good times roll no more

Hurricane Katrina will be much covered on other blogs, so just some thoughts here, nothing too lengthy or cerebral.

Because I am very likely to start crying at my computer when I look at sad news, I generally avoid anything other than a cursory glance at MSNBC and CNN.com. But today I looked around at the coverage and all I can say is the good times roll no more.

A year and a half ago I spent some time in NO for a convention and one happy afternoon I strolled along the streets of the quarter, through Jackson square and up along the Riverwalk. It was a beautiful sunny day - a nice contrast to the miserable weather I had flown away from in Columbus, OH earlier that morning.

I can't imagine that much of what I enjoyed that spring day is now rotting under several feet of filthy water. I also can't imagine what the people of NO must think of Jean Baptiste Le Moyne, whose planning resulted in a city below sea level and surrounded by water, a great big bowl waiting to be filled. They would probably like to go to Monmartre and spit on his grave.

My prayers for the gulf coast - the great cities of New Orleans, Biloxi, Gulfport, Mobile and all the little ones in between.

vacation, all I ever wanted

November can't come soon enough. I can feel the burnout starting to settle over me. I need a vacation and some time to clear my head. I think Spain is going to be the perfect remedy.

I've read about every travel guide I can get my hands on, now I need a good phrase book and for my passport to arrive and I'll be set. I think I'll eat whatever food I end up with -- but I'll try to avoid the brains and nether parts wherever possible. I guess there's always fruit -- I'll be 2 hours south of Valencia at the start of orange harvest. I won't starve. And I'm cool with paella and most of the tapas -- love olives.

Mostly I just want a quiet mind. Maybe I'm starting to figure things out -- or maybe I'm just creating a bigger mess. Who knows? But I'll be so glad to spend time with A and have my very own "grand adventure". Until that time, I guess I'll have to be content with travel guides.

Angelita

I don't know if A will jump on here again before the plane leaves for Spain on Thursday but I want to ask anyone who reads this to send up some prayers for her. Between now and Christmas her life will change radically. She will turn 21, she will live independently from all her friends and family and she will become completely absorbed in another culture and language.

This girl whom I coaxed into halting friendship with the offer of a french braid for her thick brown hair, who hid her thumb fetish under the funny papers, this girl who wept bitterly when her baby sister was punished ... this girl who has been so patient with my idiot attempts at parenting these last years -- this girl is now a woman and it's time for her to fly.

She's so brave, this woman. And crazy enough to run in to a burning building, for real. She's also tender, prickly, funny, pretty, pragmatic and opinionated. She is so much like me in so many ways, both good and bad. She could be mine even though she is not. But even her parents can't say "she's mine" -- here's the thing. She's her own and she always has been.

God, please hold and keep our Angie safe and well and grant her joy. Give her safe travels to and from and let her know how much she's loved. We love her enough to push this little bird from her nest, at last.

Vaya con Dios, Angelita.

I did it

I made an appointment. Time to start implementing a plan instead of just thinking about it.

Everyone has a story

I think I would be a much nicer person and this would be a much nicer world if, when I interacted with people I remembered that everyone has a story.

A friend of mine just told me that one of his very good friends just found out he has cancer. He's young and he has a 2-year-old and a wife. He just got news that has rocked his world. But when he goes to the grocery store for bread and seems cranky in line, someone might think "what a jerk". I mean, I do it every day. I get my back up because someone isn't polite or because they act ... however. But I need to keep drilling it in to my head that we all have problems. We all have a story.

When you're a teenager or a young adult and you hear someone say life is so hard it's easy to be really blithe and think it applies only to some people and never to you. Oh but life is really hard. Really, really hard. How much easier it would be if we all could treat each other with a little kindness, some respect, give one another the benefit of the doubt. It would make a good day even better and a bad day bearable.

On another note, still have the counselor's number, still haven't called. Why? Scared to be told that I am wrong, scared to be told I am right?

And another note entirely: just 7 days until our A leaves for her great adventure -- 4 months in Spain. I miss her already.

50 things to be happy about

1. the way chocolate icing crinkles a little when you lick it
2. the way my dogs snort when they're really excited and happy
3. 29 minutes, 20 seconds on the treadmill (when I'm walking for 30)
4. overhearing a girl say she was going to be packing across Europe and realizing I'm going to Europe soon too
5. the deliciousness of falling asleep with the windows open
6. 20 jelly bellies for the drive home
7. scented candles
8. having dinner planned out
9. sticking to my food plan
10. getting lost in the library
11. laundry's caught up
12. the Renaissance Festival
13. a job well done
14. the wisdom of a kind heart
15. cats on my tummy
16. the fat fall issue of In Style
17. old friends
18. smooth red wines
19. half an afternoon in a steamboat museum
20. a $25 gift card for Dillard's
21. compliments
22. good hair days
23. good gas mileage
24. unexpected gifts
25. not having to nag
26. big earrings
27. diet coke with real limes
28. a clean house
29. private time
30. good movies
31. 54 mph on a wave runner
32. fountains
33. Creme Brulee
34. cheese
35. the crash and scent of the ocean
36. spontaneity
37. a very good sales year
38. organization that works
39. new checks
40. glass paperweights
41. the smell of herbs and cut grass
42. smoked turkey and cream cheese on a cheese bagel
43. cheese pizza
44. new shoes
45. jeans that make my legs look longer
46. feeling thinner even if I'm not yet
47. flying
48. the beginning of a much anticipated movie in a cool, dark theatre
49. winning
50. I made a joke and they laughed

hole to whole

I realize that I have lost control of almost every aspect of my life. It's not a good feeling.

My weight's out of control. My marriage feels like a hurricane. My house and yard need a million things that I can't find the time or energy to do. My God hole feels like a cavern that can't be filled. I have people depending on me to be something I'm not sure I can be.

Today I tried to start again. I got to bed earlier last night to try to get back some of my old energy and balance my moods. So-so progress, at least I was asleep by 10:30 instead of 11:15. I walked on the treadmill today and I had water first instead of my usual diet coke. I packed a nutritious lunch but that went by the wayside so I could have lunch with my boss, which was good. I was sidetracked by mayonnaise but I can recover.

I also have a number for a counseling service. The saddest feeling in the world -- to me-- is being out of control. And knowing I can't make things right on my own. I need God and I need help and I need to get in to my winter clothes. So before the day ends, I'm giving some of my precious minutes to God. And I'm going to pray for all these holes so maybe they can start being wholes instead.

peachy

I read my own blog and the inner editor goes crazy. I wonder if I would read it if I weren't the author. So, to perk things up a bit from my earlier and deeply depressing post, I'll tell you about the most perfect peach. Ever.

We stopped at Kimmel Orchard in Nebraska City yesterday. We were hoping that we could stumble upon some really excellent produce somewhere, since my own garden never materialized -- the first time since we've owned this house that I haven't had tomatoes or peppers or some embarrassing bumper crop of cucumbers and zucchini. And the birds had all my first year blackberries... I almost cried.

We bought a 5# sack of peaches, romanced by the size and the firmness but unsure about how to pick good ones... for the record, we pick terrible peaches. Either hard like rocks or mealy. A bad peach results in massive disappointment at my house and we're disappointed every summer.

But these peaches, Oh! Firm, golden, juicy, flavor times ten and just a hint of tart. It was undoubtedly the best peach I've ever had. God was really on it the day He made these peaches.

Don't bother with fruit from Wal-Mart. Just spend the money right now and find an orchard. And think of me as you founder on beautiful fruit.

where is everyone?

helloooooooo?

heeeeeeeellllllloooooooooo?

Random thoughts I though today while working on a 50-slide powerpoint for 11 hours straight:

• Indian food sounds good.
• What's up with a guy that packs a six-pack of underwear and socks, workout clothes and shoes, no toothpaste and one shirt -- for a three day business meeting?
• It's hot in here
• Why was there a construction worker burning something in the middle of the street 15 feet away from a building built prior to 1900 and about as flammable as cheap hairspray on a Saturday night? Looks like another 5-alarm disaster in the making.
• More caffeine, please.

I'd be afraid that I've written nothing of any consequence except there's no one else blogging and there's no one here to read it anyway.

Perhaps the weather has finally cooked everyone's brains.

Since I haven't got anything smart to say, least I can do is give you something to laugh at. I have actually incorporated a wierd collection of these cartoons, some clip art, photos and quotes into my marketing research presentation for next week. I'll have candy. It should be entertaining.

God Bless the internet.

Toothpaste for Dinner

he wins

Filed under "dumb things that go on in an airport".

Frequently, I travel to Nashville with my friend and co-worker MT -- aka work husband #3 (WH#3). Because of the customer we visit there, our flights are often delayed, moved forward or otherwise jacked with, which means we fly standby on Southwest a LOT.

WH#3 is the stubborn Irish type and loves to push buttons. He is much like T in this respect and for that matter he's like all the Irish men I know. Since I have karma that apparently attracts these guys, I know quite a few. Anyway, I digress.

When we signed up to fly standby on the 5:40 yesterday, the chances were slim that either of us would get on. For the first time in a year, only one could go. He got called since he was on the list first. It was OK, I was ready to kill time until 9:30 for the next flight. But no... he refused to go. And just as adamantly, I protested that I would not go in his place. Needless to say, there was a disagreement, then an arguement -- and some bickering that ended with the thoroughly entertained and amused counter agent putting me on the plane. He won! WH#3 won! He smiled as big as I've ever seen any guy smile who just got stuck in an airport for 4 more hours. So pleased with himself that he didn't even think about the evening ahead... just because he got to "win".

As a wierd postscript, we both had the same morbid thought at the same time ... what if either plane went down? The whole thing gave me a very interesting idea for a story... maybe I'll actually write it some day.

And yes, I was exhausted and glad to go home. And guilty and frustrated that I had to leave him. And grateful. I'd tell him thank you but then he'll really know he won and we can't be having that, now can we?

non-anniversary

It's my non-anniversary.

On 8/5/89 I married husband #1. Sixteen years ago. A lifetime ago since I woke up and submitted my 22 year old head to the skilled hands of a male beauty operator who put an entire can of White Rain hairspray on my hair to hold up a perfect jumble of curls and my homemade veil. 16 years since I had my breakfast of cranberry juice and chocolate donuts while blowing up a gross of jewel colored balloons for the church basement reception. 16 years since I posed for my wedding portrait, which is still my favorite picture. 16 years since we ran and hid in our dark, furniture-free apartment and ate leftover Chinese food and wondered "what now?" 16 years since the day we thought everything was just beginning, when in fact, it was the probably the beginning of the end.

If I could say something to my former husband on our non-anniversary, I would say this:
I had an inkling that we might fail: I'm sorry I didn't say so. I'm sorry I didn't know how to be a wife. I'm sorry for the dumb, destructive things I did. I'm sorry I didn't object to the dumb, destructive things you did. I'm sorry that we killed our friendship. I remember what you did for me when Poppi died. I remember it was you who told me about Antonio Gaudi and I'll think of you when I stand in front of the Sagrada Familia in November. I remember the smell of your leather jacket. When I remember, it's not just all bad things.

I'm happy that you have a career that makes you happy, a marriage that works and two healthy sons. I hope this marriage lasts forever and your boys get to know you in ways that you didn't get with your own dad. I hope you're happy.

And finally, that thing we did 16 years ago helped lead us here today. For that reason alone I will never regret that I loved you. Because from that little seed bloomed a fragrant, thorny, beautiful rose of a second marriage -- I now have a husband and two stepdaughters that I love in ways I never knew were possible. Thank you for helping me grow up so I could have that. Happy un-anniversary.

real miracles

If you ask most people today whether they have ever witnessed a miracle, most will probably say no. Some will laugh. Even Christians. Most contemporary Christians think miracles are the exclusive territory of the New Testament Jesus or some saint in another country. The world no longer believes in real miracles, for the most part.

But a few people will give you a shy smile and they will say they've lived a miracle. They have had a moment when the world stopped turning for just a nanosecond -- and then began again.

Evidence of miracles everywhere. Are we too simple to understand their meaning?

If you google miracle you get over 11 million hits - from hearing aids to salad dressing. But there are also some really remarkable stories out there... so minus the "moving statues" stories from New Jersey and Italy, here are a few of my favorites from the recent news.

Vann Matthews (sign-in required)
Air France flight 358
Susan Anne Catherine Torres
Lime Vula
Abigail Lurensky
Derrick Walker

Before you dismiss miracles, read these.

a prayer for forgiveness

Forgiveness is the answer to the child's dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, what is soiled is again made clean.
-Dag Hammarskjold

Some "stuff" has happened in my church over the last couple of years. I would love to tell all the non-believers I know that once you become a Christian things get easier and everyone gets along perfectly... unfortunately, we are all still people and we fall short, every day.

Since we've been members at CCC we have known half a dozen couples that have for some reason left. Most left angry over some perceived slight or perhaps a very real disagreement. It's their perogative to do this. It wouldn't be the way I would want to handle things because I believe that conflict resolution and forgiveness is part of real Christianity and to be real we have to wrestle with these things. But they're tough. And before I start sounding all holier-than, I can't really say what I'd do because I've never been offended by something that happened at church.

One couple in particular had been our friends -- outside of church friends. We were still in the friendship-building stage but they'd been to our house, T had helped them move. We signed papers stating that we believed they would make great parents to the kids they hoped to someday adopt. Then they had a disagreement with the church leadership and left. I sent them an e-mail from both of us, from our hearts, asking them not to go and stating our hope that the friendship would survive their departure. We never received a reply to that e-mail or any other attempt we made to reach them. They simply never talked to us again.

A few weeks ago, T bumped in to him at the library. He seemed really happy to see T. Then last night she left a voice mail to share their web address for their adoption page: they're about to leave for the Ukraine to adopt. I had completely forgotten that we had signed those papers.

I have to say -- I had written them off some time ago -- in my hurt and anger. I've found that I am having a hard time forgiving them. How arrogant of me. And how sad to feel this way.

Lord, let me let these feelings go and pray them safely to pick up the children they've ached for all this time. I would even love to have the chance to try and recultivate that friendship, to see their new babies and their new home. Let me forgive as I am forgiven -- completely, with no looking back at what's past.

One again, God finds a way to work -- through a child.

Nickel for your thoughts

no, it's not inflation. It's the release of the third Nickel Creek Album, "Why Should the Fire Die?"

It's good music. It's not pop. It has tight harmonies and mandolins. It comes out August 9. Enjoy.

Miscellany

Looks like another hot, dry and really boring week in store... First week of August.

T starts his new job today. Between 5:30 and 6:30 this morning I had a dream that he was trying to think of reasons not to go and then I woke up and he really was trying to think of reasons not to go. As he pulled out of the drive I prayed that he would enjoy this job. Please God, just let him like it. Let him be happy. We're putting everything back together one small piece at a time -- this is an important part.

I've got a loose itinerary for Spain now and some tickets on hold. But it still doesn't feel real. Madrid, Barcelona, Murcia, Alicante, maybe Granada. We'll see how it all goes. I've always thought one of the best things about traveling is the planning but I'm finiding it harder to plan this trip. I guess there's just so much you can do when you're headed somewhere so strange and new and you don't really speak the language.

I've got a boatload of work to do so I guess I'd better get on it. I'd rather have a nap. And dream of castles and the Mediterranean instead of husbands who want to quit work before they've started.