Quirks!

I was thinking this morning, as i flossed and brushed my teeth, of how i always start brushing on the top upper right part of my mouth. . without fail. So i purposely switched this morning and started on the bottom left. it was weird. . threw me off. Then as i worked today, i thought of all the little strange things i do and this mental list started growing.



i can't throw out greeting cards. . i have been saving cards since i was 15 -- people signed their names or wrote personal messages!

i accumulate huge amounts of paperwork in a pile on top of the filing bin and wait till the pile begins to tip before i file it.


i read several books at once


i have this thing for buying the latest fitness DVD - its like a fever. . must have them!!

i take my beverages with me throughout the house and absentmindedly leave them wherever i stop


i must smell the dishwasher soap tablet before it goes in the machine


i don't drink coffee, but i often take the lid off the coffee container, to smell it


i will leave a few spoonfuls of food on my plate and say i can't eat any more, which drives my husband crazy!


i get my knickers in a twist over misspellings and grammatical errors


i must do a spider check every night before going to sleep


i often have to leave the room when people eat with their mouths open or make 'smacky' noises with their lips


i leave unironed clothes in the utility closet, where they remain for many months


i always try to get out of cutting up the broccoli and lettuce on grocery day

i can't sleep if the closet door is ajar

if i hear a funny line, i find the need to repeat it out loud while laughing.

i don't like talking on the phone

conversations with and comments made by anyone on an average day remind me of songs lyrics

i can't walk slowly

i can't stand getting gas and always try to get out of it

i can never go to bed early - i seem to be incapable of turning in at a decent hour

most times when i go to hum a song, its "I Can't Make You Love Me" by Bonnie Raitt - i don't know why. . its a beautiful song, but there are many beautiful songs and you'd think once in a while the humming playlist in my brain would change?

Well i think that's enough of me.
How about you? wanna share some of yours???

kick

depression keeps rolling in and settling,
unwelcome
winter doesn't agree with my psyche.
not that it ever has, but i notice it a lot more in the last decade or so.
maybe i need a head shake,
or maybe just a good, swift kick?

i hate when all the things i enjoy, i can't seem to enjoy
reading. . don't want to
baking. . no, not interested
dancing, didn't feel like it tonight. .
writing, not in this state of mind. . .
if i sit down and write something,
i just end up deleting it.
my words are all locked up in my head, i can feel them in there.
they're being unruly and they won't come out.
seems like too much effort.
these ones made it, but they're not 'writing', just complaining.

the weekend was busy and enjoyable.
i had goals and met them.
i was distracted from the blahs by having lots to do.
today, day off work - you'd think i'd be ecstatic?
woke up to a completely open day and i just wanted to crash and do
absolutely nothing. .

yeah, i think i do need that swift kick.

sweet tooth

i was born with not just a sweet tooth
i think every tooth in my mouth must be a sweet one!


potato chips don't tempt me
fries. . .i don't really care for them
nachos? they're okay
pizza? pleh. . its fine
meat is all right. .
cheese -- like, not love it
bread is nice,
rice and potatoes - kinda ho hum but do hit the spot
virtuous veggies, i like

sweets. . . i LOVE.
No, "love" is not too strong a word.

chocolate, pies, tarts, cake, fudgey brownies, caramel, squares, cookies, candies, whipped cream, maple syrup, honey, creme brulee -- gotta stop. . i feel faint.

i often wonder why i can't crave the things that are best for me.

i can't imagine myself having attacks where i would go mad for a hunk of cabbage

where i would down a bag of baby-cut carrots like i pop back the 'sour patch kids' candies (if i let myself buy them).

i wouldn't daydream of opening a veggie stand the way i do of opening a baked goods shop.
i really doubt that i'd salivate over a piece of chicken the way i do over velvety, melt in your mouth chocolate.

If sweet things could impart top-notch nutrition i'd be the Queen of Health!

Instead, i fight against my baser food impulses and try to convince myself that a cuplet of yogurt is a suitable substitute for a gooey, warm chocolate lava cake. pffffft!!!!
Me? i would eat the stupid yogurt AND also have the lava cake later because the yogurt did nothing to assuage my longing for the bad/good stuff.

Instead, i talk myself out of innumerable purchases of naughty items.
but still cave at weak points and purchase enough to make dance classes and kick boxing DVDs a dire necessity.

Instead, i try to make healthier alternatives for the girdle-busting old school baddies. (they often don't cut it, sadly to the point i'd rather do without if i can't have the 'real thing')
Don't even ask me about the cake icing i made yesterday for my granddaughter's "pony" birthday cake! (gobs of soft butter and cups of icing sugar -- what?? did i say that??!!!)
I feel like a culinary jekyll and hyde. .
LOVE the bad
tolerate the good, while waiting to be bad again!!!

I can't remember not being this way.
I KNOW this sweet stuff does me no good, but its so wickedly delicious!!!
I've done 'kicking sugar' stints in the past. . which resulted in headaches, general grumpiness and the inevitable going back.
So now, i don't try to kick it.
I find ways to make peace with the constant tension of being a sweet-toothed person who has aspirations to live healthily.
Right now I have given up sweet snacks and excessive eating in general.
I get to have 1 measly dessert-type thing per week.
For me, its the equivalent of an Everest climb.
This world is not designed for virtue.
It is programmed for vice.
Discipline is hard going.
Watching food network shows is hazardous.
Makes me feel like a 'one eyed-cat peeping in a seafood store'
Baking is perilous.
But I don't feel like myself if i can't bake something.
I can't describe the calming effect it has on me.
My mind always goes to it.
My hands want to be mixing and beating and ladeling.
Whenever i travel, i want to and do hit the bakeries, where i will inevitably size up my goodies against theirs! and sometimes even think mine are better?!!
I want to visit the chocolate shop. the smells! the sights! decadent and dangerous!!
I'll whiz past that 'fry stand' to get some chocolate chip buns from Weil's bakery.
I'll forgo the fast food forever and make perpetual trips to the Cupcake Store.

I am a conflicted woman, but more happily than sadly so.
I continue to fight the good fight. . . trying to quash the desire for sinfully good treats while doing crunches and lunges and 'cardio' , exercising self control, baking less and giving away more, learning how not to eradicate the sweet tooth, but subdue it. . .letting it out of the cage once a week and promptly shoving it back in and barring the door! i had considerable trouble barring the door today after letting it out yesterday for the birthday cake! (confession time. . . i had a bit today after lunch but only a teeny bit). I have to be realistic. . i'm never going to swear off sweeties all together, but I am learning that they're not the boss of me. . . . most of the time!!

dysfunction, function. . . what IS function?

i bring things to light when i feel courageous
i hide them away when i feel like a coward
i confront, i get flak
i run and hide, no flak


i've been in an apathetic chapter for several years now.
hiding. .avoiding flak like the plague
hurts less but hurts more. .

confronting is risky, messy
its also tiring
giving up seems like a good thing?
guess my fear drives me to find ways to avoid dealing with things
journaling
raging
sealing off the rage
eating
baking
eating the baking
listening instead of divulging
avoiding praying
praying with avoidance
is that even praying?

i love being around people
i need to be alone
my heart feels full of compassion, love
it feels contracted and scarred
i feel like a reasonable facsimile of myself most times
other times, not so much
can i make up my friggin' mind?
its exhausting, sliding in and out of connection and disconnection.
each time it gives a jolt

there are some 'buttons', when pressed will release either:
1. a torrent of tears
2. a blast of anger
3. both

and afterwards. . a settling blankness of unresolution that sometimes lingers in a thick, clinging fog and other times blows away like morning mist.
but its never really gone

i'm pretty sure that most people, if they were honest, would confess to living with some degree of dysfunction.
i know there are too many people living with their own unresolved things
weighed down
stubborn
defensive
substituting
transferring
not acknowledging
not communicating
avoiding often messy reality
afraid
tired
self helping
pretending
misuse/abuse
at an impasse
in a trance

no need to live like this
dysfunction in the long run, withers the spirit
weakens the body
and erodes the soul

hot? not?

well,well. . .i'm a fool, yes.
i was beguiled by my senseless ego
someone sent me a facebook 'you're a hottie' invitation today
I do realize that it was a mass invite in order for them to see how hot they were!
Still, it flattered my ridiculous sense of curiosity.
just how 'hot' was i anyway?
curiosity killed the kat?
yes, i admit it -- i wanted to know!
but to find out just how flamin' hot i was *bah!* i had to invite 15 other people to discover how they fared on some arbitrary human judging or computer-generated list.
I even saw a 'top ten hot list' of FB friends to entice me to participate in the hotness ranking.
I thought: "Ooh, they must have been curious too!"

As the application loaded and told me i was in the 'top (#) hotties of (#)friends'
i started to feel uncomfortable
i didn't think i wanted to do this after all.
as i saw pictures of my friends, with numbers assigned to them and my 'hottie-list'-given ability to confer 'hotter' or 'cooler' status upon them,
i became angry
my stupid ego slunk away and my reason and sense came surging forth
thank God.
geez. . .

who am i to 'rank' anybody's hotness?
why do i feel so insecure that i would even want others to rank my 'hotness'?
and how would i feel if i discovered that i was not perceived as hot?

Again, i think women are so beseiged by 'hotness pressure' everywhere in every way.
they may even feel like they're not proper women unless they are regarded as hot.
Oh, i can't go along with that.
I'm not going to belabour the point in a feminist-flavoured rant and
I realize that i'm not exploring new territory here. . lots of people have talked about this mass mania for thinness, desirability, 'hotness' and how such unbalanced fixation messes everyone up, skews thinking, damages bodies, minds, spirits, even takes lives -- dangerous obsession
I don't even like the term 'hot' in reference to people's looks.
Its not a very lovely or forgiving word.
In fact, its rather base.
It doesn't have noble connotations.
beautiful is a much more embracing word. . . it can stretch to fit the whole person and not just cover their epidermis.

"God doesn't make decisions the way you do. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at a person's heart and intentions." (1 Samuel 16:6)

my momentary lapse in judgement has passed.
the "you're a hottie" application has been deleted from my profile.
friends, men and women. . . i rank you all beautiful, without exception and without preference.

Sadie and her aunts

Our third grandchild, our granddaughter, Sadie Evangeline, was stillborn on December 10, 2007.


She was a beauty, a doll. We have all been walking through a veil of tears. Its has been unreal and horrible. Our grief has been intense.



Sadie will be laid to rest in the spring, alongside her great grandpa, and just down the way from her aunties, our twin girls, whose grave you see here. We will gather on that day and we will celebrate and remember Sadie's life.



I thought i had long worked through the grief of losing our girls. I have recently realized that this is not so. This gravestone is all we have. We have no footprints. No clothing. No bracelets. No photos. I have an old shoe box in my closet in which lay the ultrasound findings of their deaths and a yellow copy of my antenatal record on which my too large for my dates girth was circled on a graph. Also included in the box are various condolence cards and a cemetery record and map of the plot. I was only 5 1/2 months along when the first twin died. . another week passed at which time the second baby had died. . and another week still had gone by before i delivered them. The circumstances made for a great hesitance in looking and bonding. But in this past month and a half, as our daughter and her family have gone through the heart-wrenching loss of their little baby, and as we have walked alongside of them as parents, feeling for them and as grandparents feeling the loss of our grandbaby, the whole issue of closure has come up.

As painful as it is, it must come. As my daughter and her husband sort through what closure is for them, I realize that i have repressed a lot and have not had closure surrounding the stillbirths of my daughters, over 2 decades ago. In my own heart and its feelings of grief for Sadie and for my own babies, I have come to realize again how necessary it is to have symbolism, meaningful memory and identity. Those things are so helpful.

I had been able to see Sadie before she came out, growing under wraps as that adorable little bump, imaging what she'd look like and how it would be when she joined us. I finally got to meet her and touch her cheek and know her name and look at the clothing she wore on her first and only day here. As difficult as that was, i got to see her little face and bond with her. I see the teddy bear her mom bought. I see her foot prints on paper and it all helps me to know her and miss her. I miss her terribly.



Stillbirth is handled a lot differently now than it was 22 years ago. Back then it was thought best to hide everything away. . no pictures, no seeing, no touching, no foot or hand prints. Whisked away, just like it never happened. But it did. I didn't see their little faces. I didn't hold them.
It was too unreal.


My grief now for my granddaughter has brought me right back to my daughters and is triple in intensity. A measure of grief for each little girl. A measure of love, a big one. Still i am so grateful for each, as painful as their loss has been. Yes, I have shaken my fist at the sky and asked why, i have cursed the unfairness of it all, but as it settles in, i have learned once more about the deepening of love through suffering in the lives of those who have been refined by this intense sorrow.

With all the mingling of thoughts and love for each of these little ones. . . for Sadie whom i've seen and for her aunties, whom i've never seen, nor could bring myself to name them; i asked Rob what he thought about giving names to our twin girls after all these years. He thought it was a good idea. We asked our adult daughters what they thought. They said they'd always wanted their sisters to have names! I feel a settling peace. Little Sadie, who present absence has filled and sensitized our hearts, has been used by God to stir us, as a family, to name our daughters/sisters/aunts: Fiona Gillian Claire and Keely Madeleine Rachael

coyote. . .

random thought. . . ..

The Roadrunner always annoyed me.
I rooted for the coyote.
He had some good ideas!
How come he never tried them more than once?

Chapters gift card - half used

I love the store "Chapters".
I think its my favourite.
Nothing but books and mostly book-related items.
I especially love making the trip when its on someone else's dime!
Gift cards are fine things.
I think i scoured the entire store tonight -- and found all of my purchases in the bargain sections. Nice!

Two gorgeous 200-photo albums - 75% off $3.25 each!
The Complete Poems of John Keats $6.29
Selected Works of Virginia Woolf $11.69 *8 of her most famous*

I'm always looking at the cookbooks and I have my favourite chefs.
I have a pretty complete library at home, there's not much more i feel i must put my hands on.
There was one though. . . Ina Garten "Family Style". . . some gorgeous recipes in that one.
I had it in my cart with the intention of asking the clerk whether indeed it was still $50!! *The American price was $35!!!!! and our dollars are pretty much on par with each other. . . so this is definitely NOT fair. *
I asked her and she tried to smoke me with : "Well, ma'am all our hardcovers are 30% off." p.s. i hate the term 'ma'am'. . . its musty and old.
I said back: "30% off the American price or 30% off the Cdn price?"
At this point she was honest and said it was off the exorbitant Cdn price.
I told her i had lost my desire to buy it.
"I know its not your fault, said i, but that's crappy."
She just glumly nodded, as did the clerk next to her.
Blah!

Other than that bit of silliness harshing my Chapters mellow mood. . i was very happy when i left with half of my gift card value remaining for a future visit and my trusty "Irewards" 10% off membership card back in its holster, i mean wallet slot.
Using that card on already discounted stuff feels GREAT!

I don't know which book i'll start with first. . though maybe i should finish off one of the books i have here - still have in various states of 'almost finished'.
I suppose i should complete my Garcia-Marquez (100 years of Solitude) first.
KK will soon want to 'borrow/keep' it when she finishes her "Love in the Time of Cholera".
"100 years" is infinitely marvellous, so i don't know why its taking me so long to read it?
I can't believe that man's way with words, his imagination isn't like a typical adult's.
If i could possess just a fraction of his magic, i'd be happy.
Although if he had made a Robert Johnson 'crossroads at midnight' deal for his talent. . i take back what i said!! eek!
I didn't pick up anything of his (G-M's) tonight. . . my brain wasn't in gear.
But now I know what i'll get with the remainder of my card!
Forget the over-priced American cookbooks. . . there are tastier offerings.

can i stand?

in my post-"Christmas" whatever that 'thing' is that we all do. . was that Christmas?
in my unwinding, my grief, my gladness, my feeling of emptiness that comes when i lose focus on the one my heart loves and so easily forgets, i asked Rob to get his guitar out.
He obliged. . and he played and we sang.
In the course of our singing we came across this one again.
I remained quiet and listened as Rob played and sang it. I love the tune he gave these words - so beautiful. I wish you could hear it.
And it hit me all over again. . . its not about me, not about my feelings, not about my anything.

I remember writing the words. . . almost 8 years ago. I remember how i felt then --upset by circumstances, sitting down by the shore of Lake Erie, writing, working through my feelings. This is what came out. I felt my focus shift from me to God. . and that was a good, necessary shift then and again tonight. . .sorely needed.


can i stand in the light that exposes my sin?
can my tainted soul take your glory in?
can i understand how you made it all right?
can i thank you enough?

can my childish self know the cost of my gain?
can this selfish child feel the depth of your pain?
can i grasp how you suffered, so i could go free
can i thank you enough?

can i thank you enough
can i thank you enough
can i grasp how you suffered so i could go free?
can i thank you enough?

can i really believe that you love who i am?
can i see that my name is engraved on your hand?
can my soul really fathom the depth of your love?
can i thank you enough?

can i thank you enough
can i thank you enough, Jesus
can my soul really fathom the depth of your love?
can i thank you enough?

k&r aug 2000

my heart

". . . my heart was broken. my heart was broken. . sorrow, sorrow, sorrow, sorrow. .."

thinking about the need

lately i have been very emotional, thinking about the reason we need Christmas.
i'm glad to be feeling, because i was starting to worry about grinchiness. This year i'm a complete flop at getting ready for "Christmas" the way it is gotten ready for in North America.
I am so loathe to be at rat in the race this year. . . i've made some reluctant forays into the retail maze. . . blech. . i don't even like the 'cheese' at the end, it stinks.

Yes, the world's a mess, we all know it and Christmas has this way of sensitizing people to need, which seems extremely appropriate, given that dire need is exactly what Christmas is about.
but its not even about taking such a large view to highlight the problem and need for a lasting solution, the need is seen within

in me, it shows up every day.
i can't be good
i can't stay good
i try, i can't sustain
its not in me
i have lots of illusions of goodness in what i do and say and think. . .
but what's that taintedness at the bottom?

me, me, me, me. . . how is this affecting me? how do i feel ? what's in it for me? how can i be happy? what about me?

Of course this is paring it down to the core, but isn't that the only thing to do when trying to get to the truth?

i'm not saying i'm a spoiled brat 24/7, but i often am on the inside, in my heart, in my thinking. i feel very J&Hyde most days. If i was to remove all the social filtering i've learned through the decades, i doubt that anyone would want to have anything to do with my black-hearted self. I'm not saying all this to seem particularly insightful or bracingly candid. i'm just saying it like it is.

the true me is not a good me. this world is populated with billions of "me's" and there is not a single good one. all dark of heart. . with variations of shading . . but dark, without exception. every 'me' hides, every 'me' is selfish, every 'me' is identically damaged, every 'me' is in dire need of resuscitation.

when i was 30 i got to my breaking point. i realized finally that i hadn't learned from what i'd experienced. I couldn't make sense of a lot of it.
i felt bleak inside.
i gave myself over to this 'why bother' attitude.
why bother trying? why not just be . . . . only human, independent, proud, blatant, nasty as i wanna be - when i wanna be, angry without temperance, faithless, cynical, jaded
"Christmas" felt as hollow as a glass ornament and so did i.

now in my mid 40s and several Christmases later, i have been allowed a decade and a half of some more things i'm positive you wouldn't want to experience. i sure didn't want to. It wasn't all angst and gloom, there were amazing things as well in this time - but it seems to have been in the shadows that i've experienced the most change and growth, as painful as it might have been . Joy and rain, sunshine and pain.

i've learned some things that radically changed my heart.
i 've learned that sometimes what seems the worst can actually turn out to be for the best.
i 've learned to be grateful, i'm still learning this way of living.
i've learned to live from all parts of myself - body, mind, spirit and i've still got a long way to go with this, but i'm practicing.
i've learned to exercise -- even haltingly and losing ground sometimes - faith. .
elusive, mysterious, even for some, mockable faith.
not faith in myself because i am by nature faithless,
not in other humans, because they're in the same boat with the faithless nature thing,
but in Him. . in the one full of faith -- Christ, the one who saw our need and came down here with a heart for meeting it. I really believe that this is how it was and is and this is what really happened.
I have to tell you. . .
He is the reason i no longer feel hollow
He is the light in my eyes and in my smile
He is the one who sparks my heart to care
He is the one who 'speaks' into my spirit and brings it increasingly to life
He is the one who gives me the ability to be good, though that ability is all his and never has originated within myself
He is the one who sees my 'rotten core' and doesn't pull away in disgust. .
no one else has such love capacity
no one else has such love purity. . there's not even a sliver of darkness, not a pinpoint
How can i not respond to love like this? sometimes i get so emotional thinking about the only love in my life that has the power to redeem my darkness and i can never, with my words, thank him enough, but i use words and i thank him with my life.
He isn't 'seeable' to my eyes, but He is felt by me and while for the longest time i ignored his love, i always knew it was there, even as i piled offensive things up and up on top of it,
his stubborn love was not smothered by my attempts to bury it.
until the day i stopped piling. . . i can't forget this day, soaked in despair, crisis was a normal state. . and i remember lying on the bed, crying. .busy with the crying and the feelings of why i was crying and being wrapped up in my weeping. . which of course ran its course and after a while settled and i became quiet. Then came the moment when i 'heard' these words deep within myself, in the silence . . . . ..............."i love you, Kathy"

they weren't my own words in my mind, because i did feel like saying such a thing to myself. They were unmistakable. My heart knew it was him. I was 'resuscitated' by four beautiful words. I was still in the crisis, but i was remarkably changed right there in the mess of it. . i no longer felt alone, i never was, but now i didn't feel that way and i was different after that.
I looked the same in the mirror, but i was not me any more. . i was me plus him forever.
Not 'stereotypically Christian' if that phrase brings overtly fanatic or negative thoughts to mind.
The degree to which the difference is obvious is the degree to which i surrender my heart daily.
I have to tell you its not easy. Surrender is not easy. Some days you might see me and dare me to prove there even is a difference. . and those would always be the days i'm unsurrendered and i can feel the difference.
But easy isn't promised.
I have to tell you i make mistakes.
But i am completely encircled by Christmas every day of my life,
not baby in a manger, that was only the wrapping of the gift, which opened into life for the spiritually dead, which means the whole lot of us.
I am encircled by light, when i was dark
I am encircled by good, when i was bad
I gave up my illusions of independence to be dependent on him for life with meaning.
What a gift. .
i'm so emotional.

i love mincemeat

yeah, i love mincemeat
all by itself,
no pastry
a little bit heated in a bowl
little scoop of vanilla frozen yogurt
spicy and jammy. . with that clean vanilla flavour mellowing in

i love fruitcake with marzipan
same flavour hits with this treat
dark, rich cake with delicious dried fruit
almond flowery-tasting marzipan bringing that
clovey cake into perfect balance.
i could write a whole post about marzipan. . its that wonderful
the combination of these two elements, .... magic

I love the traditional, steamed Christmas pudding with real whipping cream
mmm. . mmmmmm -- moist, studded with fruit and nuts and permeated by those full, earthy spices - cloves, cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg
i love to make these glorious things, but they're a bit labour intensive
so i've given up
i'm sad that its come to this.
they remind me of my Nana, who made fantastic ones -- in fact, she made fantastic everything (except perhaps gravy)

This declaration of my admiration for fine, beautiful and fruity flavours is brought to you by me, food enthusiast and connoisseur of the three most generally unpopular Christmas time flavours. So, here's to marzipan fruit cake, Christmas pudding and mincemeat! hip hip, hooray!! 'Hip hip' all right if i don't watch my portions!

so bad, what's my problem?

i have found myself unable to write anything lately.
i'm in a kind of apathetic fog
i don't blog about current events because i don't keep current with the events.
are there events beyond MSN's home page coverage of Brangelina and Britney and the dollar levels?
my newspapers pile up, waiting for me to read them.
my household paper work does the same.
am i living out of country?
nah. . just a procrastinator.
work has me in a spin these days.
of course its busy in there
i know everyone's in that boat -- *the 'busy' boat* (i'm starting to hate the word 'busy' - and i've been entertaining the notion of striking it from my vocab and subbing something less annoying. . . like 'active' or 'industrious')
i wish i could jump ship and go over to the 'lazy' boat
work =
drama
stuff
issues
actual job stuff and lots of it
chocolate breaks *groups of women at work? say no more.*
come home with Rob
vent all the way home to each other (we work in the same place - different departments)
figure out what to make for supper
make supper
clean up
flop in the chair
think about working out, but don't cuz i'm too tired
doze off. .
think about all the Christmas shopping i must do. . .
and don't do it cuz i don't feel like it
get up
do laundry
retrieve phone messages
retrieve emails
catch up on both
get mail and papers from outside - add them to growing piles inside
read (not the stuff in the piles)
watch a show/movie
wonder how our girls are doing
wonder how the grandkids are doing
wonder how my Scrabulous games are doing on FB
play a turn or two. . .
make lunches for next day
choose outfit for next day
put out breakfast
put out toiletries to make it faster in the a.m.
fall into bed
sleep
up at 6:45
let dog out
check her food/water dishes
feel guilty for leaving her home alone all day
get ready
drive in to work
repeat daily drill until its the weekend
then a brief crash before 'the cram' (trying to do everything you want to do all week in the span of 48 hours)

i'm such a whiner
my apologies. . .
this is the 'empty nester' life/workstyle - younger moms have all the 'active' stuff with their young kids to deal with.
garsh. . . i'm already getting in practice for my 'grumpy old woman' years,
complaining about everything

it is hard though to go from working at home *which i've done for years* to working in the office.
working at home means rolling out of bed 10 minutes before you start your shift
putting on yoga pants and sweater, slippers
go downstairs - get cereal
splash face with water
no make up
no doing of the hair
go to computer
work
no drama
no stuff
no chocolate breaks
no conversations
no lunchtime banter with the girls.

you know what?
the daily routine ain't so bad
i'll shut up now.
i took out some butter earlier
maybe i'll get a start on my Christmas baking?
yes, i know lots of people think baked goods are 'no nos'
but i like 'no nos', anything i shouldn't have or do. . i'm gonna!!
anything i should ?. . you guessed it. . . can't help myself.

i'm not ready for all this

it started right after Halloween.
the 'lite rock' station was on in the office *shudder*. . that's a whole other blog topic.
i'm not a fan of any radio station - whose play lists daily expose me to gems like: "Shake Your Booty", "Rhythm of My Heart" and "Live Like You Were Dying". . geez, i can't bear the cheese.
After every couple of insipid songs, they began airing these 'holiday' commercials.
I felt so unprepared to hear these things.
Rapid-fire voiceovers superimposed on jingle bellish, string-heavy muzak tracks
I thought i might hurl.
I mentioned to this to one of my co workers, who seemed unfazed.
Maybe she was better able to tune it all out?
The more hours went by listening to all that crap,
the more angry i became.
Angry with the propagandish pressure on us to buy things.
Angry with society's interpretation of 'holiday'
Angry with the misdirection of it all.

I can't even pick up the newspapers lately. . they weigh half a ton - full of
gift-buying guides
wish books
countdown to savings
Christmas countdown
holiday baking editions
holiday magic
festive recipes
holiday home improvement guide

I don't really like being guided in this way.
I don't think its the right way.
I feel under so much pressure.
Pressure to choose and shop and spend and clean and bake and organize and cook and wrap and decorate and look great at all the soirees -- then there's the small matter of working full time and cramming all that extra stuff in there somewhere.
Is it just women who feel like this?

I've pretty much stopped with the Christmas cards.
They were just one more thing - sending cards to people i see all the time. .
I'm trying to keep myself together mentally
and spiritually.
Not easy at holiday time,
which i find pretty ironic

Holiday: O.E. halingdoeg -- 'holy day'
holy: of God, his works, dwelling place, attributes, etc.
living a life of spiritual purity, dedicated, set apart for sacred use O.E. halig

I don't want to seem grinchy
I love Christmas trees
I love candles
I love music
I love the traditional meal, cookies, mincemeat, egg nog
I even love fruitcake (which is a brave confession, i know)
I love feasting with people i love
I love giving to help others
I love to celebrate
I love the way people 'feel the Christmas spirit' -- beautiful
I love the love story of Christ - the Messiah, the Redeemer
I need redemption, i need love

I guess i just worry that we've lost our collective way
I worry that we've lost the essence of holy days
I worry that we buckle under the intense pressure of the 'holiday culture' -- 'Ho, ho, ho!', Frosty and Rudolph and "Buy yourself a merry little Christmas". .
keeping it lite and avoiding the light
drinking, feasting, jockeying for parking spots at the mall
drowning in a sea of desperately-seeking shoppers
feeling tinsel covered yet empty
donating a little something to assuage our feelings of guilt with this overboard overabundance
eating shortbread while wondering if we're still sane
wondering if this is how it will always feel
wondering how to feel

All the streets are filled with laughter and light and the music of the season
and the merchant's windows are all bright with the faces of the children
and the families hurrying to their homes as the sky darkens and freezes
they'll be gathering around their hearths and tales, giving thanks for all God's graces
and the birth of the rebel Jesus

Well they call him by the Prince of Peace and they call him by the Saviour
and they pray to him upon the seas and in every bold endeavour
as they fill his churches with their pride and gold and their faith in him increases
but they've turned the nature that i worship in from a temple to a robber's den,
in the words of the rebel Jesus

well we guard our world with locks and guns and we guard our fine possessions
and once a year when Christmas comes, we give to our relations
and perhaps we give a little to the poor if the generosity should seize us
but if any one of us should interefere in the business of why they're poor
they get the same as the rebel Jesus

So please forgive me if i seem to take the tone of judgement
for i've no wish to come between this day and your enjoyment
in this life of hardship and of earthly toil we have need for anything that frees us
so i bid you pleasure and i bid your cheer from a heathen and a pagan
on the side of the rebel Jesus

Jackson Browne

leaving things

Today i was cooking and thinking, to music.
I was making a meal for my family --
every meal leaves a memory
such a simple thing,
a small way to show love.

I started to think about so many people i know, i've known.
I was thinking about what they've left.
I don't really mean physical departure leaving, though some have physically departed in a locational way and some in an eternal way.
I'm thinking along emotional, soul lines you know?
the things people leave every day.

i know people who travel the world.
They leave home to do more leaving,
leaving music in the air of countless gyms, halls, arenas and venues around the globe.
leaving well-spoken words of encouragement, challenge.
leaving behind smiles and photographs, autographs

i know people who don't go anywhere.
they stay but they leave --
words
impressions
feelings
honesty
looks
wisdom
experience
talent

some people leave big things. . things that people who don't even know them would know about.
sure, lots of people have left big things -big things can be good or bad.
legacies
atrocities
most of us don't leave 'big', but even the small can take on big proportions.

i know someone who paid tribute to his departed wife by describing all that she left.
not 'things', not big. .
moments --
he loved her for them all.
i loved her too.
she left me memories,
good ones

i know people who brought so much with them and left even more
when they departed. . changed lives, thoughts, perspectives
Things left will always remain. .
this can be really good.

i knew people i thought would never die.
my child's mind could not accept this kind of leaving.
by the time they did, they had left so much
i feel like i am 'me' because of the accumulation of all the
things they might not have thought much about.
things i might not have really appreciated at the time -but do now.
memories
feelings

i want to be more intentional about what i leave.
yes, i'm ashamed of all the bad stuff i've left. .
angry words
bad responses
knee-jerk reactions
selfish choices
things i can't change
*only human? yes.
still, there's a higher calling.*

i can't leave what isn't fit to leave
no matter if someone else did.
i can't allow this to colour what i leave.
its hard to break cycles like this,
but not impossible.

i want to live my days being conscious of what i leave for others
i can't leave what i don't have.
love is the only thing that makes everything all right.
its not often easy to receive,
or give. . .
but its the only thing worth leaving.

in your love, my salvation lies in your love
my salvation lies in your love . . - Alexi Murdoch "Orange Sky"


Lets stop just saying we love each other, lets really show it by our actions- its by our actions that we know we are living in the Truth. portions of 1 John 3: 18 - 19

sacred

i'm sensing the presence of the sacred now in my mind, my heart.
i'm thinking about what sacred means, feels like, looks like.

i just watched a beautiful reminding video of the very sacredness i too often skirt around, inch back from -- maybe because its so intense i don't know if i can handle its unsettling purity? i need reminders, i'm so forgetful and blithe.

i'm so profane.

i don't choose to be that way. its just programmed - i'm fallen and i can't get up.
really though this kind of falling isn't a joke.
i know, i always know - i live with the intimate knowledge of what it is to be fallen. . selfish, bad.
I despise this core nature of mine.

I find it so easy to dip my toe in the pool of God's mercy, walk around the periphery of his grace, afraid, afraid to commit to the plunge. . for that would demand my surrender, giving up the damaging ways i've grown accustomed to, the world's bent is my bent. . humanity's crookedness is my own. I don't need to stay there. . in fact i should not.

my feelings seem to govern me. one moment i feel a wellspring of love within, love for God, love for people. . .

the next i feel removed from this love, deaf to its voice, somehow beyond its reach, yet i'm not really.

my spirit gasps, i fade and faint
so i live in the shallows of myself, afraid of the depth of the sacred, of him.

feeling too shabby for his perfection.

when will i understand his heart? why do i try to humanize him? he's beyond parameters, he bursts them wide open.
i'm learning how to live with him.
relationships are never easy.

some might think that i'm not in my right mind with this talk of God, of sacred. .

some might think i'm weak, in need of a crutch, an opiate, a 'false' system of belief to prop up or medicate myself. .
I know this isn't the case. I can't tell you how i know.

How i can believe in someone invisible, mysterious?
I'm no flake.
I'm not deluded.

I just do.
I have felt within myself the sacred imprint of his spirit on mine.

I have 'heard' within my heart, his voice.
I have felt the power of all that he is, restoring my spirit's wounds.
I am flawed.
I am unworthy, but his willing-to-die love gives me worth, though this does baffle me and does make me feel unable to thank him properly.
tends to make me want to avert my eyes.
too bright, this light.
Still i am drawn by and to this love which is beyond my capacity to understand.
I am drawn.

I have felt and i do feel what it is to be in the presence of someone from whom nothing about me is hidden or covered up. .

from whom i can lay down the burden of the risk of such transparency and not count it as risk, with no guarding --knowing i am safe from rejection and disdain.

How can such absolute acceptance not attract me?
but why do i still shrink back?
i don't understand myself.

I cling to this faith i have and i don't want to let go.

Dawkins would scoff and bandy points, pierce my 'ignorance' expose my irrationality to the world. Hitchens would have a similar field day with my 'pathetic' state.
sacred? what does that even mean if i won't risk knowing what it means?
if i don't feel it, don't see it.
I can't measure it.
There are no pie charts.
No proof.

I do feel it.
I risk it, this intangible, beautiful force hooks my heart and pulls me in.
In to the mystery of the sacred.
In to the love unique. In to life.
In to relationship.
In to the sacred, to stay. . . . . .

to live

brain-off, men v. women

i've always been fascinated by the brain.
i wanted to be a neurosurgeon waaaay back in the day. . . . it wasn't meant to be, though my interest has never waned.
Several years back, Rob and i watched a docu on the human brain. I watched with rapt attention, Rob's eyes often struggled to remain open and he occasionally dozed off. *he does that during documentaries - i guess cuz there aren't any car chases or commercials?* (don't tell him i told you!)

During this documentary they showed thermal imaging scans of two brains. 1 female, 1 male.
The female brain at rest was lit up twice as much as the man's active brain!!! WOOT! I love that moment in medical documentary history. I'll remember it always. Its like a mental trophy i like to take off the shelf, with which to periodically tease Rob *whisper voice - i don't think he likes it!*

Anyway, here are some brainy facts: --taken from "The Female Brain - How It Really Works" in November 07 issue of Canadian Living (abridgements and paraphrasings, my own) This is kind of unusual for me to blog like this. .i'm usually on about my feelings and i don't usually go 'factoid' on you. . but you have to change it up sometimes, eh?!

*the hippocampus (hub of emotion and memory formation) is larger in the female brain. The brain circuitry for language and observing emotions is more highly developed in females.

According to a 2004 Cdn study, a 3 month-old girl 's ability to read facial expressions jumps 400% above that of a boy's. . thanks to the amygdala, hippocampus and insula - which rule memory and gut feelings. Men are guided by testosterone which means they can instantly read anger, threat or extremes like crying, but are less capable of interpreting subtleties.

*females have 11% more neurons governing language and hearing than men do.

*the brain is divided into 2 hemispheres. Males use specialized regions in one side or the other to complete tasks sequentially. Females use both hemispheres equally to complete multiple jobs simulatneously. Females have an 8-lane super highway for processing emotion, males have a small country road. Males have an "O'Hare Intnl Airport" as a hub for processing their thoughts about sex. Women have a small airfield nearby that lands small and private planes.

*intelligence remains the same between the sexes, however there are gender-related variations.

*females possess a great number of 'mirror' neurons, which have been linked to the female's ability to empathize strongly. A British study had researchers adminstering weak & strong electric shocks to female subjects, using MRI to measure the brain's response to pain. Later their male partners received the same treatment. The women were told how strong the men's shocks were. MRI results showed the women's reactions to this knowledge of their partner's pain as strong as if the pain was their own. (i think that's almost mystical if you ask me. .)

*female "talk fests" *men say 'gossiping', women call it 'connecting'* release dopamine (the feel good hormone) and oxytocin (the 'bonding' hormone). A 20-second hug floods the female brain with oxytocin. Oxytocin is released in males through affection and tenderness, but the male brain is more apt to link this to sex.

*the amygdala and hypothalmus in the female brain are 50% smaller than the male brain. (these portions of the brain govern sexual pursuit)

*spatial awareness - testosterone is linked to increased spatial ability - directional tasks , map reading. Female brains navigate using landmarks, women have better visual memory and verbal skills and fine motor coordination.

*aggression - threatening situations ? men react with aggression because their hormones take a short, direct pathway through the brain. Women respond with fear and feelings about protection

*stress - men's heart rate and blood pressure skyrocket, with a strong fight or flight response. women feel the same stresses with the exception of the high-hormone phase of their cycle.. . in stress, women 'tend and befriend'. . become protective or talk through issues with their friends, which releases oxytocin and lowers blood pressure and stress hormone levels - making them less susceptible to hypertension and cardiac disease.

I find these clinical facts interesting but i do think that lists of such things can seem a bit arid. When i'm not annoyed by the differences between me and my husband, i can try to bust my thoughts out of stereotype and appreciate what i don't understand. I think men will always think that women are "a riddle, wrapped in mystery, inside an enigma' and women will always think that men are from Mars. Can't see this changing. No matter how many studies the ubiquitous 'they' do, no matter how many self'-help books promise to guide us through the intricacies of the each other's beings, i think we'll always be on this parallel, yet entwined journey together. . never quite understanding but always intersecting in love, respect and even awe.

life without stories?

who would we be without stories?
has there ever been a time without them?
in the beginning. . .
once upon a time. . . .

act one
scene one
page one
chapter one

someone's always telling a story.
someone's always listening.

and nothing is new under the sun --

love
good
evil
revenge
greed
ruination
temptation
adversity
tragedy
loss
forgiveness
redemption

time is a portal
step through, drop in, go back, advance
you will find yourself no matter where you stop
ancient,
modern,
spoken,
written. . nothing changes
we don't change.
all this telling does not diminish our
infinite appetite for more
new ones are always joining
they need to hear
they need to tell

'the end' is a ruse
there is none.
if the story ends,
we do.

pumpkins

pumpkins in the patch are so cute, i can't describe how happy i feel when i see them lying there in the earth, like they're napping. . adorable. I know this isn't quite 'normal'. . . but what constitutes 'normality' anyway? Nor can i resist gushing over cattle. I love to watch them. They seem so calm. * i don't eat beef, so i really do love them just for the way they look* Their big eyes. In the green fields, chewing slowly, so serene. I like that about them.

i made 2 pumpkin pies today. also roasted some squash with maple syrup and a bit of butter and s&p. . lots of beta carotene - yum.

feeling very thanksgivingy and fallish, despite my puzzlement with this strangely hot weather. I prefer my falls crisp and cool, thanx very much. . i want to wear corduroy. I want to bundle up. I want to walk and have rosy cheeks, see my breath turn to little clouds. I want to smell bonfires.

It is nice though not to turn on the furnace!

These days are fine and golden. So many reasons to have a full heart.

don't phunk with my heart

we listened to "Elephunk" on the way home tonight. We dropped KK off back in the Hammer and we listened to all the tracks on this B.E.P. CD that the ride home allowed. Hours later, now as i comb my hair and my thoughts settle,* maybe i'm combing them out? *
i think of this plea: "Oh no, no, no, don't phunk with my heart."

isn't this what everyone wants to say to everyone else? really. . .

don't hurt me
handle with care
love me