My birthday is in a couple of weeks, so it might be that. Or, just like my horse head, it might be something terrible they are afraid I'll freak over. Either way, Betty and Tom were scrambling to hide a box far from my view. Something tells me I am better off keeping my distance, lest my tongue leap from it's current cage.
I battled the bugs again today. Seems like I may be winning. Please don't tell Charlie Sheen I used his phrase. The last thing I need is to piss off Mr. Stability. The animals seem more peaceful and cats are eating again. Their food is laced with a flea killer , so I am hoping they don't notice. The oldest bratty cat, now 18, has a discerning palate. I keep telling him he is too old to be this picky.
I continue on my vigil. Slowly I am getting quieter and quieter, motioning rather than speaking, nodding or shaking rather than answering, and staying away from every gadget in the house. I haven't started the book I was sent yet, but Library Thursday is right around the corner, so when I take my books back, I can start this new one. I hate to start it now. I will feel like I am cheating on the library.
I have to work tomorrow in earnest, deadlines, ya know. I wear sound reduction head phones while I work now, so tomorrow I won't be able to hear or speak. I am one monkey away from being an old adage.