Last night was another reunion of sorts. A fellow NJROTC alumni was back in AZ and a group of us gathered at D&B to see what's been happening to us all. I gotta tell you friend, these events leave me humble, grateful and energized!
You probably need some back story. As you well know, I'm an only child and the only grandchild in my mom's side of the fam for many years. At the end of 8th grade there was a meet and greet with the 3 high schools our Jr high fed into. I was going to go to Apollo. At the Apollo booth there were a few kids dressed in Navy uniforms with a big picture board showing all the different sorts of activities. One photo caught my 13 year old attention. It was one of the military ball. That's all it took. I know...I'm sure I could make up a better reason I joined ROTC but the truth...just wanted to go to the ball.
Now its August before Freshman year and I'm terrified to be in the ROTC room collecting my uniforms. I remember being baffled at why I joined a group that required me to wear a military uniform every Wed to school. That day I met Donald Duck (*remember I change names). Turns out the DD was my very first friend in high school and is STILL one of my very best friends. That same day I also met the son of our Commander and for reasons I'm still not sure of, an antagonistic relationship ensued that lasted all 4 years.
Almost 20 years later and over the course of 6 months I'm reconnecting with so many of these kids. It's been overwhelming to say the least. Several went into the military. Some live out of state, lots of kids, some broken marriages, some successful marriages...alot of life has happened in 20 years yet the same thing happens at every meeting. These people are still the people that I fell in love with Freshman year. Some was romantic love sure but when I say love my meaning is more innocent.
These kids were the highlight of my childhood and still are in my memories. Suddenly I wasn't alone anymore and I had a collection of people that were bonded in the wearing of a military uniform once a week in high school. Now think about that for a moment. In a period of life that could quite possibly be the hardest and the need to fit in at its peak, we were a group of kids that VOLUNTEERED to be in a group that wore uniforms and marched. LOL!! It makes me laugh to think about that.
So last night I got to show the Hubbs who I used to know. The hunk is still the hunk, the tomboy was still the tomboy, the jock was still the sweet guy he always was, and the commander's son...well he's not the antagonistic pain the in butt I thought he was. Truth be told I may have been wrong about him. Let's keep that between us!
I don't know if everyone had the opportunity to go back in time and revisit their past in the way I've been able to do these past 6 months. I can say with conviction and tears that the moment that 13 year old girl saw a picture of the military ball set forth a chain of events that wove together a history and a foundation for my life that stays with me today.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
I've got friends in many places
I spent the first three days of this week in La Jolla California. I'll write about my actual trip in my travel blog but this is about WHO I spent those 3 days with and how impactful it turned out to be.
I have a friend we'll call Chiquita. I'll picked that name not only to hide her identity but also because the way I know Chiquita I envision her with a basket of fruit on her head, wearing a wildly colored dance outfit, swinging on a vine watching over the world and all it's weirdness. Chiquita has a very cool beau I'll call Vesuvius. That's a very fitting name for him. He at one time was wild, angry and could erupt taking out villages but 30+ years ago decided he didn't want to be so angry and is now a peaceful giant that's lovely to look at and even better to listen too BUT there's always the underlying caution one must take because he could erupt again if he so chooses. Especially if his Chiquita is in anyway in danger!
I met Chiquita a little more than 5 years ago while taking an exercise class in my former hometown. She is 20 years older than the Punkin and several inches taller. I was intimidated to say the least. For some reason, that is till foreign to me, Chiquita decided that I was someone she wanted to get to know. When I say I have no idea why she picked me, that's not an insecurity issue for me that's the truth. We had nothing in common and alot of the people that I had for friends at that point 'needed' me. Chiquita did not need me to help her life. But with some effort and some very straight forward questions on her part, we became friends. I thank the Big Guy for that after every exchange we have!
The last few years I was in Cali, Chiquita and I saw and/or spoke to each other almost every day. When I found out we were moving I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. Luckily she got the drift of what I was trying to say between tears. She and Vesuvius were the last people Hubbs and spent time with before we left Cali.
Let me back it up a moment and explain how Vesuvius plays into this story. The week before the Hubbs and I made it legal, Chiquita and Vesuvius took us out for dinner. This was the first time Hubbs met Vesuvius and it was a rather turbulent time for Hubbs career wise. We spent several hours that evening, say 5, talking (and for Hubbs a few yelling moments) with this couple. The biggest impact was the times we just listened to them. Now almost 2 years later the Hubbs counts that evening as one of the major life altering events that propelled him to where he is now. Vesuvius has a way of getting to the matter of the issue at hand. He listened as Hubbs yelled and got righteous and even agreed that Hubbs wasn't wrong in his frustration. What I found amazing during that 5 hour marathon was that Vesuvius, with much calmness, gave insight to what was really going on and steered Hubbs down another path. It was truly amazing to watch this happen. I'm sure we didn't fully understand the impact of that night until recently.
So now we're 5 months into our relocation and I FINALLY get to spend a few days with my friend. La Jolla was lovely and the food was Divine. LOL!! I love how well you know me now! You already know where this is headed doncha?! Yep, you're right, it ain't about the the food or the beach. We could have been in Blythe CA! Which if you don't know is an awful place in the middle of nowhere between CA and AZ. Chiquita and I fell right back into our comfortable relationships with conversations that left me thinking, growing and loving life.
On the six hour ride back to the desert I had alot of time to think. I spent a bit of that crying but most of it relieved. I wrote previously about how we can see who we are in old friends. This past week I began to realize that we also see who we want to become with new friends. Our friendship, me and Chiquita, is balanced. Though there is a 20 years age gap and some mentoring involved, we share equally and both walk away better for our exchange. During our 3 days together, Chiquita asked me questions that gave me pause at times. One that comes to mind was "what the heck is that about?" Brilliant right?! That's her go to question when I'm telling her some story about something strange I did or felt. The question seems silly but it's great. It makes me think "what IS that about?" The answer is usually a random experience or idea that I was clueless about until her question.
One of the last things we did before leaving really metaphorically sums up what I think about friendship.
EXT. DAY - LA JOLLA STATE PARK
To WOMEN with a 20 year age gap walk a sandy path that curves through vegetation covered cliffs that overlook the Pacific Ocean. Little JACK RABBITS appear at the edge of the trail and watch the two tourist women with amusement.
WOMAN #1
Where the heck are we?
WOMAN #2
You have the map! What does it say?
WOMAN#1
Oh yeah.
(She pulls the map from her pocket.)
Looks like we're...well I'm not sure exactly.
WOMAN #2
Let me see
(she looks at the map too)
I think we turn right up at the top of the hill but I have no idea!
WOMAN #1
I guess we keep walking. At least the view is pretty.
WOMAN #2
and we're getting exercise!
WOMAN#1
Good point! We'll get out of here eventually.
WOMAN #2
So let's just keep going at least we've earned a good lunch!
So how does that explain friendship? Well, for me its simple. I'm on a path that I have no idea where's its taking me. I have friends that try to look at the map too but they may only see a little ahead. So we keep walking and give each other reasons to find a good lunch!
I have a friend we'll call Chiquita. I'll picked that name not only to hide her identity but also because the way I know Chiquita I envision her with a basket of fruit on her head, wearing a wildly colored dance outfit, swinging on a vine watching over the world and all it's weirdness. Chiquita has a very cool beau I'll call Vesuvius. That's a very fitting name for him. He at one time was wild, angry and could erupt taking out villages but 30+ years ago decided he didn't want to be so angry and is now a peaceful giant that's lovely to look at and even better to listen too BUT there's always the underlying caution one must take because he could erupt again if he so chooses. Especially if his Chiquita is in anyway in danger!
I met Chiquita a little more than 5 years ago while taking an exercise class in my former hometown. She is 20 years older than the Punkin and several inches taller. I was intimidated to say the least. For some reason, that is till foreign to me, Chiquita decided that I was someone she wanted to get to know. When I say I have no idea why she picked me, that's not an insecurity issue for me that's the truth. We had nothing in common and alot of the people that I had for friends at that point 'needed' me. Chiquita did not need me to help her life. But with some effort and some very straight forward questions on her part, we became friends. I thank the Big Guy for that after every exchange we have!
The last few years I was in Cali, Chiquita and I saw and/or spoke to each other almost every day. When I found out we were moving I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. Luckily she got the drift of what I was trying to say between tears. She and Vesuvius were the last people Hubbs and spent time with before we left Cali.
Let me back it up a moment and explain how Vesuvius plays into this story. The week before the Hubbs and I made it legal, Chiquita and Vesuvius took us out for dinner. This was the first time Hubbs met Vesuvius and it was a rather turbulent time for Hubbs career wise. We spent several hours that evening, say 5, talking (and for Hubbs a few yelling moments) with this couple. The biggest impact was the times we just listened to them. Now almost 2 years later the Hubbs counts that evening as one of the major life altering events that propelled him to where he is now. Vesuvius has a way of getting to the matter of the issue at hand. He listened as Hubbs yelled and got righteous and even agreed that Hubbs wasn't wrong in his frustration. What I found amazing during that 5 hour marathon was that Vesuvius, with much calmness, gave insight to what was really going on and steered Hubbs down another path. It was truly amazing to watch this happen. I'm sure we didn't fully understand the impact of that night until recently.
So now we're 5 months into our relocation and I FINALLY get to spend a few days with my friend. La Jolla was lovely and the food was Divine. LOL!! I love how well you know me now! You already know where this is headed doncha?! Yep, you're right, it ain't about the the food or the beach. We could have been in Blythe CA! Which if you don't know is an awful place in the middle of nowhere between CA and AZ. Chiquita and I fell right back into our comfortable relationships with conversations that left me thinking, growing and loving life.
On the six hour ride back to the desert I had alot of time to think. I spent a bit of that crying but most of it relieved. I wrote previously about how we can see who we are in old friends. This past week I began to realize that we also see who we want to become with new friends. Our friendship, me and Chiquita, is balanced. Though there is a 20 years age gap and some mentoring involved, we share equally and both walk away better for our exchange. During our 3 days together, Chiquita asked me questions that gave me pause at times. One that comes to mind was "what the heck is that about?" Brilliant right?! That's her go to question when I'm telling her some story about something strange I did or felt. The question seems silly but it's great. It makes me think "what IS that about?" The answer is usually a random experience or idea that I was clueless about until her question.
One of the last things we did before leaving really metaphorically sums up what I think about friendship.
EXT. DAY - LA JOLLA STATE PARK
To WOMEN with a 20 year age gap walk a sandy path that curves through vegetation covered cliffs that overlook the Pacific Ocean. Little JACK RABBITS appear at the edge of the trail and watch the two tourist women with amusement.
WOMAN #1
Where the heck are we?
WOMAN #2
You have the map! What does it say?
WOMAN#1
Oh yeah.
(She pulls the map from her pocket.)
Looks like we're...well I'm not sure exactly.
WOMAN #2
Let me see
(she looks at the map too)
I think we turn right up at the top of the hill but I have no idea!
WOMAN #1
I guess we keep walking. At least the view is pretty.
WOMAN #2
and we're getting exercise!
WOMAN#1
Good point! We'll get out of here eventually.
WOMAN #2
So let's just keep going at least we've earned a good lunch!
So how does that explain friendship? Well, for me its simple. I'm on a path that I have no idea where's its taking me. I have friends that try to look at the map too but they may only see a little ahead. So we keep walking and give each other reasons to find a good lunch!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Live Long & Prosper
The beginning the of summer blockbusters is upon us. Over the past two weekends the Hubbs and I have partaken in this event by attending opening weekend for both Wolverine and Star Trek. Not really my types of films but after years of attending, in his words, whatever freaky lame @$$ waste of time film I wanted to see, I owed him a few mainstream films. I'm glad I did too. At a very basic review level both flicks were fun, stimulating and worth the admission.
Yeah but you know me right? I can't leave it there. After we left Star Trek something haunted me for days; both films were prequels. An interesting term and more interesting a trend that has been consistently gaining momentum thanks to Mr Lucas. As a currently unpaid but hopefully soon to be paid screenwriter I find prequels fascinating. Why? Thanks for asking! We know the ending.
Well, we do don't we? The whole premise of a prequel is that it's telling of the back story us writers spent months agonizing over during the original script as a way to get the characters right. Now you as the audience want to know what the heck happened to these people that made them so haunted or successful. Studios are make serious bank on that need. But the thought is still there, how do we keep the audience entertained and interested for 90 minutes for a story they already know the end too?
I'm not sure about that answer. Aren't ya glad you came along this little psycho journey with me?! I hope to have an answer by the time I'm done writing so stick with me and maybe we'll find out together!
Here's what I'm thinking and see if you agree or can extrapolate anything more. We know the ending of our story, we die. Yet we still continue to make decisions and live lives despite what some see as a depressing ending. Let's back up and say yes we know we're all headed north or for some and you know who you are, south after that last breath is expelled. We also know that there's an end to every flick and the credits will roll. Yet we continue to go see what Lucas, Spielberg and Apatow are up too because we love the journey whether the film was worth the $15 or not. So with that logic (maybe a stretch to say logic but let's keep going) though we know our end we want a great journey.
So the life we're living is the prequel to our future right? Follow me? I want to go further in this question. If you knew the exact ending of your life would you change how you're living it now? I think of Anakin Sky walker, yes I am talking about Darth Vader. Mr. Lucas, in my opinion, did an amazing job creating the life and pain of this man that was to become one of the coolest villains in film history. If young Anakin knew that his hate was going to cause him to have to breath through a black laundry basket for the rest of his life do you think he may have sought some therapy or at least hugged a wookie once in awhile?
So back to you friend, where are you wanting to go and what's holding you back? I'm asking myself that quite a bit these days. I'm a writer whose terrified of writing. No seriously I am afraid of writing! That blank screen just mocking me...*shudder*. Thank goodness for Facebook or I'd never be on the computer. Crap, I'm digressing again. Back to story, I have a pretty good idea of what I'd like the end to be but thankfully I believe in a big God that has the foresight to not let me know what He has planned but yet gives me dreams. If I knew all the things that were going to be in my life over the past 34 years I'm pretty sure I would have just curled up in a ball and covered my head. There was good, there was bad and there sure was ugly. Hel-lo crazy quilted skirt and matching top with pink saddle shoes! But looking back it's all so overwhelming it can make ME speechless. Think of your own story, if you knew what you know now wouldn't you have made different decisions? Flipside being you are now because of what you were then.
Another thought entered and is dancing around in this frightening place I call my mind. Don't just think about your own prequel. Take a moment to think about someone else's. Might help us to deal in a more productive way with someone who just gets our dander up.
So in a wrap up, (aren't you glad you stuck around? Thanks for that!) I guess I'm saying that I enjoy the occasional prequel but when given the choice I want the original. I'm glad I didn't know nor do I know now what the future will bring in my little life but I do know one thing, I do NOT want to end up sliding down a flaming hill with no legs only to be put into a black suit and breath like a char pea. I look terrible in black!
Punkin Out!
Yeah but you know me right? I can't leave it there. After we left Star Trek something haunted me for days; both films were prequels. An interesting term and more interesting a trend that has been consistently gaining momentum thanks to Mr Lucas. As a currently unpaid but hopefully soon to be paid screenwriter I find prequels fascinating. Why? Thanks for asking! We know the ending.
Well, we do don't we? The whole premise of a prequel is that it's telling of the back story us writers spent months agonizing over during the original script as a way to get the characters right. Now you as the audience want to know what the heck happened to these people that made them so haunted or successful. Studios are make serious bank on that need. But the thought is still there, how do we keep the audience entertained and interested for 90 minutes for a story they already know the end too?
I'm not sure about that answer. Aren't ya glad you came along this little psycho journey with me?! I hope to have an answer by the time I'm done writing so stick with me and maybe we'll find out together!
Here's what I'm thinking and see if you agree or can extrapolate anything more. We know the ending of our story, we die. Yet we still continue to make decisions and live lives despite what some see as a depressing ending. Let's back up and say yes we know we're all headed north or for some and you know who you are, south after that last breath is expelled. We also know that there's an end to every flick and the credits will roll. Yet we continue to go see what Lucas, Spielberg and Apatow are up too because we love the journey whether the film was worth the $15 or not. So with that logic (maybe a stretch to say logic but let's keep going) though we know our end we want a great journey.
So the life we're living is the prequel to our future right? Follow me? I want to go further in this question. If you knew the exact ending of your life would you change how you're living it now? I think of Anakin Sky walker, yes I am talking about Darth Vader. Mr. Lucas, in my opinion, did an amazing job creating the life and pain of this man that was to become one of the coolest villains in film history. If young Anakin knew that his hate was going to cause him to have to breath through a black laundry basket for the rest of his life do you think he may have sought some therapy or at least hugged a wookie once in awhile?
So back to you friend, where are you wanting to go and what's holding you back? I'm asking myself that quite a bit these days. I'm a writer whose terrified of writing. No seriously I am afraid of writing! That blank screen just mocking me...*shudder*. Thank goodness for Facebook or I'd never be on the computer. Crap, I'm digressing again. Back to story, I have a pretty good idea of what I'd like the end to be but thankfully I believe in a big God that has the foresight to not let me know what He has planned but yet gives me dreams. If I knew all the things that were going to be in my life over the past 34 years I'm pretty sure I would have just curled up in a ball and covered my head. There was good, there was bad and there sure was ugly. Hel-lo crazy quilted skirt and matching top with pink saddle shoes! But looking back it's all so overwhelming it can make ME speechless. Think of your own story, if you knew what you know now wouldn't you have made different decisions? Flipside being you are now because of what you were then.
Another thought entered and is dancing around in this frightening place I call my mind. Don't just think about your own prequel. Take a moment to think about someone else's. Might help us to deal in a more productive way with someone who just gets our dander up.
So in a wrap up, (aren't you glad you stuck around? Thanks for that!) I guess I'm saying that I enjoy the occasional prequel but when given the choice I want the original. I'm glad I didn't know nor do I know now what the future will bring in my little life but I do know one thing, I do NOT want to end up sliding down a flaming hill with no legs only to be put into a black suit and breath like a char pea. I look terrible in black!
Punkin Out!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
If it's too loud then your too old!
In the wisdom of my favorite song writer, Jimmy Buffett:
"I'm growing older but not up.
My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck.
The winds of time blow over my head,
I'd rather die while I'm living than
Live while I'm dead!"
In interesting phenomena has transpired over the past month since my last musing. Something I never expected, hit me between the eyes and I'm grateful for it. What could it possibly be you're probably asking. It's this, Facebook. Ahhhh...worth the anticipation right? No? I'll extrapolate.
Three days before the Hubb's came home with the announcement that he was going to yank me out the of place I loved and force me back into the barren dirty tinder box I loathed (hmmm..that maybe harsh, sorry babe) one of my close friends from high school suggested I join Facebook. Seems that she had been a member and was now in contact with several of our NJROTC classmates. Not being one to spend much time in cyber space, I hadn't experienced myspace, facebook or utube. But I took the plunge and created a FB account.
Within minutes I was being 'friend requested' by a guy I'd known while attending one of my 6 years of community college. I noted the small surge of excitement jumping in my belly as I saw a name I hadn't seen or thought about in years. Moments after that more and more names popped up. Suddenly I was flush with delight and excitement. "Oh she has 4 kids." or "He is still in AZ!" I was hooked in a big way!
Four days later, I was in shock at our potential move and spent more time lost in the land of FB. It was cathartic and healing. Fast forward 4 months. A few weeks back I met an old friend for lunch. I hadn't seen Charlie Brown (remember I change names to protect friends from me) in 15 years. I was nervous but as soon as I drove into the parking lot and saw him standing in the exact same stance I remember from ROTC, I laughed. I'd recognize him anywhere. During our marathon talk fest over gyros, he made a comment that stuck with me. He mentioned that a few years back he was having an issue remembering who he was and began contacting our old friends in an effort reconnect with his former self. (I'm sorry if I'm telling stories out of school Charlie Brown but this was so brilliant I needed to expand on it) This was a mind blowing concept for me as I was struggling with our move back to my hometown.
His comment stayed in my mind over the next two weeks until this past Sunday when a small group of ROTC alums met for a BBQ. I was terrified. My hands were shaking as the Hubb's and I made our way up to the area our group was waiting. I didn't have the foggiest idea what to expect. I'd seen a 2 of these peeps 10+ years earlier but only had brief FB contact in the months prior.
Well, we joined the group and hugs and spouse/child introductions were abound. As my usual MO, I stepped back and watched for a few seconds. While I may not have immediately recognized each of these people, suddenly in my mind's eye they were transforming back into the sweet faces I remember from 20 years ago. Hair was returning, tummies were slimming, the smiles, laughter and voices were suddenly placing me back to a time that was wonderful though questionable in its fashion sense.
Over the next few hours, a couple of our parents showed up and I was happily presenting old photographs to my very first boyfriend's 16 year old daughter WHO I might add, is 2 years older than we were when we held hands between classes and passed dorky notes! I was laughing with the wives and teasing the boys. It was one of the best moments I've had in the recent months. It was as if the past 15 years of life had equalized us all but yet we were all going back to a more innocent time.
A few days later I'm still in the euphoria of memory. I posted pics old and new and laughed hysterically at comments and photos they are now posting. Charlie Brown's profound statement is foremost in my mind. As I am searching again for who I am exactly I could see it for myself in this experience with my old pals. I'm the girl who wore a weird hat to Jr. prom and still remembered for it. I'm the girl who didn't now the pain some of these great friends were experiencing in high school but can pray for now. But more importantly, I can see that things I loved about these people in high school were still there just with more confidence and refinement. My 1st beau can still make me laugh until I wet myself. His best friend is still the perfect pairing and has a sincere heart. The quiet blond is bolder but still gentle and one of my dearest friends. The one who had a secret now has peace in his face that he lacked for 4 years!
Now I ponder the question, can we discover who we've become by looking at who we were? I know my answer. What's yours?
"I'm growing older but not up.
My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck.
The winds of time blow over my head,
I'd rather die while I'm living than
Live while I'm dead!"
In interesting phenomena has transpired over the past month since my last musing. Something I never expected, hit me between the eyes and I'm grateful for it. What could it possibly be you're probably asking. It's this, Facebook. Ahhhh...worth the anticipation right? No? I'll extrapolate.
Three days before the Hubb's came home with the announcement that he was going to yank me out the of place I loved and force me back into the barren dirty tinder box I loathed (hmmm..that maybe harsh, sorry babe) one of my close friends from high school suggested I join Facebook. Seems that she had been a member and was now in contact with several of our NJROTC classmates. Not being one to spend much time in cyber space, I hadn't experienced myspace, facebook or utube. But I took the plunge and created a FB account.
Within minutes I was being 'friend requested' by a guy I'd known while attending one of my 6 years of community college. I noted the small surge of excitement jumping in my belly as I saw a name I hadn't seen or thought about in years. Moments after that more and more names popped up. Suddenly I was flush with delight and excitement. "Oh she has 4 kids." or "He is still in AZ!" I was hooked in a big way!
Four days later, I was in shock at our potential move and spent more time lost in the land of FB. It was cathartic and healing. Fast forward 4 months. A few weeks back I met an old friend for lunch. I hadn't seen Charlie Brown (remember I change names to protect friends from me) in 15 years. I was nervous but as soon as I drove into the parking lot and saw him standing in the exact same stance I remember from ROTC, I laughed. I'd recognize him anywhere. During our marathon talk fest over gyros, he made a comment that stuck with me. He mentioned that a few years back he was having an issue remembering who he was and began contacting our old friends in an effort reconnect with his former self. (I'm sorry if I'm telling stories out of school Charlie Brown but this was so brilliant I needed to expand on it) This was a mind blowing concept for me as I was struggling with our move back to my hometown.
His comment stayed in my mind over the next two weeks until this past Sunday when a small group of ROTC alums met for a BBQ. I was terrified. My hands were shaking as the Hubb's and I made our way up to the area our group was waiting. I didn't have the foggiest idea what to expect. I'd seen a 2 of these peeps 10+ years earlier but only had brief FB contact in the months prior.
Well, we joined the group and hugs and spouse/child introductions were abound. As my usual MO, I stepped back and watched for a few seconds. While I may not have immediately recognized each of these people, suddenly in my mind's eye they were transforming back into the sweet faces I remember from 20 years ago. Hair was returning, tummies were slimming, the smiles, laughter and voices were suddenly placing me back to a time that was wonderful though questionable in its fashion sense.
Over the next few hours, a couple of our parents showed up and I was happily presenting old photographs to my very first boyfriend's 16 year old daughter WHO I might add, is 2 years older than we were when we held hands between classes and passed dorky notes! I was laughing with the wives and teasing the boys. It was one of the best moments I've had in the recent months. It was as if the past 15 years of life had equalized us all but yet we were all going back to a more innocent time.
A few days later I'm still in the euphoria of memory. I posted pics old and new and laughed hysterically at comments and photos they are now posting. Charlie Brown's profound statement is foremost in my mind. As I am searching again for who I am exactly I could see it for myself in this experience with my old pals. I'm the girl who wore a weird hat to Jr. prom and still remembered for it. I'm the girl who didn't now the pain some of these great friends were experiencing in high school but can pray for now. But more importantly, I can see that things I loved about these people in high school were still there just with more confidence and refinement. My 1st beau can still make me laugh until I wet myself. His best friend is still the perfect pairing and has a sincere heart. The quiet blond is bolder but still gentle and one of my dearest friends. The one who had a secret now has peace in his face that he lacked for 4 years!
Now I ponder the question, can we discover who we've become by looking at who we were? I know my answer. What's yours?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
I'm not over this yet?!?!
I'm getting pretty darn tired of revisiting all the crap involved with moving back to the land of dirt and cactus. As you know, we moved way back in January and now 2 months later, crap is still surfacing. Mostly I mean emotional crap but there is the occasional material crap that has appeared recently too.
I learned something about my personality this morning that I'm not sure I like very much. I belong to a 'newcomers group' at a local church and I began attending the sessions the week after I arrived. In this group there are 8 women who for various reasons have found themselves in Chandler from all over the country. Some had only been there a year or so and a few for 2-4 years. I was behind the curve with only a week under my belt. They commented on how great it was that I started the healing process so quickly and how they wished they'd joined sooner. There was a great book involved and homework too. I was in my element. Tangible things to rate my progress.
Well, I jumped into this process with the same verve and vigor I usually start something that I think I can control. I read, studied, journaled and professed all sort of useless witty wisdom in class and felt quite proud of myself. (you can see what's coming can't ya?) Yeah...that was until we went on Spring Break for the last 2 weeks.
Last week was probably one of the worst emotionally I've had since the move. Funny thing though, I didn't notice it. I was so freakin' busy over the last month. In 4 weeks I went to the Keys, Vegas and had 2 separate sets of company! I was so 'in control' that I didn't notice that I was rapidly unraveling. Last week when all the company left and the travel was through I was suddenly plunged into boredom and consequently depression. I didn't notice the depression because I was do busy being indignant with how ungrateful people were with my help and guidance in their life. Now given they didn't ask for my help or guidance...that's not the point! Ahhh...but as I realize today that very well may be the point.
Last Wednesday night the Hubbs shuffled in between work and a working dinner and in the brief 15 minutes we had together he dropped this little jewel on me, "I think your depressed or something. You seem off and I can't figure out why you still haven't done the things you said you'd do like join a gym." What a guy, right? Loves his wife so much he comments that she hasn't joined a gym! *sigh* I said he was intelligent but he's not always the bright crayon in the box! Being the woman that I am, I focused on the gym comment more than the depressed one which he quickly brought to my attention in his attempts to extract his foot from his mouth. It was an interesting thought and one that stayed in my mind all weekend and into this week. Was I depressed? I know me, I've seen me depressed and this ain't it. Huh, what was it then?
We had an interesting weekend spat in the parking lot of IKEA over something or another and that passed then yesterday morning we had another one over the very serious subject of yogurt. My brain was still grinding trying to figure out how to 'fix' my depression or whatever was wrong and fix it NOW.
That brings our story to this mornings Newcomers group. The comment came up again that I was smart to start the group early in my move and how great I seemed to be doing. The proverbial light bulb went off in my head at the that moment. I wasn't smart or wise. I was a moron. I had decided that I could set a schedule for how long I was going to take to heal from the move and that's all the time I would need. Oh good grief, isn't that like telling yourself that you only get 3 days to heal from a cold and then it must be gone. Hel-lo who's telling the germs that they have to move along? I'm also the same chick who decided in Co-Dependants Anonymous that I would only need 6 weeks to do the entire 12 steps! Obviously that worked out for me very well. (note the sarcasm and go back to paragraph 4 and me 'helping' other with their lives) What in the world was I thinking?! Of course I was depressed! I did the mechanics of reading the book and doing all my homework but I never allowed myself to be sad...really really sad.
So guess what, I'm really really sad. I miss California. Not the idea of living there or what it defined me as but the actual place. I miss my dear sweet smart friend who showed me how to love the town I lived in. I miss the connection I had with my Jazzercise peeps. I miss walking Seal Beach every Wed & Fri and talking to the one legged pigeons on the pier. I miss our sweet neighbor that had to hug me every time she saw me which could mean several times a day. I miss being able to go to Downtown Disney just because I felt like hanging out and watching the families on vacation. I miss my church.
Hmmm...interesting. Just as I was typing those last few sentences, I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I had to stop and bawl it out for a few minutes. In sobbing like a child, I feel better than I've felt in a very long time. I'm still crying but I think that's ok. I remembering that just because I miss my last home doesn't mean that I'm not grateful to be where God just plopped me. That's an interesting thought. By allowing myself to be out of control enough to let my emotions run their course, suddenly I feel more in control of what's going on inside.
Man oh man does God have a strange sense of humor or what? The very thing I was trying to avoid was the very thing I needed. I guess that's true for all of us isn't it? I'm scrambling around trying to make every ones life calm and peaceful while avoiding the very emotions that if expressed can give me some peace.
Well, there ya have it folks. In the course of a half hour of rambling in a blog I checked my ego at the door and cried or more importantly admitted that I cried! I'm sure the Hubbs will be so grateful he didn't have to witness the crying part. He's not so good with that!
Well, I'm off to the gym! *wink* Let's talk again soon.
I learned something about my personality this morning that I'm not sure I like very much. I belong to a 'newcomers group' at a local church and I began attending the sessions the week after I arrived. In this group there are 8 women who for various reasons have found themselves in Chandler from all over the country. Some had only been there a year or so and a few for 2-4 years. I was behind the curve with only a week under my belt. They commented on how great it was that I started the healing process so quickly and how they wished they'd joined sooner. There was a great book involved and homework too. I was in my element. Tangible things to rate my progress.
Well, I jumped into this process with the same verve and vigor I usually start something that I think I can control. I read, studied, journaled and professed all sort of useless witty wisdom in class and felt quite proud of myself. (you can see what's coming can't ya?) Yeah...that was until we went on Spring Break for the last 2 weeks.
Last week was probably one of the worst emotionally I've had since the move. Funny thing though, I didn't notice it. I was so freakin' busy over the last month. In 4 weeks I went to the Keys, Vegas and had 2 separate sets of company! I was so 'in control' that I didn't notice that I was rapidly unraveling. Last week when all the company left and the travel was through I was suddenly plunged into boredom and consequently depression. I didn't notice the depression because I was do busy being indignant with how ungrateful people were with my help and guidance in their life. Now given they didn't ask for my help or guidance...that's not the point! Ahhh...but as I realize today that very well may be the point.
Last Wednesday night the Hubbs shuffled in between work and a working dinner and in the brief 15 minutes we had together he dropped this little jewel on me, "I think your depressed or something. You seem off and I can't figure out why you still haven't done the things you said you'd do like join a gym." What a guy, right? Loves his wife so much he comments that she hasn't joined a gym! *sigh* I said he was intelligent but he's not always the bright crayon in the box! Being the woman that I am, I focused on the gym comment more than the depressed one which he quickly brought to my attention in his attempts to extract his foot from his mouth. It was an interesting thought and one that stayed in my mind all weekend and into this week. Was I depressed? I know me, I've seen me depressed and this ain't it. Huh, what was it then?
We had an interesting weekend spat in the parking lot of IKEA over something or another and that passed then yesterday morning we had another one over the very serious subject of yogurt. My brain was still grinding trying to figure out how to 'fix' my depression or whatever was wrong and fix it NOW.
That brings our story to this mornings Newcomers group. The comment came up again that I was smart to start the group early in my move and how great I seemed to be doing. The proverbial light bulb went off in my head at the that moment. I wasn't smart or wise. I was a moron. I had decided that I could set a schedule for how long I was going to take to heal from the move and that's all the time I would need. Oh good grief, isn't that like telling yourself that you only get 3 days to heal from a cold and then it must be gone. Hel-lo who's telling the germs that they have to move along? I'm also the same chick who decided in Co-Dependants Anonymous that I would only need 6 weeks to do the entire 12 steps! Obviously that worked out for me very well. (note the sarcasm and go back to paragraph 4 and me 'helping' other with their lives) What in the world was I thinking?! Of course I was depressed! I did the mechanics of reading the book and doing all my homework but I never allowed myself to be sad...really really sad.
So guess what, I'm really really sad. I miss California. Not the idea of living there or what it defined me as but the actual place. I miss my dear sweet smart friend who showed me how to love the town I lived in. I miss the connection I had with my Jazzercise peeps. I miss walking Seal Beach every Wed & Fri and talking to the one legged pigeons on the pier. I miss our sweet neighbor that had to hug me every time she saw me which could mean several times a day. I miss being able to go to Downtown Disney just because I felt like hanging out and watching the families on vacation. I miss my church.
Hmmm...interesting. Just as I was typing those last few sentences, I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I had to stop and bawl it out for a few minutes. In sobbing like a child, I feel better than I've felt in a very long time. I'm still crying but I think that's ok. I remembering that just because I miss my last home doesn't mean that I'm not grateful to be where God just plopped me. That's an interesting thought. By allowing myself to be out of control enough to let my emotions run their course, suddenly I feel more in control of what's going on inside.
Man oh man does God have a strange sense of humor or what? The very thing I was trying to avoid was the very thing I needed. I guess that's true for all of us isn't it? I'm scrambling around trying to make every ones life calm and peaceful while avoiding the very emotions that if expressed can give me some peace.
Well, there ya have it folks. In the course of a half hour of rambling in a blog I checked my ego at the door and cried or more importantly admitted that I cried! I'm sure the Hubbs will be so grateful he didn't have to witness the crying part. He's not so good with that!
Well, I'm off to the gym! *wink* Let's talk again soon.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Rested in Margaritaville
"Rested away again in Margaritaville
Looking for my lost shaker of sane
Some people claim that there's a
padded room for me but I say
no way
the moves to blame."
I spent 5 days in the Florida Keys with Ma a few weeks back. She had a site visit to take care of and I tagged along. After 2 months of sheer chaos, a week in the tropical keys was just what this gal needed. I'd never been to the Keys but over the past few years I've had 3 separate friends return and tell me that they could see me living there. I was intrigued. Normally people tell me things like "oh these pants are so ugly...they look like you!" Or "this movie was bad, can you explain it to me". I suppose I could be insulted but truth be told I'm usually flattered. So when the topic of the Keys came up I was on board.
Gotta tell ya, they were right but with a twist. The Keys were sensational and I felt more at home than anywhere I've ever been with the possible exception of the North Shore of Oahu. I loved Marathon and Ducks Key. Key West was very cool and I am aware of it being the home of my hero Mr. Buffett but...I'm not sure it was a place to live for me. It was a mixture of Vegas and New Orleans but on the beach. I realized the power of this tiny community when one evening while strolling Duval St with some friends. We stopped at an open air gay bar and watched some rather good looking men in their skivvies dancing on the bar to "Disco Inferno". I heard a female voice singing along from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and to my shock and awe is my classy refined mother with her arms over her head dancing and singing along..."burn baby burn..." I probably need to set this scene better for you to understand the sheer hilarity of it. The friends we were with were a very good friend of my dad's, who is the EX of my mom, and her friend. This was the first time the dad-friend had ever met my mother and she was now doubled over with laughter!
*side note - Yesterday in my women's bible study the question was asked, "what does God do in your life to make you laugh?" Hel-lo he gave me my parents...all of them! Oh, and He's constantly putting events into place in my life that I have nothing else to do but laugh and write about them!*
BACK TO SCENE
You may be questioning if my classy mom was drinking as is the way in Key West but I can say with authority that she wasn't. The strongest thing she'd had was coke lotta ice. See?! It's the power of Key West. It can turn a refined classic woman into a dancing queen, make men wear Bermuda shorts with socks and sandals, make you think pink flamingos are the fashion statement you MUST make, and turn an uptight stressed out writer back into her former self.
Speaking of fashion statements I did make a few myself. There is a great store called Key West Hand Print. They take local artists work and copy the prints onto fabric then make clothes out of them. WOHOOO...I hit the mother load. They were having an 80% off liquidation sale and baby did this unemployed writer stock up. (see previous blogg regarding my shopping!) I bought a bright lime green dress with fuchsia flowers, a multicolor jacket that was pink, tangerine, blue, lemon, and lime colored and to play it safe a white, blue and turquoise skirt. While I still love them, I did question it a bit when I saw the items in the light of AZ reality and not the golden haze of Key West eyes. The Hubb's gave a big exasperated sigh said they were "atrocious but so you" when he viewed my treasures for the first time. (I'm so glad he loves me the way I am)
During this trip I decided that instead of writing about all the wonderful things I noshed on, I'm going to add another blog that is strictly dedicated to places I've visited and the pleasures I've eatten...and the scarey stuff too. I'll send you the link when I have it up and running. But I leave you with this, if you don't like seafood, try it in the Keys. It's a religous experience!
So here's the wrap up:
To my friends that claimed I belong in the Keys - THANK YOU for knowing me so well and you are correct.
If you want to see how kooky your parental units can be, take 'em to Key West.
While on a trip buy something you'd never buy at home...but keep it affordable.
Eat something you wouldn't eat at home. Unless allergic...then skip it!
But most importantly take the time whether it be a week or an hour to give yourself a break. You need it...trust me!
Looking for my lost shaker of sane
Some people claim that there's a
padded room for me but I say
no way
the moves to blame."
I spent 5 days in the Florida Keys with Ma a few weeks back. She had a site visit to take care of and I tagged along. After 2 months of sheer chaos, a week in the tropical keys was just what this gal needed. I'd never been to the Keys but over the past few years I've had 3 separate friends return and tell me that they could see me living there. I was intrigued. Normally people tell me things like "oh these pants are so ugly...they look like you!" Or "this movie was bad, can you explain it to me". I suppose I could be insulted but truth be told I'm usually flattered. So when the topic of the Keys came up I was on board.
Gotta tell ya, they were right but with a twist. The Keys were sensational and I felt more at home than anywhere I've ever been with the possible exception of the North Shore of Oahu. I loved Marathon and Ducks Key. Key West was very cool and I am aware of it being the home of my hero Mr. Buffett but...I'm not sure it was a place to live for me. It was a mixture of Vegas and New Orleans but on the beach. I realized the power of this tiny community when one evening while strolling Duval St with some friends. We stopped at an open air gay bar and watched some rather good looking men in their skivvies dancing on the bar to "Disco Inferno". I heard a female voice singing along from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and to my shock and awe is my classy refined mother with her arms over her head dancing and singing along..."burn baby burn..." I probably need to set this scene better for you to understand the sheer hilarity of it. The friends we were with were a very good friend of my dad's, who is the EX of my mom, and her friend. This was the first time the dad-friend had ever met my mother and she was now doubled over with laughter!
*side note - Yesterday in my women's bible study the question was asked, "what does God do in your life to make you laugh?" Hel-lo he gave me my parents...all of them! Oh, and He's constantly putting events into place in my life that I have nothing else to do but laugh and write about them!*
BACK TO SCENE
You may be questioning if my classy mom was drinking as is the way in Key West but I can say with authority that she wasn't. The strongest thing she'd had was coke lotta ice. See?! It's the power of Key West. It can turn a refined classic woman into a dancing queen, make men wear Bermuda shorts with socks and sandals, make you think pink flamingos are the fashion statement you MUST make, and turn an uptight stressed out writer back into her former self.
Speaking of fashion statements I did make a few myself. There is a great store called Key West Hand Print. They take local artists work and copy the prints onto fabric then make clothes out of them. WOHOOO...I hit the mother load. They were having an 80% off liquidation sale and baby did this unemployed writer stock up. (see previous blogg regarding my shopping!) I bought a bright lime green dress with fuchsia flowers, a multicolor jacket that was pink, tangerine, blue, lemon, and lime colored and to play it safe a white, blue and turquoise skirt. While I still love them, I did question it a bit when I saw the items in the light of AZ reality and not the golden haze of Key West eyes. The Hubb's gave a big exasperated sigh said they were "atrocious but so you" when he viewed my treasures for the first time. (I'm so glad he loves me the way I am)
During this trip I decided that instead of writing about all the wonderful things I noshed on, I'm going to add another blog that is strictly dedicated to places I've visited and the pleasures I've eatten...and the scarey stuff too. I'll send you the link when I have it up and running. But I leave you with this, if you don't like seafood, try it in the Keys. It's a religous experience!
So here's the wrap up:
To my friends that claimed I belong in the Keys - THANK YOU for knowing me so well and you are correct.
If you want to see how kooky your parental units can be, take 'em to Key West.
While on a trip buy something you'd never buy at home...but keep it affordable.
Eat something you wouldn't eat at home. Unless allergic...then skip it!
But most importantly take the time whether it be a week or an hour to give yourself a break. You need it...trust me!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Hello...I'm a Cali-oholic.
There's a 'oholic' for everything these days isn't there? What started with alcohol has morphed into tons of other issue from sports, golfoholic, to chocolate, choco-holic, to shopping. Have grown up in a family that should have the word 'addiction' emblazoned somewhere on the family crest, it's surprising that I myself did not suffer from an addiction to alcohol, food, drugs recreation or prescription. I thought I was in the clear for many years until about 5 years ago when I was struck with the notion that I did in fact have an addiction. It's one that I take very seriously but has become 'cute'. You see "shopaholic in training' on baby onesies and "follow me to the mall" on the license plate covers of many an SUV. Somewhere shopping has become an acceptable past time in the country. It's...well weird.
Today the movie "Confessions of a shopoholic" opened nationwide. You may have seen a commercial or two...(note sarcasm). My mom and I decided to check out what the fuss was all about and I'm embarrassed to say I loved it. Being a writer and have studied film for a very long time I wish that I could say I associated myself with more complex 'art' style films but sadly movies like "Wedding Singer", "Christmas Vacation", "Talledega Nights" and now "Confessions" are where I see myself.
At one point in the film the leading character describes the feeling of shopping and I was salivating. I got it in a big way. Here let me show you: I loved to shop. The energy mixed with muzak of a mall, the hope on every hanger and every shelf. *sigh* The clothes were so neatly arranged by color, all fresh and new. Shoes displayed like art on lit shelves with mirrors reflecting their perfectness. This made sense when my own life was chaotic. I could enter any store from Target to Neimens and the rush was the same. I could chose who I wanted to be at that moment. I poured over magazines so I knew what was new for the season, who was wearing what and how to spot a knock off at 100 yards. I had worth and knowledge no matter how worthless it seems now. I could define myself with a bottle of Chanel perfume or a pair of Betsy Johnson shoes. I could make myself believe I was anyone I wanted to be and that certainly wasn't...well...myself.
I remember this particularly low point when I was in Neiman Marcus at Scottsdale Fashion Square. I was seeking makeup to make me look like Sandra Bullock. (yeah, I have no idea what that was about either) I had no job and no cash but I did have an open credit card for Neimans. After I impulsively decided on $200 worth of makeup the salesgirl, with sympathy, came back to me requesting I go to the 'guest' services desk. This was Neimans, they don't cut your card up at the counter, they send you to a dark corner of the store away from their 'guests' so your humiliation isn't public...thanks...I think.
I remember crying all the way home and not because I was faced with the reality of my own behavior but because I was no longer loved by Neimans. I wish I could say that this event was a turning point in my life but it wasn't. I didn't change my behavior until almost 10 years later. Wow that's ugly to see in print!
You see, I get how addictions form and they can take any action whether it be in drink or spending or any other way. There's a feeling of euphoria that takes over and then you chase that same feeling when it begins to fade. The irony is of course your behavior usually causes the depressed state that causes more of the same action.
When I quit shopping I see now I how simply changed how I defined myself and decided that I was "the girl from SoCal". In my family Southern California is the 'holy grail'. Many have tried to live there and most have come back with their tail between their legs. By some grace of God I managed to be there 10 years with a modicum of success. Moving back to AZ was humiliating no matter how it happened. What's really be irritating lately is how much I've liked being back. I love the less traffic, on the freeway and in Trader Joes! I love being close to my friends and family and reconnecting with past friends. My mom commented on how much calmer I seemed and I swear it got under my skin. "No way man. I don't belong here so there's no way I'm calm here!" LOL...even I can see how much I sound like an insolent child!
I was struck by a line in the movie today about defining ourselves. I won't spoil it for you and quote it but here's what I took; what defines you as a person? Is it your job? Your family? Your possessions? I suddenly found myself with no definition, muscle or otherwise. I wasn't' teaching Jazzercise, wasn't writing, and more importantly I wasn't in California anymore. All the way home from the movie, which incidentally we watched at Scottsdale Fashion Mall, I asked myself this question. A few things came to mind which you know I'm going to share!
I define myself by the joy I see in the Hubb's eyes when he laughs at my corny jokes. I define myself at the ability to make my best friends laugh even while their crying. I define myself as the girl who can dance in the store with her God Daughter and not care who's watching. I define myself as the girl who can forgive no matter how hard it may seem. But more important than all of that I learned this week, thanks to my women's group, that I'm a daughter of the King. I...we are royalty. We are Princesses and not just by bedazzling that across a t-shirt (though I do love a good bedazzle). We are the example of the Prince of Peace. I LOVE that!!
So now let me ask you, what defines you?
Today the movie "Confessions of a shopoholic" opened nationwide. You may have seen a commercial or two...(note sarcasm). My mom and I decided to check out what the fuss was all about and I'm embarrassed to say I loved it. Being a writer and have studied film for a very long time I wish that I could say I associated myself with more complex 'art' style films but sadly movies like "Wedding Singer", "Christmas Vacation", "Talledega Nights" and now "Confessions" are where I see myself.
At one point in the film the leading character describes the feeling of shopping and I was salivating. I got it in a big way. Here let me show you: I loved to shop. The energy mixed with muzak of a mall, the hope on every hanger and every shelf. *sigh* The clothes were so neatly arranged by color, all fresh and new. Shoes displayed like art on lit shelves with mirrors reflecting their perfectness. This made sense when my own life was chaotic. I could enter any store from Target to Neimens and the rush was the same. I could chose who I wanted to be at that moment. I poured over magazines so I knew what was new for the season, who was wearing what and how to spot a knock off at 100 yards. I had worth and knowledge no matter how worthless it seems now. I could define myself with a bottle of Chanel perfume or a pair of Betsy Johnson shoes. I could make myself believe I was anyone I wanted to be and that certainly wasn't...well...myself.
I remember this particularly low point when I was in Neiman Marcus at Scottsdale Fashion Square. I was seeking makeup to make me look like Sandra Bullock. (yeah, I have no idea what that was about either) I had no job and no cash but I did have an open credit card for Neimans. After I impulsively decided on $200 worth of makeup the salesgirl, with sympathy, came back to me requesting I go to the 'guest' services desk. This was Neimans, they don't cut your card up at the counter, they send you to a dark corner of the store away from their 'guests' so your humiliation isn't public...thanks...I think.
I remember crying all the way home and not because I was faced with the reality of my own behavior but because I was no longer loved by Neimans. I wish I could say that this event was a turning point in my life but it wasn't. I didn't change my behavior until almost 10 years later. Wow that's ugly to see in print!
You see, I get how addictions form and they can take any action whether it be in drink or spending or any other way. There's a feeling of euphoria that takes over and then you chase that same feeling when it begins to fade. The irony is of course your behavior usually causes the depressed state that causes more of the same action.
When I quit shopping I see now I how simply changed how I defined myself and decided that I was "the girl from SoCal". In my family Southern California is the 'holy grail'. Many have tried to live there and most have come back with their tail between their legs. By some grace of God I managed to be there 10 years with a modicum of success. Moving back to AZ was humiliating no matter how it happened. What's really be irritating lately is how much I've liked being back. I love the less traffic, on the freeway and in Trader Joes! I love being close to my friends and family and reconnecting with past friends. My mom commented on how much calmer I seemed and I swear it got under my skin. "No way man. I don't belong here so there's no way I'm calm here!" LOL...even I can see how much I sound like an insolent child!
I was struck by a line in the movie today about defining ourselves. I won't spoil it for you and quote it but here's what I took; what defines you as a person? Is it your job? Your family? Your possessions? I suddenly found myself with no definition, muscle or otherwise. I wasn't' teaching Jazzercise, wasn't writing, and more importantly I wasn't in California anymore. All the way home from the movie, which incidentally we watched at Scottsdale Fashion Mall, I asked myself this question. A few things came to mind which you know I'm going to share!
I define myself by the joy I see in the Hubb's eyes when he laughs at my corny jokes. I define myself at the ability to make my best friends laugh even while their crying. I define myself as the girl who can dance in the store with her God Daughter and not care who's watching. I define myself as the girl who can forgive no matter how hard it may seem. But more important than all of that I learned this week, thanks to my women's group, that I'm a daughter of the King. I...we are royalty. We are Princesses and not just by bedazzling that across a t-shirt (though I do love a good bedazzle). We are the example of the Prince of Peace. I LOVE that!!
So now let me ask you, what defines you?
Monday, February 9, 2009
Holey crap do we have alot of stuff!!
One of the many side effects of moving is the discovery of exactly how much crap you've accumulated. The longer you've lived in the previous location is usually in direct correlation of the amount of said crap. I, for example, lived in my last place for 7 years and 4 months so using my formula, I should have 7 x the amount of crap I had when I lived for a year in the place before that. Sadly I don't have 7 x the crap...I have about 14x the crap! I think the discrepancy is due to the Hubbs joining me a year into the 7 years and a wedding which included the usual wondrous collection of wedding gifts.
I read somewhere that when you've been in a place along time its usual to stay comfortable and not change much in the way of your lifestyle. Moving however throws you whole life into turmoil so its much easier to make changes. I've discovered that to be true in 3-D and technicolor! We currently have 7 large boxes crowding our dining room overflowing with treasures we no longer wish to own and certainly don't want to move again. They are the soon to be garage sale items. Now this is after last year's purge of 4 truck bed loads of 'treasures' to our church thrift store. I suppose I could be embarrassed at the shear amount of stuff...but I'm not. I don't think I'm alone in this affliction of 'too muchitis'. Just a stroll around Bed Bath & Beyond and seeing what sort of do-dads are in peoples carts begs the question "where are you gonna put all that crap?" *Side note, don't actually ask people that out loud. They don't find it helpful and you'll be asked to leave the store.
Anyway, I did find a rather surprising effect of going through all my things and that was a impromptu skip down memory lane. Saturday evening I found a box that contained photos and memorabilia I had collected during my formative days, ie: kindergarten thru high school. (Spoiler alert, many of these items will be available on Facebook soon!) Photos taken with my first camera, a gray and pink Click disk, do they still make the film for those? Birthday, 1st communion and get well cards, large 8x10 photos of posed military ball and prom dates...which funny enough I had the same 2 dates for most of them! I was constantly caught between laughing at our hair and clothes and tears of the sweet memories. The Hubb's was a good sport during this 2 hour period. I'm sure he was bored at the "oh look at this one" or "here's another pic of an ex boyfriend".
So your asking yourself what's my point or better why did I read her ramblings? I think its this, go find your memories or better yet discover what your memories are. This journey is painful, fun, surprising and enlightening. My mom always tells me that I haven't changed much and am still the 3 year old who needs a nap at 3 o'clock. Usually that irritates me but now I see how right she is. Through friends I've kept in contact with for 20+ years as well as the reconnects thanks to Facebook, I see how my friends are still the same. Maybe a few hairs less and a few lbs more but the humor, the passions, the personalities are still the same and for that I say Thank you God for the people in my life!
I read somewhere that when you've been in a place along time its usual to stay comfortable and not change much in the way of your lifestyle. Moving however throws you whole life into turmoil so its much easier to make changes. I've discovered that to be true in 3-D and technicolor! We currently have 7 large boxes crowding our dining room overflowing with treasures we no longer wish to own and certainly don't want to move again. They are the soon to be garage sale items. Now this is after last year's purge of 4 truck bed loads of 'treasures' to our church thrift store. I suppose I could be embarrassed at the shear amount of stuff...but I'm not. I don't think I'm alone in this affliction of 'too muchitis'. Just a stroll around Bed Bath & Beyond and seeing what sort of do-dads are in peoples carts begs the question "where are you gonna put all that crap?" *Side note, don't actually ask people that out loud. They don't find it helpful and you'll be asked to leave the store.
Anyway, I did find a rather surprising effect of going through all my things and that was a impromptu skip down memory lane. Saturday evening I found a box that contained photos and memorabilia I had collected during my formative days, ie: kindergarten thru high school. (Spoiler alert, many of these items will be available on Facebook soon!) Photos taken with my first camera, a gray and pink Click disk, do they still make the film for those? Birthday, 1st communion and get well cards, large 8x10 photos of posed military ball and prom dates...which funny enough I had the same 2 dates for most of them! I was constantly caught between laughing at our hair and clothes and tears of the sweet memories. The Hubb's was a good sport during this 2 hour period. I'm sure he was bored at the "oh look at this one" or "here's another pic of an ex boyfriend".
So your asking yourself what's my point or better why did I read her ramblings? I think its this, go find your memories or better yet discover what your memories are. This journey is painful, fun, surprising and enlightening. My mom always tells me that I haven't changed much and am still the 3 year old who needs a nap at 3 o'clock. Usually that irritates me but now I see how right she is. Through friends I've kept in contact with for 20+ years as well as the reconnects thanks to Facebook, I see how my friends are still the same. Maybe a few hairs less and a few lbs more but the humor, the passions, the personalities are still the same and for that I say Thank you God for the people in my life!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
What the heck just happened?
I love Southern California aka, SoCal. I've wanted to live there since I was 8 years old and we visited my uncles who 'worked in the biz' and lived in the Valley. I dreamt of going to UCLA, taking up surfing and becoming a 6 foot blond with blue eyes and rack that was the envy of plastic surgeons everywhere.
Well, I didn't attend UCLA, I'm terrified of the creators at the bottom of the ocean and I'm still a 5'5" brunette. However I did get to live in LA for 10 years and I do have a pretty great rack! So how the heck did I end up back in Arizona?! *loud exhale of exasperation"
It all started Dec 3, just a few days after the Thanksgiving weekend. The Hubbs came home with the grand announcement "how about when we go to Phoenix for Christmas we don't come home?" At my gaping mouth he proceeds to tell me that his boss offered him a promotion that included a move to Chandler AZ. After his emotional bomb he dances off to our home office, in ignorant bliss, to finish working on a project. I stagger around my perfect 2 block from the ocean, just finished painting and furnishing to my delight, Long Beach apartment in complete shock.
Arizona?? No no no no. I was NEVER moving back to Arizona. If you're a Zonie and getting all unraveled, settle down. I love AZ. I love the desert and the smell of pinon wood after a rain. The heat never bothered me and the winters are what midwesterns have dreams about. I already DID Arizona. I lived there for 14 years from age 10 -24. It was my holding tank for my life in SoCal. I'm a Cali girl. So what the heck just happened?
Fast forward two months to the day and I'm sitting at my beloved computer in a second floor apartment in Chandler AZ, nary an ocean in sight. God has a pretty funny sense of humor.
So while I don't know why I'm here, the Hubb's purpose is pretty clear. So I think I'll stick around and see what the big Guy upstairs has in mind for his stubborn child...(that's me).
Well, I didn't attend UCLA, I'm terrified of the creators at the bottom of the ocean and I'm still a 5'5" brunette. However I did get to live in LA for 10 years and I do have a pretty great rack! So how the heck did I end up back in Arizona?! *loud exhale of exasperation"
It all started Dec 3, just a few days after the Thanksgiving weekend. The Hubbs came home with the grand announcement "how about when we go to Phoenix for Christmas we don't come home?" At my gaping mouth he proceeds to tell me that his boss offered him a promotion that included a move to Chandler AZ. After his emotional bomb he dances off to our home office, in ignorant bliss, to finish working on a project. I stagger around my perfect 2 block from the ocean, just finished painting and furnishing to my delight, Long Beach apartment in complete shock.
Arizona?? No no no no. I was NEVER moving back to Arizona. If you're a Zonie and getting all unraveled, settle down. I love AZ. I love the desert and the smell of pinon wood after a rain. The heat never bothered me and the winters are what midwesterns have dreams about. I already DID Arizona. I lived there for 14 years from age 10 -24. It was my holding tank for my life in SoCal. I'm a Cali girl. So what the heck just happened?
Fast forward two months to the day and I'm sitting at my beloved computer in a second floor apartment in Chandler AZ, nary an ocean in sight. God has a pretty funny sense of humor.
So while I don't know why I'm here, the Hubb's purpose is pretty clear. So I think I'll stick around and see what the big Guy upstairs has in mind for his stubborn child...(that's me).
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