random thoughts

weekly therapy appointment: I'm still OK

digital camera situation: Still not OK. Must get out and start taking pictures, learn to download them, etc. Very important as I do not want to come home from Spain having taken crappy pictures.

work: lots. WTH am I doing blogging?

intelligent design: I think it's arrogant for scientists to assert they know it all -- but they don't. Only a few hundred years ago the world was held up by Atlas and two turtles... less than 150 years ago doctors thought they should treat certain illnesses with mercury. But science is always right until proven wrong. Still, they call it the THEORY of Evolution for a reason, don't they?

Spanish for trip: hopeless

the Spain trip: seems like a pipe dream, not part of my operating reality right now.

chocolate: cures many ills.

All Consuming: doesn't list Daphne du Marier's novel "Rebecca", very disappointing. How am I supposed to update my list?

blogoreadership: down significantly. Probably due to my inability to write anything coherent or entertaining. Shame.

Still a man's world

I have a great job. I work with some wonderful people, people who are a lot like family. It's unique, believe me. I haven't had this much fun since I left my first ad agency position.

The one thing is that I work in an industry that is almost entirely dominated by men. Most of the time it isn't a big deal. Oh you get the guys who treat you like a "girl" or don't make eye contact-- they only look at you a foot lower. Sometimes the management wonders why a customer likes you so much. And then sometimes, you catch a guy who's had one too many and makes a comment like the one I heard today. In what can only be described as a fit of jealousy a male vendor told a new female vendor that she only got her piece of business because she was a woman and the buyer gave her special treatment because he likes women.

Just when you thought the world had actually turned and we were out of the 19th century, some jackass comes along and tries to put women back in the fainting couch.

Well let me gather up my petticoats a moment and say what I think. I think guys like CH are intimidated by smart people, men or women. I think he takes everything down to the lowest common denominator, drinks too much and takes hurtful cheap shots. I think his way of business is going the way of the dinosaur. Correction -- it's already gone.

I think I'm glad that guys like him aren't part of my "family" and my regular professional life. I'm glad the guys I do work with treat me with respect and sometimes even a bent and silly affection that makes me feel like I have big brothers when we're out on the road. I think CH will never know the greatness of a job like this as long as he dismisses 50% of the world's population as too shallow and too talentless to get business on their merits and not their anatomy.

It may still be a man's world but the time will come when even us girls get some of the credit and our fair share. I'll still be here -- I wonder if he will. My guess is no.

Couch Trip

I guess it's inevitable that once the immediate crisis that brought you to therapy in the first place has passed, the guy will ask about your childhood.

I don't think about it very much. As an adult I look back and I honestly can't believe that no adults were concerned about this little kid rattling aaround in her own head for so many years. Today when a set of parents split and the kid starts to implode, most people say "hey maybe that kid needs to talk to someone". No one really said that when I was imploding. My teachers did get a wake up call in 4th grade ... I threw a book at another student who was tormenting the crap out of me (along with all her little heathen friends). That earned me two sessions with the school counselor -- before she had an anurysm and had to leave.

That was all the counseling I got -- until I was threatened with losing my job in college if I didn't pull myself together. I did 9 months with a PhD candidate at the University center and kept the job... and then graduated and moved away. Hey I was crazy in love by then -- who needed therapy?

So, other than a 6-week stint of useless marriage counseling and 2 individual attempts to say "hey something's wrong" I never went again. Until now.

And what am I getting out of it now? The satisfaction of being told that however crazy I may FEEL, I'm actually doing pretty good. I'm doing good.

Hey, what do you know? I am. We have a long way to go until things are "right" again but I'm starting to feel like it's not just selfishness that is driving me to say "I need" and "I want". It's OK to take my time, to decide for myself what is right for me. It's OK for me to ask for, and receive, respect.

As long as I've got God in the mix, so Someone doesn't let me fall off the curb.

I wish I could get in to more detail about what's going on but T and I are trying to keep most of this on the down low. Someday I hope all this becomes something we survived to bring encouragement to someone else.

kid stuff

Just to prove that I do still have my sense of humor, I thought it might be fun to share a little kid wisdom with you. This is courtesy of my friends' two wonderful kids who shared their very deep thoughts with me on a lovely late summer evening...

he: (describing the pecking order of the universe) "It goes monkeys, then us, then aliens." "why aliens?" "'cause their brains are bigger." (he demonstrates the head circumference with his arms held aloft like a power speaker in a stadium full of Promise Keepers). "and besides they have lasers." "we have lasers" Yeah, but they have laser guns." oh.

I have discovered that some conversations with younger kids are so spontaneous, they are like, 5 minutes in to it in their heads before they even say anything. Therefore, THEY know what they're talking about but we have no idea. Refer to above.

she: "Daaaaaaaad, let me tell you. There's early, which is on time. There's on time, which is late. And there's late which is unacceptable." (Her father remains unmoved -- and chronically late).

I was also told, that if I were to be sold, the asking price should be a kajillion quadrillion dollars.

All of these conversations and many many more took place with the constant movement of the very young -- the happy dance that kids do when they are still protected, innocent and full of joy.

Now that's great therapy.

personal hurricanes

When the storm comes and levels everything, you have a choice. You either abandon or you build again. As my very wise and dear stepfather said: what you build is either better or worse but never will it be the same.

I made a choice to seek some professional help. After that, to take an action I never thought I could take. Now I am standing on the foundation of my life and all else has been leveled off. Who will build my house again? And what will it look like?

I don't think T would mind me saying that he has also, at last, decided to get help of his own. I hope that one day soon we can build again what we allowed to be demolished.

Thanks for your prayers-- and for those of you who aren't just blog friends, for your calls. When people say the internet is too impersonal, well, they don't know you.

Peace,
Rose

lamest blog on earth

Now someone is going to google "lamest blog on earth" and get mine. Oh well.

It just hit me that the last post was so bad I ought to just delete it and remain silent. See, the problem is that this is my place to think with my fingers but the only thing I think about these days is something I just can't share with all of you right now.

I can say that I am deeply unhappy and would appreciate your prayers as I try to deal with some things. Things that have made me so sad and nervous that my gut is palpably twisting almost every minute of the day. This is not to worry anyone but just to say, as so often we do not, that I need your help. Let me hold your hand for just a minute, please. Tell me a joke so I don't forget how to laugh.

OK, now this really is the lamest blog on earth.

favorite season?

Last night K asked me "mom, what's your favorite holiday?" Far be it from me to be a traditionalist but I am definitely a Christmas girl. The season captures for me the essence of human kindness. Everyone seems a little friendlier, a little softer, a little happier. I think of frosty windows, hot chocolate, the whole package.

She asked me about my favorite season. It used to be fall but I have to say over the last few years, fall has begun to depress the crap out of me. Everything's dying. And here comes another, just when I least can handle it.

My vote? I'll go with early summer, when the leaves are still fresh and green and the thick dust and oppressive heat have not yet settled in. Summer is birthdays and barbecues and fireflies and long evenings that come on very slowly.

Anyone want to weigh in with their favorites?

Heart to Heart and more hurricane thoughts

If anyone is interested, Heart to Heart International is asking for both monetary donations and donations of care kits. The directions are very specific but easy and clear. I think it's a great thing to do with kids and I plan on doing a box full myself.

I don't think it's overstating things to say that this may now be the worst natural disaster in US history. When the bodies are recovered and the losses counted I think it's going to be very clear.

On a related note:
Most kids are pretty lucky to be so insulated from the problems of the world. I was definitely one of them. If anyone had told me when I was a teenager how much life could suck sometimes, I'd have politely declined my grownup membership card. I'd definitely have dragged college out for 2 more years, instead of being so anxious to get out into the world. Alas, too late. My prayer list is growing longer ... in the last two weeks a good friend was divorced, my niece may have cancer, a friend of a friend may have cancer, a co-worker's brother is still missing on the gulf coast of MS.

Sometimes I feel like there aren't enough prayers for all the hurt but then I have to remind myself, it only takes one. Just one.

PS - If you saw my earlier note about my co-worker's brother having been located, please disregard. Unfortunately, I misheard her. They have located a newspaper reporter in Alabama who has family in Gautier and has offered to go by her brother's house and look for them. If they aren't there, they'll go to the shelter and check there. The good news for now is that there are no reported deaths in Gautier. And maybe they'll have news soon.

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.