Avoiding "Reality"

Pregnant AND a teenager?
     Fake boobs?
Pumped up lips?
     Loser boyfriend?
Don't get along well with others?
     Throw temper tantrums?
Drink too much?
     Take too many drugs?
Spend too much money?

You, TOO, can have your own "reality" television show,
     where all of this behavior is GLORIFIED
                                                     and GLAMORIZED
                                                                   and CELEBRATED!
 
The other day, one of my preschoolers told me about the episode of
     "Little House on the Prairie" she had seen the night before.
I wanted to pick her up and hold her in that moment forever. 
Oh, how I sometimes miss Charles and Caroline, Mary and Laura, and their dog, Jack! 

Kiwi

Kiwi.

Green, like the crystal clear Caribbean waters - Kiwi.

Soft breeze gently blows,  

               warm sun - kissing my nose, 

          white sand tickles my toes . . . 

Kiwi.  

Come What May

Transformer blew,
     the sky turned blue,
 and then I knew . . . "OH SHIT". 

No lights for DAYS! 
No t.v. WAVES! 
No Facebook FAVES . . . "OH SHIT"! 

Two hours later, I had a dream. 
I saw a light, I saw a beam. 
I woke and saw my lamp was on. 
Am I AWAKE? Can this be REAL?

It was, indeed, to my surprise. 
A welcome sight to my tired eyes. 
And, in the morning, Sandy was gone,
     scattered branches on the lawn. 

We were lucky. 
Some, not so much. 
Power outages, trees falling, flooding, and such.

For those in need, if you need a place to stay, 
     just hop in your car and head our way. 
And, just remember, the sun will shine again. 
As the old saying goes, 
     "come what may" . . . 
                        "come what may".   

Glass Shards

When I rubbed my hand and my fingers across his back,  through his thick, gray and white fur,
     I could feel pieces of things -
scratchy things, bumpy things, like . . . leaves, sticks, and such.   
I could not see those things; I could only FEEL them.

It felt as if my hand could get lost in his fur - so thick, and so . . .  DEEP.

How did it GET that way?

Then, I felt something sharp, and I began to pull it out - a tiny piece of glass.
I went in again, and found another piece, small and sharp.
One by one, I pulled out the tiny pieces of glass shards.

How did they GET there?

My poor dog, Charlie.

And . . . then, I woke up.    

I wonder why I had THAT dream, I thought.
Then, I remembered.
I had broken the lid of my crock pot, just the night before.
It shattered into pieces - shards of glass spilling everywhere.

And, also, I remembered that Charlie needs a haircut.      
 

. . . of the day.

Coffee Mug -

     Duck's Cottage



Weather -

     Beautiful!  Crisp, Fall morning.
Autumn colors everywhere.
Expected to warm into the 70's.



 Mood -


    Peaceful.  Mellow, but motivated.

 
Question -

     Should I quit the Boxing membership that I signed up for a month ago?
              Didn't I just say I was motivated?  But . . .

•    I have only gone 3 times, and do I see that changing in the near future?
•    In the meantime, I am spending money that I should probably be saving.  
•    If I do quit, I need to come up with another plan for exercise.
•    If I decide to quit, I need to give myself permission to do so.  

Goals -

•  Make appointments for eyes, teeth, and girl parts.  

• Mail birthday cards to my daughter and my niece.

• Dog stinks and needs a haircut.     

• Organize office area :  Sort through paperwork, get rid of clutter, make area a more creative space for writing.  

 Other thoughts - 

I wonder who has more fun running and chasing in the backyard - the dog or the squirrel?
Of course, the dog can jump on trees . . .

Ha, ha! I mean, the SQUIRREL can jump on trees.
Hmmmm.
Sudden idea for a children's story?

Possibly . . .

     possibly . . . . . . .

The Shape of a Heart

She could not speak a word of English.

Speaking, instead, with her hands,
     and those dark, expressive eyes.

I felt a "tap, tap" on my shoulder, and looked up to find her holding
      a ball of play-doh in one hand,
 a heart-shaped cookie cutter, in the other.

And, I immediately understood.

     "Do you want me to help you?" I asked.

Her eyes and her smile told me "yes".

I placed the ball of play-doh on the table, and showed her how to roll it out with the rolling pin.   

     "First, this way," I said.  "And, now, this way."

We rolled it together until it was big enough for the cookie cutter to fit.

She placed the heart on top of the dough, and together, we pressed down firmly.

      "Now, lift it up!"  I said.

And, she did.

Her face lit up, as she stared at the perfectly shaped figure,
     and traced it with her perfectly shaped finger. 

I showed her how to pull up the dough around it, leaving ONLY the heart.   

Her smile was even brighter.       

Carefully, she peeled the heart off the table,
     and held it in her hands . . .  like a treasure.

She walked around the classroom with this heart in her hands,
      just staring and smiling.    

But, soon . . . "tap, tap" on my shoulder again.

She lifted her heart up for me to see.  

She had taken her heart shaped "cookie" over to the texture table (which was filled with oats),
     and sprinkled it with oats.    

I smiled at her and thought, what a clever girl.

     "This is the most beautiful heart I have ever seen," I told her.

And, it was. 
 

Change Is Not Easy

My son, Sam, had been playing soccer with the same coach and
     some of the same kids since he was old enough to kick a soccer ball.  

That is why, at thirteen, making the decision to leave his team was such a difficult one.

He had progressed as much as he could, and in order for him to continue developing
     as a player, it was time for him to move on.   

So, on to a new group of boys, new coaches - a new philosophy.  


The practices are more frequent, for longer durations, farther away, and later at night.

At the end of the third practice, a roster is announced and, after all of that hard work,
     my son's name may or may not be on it.

So far, it has been a test of skill, hard work, and dedication.

But, so far (for my son),
                     . . .  a test of patience and heart.      

Change is not easy.  

Change can be hard.     

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 Recently, my partner and I went to one of our favorite restaurants,
     with our favorite ambiance, favorite wait staff . . . favorite food. 

It was a beautiful summer's eve - perfect for having a meal on their outdoor patio.

But, the patio was full.

That's okay, we thought,
     we love sitting in their quaint little "beer room",
where their awesome collection of Belgian beers are stored.


     "The beer room is closed," said the hostess (whom we did not know).
                     "We only open it when we have a full house."

     "Oh."    

So, we sat in the other room, with a waiter (whom we did not know).

And, to him, we were just strangers, sitting down for a meal. 

My partner and I make friends easily, but it just wasn't the same.

All new faces and personalities. 
     
Before, everything just clicked.

Now, it was more . . . work.  


Our waiter did not know our names, or what kind of beer to recommend.

When I ordered a beer, it was not cold,
     our appetizer was not very hot, and my meal was too salty.    


     "Business has been doing great!" said one of the owners.    

And, my partner and I couldn't be more happy for them.   

But, for us, it may never be the same.  

     Change is not easy.

     Change can be hard.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


 A friend of mine recently mentioned,
      "Sometimes, you just can't go home again" (thank you, Jill).   


And, I guess that's what it's really about.



Because, home is where we feel safe.

Home is where we feel special.

And, home is where we can usually count on things NOT changing.

Until, one day, it does.