Today is my anniversary. Roger and I have almost made the 2 decade mark. Yes, I do realize I'm old enough to have been married much longer, but this princess had to kiss a lot of toads to find the handsome prince.
This is a difficult time for us right now and we certainly don't know what the future holds other than we know it holds us together.
Given so many variables like age, weight, health, the need of a good haircut and some general maintenance on my entire person I quit "fishing" for compliments a long long time ago. However, this morning I remarked that my head looked like a dandelion that had gone to seed and was about to "blow."
Roger looked at me and said "I think it looks good." To which I laughed and reassured him I WAS NOT cooking today so he didn't need to tell me pretty stories.
My husband, who does not profess to be a poet said "You are always beautiful to me, I see you with my heart." This is why I kept trying after failing? He's a keeper and I love him.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Kiss It and Make It Better
So, yesterday I was in the doctor's office. I love my doctor. He is really one of the good guys - he always takes the time to listen to my ranting and raving (it could be because he is a writer and I'm probably the subject of his next book.) He never rushes me - he looks with interest at my broken toe, the healing incision on my nose and sympathizes with my frustrations in my literary efforts. Then little vampire that he is he sends in his minion with her needle to draw blood to make sure that all my thyroid meds are properly aligned with Mars.
I mentioned to him that I seem to have such a talent for offending people and his comment was "good for you." I was a bit taken back. After all, aren't people supposed to encourage you to be the best that you can be? And here he was telling me that offending people wasn't necessarily a bad thing!
And then he reminded me that sometimes, some really neat people in the world are not and have never been universally liked. Mostly, because they draw attention to the warts on someone's nose. They are the proverbial burr under the saddle blanket forcing people to either be pricked or get off their hobby horses and deal with the problem.
He went on to ask me "are you ever offended by something someone said?" To which I had to admit that I was. He further questioned the reason behind my taking offense. I found that I am offended for one of 2 reasons - the first is that something they have said is so diametrically opposed to what I believe to be true or they have struck a nerve with a grain of truth I can't disavow.
His advice to me was to be offensive - not purposely - but to never be ashamed for saying what I really think and feel. Because once I allow myself to self-censor based on someone else's truth, I will no longer be myself. Instead, I will be constantly changing and rearranging me to suit others. And then he said it - Those that mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind.
Thanks Doc! I'll forgive you for allowing me to be punctured with a needle and for never prescribing any good pain medication for me.
I mentioned to him that I seem to have such a talent for offending people and his comment was "good for you." I was a bit taken back. After all, aren't people supposed to encourage you to be the best that you can be? And here he was telling me that offending people wasn't necessarily a bad thing!
And then he reminded me that sometimes, some really neat people in the world are not and have never been universally liked. Mostly, because they draw attention to the warts on someone's nose. They are the proverbial burr under the saddle blanket forcing people to either be pricked or get off their hobby horses and deal with the problem.
He went on to ask me "are you ever offended by something someone said?" To which I had to admit that I was. He further questioned the reason behind my taking offense. I found that I am offended for one of 2 reasons - the first is that something they have said is so diametrically opposed to what I believe to be true or they have struck a nerve with a grain of truth I can't disavow.
His advice to me was to be offensive - not purposely - but to never be ashamed for saying what I really think and feel. Because once I allow myself to self-censor based on someone else's truth, I will no longer be myself. Instead, I will be constantly changing and rearranging me to suit others. And then he said it - Those that mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind.
Thanks Doc! I'll forgive you for allowing me to be punctured with a needle and for never prescribing any good pain medication for me.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
You Are Such A Tool
Every job and even every person has a certain set of tools which are necessary to make a task not only possible but manageable. Without proper tools, we can be thwarted at every turn in our attempt to successfully bring a job to its’ ultimate conclusion.
Carpenters need a wide array of good hammers, punches, levels and last but certainly not least, POWER tools. Being married to a carpenter I have come to know firsthand that a carpenter never has too many tools. Of course, in my humble opinion, the reason for all that “toolery” is their inability to keep track of their stuff. Therefore, one must have multiples of each item so there will always be one in rotation while the others have gone AWOL.
Mechanics need different tools and in their case it would seem they also need for everything to be smeared with a good coat of grease. I will interject here my firm conviction that a drop of grease the size of an English pea could quite easily cover and lubricate the entire earth. It seems to have the same reproductive abilities of coat hangers and Easter grass.
As soon as we start our little ones in school they need their own unique tools. A real sign of the changing times is proven in the advancements of student tools. Big Chief tablets, fat round red pencils, crayons that actually color in bright vivid hues, safety scissors and pots of edible paste (oh, come on you know you were guilty of that too) have been replaced by computers and stick glue.
Office workers would not be very effective without calculators, keyboards and software. Doctors must have tools to poke and probe their patient and others to help them understand the results of the aforementioned poking and probing. Teachers need tools to bring understanding to the inquiring minds of their students. And the beauty tools of the gentler sex are too numerous to mention.
Parents need tools as well. Some of the tools required here aren’t tangible tools but important just the same. Parents need vast resources of knowledge, patience, compassion and understanding. Without those character tools parents will have a difficult go of it in dealing with their children.
And, we all know the vast array of tools required to manage a household these days. Long gone are the days when a mop, broom and bag of rags proved to be adequate for almost any job. Now, vacuums, Swiffers, Wet Jets and Miracle Erasers make our job as Domestic Goddesses much easier. Easier, but still not enjoyable in my opinion.
I’ve found that aging brings about tools I never considered needing back in the day when I thought I would always feel good and look even better. There’s something terribly humbling about realizing that your personal tools have devolved to trifocals, hearing aids, and hair dye. Fortunately, (knock on wood) I still have my teeth. Since I routinely lose my “tools” I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to spend my days searching for my teeth. This has recently been compounded by the news report of denture paste causing zinc poisoning and neuropathy.
A subtle tool for the advancing in age set is the tool of tolerance. And apparently this is not new to the current generation since I seem to remember thinking often to myself “good grief, mom……give it a rest.” I think we need to guard against the loss of this mindset tool at all cost. When we find ourselves unable to allow someone else to have an opinion, or just be themselves, we skate out on very thin ice. Danger - Danger!
It is in the differing opinions of society that conversation, debate and healthy disagreement spring up and flourish. One thing I know for sure is not everyone agrees with me all the time and that’s a good thing. But, I find it disturbing when someone in disagreement with me chooses to try to make me feel small, critical, stupid or un-Christian because I’ve dared to express my own personal opinion.
Please don’t misunderstand me, I have no problem with someone who wishes to take issue with my opinion. But, please know that if challenged, I will defend my feelings, especially if they have been expressed in a situation of my own making. Feel free to disagree with me, but don’t pop off on your own vehicle of expression and make veiled innuendos about what I’ve said.
To me this is the same as talking about me behind my back. And yes, I am guilty of doing that from time to time myself. I’m working on that and hope to have that little character flaw squelched in the not too distant future.
The really wonderful thing about writing is being able to express something that applies to me. If the topic applies to others as well, that isn’t my fault. My topics become flesh when I identify something that resonates inside my own heart and demands to be addressed for my own sake. If it rankles with someone else perhaps it means there is something there that needs to be addressed in their own existence.
And goodness knows I love a good debate. I even have been known to enjoy a really good fight from time to time. I always loved to see the end of an argument in my house when I was young. My mom would make Dad cornmeal mush for dinner. He loved mush and Mom never made it unless she was mad at him. I came to realize this was her great gesture of apology. And his big ole’ grin when the pot hit the table in front of him, indicated his total acceptance of her culinary olive branch.
You don’t have to agree with me for me to love you. We may disagree, sometimes harshly but the making up and associated acts of apology and contriteness are good for my soul. And since I’ve introduced a bit of the spiritual, it occurs to me, even God has tools. Although omnipotent, He still chooses to put some little helpers in his tool belt. The church, religion as a whole, choirs, and preachers are definitely God’s POWER tools. But His most important tools are the little nuts, bolts, nails, buttons and paper clips - the seemingly little unimportant loose pieces holding everything together.
Those little loose pieces are all of us and we are important in the overall fulfillment of God’s will. We are not put here just to admire what God makes but to help Him make it better. Even though He doesn’t need us, He WANTS us - so it is up to us to decide what kind of tool we are going to be. Some of us are hammers, constantly pounding home a point, while others are gloves handling everything with great care. God never labeled us so we must choose our own function.
My hope is that I can be a successful level. I want to be able to see more than one side of an issue and identify with everyone concerned.
And so….you ARE such a tool…………but what tool are you? Roger says he’s a pry bar, constantly uprooting something either by design or sheer brute force out of frustration. It’s important that we recognize our “toolness.”
……and how was your day? I would really like to know.
Carpenters need a wide array of good hammers, punches, levels and last but certainly not least, POWER tools. Being married to a carpenter I have come to know firsthand that a carpenter never has too many tools. Of course, in my humble opinion, the reason for all that “toolery” is their inability to keep track of their stuff. Therefore, one must have multiples of each item so there will always be one in rotation while the others have gone AWOL.
Mechanics need different tools and in their case it would seem they also need for everything to be smeared with a good coat of grease. I will interject here my firm conviction that a drop of grease the size of an English pea could quite easily cover and lubricate the entire earth. It seems to have the same reproductive abilities of coat hangers and Easter grass.
As soon as we start our little ones in school they need their own unique tools. A real sign of the changing times is proven in the advancements of student tools. Big Chief tablets, fat round red pencils, crayons that actually color in bright vivid hues, safety scissors and pots of edible paste (oh, come on you know you were guilty of that too) have been replaced by computers and stick glue.
Office workers would not be very effective without calculators, keyboards and software. Doctors must have tools to poke and probe their patient and others to help them understand the results of the aforementioned poking and probing. Teachers need tools to bring understanding to the inquiring minds of their students. And the beauty tools of the gentler sex are too numerous to mention.
Parents need tools as well. Some of the tools required here aren’t tangible tools but important just the same. Parents need vast resources of knowledge, patience, compassion and understanding. Without those character tools parents will have a difficult go of it in dealing with their children.
And, we all know the vast array of tools required to manage a household these days. Long gone are the days when a mop, broom and bag of rags proved to be adequate for almost any job. Now, vacuums, Swiffers, Wet Jets and Miracle Erasers make our job as Domestic Goddesses much easier. Easier, but still not enjoyable in my opinion.
I’ve found that aging brings about tools I never considered needing back in the day when I thought I would always feel good and look even better. There’s something terribly humbling about realizing that your personal tools have devolved to trifocals, hearing aids, and hair dye. Fortunately, (knock on wood) I still have my teeth. Since I routinely lose my “tools” I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to spend my days searching for my teeth. This has recently been compounded by the news report of denture paste causing zinc poisoning and neuropathy.
A subtle tool for the advancing in age set is the tool of tolerance. And apparently this is not new to the current generation since I seem to remember thinking often to myself “good grief, mom……give it a rest.” I think we need to guard against the loss of this mindset tool at all cost. When we find ourselves unable to allow someone else to have an opinion, or just be themselves, we skate out on very thin ice. Danger - Danger!
It is in the differing opinions of society that conversation, debate and healthy disagreement spring up and flourish. One thing I know for sure is not everyone agrees with me all the time and that’s a good thing. But, I find it disturbing when someone in disagreement with me chooses to try to make me feel small, critical, stupid or un-Christian because I’ve dared to express my own personal opinion.
Please don’t misunderstand me, I have no problem with someone who wishes to take issue with my opinion. But, please know that if challenged, I will defend my feelings, especially if they have been expressed in a situation of my own making. Feel free to disagree with me, but don’t pop off on your own vehicle of expression and make veiled innuendos about what I’ve said.
To me this is the same as talking about me behind my back. And yes, I am guilty of doing that from time to time myself. I’m working on that and hope to have that little character flaw squelched in the not too distant future.
The really wonderful thing about writing is being able to express something that applies to me. If the topic applies to others as well, that isn’t my fault. My topics become flesh when I identify something that resonates inside my own heart and demands to be addressed for my own sake. If it rankles with someone else perhaps it means there is something there that needs to be addressed in their own existence.
And goodness knows I love a good debate. I even have been known to enjoy a really good fight from time to time. I always loved to see the end of an argument in my house when I was young. My mom would make Dad cornmeal mush for dinner. He loved mush and Mom never made it unless she was mad at him. I came to realize this was her great gesture of apology. And his big ole’ grin when the pot hit the table in front of him, indicated his total acceptance of her culinary olive branch.
You don’t have to agree with me for me to love you. We may disagree, sometimes harshly but the making up and associated acts of apology and contriteness are good for my soul. And since I’ve introduced a bit of the spiritual, it occurs to me, even God has tools. Although omnipotent, He still chooses to put some little helpers in his tool belt. The church, religion as a whole, choirs, and preachers are definitely God’s POWER tools. But His most important tools are the little nuts, bolts, nails, buttons and paper clips - the seemingly little unimportant loose pieces holding everything together.
Those little loose pieces are all of us and we are important in the overall fulfillment of God’s will. We are not put here just to admire what God makes but to help Him make it better. Even though He doesn’t need us, He WANTS us - so it is up to us to decide what kind of tool we are going to be. Some of us are hammers, constantly pounding home a point, while others are gloves handling everything with great care. God never labeled us so we must choose our own function.
My hope is that I can be a successful level. I want to be able to see more than one side of an issue and identify with everyone concerned.
And so….you ARE such a tool…………but what tool are you? Roger says he’s a pry bar, constantly uprooting something either by design or sheer brute force out of frustration. It’s important that we recognize our “toolness.”
……and how was your day? I would really like to know.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Ugly Glasses
After years and years of losing things and spending hours every day looking in obscure places, I have finally figured out what the secret of losing and finding. If something has value, chances are you are going to misplace it or lose it altogether. We’ve probably all had something that we truly loved or treasured only to have it disappear from our lives, either temporarily or permanently.
I continue to be stunned at the number of old stray dogs that wander around surviving all sorts of dangers and conditions. And then, know firsthand the heart breaking loss of a little dog that meant everything to my daughter, my granddaughters and me.
People driving around in vehicles I like to call POS never seem to have an accident to put that poor rolling wreck out of its’ misery. But, you take a car someone really takes care of - both internally and externally and there is an accident just waiting to pull a demo derby on your treasure. And it is almost a given there will not be an insurance policy in force to help salve your injured spirit.
I’ve had neighbors actually keeping farm animals in their backyard inside the city limits. The joy of listening to a rooster crow all day is slightly diminished when one doesn’t have the rest of the “country” ambiance to insulate it. Yet, nothing is done about the barnyard. But, let my dogs have one measly little marathon bark fest in response to barnyard fowl and suddenly all the neighbors are involved in city government.
One of my scariest moments of losing happened when I was babysitting my granddaughter, Audrey. She and I were sitting side by side on the couch watching TV when she disappeared into thin air! I turned around to talk to her and she was gone. It was obvious she was gone as she would not answer me when I called, nor could I find her.
The short version of this story is she was hiding in almost plain sight, but I could not “see” her. She eventually responded to a bribe of watching her favorite movie but not before I had desperately searched for her everywhere including my bread machine.
I can’t count the number of times a day I look for my phone, wallet, keys or glasses. Of all the things misplaced daily, the glasses are the most dangerous. If I have my glasses I can usually track down the other items after frustrating games of hide and seek. But, since I have to have glasses to find glasses, their disappearance is the most problematic.
At last count, I had four pair of glasses – three prescriptions and one pair of questionable appeal. My ugly glasses or UGs as I call them, came about during a shopping trip in Amarillo with two good friends. I was not mentally in an “all there” frame of mind and had managed to get escape without my glasses.
Me on a shopping trip is dangerous on its’ own, without my glasses the results could be apocalyptic. So, I decided to buy a pair of those “easy reader” glasses. In hindsight I am wondering if I was truly mentally ill or maybe chemically enhanced because I bought the most hideous pair of glasses imaginable.
Peacock blue plastic nightmares I probably thought would bring out the fading blue of my eyes, are shockers! The first time the “hubalump” saw them, he actually did a double take and that was interesting because he typically doesn’t move that fast. Nor is he usually that observant.
But, as ugly as these ocular aids are, I’ve come to love them. The reason I love them is they never ever hide from me. At every second of every day they are readily available. You just have to embrace that kind of dedication.
Not only do they refuse to be lost, they appear to be “unbreakable” as well. Recently while sitting on my bed, watching TV and playing Farmtown (a guilty pleasure) on my laptop, I noticed a most uncomfortable feeling in my posterior. I tried re-shifting my weight thinking perhaps I’d been there long enough to develop a pressure point but that didn’t relieve my discomfort.
After several moments of deep “seated” pain, I stood and discovered I had been sitting on my ugly glasses. Okay, some of you have seen me….this could have and SHOULD have meant the demise of my UGs. But no. They were completely whole, they were in fact not even bent.
So, now I have to wonder. Since my ugly glasses have achieved importance and no small degree of affection in my life, does this mean they will suffer the same fate of all other things valued? I fully expect to “lose” them now so I am appealing to Denise and Karen. Please revisit that cute little shop and pick up a spare pair of truly appalling glasses just in case.
I have no doubt that any moment now I’m going to need a replacement for my beloved ugly glasses so I know I can count on you who love me to “fix” me.
PS – just as I was about to send this article winging on its’ way – my UGs turned up missing. Step into my tent dearie and let me read YOUR future – I just put a fresh shine on my crystal ball……now where DID I put my turban?
I continue to be stunned at the number of old stray dogs that wander around surviving all sorts of dangers and conditions. And then, know firsthand the heart breaking loss of a little dog that meant everything to my daughter, my granddaughters and me.
People driving around in vehicles I like to call POS never seem to have an accident to put that poor rolling wreck out of its’ misery. But, you take a car someone really takes care of - both internally and externally and there is an accident just waiting to pull a demo derby on your treasure. And it is almost a given there will not be an insurance policy in force to help salve your injured spirit.
I’ve had neighbors actually keeping farm animals in their backyard inside the city limits. The joy of listening to a rooster crow all day is slightly diminished when one doesn’t have the rest of the “country” ambiance to insulate it. Yet, nothing is done about the barnyard. But, let my dogs have one measly little marathon bark fest in response to barnyard fowl and suddenly all the neighbors are involved in city government.
One of my scariest moments of losing happened when I was babysitting my granddaughter, Audrey. She and I were sitting side by side on the couch watching TV when she disappeared into thin air! I turned around to talk to her and she was gone. It was obvious she was gone as she would not answer me when I called, nor could I find her.
The short version of this story is she was hiding in almost plain sight, but I could not “see” her. She eventually responded to a bribe of watching her favorite movie but not before I had desperately searched for her everywhere including my bread machine.
I can’t count the number of times a day I look for my phone, wallet, keys or glasses. Of all the things misplaced daily, the glasses are the most dangerous. If I have my glasses I can usually track down the other items after frustrating games of hide and seek. But, since I have to have glasses to find glasses, their disappearance is the most problematic.
At last count, I had four pair of glasses – three prescriptions and one pair of questionable appeal. My ugly glasses or UGs as I call them, came about during a shopping trip in Amarillo with two good friends. I was not mentally in an “all there” frame of mind and had managed to get escape without my glasses.
Me on a shopping trip is dangerous on its’ own, without my glasses the results could be apocalyptic. So, I decided to buy a pair of those “easy reader” glasses. In hindsight I am wondering if I was truly mentally ill or maybe chemically enhanced because I bought the most hideous pair of glasses imaginable.
Peacock blue plastic nightmares I probably thought would bring out the fading blue of my eyes, are shockers! The first time the “hubalump” saw them, he actually did a double take and that was interesting because he typically doesn’t move that fast. Nor is he usually that observant.
But, as ugly as these ocular aids are, I’ve come to love them. The reason I love them is they never ever hide from me. At every second of every day they are readily available. You just have to embrace that kind of dedication.
Not only do they refuse to be lost, they appear to be “unbreakable” as well. Recently while sitting on my bed, watching TV and playing Farmtown (a guilty pleasure) on my laptop, I noticed a most uncomfortable feeling in my posterior. I tried re-shifting my weight thinking perhaps I’d been there long enough to develop a pressure point but that didn’t relieve my discomfort.
After several moments of deep “seated” pain, I stood and discovered I had been sitting on my ugly glasses. Okay, some of you have seen me….this could have and SHOULD have meant the demise of my UGs. But no. They were completely whole, they were in fact not even bent.
So, now I have to wonder. Since my ugly glasses have achieved importance and no small degree of affection in my life, does this mean they will suffer the same fate of all other things valued? I fully expect to “lose” them now so I am appealing to Denise and Karen. Please revisit that cute little shop and pick up a spare pair of truly appalling glasses just in case.
I have no doubt that any moment now I’m going to need a replacement for my beloved ugly glasses so I know I can count on you who love me to “fix” me.
PS – just as I was about to send this article winging on its’ way – my UGs turned up missing. Step into my tent dearie and let me read YOUR future – I just put a fresh shine on my crystal ball……now where DID I put my turban?
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