Song of the day: World - Five for Fighting

"Be careful what you wish for...."- Five for Fighting

Welcome 2009!

January 9, 2009 Taking at least a month-long blogging "break"...Hopefully coming back soon with a 30-day recap! I have also disabled comments. This gives me the freedom to visit and comment on as many or as few blogs as I wish...while freeing my readers from feeling obligated to make any comment on mine. You simply will not be able to. This is a labor of love...and this is my story.

I know you are there...and that, my friends, is enough for me.

I have adopted Five for Fighting's "World" as my year's theme song. There was no other choice. It "called" to me...it "calls" to me even now, as the words and the tune continue to keep running through my mind. Caution: If you're not careful, just maybe it will do the same to you... Please listen to the music and the words. (Thank you JOHN ONDRASIK)

"There's more to this than LOVE!"

I'm working on my masterpiece...how about you?

On your mark....get ready!....set!...go!...

"History starts NOW!"

~Love, Nards~

Song of the day: Peace Love and Understanding - Nick Lowe

"What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding?" - Nick Lowe

Tuesday...Wednesday...Thursday...Oh sure, I've got the posts written; but do not feel like formatting them and publishing them yet. I will go back, perhaps next week, clean them up and publish them sometime later. And so... skipping these days, it brings us to:

Friday...
Today is the last day of school for "The Boy" for the season. Winter break begins. He was to take in a bag of chips as his contribution to his class Winter Celebration, but forgot to get them. This meant that his Dad needed to run to Wal-Mart before dropping him off to school. As I write this, I feel as if I am again beginning to tire of this blog. I've been at it for over nine months, have over 220 posts, and am hardly ever at a loss for material and/or subject matter. In fact, sometimes the information comes so fast and furiously, that I can barely capture the ideas quickly enough. The problem? Not sure...but the interest in it is definitely waning. Only a personal pledge to myself and an obligation to continue... at least until a specific date; keeps this thing going...And so, in an effort to regain my momentum, while still keeping a log, I'll not publish any new entries until January, 2009. This will allow time enough for me to go back and publish those entries that I had previously held back, (over 20 or so) do cross references with my private blog, Nardeeisms2, and to do a bit of reformatting, as well, if necessary. And maybe, just maybe...I'll fall in love with blogging again. We'll see...

"As I walk through this wicked world
Searchin for light in the darkness of insanity"

Today went smoothly...without any hitches...That is until evening fell and the night's work had been almost completed. I had half-jokingly said to my sister and my husband that the job was too easy; so easy, in fact, that I had become increasingly suspicious, and in the back of my mind, had often wondered what is it that they would try to do to make it more difficult. This evening, I found out "what". Nothing "earth shattering", but an obviously manufactured psychological crackpot/"crockpot" message, designed and timed to be delivered and marinated in, on a Friday, allowing for a nice, slow weekend simmering stew; and then when fully cooked, ready to be served up piping hot on Monday evening! I have seen this game played far too often. It's like they are trying to play chess, when the game is actually checkers! But let me tell you one thing that I know for sure: The boards may look alike, but the games ain't the same! After the carefully masterminded plan was gleefully revealed to us individually (perhaps in an effort to obtain the fullest impact and shock value possible), I just took a moment away, walked outside; called my husband and sister, told them about it, and came back in to complete my work. Bless their hearts! They are obviously proud of themselves. But as they say in checkers: "Go ahead"..."King Me!"... It's business as usual.

When I came back inside, I sat for a moment and looked at the Christmas card that one of the supervisors had given us. Inside of mine, was a pre-printed cheery message and a broken candy cane, wrapped up in cellophane. I laughed at the symbolism; as it reminded me a lot of myself...broken, but still trying to remain cheery and sweet within a clear package. After I held it for a while, I put the card back into its envelope and tucked it deep down inside my canvass tote bag. I had work to do.

"And as I walked on through troubled times
My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes..."

This also jolted me into realizing this: After working for almost 11 weeks at my current place of employment, in an area that has approximately 80 people...even if I were offered a "million zillion" dollars to remember them outside of the building, and in the light of day, I would be able to recognize only about five of my co-workers if I ran into them in a mall, saw them on the street, or had to identify any of them in a police lineup. There are approximately 22 steps (depending on stride, as well as, where you start counting...give or take a few) from the main inside office door to my seat. How do I know this? I counted them. Every evening, I walk straight from the door, directly to my desk, smile and without seeing any faces, touch a few backs of shoulders in greeting as I pass. I sit near the front with my back facing the majority; hardly ever turning around at any time during the evening. It is an environment where I am in absolutely no possible danger of forming any personal attachments, and where any sense of humanity is quietly extracted with each passing moment; a place where one is silently, but constantly reminded that being there is simply a means to an end. However, even with all of this, I still do not have any real complaints. And, that is the thing that bothers me the most; the speed in which I am adapting to, as well as becoming comfortable with, the feeling of detachment. This is what scares me. It reminds me of that, now familiar, Star Trek phrase, where The Borg says: "Resistance is futile; you will be assimilated."

"So where are the strong? And who are the trusted? And where is the harmony?"

Suddenly, I realize that, if I do not wish to extend this brand of spirit draining, all encompassing and pervasive sense of coldness to my family and friends, I will need to put forth more of an effort to be a kinder, warmer and caring human being. And so, keeping this in mind, I will make it my resolve to try to do more during the upcoming new year to help others, spread joy and happiness, regain a sense of peace for myself; and radiate it outwardly to all of my friends and family.

"Sweet harmony. What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding?"

Wishing the same for you and yours! Signing off until the New Year! ~ Nards

Peace and love to all! "This little light of mine...I'm gonna let it shine...!

Song of the day: Beautiful Things- Leslie Bricusse

"The world is full of beautiful things
Butterfly wings, fairy tale kings"- Leslie Bricusse

Friday..."The Boy" got an A+ on his project...He should have. I or, ahem, he sure worked long and hard enough on it. It is part one of a five-part installment; the final part being due in May for a term grade. The teacher's comments gushed on and on about the neatness of it...etc; He, again, was not fazed one way or the other. I, was well pleased. It really was that good! "The Boy" also had other school work for me to sign that needs to be looked at. Some of it not so good, was hurriedly shoved in front of me, as he offered me a complimentary pen for my immediate signature. Not so quick buddy! This will require a bit of further investigation on my part.

"And each new day undoubtedly brings
Still more beautiful things"

Work still is being done at my brother's new house, and so my husband "house sat" again. Things are really coming together there. Friday, at work? Uneventful. However, I received a HUGE summary of benefits book. It was just unceremoniously plopped down on my desk by one of the supervisors as I was working. The noise it made as it hit the desk startled me! When I came home with it, my husband looked at me and said, "I know that you're going to sit down and read the whole thing." This was no joke. He knows that I am an avid reader, and certainly will do so. Just a quirk of mine. I have also been known to sit down and read the dictionary. Sad, but this too... is also no joke.

Saturday...I cleaned the house up from top to bottom. When I was almost finished, my husband went out for a while. My sister called me laughing and said, "I just heard from your husband!" From what I understand, he called her at home from his cellphone, and told her that I was "on a cleanup mission" and that he was scared. He told her, "She's locking the doors and everything!" My sister then told him that if he were hungry, he'd better bring something home; and whatever he decided, it would be best if he not do any cooking in my now spotlessly clean kitchen. He came home with a box of chicken; which he and "The Boy" carefully ate, while looking out of the sides of their eyes at me. They picked up each crumb as it dropped, and then cleaned up after themselves. I felt kind of bad, and felt a few pangs of guilt... but guess what folks? After all was said and done, I still had a clean kitchen! The rest of the evening went well, as everyone relaxed in freshly cleaned, Pine-Sol scented surroundings. Later...Mom called and asked if we wanted to have dinner at her house on Sunday. We respectfully declined. After cleaning up my own mess at home, I was not ready to face another after dinner cleanup disaster. We took a "rain check", and I hoped that I didn't hurt her feelings. We'll make it up to her soon.

"The world abounds with many delights
Magical sights, fanciful flights"

Sunday... The guys went out to Sunday services, while I remained home, read the newspaper, drank black coffee, and did a few other things. Later, they returned with a couple of movies and settled in for the evening, while I cooked a pork roast and an apple pie. I also had a few marketing articles due for publication, and so I churned them out after suffering a minor "writer's block" setback. I also have two more other projects due before Wednesday, but feel lacking in motivation and inspiration, and so will take another stab at them on Monday. People tend to like what I do, and so I try to offer my best work. This is what makes it difficult.

"Our lives tick by like pendulum swings
Delicate things, butterfly wings"

On this beautiful Sunday night, I have decided to stay up and watch marathon episodes of the "House" series. I have tried not to, but I absolutely love this show and the crotchety Hugh Laurie character. This is the way that I will drift off to sleep. Not even going to bother putting the electronic sleep timer on...I already have a living one. No worries. During the night, my husband will turn over occasionally and ask me, "You still looking at this?" When I wake up in the morning, and the television is off, this will mean that he got his answer.

Happy Sunday and sweet dreams everyone!

"Beautiful nights of moon-kissed hours
Beautiful dreams like these..."

Song of the day: Impossible - Rodgers and Hammerstein

"But the world is full of "zanies" and "fools"
Who don't believe in "sensible" rules" - Rodgers and Hammerstein

Wednesday...The Diversity dinner at work went off, without a hitch...just as they had planned. It was well....diverse. Good. Good for them...

This was also the day for a select few of my former workmates to get together for an annual "Survivor's" luncheon. From my laptop, I watched the emails go by, as acceptances, regrets and good wishes were electronically passed back and forth. Although I did not attend, I certainly hope that everyone had a great time.

Thursday...Today, it poured rain all day long. Still doing it...Although the temperature is unseasonably warm, it is a sloppy, nasty, rain. As sure as luck would have it, it also happens to be trash pick-up day, but I did not feel like gathering it up around the house and then rolling it down the hill in the rain. I also do not feel like hearing complaints from "The Boy" about bringing it back up the hill again this afternoon. It will just have to wait until next Thursday. Because we are regular recyclers... we don't end up having a lot of garbage anyway.

Tomorrow is the deadline for "The Boy's" school project, and "The Boy" trotted off to school without even so much as an inkling as to how he planned to complete his project. I put the thing together myself, while his Dad was out babysitting my brother's new house. My brother and his wife have an electrician, as well as delivery of their brand new furniture and appliances scheduled for today. However, both of them have to work. And so, my husband volunteered to supervise things. He's a good one for it; as he is meticulous and will let nothing "slide by." I am more than qualified to say it. I know the man.

After school, I picked up "The Boy" and we headed to the library to gather more information and to complete "his" project. Afterwards, when I arrived at the new house, with "The Boy" in the pouring rain, I gazed around and my jaw nearly "hit the ground"...This place looked like it had been furnished by someone who had won both showcases on "The Price Is Right". Given the country's current economic condition, and although this is not the way my husband and I would have done it, we respect what my brother and his wife are doing, and do not offer any unsolicited advice. We are only around to lend a hand. And so, I yank my jaw back up.

"And won't believe what "sensible" people say"

This is their first house, and they are excited! Our only role is to share in their joy, and we do. It is a wonderful, solidly built house...just perfect for the two of them! I hung around my brother's new house with my husband and "The Boy", until it became dangerously close to my needing to leave for work. When the time came, I left "The Boy" with his Dad, then took the quick three-minute (I timed it) drive alone; back to my house, ran upstairs and took a "Cinderella" shower...one of the a la Disney variety. (Remember, in the beginning of Disney's "Cinderella", where she pops out of bed, runs to the shower, and two little bluebirds squeeze a spongeful of water over her head (around minute 2:30 in the video link)...and in less than three seconds she is "outta there?" Yep, it was like that.) After showering, I quickly got dressed, and left home around 4:20pm; arriving at work 4:56pm. Now, that was some driving!

"And because these "daft and dewey-eyed dopes" keep building up impossible hopes, Impossible things are happening every day"

I had the usual uneventful evening at work, with the added bonus of the evening ending before 10:00pm. Prior to leaving, it was mentioned that we each had to complete a company required, online Diversity training course before the end of the month, and that if anyone wanted to do so, they could stay. Although I would just love to do so...Not me. Not tonight. Not anyone, for that matter! This was a rare early night, and a Thursday to boot! Everyone is tired, and so we cleared out of there....even quicker than roaches would at an Insecticide Convention! Besides, it is pouring rain outside. We all want to get home! I will do it tomorrow evening when I get in...first thing. But for right now, I am in "Survivor Mode".

I get home safely and everything is fine. This is also the time of year(different years, but around the same time) when my maternal grandmother and favorite Aunt died. I have never said it aloud, and for the first time I will acknowledge it here: I absolutely hate December. December, for me...has no "gray" area, but is filled to the brim with extremes...too many extremes...Extreme joys along with extreme sadnesses...In one moment: sublime,...while in the "Valley of the Shadows", the next. The reasons for my intense lack of affection for the month are so many, that it would be difficult for me to even begin to list them! Trillions of thoughts are going through my mind...Regrets over things I should have done...Things I didn't do...Things I have yet to do...and, wondering if there is still enough time left in my lifetime, to at least "fix" some of it. However, I will entertain none of those thoughts in any detail tonight. It is an unseasonably warm and rainy night...On this warm December night, I am thinking: What if, for some reason, God offered me a "Do-Over-Starting-From-This-Point-Forward" date? Knowing what I know now...what date would I choose? Although the variables are many, and the risks would be enormous, I feel as if I already know. It would be: early June 1972. A most perfect and neutral, blank page, of a "Do Over" date and time.

Let's just see what tomorrow will bring!...

"Impossible things are happening every day.."

I remember this song and this movie from when I was a little girl. This version...with Celeste Holm. The year? 1965.

Then...I was just a small, happy, wide-eyed, ashy legged, black child; sitting cross-legged in front of a large black and white Motorola console television. A small and happy black child with a dream. The year now? Late 2008. And although not quite as small or ashy, I still am just as wide-eyed, and I still have a dream...In fact, I have a couple of 'em...

Song of the day: Everyday People - Sly and the Family Stone

"Sometimes I'm right and I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my song- Sly and the Family Stone"

Monday night at work...

'twas a long, long night. We got off work at 12:45am. As we were leaving, the supervisor said, "Goodnight!" to us, then turned around, looked at the clock and then revised it to a cheery: "Top of the mornin' everyone!" As the tired and the weary filed out of the door, it was clear that this was not funny to them. However, this did not faze me one way or the other; as I had just enjoyed a wonderful long beach weekend, and had woken up earlier in the day to the cry of seagulls, while facing a beautiful ocean sunrise. In this state of continued bliss, I had been sustained throughout the night. I am still in this place of gratitude... and wish that this same kind of peace of mind be granted to everyone.

"The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then
Makes no difference what group I'm in"

Tuesday...
My husband had mentioned to me earlier that he was going to start eating healthier in the mornings. So, in an effort to do so, he bought a cannister of plain regular oatmeal for himself, and a box of individually wrapped strawberry flavored oatmeal packets for "The Boy". They can help themselves...I can't stand oatmeal! This means: If breakfast is going to be the thing that kills me, well then I'm just gonna die with two strips of bacon dangling from my lips; and a double latte caffeine "chaser!" on the side. "The Boy" doesn't like oatmeal either...However, he is nine years old and I am fifty. He will be eating oatmeal. I will not.

"And different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and scooby dooby doo-bee
Oh sha sha - we got to live together"

And so, this morning "The Boy" gets up and comes downstairs. Dressed in his midnight blue velour bathrobe, he sees that strawberries and cream oatmeal is on the breakfast menu for him. There it sits along with his hot chocolate and yogurt...hot, steaming, ready,(and unwanted)...just waiting for him on the kitchen breakfast bar. He stops, tightens the knot on his robe sash...then stares at it for a while. His face begins to contort. Here in the South, we have a saying: "He was peeyussed!" Soon, this face takes on additional characteristics; and very shortly thereafter, begins to resemble that of one who is severely constipated. (One plus: If this is indeed the case; oatmeal certainly can take care of this condition) His Dad, upon seeing him, seizes this opportunity to talk to him about thankfulness and gratitude. The talk begins to suspiciously sound like a sermon. So much so, that "The Boy" listens to him for a while, then asks: "Did Jesus have to eat oatmeal?" At this particular point, there is no need to go through any more of this conversation with you, the reader. We all know how it ends: He eats the oatmeal, gets dressed and happily trots off to school... and we all live happily ever after. The End. (Ha!)

Speaking of school..."The Boy" has part one of a school project due on Friday. However, he has shown little to no interest in this. Most of today, I spent gathering information for him. What I have come up with, can best be described as a "project kit". However, he will have to put all of the elements together. Memories of past projects begin to drift through my mind, and I start to realize that this one will be no different. And although I hate to say it, I must face the fact that it is beginning to look like the project is actually mine. I do not have the time to help him very much after school; as I leave for work shortly after he comes home, and so I have to do what I can. Somewhere down the line, I will have to find a balance. But for now, I have to do whatever works for me...whatever works for us. My husband has a good suggestion: Let him struggle with it for a while, then have all of the stuff that I have done "waiting in the wings" for a last minute rescue, if needed. We'll see.

Went to work later on this afternoon. During the evening, the supervisor came around with a bag of candy. For some reason, I begin to remember my Greek mythology readings and Persephone comes to mind. As the story goes: Girlfriend ate only six pomegranate seeds and ended up in hell for the rest of the winter. Replace the name, Persephone, with mine; and pomegranate seeds with tootsie rolls and....you see where I'm going with this one, don't you?

I decide to pass on the candy.

"You love me you hate me you know me and then
You can't figure out the bag I'm in"

There is also a departmental Diversity dinner scheduled for tomorrow at 6:30pm. Based on my few months with this particular department,...I find the whole concept...well, interesting (to say the least). That's all I'll say. The parent company has so graciously offered to provide the ham and turkey (In the true spirit of generosity, I'm sure it is an All-you-can-eat for the Muslims and vegans among us). Everyone else is to provide food from either their native lands and/or cultures. I hail from the not-too-distant land of Pepperidge Farms, and will have to pick up something to take in with me on the way in tomorrow evening.

I also had the opportunity to take a gander at my future next paycheck online. Just so happens: I got a pleasant surprise...It will be better than I thought it would be. Not a huge windfall (Let's not get crazy), but more or less, a kind of "romantic-evening-out-at-McDonald's-for-four" amount. After an even closer examination, I remember that Healthcare premiums are deducted pre-tax, and so this will make a few dollars, or so difference. Good. I am thankful with "whatever".

All in all, the evening went well and we got out before 10:30pm (Sure beats the previous evening). I'm laughing at myself as I re-read all of this (as well as between the lines). Life sure is interesting...Oh, the stories I'll be able to tell later on...and Oh, the stories I wish I could tell you now!

"I am everyday people, yeah yeah..." Sing it with me people!

Song of the day: Hazy Shade of Winter - Simon and Garfunkel

"Hang on to your hopes my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again" - Simon and Garfunkel

Monday morning... 6:45am

Sunrise at the beach with my sister...

She and I started out last night together...sleeping in the big king sized bed. Later on, because of my snoring, she had to leave; and relocated to the sofa bed.(Ha! Ha!)

Going home in a few hours. Going to see my guys. Going to work later on this evening...but not going crazy. This weekend was great!

See this picture? That's what I'm talking about! This is how I would like to remember it: Standing on a balcony alone in my pajamas on a cold December morning!

"And the sky?
It's a hazy shade of winter..."


Yep! Sure was nice...Gotta go pack...Goin' home!

Song of the day: On Time God - Dottie Peeples

"(He's an on time God, yes, He is).
Oh, on time God, yes, He is. - Dottie Peeples"

How best to describe yesterday? A real "soul less" morning. I breathed. I ate. I existed. I was more or less...just a consumer of resources, natural and man-made, producing no appreciable output. However, (thank goodness) I became more animated and of at least some value and use to humanity, as the day progressed.

Last night at work: On my way to break, I reached down into my canvass bag and disappointedly realized that I had left my "Coastal Living" (April 2008) magazine at home. And so, to pass the time, I decided to take an extra-long walk down the hall, to the deserted cafeteria... just to spend some time alone, gather my thoughts and to absorb the quiet. Good, the cafeteria is empty. Within five minutes, a tall, boisterous woman arrives, talking loudly on a cellphone. The building we work in is huge! Out of all the empty spaces available, why in the world did she have to choose this place? She takes a quick look at me. For some reason, looking at me is an apparent "go ahead" for her to become even louder. I begin muttering under my breath: "No, I do not care if you "spent half the evenin' decoratin' the chutch for Chrissmus!" "No, I do not care if LaPumpkinisha and her kids: Zucchini, Sweetpea, and Cornbread; didn't do nothin' to help!" "No, I do not care whether Reb'n Jones is gonna preach the sermon on Sunday...or not!" I give up! She wins! I promptly gather my things, leave the cafeteria, and find a deserted office area. Outfitted with a loveseat and two side chairs; each piece of furniture is tagged and dated for being moved... on a future date. This is perfect!

I make myself comfortable on the loveseat and then call home to see what my guys are doing. My husband and I quietly chat for a while, then he offers to put "The Boy" on the phone. I speak to him for a bit, but it is obvious that the child is preoccupied...His short and silly answers to my questions are a dead giveaway. He soon hands the phone back to his father, while saying the words, "Hey Dad, it's your wife on the phone!" This makes me laugh and provides me with a chuckle to last throughout the rest of the evening; which by the way ends promptly at 10:12pm. For the first time in weeks, I am the first one to leave. This time, I did not get "stuck" with the remainder of the work. I leave quickly...so quickly, in fact, that I could have led any casual onlooker to have believed that the room was on fire! I was "outta there!"

The usual "Have Hope" marquee message on the church that I pass on the way to and from work, has again been changed. On my way in, I notice that it currently advertises a free "Labyrinth Walk" from 6:00pm - 8:00pm (I've always wanted to do one of those things,... but not at a church). On my way back home from work, I notice that the message has been changed yet again... It says: "Hope Is Rising". I have waited two days before posting this...just wanted to make sure that the message was a constant one. For me, on a daily basis, this is indeed becoming true. And this three word, less than two-second, visual sermon gets the "nod" from me!

For this "congregation of one", and for reasons that I am afraid to utter out loud: Hope is indeed rising.

And, although quite unrelated to the "Hope" mentioned above, tomorrow I get to go to the beach for a long weekend alone with my sister. We call this type of weekend a "rotic" weekend (Ro-man-tic weekend...without the man) For some time now, I have literally prayed for an opportunity such as this one to come along. And, although I do not have it from my son, I do have the reluctant "blessing" of my husband. This will make my leaving them...a bit easier. I am so excited, that I can hardly wait!

"He may not come when you want Him,
(but He'll) be there right on time;
(I tell ya He's an) on time God, yes, He is!"

This "congregation of one" says: Amen! Here's some "church" y'all...

Have a good weekend everyone!

Song of the day: Did You Ever See A Dream Walking? - Bing Crosby

"Something very strange and mystic happened to me
Something realistic and as weird as can be
Something that I feared somehow is now endeared to me
What a funny feeling…odd, and yet so true
Did a thing like this ever happen to you?...- Harry Revel/ Mack Gordon"

My, oh my...It is Thursday already! This past week has already become such a blur! This is one of the primary reasons why I try to log something every day; as I have forgotten many things already. Let's see, the highlights:

Monday morning, December 1, I realized that our family insurance coverage provided by my place of employment finally "kicked in". We received the wallet-sized insurance cards a few weeks ago...now they are activated. "M", my fellow co-worker and I both breathed a sigh of relief. We are finally "official", and are no longer in a state of "health care limbo". She and I both shared stories about how we lay in bed late Sunday night, waiting for one minute after midnight...waiting for November 30 to magically turn into December 1. Mercifully, it finally did...One problem at least, over and behind us; one problem resolved; one huge hurdle overcome for both our families. We did it. Both of us with "full houses" of husbands and children, played the game of "Healthcare Poker"... and won.

Tuesday?...I really can't remember...any of it. (This is sad)

Wednesday, I did not do much in the way of anything hugely constructive. Dad had his appointment with the doctor. They did not need for me to take him, as both Mom's schedule(and mind) were clear enough for them to address Dad's radiology treatment appointment, and drive themselves. However, I will be here when and if, they ever need me. Wednesday night: I have made another "book-on-tape" disciple, with my fellow co-worker "M". I turned her on to the joy of it all. She tells me that she does not know how she ever survived without it, and has thanked me profusely! I have lost my new friend of nearly eight weeks to "Memoirs of a Geisha". On occasion, we will make cross-eyed, funny faces at each other across the room, but hardly ever speak any more...not since I have shown her the way to "escape".

"Did you ever hear a dream talking? Well, I did..."

Last night, for some unknown reason, I decided to switch my reading (listening) materials, and started another "book-on-tape"(CD) "Message in A Bottle". (I have the ability to alternate books, and read several simultaneously, while not losing my place in any of them) The setting: Wilmington, NC.

"Did you ever have a dream thrill you...with "Will you be mine?"

I listen intently, while looking at my computer screen. Within moments, the documents that I am working on are all Wilmington, NC documents. Later, when I go on break, I pull out a magazine that highlights coastal living (This all happens within an hour and a half). In this particular issue, there is a beach cottage featured. It is a two-bedroom cottage house plan, that I have been looking at every single night for nearly three weeks now. In this same magazine, there is also a travel article about Wilmington, NC, that I had never noticed before. I first saw this magazine, back in November; in a hospital waiting room, while waiting to see my father. It called to me from a place across the room; then stayed with me in a place within my heart. I decided to take it home with me...just to borrow. Every night since I stole (borrowed?) the magazine from the hospital waiting room, I look at the picture. Looking back at my previous blog entries, I pinpoint the date of my "borrowing" this magazine, as being on Friday, November 14. This means that I have been lusting after this coastal dwelling for at least three weeks.

It is a two bedroom cottage, designed to be built by the sea. Actually, the definition is described as "inlet cottage". I come home and ask my husband if I am, in some way, subconciously trying to manipulate events in my mind, in an effort to try to make them work. He tells me that he does not know. I have shown him this house in the past, and he has appeared to be unmoved and unfazed. He says that, while the house is nice; there are not enough bedrooms...where will the guests sleep?...etc;...I become slightly annoyed...but soon it hits me like a ton of bricks: This is not his fault. He is totally unable to see my vision, because this is not his dream. This dream is mine.

"Oh it's so grand...and it's too, too divine"

And so, this morning, I visit a fellow blogger's site, where she mentions "Wilmington" (not sure if it is Delaware or North Carolina...I'll have to ask her) and then I go back to the book, "Coastal Living", April 2008 issue; and find the page (page 46), and the house. There is not a direct webpage link to it, so I go to the webpage, enter in the approximate dimensions of the house, and very shortly, I see the house of my dreams. Although I will be more than willing to share my dream with loved ones and friends, my dream is my own and is not attached to anyone else's. However, the magazine is not mine. I will need to return it soon...;back to its place in the hospital waiting room, where perhaps, it will start a spark, to light up someone else's dream. I want this house.

"Well, the dream that was walkin' and the dream that was talkin'..."

And soon I declare: One day I will have this house. This house is mine.

"...and the heaven in my arms was you..."


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PS...My sister just sent me this. It took a while for me to "get it", but I think it is worth sharing...

One day God was looking down at Earth and saw all of the rascally behavior that was going on. So he called one of His angels and sent the angel to Earth for a time. When he returned, he told God, 'Yes, it is bad on Earth; 95% are misbehaving and only 5% are not.

God thought for a moment and said, 'Maybe I had better send down a second angel to get another opinion.'

So God called another angel and sent him to Earth for a time.

When the angel returned he went to God and said, 'Yes, it's true.The Earth is in decline; 95% are misbehaving, but 5% are being good.'

God was not pleased. So He decided to e-mail the 5% that were good, because he wanted to encourage them, and give them a little something to help them keep going.

Do you know what the e-mail said?

Okay, I was just wondering, because I didn't get one either.

Have a good day!

Song of the day: The Prayer- Part II David Foster and Carol Bayer Sager

Monday, December 1, 2008 - The Prayer - part I
"Let this be our prayer, when we lose our way"

Dedicated to Anna Sellers

...Now, it is beginning to feel even colder outside, and the clouds have started whipping up into some strange kind of formation that I am unable to identify. If "The Boy" were standing beside me, he would be able to tell me what kinds of clouds they are. He is a cloud expert. Because he likes the official sounding way that the word "cumulonimbus" rolls off of his tongue, I suspect that he most likely would expertly confirm that this is what they are. I smile at the thought of him saying it. Meanwhile, Mom remains in the car, and I am still standing alone at the bus stop, wriggling my toes in my semi-famous shoes, while praying that the bus comes soon. It does. I see it as it turns the corner. I signal for Mom to get out of the car. I kiss her goodbye as she boards the bus, wait to see it pull away from the curb; get into my car...then proceed to the library, to get more "books-on-tape"(CD), and later, to pick up "The Boy" from school...

My husband has made a pot of chicken curry. This is what we eat when we come home. It tastes absolutely fabulous! I leave for work a bit later, and when I get there, I put in the first CD of my "book-on-tape". I have chosen to listen to "To Kill A Mockingbird". By the time I finish listening to CD 2 of 11, I decide to put off listening to it for another time. It's not that I am not enjoying it. Sissy Spacek does a most wonderful narration. It's just that I need something more “unbelievable”; something that is outside of the realm of possibility. This way, if the storyline becomes too difficult to handle, I can always reason with myself by saying: “This could never happen”. I reach back into my canvass tote bag and choose a story written by “my man" Dean Koontz. His stories usually start out "normal", then always end up being way, way "out there!" Now, I am set.

The night passes quickly and soon, I am home. My husband tries to wait up for me, but when I get home, I find that he is suspended somewhere between Letterman and "La La Land". This is fine. Actually, I wouldn't mind being there myself. I walk into “The Boy’s” room and find that it is suspiciously neat. I ask my husband about it. He groggily tells me that this child has cleaned up his room on his own. Although, I am proud of him, I know that somewhere down the line, this is gonna cost us. It is just a matter of time and price. But, for now, I’ll just fall into bed and call it a happy ending to a successful day. Goodnight.

"Lead us to the place, guide us with your grace
To a place where we'll be safe..."

Song of the day: The Prayer- Part I David Foster and Carol Bayer Sager

"I pray you'll be our eyes, and watch us where we go. And help us to be wise in times when we don't know"- David Foster and Carol Bayer Sager

Dedicated to Anna Sellers

This morning, Dad had an appointment to have blood work done. This was one of the conditions of his release from the hospital last Wednesday. I had spoken to my sister this morning, who gave me a list of things to ask about, things to make sure of, etc;. She is a thorough person, and has been a steady and dependable "rock" for Mom and Dad throughout all of this. Mom has a dental appointment downtown later on and prefers to ride the bus, due to parking issues. She gets a bit flustered at times. She has not complained, but she can not be all places at once. This one is easy... I offer to take Dad to his appointment. Truth is: I should have volunteered earlier.

This loads one more brick onto my already "sky high" pile of well-deserved guilt. (This also means I am just two bricks shy of what is required to erect a small cottage; complete with patio.) I need to be more conscientious...like my sister. On the way, I need to stop by an ATM. I have no real cash in my purse...just a few coins rolling around with the lint in the bottom of it. "Something" tells me not to go to the ATM; at first quietly, and then a bit louder. I telepathically try to reason with "Something" that I have no money. "Something" also asks me if I really need to stop. I realize that I do not, relent to my inner intuition, and do not stop. Sometimes it is good to follow instincts. No, I take that back…for me… all of the time. Whatever it is, and for whatever the reason, I feel as if I am getting more and more in tune with …with… Well, you know.

I get to Mom and Dad's house on time and find that Dad is ready to be taken to his 10:30am appointment. We arrive at the doctor’s office around 10:26am. Within moments of arrival, the technician draws his blood. (I believe that they are called phlebotomists now) The whole thing is over in a matter of minutes. I speak to the receptionist and secure an additional appointment for him to see his doctor on Wednesday. I have her to make out two appointment cards… one for Dad, and one for me. When we get back home to Mom and Dad's, I find Mom getting dressed and ready to go to the bus stop. We check the schedule...the bus leaves a little after noon. She only has a few more minutes left, before she will need to be at the corner. The bus stop is approximately two blocks away from the house. While Mom gets ready, Dad and I talk. He reaches into his wallet and hands me a twenty dollar bill. I try to refuse it, but he insists. I eventually thank him and take it. I do not have to stop by an ATM, after all. I also whisper a quiet "thank you" into the air.

It is almost time for Mom's bus. I tell her that I will drive her to the corner and wait for it with her. We get to the corner and I tell her to stay inside of the car. It is cold outside. I will stand and wait for it for her. When I see the bus turn the corner, then she can get out of the car. She reluctantly agrees, and I stand and wait. Casually adorned in jeans and a dark blue windbreaker jacket, standing on the corner in the biting cold and wind, I feel like a chocolate popsicle, dressed in a blue wrapper. I have my hood pulled down over my head. In the meantime, cars go by...not one woman in any of them. Mostly younger men. With this hood over my head, it is difficult for them to determine my age, and so many of them slow down to try to take a look at my face. I will admit that, although I’m fairly nice looking, once they see my face and realize that I'm not some "sweet young thing", they hurriedly speed off. Those who dare to linger are treated to my "you-really-don't-want-to-mess-with-me" face. I have been told that I can produce one of the best of its kind...and so they linger no more. Besides,... I've got my Mama in the car, so there!

Standing on a corner, waiting on a bus gives one a lot of time to think. On this same spot, is where I used to stand daily, and wait for the bus almost thirty years ago. Yes, it has been at least 26 years since I've stood on this corner. I breathe out, and try to make little white cloud circlets with my breath. In my mind, I have been transported back to a time when I was younger. It also just so happens, that I am standing on a crack in the sidewalk. As soon as the "younger me" realizes that she is standing on a crack, an old poem comes to mind. Instinctively, she steps away from it and looks back at her mother, still sitting in the car. Mom appears to be fine. Thank Goodness! Her back isn't broken. I can still see her little gray-haired head, as she sits upright and bundled up, in the passenger seat of my car. At that moment, the "younger me" is immediately jolted back into present time. It is again December 1, 2008 and I am 50...and one half years old. (Remember how important "1/2" was when you were four?)

I then begin to look down at my shoes. My shoes. Oh, the shoes. These athletic shoes were given to me, and had once been the property of a person whose name graces schools and buildings throughout the country, as well as popular products used by just about everyone today. I also remember once having been given a jacket with the family name monogrammed on it. Most people seeing me wear it would immediately have thought that I bought it from a store that made products bearing the same famous name. They would never have in a million years guessed that the jacket belonged to the actual man himself! I knew this man personally. Our family knew this man personally. When "The Boy" was born, he gave him this HUGE Winnie-the-Pooh stuffed toy. He has since left this earth, but he was a kind and gentle soul; who never allowed his wealth, power, or position to influence how he treated people. Wearing his shoes, makes me feel that I am part of some great and wonderful secret. I have, quite literally, walked more than "a mile" in these shoes. There is a story in all of this, but it is not mine to tell; and even if it were, I am almost certain that I would not be the one to tell it.

The Prayer - Part II