Take Aways

No, I didn't attend any of the marches. But checking in during Saturday into Sunday via multiple news sites and social media pages, I was floored by the magnitude. The global response to Friday's event was mind-boggling, overwhelming; encouraging.       

Overwhelming yes, encouraging, absolutely. But, also sobering. 

These two images culled from hundreds, perhaps thousands, state just how large the the job ahead is, just how much work there is yet to do. The marches, the speeches, the signs, and the petitions, is only the beginning.   

For those who gathered on Saturday, thank you. For you and the rest of us, the work continues. We have only just begun.  

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You've Got Mail

sprout pencils

Happy New Day!  Here we are smack dab in the middle of a new month, the first month of a brand new year and I am not feeling the newness; I am not feeling optimism usually associated with a new year (particularly when coupled with a new administration); I am not feeling UP. 

Maybe because the cold hasn't fully left my body. My right eye is phlegmy and sensitive. However, it is responding positively to treatment. For that, I am grateful. 

Still, it is a new year, a new administration, a new drive to speak up, stand up, be present, and a re-commitment to that which brings me joy and hopefully comfort to others; writing letters.   A colleague of my son's was just diagnosed with breast cancer. I shared the Girls Love Mail program with him as a way to support others as well as his colleague. 

Happy New Day! for I am taking on this year, one day at a time; treating, acting, addressing, art-ing, writing, sharing, caring . . as the day presents, unfolds. 

Happy Birthday to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. May his wisdom, words, and strength embolden us all to live out loud. 

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Family: Life Matter

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One of my weekend projects (in the midst of my recuperation from the head cold that won't go fully away) was to get personal business and household papers in order which also meant: purge. Out with the old, in with the new(er) and all that whiz.

Well, I got that done. Feeling somewhat energized and motivated to move on to another project (inside over outside given the air temps this weekend) I decided to tackle the main photo and other memorabilia cabinet;
stuffed so full of our lives that the door didn't fully close.

Soon after I began, the thought that I'd bitten off more than I could chew crystallized in my mind. The volume of items paled when factored against with the volume of emotional intensity.

And then my daughter came into the room. She looked through some of the items, marveling at the sweetness, invoking memories of sheer joy. She commented on how the images of she and her brother as young children illustrated how protective he has always been, how loving, how gentle . .  We laughed over the kindergarten writings, the sixth grade essay, the toothless grins, the "Garfield" necklace and earring set, and especially the images of a dad fully engaged, fully invested.

My ex-husband died just before Thanksgiving. His relationship with the kids was strained long before we split. The chasm grew with his re-marriage, a stroke, a move to a Mississippi nursing home after he and the second wife split. Our daughter (much like I did with my absent dad) tried to engage, tried to embrace, tried to include him in her life, and be included in his, with little success. The experiences of the past several years left her a little broken which of course, broke my heart as I recalled my own brokenness over my dad's distancing himself from my life.

And then, Saturday. She saw what she hadn't remembered, what she hadn't known about her dad, my dad, the whole of all our lives. And we laughed. We were able to say goodbye. We were able to uplift his presence in our lives and embrace the joy that was, that is, that will always be, our family.

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Scattered Not Gory

The Magic of Christmas 

The above image is one of the few family Christmas photos featuring me and my siblings as children. My older brother is standing next to me and the younger is barely in the frame. That is is elbow. This is a Christmas morning circa 1965 or 1966 with my mom as photographer. It was my intent to post this along with memory lane jog before the 25th of December but I was smacked with a doozie of a head cold that left me horizontal as often as possible. What little present energies were spent getting to (and attending to) work. Even still, I was sent home early one day and called off another. I've already burned some 2017 PTO hours.

Today is the best day of the last ten. The worst is over. Knock wood.

I've forgotten where this was going . . .     oh, nowhere really, except that Scattergories is one of my favorite games. Daughter and I played a couple of rounds between my coughing and sniffling. Some FB friends were passing around a Scattergories with a twist--using the first letter of your last name to answer the questions posed:

P    Animal: Porcupine.
      Girl's Name: Penelope
      Boy's Name: Peter
      Color:  Purple
      Movie: Poseidan Adventure
      Something You Wear: Pants
      Drink: Pink Lady
      Food: Pigeon Peas 
      Item in Bathroom: Pipe
      Place: Portugal
      Reason to be late: Pothole
      Car: Plymouth
      Composer: Puccini
      Author: Patricia Cornwell
      Singer: Paula Cole

I still don't know where this post was going, has gone, it is just . . well, is.    I hope everyone had a please holiday and if you had a break, I hope that too was pleasant.

Happy New Day!

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**published too late for Monday, but meant for Monday or at least earlier on Tuesday.  Yeah, still kinda scattered, operating at about 86% (generous).