I’m sitting here in the office this morning listening to Karen work and I have that feeling, but I’ll get to that later.  Earlier I was perusing Facebook… reading news, seeing what my peeps are up to, checking in.  I know a lot of people are sort of Anti-Facebook now, but not me.  I could care less about the ads, I don’t generally even look at them, the commercialism, because of course it is, it’s a business, or the fact that they have my info, everyone has my info nowadays.  I use credit cards, I buy things, I sign into and out of websites all the time.  It’s the modern digital age and as much as I care about my privacy, or at least not letting people have access to my credit card info, the feeling of needing to be so private lessened a lot when I was in the hospital for those long long days and everyone saw everything I had.  Perspective.  Facebook to me, especially since the move, is a way to know, by looking in one place, what our friends and family are up to near and far.  It’s a way to stay in touch.  It’s not perfect, but it works for me.  It’s like being in a big digital ongoing conversation.  A community of sorts. I like that.

I respect my family and friends who are so passionate about world affairs, causes they hold dear, politics, etc.  I respect them immensely.  I have issues I also care about, though I think not with the kind of passion they exhibit.  I admire the chutzpah in them.  Sometimes I even wish I had more of it.  Some days, like today, I wonder why I don’t.  I have things I believe in, and will talk about if I’m in that kind of conversation, but most of the time I keep things to myself.  And most of the time I’m more concerned with things like beauty, joy, art, telling stories, music, and love.  It’s true.  These things consume my day, my mind, more than anything else.  Except for maybe my honey and our pups, but then that’s all about love, which is one of the things I care most about.  I have always been this way, and yet… not.

I fell into a degree in Psychology because I was good at it.  I have always been, for friends and family alike, a sort of pseudo counselor.  Additionally I was fascinated by the mind.  How it worked, both physically and emotionally, and why.  I was interested in motivation, understanding, function.  I was also, and continue to be, an incredibly emotional person.  I cry at the drop of the hat, feel things more deeply than I sometimes want to, and have a sense about the emotions of others that at times overwhelms me.  All of this, plus a passion for at risk kids and their issues, led me into work with those kids.  I did that for a long time, cared deeply about what I was doing, and felt like I was making a difference every day.  I was.  I know that with certainty.  But living every day caring very much about what you are doing, wanting to help to facilitate change in both the kids and their circumstances, feeling and battling an overwhelming sense of hopelessness in those same kids, their parents, other agencies, and the circuitous nature of generations of people living difficult lives took its toll on me.  I cared very much and that sense of caring was what finally guided my decision to leave that profession.  Circumstances helped me do it more quickly than I had anticipated, but the writing had been on the wall.  I needed to not live in that world any more.  To not take it home with me.  To be in a more positive environment.  I needed to leave.

Two years ago when the bomb dropped on our lives, and I say our because it didn’t only affect me, we were living our lives.  Loving our lives.  Traveling, working, spending time with friends and family, having as many adventures and new experiences as we could.  Dinners with friends, traveling to new places, walks with the pups, etc.  Our life was amazing.  Then the thing happened.  The big C.  Suddenly, without warning, swooping in to change our lives completely.  Days with friends and family and pups replaced by meds, and IVs, and poisonous life saving drugs, and sickness, and baldness, and…  love.  So much love pouring in to us, to me, that I was overwhelmed by it.  So much.  It was like a tidal wave of well wishes and good feelings and sweet remembrances and karmic hugging.  I was stunned by it.  Knowing you have a good foundation of people in your life is one thing, seeing them, seeing that in action, is another.  I was humbled, shaken, amazed.

We made it through those times, which I can’t even describe…. so much happened, so much.  And I came out of it, away from it, am still in the end of it, with a sense of wonder.  A sense of what is truly important, for me anyway.  And here’s what I think… people need to spend more time thinking about love.  Not love as in romantic love, but love as in love of your fellow-man, love of this planet we call home, love of people we don’t understand, but should at least try to.  There’s too much push and pull, too much righteous indignation, too much of this whole idea that “I” know best and “you” should listen.  Too much arrogance.  Too much of people being afraid of things they don’t understand when really if we just live our lives the best we know how, treating people in our lives with the respect they deserve, and by that I mean all people, we would be so much better off.  Even those we know are struggling or living their lives in ways we don’t think are right or correct or healthy.  If we respect each other as human beings, knowing there are faults in all of us, knowing we are none of us perfect, and then move through life with the knowledge that, for the most part each of us is doing the best we know how, things would improve.  If we focused on beauty, and love, and how similar we are instead of how different we make ourselves, things would improve.

I know there are people who say this is me living with my head in the clouds, but seriously.  We are all the same.  Living our lives, loving our families, wanting what’s best for them.  We may have different ideas about what that is, or what that means, but that’s OK.  Just the simple acknowledgement that we are the same would mean then that we would never be able to judge someone for how they lived, for what they thought.  We would come at the conversation from a place of trying to understand instead of trying to conquer.  We would be more able to work together.  From a place like that no one would be denied basic rights, their humanity, their ability to live a happy life, whatever that is for them.  Judgement would vanish.  And with it fear would go.  Fear that always comes from a place of us vs. them, from not understanding, from living our lives looking at “them” over there as our enemy instead of as our possible friend.  More than that, because we aren’t going to be friends with everyone, we could agree that we won’t always agree.  And that’s OK.  It’s OK for us to do as we please.  And yes, of course I don’t mean those that hurt others.  There are still rules.  Rule one, don’t hurt anyone intentionally or even unintentionally by the actions you take.

So, this is all Pollyanna to many people I’m sure.  But I’m tired of the fighting, the push and pull, the politics of it all.  I’m tired of all the ways we try to stand out, live separately.  We live together, whether we like it or not.  We depend on each other, whether we like it or not, and we can choose to be afraid of each other, of all the things we don’t understand, or we can hold out our hands to those we disagree with, have a real conversation, and move forward.  Actually take steps that lead us toward something wonderful, instead of taking steps backward to places we’ve already been.

I don’t have the answers, I don’t even pretend to know all the questions.  I know me, my honey, my life.  I know that the way the wind sounds in the trees right now is gorgeous and that sound is the same all around the world.  I know I love to laugh, and so does everyone else I’ve ever met.  I know a lot of people are angry about this or that, and they have a right to be.  I’m not discounting that.  I’m just saying… love a little more.  Hug a little more.  Put yourself in the other guys shoes a lot more.  Be kind.  Be patient.  Be better.  We could all be a bit better.  Which, I guess, is the feeling I was talking about earlier.  That feeling of wanting to be better.  Look past myself.  See into things more clearly, with more depth.  To be understanding. To love with all I am, and be thankful.

When I was a girl we lived on a piece of property.  It wasn’t major acreage or anything, just a big lot in town.  Small town.  We had a huge garden, a small orchard, a couple of big grass fields, and a fort built for us by our parents that looked like something from the old west frontier.  It was a good place to be a kid.  Lots of room to roam not too far from home.

My brother had a cool bedroom closet.  It had a window in it that led out onto the roof.  Plus the closet itself was enormous.  Big enough to use as an indoor fort.  We did.  We also, occasionally, climbed out onto the roof, made our way down to the carport, walked carefully across the carport, and jumped down into the garden.  From there we could wander around, having snuck out, all over the place.  We never left the property.  We were, for the most part, “good” kids.  Boringly so.  There were times, however, that my brother, who was going through a tumultuous time then, would sneak out and run away.  He did this a few times.  Packed up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or at least some bread, put it in a knapsack, and ventured out into the fields on his own.  When this happened I usually knew it not too long after he’d gone.  And, being the big sister, I always went after him.  I always found him.  I always brought him back home.

Kev and I have a special bond.  We’ve been through a lot together he and I.  No one else has our experience except, of course, us.  We two went through divorce, re-marriages, visitations with our dad and his new family in far off Montana, getting to know our little half brothers and sisters, spending time with our older step brother and sisters, Mom’s ordeal with and defeat of breast cancer, the death of our step-dad followed not too distantly by the death of our father who, on his deathbed, apologized to us for the dad he wasn’t and wished he’d been.  Kev and I have always been comrades in arms.  Peas in a pod.  Best buds as well as brother and sister.  We get each other.

I have felt, through the years, like an anchor to him, as he has been, without probably knowing it, to me.  When things have gone wrong or been hard, I want to see Kev.  He wants to see me.  We have clung to each other in times that have sometimes taken the wind from us.  Holding on tight, facing the storm.  Life has been a big adventure for us to this point.  Each of us has had our struggles, our triumphs, our journey.  And each of us has always had the other to lean on, be supported by, to hug.

I can’t imagine this life without my big little brother.  If there’s something I’ve learned, and keep learning, the big lesson I guess, this is it… let the people you love know you love them.  Don’t wait.  Don’t hesitate.  Don’t.  If you think of them, or see them, or miss them, tell them so.  So Kev…  I thought of you today.  You mean more to me than I am able to articulate.  You are one of the best men I know… strong, caring, sweet, honest, true, loyal, gentle, smart, creative, funny, sincere.  You are a fantastic human being.  And as much as I have been secure, and grounding, and safe for you, know you have been all those things for me.  I love you and I miss your mug.

Reblogged from Margaret and Helen:

• 

HELEN:

Margaret, do you remember how angry we were the day we finally realized that women’s legs are not harder to shave than men’s faces, but rather razors made for women can’t hold a candle to those made for men? And the women’s razors are more expensive to boot. I’d like to meet the asshats at Gillette and give them a piece of my mind.

Read more… 1,460 more words

Margaret and Helen have it all figured out...

There’s something about these mornings… everything still.  I love this time.

I have always been a person who likes my quiet alone time.  No input, no talking, no one around.  When I lived alone I could spend entire weekends just staying in my apartment, hibernating, reading, watching TV, surfing the net.  I never felt alone or sad that I was.  I enjoyed it.  I had a busy life so getting those weekends to myself once in a while was a lovely thing.  Living in my head and my heart.  Regenerating my soul.

I still love time to myself.  I don’t get whole weekends anymore, and you won’t hear me complaining about it as the trade off now is spectacular, but I still like my time.  Luckily for me my honey gets it.  She doesn’t get offended when I say I need some down time.  When I say I need to have stillness… quiet.  Like now…

We had such a great two days over at the kid’s house.  A really lovely Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

Pierogi making and toy building and a walk and elf set up on Christmas Eve.  Such a nice day.  Karen makes a mean pierogi… or several of them.  So good.  A new Christmas Eve tradition is born.  From now on every Christmas Eve we will be clamoring for pierogi.  Yum.  After a walk, and food, and after the young gent went to bed we all went into elf mode.  Building toys and setting out his wagon and enormous zebra, later named Zeus.  The kids put together his easel.  All while Christmas music played.

Christmas day Karen and I opened our gifts to each other, and the gifts from Mom for the pups (they loved them… or, more accurately, Weston took to both of them and Riley hasn’t seen much of either since… LOL) while enjoying a quick cup of coffee.  We had to get it all done and then get dressed and head over to the kid’s house so we’d be there before the little guy was up and able to look at the tree.  We didn’t make it before he was up, but he hadn’t looked at the tree yet.  When that little man wakes up he thinks of only one thing… food.  He loves him some oatmeal and applesauce!

So he looked at the tree and the gifts and was overwhelmed.  In a good way.  We all opened, he opened some of his, and we enjoyed some cinnamon rolls. Then Martin made us lunch (pizza) using his new bread maker.  He makes some mean pizza dough and we made some yummy pizzas.  Then a walk (the young man rode in his new wagon part of the way and pushed it part of the way and cared less about it part of the way).  The walk was followed by more present opening for him, he got an unusually high number of presents… go figure.  It was fun.

After a full day Sebastian had a little dinner, played a little more, and then went up for his bath and bed.  Meanwhile the turkey was cooked (it had been started earlier in the day) and Karen and I set about getting the rest of the stuff ready.  The kids came back down and the table was set, the food laid out, the wine uncorked, and there we were… turkey dinner for the four of us with most of the trimmings.  A quiet really nice dinner.  We followed that up with a rousing game of Mad Gab, a game we’d gotten for them for Christmas.  It was totally fun.  At one point Mary and I were laughing so hard we were crying.  Good fun!

It was a beautiful Christmas this year.  Relaxed, fun, totally great.  As Mary said… it’s why we all moved to the same place.  So we could enjoy stuff like this while still getting to sleep in our own beds at night.  The best of both worlds.

The result… New glasses for both of us, cleaner teeth, and poked and prodded all around.

Now.. 2012… LOL

Thanksgiving. A holiday that, though initially maybe not traditionally about this, has become mostly about people eating, watching football, and most importantly pausing to give thanks to anything, everything, and everyone that people might pause to give thanks to. It’s a holiday about family and friends. A holiday about the people in our lives. Breaking bread (and don’t we all wish we could break it with Stan M? LOL An inside joke… and I digress), telling tales, laughing, loving, crying, and getting really full.

I think I’m still full from the meal we had on Thanksgiving over at the kid’s place. It was a lovely day. Spending time playing with the little man, helping to make what turned out to be a fantastic meal (my help consisted of making the green bean casserole… just empty cans into dish, but hey… I helped… and it was damn good baby!), hanging out with my honey, Mary, Martin, the little dude, and also Raya, Alex, and Tavish. We ate, chatted, played with the two little lads, and then after those lads went to bed we played games, drank tea, laughed. I will not reveal anything about things discussed during those games other than to use a couple of tell-tale phrases… Pam and skid marks. All other secrets are better left hidden. To be sure, it was a grand good day.

What I want to say here I think is that Thanksgiving should be a state of mind, not a one day a year kind of deal. Don’t get me wrong… I’m not saying do away with the turkey, fixin’s, football, game playing, and all of that. Let’s keep the day and on that day doubly send out those vibes of many thanks. I guess what I’m saying is we should strive to be thankful every day. All days. Always. It’s tough when the day is dark and dreary and work is a pain and people in one way or another are suffering. But it’s a great thing to still, in the face of all of that, pause during the day and say to yourself, if you don’t say it aloud, I’m thankful for… I’m grateful for… I’m happy I have this person or that thing or that dog or cat in my life…

So today I decided I’m going to say it out loud…

I am so grateful, thankful, lucky, fill in any other and all other words to express gratitude, thanks, and praise all rolled into one, for my honey. I will cry writing this, but I am in awe of your presence in my life. I say this over and over… but I have no idea what I did to have this happen. Whatever it was, thank you, thank you, thank you. You are light, laughter, air, grace, beauty, imagination, wonder, art, and all my wishes fulfilled. It’s been over eight and a half years and I love you more with each passing minute. I can’t believe it’s possible to love someone this much and tomorrow it will be more, but that’s what happens… every day. You get me. And I’m not easy. But, you get me. You understand me I think better than I do. Know where I’m at before I know I’m there. You are joy walking, my little sage in disguise. You bring light with you everywhere, and I am so blessed that your light gets to shine on me every day. I love you my love… more than this much.

I’m blessed also to have the best Mom ever. I don’t know what to say about her other than to say she is also grace walking. My Mom has been through some stuff, and I’ve seen her handle it all with so much class and grace. Maybe not always with a smile, but nearly always. People tell me I have a great smile, and I always say I got it from my Mom. It’s true. To say you’re my friend as well… bonus. It’s not everyone who can say they just like hanging out with their Mom. I can. I do. I love you so very much and every day I know how lucky I am to have you in my life. To have had you in my life through everything. We are separated this year. Me moving away to another state. We’ve never been this far apart and even though we are both dealing with it pretty well I think I miss you. I miss you but also know you’re right here with me. As I am right there with you. It’s that kind of bond. The kind big love makes.

Kev… You are my champion, my defender, my buddy, my partner in crime, my big little brother. To say we are peas in a pod is putting it mildly. We have seen a lot you and I. Been through a lot and always been there for each other. Always. Sometimes when life hasn’t been as kind as it could be to us we were all we had. Or at least it seemed that way. Kev and I against the world. I love that big lug of a guy. Fort building, mini bike riding, pool playing, adventure making, fighting each other and defending each other against others. I am grateful for you. For your friendship, your noble ideals, your loyalty, your laugh, your grin, and the best hugs given by any human on the planet. You are an amazing man. And thank goodness, you are my brother.

Mary… I never had my own children, I didn’t want any actually, until I met your Mom and by then it was, we felt, a little late in life for us. But lucky me, I didn’t just get a life with your Mom, I got a life with you. And you, my step-daughter, are amazing. I have never said these things to you, but I am so very happy and lucky to have you in my life. I am so very proud of you. Funny, fun, so very smart, silly, clear minded, stubborn, tough, with high expectations and a loyalty stronger than steel, you are fantastic. I am also so very grateful for the little man, our Sebastian. And you, Mary, are a fantastic Mom. I watch you with him and think to myself… wow, she’s doing this or that just right. Teaching him to swim, teaching him to be in the world, teaching him to grow up and be an amazing man. You are a great Mom Mary. And I am grateful every day that I get to be around you, be around your son, be in your life. Thank you for letting me be a part of things, for not just being my partner’s daughter, but mine as well. Thank you… and I love you very much.

Martin… No greater son-in-law could a mother in law have. You are a gentleman… and gentle man. I love how you treat Mary. How you make a home with her. How you are as a father. I love watching you with Sebastian, talking to him, playing with him. I love how you take care of your family. All that, and you make me think and laugh. You are easy to be around. Easy to be with. And that, my son-in-law is a gift. As you are a gift to me.

And what would this blog post be without a mention of our pups… Weston and Riley. Every day I get joy from them. Exasperating, sometimes annoying, loud, hyper, needy… but always loving. Always loyal. Always affectionate. Always there with a snuggle. Funny little creatures that have totally stolen our hearts. We adore them. Are in love with our dogs. I sometimes say it’s a sad state of affairs, loving dogs this much. But it isn’t. It’s a glad, happy, wonderful, grateful state of affairs. Unconditional mutual admiration and adoration.

I can’t go on to list everyone I should… to say thank you to everyone I love. If I did this blog would be much longer than anyone would probably want to read, or have the attention span for. I will just say this… to my family and friends, old and new, I am blessed. I have the gold standard of people in my life. Each one of you brings something to my life that is cherished, noticed, and appreciated by me. I couldn’t be luckier to know and call you friends and family. I don’t say it enough, maybe don’t even talk to some of you enough, but I think of you often. I can’t begin to express how deep my appreciation and love go. It’s deep. It’s endless. My life is a beautiful tapestry of people, woven together by thread upon thread of shared life experiences and stories. I love you guys. I’m so very lucky to have you. And I hope with all that I am that I’ve been and continue to be as good a friend, sister, daughter, niece, aunt, grand-daughter, cousin, sister-in-law, and all around person as you all have been to me. I’m lucky. Lucky. Lucky. So fortunate. And so very thankful for each and every one of you.

And there it is… my none Thanksgiving Day thanksgiving. Thanksgiving has come, but not gone.

After I saw Alfie I brought him in, of course, and propped him up on the kitchen counter to dry.  It’s his normal drying spot.  Seems to work.  Weston will miss him until Alfie re-joins the fold, but it has to be done.

And speaking of Weston missing him… this is interesting.  Weston has never really taken any particular interest in any one toy.  He loves chasing and catching the ball the most and will occasionally carry around the Mailman or the Hedgehog.  Both of which have stayed in tact, a sure sign he likes them as he hasn’t chewed the stuffing out of them.  But that’s about it… he will carry one around for awhile and then put it down, forgotten for quite a long time until the next time he picks one up and carries it around.  Alfie is different.  We picked up Alfie, and his co-hort Squiggy, when we stopped at Praireland Feeds (where we buy the pup’s food) on my birthday weekend as we headed out of town.  I noticed this little bin of stuffed things and thought the pups needed a little treat for the trip so I picked up a red and green one.  The naming of them happened after we got home from the weekend.  Weston took a particular liking to red, later named Alfie.  He started carrying him around everywhere.  He brought him to bed with him, something he’s never done with anything other than a bully stick before (which we don’t let him have in bed by the way), carried him outside when he went out to do his business, brought him downstairs to the media room when we went down to watch TV at night, and had him with him when he took his naps.  He has never done this and it’s kind of cute.  He and Alfie have become fast fast friends.  Squiggy gets a tad bit of attention, but he’s usually a meager substitute for Alfie when Alfie is out of commission, like he is today.

Weston will be happy when Alfie dries off and is dropped back on the floor.  I’m sure he and his little buddy will be stuck like glue again, until the next time he’s left outside and gets showered on.

Meet Alfie…