Emotions

Some people hold tightly to their emotions. Some people hold tightly to their emotions. No, I have not had a stroke. I am not repeating myself.

Some people, hold their emotions tight, like a lover. They hold it close. They almost seem to nourish it. Feeding the flames of their pain, anxiety, fear. I am not that type of person, so I do not understand.

Some people, hold their emotions tight, like a prisoner. I prefer them at a distance. I try to avoid letting them control me. I have said before, depression is a deep, deep, well and it is hard as hell to climb out of. I just don't go there. I feel pain. I feel anxiety. I feel fear. But I limit the amount of time and energy that I spend on them. I distract myself. I make myself do something else. I know a lot of people do not understand, but I have to do what is best for my mental health. I guess they understand me, no better than I do them.

I recently came across this...

I am not perfect, but I am trying to spend more time at peace.

My summer project

I made the decision, earlier this year, to pursue my CCDW license. That is, concealed carry deadly weapon. The world is becoming a scarier place all the time. Drugs are running rampant and people will do crazy things when they are hurting for a fix. I have been told that I do not look like an easy target. But I have seen young men looking me up and down, and I don't believe it's because they are admiring me. So far, they have judged me either not vulnerable, or not worth the trouble. The older I get, the more likely they will begin to think I am an easy opportunity. I hope to prove them wrong. Yesterday, I took the 8 hour mandatory class for Kentucky. Parts were interesting. Parts were downright tedious...videos on legislation. But, need to know info. There is a 25 question, multiple choice, written test. I scored a 100. Then you have to qualify by shooting. You must hit 11 out 20 shots, in the silhouette, at 21 feet. That is my qualifying target on the left. (The arm tears are from staples). The class was given by two former police women. One of them taught shooting to police officers. The other shot competitively. They were knowledgeable and helpful in their suggestions. While shooting, the instructor was one-on-one with me, so she was able to give feedback. I lean back when shooting, instead of a forward, aggressive, stance. I am also anticipating the shot and jerking the trigger, rather than a smooth follow through. She explained that is why some of my shots go low. I thought better than explaining that I was required, by my very nature to include a couple of groin shots. She was also able to confirm my theory. She stated, that at least once, I did indeed, hit the same hole twice. It explains why I shot 24 rounds, and there are 22 holes. My shooting is not to the standard I would like it to be. But I think Mr Target Man is very, very dead.

Better ways--funerals

A friend just lost a family member. I have always hated that euphemism. But there it is. I have always hated hearing, I'm sorry, in response, as well. But sometimes, there just isn't anything else to say. Anyway, this has me thinking about when my father-in-law died. 1982. It has been so long ago and so much has changed in the way funerals are done. Thank God. I am sure there are places and people that do it the old way, how horrible. We sat for 3 days at the funeral home. Three days of viewings. Three days of condolences. Three days of awkwardness. Three days with limited sleep, emotional overload and bad food. You sat, paced, then sat some more. It was exhausting. I don't know when we moved away from that torture. I'm guessing it probably became too expensive. As opposed to someone having good common sense. As you might guess, I'm glad that tradition evolved.

Vacations

I have taken 2 weeks of vacation this year. And, for the first time ever, I have gone somewhere both weeks. I was thinking today about these vacations, kind of a compare and contrast. The first week, in February, was spent in Mexico. This last week, in May, was spent at a small cabin on a lake.

What they have in common:
They cost a lot.
They both involved being close to water.

What they did not share:
Accommodations: Mexico--luxury. Cabin--simplicity.
Food: Mexico--gourmet. Cabin--sandwiches.
Sunscreen: Mexico--faithfully. Cabin--meh.
Alcohol: Mexico--all day. Cabin--nada.
Service: Mexico--exemplary. Cabin--me.
Travel: Mexico--hours. Cabin--minutes.

There are benefits to both. I enjoyed both.
I have another week in September. No plans.

Yet.


Mexican sunrise.

Cabin sunset

Running away from home

I have, for several years, just wished to run away from home. I did not want to go far. Traveling is stressful. I did not want to go someplace where I would feel the need to do. I just wanted to kick back and relax. Someplace...quiet. But I could not find that place.

The last few days, I have spent in a small cabin on a 20 acre lake. Only 5 cabins spaced around the lake. Not all of them occupied. We rarely saw, or heard, anyone else. Thank God nobody felt the need to blare a radio. The loudest thing around was the bullfrogs, or maybe, the crows.

No internet. No phone. No computers. No neighbors. Barely TV.
Board games. Fishing. Hot tub. Porch swing. Beautiful sunsets. Nature.

And only about 40 minutes from home.

Lessons learned:

I still like my husband. In spending downtime with someone, this is important.
I would be very hungry if I had to survive, on my current knowledge, for food.
Don't leave fishing bait outside. Raccoon are very resourceful. At least it only dined on one cricket container. Not both. Generous.
Crows are apparently very smart, too. One showed up every time I grilled. I did not share. But I suspected if I had turned my back on the plate, he would have helped himself.
My life could be simpler.
It costs more, to do less.
I am still allergic to the great outdoors.
I hope I can do this more often, now that I have found a place to go.
As much as I want to run away, it's good to be home. I miss my stuff.

Mother's Day

I have mixed emotions about today. There is the, where I came from, versus, the who I want to be. I hate the sappy Hallmark type commercials, that seem to show me what a failure my life has been. This is not just Mother's Day, but every holiday. My life has never been, nor would I want it to be a Hallmark moment...well, maybe a moment, now and then. So, I see all the rose colored moments and feel sad for what I do not have.

I think my mother loved me. Fiercely. In the toxic, manipulative, possessive, jealous manner of an abuser. She wanted me all to herself, even to the point of being resentful of my father. I tried to maintain a relationship with her, until her death, but it was best managed at a distance. Physically, as well as, emotionally.

I swore that I would not be that type of mother. I am not jealous. I am not needy. I do not demand their time or undivided attention.  But, I am also aware, that perception is colored by our experiences. I hope my sons realize that I love them, but I feel that I can share them. That I feel like the more people they have, that want to spend time with them, the fuller their lives are. Neither have in-laws, yet, but I assume, someday, they will. There will be another Mom on Mother's Day. I do not need to be the center of attention. I don't want to make their lives more stressful to figure out the logistic of holidays. Come see me the day before, or the day after. Call me and let me know you're thinking of me. I'd rather spend time with you because you want to, not because some date on the calendar, or I, guilt you into it.

And I know, that so many other people feel pain today. Especially, those that have lost the mothers they were close to. Or the women that want badly to be a mom, but, for whatever reason, can't. Those, rose colored, everyone else has a perfect life commercials, have got to be hard for you, too. We should all know, deep in our hearts, that real life does not look like Hallmark or Norman Rockwell. So, why do we emotionally fall prey to it?

Anyway...

To the women, whether you are a biological Mom, adoptive Mom, step Mom, want-to-be Mom, soon-to-be Mom, substitute Mom, or pet Mom...Happy Mother's Day. Do something nice for yourself today.

Friendship...tracing backwards

A friend of mine had a very nice, non-traditional, baby shower this past weekend. Something got me thinking about how we got to that point. Not the baby, the people. Let's see if I can put this in writing.

I met Laura, through Kenny. I met Kenny through Mike and Andrea. I met Mike and Andrea at a club that I went to with a friend that I met at a LARP.

Laura's shower was at Mark and Dawn's house. Laura met Dawn because I introduced Laura to Chris and Erin. I met Chris and Erin after going to a mutual friend's Halloween party. I had met the mutual friend at the same LARP.

My sons had encouraged my participation in the LARP. I went with them. I wonder what path I would be on, it I hadn't gone, or if I hadn't stayed. They say you meet people for a reason. I wonder if our paths would have crossed any other way. Maybe.

Out of these same chance meetings, I have gained so many great people in my life. I am really lucky.

On a brighter note...

I experienced a strange excitement today at the thought of coming home to my husband. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband. We've been married 35 years. But, like anything with that type of longevity, I think we sometimes take each other for granted. We are each others favorite pair of jeans. Comfortable. Dependable. Reliable. Those are all good qualities. But sometimes, when you get too comfortable, you forget to appreciate your favorite things. Every now and then, it wouldn't hurt to dress those jeans up. I guess recent events have reminded me to not take so much for granted. We are not promised forever.

I feel abandoned

Nobody is at fault, except maybe me. Not like I'm talking to people. I'm here, talking to myself instead. Feelings are not always logical. So yes, I can feel abandoned when nobody is aware that I need them. Do I need them? No, nothing they can do. So what is it that I want?

Magic. Only answer I can come up with. I magically want someone to reach out to me and make everything better. And they say we grow out of the magical thinking age around 6. I am a few years, ahem, decades late. If I refuse to act my age, I guess I can refuse to think my age.

Sure. Is. Dark.

It is highly unusual when I can not find the silver lining. It might be so tiny that it is damn near imaginary, but I'll come up with something. I am searching for a glimmer on the horizon. Don't know enough to know how to feel, but I am waffling between optimistic and terrified. I plan. I unplan. I can't move forward...and we can never move back, not really. I am on hold. A standstill.

Stalemate.

More information soon. I don't know if it will help or make things worse. Knowing can be worse. Like going back, you can not unknow. But with more knowledge, I will know where I am headed, I hope. Uphill or downhill. There is no lateral option. Even the best possible outcome, will not be good. It will be the best of the worst. I see a very long, difficult road ahead. I guess that is better than a short difficult road, in this situation.

Checkmate.

Life Changes

They says it's inevitable. We're just going along planning a future. You kind of have to. But then out of the blue something blows it all the fuck up. Sorry, I usually warn about language. I'll warn now. Too little, too late, perhaps. Too soon to know anything. I'm just feeling really unsettled. Fresh wounds, and all that. I found myself home alone, so I sit here and write while I have the chance. This could be a bump in the road, or it could be a derailment into the abyss. Only time will tell and I have absolutely no control over anything. I'm going to have to pull my shit together. Got to be strong, again. I've done this before, and damn it I swore I'd never do it again. Fuck me.

Those moments

There always seems to be those moments that stick with you. A moment in time shared between people, that for whatever reason lives on forever. Sometimes, it's the one thing you remember under particular circumstances. I have a ton of those moments. I guess everyone does.

A few that have been on my mind lately...

It was pouring, cats and dogs as they say, so hard and sideways. People were hanging back, hiding inside the area between the doors at the mall. The stores were closing. Nobody with any sense was going out in that. We looked at each other, pulled off our sandals, and dashed across the parking lot. Laughing all the way. We looked like we'd jumped in the shower fully clothed. Drowned rats. Cats, dogs and rats.

Having a masked man beckon you. Masked, as in Scream. I asked, "Why should I follow you?" He leaned close and whispered, "Curiosity." It was the right answer, the only answer. I could not resist. To defend my sanity, I will divulge this was in a game environment, not just some random masked man...not the Lone Ranger. Actually, I should have believed the masked man's intentions were dishonorable. But, you know, curiosity. Even if it is rumored to have killed the kitty.

Don't lick me. Three little words. Three little, misdirected, words. The beginning of a beautiful friendship. She'd heard rumors, not about me. If she'd heard those, she might have run. ::wink::

Just three, for now. There are tons of those moments. 

Emotions

It is so hard to have emotions that you can not explain. Actually, I guess, that only applies to negative emotions. It is perfectly acceptable to be happy without reason. I strive to maintain high spirits. Usually, I can. But, every now and then, I seem to crash from that loft perch...without reason. Being sad or mad, because something made you feel that way, is understandable. Acceptable. But just to wake, one day, feeling...unsettled. Tired. Gloomy. Bleh. It is just unacceptable. But I am having trouble finding my motivation, to do, anything. I will not give into this. Tomorrow will be better. Will. Be. Better. I have control of how I think. I only have to convince myself. Tomorrow will be better.

Family skeletons

My mother's family has been quite the mystery to me. Her mother died when she was 3, so she didn't seem to know much about them either...or elected not to share. That's the type of person she was. A few things have popped up over the years that piqued my curiosity. I discovered this weekend, that with the help of a few websites, I could put pieces of this puzzle together. When I ran out of pieces, that way, I reached out to one of the few family members I maintain contact with. I shared what I knew, she filled in some blanks.

As I don't want to out other people's skeletons, well anymore than I already have, inadvertently, I will only identify people by their relationship to me and initials. Here goes...

I discovered my grandfather (AA) was born May 11, 1916 and died May 19, 1973. He worked at a saw mill and his highest education was listed as 5th grade. Times were different back then. My grandmother (LG) made it through the 8th grade. Born March 18, 1920, she died at the age of 24, December 7, 1944. "Female problems" was the only explanation for her death that I ever heard. Kind of broad.

LG was AA's first wife, according to birth records, they had 4 children, 2 girls and a set of twin boys. One of those girls, NDA, was my mom. The other girl, MJA, is where one of the mysteries cropped up. Back when my mom was dying, MJA was tested to be a donor, but the test came back that they were not full siblings. A medical error? This weekend research, says no. MJA confirms that she was told by a paternal aunt, that her mother was pregnant with her before she met the man listed on her birth certificate. MJA said she never had any desire to pursue the matter. I wonder if she had never believed it, until that lab test came back?

After LG's death, AA married MLB. She had a son prior to their marriage, and they had 6 children together. One of those children died, so the family legend is, when MLB fell asleep while feeding the baby and rolled over and suffocated the child. That child, named Peggy, died July 1, 1949. They eventually had another daughter, they named Peggy. I'm sorry, that's just weird.

I have, so far, solved a couple of the mysteries I started with. I have accounted for all the siblings and their parentage. I discovered after the death of LG, her children went to live with relatives. My set of twin uncles were adopted at the age of 16, when, as I was told, "some shady shit went down."

I know my mom spent some time at Maryhurst. It is now a school for troubled girls. I don't know if it was the same back then. There are still a few unanswered questions, and a few untouched sources of information, so I may be adding later on.

My relative and I have started a dialogue. We have more in common than either of us imagined. Those kind of things that people on the outside, looking in, never know about. Funny, how someone can wear one face in public and be a completely different person behind closed doors. Everyone always told me how lucky I was. How sweet my mom was. And she was, to everyone else...to their faces. Behind closed doors, she was hateful. I sometimes wonder if that is why I never developed a relationship with her family...all I ever heard was nasty stuff about them. Behind those closed door, I was never safe. She let me know exactly what she thought of me. She was physically, emotionally and verbally abusive. Makes me wonder why I started on this quest to unravel her family tree. Maybe, I thought, I'd find some explanation for the person she turned out to be. I have no doubt she had a hard life, in those early years. But it still doesn't fly. I think I'll close this chapter, maybe unfinished, but this particular history holds nothing for me.

March 25

That's the date. Not a particularly special day. Just today. It's been 3 months since Christmas, and 9 months until Christmas. Six months until the grandson's 5th birthday. Heart worm medicine day, always on the 25th. Today, I noticed just a sprinkling of yellow along the freeway. Forsythia, the harbinger of Spring...and allergy season. I noticed some trees taking on a red hue, as they bud. Before long the world will be vivid green, fresh, and new. And itchy. I love Spring, except that one little ::tickle in the throat:: thing. However, we live in the Ohio Valley. We can not assume to have escaped the clutches of Winter until after Derby...at least. It has sleeted on Derby. I know, I was there. I look forward to the flowers, even if they make me sneeze. I look forward to warmer weather, and sandals! Here is hoping for an extended, warm, dry (but not too dry) stormless, Spring. I do not like hot weather. No hurry for Summer. That's my 2 cents for March 25th.

Random thoughts

I was reminded today of having a strange man walk in the front door of my house when I was about 12. I think it was the turning moment in my life that makes me want all the doors locked. He was, essentially, harmless. Of course we did not know that. He made it about half way across the room, before my Dad backed him back out the door. The man smelled of alcohol and was rambling about the gospel. We discovered, later, that he lived several houses down. Weird how stuff like that comes to mind.

Recently, I was thinking about a dog of mine. Jazz was a big, German Shepherd/Husky mix. One day I was out in the yard with Jazz, when he had to decide between something he wanted and minding me. With obvious regret, he minded me. There is a kid out there that doesn't know how lucky he was, or how hard it was for Jazz...and me. We only have control, when it is given to us. Allowed. Do you ever think about that? Jazz allowed me to keep him from mauling that kid. He wanted to take that kid out. He was capable of it. It is unlikely that I could have physically stopped it. I yelled, "Jazz, no!" He stopped, and looked between me and the kid. You could almost see the calculation, was it going to be worth it? He came back to me. I would not be surprised if the kid wet himself. He really should have. The dog had murderous intentions, it was obvious. The kid was an ass that had tormented and teased the dog at every opportunity. Kid was in my yard that day. Dog felt he had the right to protect his yard. Most dogs think we are the alpha. We make the rules, because they allow it. Cats, on the other hand, do not allow it. They think we are foolish for believing we can control anything. Kids fall somewhere in the middle. Some kids allow us the control, others laugh at our foolishness. Think I'm wrong? An adult sets a rule. Kid's options, follow or break the rule. Kid follows the rule, life is good. Kid breaks the rule, and kid gets punished. Kid's options, follow the rule from now on, or not, follow punishment, or not. It's those, or nots, that are a problem. Let me give an example: Kid breaks curfew. Kid gets grounded. Kid sneaks out window. Kid gets caught. Grounding is extended. Out the window again. See a pattern? That kid can disregard any attempt by the adult to make rules. So what does a parent do with a child that refuses to accept that the parent is in control? That is every parent's nightmare.

Okay, enough from my past. For now.

Dear Sandman,

Can we negotiate? I don't know what else I can offer. I invite you over. I try to be a good hostess.

Warm baths, sleepy tea, mediation, reading...downright drugs (prescribed). And, yet, I go to bed and am left struggling to just keep my eyes closed or I drop like a stone in a well, for a nap. It is so hard to be awake for a couple of hours, right smack in the middle of the night. Funny thing, I haven't felt any ill effect, yet. Of course, that will change if you continue to be a greedy bastard. What's a little sleep to you? Sorry, I shouldn't be nasty. More carrot, less stick. Come on over. Stick around a bit. How do you feel about handcuffs?

Do not limit me

I just saw an article that said women over a certain age, should not wear these things...

Of course, you were supposed to click through to find what type of faux pas you were making. I hate, HATE, hate, being told what I should or should not be doing based on my age. Or for that fact, my height, weight, race, or anything else. Yes, I am perfectly aware that some things do not work for me. I am, also, perfectly aware that some people don't seem to be able to figure that out on their own. But this just hit my pissed button on a day when I am already standing on a soap box. It's been a pissy sort of day. NO, let me rephrase, there have already been a couple of piss me off issues today. Otherwise, it's been a perfectly good day. But, I digress. And, yes, I am perfectly aware that I could have just said, I hate being told what to do. That would have hit the nail perfectly square on the head. So, there.

We don't meet people by accident...

I have, in my life, met a lot of people.

Some have merely passed through. Others have imprinted on my heart, mind and/or soul.

Many are still with me, in regular contact. I know what is going on in their lives. We share time, feelings, thoughts.

Others, due to whatever circumstances, have less contact. It does not mean they don't mean a great deal to me. I would be there if they asked. But I do not know the details of their lives. We occasionally touch base with each other.

And there are those, that I rarely see or talk to, but strings stretch back into the past that connect us. Shared blood. Shared memories. Shared history. Shared secrets. Something shared.

Facebook has become the place for me, and I suspect many people, where we maintain connections with others. It is so nice at the end of an evening out, to see everyone got home safe. Or just to know what my friends are thinking about at a particular moment. I have celebrated and mourned with people when they share their lives in this very public forum. I love being able to maintain that connection. Facebook also allows  me to maintain connections with those people that are, more, on the periphery of my life. Or, as I recently posted, to reconnect with people that had slipped away. I have been very surprised recently, when I see relationship updates, from people that I did not know had gotten divorced. Bravo for keeping your private life, private. As much as we all share, nobody wants to see that drama played out in a public forum.

I have also shared many private moments through messages. Like many people, I hate the phone. Though part of me mourns the loss of that intimate connection with another person. That one-on-one connection, where emotions are heard, and sometimes, communicates what isn't being said. I also think, sometimes, the reason we hate the phone so much, is because it requires us to give ourselves to one thing. It is hard to multitask while talking on the phone. Though, I will admit, there was a time when I did a lot of house cleaning that way. Maybe that is why I hate the phone! Look, a revelation! Who knew?

Anyway, wherever our paths crossed and wherever the road has taken us, I feel lucky to have shared some part in your life. I have amazing memories, from a life well spent, with an eclectic group of people. Thank you for sharing it with me.

Old dog

I was given a 4 week project at the beginning of January. It was expanded to six weeks, and now, indefinitely. Yesterday, I created a step-by-step instruction sheet, in PowerPoint, that will be used hospital wide as an education tool. I can see the potential, that it will be used company wide. It is being mocked up as a poster for the doctor's lounge. I am learning and expanding into things I never imagined. It is bizarre to hear someone refer to me as, a subject expert. I may be educating people, on a group basis, as other locations begin using the electronic medical record. I have become the expert. All on my own. This whole project was handed to me, carte blanche. This is what we want, figure out how to do it. And I have done it. It's nice to know I can still learn new tricks.

Catching up

I spent a good deal of yesterday evening "speaking" with an old friend. Speaking as in messaging. Old as in, wow! I had not talked to her in over 35 years, high school. No particular reason. Life happened. We headed in different directions. Our roads never crossed again. I am not big on looking up people from my past. For the most part, I figure they are part of the past for a reason. There are a few exceptions. In this case, she had sent me a Facebook request, sometime ago. I accepted, like I said, no reason not to. But that was the end of it. No communication. Then, last August I sent her a message. There is this anniversary in August, one of those, do you remember where you were days. I remember, I was with her. She did not see the message until yesterday. She laughed, she said she had the same memory every year too. We talked for the net few hours, catching up...husbands, kids, grand kids, jobs, hobbies, talents, envies, wishes and regrets...but not many. It takes a while to catch up. It was nice. We wished each other the best. Maybe we'll stay in touch. Maybe next August. Maybe in 35 years.

How horribly inadequate I am

I tried to find a particular blog entry this morning. Something I intended to share. Unfortunately, the search option on this blog only searches labels apparently. Something, I have been horribly inadequate about doing regularly. Not that it might have done me a ton of good, as I started out using fairly generic labels rather than having a list a mile long. Damn, that is frustrating. But then, let's look on the bright side...I can still remember what it was I was looking for, even if I can't find it.

Here I sit...

in need of therapy. So, I write. It's what I do. You can wander off to other things. Nothing of interest today. Just me and my old friend anxiety. I deal so well, day to day, then I hit a wall and like an egg the facade shatters. It only takes one wrong turn, in one wrong moment, on any given day and Kapow! as they used to say in the old Batman TV show. I have no idea what the stumbling block was today, just a random assortment of trivial crap. Trivial, equals really doesn't matter so I can't even say why it makes me anxious. Why does anything make me anxious? Damn anxiety producing trivial crap screwing up my day. Nope, not going to happen. Time for a re-set. Ctrl + Alt +Delete, ok that only works for a computer. Hot bath...my equivalent. Maybe a hot tea. Disappear into a book? Guess that makes my short cut, bath + bev + book. Still here? Wondering why? I warned you.

Spirits...not the party variety

There has been a spirit trying to get my attention the past two days.

I don't think there has ever been a time in my life when I didn't believe in "ghosts." I say it that way, because people have varying opinions on what a ghost is. I have debated that myself. As I discovered, along the road of life, that my beliefs were in conflict with each other. How can there be ghosts, if you don't believe in an afterlife? It's all about words. I do not believe in heaven or hell. I do believe there exists, within the human form, something that can continue once the body has ceased. That something is the spirit, or ghosts, I have experienced all my life. This has also led to me to a stronger belief in reincarnation. I do not know why some spirits don't seem to find their way, and linger.

I work in a hospital. Not a place most people would think of being haunted. But if you think of the number of people that die in a hospital, would it be so surprising that spirits linger? I have encountered spirits in the hospital before. I have even been with another person that witnessed that same thing. A spirit passing along a hallway.

The last few days, my work has been interrupted a number of times, by someone stepping up beside me at my desk. You guessed it, when I turn and look, nobody is there. This has not ever happened in this office. I don't know why, in the last two days, this has occurred. Nothing special, or new, going on. Of course, I have no idea what has happened outside of my own little personal space.

So far, nobody has mentioned, noticing me turning to speak to thin air. I haven't mentioned seeing a shadowy form in my peripheral vision. I get enough odd looks. Being visited does not scare me. There have only been a few times, when I have felt discomfort, from a spirit. And fewer still, fear. I do wonder why they visit, why me? Is it something about my makeup that draws them, or something about it, that I sense what others do not? I do not hear them, so if there is a message...I'm not getting it. I can't decide if I am grateful or sad. Being repeatedly approached, I can't help but wonder...why?

Perspective

We have recently enjoyed the bright, full, Snow Moon of February. In case you don't know, full moons are named.

http://www.moonconnection.com/full-moon-names.phtml

I have enjoyed many full moons, but for some reason, this most recent one got me thinking. The moon is always full. It is always whole. We just refer to the part that is brightly visible. Those have names too.

http://www.moonconnection.com/moon_phases.phtml

Yes, I have a slight fascination with the moon. Just one of many things that fascinate me.

And along the same line of thought that the moon is indeed always full, I, in my own mind, answered one of those age old questions...is the glass half empty or half full?

The glass, just like the moon, is full. Half with fluid, half with air. 

What I think...

This will surprise some people, I actually have thoughts I do not express. Well, out loud.  These are usually angry thoughts. I do not wish to, um, tip the apple cart, so I keep them to myself. Or, the subject of my irritation is unavailable to receive my rant. And, as this forum is my outlet for such expression...

Initially, I though you were, perhaps, a bit immature. It's okay, immaturity has a cure. It's called time. But time passed. So after thought, and it didn't take a lot, I've decided that you are just selfish. 

Sometimes it's okay to be a little selfish, one must look out for themselves. But you are not a little selfish. You are full blown egocentric, self-centered, inconsiderate, uncaring, selfish. There is no other, beyond what you want. It does not matter who gets hurt as you bulldoze through life, as long as you get what you want. 

I am not sure what to wish for more, that in time you will mature, or that karma just takes a great big gigantic bite of your ass.

Magic Grandma

My grandson and I have had a bit of difficulty identifying me. I know that sounds strange. This may not even be the first blog entry on the subject. But, for the first time, he seems to have settled on a moniker for me. Magic Grandma. Yes, you heard that right. He started off calling me, Her. As grandpa had a habit of telling him, "Go get her." Confusion completely understandable. After deciding that being called Her, as funny as it was, was not really how I wanted to be known, we tried a few traditional titles...mamaw, grandma, meme, nana. He rejected them all, and suggested, Sheila. The name of his favorite purple dinosaur. OK, it was purple, my favorite color, but it was a dinosaur. Maybe Her wasn't do bad. I dropped the subject and in true, head in the sand fashion, hoped it would just work itself out. Then, suddenly, I was Magic Grandma. He declares, when entering the house, "I want to play with Magic Grandma."

Our assumption is, this has something to do with the fact that our dog's name is Majik (pronounced Magic). I mean is that too far of a leap in logic? It amuses the hell out of me on so many levels. I don't know how long I will be Magic Grandma, but it has lasted longer than any other...and he came up with it on his own. I told the husband recently, that when our old man dog passes on, we'll have to get another dog. I think we'll name that one...Favorite. Just in case.

A fan of myself

Sitting here randomly reading posts in my own blog. I am, after all, my biggest (only) fan. My blog posts are not meaningless, not to me. It is like flipping through a photo album, except the pictures are painted by words. Not all of the memories are good, but they are, all lessons. And they are all, uniquely mine.

Four eyes...in a shade of blue

When I was very young, school determined that I needed glasses...terribly. For whatever reason, I don't know why, Mom sent Dad and I off to get me glasses. I don't remember this, but my guess is, my Dad let me pick the ones I wanted. They were baby blue. I assume, my favorite color at that time. Mom was not happy. She mentioned it many times while I was growing up. I am not sure why, but she did not think blue eyeglasses were a good idea.

Much more recently, school determined that my grandson needed glasses. He came into the house tonight wearing them. The first thing I did, was tell him how much I liked them. Believe me, all children, that wear glasses, need to hear this. There is way too much ridicule where glasses are involved. The second thing I did was smile to myself, because his first glasses are blue.

Sugar and spice...but more than pink.

I am having a dilemma. Surprise! I know, right?

I raised two sons. I bought them boy toys. Not exclusively. My son had a doll. As in, baby doll. It was a Cabbage Patch knockoff. His grandmother made it, he wanted it, she gave it to him. I had a few objections, none of them being that my son wanted a doll. It had a creepy clown face...enough said. And it was, a black baby. I was afraid someone would take offense. How hard is that to imagine? Anyway, when we walked into Toys R Us, they headed straight for the boy toys. It never even occurred to me, back then, that the toys were divided, greatly, by gender.

I am wiser now.

And I have a granddaughter.

I bought her a baby doll for Christmas. It's perfect for a 17 month old. It's cuddly soft. Age safe, sewn on face. Pink. Machine washable. It was a natural. I guess that is why it bothered me. I don't want her toys defined by her gender. Or, more accurately, perhaps, I don't want what I select for her to be all gauzy and pink because she's a girl. I want to open more doors to her, then, she can decide what type of person she wants to be.

Yes, this Christmas, she will be getting a baby doll. I hope that she will love it. But she will also be getting a super hero costume for playing dress up. Yes, it's a skirt, there is nothing wrong with being a girl. But I want her to know, she can be a hero too.