Bienvenida a Miércoles

click on image for link 

Just a couple of thoughts on this, the last day of twenty-fourteen: 

 Did you know that the Morton Salt Company's tag line for a long while was, "when it rains it pours"?  No one was injured by the wall of salt or the collapsing wall.

Daughter was telling me a story a while back and during the telling of the story she used the term, "funeral park" which was used in place of cemetery, which she couldn't remember the name of the place where the dead are buried at the time. And since then, well, funeral park is now our term for cemetery.

Son said just this morning that he wants to act, sing, dance, and play music like Nina Simone-with a reckless, yet purposeful abandon. He is learning to play the harmonica and acoustic guitar. Just this past Sunday he got on stage at his favorite club during the weekly jam session. He is turning into a Mississippi Delta blues man before our very eyes. So fun.  

I don't really want to look back on twenty-fourteen except as to recall the ideas for work, learning, and . . . growth and how best to expand upon those ideas. Moreover, finding a way to stay the course, so to speak, in terms of not only getting projects off the ground but executing to fruition. 

On that note, the Mandala Discovery journey begins again tomorrow. I didn't sign up for another go 'round as I didn't finish the first. But, finish the first (as well as possibly repeating some of the prompts) will happen within the first quarter of twenty-fifteen. 

The second anniversary of my mother's death is looming and even as I type that, the emotion wells. The tears flow, not quite as often, but  . . still. At the end of "Cooley High" one of our (me and mom's) favorite movies there is a funeral scene and the song, "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday" is featured. I was finally able to load the dvd into the player, but cannot watch it to the very end. 

While not particularly driven by gadgetry, I wish I had a device that would record my thoughts without benefit of me having to speak (or write). For, many ideas come on the fly (so to speak)  and more often than not, an inconvenient time and place. Try recalling any of those thoughts, ideas, epiphanies later. 

I have to cut this off here as I must get out the door within the next 8 minutes to have any hope of getting to work on time. But, lastly and not at all least, this: The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing is on the January 2015 calendar page. And on that note,  feliz año nuevo 

A Simple Thing

"We are living art, created to hang on, stand up, forbear,

continue, and encourage others." 

~Maya Angelou

Two and a Half

MicroBlogMonday

As I remain challenged to stitch together much in the way of coherence please indulge a thimble full of random thoughts:  

1. The work (of more import, commute) week is shortened by two and a half days.To that I scream a resounding YaY!!  Well, the commutes will still be three full days as I must return even after the half day of work. But, still . . yay.

2. You shall be pleased to read that after much hand wringing and hair pulling, I have finally decided my contribution to the eve breakfast potluck: deviled eggs.

3. A joyous noise moment: the company holiday party won't happen until the ninth of January. It shall be a casual, family affair. In a bowling alley. To that I scream a resounding YaY!!!

4. The pooch (don't worry, she has since had her face done, eyes no longer hiding behind all that fur) and the catdog, Buttah continue to  navigate a, "I'm the favorite" course.  Neither need not worry. Plenty of love for them both (as well as for the more aloof, Pete.)

5. A condolence card arrived the other day which confounded
and astounded in equal measure. Quite moved by the outpouring of kindness expressed therein.

6. Birds are a common theme in greeting cards. Birds are a common holiday theme. My comfort threshold with birds is low. Not so low that I'm overly quacked out by images alone. But should I come face to face with a gaggle of geese, a covey of partridges,  a murder of crows, and so on . . way quacked out. Still, I shall be looking for every and all opportunities to shrink the bird themed greeting card collection currently in my possession.    

Mon., Tues., We . .

given the givens not a bad week, but certainly 

room for improvement. 

Like Pulling Teeth

 The title, until about five minutes ago (it is 11:52 pm) was going to be . . "I've got idioms on my mind"  (you know, like sung to, "You Are Always On My Mind") which is in reference to the fact that I was going to write and post this entry last night might one thing and then another thing and then . . well, I went to bed thinking and feeling like the entire week (and it was only Wednesday) was like . . yeah, the title.

But when I got up this morning the title was gone. Vanished. Out of my mind. All day I was trying to remember and all day nothing. Na da. Zilch. Finally, I just said the hell with it, forget the plan, do something about idioms (in general) and move the frack on. Hence, :the new title idea.

After an evening of quality time with Cinnamon and Buttah (Pete requires no such interaction save the sneers exchanged when kibble is dropped in his bowl) heating and eating dinner, cleaning the kitchen, beginning and finishing two holiday greetings (with "love lists" enclosed to be posted Friday I sat down to dash off the, "I've got idioms on my mind" post still hoping to get to bed by eleven. Until someone woke from their mid-evening slumber eager to share a rousing, amusing, and winding tale of a dry cleaner's passion, fake Valentino suits, sweat stains and more . .  

It was in the midst of that story where the original idiom (like pulling teeth) that prompted the idea or the post I was going to write last night, that was lost during the course of the day, reappeared. Waving hello, howyadoin? like nothing ever happened.

And now, still, not saying what was on my mind to say last night (or rather, Wednesday night, for it is now very early Friday morning) it shall have to keep for another time. For time, is no longer on my side. Five AM will roll around much too soon and . . . damn, now Cinnamon is pacing. Must get dressed so she can poop. She only paces when she needs to poop. Or after vomiting. Since she hasn't vomited, out we go.

Happy Friday getting here was like pulling teeth.

Something Old, Something New

The idea of getting up at the ass crack of dawn the day after Thanksgiving to brave crowds, mania, and in most cases, horrible weather to score a killer deal on __________ whatever is as attractive as sticking hot pokers in my eyes.

Now, I like sales and bargains as much as the next penny watching consumer. But, there are limits. And that which embodies the so called Black Friday is at the top of the limit list.

My Fridays after Thanksgiving have historically found me eating leftovers, watching holiday movies, getting a jump on weekend chores, playing board games, reading, writing, in short, chilling the frack out. The plan was for this one to be more of the same. Even more so since I'm fighting off the emotional tides of grief.

Then came an event called The "New" Black Friday. I discovered the event through my good friend Maxine and it sounded tailor made; something I could do from home, creating lists, sharing with a community of folks IF you wanted.

Hello. Yes.

So, in addition to some usual household tasks, watching movies, and laughing with my son and daughter I spent some of Friday (and beyond, to be honest) creating love lists, gathering materials, and beginning the constructing of same.

Great fun. A project that will occupy some of my down time over the next couple of weeks. Not, that I needed a new project, mind you--but this is well worth sliding others to the back burner temporarily.

Welcome to December 1st*

*micro blogging Monday            

T = together. time. . . .

Daughter has Mexicana radio flowing, soup simmering, grill fired up, sous chef Cinnamon at the ready. Son has stories. It is fun to be on the sidelines, watching, listening, learning, laughing. May your day be spicy or sweet, whatever your heart and soul desires. Happy Thanksgiving.

Monday. Monday.

MicroBlogMonday !! 

That. Is. All.  Five AMcomes much too quickly. 

for now. 

Well, it is Wednesday

And welcome to it. Before turning in last night the news was all about how we (the region) have suffered record (for this point in November) low temperatures and now the S word and how it would affect the morning commute.

Well, the pooch and I were outside about forty minutes ago and low and behold, no snow. On one hand I feel great because who wants to trudge to work in the snow, get all wet and have to pack extra socks and some indoor shoes for sitting for subsequent eight hours?

Not his girl. Not this morning anyway. So, thank you weather forecasters for being wrong and weather pattern for changing course or whatever happened. However, on the other hand, I was kind of looking forward to the snow because, well, trudging. Extra effort to walk meant using extra energy which meant calorie burning.

It is coming. Just not today. (Or not this morning).

Welcoming this Wednesday morning is a scale date. I decided on November 5th when I got on the scale at it read a few ticks beyond 260 and I would 1. weigh myself every other Wednesday 2. Work to have the needle move in the  away from the 260 mark (in the lower register, just to be clear) and 3. To try to sustain the efforts for longer than a month, longer than 2, longer even than 3.

Oddly enough, the image I found this morning for this post is exactly depicts what my scale read this morning.

One day at a time, in two week blocks. Welcome to Wednesday. Welcome snow, whenever you arrive.    

       

Cold As Ice

#microblogmonday

One day last week, once I am not-too-comfortably seated on the first of two buses for the commute home, I open messages left throughout the day. (Work rules dictate that I cannot have my mobile device on my person while at my workstation). There, out of the dark, lay a voicemail from my father's second wife.

Chilled.

My father died Septenber 6, 2012. Five days after his 74th birthday. I didn't know it then, but my mother would die just barely 5 months later.

My insides have been as chilled as our outsides (temperatures plummeting from 60s to 30s in a twenty four hour cycle and staying there). My father's second wife (okay,  okay . . my step-mother's) message did not warrant a call back, in fact, she didn't leave a call back number--so I didn't call her back. She called my brothers as well and they in turn (of course) eventually called me. A family issue and decisions. I know if she had had a choice, we (my brothers and me) would have been out of the loop.

To the bones.

Tears have been a large part of the last several days. Tears steeped in annoyance and more. The annoyance for the folks this call put in my world, put in play.Their ignorance of me (us) their incompetence and their intrusion. The more; grief, memories, lonliness for my mom's presence.

 The upcoming week will mean more of the same for nothing is settled (yet). The issue at hand stands to haunt for many days beyond as one brother is out of sync with the other (and me). I trust this will hamper our becoming closer--for there has been little movement in that regard since our post mom's death discussion.

So, so cold.

The outside as well as on the inside for which no amount of layering will remedy.

waist not. want not. again.

microblogging monday

I'm heavy. Again. Not as heavy as I've ever been but heavier than I want to be. Heavier than I should be. Heavier than is prudent to be.

Again.

As much as I don't want to bethis heavy try as I might, I am having a devil of a time pulling together a string of successes; caloric intake, consistent and meaningful movement.

Hence, heavy remains. And in recent weeks, inching ever so toward -ier.

As I've been where I am before I know what to do. I am just, as I said, struggling with sticking to a routine and making the routine stick.

'Tis critical, this heavier thing. My blood pressure is higher  My knees are achier. My clothes are tighter.

Massive

Critical.

Five years ago I had the Shrinking Piggies to help me work through my weightiness. This time around, to be brutally honest, I hold little confidence that participation in that group, fantastic as those folks were, would yield much in the way of positive results.

But, something must be done.

Now. Consistently. For heavier, this much heavier is not the place to be. Ever. Again.



 

Five for Five*

Tomorrow is election day. We have a couple of pretty hotly contested races. The ads have been furious and the rhetoric fierce. Thankfully, early voting opened up a bit over a week ago and I was able to get my voiting in several days ago.

If a mailing I received a few days ago is to be believed, this election will make the the fifth straight in which I've voted. Again, if the mailing is to be believed, the habit of voting is typical behavior for my neighborhood.

micro blogging monday

The purpose of this mailing, beyond touting my voting habits and comparing same with that of my neighbors, extolling our excellent active participation in the process, was to remind me (and the other recipients of this particular mailing) that November 4th is Election Day!   Go. Vote

I don't know (yet) out of whose pocket the dimes for this mass mailing came. I do consider the spending of these dimes an egregious waste--reminding folks who have voted in four of the last four elections--that election day is near. I am willing to bet that most (like me) had already cast their ballot prior to receipt of the postcard.

Then again, perhaps the mailing was so massive that it included folks with less than four stars on their election activity record, though I can't imagine the wording of such a missive. Still, do these folks care that Tuesday is Election Day?
I'm
Perhaps some do. I'm holding out hope that most do care and that most (who haven't already) will indeeded
vote on Tuesday, November 4, 2014.

Polls open at 6 AM.

*of course I've voted consistently since becoming of age.

.  

They Work

A favored route to work features, among many business, a locksmith. The front of the building is painted very brightly, with a patriotic theme--good ol red, white, and blue--touting the name of the business, phone number, other services offered, and their mantra: 

We Make Keys That Work! 



In multiple locations  across the front of the building; large and small, with red lettering and then, with the blue. Over and over, again and again: 

We Make Keys That Work!     

My first thought was if there were locksmiths who were of the habit of making keys that didn't work. Oh sure, now and again a key might not work. But, they can't possibly stay in business very long if that kind of ethic is habit rather than  happenstance. 

We Make Keys That Work! 

My second thought was if it--the proclamation--is working. Or, has worked.  How many folks have chosen them over other locksmiths? And if the choice made because of the slogan. Or rather, mantra.   I don't know, I tend to be a bit dubious of entities screaming from the rooftops about whatever it is they do--or want me to believe. I wonder, who are they trying to convince, me or themselves?

The business is located much too far away from my homebase for me to consider trying their services. I suppose, given that they are, in fact, still in business (over 30 years!) they must be doing something right.  And that something may very well be, making keys that work!       

Over One Hundred

My first blog post is dated March 29, 2006. In 2006 there were one hundred and forty others for a total of 141. Each year through 2010 yielded over one hundred posts with 2008 being the most prolific with one hundred and seventy. 

There were over fifty posts in 2011 but since then, less than. 

With the inaugural post (as you may choose to read) I mused a bit about where this thing is going to go. At  the time I had two adult (children) at home. I still do, except the son is back rather than never left. In addition, two cats and two dogs (though not at the same time, RIP Diva Dog )  have been added. 

There have been other life events along the way; sexual orientation declaration, graduations, career changes, relationship statuses, and the like. The biggest life event over the last eight years; the death of my dad and then, my mom. 

Over one hundred. 

Now, with over 850 published (and a couple of drafts) as much as then, I still don't know where this thing is going--but going ON it shall/ I have mentioned this before. I don't know that I've ever stated here in my own space, why I blog:  Simply put, I must. Now, more than ever before.  

Despite all the talk of numbers, over one hundred, it isn't about the quantity--though I beat myself up something fierce when I go for more than a week without one. With all there is on my mind to say, I can't (consistently) bring myself to write.

Weird, that.  . 

Anyhoo...consistency. discipline. re-discovery. re-awakening. pro activity over reactivity.  

Telling the tale, real or imagined. 

Peace. .  

The Power of Two

My daughter celebrated another birthday on Saturday. In spite of our very tough year (with tough times still looming ahead) we had a grand time hanging out. She prepared a simpe and very tasty dinner. And thanks to a gift card she finally got to use 2 years later, dessert was divine.  

In addition to being my daughter's birthday iting was also National Coming Out Day. I can say without reservation that my daughter is and has always been my biggest supporter, my grandest cheerleader. The year Neta came to town my daughter donned her 'I Love Lesbos' tee shirt and joined Neta and me at Chicago's pride parade, where she got lost in a sea of gays. She  kept her sense of adventure and sense of humor throughout. 

I love her, without question. I also like her a great deal. She is a joy as a daughter and a great find as a friend. I re-dedicate this piece to my daughter, my friend, my number one fan. And to all the other supporters over these last few years, ♥ ♥ ♥  I wouldn't be here without you all !!! 

#Microblog Monday.

Friend. Missing.

go here 

I have a friend. At least, I think I still do. We met some years ago
and had what felt like, an instant connection. That connection grew deeper with our daily interactions and seemed to continue even when our daily contact came to and end.

Until it didn't.

I don't know what drives her moves to silence. My imagination roams deep with possible explanations. The end result however, is the same, her silence brings about confusion, an intense concern for her well-being and extreme sadness over the lost.

I am at a loss to understand. To reconcile.  

I miss her. 

Sinking. Sunken. Thinking. Not.

What? click on image. 

Cause all of me loves all of you

Love all your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me, I'll give my all to you

You're my end and my beginning

Even when I lose I'm winning

Cause I give you all of me and you give me all of you.*

I'm about three days and four hours from pulling my profile from the one meeting / dating site I have been on for the past several years now. Am I over the prospect of meeting someone to shower with affection and be showered in return? No, not at all. I just have so much on my mind and my plate that there is no room and frankly little appetite for romance. It is all I can do to govern the day-to-day.   

Still, the languages of love are bookmarked, catalogued for use  . . . whenever.      

*Chorus to John Legend's All of Me 

Poetry. Girl.

click image for info on Microblog Mondays 

i like it when we talk
the way you smile
the way you walk
like you got places to go
i watched you in far away places
seen you amongst different faces
and now you're laughing at my jokes




the first stanza of  fresh by Kim Ransom

Drift Away

"I want to get lost in your rock and roll and drift away." 

Transformation

>

Transformation: Not easy. In some cases not planned and thus, not welcomed. Constant challenge to embrace change, absorb the fall-out and transform into the newest "model" of me.  Understand, I'm not looking for a new me, not re-invention. I am struggling that has happened and with moving onward with what IS tthe current reality. 

Welcome to Friday. 

Next Mandala lesson: Trust