Saga Femme

2010-11-24T15:14:00.000-08:00

I'm just pissed.

I don't know why this bothers me so dang much. Maybe someone can give me some perspective on it.

So... Mom has this screen door that is set up kinda like a window. There is a fixed piece of glass on at the top, a moveable (up and down) piece of glass in the middle--with a screen for when the "window" is open, and a sheet of metal at the bottom. Y'know how you catch the door with your hip when your hands are full? The screen part is at the exact height to be stressed by your hip when you do that, so the screen was needing to be repaired fairly regularly. A couple of times a year, for as long as she has owned, it needs to be stretched and tucked back into its side frame, from which it has been worked loose by hip action.

Last spring, not long after open-door weather has set in, Mom comes to me with her high pitched I-am-irritated-but-I'm-trying-to-be-nice voice and says, "Carlson has torn the screen." I look at it and it is indeed torn--horizontally along the bottom adjacent to the usual vertical hip-tug looseness. I ask Carlson about it. He does not know. He really does not seem to know what has happened. I don't either. And while he is a pretty rambunctious guy (and, I admit, has been allowed by his mother to grow up a somewhat wild child), and does sometimes break and tear things, he usually knows he has done it, and usually admits to it. But not always. So I tell Mom, "Carlson does not think he tore the screen. How do you think it happened?" She smirks and says she does not know, but who else would do that? I say I don't know.

The next day, the tear is worse, and has obviously been deliberately pulled. I take Carlson aside, and ask him what is going on with the screen. He does not know. No one else knows. And the next day, it is worse. I get angry. "Look, guys, whatever is happening with this screen is not an accident! Someone is DOING this, and you need to STOP!" Blank stares all around.

The next evening, I am sitting on the couch in the living room, and am startled by the cat jumping though the screen door to get into the house! a-HA! Mystery solved! So I go to my mother and say, " I figured out what is happening with the screen door. The cat is using it to come and go. She just jumped through and scared the heck outta me." I am surprised by her response. She smirks again and says, "The cat did NOT tear that screen. She may be using it to come and go, but Carlson tore it in the first place." I really do not know what to say, so I just shrug and walk away. Why would she rather believe that her Grandson tore the screen--with no apparent motivation--and lied about it, than that the cat saw the little verticle hip-hole as an opening and jumped through?

The cat continues to use the hole in the screen to come and go. Someday, when it makes it to the financial priority list--hopefully before next spring--I intend to replace the screen door with one of those sturdy, yet air-flowy, pierced metal "screen" doors.

Fast forward to today. The brother in law is here, and as he is leaving he says, "Do y'all have a dog? The screen looks like a dog's been tearing at it. I reply, "It's the cat. She uses it to come and go." And Mom smirks and pipes in, "She didn't tear it originally, though!" For some reason I can not resist the bait. "Yeah. She did." "Oh! No! She didn't!" she says, wagging her head. I continue what I am doing without response.

What the hell?

The Lady

2010-11-09T22:23:00.000-08:00

I saw her by the old porch swing
when first we chanced to meet.
I only caught a glimpse of her
for she was in retreat.
I turned on heel and did the same
with quickened heart and feet.

I wondered where I'd see her next
but hoped I never would.
I opened wide my closet door
and gasped for there she stood
with evil smile on her face.
I knew she was no good.

From head to toe in basic black
tradition's mourning dress.
But, murderous heart! the truth is told
so none who sees need guess
a red bow tie all turned askew
She sports upon her breast.

And lately, by the garden gate
I've felt a presence--her!
And I believe she lies in wait
to make my husband widower.

(c) Ellen Rae 1985

I wrote the poem many years ago. (A fellow student in my poetry class at the time insisted that it was not about a spider, but about the fact that my (then) husband's ex-wife had turned back up in town and was making overtures. She was right, but that's another blog.) But my phobia of spiders still directly correlates to how closely they resemble a Black Widow.

I found a Black Widow in the dumpster yesterday and killed it. This was a big victory for me because heretofore I would never have been able to actually connect myself to a Black Widow, even with a five-foot stick (or broom as the case may be).

When I took trash out this morning, she was there again, alive as ever. So I killed her again. With the same broom. Which was handy because I had left it outside near the dumpster. (It is now the outside broom and will never be allowed in the house again.)

This time I killed her twice. Once with the broom, and once....(wait for it....) With. My. Foot!

Well, really, with my shoe. Which was on my foot. I actually stepped on a dead Black Widow. I am woman!

Memory: Midland, 1981; Two Bolts and Two Screws

2010-11-08T21:30:00.000-08:00

Terry picks me up for work in his new car. It's a dark green miniature station wagon. On the drive out to the airport, where we work cleaning airplanes for Continental, I notice a small plastic rectangle on the floor near my feet. I have previously noticed a hole in the console that appears to be the same size. So I pick up the piece of plastic and slip it into the hole. It snaps neatly into place.

Terry stops mid-sentence in whatever he was talking about and says, "Two bolts and two screws."

I look at him. "Pardon?"

He repeats, "Two bolts and two screws. Oh, and about 20 minutes on my back with my head wedged against the accelerator."

When I simply stare at him blankly, he goes on, "That's what it took for me to remove it, so I can install the radio."

2010-11-01T23:29:00.000-07:00

I took it down, again. My post on Elder Packer's talk, that is. It's very late (for me; I'm an early bird, and I am exhausted, both physically and emotionally, so I'm not going to try to explain why. It just feels like the right thing to do for the time being.

Next morning: Here's why: I am having all sorts of conflicting feelings about my blog post. I realized that I was seeking only to be understood, not to understand, and that my job at this moment is not to be understood, but to hold the gay community close and let them have their feelings, and feel my compassion. My compassion was totally eclipsed by my desire to be understood. There is a time for my truth, and this is not it.

I just finished reading about compassionate listening in the book Anger, by Thich Nhat Hahn, and I totally blipped it! I had a very enlightening talk with the friend who started it all (with her question) in the first place. She graciously accepted my intentions as honorable, while holding me accountable for the pain it caused her. If you read it, I apologize to you, as well. I am guilty of the same insensitivity I pointed out in Elder Packer. I have taken it down again, for the time being.

Up-to-date, and closed

2010-10-17T18:04:00.001-07:00

I have not blogged for quite some time, and I'm getting ready to start up again.

I've been in a bit of a quandry for awhile now, which is partially responsible for my dearth of blogging. It is this: This is supposed to be my story, and I don't want to censor myself. And: My kids read my blog. I thought about two separate blogs with separate content, but that felt like compartmentalizing my Self--which can be quite dangerous for me. So I've settled it, I think, by making this blog "Invitation Only" and creating another blog for public viewing. This blog will have everything, and I'll repost some of it to the other.

If you received an invitation, it means I trust you with my uncensored Self. And frankly, I don't mind if total strangers read this blog. It's just a select few innocents (my kids) and a select few...um...others I'd just as soon didn't have access. If you find yourself wanting a more vanilla version of me (or find you can no longer look me in the eye when you run into me), you can follow me at the public blog.(one-eclectic-soul.blogspot.com).

So there it is. We'll see how it works.

I just spent the better of part of two hours transferring everything from my old Bebo blog, so there's even some archival stuff for those of you who haven't been with me from the beginning of my blog-journey.

Enjoy.
Or not.

Naked and Opened

2010-04-19T09:30:00.000-07:00

We had a great lesson in Relief Society yesterday, taught by my soul-buddy Minerva T. She surprised and momentarily confused me by saying, “Sagefemme, get ready to talk about what you told me about God already knowing how we feel.” I still don’t remember the conversation, but I was able to find the scripture and read it for her: Hebrews 4:12-16. It is one of my favorites and I quote it, or paraphrase it, whenever it seems indicated, which is likely why I don’t remember sharing it with Minerva.

12 For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.
13 Neither is there any creature that is not manifest in his sight: but all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do.
14 Seeing then that we have a great high priest, that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession.
15 For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.
16 Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.

I am not a Bible scholar, and have never studied Greek. I don’t pretend that my interpretation of these verses is rooted in any intellectual truth. But I do know what they say to me. (What they said to me in 2006. I know the timeframe, because I penciled the year (why not a more precise date, I don’t know) in the margin of my Bible, along with the words “stop thrashing.”)

What they say to me is this: God knows everything about you. He can separate your emotions from your thoughts. He knows your intentions. Not only are you naked before Him, you are filleted out before Him; dissected, even. This being true, and knowing that Christ has experienced everything you have experienced, why not go ahead and be honest about how you feel and what you want? He already knows, so just say it to Him. He will sympathize and give you the help you need.

After Relief Society, the sister sitting behind me put her hand on my shoulder and said, “I want to thank you for having that conversation with Minerva, even if you don’t remember it. Because I have been faking it. I am so confused and I have been trying to act like everything is fine. Thank you for showing me I can be real with Him.”

I want to add that Christ does not only know how we feel, He has felt how we feel. I mean, not like a friend who has been through a similar variation of the theme. He has felt your feelings. Your actual feelings. The feelings you are feeling right now, He already felt them for you. How can we hide from, or pull the wool over that?

In the Bible Dictionary, under Prayer, it says “As soon as we learn the true relationship in which we stand toward God (namely, God is our Father, and we are his children), then at once prayer becomes natural and instinctive on our part. Many of the so-called difficulties about prayer arise from forgetting this relationship.” For some of us, the parent-child relationship is not so clearly comfortable and nurturing as this sentence implies. Hiding my feelings, denying my needs, keeping conversation on a superficial level; these were all coping strategies I developed because of the kind of parents I had. Sadly, my children learned the same things from their parents. But I now have some perspective on the kind of parent I wish I was. And I can translate that into an image of loving parents who really see their children, and who want them to feel loved and secure and to have their needs met and their wants granted.

I think we often have an image of our Heavenly Father—perpetuated by some of the teachings we have about prayer—as of a King. We have guidelines for how we are to address God in our prayers; we use the formal (and actually archaic) “Thee” and “Thou.” We should kneel. We should thank first and ask later…. It can seem as though we are being given an etiquette lesson on how to behave in the presence of royalty—curtsy this way, bow that way. I am not saying that these guidelines are wrong, or that we should not use them. I am just pointing out how this sort of training, without a balance of knowing how well He knows us and how much He loves us, can skew our understanding of---make us forget---the relationship that we have with Him.

We can certainly be real with God and continue to exhibit the reverence and respect He is due. When we pray in meetings or otherwise in public, we behave with proper respect and decorum, just as we would as a prince or princess in an affair of state. But when we have a splinter in our finger, we can let our lip quiver when we show it to Him, and we can holler at the pain when He pulls it out. And we do not have to bow or curtsy our gratitude, but can fling our arms around His neck and touch noses. When we’ve sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night and rolled the car, we can call Him. We can tell Him the truth (cuz He already knows) and we can count on Him to lovingly stitch our lip, ice our bumped head and get us safely home to bed.

He sees us naked. He sees us broken. He sees right through us to the marrow of our souls. He has felt our sorrow, anger, pain, joy. And He loves us anyway. Let’s boldly go before Him then, and open ourselves fully, not only to His scrutiny, but to His mercy, His grace and His love.

2008-12-22T20:02:00.000-08:00

State "O" the Union
Brickfish

its THAT simple

2008-11-22T21:24:00.000-08:00

My favorite six year old asked me the other day, "Wouldn't it be neat if we could just decide when it was day or when it was night. We could change it back and forth whenever we want."

I asked, "Who would decide?"

he said, "WE would."

"What if I wanted it to be day and you wanted it to be night?"

He shrugged and said, "We would Roe-Sham-Boe for it." And he hopped up on the curb and tightroped his way to the car.

Coming Out

2008-11-12T13:02:00.000-08:00

So I never thought my first blog at this new site would be about homosexuality. And yet, here we are. I guess it's time for me to "come out" to my family and friends.

The seeds of this blog germinated this morning, when a friend I value asked me point blank how I had voted on Proposition 8. And because I do value the friendship, and because it is such a big issue to so many people, I went ahead and answered a question I normally would have wanted to keep in my own hoop. I had to admit.... I did not vote.

And (aside from the fact that I am not registered to vote, and am generally jaded about the whole political process, anyway) here is why:

I'm ambivalent.

There. I said it. I am ambivalent. I do not have a stance on homosexual marriage. I have two stances. And I am firmly planted in each of them.

Here is a Reader's Digest Condensed version of how the circles in my head go:

Homosexuality is a paraphilia. I believe that. I don't believe it is "normal."

But then, I don't believe that the sexuality I experienced in my Mormon temple marriage was "normal" either. In fact, I know for sure that it was not. It certainly was not the highest and best use of the powers of Couple-ing that have been bestowed on all humans by their loving Creator.

In fact, I would venture to say that the attitudes toward marriage (and the resultant behaviors) that existed in my peer group as a dating teen and (very) young adult, and seemingly in the Mormon community at large, could also be described as, if not an all out paraphilia, at best a really sick way to behave.

I enjoy association with a lot of gays and lesbians. There are two in my immediate-extended family. They are great kids. I want them to be happy. I also know, fairly intimately, some gay and lesbian couples. As a result of being in a therapy/recovery community with them, I have learned a great deal about how they Couple (the couple-bonding process, not the sex act). And it is not discernibly different to me from how heterosexuals Couple. In fact, I would say that of all the couples in my almost-four-year-long group therapy career, I'd give the lesbian couple (one partner of which was in my group) the best chance of having a rigorously honest, loving and respectful relationship into old age.

So why did I not vote against Prop 8, and give gays and lesbians the ability to call their unions "marriage." Because I am ambivalent.

Regardless of how well they are able to make it work--I still come back to the belief that it is a paraphilia. I don't believe it is the highest and best use of the powers of Couple-ing that a loving God has given to all humans.

I do believe that marriage is a sacred covenant, and that it is meant to be between a man and a woman. I do believe that. And I also believe that God has a prophet on the earth, and if He wanted that status changed, He would let that prophet know. I do believe that.

So why didn't I vote for Prop 8, and reserve the right to marriage (in California) to be only for a man and a woman? Because I am ambivalent. (Return to top of circle.)

And because the argument goes, "They already have all the rights of marriage in their civil unions. Why do they need to call it marriage?" on one side. And on the other, "We are in a committed, life-long union, the same as a heterosexual couple, so why can't we call it marriage?"

And the only answer I can find within myself--to both of these questions, and to so many others regarding homosexuality--is: "I DON'T KNOW."

My gay and lesbian friends may be surprised by this post. You might have expected me to come out on your side. I hope you can handle it and continue to regard me as the person you have known and loved, and who has loved you (and still does.)

My Mormon friends and family may be surprised by this post. You might have expected me to come out on your side, and to have followed the church's position. I hope you can handle it, too, and not question my firm and abiding testimony in the Gospel.

When it came down to it, I had to do as I was instructed "from the pulpit" to do, and vote according to my own moral values. So I did. I could not vote one way or the other without betraying an aspect of my true Self. So I didn't vote.

Some from each camp may regard me as a traitor or a fence sitter. In response to that I will quote one of my favorite people in all the world (who happens to be a gay man married (in a state that does not recognize even civil unions) to his spouse for about ten years, with children). The quote is, "You know what? I can love you enough to let you feel that."

Books I've Read

2008-11-02T15:07:00.000-08:00

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling (all seven, but stopped enjoying them after the fourth)
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger (i feel certain I read this in highschool, but don't remember it... so I'll have to read it again (or at least start it and see if I remember it)
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce (has ANYONE ever waded through the whole thing and survived the sleeping sickness?)
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams (started it twice, but never finished it)
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

What have you DONE??

2008-10-29T09:56:00.000-07:00

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Alaska
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Been to Disneyland
7. Climbed a mountain
8. Held a praying mantis
10. Bungee jumped
11. Watched a lightning storm
12. Taught yourself an art from scratch
13. Adopted a child
14. Had food poisoning
15. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
16. Slept on an overnight train
15. Had a pillow fight
18. Hitch hiked
19. Built a snow fort
20. Run a Marathon
21. Watched a sunrise or a sunset
22. Hit a home run
23. Been on a cruise
24. Seen Niagara Falls in person
25. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
26. Seen an Amish community
27. Taught yourself a new language
28. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
29. Gone rock climbing
30. Seen Michelangelo’s David
31. Sung karaoke
32. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
33. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
34. Walked on a beach by moonlight
35. Been transported in an ambulance
36. Gone deep-sea fishing
37. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
38. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling (if swimming with the Manatees counts... we snorkeled)
39. Played in the mud
40. Gone to a drive in theater
41. Been in a movie
42. Visited the Great Wall of China
43. Started a business
44. Served at a soup kitchen
45. Sold Boy Scout popcorn
46. Gone whale watching
47. Gotten flowers for no reason
48. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
49. Gone sky diving
50. Bounced a check
51. Flown in a helicopter
52. Saved a favorite childhood toy
53. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
54. Eaten caviar
55. Pieced a quilt
56. Stood in Times Square
57. Been fired from a job
58. Broken a bone
59. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
60. Published a book
61. Had your picture in the newspaper
62. Read the entire Bible
63. Visited the White House (saw the outside....)
64. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
65. Had chicken pox
66. Saved someone's life
67. Sat on a jury
68. Met someone famous (Invited to Peggy Lee's birthday party...but I didn't go)
69. Joined a book club
70. Lost a loved one
71. Had a baby
72. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
73. Been involved in a law suit
74. Been to a foreign country
75. Had someone die in your arms
76. Watched kittens or puppies being born
77. Had a concussion
78. Driven through a redwood tree
79. Sailed on the open sea
80. Been whitewater rafting
81. Hiked a portion of the Appalachian Trail

And a few more Texanisms (thanks James)

2008-05-19T19:30:00.000-07:00

It's colder than a welldigger's a$$

It's cold enough to freeze the b@lls off a brass monkey

A face that could make a train take a dirt road

That dog won't hunt (Texan for "I'm skeptical")

carlsonism

2008-05-19T18:02:00.000-07:00

*I* think the things he says are adorably cute. And it's my blog, so....

Last night Carlson said the family prayer. He asked God to "keep us from harmony and influence."

(That's five-year-old for "harm and evil influence," by the way)

Why Americans should give up their cars (not!)

2008-05-18T18:01:00.000-07:00

Being currently without a car (see previous blogs) I decided to do a little experiment in mass transportation. (Please note that with a mother and two sisters living in town I was not without a ride. And Mom did try to talk me out this) I live just two blocks from a Regional Transit bus stop, and had taken the bus to work a few weeks ago. Excepting the extra two hours of travel and the less-than-friendly bus drivers, it was really fine. I could do it if I had to, and not suffer much. (There is a lot that can be accomplished in an hour on the bus...but that's another blog.)

So, anyway, I was taking a trip to my beloved Memphis and decided to experiment with mass transportation from point A to point B. Planning the trip involved a good deal of time on the computer, and would have required a very patient and diligent travel agent in the pre-www era. I knew I had to catch a flight out of San Francisco at 12:55 pm. So starting from there, and giving myself ample time to check in and get a quick something for lunch, I worked backwards to catching the Regional Transit bus 28 in my home town at 7:32 a.m. I'd figured the whole thing out. (Except that, anticipating touching down in the Land of the Delta Blue in the middle of the frigging night, I opted NOT to take the bus from the airport to Midtown.)

I left the house (point A) at 7:10 with my clothing and accouterments in a nice little wheelie suitcase and an overstuffed (and phenomenally heavy, even for its size) "purse." I arrived at the bus stop (point B), which consisted of a pole with a sign on it, at 7:16. Ooops. I forgot my jacket. Oh! and my sunglasses. Yikes! and my Prozac! At 7:31 the bus almost whizzed right past me, which would have thwarted my entire plan. But I flagged it down and embarked on my six-minute journey to the LightRail station (point C).

7:37 to 8:04 I alternately stood in the wind and sat in the wind on a cold concrete platformy bench sorta thing REALLY wishing I had remembered my jacket. LightRail arrived precisely on time and I took a 38 minute ride to the Amtrak Station downtown (point D), arriving as scheduled at 8:42. Just enough time to purchase my ticket from R2D2 with my ATM card (I love technology that eliminates the human element, don't you?), and wheel my nifty luggage out to Track 2 where all my fellow commuter train-ees have gathered as per instructions.

The train actually arrives on Track 4 and it seems obvious to all of us (after, really, no discussion at all) that it would be easier for us to go to it than the other way around, so we amble over to Track 4 and board.

The train is lovely. The seats are slightly more comfortable than the bus's, should you choose to sit in them. BUT you don't have to! There is a snack car just below where coffee and doughnuts can be purchased. Or a deck of cards. There are six cars to wander through, upstairs and down, and a bathroom on each level of each car. Cool. Way cool. But I choose to sit in my seat much of the way, plug in to the nicely-provided electrical outlet and watch an educational DVD on my portable DVD player. (I would love to have said I'd watched it on my laptop or my Ipod, but alas, I don't have either.)

I disembark from Amtrak at 10:34 at the BART/Amtrak station (point E), and after a bit of confusion as to where to purchase my BART ticket (signs would have been nice. I wasn't the only one confused...) and therewith missing the next train to the San Francisco Airport, I get on BART at 10:52, switching trains at MacArthur Park (point F. Fortunately it was not dark and therefore the station was intact....not melting; I don't think that I could have taken it...oh neverMIND) and arriving at the San Francisco Airport (point G) later than I had anticipated, but still within my comfort zone. The BART station is also the station for AirTrain, on which I ride to Terminal 3 where, as indicated by the map of the airport/Airtrain routes, USAirways--through which my tickets are booked--resides. The Airtrain is an automated electric train with a Mother voice that announces the stops well ahead of time and admonishes "Please hold on. Set luggage cart brakes to lock" each time we begin to move away from a stop.

As I approach the USAirways counter, I notice a sign that says flight #'s this to that should check in at United. My flight number happens to be between this and that, and my flight leaves in an hour and a half and I do not have a clue where the United Airlines ticket counter is, nor why I should check in there. So I ask the two USAirways men in front of me, "Excuse me, I just saw this sign and--" The lady who either does not like her job or does not like people and whom I was not addressing in the first place snips at me. "Are you asking if you need to check in with United or are you asking where United is?" I hold out my itinerary and say, "I'm asking how to get on this plane which leaves in just over an hour." She looks at it and says, "It says RIGHT HERE that the flight is on United." And sure enough under the USAirways flight number is a parenthetical and--to me--not fully explanatory note that says, "Operated by United." Okaaay. In the interest of time, I suppress the urge to argue that it does not exactly say on my itinerary that I'm Flying the Friendly Skies, but instead ask. "Where is United" And she replies... "Go down to the end of this building and walk out the doors, across the street and into the next building. Go all the way to the end and walk out those doors and across the street into the next building. It's at the far end." And she is serious. I say to no one in particular, "Yikes. My flight leaves in just over an hour." I look in the direction of the two men I had originally addressed and the older black man with grey hair gives me the parental look that says, "I told you to go to your room." and points (pointedly) in the direction I'd been instructed to go.

I trudge, then trot, forward pulling my lovely-ly wheeled suitcase along behind me, briefly considering trying to re-find the Air-train, but not remembering how many escalators I had come down.

I make it to the United kiosk (another R2D2) to get my boarding pass and note that I will, with only carry-on luggage--nothing to check-- be able to board on time, but will likely not have time to get lunch. Ah well. Perhaps something from a vending machine (except I don't see one). So. On to gate Z-172 (yes that's a joke). Upon arriving at my gate I find myself a seat and wait for the boarding to be announced. Except its not announced. Turns out my flight has been canceled. I get to wait for three hours and fifteen minutes for the next flight to Phoenix, which will give me just over an hour to make my connection to Memphis. So okay. A layover is a layover; what do I care which airport its in? And now I have time for lunch.

And fortunately I have brought two books and a portable DVD player. And being in the airport is much like being in the mall. So I look at some shops, buy a shawl (since I forgot my jacket, and its on sale for 25% off making it almost what I would pay for it at a regular store), and read.

And finally they call my flight, which has been delayed another half hour, still giving me thirty minutes to make my connection in Phoenix. Except we sit on the tarmack for a good while before taking off and by the time I reach Phoenix (point H) I have twelve minutes to make my connection and it is at USAirways which is, again, at the very OTHER end of the airport from United. At seven-minutes-to-take-off I am standing in a very long line waiting to go through security, and at two-minutes-to take-off I have only moved up one maze-row. So I weave my way back through the maze rows of people OUT of line and down to the ticket counter to ask what to do next.

Turns out the next flight to Memphis is at 8:47 the next morning. So I can come back and they will get me on that flight. But where will I sleep? They can give me a coupon for 15% off the airport motel of my choice. I think not. "I contracted with you people to get me to Memphis tonight. I do not have plans or the budget to sleep in Phoenix. You delayed me. You put me up for the night." So they give me a voucher for a night's stay at, and book me reservations for, the Marriott. And give me a meal voucher for an airport restaurant. I eat at Flo's Chinese Buffet and take the motel shuttle to a nice room with a hot bath and a king-size bed (point I). Not my plans, but not the worst way to spend a night, either.

Next morning the flight leaves only about 15 minutes late (I could have driven to Phoenix by now, seriously). And I arrive in Memphis (point J, if you continue to count the Phoenix airport as point H, even though I went there twice)) just 14 hours later than planned, having left home (point A, that is) 31 hours before. (I've driven from Memphis to my new home town in 42 hours--albeit with another driver. See previous blog.)

And my two day stay in Memphis is wonderful--almost holy. I get to see some (not all) of my most-beloveds, practice doing the work I feel called at this time to do, and spend a couple of nights in the house I wanted to buy while I was living there.

Of course the flights back are not exactly on time, but I make my connections and end up in San Francisco only about 30 minutes later than I expected. The Airtrain is not working and the only way I know to get to the BART station is on the Airtrain. So after going up and down the escalators trying to diligently follow the woefully inadequate signs "directing" me (BART --> and when you go --> BART is not X) I ask at an information desk, where a kind elderly gentleman shows me on the map just where BART X. And just then the Airtrain starts working again so I board it and it takes me one stop before staying ominously still. For a long time. For a very long time.

There are instructions overhead for using the in-car intercom to communicate with Airtrain Personnel and I am wondering whether I am going to be able to resist using it, when Mother announces that the Airtrain is experiencing technical difficulty and will be moving shortly, and please only use the intercom for actual emergencies.

And eventually we get going again and I make it to the BART station in just about three times as many minutes as it would have taken me to walk (after Granpa Information had given me some). So at the BART station all of the LED destination signs are blank and, being a neophyte, I do not know where to stand to catch my train to Richmond (via MacArthur Park). So I ask a driver and he says, "Well,. you could get on the Fremont train and switch at 12th street, or you could get on the Pittsburgh train and switch at MacArthur. But if you want, you can get on my train and go back to Millbrae--next and last stop on this route, and then catch a train that will take you to Richmond with no transfers." So I do that. And when I get to the Millbrae station, all of the LED destination signs are blank. (A pattern is developing, no?) So I ask The Lady in the Little Glass Booth what train I get on to go to Richmond. And she points to the train I just got off and says, "You get on that one and go to the Airport, then transfer to the East Bay train and get off at 12th street, then get on the train for Richmond." I stare blankly and say, "I just got ON that train at the airport. And he said if I came here I could get on a train that would take me straight to Richmond." She says (very nicely; she likes her job, I think, even on days like this), "I'm sorry. The whole system is having trouble and we are having to reroute." I begin to have an absolute panic attack at the thought of being stuck in the Bay Area with no earthly clue where I actually am, with public transportation down.

And my cell phone battery died shortly after taking off from Phoenix (even though I'd charged it all night...)

So, having no idea what else to do, I get back on the train I just got off. And immediately upon my tush hitting the seat, the driver announces, "This train goes to San Francisco Airport only. This train does not go to Fremont, Pittsburgh or Richmond. Do not board this train unless your destination is San Francisco Airport." Meanwhile The Lady in the Little Glass Booth is now out of her glass booth, herding passengers on to the train with the words, "This is the only train. You must take this train to the airport and make a connection there. There is no other train leaving this station. You must get on this train." and she is making sweeping motions with her arms to encourage compliance with her words. So I leave my tush in the seat.

The train does indeed take me back to the airport. And I do transfer to the East Bay train which takes me to the 12th street station, where I board the train that is bound for Richmond. Except all of this takes over four times as long as it is supposed to. What should have taken 45 minutes takes three hours and ten minutes. Needless to say, I have missed my Amtrak connection home. Oh, and the train after that, too.

But good ol' Amtrak has another train leaving soon, with just enough time to buy a ticket from R2D2 and make it back up in the amazingly slow elevator to the only track where the train stops. And it is pleasantly air-conditioned. And I eat a remarkably-less-disgusting-than-I-anticipated cheeseburger and fries, charge my cell phone in the nicely provided outlet, and call my daughter--who is already at the train station to pick me up--to tell her that I won't be there for an hour and a half. But I actually make it in an hour and 20 minutes. And we make it back to the house in her car in about 20 minutes, notwithstanding it being toward the end of rush hour. And I am SO grateful to not be sitting on the bus.

I'm thinking the shortest distance between two points is a Toyota Prius.

okay, its getting to be no longer amusing....

2008-05-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

The engine light came on in the newly-transfered-from-sister-to-mom hybrid Honda wondercar. What karmic debt is this about? I'll "let your people go." Please stop the plague!!

'nuther funny

2008-04-30T17:59:00.000-07:00

Carlson the Clown (though he doesn't mean to be):

He's been studying animals in science ('studying" and "science" being relative terms. he's five.) tonight he was talking about being a meat-etarian or a veg-etarian. He told me, "I like meat. I'm a carnival."

bad Car-ma

2008-04-30T17:57:00.000-07:00

As Dave Barry would say, "I am not making this up."

So The Dealership (see previous blog) did call and said, basically, "We will charge you almost as much as the van is worth to fix it for you. Or if you buy a new car from us, you can trade it in for about a third of what it is worth. OR, if you buy a used car from us, we'll just keep your van for no extra charge." I decided to have it towed back home until I could decide what to do. (it makes a pretty good storage shed, actually.)

So the declarer of it as healthy (see previous blog) feels REALLY bad about having done so, even though he drove it, like, 500 miles (I'm still not making this up) before giving it back to me, just to be sure it really was healthy. So...feeling as bad as he does about it, he is going to replace the transmission for me for about 1/3 of what the dealership wanted. O-K. good news. Just the logistics of getting it back down to the shop three hours away, but he can handle that, too. With a minimum of grovelling at his boss's feet, he hopes.

So...just gotta juggle cars with Mom and sister until the other sister leaves Sunday and I can use Mom's Geo until the behemoth is fixed and I can get some financial wrangling done around the divorce settlement so I can get something a little more economical to drive. >sigh< Good-enough news.

So sister juggles cars with her husband to get us all down to Monterey in one vehicle to spend a "Night at the Museum" (see future blog). Works out fine. comfortable car, though I am not allowed to help drive because its a company car....

Monterey with kids & cousin and sis. Beach, playground, beautiful weather, sunburned nose, cool aquarium overnighter...phone call from Mom. Stranded on the highway. Geo is dead. Bad news.

(I am not making this up.)

May I please whine

2008-04-17T17:56:00.000-07:00

or throw my head back and scream?

I've been playing musical cars since September when my mini van was scrunched (see a previous blog). I borrowed mom's and sister's cars for a while and then flew to Memphis (ostensibly to get divorced; see a previous blog) and brought Evelyn's car back, taking over payments, and she started using Louise's (paid off) car that had been left there in hopes of selling it. (see a previous blog)

I just had the big van looked over, some repairs done, bill of health declared clean a week ago. I got it back Monday (due to procrastination and logistics as it was worked on three hours away), registered it today (well... provisionally registered, at least; "his" name is still on the title so I need his signature to actually get registered and THEN we can take his name off.)

In the meantime, Louise's old car (which is Evelyn's new car) has had to have some major repairs done, nonetheless dying a gasping death Wednesday at the intersection of Germantown and Trinity. At rush hour. We discussed it and came to the conclusion that Evelyn really needed her reliable car back. So she flew out here Friday and left with her car Saturday morning at the Crack of Dawn for a bat-out-of-hell drive (see a previous blog) back to Memphis in order to not miss too much school.

Somewhere between here and Phoenix, she called to ask about the "humming sound" coming from the rear. I was unfamiliar with it, and she wondered if it was just the newer tires. But it got louder the further away she got.... So in Phoenix she stopped and had it looked at. The mechanic could hear it, but had no idea what was causing it, and gave her the go-ahead. But it got louder. So in Oklahoma City she had it checked at the dealership, and it required several hundred dollars worth of repair. Wheel bearing in very BAD shape..."turning purple with the heat" is what the guy said. So she got it fixed, had an appropriate meltdown, and went on home.

On Sunday, Monday and Tuesday I borrowed my mother's Geo as she was driving my sister's Honda, as she was out of town visiting her daughter and is leaving for Columbia soon (the country) and will be leaving her car with my mom. But she got back Tuesday evening.

So, as I said, I got California registration for the big van today, (having let the TN registration lapse at the end of March, due to procrastination and the logistics of it being 3 hours away for the last month or so...) I drove it maybe 50 miles today, at the most, and it died on the freeway. At rush hour. I happened to be on my way back to work to get my cell phone, which had apparently slipped out of my purse. And I had two barefoot twins with me, cuz they wanted to come see where I work, and there was no reason to wait around for them to find/put on their shoes as I was just running in to get my phone.

So we were near an exit but not near enough to walk with barefoot twins, and did I mention I did not have my phone? So I said an out loud prayer: "Oh PLEASE just let us go three more miles to work and let me get my PHONE." I started the car up, and it moved forward!! About ten yards. So I said another, little bit louder prayer: "o KAY then, can we at least get as far as this next exit so I can call Triple A, please." Wilbur echoed "please" in a reprimanding tone and I said. "I said please." He replied, "yeah...but your tone was......"

So I started the car back up and it went! And I did it again, and again, and again, and...well, you get the gist. We made it to the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot and called the wonderfully "worth it" roadside service club, who sent a tow truck post haste, and we dropped the behemoth off at the Dodge Place, which was closed but had a lovely little 'early bird/late bird' key drop thingy. And Mr. Triple A was kind enough to drop us off just a block away from home on his way back to the shop (which he did not have to do). I imagine in the morning The Dealership will give me the prognosis, and I'll have to make a decision whether to euthanize or revive. >sigh<

And I'll take mom to work early in the morning so I can get the kids to their school state testing site...then get her again in the afternoon so she can get to her Dr. Appt.... and I'll use the Geo till I figure out what my next step is.....(or possibly many steps, or maybe pedalling?)

Same old same

2008-04-10T17:54:00.000-07:00

This website shows me that folks are checking in. It's nice to see the numbers go up and know that you are thinking about me.

Things are plodding along fine. I just got back from a week of Watsu 2 training, and fell in love with it again. And I received my first Waterdance session, and fell in love with that, too. I'm having the hours from one school transfered to the School of Shiatsu and Massage to consolidate everything and work towards getting certified as an Aquatic Bodyworker.

California has no standard licensing for massage therapists, which makes it sorta crazy to try to practice here. I can't get a massage business license in my own town, because of the moratorium instituted last June. I can get a job working for an already established business, but I'd need a license in that town. The required background check takes 2-6 weeks, and they won't start the background check until I've put in my application for a license--which I can't get until I have an employer---who won't hire me without a license. >sigh< So I'm going to just go ahead and spend the money to get an "outcall" license in my town (and get the background check done), and then spend the $$ again in whatever town I end up working in. Kinda crazy, but I guess we do what we have to do. I'm also looking for a pool warm enough to do Watsu in. The closest ones are too cold. My search radius is widening. Taking the next reasonable step is a good premise. Not holding on too tightly to any one outcome is a good one, too.

In the meantime I am working very part time with an eightyplus year old lady with Parkinsonism. It is rewarding work, and they pay me a more-than-fair wage. I'm only gone two hours a day, so it doesn't interfere too much with the kids' homeschooling.

The children are very happy here. And I am grateful to be near my sisters and mom. And I love the weather now that it has stopped raining. Right now I am sitting by the open patio door and the temperature is PERFECT. There is enough of a breeze to set the windchimes singing, and not disturb anything else.

College is on hold for awhile, I think. I may take one independent study course, but I won't be going to school full time in the fall. I have the younger kids signed up for Montessori school through the charter school program (no tuition or fees), but they get about three times as many applications as they have openings for. (They choose by lottery). We could be chosen as late as two weeks into the school year (or not at all...). So I'm trying to stay open to all my options, and to stay curious about what the outcomes will be....

Namaste

Onward upward outward....somewhere, anyway

2008-02-10T17:53:00.000-08:00

OK

So. You folks who have been following me for the whole wacky ride are entitled to an update. I've been reluctant to post, but here goes....

Things did not go well for me--at all--with the financial aspect of the divorce. Oklahoma is an "equitable division of property" state, rather than a community property state....which gives the judge a great deal of leeway. He could actually have awarded me more than half of the assets, based on comparing my prospects for the future to my former husband's. Somehow the judge considered it an "equitable division" for him to keep the 4000 sq ft house on 4500 acres (with no mortgage) and the children and me to live in 1300 sq ft with my mother, who is 72 years old and continues to work for $12/hr because she can't afford to retire. I was awarded about 1/5 the value of the house itself (not the property it sits on) out of which I have to pay all of my attorney fees and court costs, some of the marital debt, my massage school costs, and the back rent and other debts brought on by his refusal to pay the full amount of the court-ordered support during my massage schooling. He does not even have to pay the unpaid child support. I'm not entitled to any alimony, either, except to pay for psychological care. And I get to pay my own health insurance. He has to continue paying the kids' but--get this-- he called me and offered to send me the cash instead, if I'll go on welfare and sign the kids up for state health insurance.

Do I sound angry? I hope I do.

On the flip side, my arm is finally doing better. I self-medicated with some freaky-new-age home remedies (DMSO anyone?), and got some good relief. And I continue to do the physical therapy exercises. AND I do some light exercises with my client who has Parkinsonism, which seem to help me even further. I still have pain when I work it, but the pain does not linger long at all. I have not done a full massage since I hurt myself in June, but I am going to try it out on a family member, soon. (I have done some brief, light hara (tummy) work and foot/hand massage on my client with Parkinsonism.) Still no word on the licensing moratorium, but as I've said before, there will be ways around that.

I have an appointment with a guidance counselor at the college next week. I will have residency in a few months, and may be eligible to start classes this summer. In the fall, for sure. I am going to pursue a Certified Alcohol and Drug Counselor accreditation with an A.A. or A.S. through the community college, then continue working toward my Master's. I can work in treatment centers, and with organizations such as W.E.A.V.E (to which I have become devoted) and a little private practice--without calling myself a therapist--with the CADC. I am excited about embarking on this leg of my journey.

I am settling in to life in CA. I can be happy here for the forseeable future. My opportunities for schooling--and training in various bodywork/psych techniques--are so abundant and accessible here. I love being near my sisters and their children. And I love being so close to the ocean/mountains/lake/river and wonderful good fresh produce. We've been given tons of kiwi, oranges and grapefruit from neighbors yards the past couple of months. I neglected my sister's fig and pomegranate trees this fall, but the kids scarffed up her cherries this summer. I'd started coveting a Victorio Strainer in recent weeks, plotting to make up for lost opportunity....then realized she's in a rent house and will be moving before I can take advantage of this year's bounty. >sigh<

So all in all, life is good. Different from what I'd hoped, but good. I'm hoping to get out to TN again this summer (and back for good eventually.....)

Peace to your souls!

Man it pours

2008-02-10T17:52:00.000-08:00

So

It never stopped drizzling since I wrote that last blog. It never actually RAINED, mind you. But it has not stopped drizzling. And it is cold, and so UN-California-like. And I don't like it. So I'm crying UNCLE to the cosmos, and asking for mercy.

Rain, rain

2007-12-07T17:50:00.000-08:00

It never rains in California.

Actually, I remember two rains in my childhood. Once, when I was in first grade, it rained and the gutters backed up and the streets flooded. My mom remembers a neighbor coming down the street in a skiff, but I think that must be a memory from her childhhood, not mine. And then once when I was a teenager, it rained. And actually thundered and lighteninged. Wow. THAT was something to behold. We sat out on the porch and watched it. And someone dragged one of my sisters through the mud in the front yard.

What it does do in California is what you or I might call a steady drizzle. The drops hit the windshield and spread to all of a quarter of an inch, or so. And its hard to decide whether to set the wipers at the fastest intermittent and put up with a few seconds of blur between wipes, or set them at the slowest steady and put up with the squeaking as they drag across an almost-too-dry windshield.

It has been drizzling all day. When I picked up the children at homeschool co-op, Carlson's teacher said he had "gotten soaked" at lunch. Wouldn't come in out of the rain. I expected him to be wrapped in a blanket or somebody's coat, with his clothes in a plastic bag. But he was fully dressed in the garments I had put him in this morning, and when I hugged him hello, I could not detect that he had been wet at all, let alone soaked two hours earlier. "Soaked" must be a relative term, as "rain" is a relative term.

It has been doing what passes for raining here, as I said, all day. When I left the house to pick up the kids, the spot under the car was dry. This on a sloped driveway after four hours of steady rain. I laughed out loud.

The first time I ever saw it really rain was in Texas. I called it a storm and the locals laughed out loud. Right in front of me. That spring I experienced a storm, and spent part of it under the bed. (The radio had said, "Tornado Watch" which I later came to realize means "It's raining pretty hard and there's some thunder and lightening, but go about your business and if tornado conditions develop, we'll let you know.")

But where it REALLY rains is Oklahoma. I kid you not. I know you grew up with stories of the dust bowl, and you think of Oklahoma as that forsaken stretch of I-40 that connects Texas to Arkansas. But I tell you what, it rains in Oklahoma. If we had a day like today in Eastern Oklahoma, people would be saying, "I wish it would go ahead and rain if its gonna, and quit threatenin' about it." We'd be trying to decide whether or not to go cut firewood in this drizzle. And we certainly would not be worried about the kids getting soaked.

On a visit to Oklahoma, before we moved there, I saw it rain. My then-husband and I were out in the woods, looking for a likely place to build a house. I felt something hit my head and thought I had been shat upon by a rather large bird. The whole top of my head was wet. Turns out it was a raindrop. One raindrop. I heard it hit my head. PLOP. Then I saw some hit the ground. The footprint from one of those buggers was a good two inches in diameter. By the time we made it the fifty feet or so to the car, we were soaked. Honest to goodness soaked to the skin. No standing in front of the fireplace to warm up; we had to change our clothes. I was taking a poetry class at the time and we were doing a unit on Haiku. I got back to Texas and wrote:

liquid crystal balls
dive-bombing forest, field, stone
Oklahoma rain

Right now, I can hear the rain hitting the ground outside my window. People here would say, "It's raining hard." They would have their wipers on low steady. They would be unable to fathom having them on high, and still not being able to see to drive. Pulling over on the interstate and waiting it out for an hour, because its impossible to procceed in almost-zero visibility would be unheard of. For fog, sure, but rain? That's a hurricane. (The distinction between a hurricane and a tornado is lost in the translation. Don't try.)

Years ago, in Oklahoma, we spent a night in and out of the hall closet when a tornado actually did touch down about 30 miles from our home and was headed our way. We had a closet, about four by four, which was the only "room" in the house that didn't have an outside wall. There were seven of us in there because we were keeping a friend whose mother had gone on her honeymoon. The radio was blaring at us to "Take cover! If you are in the coverage area of this radio station you must take cover immediately. This is not a drill. This is not a warning! You are in danger. You must take cover." We listened as they named town after town as having been hit. We were right in its trajectory. Eventually, we HAD to open the closet door, or suffocate. My little three year-old (now eighteen) crawled out as soon as she had the chance. I told her she had to come back in to the closet. It wasn't safe out there. She said, "I have to get my Binken." I said, "Oh. OK. We can get your blanket if that will help you feel better." She said, "No... we have to get my Binken because the rain monsters are coming and the man said we have to take covers." The tornado passed about half a mile from us. It picked up a trailer house and set back down. On its roof. Killing the occupant.

It never rains in California.

she sang

2007-11-24T17:50:00.000-08:00

Seems the fat lady sang way back in late Sept/Early Oct. My attorney told me this week that I was officially divorced by the judge's summary of findings, even though the final decree has STILL not been filed by "his" attorney. (And we still have all the financial wrangling to do.)

So, as my sister said, "You mean you coulda been hitting the bars all this time?!"

LOL! I think I may just go contra dancing tonight, though.

River Walk

2007-11-19T17:49:00.000-08:00

One of the blessings of living in California is the natural setting. The weather was lovely today, so we took a walk near the river. We dropped by to pick up cousin Leah and meandered all over the river parkway (which backs up to Leah's house).

The grass is very green, after being scorched brown all summer, and many of the trees stay green, too. A few, like a big poplar along the bike trail, turn yellow and drop most of their leaves. This big poplar had a few dozen leaves still clinging to its branches, and the wind was blowing so that they swayed like multiple pendulums on some artsy representation of a grandfather clock.

First stop was to check out "the hobo's place" to make sure it was still uninhabited. This summer there was quite a nice little refuge set up in the shelter of a huge oak whose branches touch the ground. We never saw anyone there, but it was obviously currently in use. One day there was a 'Notice to Vacate" tacked up, and the next time we checked it out it had been obeyed. We wandered through "the forbidden forest" (forbidden because they kids are not allowed to go there without an adult), and the children decided that we must picnic there on Thanksgiving Day. It really was a beautiful setting, with large carpets of green grass under a canopy of big twisted oakish trees (but with green leaves...). Leah changed the name from "the forbidden forest" to "fablehaven."

We also visited a big rock pit. Its probably about the size of the lot my mother's house sits on. The sides are steeply sloped banks of rounded river rocks. They all clambored around on it while I watched from under a tree.

Back out on the path Carlson asked if I would carry him. I told him no because I was probably going to have to carry him all the way back. Unless he wanted to turn back now, he'd have to walk. He said that, no, he did not want to turn back, but one of his feet was getting tired. I asked, "One of your feet?" and he extended his right leg and pointed down at his foot saying, "Yep. This one," then ran to catch up with his siblings and cousin.

The kids found another bunch of old bones, this time obviously a deer. (Still haven't found anyone to identify the human-looking-enough-to-raise-eyebrows vertebra and humerus & ulna they found during the summer. Leah's mother is going to take them to an anatomy professor at the college she attends (he said he could tell her if they were human, but not identify them if they were not), but we keep forgetting to leave them with her.) And we saw a flock of turkeys with a PEACOCK tagging along. I tried to get pictures but only had my phone camera, and couldn't get close enough. Leah says there is a hen peacock as well, but I could not discern one. Amusing sight...this big tom turkey strutting along with a bunch of hens following behind, and a green male peacock craning his neck and struggling to keep up. Funny, as I am typing this I am getting of flashes of Leah leading the big kids around on our walk, and Carlson following after as best he could.

There were a couple of pair of deer meandering casually around in one meadow. They did not seem very concerned about us, but we kept a respectable distance.

When we finally made it to the river there was a white bird--maybe an egret, but kinda smallish--skimming along the river just six inches or so from the water. Beautiful. The kids threw rocks in the river, and I picked up a big partial-dome chunk of white quartz. (I just finished reading "The Day Kennedy was Shot" and could not help thinking,"This is about the size and shape of the piece of his head that was shot off." Sorry. Maybe that's TMI, but its my blog.)

The moon had risen early, and the sun was just dipping behind the trees along the river when we set out for home. Carlson said, "Look! There's half the moon and (turning around) there is half the sun!" I carried him on my shoulders part of the way...the stones he'd put in his jacket pockets making an odd sound as they rubbed together so close to my ears. The big cousins stayed just far enough ahead of us that I could see them most of the time. I grieved--am still grieving a little--that our world is too dangerous a place for them to be free to run around this kids' paradise unattended. What a great childhood memory it would have been for them to spend this time (and many, many times like it) with their cousin, making up games and planning where to build their "houses" without mom/aunt tagging along at a safe distance.

more of the same

2007-11-13T17:47:00.000-08:00

so....

Things are about the same...

I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow to have my arm checked out and find out why it isn't healing. The tendonitis is much better--not totally okay, but much better. The upper-arm stuff is just not getting better, so they are going to see if they can figure out what it is and what to do about it.

I drove to TN again--fourth time in eight months; this time in a Toyota Corolla with the four younger kids. Wow. Not something I hope to do again any time soon. The kids were really good, considering. (Helpful hint: In the ABC Game, you can find all the letters through "O" on just two signs. "A" through "I" can be found on "WATCH FOR ICE ON BRIDGE" and "J" through "O" can be found on "Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah's Witnesses." Also, the easiest state for the ABC Game is Arizona, eastbound. Lots of navajos and signs for Albuquerque, plus a "Z" on every highway sign.)

I took the kids back to visit their Dad, at his request according to the court's order (by which we seem to be abiding for reduced maintenance and visitation, but not for division of property payment--go figure). We have to make the trip halfway every other month. Kinda crazy. I chose to take them all the way this time, instead of back and forth halfway twice (to drop them off and pick them up. Halfway is the Petrified Forest in Arizona, almost to NM.

"He" brought the kids to TN after their week together, and we visited with some of the friends they had not been able to say goodbye to when we left in March (because we did not know we would have to move when we left). We also drove past the house we left. Carlson is still angry and grieving. He says I lied to him. "You said we were just going to spend a lot of nights in CA and now we live there." It makes me sad. And, truthfully, its hard for me to not want to turn his anger where it belongs--to his Dad who left us no choice but to move--but I just affirm his feelings and try to explain that I thought it was true when I said it, so it wasn't a lie.... Wilbur is also having a hard time with the move. When I woke him in the morning on Thursday, so he could get ready to leave, he started crying and shook his head "no" vigorously. he said, "I don't want to leave here again. I wish we could just stay."(Dallas, on the other hand, never intends to leave CA, and would actually rather live in OK than TN....isn't that wierd? Ruby doesn't say much about it, but she seems content to be in CA.)

I, it seems, moved to CA without my inner child. (As illustrated in a sculpt at the therapy weekend by my therapist: Kent the Wondershrink.) My challenge is to bring my whole Self to CA for the experience God has for me here. It is amazing how different I feel already. This experiential therapy stuff is wierd...but it works for me. I chose to drive the whole way this trip so I could attend the Reconstruction of my "Father of Choice." I'm so glad I did. I got a LOT out of the weekend, and the kids got some closure around the move.

I am not sure YET if I am divorced. I expected a decree in the mail when I returned home, but there was nothing here. And my attorney is on vacation until next Monday. Still no date for the Reconsideration hearing, as far as I know...

I'm looking into night jobs, so the kids can have an adult around but my mother does not have to actually do anything with them. I'm also looking at grants, loans and scholarships to see if I can make it just going to school.... And STILL hoping that my arm will heal so I can do massage. Watching for which doors open and which close, and (mostly) staying trusting that good things are in store for me!

Two Funnies

2007-10-24T17:46:00.000-07:00

I love little kids and the way they think, interpreting things through what they know.
Funny #1

I am teaching poetry to the 2nd-5th graders in our homeschool co op. (2nd gragers rebelled against being in with K and 1st, so came to my class.) The youngest in the class, Leif, is just seven. I taught them about meter, stressed and unstressed syllables, using their names, and their bodies. "An easy wasy to remember it is if you're stressed, you're kinda on your toes, and when you're unstressed, you're pretty relaxed." So we went around the room and said everyone's full name, rising up on our toes when the syllable was stressed, and flopping rag doll-ish when the syllable was unstressed. A couple of weeks later we did the same thing with lines of poetry.

Leif, my little seven year old, really got it. He would raise his hand every time we read a poem and would say, "It went, DAH duh, DAh duh, DAH duh...." or whatever. A couple of weeks ago he raised his hand and said, "It went UPSET, not upset, not upset, UPSET, not upset, not upset....."

Funny #2

The twins are learning keyboard from video at home this semester. A few days ago, Ruby was practicing a new song. It was in a minor key, with lots of diminished chords--kinda saddish. Carlson came up to me and said, "Mom, this song is hurting my feelings."

The Fat Lady Ain't Singin'

2007-10-08T17:44:00.000-07:00

So the divorce is not over YET. My attorney filed a Motion for Reconsideration, because there were several of the judge's findings in the summary that were inaccurate, and the ordered support payment was therefore way under poverty level. I think the judge was trying to be fair, but did not have all the convoluted information straight. N E way...

What next?

2007-10-02T17:43:00.000-07:00

Because I was driving and driving and driving on my birthday, and because we want to start getting together as a family every other Sunday...we celebrated my birthday at my sis's house yesterday. We were not there 10 minutes when Carlson needed something out of the car (My mother's car, actually, because my new car (Evelyn's old car) would not start Saturday morning, deadernadoornail...but that's another blog)

ANYway...Carlson needed something out of the car, so I headed out there to help him get it, stepped off my sister's porch and turned my right ankle HARD on the uneven concrete, caught myself with my left foot and turned it, too, then hit my knees and sprawled out on her driveway amid gasps and hisses from the entourage of kids who had followed me out to the car. Leah (my neice) went to get her mom as I lay there saying, "I don't know!!" to the rapidly repeated question, "Are you OK, Mom?"

I hurt like hell. Both ankles were screaming and I was trying really hard not to. Sis came out and said, "Oh my Gosh! Do you want me to help you up? (I shook my head no.) No. You just want to stay there a minute and recover." She started to retreat, then turned back and said, "Shall I just kick you while you're down?"

Hehehe.

We went on to have a nice time together, with two of my sisters and the one remaining brother-in-law and some of their kids, and a nephew from another sis who came up from college. And, of course, Savage the Wonderdog, my nephew's part Catahula, part unknown origin, amazing puppy.

I spent the afternoon and evening with ice on my right ankle, and when I woke this morning I could not put weight on it. It is not swollen or bruised, though. I just lazed around today alternating ice and heat, and staying off of it as much as possible. (Crawling was not very effective cuz my knees are sore from the fall.) It is a little better this evening, but I'll have to baby it for awhile. (The left ankle is sore, but functional.)

I have a physical therapy appt tomorrow for my right elbow/arm...that I injured in JUNE.

>sigh<

totalled

2007-09-28T17:41:00.000-07:00

That is pretty much giving away the punch line, but....

On Labor Day the kids and I spent the morning with my sister and her girls at the river. We left around noon, about the time everyone else started turning up.

We were sitting at my sister's house, visiting, and I heard a noise that sounded like a baseball hitting the side of the house. Just a big "whump." I asked her if she had heard it and she said it might have been her air conditioner coming on, cuz its really loud. (Her house is situated so all the bedrooms and bathrooms are between the living areas and the street.) A few minutes later, a neighbor knocks on the door. I was already up, headed down the hall, so I answered it. He says, "Both your cars are toast." I said, "Pardon me?" He: I guess both those cars out on the road are yours. They're toast." Me: I only have one car out there, but what are you talking about?" He: Your car has been in a wreck." Me: HOW? He: Big truck.

He gestures for me to follow him, which I do.

And there, at the end of the driveway, is my minivan serving as one piece of "toast" for a Ford Explorer sandwich. The other piece of "toast" was a BIG, OLD (80's), chevy silverado pick up. A young man, with his girlfriend as a passenger, was driving the pick up. He was not paying attention to the fact that the road has a curve in it. He never applied the brakes, never knew til it happened that he was heading for a car accident. the police officer asked what he was doing and he mumbled it to her. she raised her eyebrows and said, "You're kidding, right? I hope you learned your lesson."

He plowed into the Explorer almost head-on and pushed it around, so he was crunched into the drivers side, and the passengers side was pushed sideways into my car. The owners of the Explorer (next door neighbors) were gone and couldn't be reached on their cell phones. They came home after the big truck had been towed away, to find their car turned 180 degrees from where they parked it(neighbors pushed it to get the back end out from where it was blocking the street), and crunched on three sides in the front. All she could do was stare and say, "What...? What...? What...?"

My sis lives right on the river parkway, and the fluids from all three cars were running down the street drain that has a tile sign imbedded in the cement saying, "Goes to river; Do not dump." Crazy stuff. My minivan is totalled, with a new engine that has less than 3000 miles on it. So I bought Evelyn's car from her while I was out in Memphis, and she bought Louise's car that has been sitting out at some good friends' place trying to be sold.

Quite the ride, this life. We feel fortunate that it happened while we were safely inside. i had said just a few minutes before, "get your stuff together so we can go home" and sis had said. "Aw you don't have to leave just yet..." Dodged a bullet, I guess.

Buddanyway I did another bat-out-of-hell drive from Oklahoma to mom's house. About 1800 miles in 36 hours. And it was okay! Lots more tollerable in a little compact than in a Penske truck!!

D.I.V.O.R.C.E

2007-09-28T17:40:00.000-07:00

So...

I decided not to blog too much about this, as it's a public blog and there actually ARE some innocents to protect.

But we had the hearing, on FRIDAY, not Wednesday as was planned. I almost had a melt-down when my attorney called and said, "I hope you haven't left yet." When I told him I was sitting on a friend's couch in Memphis and it was absolutely not an option to postpone it again, he said the judge was NOT willing to do it on Wednesday but would "move it to Friday, if you want, or to another day altogether. So the question is: Do you want to do it Friday, or come back again?"

So my whole self-care schedule--with bookend therapy sessions, a friend to accompany me to the hearing, decompressing back in Memphis for a day before returning home--all went out the window. But it was OK, cuz I found in the end that I am a big-enough girl now to do it myself. (And staying with my friends in Wilburton was wonderful. They are a kind, loving couple who know pretty much the whole story of my marriage and separation.)

The hearing went...fine. It was miserable as "his" attorney is a dragon lady. (For those of you who know her, picture Michelle Rappaport in all-out bull-dog mode and replace all her love and concern with pure animosity, and you've got his attorney.) But I was able to say what I needed to say, and I feel the judge will be as fair as Oklahoma law will allow him to be. He felt it was too complicated to rule from the bench (which I anticipated), so will "summarize the court's findings" and ask one of the attorneys to write the decree.

So its all done but the fat lady singing. Not sure what all the jots and tittles are, but it's basically over. If you want details, call me, or email me. As I've said to some of you, I feel like a snake who has shed its skin.

You've heard this story before....

2007-08-01T17:38:00.000-07:00

So I have a divorce date.... September 19th. Anyone setting odds?

And the massage moratorium has been amended so that I can practice in an already existing establishment. I'm following some leads on that...

But, my arm is still not in shape to work. (For those who don't know, I fell down a friend's stairs several weeks ago and injured my right elbow. It's never gotten okay.) I have another appt with the doc on Aug 21. I think we are going to try a cortisone shot.

I really, really, really just want to go "home" to TN, but I know I have work to do here. I know I came here for some reason other than to crash and burn. I am trying to stay curious about what that reason is, but admit I'm finding it difficult to be optimistic.

Y'all call me or sumfin.

If it weren't for bad luck....

2007-06-23T17:36:00.000-07:00

So...
This is totally weird and random, but true.

You might recall that part of the reason I moved is because I could get licensed to practice massage here with the training I already have. Okay, get this: Monday evening the city council put a moratorium on licensing new massage therapists. The moratorium could last from two months to two years.

(I do not know why. They said they'd email me a copy of the resolution, but I've not seen it yet.)

BEWARE: THIS IS AN EXAMPLE OF WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAIL TO PASS ON THOSE EMAILS

Archives:Carlson Moment 6/23/07

2007-06-23T16:52:00.000-07:00

I am convinced that Carlson was sent to me to be a source of JOY and amusement in my trial. He is just SOOOO cute.

Tuesday we went to Toys R Us for the second week in a row because Dallas is expecting a particular Lego set to be there on a Tuesday...soon (the lego-maniac-in-the-know website predicted it). The expected shipment had not arrived, and Dallas expressed his dismay and disgust (mildly, really) as we got into the car.

I affirmed his disappointment, and we were all silent for a few moments. As we got out onto the road Carlson says in a genuinely-concerned sounding voice, "Dallas, are you getting enough fiber?"

(Don't ask me; I have no idea where that came from.)

more colloquialisms:Texanisms

2007-06-11T19:27:00.000-07:00

"...hotter than the hinges of Hell."
(Sam Pendergrast describing an ingredient in his brother's chili)

"...the smell coulda killed an acre of cotton."
(my former father-in-law)

More Poetry

2007-06-11T17:33:00.000-07:00

John's Red Sneakers
(a pantoum for terrie)

I tried, but could not throw those shoes away.
They'd made you jump so high and run so fast.
He beat me then he begged that I would stay.
I knew, for you, I'd make this marriage last.

They'd made you jump so high and run so fast.
It was because of them you won or lost.
I knew, for you, I'd make this marriage last;
You'd have a Dad no matter what the cost.

It was because of them you won or lost.
They took you to the moon, the sun and Mars.
You'd have a Dad no matter what the cost.
He's not sick, he spends too much time in bars.

They took you to the moon, the sun and Mars,
And made five-year-old feet go fast or slow.
He's not sick; he spends too much time in bars.
I knew, for you, I'd have to make him go.

They made five-year-old feet go fast or slow.
You wore them through the summer while you learned.
I knew for you I'd have to make him go;
Your child respect for him was crushed and burned.

You wore them through the summer that you learned
He beat me then he begged that I would stay.
In my mind I saw them crushed and burned.
I tried, but could not throw those shoes away.

Ellen Rae
(c)1985

Anatomy of a Bat-Out-of-Hell Move

2007-06-10T17:25:00.000-07:00

Or is it the Physiology of a move....

Chronology? Yeah. I think that's it.

11 pm Monday: Evelyn leaves after helping me put the last few items in the car. The truck has been loaded earlier by an army of men and teens from church. She has stuck around to help with the last minute clean-up. We both bawl as she is leaving.

1:00 am Tuesday: Crawl out of the tub and onto the foam mattress on the floor, having finished the last last-minute cleanup.

4:15 am Tuesday: Alarm goes off. Mist and pull my hair into my signature french braid (roll the bangs on velcro rollers for the "I-KINDA-care-what-my-hair-looks-like" look. Realize the only shoes I've left unpacked are the dirty white canvas mules I've been wearing for two days while packing and cleaning. Oh well, I was thinking about throwing them away....

5:00 am Pull out of the driveway, thanking God for my time in that house, and the absolute blessing it was to live there. I am driving a 26 foot truck and towing my mini-van behind.

6:00 am Tuesday: Meet Maurice at Laurie's to get my books out of her attic. Since I have room, I might as well take them. Laurie says, "I hate that you are taking your books because it means you won't be moving back." I say, "I thought about leaving them here just to make sure I would see you again." She turns me around and points me to the door and says, "Get out of here. I'll talk to you when you're on the road."

8:00ish Tuesday. Stop for diesel at the Flying J in West Memphis. Totally baffled by the arrangement. Ask a trucker how this works, and he walks me through the whole routine. Gotta note the island number, go in and leave your drivers license or ATM card with the attendant, take the nozzle off the pump on the driver's side and turn it on and set it down on the island. Then go around to the passenger side, remove the nozzle and turn the pump on, pump the gas, replace the nozzle, go around to the driver's side, replace the nozzle and go in to finish the transaction with the attendant. OK. Busy, but not complicated. I can do that.

Get black grease all over my already dirty white shoes.

10:20 am Tuesday: Pick up my Mom in Little Rock. She has flown in the night before to help me drive the rig to California.

Early afternoon Tuesday: Russellville, Arkansas. Get gas, switch drivers. I sleep on the bench, which is fairly comfortable--just gotta get the feet in the right place.

Late afternoon Tuesday: Shawnee, Oklahoma. Get gas. Get more grease on my white shoes. Hair has the bed-head look, reminiscent of Meg Ryan in You've got Mail.

Early evening Tuesday: Somewhere in Texas. Wonder if I ought to stop for gas at this exit, but Mom is sleeping heavily and I hate to wake her up. We OUGHT to be able to make it to Amarillo.

About an hour later: Around thirty miles from Amarillo. Fuel alarm sounds. Loud, shrieking car-alarm sort of sound. IT WON'T STOP. There is no civilization to be seen. Finally a sign for a travel stop seven miles away. The alarm shrieks the whole way there. Mom and I shriek back at it after awhile. But we make it and put 33 gallons into a 40 gallon tank. (We're averaging 7.3 miles to the gallon.) Grease on both my shoes, and one shin. I use a wet paper towel with some soap in the bathroom to smear the grease on my shin in a thinner, wider streak. Hair has the Charlie-Brown's-little-sister look--sticking straight out on both sides of my face. I tuck what I can back into the braid.

Early Wednesday morning: Sky City, New Mexico. Gas. Mom has been driving all night. Stopping in Santa Rosa for gas is a blur. I've slept--mostly...sorta, on the bench next to her. I did reach a point where there was absolutely NO comfortable place to put my feet. Shoes and feet have developed a distinct, unpleasant odor. Mom mentions the wind is gusty, so be careful

Later Wednesday Morning: Winslow, Arizona. Gas, breakfast. I can smell my feet without taking off my shoes. Hair has reached hag status, reminiscent of Miracle Max's wife in The Princess Bride. Mom buys a brush at the truck stop and hands it to me saying, "Do you want to try to do something with your hair?"

Early Wednesday Afternoon: Somewhere in Arizona. Gas. The wind has blown non-stop since we entered New Mexico. It is a hard, gusty wind, and keeping the truck steady has been a workout. I spill diesel on my shoes, and don't even look at my hair. After washing the truck windsheild, I hang up the driver-side nozzle and pull forward to pay--taking the passenger side nozzle with me, as it is still in the tank. (Most people will go their entire lives without doing this. I've done it before.)

Wednesday Afternoon: California Border Inspection Station. We have forgotten to purchase the obligatory Arizona Fruit Offering, so have nothing to leave with them. They want to inspect the contents of the moving van. I joke, "Are you looking for illegal Arizonans?" He smiles wryly. "Are you carrying hazardous cargo?" I look at him questioningly. He sniffs. I look at my shoes.

Later Wednesday afternoon: Somewhere in California. The truck is losing power. On a long slow grade it can only do 45 mph. I call Kirk, my friend the chief mechanic for the city of Collierville. I tell him what is happening and he says, "It's a U-Haul, right?" No, it's a Penske. "OH! Then no, that's not normal. Give 'em a call; they have roadside assistance."

3:00 pm Wednesday. Almost-to-Barstow, California. Waiting in what barely passes for a rest area for the Penske-ordered mechanic. The wind is blowing HARD. The wind is blowing SAND. I take the opportunity to brush my teeth (with bottled water; the rest area water is not potable) and wet and rebraid my hair. The bathrooms are NASTY. There is no where to go to be out of the wind and sand while the mechanic is running his diagnostics. We try to hide on the leeward side of the truck, but still receive microdermabrasion to our exposed skin. The windswept hair-do reminiscent of Phyllis Diller is also nice.

5:00 pm Wednesday. Back out on the road. The truck has been running idle for quite some time, and is low on gas. The alarm begins shrieking. Again it is seven miles to the next gas station. We let it shriek with nary a response.

8:00 pm Wednesday. Gas. Dinner.

1:00 am Thursday. Arrive. Wilbur is waiting up for me. Carlson is unrousable. Ruby wakes after much shaking, looks at me wide-eyed and gives me a hug, then goes back to sleep. I have promised to sleep and snuggle with the kids in the queen-size hide-a-bed. I say to Wilbur, "Do you mind if I take a shower before we snuggle into bed?" He puts his chin down into the neck of his T-shirt and pulls it up over his nose and shakes his head.

2:00 am Thursday. Crawl into bed with my sweet babies. Ruby joins us a few hours later. Heaven.

Divorce Did Not Happen

2007-06-10T17:23:00.000-07:00

Turns out he wasn't ready. Was granted a continuance on the 15th because, evidently, his attorney didn't let him know it was happening soon enough...or he didn't check his PO box...or something.

So... when I got back to CA there was another Request for Production of Documents, so it isn't a matter of just rescheduling. We have to dance some more.

WhatEVER

Divorce Date is Set!

2007-04-28T17:21:00.000-07:00

For may 17th.

Let's hope this is the last one!

I'm headed out to Tennessee late next week, and will be there until the 27th. I'll be moving all my stuff out of the house....sorting into keep, sell, freecycle, and dump piles. If any of you are scavengers like me...you're welcome to pick through the freecycle pile before I post it.

See y'all next week!

Not for the faint of heart: Wisconsinisms

2007-04-23T19:26:00.000-07:00

I HAVE to pass on some colloquialisms from one of my classmates. She is from Wisconsin, and they actually say these things.

1) It's colder than a witches tit.

2) I'm so hungry I could eat the a**hole off a skunk. (That IS hungry.)

3) It's raining like a cow pi**ing on a flat rock.

Wow! What a Trip!

2007-04-21T17:19:00.000-07:00

I just finished three incredible weeks of massage training. I learned some AWESOME stuff. Can't wait to try it out on all you folks!

Our "graduation" from the 200 hour course was a Native American-ish ceremony in a big TeePee. It was CO-OLD until the fire got going. The festivities went on until the wee hours of the morning. And of course it was very emotional. There was a LOT of estrogen flying--with eight women and one man in the class. (He became one of the girls after awhile!) Two of my class mates and the instructor were certifiably insane, so it was a wild ride. (Yeah I know you classmates are wondering which of you I classify that way. HA!)

I'm having trouble posting pix. I'll keep trying!

So... I didn't leave for Tennessee as planned when I last blogged. Seems I can't make plans more than a few days in advance, recently.

"He" scheduled the divorce hearing for...YESTERDAY, without consulting me or my attorney. (Did he KNOW I was in California going to massage school? Of course! WHY would he schedule the hearing for that day when he KNEW I'd be gone? Your guess is as good as mine!) My attorney got a notice from the court a couple of weeks in advance, so moved the hearing date. I have not heard from him yet when it will be, but I asked him to schedule it for May.

And when I explained to my landlord what was going on, she agreed to let me pay half rent (and owe the rest) one more month. That way I won't have to go out there twice (to move out of the house and then again to get divorced. Yes, I do have to appear, since we were unable to settle.)
So... I am waiting to hear when the divorce date is set for, and then I will make a decision about when to leave here. I'll come back and stay with my mom and sister's family until July (Watsu). In the mean time, I will study for the national exam, and (as I blogged before) I can work in CA with the training I now have.

One of the ladies I was in class with this week has a day spa with two massage stations. She said I could work there a couple of days a week (its a couple of hours away.) And there is another lady in the town where the school is who is not interested in massaging men. We are in discussion about my possibly taking up her slack a couple of days a week. (Mom's county requires a background check, which takes six weeks, but after that I can work in the area. Tennessee also requires a background check, so that part will be done when I apply for my license there.)

This week I was certified in Native American Hot Stone therapy (way fun) and Chair Shiatsu (office massage--an incredible routine!). We also had training in Craniosacral Therapy (in which I did NOT excel, but I will get it...) and Myofascial Release.

I am very eager to begin my healing work. (Dr. Ahern says, "We are not healers. We are facilitators of healing." It is a higher power that does the healing through our touch.) I have learned some AWESOME stuff (did I say that?). I'm very much looking forward to Watsu in July.

The kids are doing wonderfully. My sister is taking great care of them, emotionally and physically! I'm glad to be off school for awhile and present to care for them myself. I have really missed them!

Love to all!

Change of Plans

2007-04-06T17:18:00.000-07:00

Change of plans 4/6/07

Welll....

It seems my plans have taken an unexpected turn. I'll be staying in CA for awhile longer than I thought.

"He" is paying half the amount ordered by the court, and I can not make it work in Tennessee. So I am postponing the last three weeks of school to go out there to move out of my rent house and put my things in storage. I'll stay at my sister's house until the divorce is final, and then see what God has in store for me.

I am "manifesting" moving back to Tennessee in the fall. There is a place in Midtown I have been coveting for a couple of years. Maybe it will go on the market when I am ready to come back. Hold that prayer for me!!

I have made arrangements to take the last week of this course in June and the Watsu in July. Hopefully the divorce will be final by then, and I'll better know what my situation is. In the meantime, I can work in California, even before taking the classes in June and July.

I'll bring my table and do as many massages as I can fit in while I am there! Email me if you want to "set up an appointment!"

this is not as scary for me as it sounds. I'm not stuck, just delayed. Keep white light headed my way, please!

Incidental Tourists

2007-03-30T17:17:00.000-07:00

Our plans for my week off shifted somewhat when Louise's friend called and said that Louise could not come visit because her sister was in the hospital. (She's okay now, "okay" being a relative term. She is twelve and is a brittle diabetic, but they got her through her crisis.)

But we did get off on Monday and headed North to Grass Valley, the city of my nativity. (We passed the hospital where I was born.) We toured the Empire Mine State Historic Park, then went down to Coloma to the site where the Gold Rush began. We spent considerable time in the museum and gift shop. It started sprinkling just as we approached (on foot) the spot on the American River where Marshall found a "half-pea size" piece of gold. By the time we reached the old Sutter's Mill site, it was seriously beginning to rain. I sent the kids toward the shelter of the bathrooms and ran back to get the car, as the deluge began. We decided not to set up camp, but rather to go in to Placerville for dinner.

At the Taco Bell in Placerville, I saw my current favorite silly sign. "Please make sure you are wearing a shirt and shoes before entering." I was relieved to note that I was, indeed, wearing both, but was grateful for the reminder to check before entering the establishment. (My all time favorite silly sign is a note on a plastic bag: "To avoid danger of suffocation keep away from babies and small children." I've been wary of babies and small children ever since. It had never occurred to me before, having children of my own who are NOT homicidal, that the threat of being suffocated was so high around them.)

We spent the night at a nice KOA, then picked Louise up and went down to the Jelly Belly factory the next morning. Carlson started throwing up on the way down, so he and I stayed in the car. (I did learn, about twenty years ago, to always keep a "barf bucket" handy in the car. I've rarely had it used, but have always been glad it was on hand when the occasion for use has arisen!!)The other children had a great time. Carlson was SO sweet and understanding about not being able to go in; he didn't even cry. Then we went down to the Bay Area, to a Lego store. (Dallas REALLY wanted to go to Portland,OR for the Lego Brickfest, but it starts today and I start class in the morning near Yosemite.) The Lego store was a poor consolation to begin with, but an even bigger disappointment because the Pick-a-Brick was scantily populated. We drove through San Francisco (the kids had NO desire to spend any time there. What is THAT about? I love the place) and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, passed San Quentin (where I spent part of my childhood; see poem this blogsite) and went on back up to Sacramento. We are semi-quarantined because of Carlson's illness. Don't want to get cousin Louise sick, susceptible as she is. (Yes my dau and my sis's dau have the same name!)

I leave this evening and start school tomorrow morning. I'm very much looking forward to it. This is the 300 hours in 22.5 days. It will be very intense, I'm sure, but it sounds like the courses are well-presented for easy absorption. At any rate, the real training comes through practice, practice, practice.

Love to all!

2nd Week of Shiatsu

2007-03-25T17:15:00.000-07:00

Went wonderfully. The class was half the size of Shiatsu One--ten students, nine of whom I knew already.

I got sick on Tuesday--cold or allergies. Wednesday one of the practioners gave me a Moxa treatment (incense-ish sorta thing treating the points.) She treated me just as class was starting and told me, "This will probably knock you out for two or three hours. Just let that happen.) I dozed off just after she finished the treatment, and was TOTALLY OUT for the whole day. I woke a few times and thought, "Oh, wow, that was a really restful...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..." Then I'd wake a few hours later. I was IN the classroom, with class going on as usual (lots of laughing and moving around) and could not rouse myself. I managed to stay awake for enough of lunch to eat a few bites, but I have no idea what I ate. I slept all night and woke feeling INCREDIBLY refreshed.

Shinzo told me to do it again the next day, but I did not want to miss another day of class. He said my kidney meridian is very "Yin" and I need to Moxa myself every day to bring it into balance. He says I will not sleep as much after subsequent treatments. He says my energy level will be much improved when I've brought the meridian into balance--and it will likely relieve some of my depression and anxiety. The kidney meridian governs fear, and waking early in the morning with a feeling of dread is a symptom of imbalance. (I'm in good shape on meds, but that was my most troubling symptom.) This is my first effort at understanding Chinese medicine, and it is amazing to me how much of it makes sense, or proves iteslf in my life empirically.

Friday morning we did a full massage from memory--no coaching from Shinzo--for our final. I remembered a lot more than I thought I would (especially missing the whole day of class. (I did have to ask for help on the body area I missed)) My "client" said I did a great job, so that's affirming. Shinzo gave me lots of compliments, too.

I have this week off. I report to Ahern's for 300 hours in 22.5 days on Saturday morning. I leave there on a Sunday at noon (three weeks later) and report back to the School of S & M that same evening. So, unless my sister brings the kids down to see me, I won't see them for a month! (whine)

I also may not get a chance to blog during that time.... And I have misplaced the disposable camera with my pics on it. I'll try to post them this week.

The kids and I are going camping in Gold Country the next few days. Their cousin does not get to come with us because her grandparents are visiting from Tennessee--so that's a disappointment. We may also go tour the Jelly Belly factory. My brother in law says its a really fun tour, and its FREE!!

Thanks for keeping up with me. The site tells me how many times my profile has been viewed, and its nice to know so may people are checking in on me!

I carry your love and good wishes for me in my heart!

Driving My Life Away

2007-03-08T17:10:00.000-08:00

So we made it to CA!

(Helpful hint: Best rest areas between TN and CA: Amarillo-ish, TX and Sky City-ish, NM)

We left Monday morning around seven. I know, I KNOW!! I said we were leaving Friday. But then I decided to let Louise go to the Recon, so we couldn't leave until Saturday night, and then I decided that that was just plain crazy and we might as well go to church on Sunday and leave that afternoon. BUT I just couldn't get myself in gear. So we left Monday morning. And drove and drove and drove. Even though I do this trip roughly every two or three years, I forget how FAR it is. My goal was to make it to Albuquerque, but I only got as far as Santa Rosa (is that right? Santa Rosa? anyway some big town before Alb.) before I had to crash.

Reminder Note to Self: I AM ALLERGIC TO NEW MEXICO. I woke about two hours after settling down to sleep, with a frightful sneezing attack. (Dallas said I sounded like a typhoon, and Louise described it as a "sonic boom") I was absolutely miserable all day. We spent the next night in Holbrook, AZ, and I was much improved. Fine now that we are in CA.

We spent most of the day Tuesday just kinda hanging out, since I had rendezvous(es) with friends in the evening. We went up to Santa Fe, and I gave the kids a brief tour of Trauma Camp. (Louise and Dallas were so interested in where their mother had spent a month in "rehab" that they stayed in the car.) I only saw one staff member I knew, and she didn't remember me. All the good ones are gone. Ha.

I did get to visit with my therapist from Trauma Camp (who is in private practice now in Santa Fe.) It was great to catch up with her. She is way cool. Even Louise thought so (she deigned to go in to meet her, even though she had asked if she could just stay in the car). Then we went back down in to Alb. to see my bestest friend from treatment. We had dinner together and they were mopping the restaurant before we noticed it was time to go. LOL. Her husband kept the kids entertained with stories of his world travels, and with thoughtful questions about themselves, and with games of 20 Questions.... They all loved him. And the food was great. (Helpful Hint: Best New Mexican style mexican food: Padilla's. It's just off hiway 40, and worth the stop. Dallas asked if we could eat there on our way home!)

The rest of the trip is pretty much a blur of driving and driving and driving. Punctuated by Louise getting her first traffic violation citation. (84 in a 75, but he just gave her a warning). I had JUST told her to slow down as she was going NINETY. See, the thing is that we had to get new tires on the big van, and now it doesn't sound like it's about to fall apart when you hit seventy. It just keeps gliding along, faster and faster....

We got in at about ten last night, and the kids had to watch American Idol with their cousin Leah (Tivo) and we had to put everyone's height on the chart. It is official: Dallas is now taller than Leah. (She is still, and I believe ALWAYS will be, two weeks older.)

I start class on Sunday at the freaky new age school. Can't WAIT. There will be a "new moon celebration in the lower pool" while I am there. I'm eager to check out what that's about. (There will be a full moon celeb when I am there in late April, so that's way cool, too.) I'm sooo excited about exploring a totally foreign culture while I'm there. It's like I'm going to Japan or something!

Thanks again to all who helped me get here. I'll do my best to keep you blogged!

The Dating Game

2007-02-18T16:46:00.000-08:00

So...

I brought home this...uh...fish, about a month ago. Carlson was with me getting crickets for the Gecko at Petco, and he really, REALLY needed a fish. (And I love my aquarium but have not set it up in this house because I'm only here "temporarily" for the past three years, but that's another blog.) So I bought this pretty male Betta and little Betta tank & rocks and the whole nine yards for, well, believe it or not, $9. And Carlson named him "Carlson" (four is the age of narcissism....come to think of it, male is the age of narcissism, but that's another blog)

So last week, while at Petco getting crickets for the Gecko, I noticed they have female Bettas. Now you can NOT put two males together or they will fight to the death, but a female...well...

So I pick out a female of the same pretty blue, grab a "care sheet" and head home with my new pet and fodder for the old "pet" (and I use the term loosely regarding the Gecko, but that's another...). I get home, and read the "care sheet" and it says. DO NOT PUT A FEMALE BETTA IN WITH A MALE. But it doesn't say why. So okay.....

And we cant find the little divider thing that came with the Betta tank. So I devise this REALLY cool way to have them together, but separated. I put her in a half-gallon canning jar, INSIDE a clear glass cookie jar sort of thing (prolly 1 1/2 gal), with him in it. So he can swim all the way around her, but not get to her. I thought (still think) it looked really cool.

So what does he do? He starts courting her. Which is really amazing. He got VERY colorful. And spread out his fins elegantly and did a little dance over and over. So I get online and look up "breeding Bettas." And....she is responding to his advances. Turned a kinda gold color and swimming with her head down.

The site also says that there will be anywhere from 200 to 500 spawn and after a couple of weeks you have to separate them--each one in its own jar. And we are leaving in a couple of weeks. >sigh< So, not knowing what to do, I do nothing for a couple of days. Then I decide I better let nature take its course. What would happen to all her eggs (she's big with eggs but wont let them go until they do their thing)...no one is saying. Meanwhile he is steadily building a bubble nest, and dancing for our lady.

So last night I dumped her in with him and he chased her around, but didn't beat her up (as the site said he would...tear her fins & stuff).

But this morning, she is dead. >sigh< She looks fine--no torn fins. But dead as a doornail. So did *I* kill her by not letting her in with him soon enough? Or what.....

Moral: Read the Care Sheet BEFORE bringing home your new pet. Or...playing matchmaker is a dangerous game.

Poetry

2007-01-25T19:21:00.000-08:00

Self Portrait Sonnet: San Quentin

In California, in 1961/
I was born, the fourth of what would be seven/
kids—six girls, one boy. I went to Sunday School/
and Bluebirds. Just the word “Berkeley” (at age six)/
frightened me. It was Hell, I thought, or pretty close./
I was nine, I think, when Angela Davis/
and the San Quentin five, down at the courthouse,/
taped Judge Haley’s head to a sawed-off shotgun/
timed with a cell block raid that beat The System/
senseless. We took the bus to Marin for school/
and afterward played up on The Hill—where sticks/
marked convicts unclaimed bodies all in rows—/
or talked with Dennis, the Trustee inmate. It/
scared me more than Berkeley when they let him out./

Ellen Rae
c 14 April 1989

My Life in a Nutshell

2006-12-22T16:45:00.000-08:00

So....

I'm STILL waiting to get divorced. I signed a settlement agreement back in early November, and fully expected him to sign it. He did not...had six or seven changes to make to it, most of which were fine, but one of which I wanted to stay as-is (He had already agreed verbally to everything, and it was basically what his attorney had written in the first place.) He sent less $$ for December than he had been ordered to send and when I asked him for it, he flipped out (and I flipped right after him and we did the big blaming, shaming addict/co-addict dance) and now he says we will just go to court. (Okee-fine. Whatever.)

Also he is fighting my changing my name to Hafen. WHY!? You ask. (I know you asked because EVERYONE asks.) Because he can. Because Oklahoma law provides for me to change my name to a "previously used legal name," and I have never used Hafen legally. He could just sign the papers and the judge would OK it, but, because he CAN jerk me around about it, he is. So I'll have to do it here in TN once the divorce is final...or maybe before. I'll have to find out about that.

I HOPE to be heading out to CA in March (if the divorce is final and I have the $$) to a couple of massage schools. I can get in two months the 500 hours TN requires for licensing. I plan to practice as a massage therapist while going to college.

OK...now the eight kids: (the names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Evelyn is living in Memphis, going to college full time and working part time. She is majoring in Spanish and minoring in Photography. She works for an attorney doing title research. She is dating Jerry semi-seriously.

Oscar is living in Provo, Utah with his wife Tena. He works night-weekends at a residential treatment center for adolescents. He makes sure everyone is alive and behaving (read: sleeping) three times an hour. the rest of the time he spends playing computer games against his boss, or watching movies. Tena is in school to become a paramedic.

Kevin is also in Provo. He is working as a server in a Mexican restaurant, and has applied for the same shift at the same place Oscar is working. He plans to use his down time at work (if he's hired) studying to become an independent film maker.

Louise will be 18 this summer. She graduates highschool in the spring or summer (depending on how quickly she finishes her home school courses). She plans to attend a local community college in the fall. She is learning to play to piano, and doing very well. She is also developing her beautiful singing voice (piano teacher is helping there, too.) She recently bought a car, but does not yet have her license.

Dallas (12) is still a Lego maniac. He builds the most interesting and creative things. he will buy a whole set just to get a particular piece or two that he needs for a creation he is concocting in his head. he is studying harder in math since having confirmed that Lego only hires engineers as designers, and that engineers need to be fluent in math.

Ruby (9) is a budding artist. She loves to draw, paint and sculpt. She and her twin Wilbur (see below) enjoy soccer and play on the same team. She is very sweet-natured and quiet, but has a great sense of humor.

Wilbur (9) reads voraciously, excels in school (home school) and asks incredibly intelligent questions about all kinds of things--usually when we are in the car. His hair is almost as long as Ruby's. He started out three years ago growing it out to donate to Locks of Love (Louise and Ruby have both done that). But now that it is long enough, he doesn't know what he will look like with short hair, and doesn't want to cut it.

Carlson (4) is an absolute joy and a sore trial! He is very strong-willed and opinionated and I have spoiled him somewhat (ok, shamelessly). But he has a very sweet nature and a vivid imagination. He has vivid nightmares and recalls them totally on waking. (One recurring theme is his having to go to jail....) I received a dreamcatcher keychain in the mail several months ago (after sending $10 to the Lakota Sioux Children's fund)and it has just hung on the key hook in my kitchen. About a week ago he asked me what it was, and has been sleeping with it ever since.

The cat is black, male, still un neutered (shame on me) and makes a mad dash for the door every time it opens now that the weather has gotten colder(unless I notice him and say in a low, severe voice...."Ca-at! Don't you dare!" Then he just lays down and acts like he wasn't planning to go anywhere, let alone in the house. (Rental agreement says 'one outside cat' but we let him in last winter cuz he was a tiny baby and it was SOOO cold.)

So that's me.

The School of S&M

2006-03-17T17:12:00.000-08:00

That's SHIATSU and MASSAGE. hehehe

I just finished my first week of class and it was OUTSTANDING. I learned a LOT. And I realized that I am going to need a LOT of practice before I feel comfortable putting myself out there as a professional. I am eager to try out my new skills (over and over) on family and friends when I return to Tennessee in May.

The children were well cared-for by my sister, and by Louise when my sister was gone (which was a lot). The younger kids did not call my cell phone at all, which is incredible. (At home there is a curve about 10 minutes from my house, and I can count on my phone ringing right about that time EVERY time I leave the house. No matter where I am going or how long I will be gone.) So I just decided not to call them and remind them that I was gone. I'll be gone for seven of eight weeks and there will be plenty of time for them to miss me. (In April I won't have a break at all, so I won't see them for a month unless they come down to see me.)

The School of Shiatsu and Massage is on the grounds of Harbin Springs, on the side of the mountain above California Wine Country. I took pix of the view coming down the mountain this afternoon, and hope to get them posted this weekend. Harbin Springs is a retreat facility, and community. It is owned by NACOB (New Age Church of Being) and is inhabited by aging hippies (drug free, however). Very relaxed atmosphere. The pools are hot and/or cold spring fed. There is a hot pool at 112 degrees, a cold pool at 60 degrees, and a warm pool at 97 degrees. I spent every evening dipping in and out of the hot & cold, and then soaking in the warm pool under the stars. It was magnificent. Four of my seven weeks of training will be at the School of S & M, and I am so looking forward to being there again. (The food was also wonderful. I had signed up to be just vegetarian while I was there, but the carnivore food was just too good to pass up!!)

My training was VERY intensive, but also a lot of fun. I got overwhelmed toward the end of EVERY day I was there, but I am amazed at how much I have retained. And I am not exhausted, surprisingly. I think the time to rejuvenate in the pools, along with the relaxed atmosphere, helped balance the deluge of information pouring into my brain (and body). We massaged and were massaged at least twice each day, and we spent the first three days doing it on the floor. My instructor is named Shinzo, and he is from Japan. He uses the floor for most of his work, and involves his entire body in the massage. It is amazing. I learned a lot from him.

The class group was great. We had a wonderful rapport together--eighteen students. There were EXCELLENT boundaries all around. Everyone was very supportive of EVERYONE. Not a bit of nit-picking, and NO schmoozing. It was an excellent group of people to work with. Many will be returning next week, and at least one will also be there with me for Watsu 1 & 2 in April.

Sleeping in the van was very comfortable. I left my van with my sister to haul all of my and her kids around in, and she sent her smaller van with me. It has a bed-convertible back seat, and screened side windows. She tossed in a very nice therapeutic foam mattress topper and I was VERY comfortably set up. Evidently, sleeping in the classroom was not a very sonorific experience, according to my classmates who opted for that. Lots of coming and going, I guess, and an outdoor motion-sensing light that shined in through the glass doors. Several who started out sleeping in the classroom ended up sleeping in their cars as best they could. (Others tent camped.)

Thanks again to all of you who have helped me to make this happen! I appreciate your financial support, prayers and good thoughts!

"He" only sent half of the monthly maintenance for March, but I came anyway. I couldn't let all the help from you all, and my personal efforts be thwarted by him again. I'm mostly able to stay in a place of abundance and joy about where I am, rather than restriction and fear about where I might end up! I know good things are in store for me, and I'm "hopefully curious" about the future!! Can't wait to share what I'm learning with you all!!