Sacramental Day

I'm almost too high to write right now (plus I'm drinking my in-all-ways-bad mocha). Rojo was just Baptized and received his First Holy Communion. I wish all of you reading this blog could have been there, and thankfully, many, many of you were.

Rojo started his march towards receiving these Sacraments this winter, and enjoyed the process tremendously. Loved the other kids in his class. Loved the sponsors (fellow eighth grade students, many of them), loved the teachers, loved the teacher assistants, loved it up one side and down another. "I will miss RCIA," he said. I think he'd like to go every other Thursday from 3:30 to 5:00 for the rest of his life (and don't think for a minute that my wheels aren't already turning how I can make that dream a reality in some way).

Of course I worried. Worried that he would not put the host in his mouth for the First Communion (with the entire church looking on). Worried that he'd freak out at the cup. Worried that although we were assured by the priest (repeatedly) that he would only "sprinkle" him and not "dunk" him, that somehow he'd get too wet and/or worry about being too wet, and again, freak out. Worried that our non-Catholic family would be uncomfortable being in front of the whole church as Rojo received his First Communion, and knew it would break his heart if they weren't there, yet worried about their comfort level, too. Worried for months. Sent 1,000 e-mails. Got consoled 1,000 times. "It'll all work out," was told over and over.

"I will take the host, but I will not drink the wine," Rojo told me repeatedly. "I am fourteen. Fourteen-year-olds do not drink wine." How was I supposed to argue with that? Nonetheless, when it dawned on me he was the ONLY one receiving First Holy Communion today and all eyes would be on him, I wanted him to take the cup. Razzle Dazzle saved the day, "Hey, Rojo, just fake it. Take the cup up to your mouth, but don't take a sip!" Brilliant. Then I sent up a prayer that the person "assigned" to hold the cup would be our principal, who totally gets him (and "it").

And of course, all the worry was in vain. Not only did he NOT freak out in the least, he pretty much rocked it. Fair to say there wasn't a dry eye in the place when after we, his parents and his godparents and the priest anointed him with oil, he gave a big ear-to-ear grin and flashed us with the thumbs up sign.

It only went up from there. Father took Rojo's success very seriously and thought of details I could not have thought of. "I will have Razzle Dazzle and Rosie join him in the font. I will have them help me baptize him. I will do 'In the name of the Father,' then they will do the Son and Holy Spirit." Rojo's truest and bluest (and that is saying something because every single member of his class would have been happy to take on that role and would have been super special, too), climbed in that font, and shared in the blessing. Shared in the sprinkling. Shared in the holiness. When it was over Father helped him up out of the font and he stood on the ledge, facing out at the congregation. The music leader began to sing and play his guitar and Rojo raised both his arms (high), moving them all over as if conducting. Pure joy was on his face. When the music ended Rojo shouted (yes, shouted), "AMEN!" There was laughter. There was applause. There were tears and I'm afraid some ugly crying, too, and that was just from ME.

Later Razzle Dazzle said to me, "That was the closest I've ever gotten to crying tears of joy."

Then there were all the other things I should have thought about and totally didn't. Not to worry. Kathleen thought of asking someone to come and take pictures. Two brilliant photographers came and captured the whole thing. And of course, the principal came up to me right before the Mass and asked, "Did you assign anyone special to be Eucharistic Ministers?"

"I was hoping you would be," I said, then I told her about Plan Fake. She made the necessary arrangements and there she was. "Amen," Rojo said, clear as a bell when he received the host from Father. Then he moved over to the principal and did a great fake, after which, also clear as a bell he said, "Did I fake it?"

The eighth grade moms took it upon themselves to plan a little reception afterwards in the classroom. I didn't lift a finger. I just showed up and got to bask in the glory.

STM, Razzle Dazzle, Rosie, Rojo, godparents and I processed out with Father, very emotional looking around the church at all the people that love my boy. Not just like him. Not just put up with him. Not just being nice. LOVE him. Kathleen turned to one mom after we were out and said, "What did you think?"

She answered, "That that's what it's all about."

Amen.

Gainfully Employed

Both of my kids, count 'em, two out of two, have summer jobs! Woohoo actually started hers Wednesday - a part time job that she'll do after school and on weekends, then this summer, and hopefully on into next school year. It's right up her alley and she got the job 100% on her own accord! Not enough can be made of this. Money - a powerful motivator! Turns out that no, the $16/month I give her isn't quite doing it!

Today I took Rojo to visit a preschool in our neighborhood. The woman runs it out of her home, just blocks from ours. And get this: she is a retired special ed teacher. You know why, right? Because there are no accidents. That's why. She and I had been talking about this possibility for almost a year, and today he "auditioned," so to speak, and got the "job." It's still a job when the mom pays the employer to pay the kid, right?

Rojo is high as a kite - has his calculator out and is figuring out how many total hours he'll work this summer, if he works approximately 20 hours (ALLELUIA!!!) a week. "Mom, I will read to the kids, and I will play with them, and I will make sure they stay safe, and I'll help them with their snacks, and I will teach them expressions."

"Don't teach them sassy expressions, okay?"

"Mom, of course I am not going to teach them sassy expressions. They are three, four and five. That is my best area. Those are the ages I'm really good with. Of course I will not teach them to be sassy. I will just have this job for five years until I move to Anaheim and have my five kids. This job will really help me get ready for having my five kids."

He's already looking through the house deciding what might be fun to donate to the preschool: his old Little Tykes basketball hoop he hasn't played with for years, but I'm too attached to to give away, books, puzzles, etc. For this cause I'm happy to bring the stuff by the truckload!

For the first time in years I am not dreading summer. It's going to be fine. It's going to be, actually, really great.


* Photo from http://topnews.net.nz

Wouldn't Miss it For the World

There is a boy in Rojo's class we will call J. The J stands for his name, it stands for joy, and it stands for the Jesus he portrayed in a living Stations of the Cross on Good Friday. Neither kid of mine had school that day, and we had a busy day planned full of check, checking things to do, including getting Woohoo a prom dress, taking Rojo to visit a preschool in which I am hoping to get him involved, etc., etc., etc.

Found out that my boy J. was Jesus and that changed the whole game plan. I wouldn't miss that for the world, I thought, soon as I heard about it. We did go, and it was worth it all, because nobody portrays an enlightened being more than this boy, pretty much because he is an enlightened being.

On Saturday night when STM and I entered the church for our big night, WHO was the very first greeter standing at the door, smiling from ear-to-ear, wearing the brightest and most handsome Easter shirt and tie you ever did see? Yes. J. "Oh, J.," I said, "I am SO glad you are here tonight!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said to me. And I believe that to be true. I also believe the night would not have been quite so special had my boy J. not been there with his beam on.

This morning I will leave the house early and have the privilege of watching him present his 8th grade Independent Learning Project: ballroom dancing, whereupon I will try not to ugly cry as he beams some more, while dancing beautifully with his lovely partner.

Some people think J. has special needs.

Some people think J. is one of the few people on the planet that gets it.

I'm one of the latter. I will be there this morning, J. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

The Three Jewels

Thich Nhat Hahn, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, had something to do with my becoming Catholic.  In his book, Living Buddha, Living Christ (which I highly recommend to every human on the planet), he spoke of the Three Jewels of Buddhism: the Buddha (awakened or enlightened one)  the Dharma (teachings) and the Sangha (community of practitioners). While talking about practicing mindful living he says, "The best way to practice is with a Shanga: the collective energy of mindfulness deepens the practice. The presence of the Sangha is a protection and an empowerment, and this presence sustains us during the rest of the week as well." Regardless of any religious orientation of one form or another, to be most helpful, a person needs to have all three: an enlightened master, the teachings of that/those masters, and then a community in which to practice the teachings of the enlightened master.

Drawn to both Buddhism and Catholicism for years, the fact of the matter remained, I had a built-in community for one, and not for the other. Not only did I have a built-in community, I already had one foot firmly planted in it for a dozen years, and so many of the men and women I've chosen to journey with in this lifetime are part of that community. They are the friends I want to grow old with. They were already my Sangha, my faith community, but I had not embraced what was right in front of me all the time.

As I progressed through the process and more and more people learned I'd (finally) decided to join, the welcoming, the celebrating and the love. was really overwhelming. Had any of these people (or priest) put the screws to us, we would have run in the other direction, but their patient, gentle, we-can-go-either-way-with-you approach worked for STM and me.

In the end (and in the beginning, as it is with endings and beginnings), it was what Mary was calling me to do. Someone pivotal introduced me to Mary several years ago, and She's been calling me towards her in this direction ever since. I don't believe she calls people to be Catholic, necessarily, but I totally believe she calls people toward the Light, and for me, She is present and alive in this church, and that totally works for me in a very big way.

Chose Mary for my confirmation name and as the priest (liberally) anointed me with chrism oil that was perfumed and out-of-this-world, he blessed me by that name. That was a moment that I will never forget.  Kathleen was my sponsor (she was so my sponsor long before I named her my sponsor, but that pretty much goes without saying). After being anointed and welcomed into the faith, we turned and hugged. Our new Mary necklaces made for each of us by another Mary-loving holy person, touching gently, neck to neck. Kathleen, a woman that epitomizes a blessed mother, embracing me into her faith of 49 years, one that she never for one second tried to talk me into joining, but by her steadfast example, showed me the way.

Resurrection

Happy Easter!

Thank you for coming back! Thank you for waiting for me! Thank you for telling me you missed me, I missed you, too!

Really enjoyed my break. It was time. It was helpful. Learned a few things about myself, my blogging habits, things I want to keep about those habits and things I need to switch up. Thought a lot about comments, those that I receive and those that I leave. Have decided, for now at least, to disable comments and not leave comments. I want to read for the pure pleasure of reading. I want to write for the pure pleasure of writing. I will probably miss your comments way more than is healthy, which is kind of the whole point.

Lots of things have happened in the last 40+ days, and I'm excited to share them all with you. Here's a little Top 10 list to whet your appetites:

TOP 10 NEW THINGS SINCE THE LAST TIME I "SAW" YOU:

10.  I have rediscovered the joys of a Starbucks mocha, and am going to have to go through a whole detox/withdrawal process because I do not need the fat/calories/dairy/sugar/caffeine/expense.

9. Woohoo has her driver's license! She's a really good driver and having another driver in the family is big and wonderful!

8. Worked on my book. Still needs work. Better than it was. Know the problems, not sure how or if I want to fix them. Okay with not knowing. Okay with working on it through the ambivalence. Like seeing my own process right before my eyes, and realizing that yes, I've "moved" from where I was when I started writing it, and I could go on writing/revising it forever, but at some point that particular story is as done as it's going to be, although my reflection and response to that story will forever evolve.

7. Went to a memorial service for an almost-eight-year-old little girl. Heartbreaking. Church was full of parents hugging their children - you could just see how precious and fragile they realized life is.

6. Visited a college with Woohoo and decided that yes, college really is just as good as I remember it and yes, I would go back in a heartbeat, and yes, I am jealous, and yes, she will be ready, and yes, we will be ready, too, and yes, it will be weird, and yes, it will be good.

5. Rojo is having a growth spurt and has discovered the joy of naps! Need I say more?

4. Rojo is being baptized this week and receiving his first communion!

3. Rojo's two truest and bluest friends are sponsoring him and are going to actively partake in the process!

2. STM and I are now full Catholics, as of last night at the Easter Vigil. Took us forever, but once we decided, we were excited and committed. Right move for us at the right time. Loved the process. Loved the other people we met and by whom we were educated.

1. Not enough has been made of the various "stones" being rolled away - wherever and whatever they are.

Amen.



* Photo from http://www.gnmagazine.org

Good Enough

For years and years I dreamed of becoming a bestselling author. Wasn't enough to be a writer with an audience, no, I needed, wanted and worked towards being a bestselling author. Through that quest I met a handful of bestselling authors which, at the time, did nothing to take the shine off that dream. That was what I wanted, that was the goal, that was the be all end all and anything less was not worth pursuing.

The dream has changed. The purpose of writing has changed. The subject of the writing has changed. Everything has changed. Now I have a "new manuscript", which must remain in quotes as much of the work is not new but re-worked, and to call the collection of pages a "manuscript" is taking liberties. Be that as it may, I have a body of work and I am committed to "finishing" it, however that looks and whatever that means. It is enough that I finish it. It is enough that I put it in a drawer and twenty years from now Woohoo reads it and it helps her gain perspective. It is enough if five of my closest friends read it just to make me happy.

It no longer needs to sell. It no longer needs to make me a nickel. It definitely doesn't need to make me rich and I've decided famous is a curse, not a blessing.

And it most definitely does not need to be the best of anything. Not my best work. Not the best writing in the world. Not a demonstration of what I've learned or been told makes writing go from good to best. Just good enough.

We are about to embark on the season of Lent - 40 days of reflection and "fasting" before Easter. After much consideration I have decided to give up blogging for 40+ days. I will not post and I will not read blogs. Instead, I will use that time to take my "new manuscript" and "finish" it. I will take it from the stage it is in now and do either very little or very much to alter it, I haven't decided yet. What I have decided is that I need more time to decide about all that, time I am not currently devoting to that. I want to leisurely read through it and quiet myself enough to hear what it is that remains to be said on the page, hear what needs to be removed, and hear what is good enough.

See you in about 40 days.

Love.

Worry

According to Merriam-Webster, worry is defined as:

¹wor·ry

 verb \ˈwər-ē, ˈwə-rē\

wor·riedwor·ry·ing

Definition of WORRY

transitive verb

1

dialect British : choke, strangle

2

a : to harass by tearing, biting, or snapping especially at the throatb : to shake or pull at with the teeth worrying a rat>c : to touch or disturb something repeatedlyd : to change the position of or adjust by repeated pushing or hauling

3

a : to assail with rough or aggressive attack or treatment :tormentb : to subject to persistent or nagging attention or effort

4

: to afflict with mental distress or agitation : make anxious

intransitive verb

1

dialect British : strangle, choke

2

: to move, proceed, or progress by unceasing or difficult effort : struggle

3

: to feel or experience concern or anxiety : fret <worryingabout his health>

— wor·ried·ly adverb

— wor·ri·er noun

— wor·ry·ing·ly adverb

Hard to read through that list and see any upside, and good, any point whatsoever in worrying, no matter how you define it. We had a guest priest a week or so ago, and he talked about the subject of worrying. He said that there is even a definition of "teen" that means "to worry."

Went to a big event on Saturday and saw two friends I hadn't seen since November. In November we were all wound up about different things going on in our lives, things, of course, over which we had no control but a whole lot of worry over. We checked in with each other about how each of those big concerns had played out. They had all worked themselves out better than fine, perfectly, one might say, if one believed in the concept of perfect. I prefer to think of "perfect" as "according to a higher plan."

"So, why were we so worried?" one of us asked the others rhetorically. "Let's give up worrying for Lent," another suggested. We raised our glasses, clinked, and swore to give it up entirely for Lent. For approximately 40 days we would not worry. Of course we are doomed to fail, and of course the idea that we could even try it was easier when we were together and had already had a glass (or three) of wine. However, we vowed to be more mindful of our worrying, and to look at it as it came up (and up and up and up) and say, "No, at this moment I am going to choose not to worry," then we'd offer a prayer of thanks that we knew all would be well, all would, in fact, be "perfect."

* Photo from www.bars-and-bartending.com

Note to Self

"As you close your eyes,
sink into stillness.
Let these periods of rest and respite
reassure your mind
that all its frantic fantasies
were but the dreams of fever
that has passed away.
Let it be still
and thankfully accept its healing.
Nor more fearful dreams will come,
now that you rest in God."

- From A Course in Miracles

(Workbook, page 193)

* Photo from flickr.com

Inventory

I have a friend going through the 12-Steps, and we were discussing the fourth step, which involves taking a searching, fearless moral inventory. I'll admit to having some baggage around the 12-Steps, but that is only because the people in my life that "did" them, didn't really "do" them, and well, that is just not that helpful. Nonetheless, this person is committed to doing them, and not enough can be made of any person wanting to better themselves and taking big steps and putting tremendous effort into doing so.

I recently went to the second part of my moral decision making class, which is part of a greater class that I am taking, classes to become Catholic, as it turns out. After a 48-year push-pull with Catholicism, I have decided to stop pulling, stop pushing, and let go. Letting go has led me to what was right in front of me all along, a community of which I am already a part and want to commit to remaining a part of. While learning and uncovering more about what makes us make decisions, I realized I was putting a lot of energy into making a non-decision.

Last night, after discussing "fearless moral inventories" with my friend, I dreamed I worked in a retail store and was assigned the job of inventory. I was counting and sorting all night long as I tossed and turned. I'm pretty sure a moral inventory is more than counting. I'm thinking it's quite literally, taking stock. What is there? Do you like what's there? What is missing? Why? Where did it go? How do you get it? Do you want it? Do you need it?

I'm thinking one does not need to be in a 12-step program to find benefit in taking a fearless and searching moral inventory. We're all recovering from something. We're all in one place moving towards something, and perhaps by taking stock, we can better define what that something is.


Photo from: www.familyhelptree.com

Mary Moment

I was typing away on a future post (you'll see later why it needs to come later), and as I was typing one part of my brain kept trying to name it. I jumped over, threw in a title and kept typing. "No," that stubborn part of the brain said, that's not it, that's not the gist of what you're saying. I threw in something else that sprung to mind and kept typing, hoping all parts of my brain might choose to converge for 3-4 minutes. "NO," it insisted. Finally, I stopped for a second, read back through what I was typing and reflected on what it was I was trying to say. "Good Enough" I finally put in the title box.

Back to the typing, back to the iPod set on "random" (no such thing, of course), and what, what, WHAT is the very next song to start playing? "Good Enough" by Rose Cousins.

Go take a listen and see if the song has a message for you... I'm thinking it might.

Anxious

I'm just anxious. There are reasons for the anxiety that I'm quite clear about and make perfect sense (you don't need a list), and reasons that are nothing short of ridiculous, but are nonetheless causing me great angst. I spent a full night tossing and turning over what Rojo will wear to high school IN SEPTEMBER, because he currently wears a uniform with elastic waist thingies that allow him to just pull them up and never have to button or unbutton, or bother with a belt. When Rojo has free dress he wears elastic waisted sweat pants. In high school I want him to wear jeans, just like the other boys, and I've yet to see a pair of elastic waisted jeans in the men's department, actually, I have, but not in the stores/men's departments from which I intend to make a purchase. Got myself all in a stew about it before STM noticed I was a wreck and asked me what my problem was.

"What will Rojo wear to high school?" I blurted out.

"You mean, in SEPTEMBER?" he asked, incredulously. "Don't you have things you need to worry about that are going to happen today or tomorrow? Why are you on September??"

Well, there is no short answer to that question. I have been "on" September 2011 for about four years, and there is no question that is a major underlying cause of my anxiety. When STM realized that yes, indeed, the sheer panic was coming from something that was over six months away, he quickly came to a reasonable solution. "We'll just buy him jeans that are long enough, and have a tailor take them in, or put in elastic somehow so he can still just pull them up without unbuttoning them or wearing a belt."

Hadn't thought of that.

And therein lies my problem. I have 1001 worries that go head-to-head with the elastic waist crisis, but zero solutions. I cannot get my brain to unhook from the panic, long enough to explore solutions.

Often when I get myself all worked up about nothing, I think of all the people in my community dealing with serious, life and death type issues. I couldn't throw a stone from my front porch without it hitting someone with MUCH bigger problems than I am dealing with. And while that really helps me on one level, it only adds to the anxiety on another, then I have just one more thing to feel anxious about, my lack of appreciation, realization and gratitude of my relatively easy life.

Three years ago I withdrew from my anti-anxiety meds. I hesitated at the time chronicling that whole thing, but I'm glad that I did. Ever since, I've had people come up to me and tell me about their own anxiety, their own medications, and their own withdrawal stories. The withdrawal alone was enough to make me swear I'd never again consider going back on any SSRI. I am still not considering an SSRI, but the tools that have served me well, for the most part, these past three years, are not quite enough now. I need more tools. The tools I add may include going back to yoga, may include more time on the meditation cushion with mindful breathing, may include a visit to the naturopath for something to help, may include starting Beer O'Clock a little earlier each day, I'm not sure just yet. Right now all that I know is that I'm anxious, and perhaps touching that with gentle awareness is all that I'm called to do at this time.


* Photo from http://www.erikbohlin.net

Limited Skills

I am very, very bad at a very long list of things, and as it turns out, many of those are pretty much life skills: cooking, even a crude sense of direction and with alarming increase, memory of any sort.

When I was visiting Terry I was wiping off the kitchen counter with a soapy sponge. “I wish you lived here,” she said with sincerity.

“It’s one of the very few things I do well,” I said, to which she said, “True,” which is true, and she is the truth teller, and that is just one of the many things she does well. I was not offended. It is true. I am excellent at wiping down a surface. Now, while that comes in handy several (hundreds) of times a day, it is not all that great or useful in the overall scheme of things.

I honestly don’t think I am any longer hirable. I have no job skills to speak of, and forget about being technologically minded. There is literally no job on the planet, that I am aware of, for which I am qualified.

Don’t get me wrong; I think I’m it on a stick. This is not about my self-esteem, which is excellent and in very good working order. I have just slowly and surely come to understand and accept that I have my own set of challenges, and that is okay. One of the many gifts of having a child with challenges, is over time, you just don’t care anymore about the things at one time you cared very much about: keeping up, looking good, and being normal.

My conversation with Terry turned into what I am good at, and the thing that is most interesting to me about that process, was not only how hard it was to come up with a list of more than a few things, but to look at the list and be good with it. Here's what I mean: what I am good at, I am very good at, and recognizing my strengths and not only acknowledging them but being good with them, was harder than recognizing and being good with my weaknesses. Why is it that we, as humans, find it easier to list and accept our weaknesses, than to list and accept our strengths, not only accept, but really step into? Really become our highest selves by embracing our path, the one our strengths help illuminate?

Family

I've been staying at my cousin's for the last few days. We look enough alike to be sisters. We have some of the same mannerisms, and I see and hear her sisters and mother, and my mother, in many of the things she says and does. It's like a part of you, or many parts of you, are reflected back to you for your review and consideration.

It's weird and comforting to see that someone else buys the exact same soap, same shoes, cooks with the same cook ware, laughs at the same things, enjoys the same music, buys the same brands of food, makes the same choices about a million other things for the same reasons.

When separated by thousands of miles, very different lives and different situations entirely, it's nice to know there are others walking around the planet that get you, that you get, even if you don't get to get together very often at all.


* Photo from http://www.expertclick.com

I am at Hopeful Parents today, thank you for clicking over!

Yes, Dear

I was at a class last night on moral decision making - fascinating! We broke into small groups and were to discuss how is it we make our decisions? Consensus? Do we just do whatever is going to make the other person(s) happy? Do we do what others tell us to do? What our parents would do? What our parents would NOT do? What our religion tells us is right or wrong? WHAT goes into our decisions and how mindful are we of all that goes into them, if anything? One of the things we discussed was the sheer knee jerk reaction that drives many of our decisions.

One thing the women in our group agreed on (and Kathleen and I were "the" women in the group, so this is no surprise), is that we no longer make decisions the way we once did, which was primarily to please. We now (for the most part) try to first buy ourselves some time before making any big decision so we can really sit with it and fully process, and we check in with our bodies to see what they have to say about the matter, as we all know, the body never lies.

One man in the group said he just makes his decisions. He also has a history of trying to please and do what a good son/husband/employee/etc. would do, but is working now to be more mindful in all regards, especially more mindful of what he wants and doesn't want. Another man in the group said he gives no consideration whatsoever to what others want or think or believe or expect of him.

The conversation veered into the influence our spouse has over our decisions. One man joked, "When I got married the priest said the key to marriage boiled down to two words, 'Yes, dear.'" I object to this for a thousand reasons, but the biggest is that I want no part of a marriage that is "successful" because one person is dominated by the other. I also resent that this advice is historically given to men, and that assumes all women are shrews and that the only way to live with a shrew is just to agree with her. I know plenty of marriages where the one saying, "Yes, dear," is the wife, and still, not my idea of a great marriage.

Now, by the same token, there are a million times in a marriage where the kindest, wisest and sanest response to a partner may very well be, "Yes, dear," but that must come out of wisdom, and not out of fear or avoidance, the no answer answer must be a decision, not a default.

Later STM and I were talking about the whole "Yes, dear," thing and he said, "I don't think those two words are the secret to marriage. I think the secret to marriage is three words, 'Thank you for __________'"

To which I said, "Yes, dear!"

A Day to One's Self

Yesterday was my birthday, and I had many sweet and wonderful offers to do many sweet and wonderful things to celebrate. In years past I have enjoyed celebrating the big day in a big way, but this year I knew for sure I wanted to low key it.

I spent the entire day doing what, and only what, I wanted. It was heaven. I went on an extra long walk with Kathleen. I didn't shower until noon, then once I finally did, I stayed in my bathrobe another couple of hours. I got to leisurely read my e-mails and Facebook greetings, open my cards that came in the mail, and just hang out with myself for the day. I read a People magazine (didn't know 75% of the people in there, but still enjoyed the heck out of it), I napped, I talked on the phone to my dear friend that called, it was just wonderful.

We farmed both kids out for the night, STM came home early from work, we ordered a pizza, drank a bottle of wine that cost more than $5 (but not that much more), visited, laughed, then watched a good movie ("Secretariat"). We were in jammies and ready for "The Bachelor" by 8:30, which was awesome because we were watching what the DVR had recorded while it continued to record, thus avoiding all commercials entirely and still getting us to bed at a reasonable hour (any hour after 10 is unreasonable).

Happy.


* Photo from http://cardiophile.com

For My Valentine

STM,

I love you, will you be my Valentine? Here is a Top 10 list to sweeten the deal:

TOP 10 THINGS I LOVE ABOUT STM

10. Chiseled good looks

9.  Never gets annoyed with me for asking him for directions, and is willing to provide said directions when called in a panic, and can figure out where I am and where I need to go, despite my failure to provide such helpful information

8. Does not throw old "stuff" back in my face, even though he has some good "stuff" from which to choose

7. Has empathy for middle aged women, one in particular

6. Sees the big picture in all things

5. An angel in the lives of many

4. A great son

3. A spiritual seeker with great insights

2. Funniest person I know (and I know some doozies)

1. The father that he is




* Photo from http://www.digitaltrends.com

Member of the Big C Club

I am now a proud member of the colonoscopy club. Yes, a couple years ahead of the big 5-0, but let's just say there was "cause." Good news is, I have a very healthy colon! Yea! Bad news is, I may never be able to look at Jell-O again!

No, seriously, the procedure itself is a complete non-event. They give you fabulous drugs that knock you out in about half a second and when you wake up it's over.

I won't go into details about the prep, but if you're someone that is due to have a colonoscopy and is putting it off because of all you've heard, let me just tell you this, ask for the split dose. Schedule your procedure for late morning so you can drink the OTHER 8 glasses of solution in the morning, because I don't know how it's humanly possible to drink 16 glasses in one evening and survive to tell the tale.

The other thing I wish I'd done was ask more questions in my initial visit. They told me not to take any vitamins or supplements for a week prior to the procedure, and being the good girl that I am, I did not. Well, with the help of my wonderful naturopath, my high blood pressure and menopause are all eased by natural supplements. Not being on them for a solid week was not fun, plus I caught a cold, the first one in years, because I was no longer taking all that Vitamin C (2,000 to 3,000 mg. a day). I wish I'd advocated more for myself and learned more about what could possibly have been the harm of taking those at least until the day before the procedure.

If you are needing to join the Big C Club, plan it around a time you can really care for yourself before and after. The day before you will need to not do much of anything, since you won't really be eating, and will be as weak as can be and as crabby as all get out. Load up the DVR with "Jerseylicious," and make the most of it! Following your procedure, plan on sleeping and resting, again, more time with you and your DVR! I have officially reached the saturation point with the OWN network, nice as it is.

But, I am healthy, it is over, and all is good.








* Photo from www.thegeminiweb.com

Essence

While visiting Terry, I spent some time with the book, True Purpose. In it are several wonderful exercises to go through in determining why you're here. Through the process you determine your essence, your blessing and your mission. I did not read enough of the book (yet) to speak to anything besides the way of determining your essence, which goes a little something like this...

You are to ask ten trusted people, "What walks in when I walk into a room?" I've only asked three people so far and one said, "efficiency," one said, "light," and one is carefully considering her answer. When she gets around to asking me what her essence is, I will probably say "care," as she never does anything that isn't gentle and careful, something I could learn a few things about. That, of course, would not be all that she is, and not the sum total of her essence, but that for sure walks into the room with her each and every time.

I think I'll ask Woohoo and Rojo what they think, can't wait to hear their answers. It would be interesting to ask someone that you know doesn't particularly like you, but I'm not sure I'm that brave.


* Photo from http://www.orientaloutpost.com

Priorities

Rojo takes his shower at 7:00 PM on the dot, dries off, puts on his pajamas and says to me, "Mom, I just love you. I am going to tell you that again at 8:00. I am going to tell you that every hour from now on. It's important."


* Photo from www.lifeprint.com