tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91614266811457520272024-03-05T16:18:34.022-05:00Ramblings of an Obsolete HousewifeA written and photo journal of my often humorous thoughts on a life that even I sometimes wonder about.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-10903438993039212732017-03-14T16:17:00.000-04:002017-03-14T22:29:52.803-04:00I Few of My Not So Favorite Things about Cancer<div>
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This list has made me feel better than any conversation or therapy session that I have had since my diagnosis. </div>
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I don't like what I have become.<br />
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I don't like what this experience has done to me. </div>
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I don't like that I am still struggling. </div>
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I don't like that I am in pain most of the time.</div>
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I don't like that I have to do this alone. </div>
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I don't like feeling that no one really wants to know how I am doing.</div>
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I don't like having to pretend that I am okay for my family.</div>
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I don't like how I look now.</div>
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I don't like waking up. </div>
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I don't like that I have to get dressed in the morning. </div>
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I don't like people telling me that I look normal.</div>
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I don't like that I have to do normal things. </div>
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I don't like that others are living full busy lives. </div>
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I don't like that I have had to face death. </div>
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I don't like that I have crumbled under the weight of it all. </div>
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I don't like that I am just a number to the doctors and health professionals. </div>
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I don't like that when people find out about me they have to share about someone they know with cancer. </div>
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I don't like feeling that I am just one of millions with this problem. </div>
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I don't like being told that my feelings will pass. </div>
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I don't like being told that I will be normal again. </div>
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I don't like that my husband is bored with this. </div>
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I don't like that I can't give myself any grace. </div>
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I don't like having to be mom and all that still entails. </div>
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I don't like failing at being mom and all that entails. </div>
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I don't like that I feel abandoned by my family and friends. </div>
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I don't like that I now know that I am not in control of anything. </div>
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I don't like having my bruised body cut open every week and my skin stretched beyond a normal threshold of pain. </div>
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I don't like that I am doing this just to look normal in my clothes. </div>
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I don't like being told that it isn't that bad. </div>
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I don't like that I am scared, sad and angry most of the time. </div>
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I don't like pretending that I am not scared, sad or angry most of the time.</div>
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I don't like that I am not stronger. </div>
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I don't like that something this small has shaken me so badly. </div>
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I don't like that my faith feels weak. </div>
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I don't like that I no longer care about the things that mattered before this.</div>
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I don't like that I have to let a new life evolve. </div>
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I don't like that I don't know what I feel anymore. </div>
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I don't like that the best part of my day is the evening when I binge watch Netflix while drinking wine and eating crappy snacks. </div>
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I don't like that I feel patronized and misunderstood. </div>
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I don't like that those that I thought would help get me through this can't or won't.</div>
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I don't like that this realization has been more painful than any of the treatments I have gone through. </div>
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I don't like how feeling alive scares me. </div>
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I don't like that this has taken nearly 6 months of my life. </div>
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I don't like that I have to rebuild myself. </div>
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I don't like that I have survivors guilt. </div>
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I don't like that what I am feeling seems foreign to those around me. </div>
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I don't like that I have had to make difficult choices. </div>
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I don't like having to live with my choices. </div>
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I don't like that I have to be here. </div>
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I don't like how tired I have become. </div>
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I don't like feeling vulnerable. </div>
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I don't like pretending that I care when people are talking to me about their lives.</div>
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I don't like not caring about other people's lives. </div>
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I don't like anything about cancer and what it has done to me. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-3304226908267590442017-02-15T17:08:00.001-05:002017-02-15T17:08:38.275-05:00 The Hollow TruthI have not written much lately, even in my safe black leather bound journal. I honestly don't even know what to write or feel anymore. This has been one of the most confusing seasons of my life. If I thought at any point in the last few years that I had achieved some greatness of truth or developed a bit of wisdom from years of actively living, then I now know that I was wrong. I feel like any value or any knowledge that I might have been able to contribute to the world at large has vanished. I wake up each day more and more unsure of who I am and why I am still here. If I could stay in my small bubble of one away from others, this actually wouldn't be all that bad. It could even feel comforting to have such little accountability. But, I don't have that luxury. I have teenagers to finish raising and a husband that needs a partner. I have friends that my put together appearance has fooled into believing that I can still offer advice or help with paint color choices. In essence, my small world seems to think that I still have value. But, I feel more like a hollowed out shell. I am not sure if I am a sham of what I once was or if the sham that I have always been is now exposed.<br />
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Perhaps, this is a chance at a new beginning for me. Thanks to cancer, my slate has been wiped clean. Maybe, I can start over as I attain new knowledge and wisdom born from a place of true brokenness. It is possible and even probable, but for now I am still empty. I am a person that has nothing to give and this makes me feel ashamed.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-59189671119638204642017-01-18T11:26:00.001-05:002017-01-18T11:26:10.269-05:00The Strength of HonestyYesterday, I found myself sitting in a beige overstuffed recliner from the 80's facing my on again off again therapist. I had just been given the one word definition of anxiety: Fear. After her textbook pause for effect, she posed the inevitable question: What is your biggest fear?<br />
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To help with context, let me give a brief synopsis of my current cause for anxiety. I have a big deadline on Friday. I have to make a decision as to whether or not I sign on for 28 treatments of radiation to my chest wall. I could give you all the fun facts as to why this decision has to be made. Perhaps I should, that way you could all (meaning, Janice) weigh in on what I should do and make my choice for me. But, that would be counter productive because no matter how much I wish it weren't true, I am the only one that can make this decision. I alone have to say 'yes' or 'no' and live with the consequences. I will however point out that my situation is not a simple one. There is no big flashing red arrow pointing me in a positive or negative direction. Some words that were used by the best and brightest in Kalamazoo were 'probability', '.5 mm', 'consider', 'statistics', 'percentage,' 'risks', 'gray' and my personal favorite 'maybe'. For the past 4 weeks, I have been using these comforting words to process my final decision. </div>
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I know what my surgeon would do, I know what my friends would do, I know what my husband thinks we have agreed to do, I even know what Jesus would do, but I honestly don't know what I will do.</div>
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This morning I let my mind wander back to the dimly lit room with the big chair, my therapist, and an unanswered question. I was not able to come up with just one answer. For the last three months so many different fears had driven my existence. How was I to know which one was my biggest? Then, nearly all of my crazy irrational thoughts disappeared and only one remained. Perhaps, this was the one. The one that kept me from doing what seemed so obvious to so many. The one that kept me from walking in with confidence on Friday and saying, 'The risks don't out weigh the benefits so my answer is, no.'</div>
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<i>I am afraid a small part of the cancer is still there, that it will show up again someday and that next time my family will lose me. </i></div>
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I have let this post sit for a day after writing the above words. Could this fear possibly happen? There is a probability that statistically the percentage of risk in my gray situation could involve the above scenario. But, 24 hours later this fear doesn't seem to have the power that it once did. Perhaps, by taking the time to be honest with myself and recognizing what is driving my fear is all it takes to destroy the debilitating power they it can have on me. No doubt there will be more anxiety and fear, but choosing to be honest instead of strong in those moments might actually provide the real strength I need to free myself from them.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-23197050353860784542017-01-08T15:18:00.001-05:002017-01-09T06:57:34.292-05:00Cliches and Unsolicited AdviceThe beauty of my blog is that little to no thought goes into what I write. I wait until I have a moment and then just go ahead and dump the contents of my head onto a blank page. Not sure if this is standard blogging protocol, but based on my non existent readership, I'd say that this probably isn't the best way to go about things. Of course, this changes nothing and I will now dump my latest reflections.<br />
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I have been on this cancer journey for 3 months now. Unfortunately, it continues to throw me curve balls. After talking with and reading about people that have also been on this journey, I have come to the conclusion that these curve balls are just par for the course. It is just part of getting to travel this road. I will pause now and reflect upon the ridiculous number of cliches that I have just used to describe having cancer. Which leads me to my next thought, cancer is a really really uncomfortable thing to talk about. It makes people nervous. Those that don't have it, have no idea what to think about it and honestly find the whole idea very uncomfortable. Those that do have it are very aware of this since at some point they were in the 'don't have it' group, so they go out of their way to put a positive spin on everything and use words like 'journey' and 'road' to try and make everyone feel better. I am pretty sure that it doesn't work. No one is fooled by these ridiculous words. Cancer is not a journey or a road; it is a disease. And, since we are being honest here, it is a life threatening disease that doesn't always end well. I have this disease, and even though I don't plan on having it for long, I still have it. Even though I plan on fighting and doing what it takes to heal, I still have it. Even though I believe that God loves me and can heal my body, I still have it. Even if I choose to put a positive spin on it, I still have it.<br />
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What are we all supposed to do then? Being that I am not a licensed psychologist with a specialty in grief counseling, I can only give my humble opinion. Those of us with cancer need to be honest about our 'journey', and those without it need to come alongside and 'just be' available... a lot. Let us know that it is okay that we are overwhelmed and scared. That we don't have to always get it right, just so one day we can write a brilliant and inspirational memoir that, let's be honest, will only make others struggling with cancer feel like crap. Basically, just give us the space to breathe through this messy situation, knowing that some days we will be better at it than others. Don't forget that although you may soon become bored with this 'project', the person with the disease doesn't get that luxury and that they can't afford to go through this alone. I guess what I am trying to say is the person with cancer has to wake up each day and face a strange new existence; it would be nice if they had a few familiar faces waiting there on occasion.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-64833219836855874482016-12-31T15:43:00.002-05:002017-01-01T09:34:18.008-05:00To Just Be"Allowing yourself frailty is one of the kindest things you can do for yourself."<br />
- From the Book <i>Undone</i><br />
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I can't seem to break the habit of journaling in real notebooks. It just doesn't seem as cozy to curl up in a chair by the fire with my computer. I remember years ago when I was much more diligent with this blog, I had the most adorable green laptop. Alas it is no longer, and now I have a plain black one that doesn't seem to bring me nearly the same amount of joy as I type. Perhaps, that is the root of my problem and not the need for ink and paper by the fireside. Anyway, here is a transcription of my latest thoughts or at least some very recent ones.<br />
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What will my life look like moving forward? I don't know. I am trying to have it all figured out now and that is not possible.<br />
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After a few weeks of kicking and screaming, in my head, I am finally getting used to the rhythm of rest. Sometimes, I feel guilty about it. I think that is when I am grateful for the pain. The pain reminds me that it is okay to sit and live quietly. As much as I hate the pain, it is for this reason that I am always relieved when it shows up again.<br />
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Normally when I get too comfortable with the quiet, I tell myself that I am dangerously teetering on giving up, becoming lazy or quitting life. Usually, this is all it takes to scare myself into picking up my burdens and responsibilities and continuing on no matter how uncomfortable or tiring they may be. But, now I find myself thinking very differently. I wonder if I am so necessary and valuable that the world will crumble if I stop. I have faced death or at least the possibility of it. What will happen to my family, friends and world? Will they die too? No, they will go on living and functioning without me.<br />
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I am no one's savior. I am just a woman that has never given herself permission to rest more than a week or two...ever. One that also has a warped sense of what she has brought to the table. The world can and will go on without me.<br />
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Today, I give myself permission to rest indefinitely...to rest as long as I need it physically and emotionally. Just because I can now do almost everything (albeit at a slower pace) that I once did before my surgery, doesn't mean that I have to. I am checking out for as long as I see fit, maybe for good. Although my contribution to the world might be helpful, it is not essential. I have worked myself into a frenzy for years under the false narrative that I am essential that if I don't deliver others will fall apart. I have driven myself into a permanent state of anxiety and perfection for something that isn't even real.<br />
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I am just an ordinary person that has an ordinary life to live. Imagine the peace I can have if I choose to live it for the right reasons, to finally just be. All of my striving and pushing goes with me when I die. All I've done begins to fade as those still living make their own choices and decisions sans me. To only do what I should do, not what I can do, might be the beginning of a beautiful way of finishing this life.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-46260186395849889542016-12-27T20:20:00.000-05:002016-12-27T20:25:43.044-05:00A New NormalI have always done my clearest thinking while writing. My thoughts seem to untangle themselves as they take shape on the page. If I choose to leave them in my head, they just seem to swirl around causing chaos and confusion. I suppose that they would sort themselves out just as well if I were to speak them aloud. No one has ever accused me of not being able to express myself verbally. But, I live a quiet life brought about by years of transient living and the only people that seem to cross my path on a daily basis are my husband and teenage boys. I have learned over the years that anything verbally communicated to them must be done in a single sentence and, optimally, one that only involves a simple subject and verb. So, that brings me back to writing. I have not maintained this blog very well.This is partly because I have embraced chaos and confusion the last few years and just let insanity grow in my head. But, mostly, it is due to the fact that what I needed to write the last few years was so personal that sending it out into the abyss of this blog was more than I was willing to share, even with the Russians. Instead, I filled up several journals with a copious amount of complex questions accompanied by an occasional answer.<br />
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I find myself facing one of my most personal crises to date. But, instead of beginning another tastefully bound notebook, I find myself, once again, drawn to the abyss. My thoughts and feelings need somewhere to go besides the basket next to my couch. They need room to breathe, to work themselves out and to hopefully return to me with some much needed clarity. I don't know how they will come out or in what order they will present themselves, but I do know that they will show up when it is their time to be released.<br />
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About a month ago, I sent out an email entitled "My Life at the Moment" to a select group of friends around the country. They had nothing in common with one another other than the fact that at some point in the last 30 years they had played the important role of friendship in my life. I was facing a scary and uncertain future and I needed to know that I wasn't alone. I needed to know that someone knew I had been diagnosed with breast cancer a few months before and that I was about to have a terrifying surgery to remove not only the cancer but my right breast. I just needed to know I wasn't alone. That was my only motive. I knew that some of them would encourage me and others would pray; I also knew that some wouldn't respond at all. Looking back, it was never about the responses. Actually, what I really wanted to do was scream into the universe my anger, fear and frustration, but being a semi reasonable adult that wasn't an option, so a group email was the next best thing. This email loop became a way for me to check in with myself weekly, to let me know where I stood in this process. Gradually, the responses became less and less. My updates had run their course. I had gone through the surgery and survived. I was healing at a normal and expected rate. I was given a less than desirable but typical post surgery treatment plan. My updates were becoming nothing more than one more email to have to 'check' in already out of control inboxes. I completely understood; it was never really about them anyway. It was just a way to make sense of it all. I have put the email loop to rest. But, find that I still need to send updates out to myself to let me know that I'm still here. I still need answers to all the questions and fears that haunt me daily. My hope is that with each post God will begin to provide the clarity needed to move into a new and unexpected normal.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-90834389448474371182015-09-16T20:47:00.001-04:002015-09-16T20:47:56.572-04:00Just in Case You Were Wondering<div style="border: currentColor;">
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>For those that have been asking and for those that have not but stumbled across this post anyway, h</em></span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>ere are some non professional before and after shots of our new home in Michigan taken over the last 3 months of non stop work. I am really pleased with what we were able to achieve on a limited budget in such a short period of time. No doubt there will be more pictures to come as we complete more spaces and tweak what has already been 'completed'. </i></span><br />
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<em><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Times;">*Side Note: I absolutely hate that I can't figure out how to adjust the obnoxious brown border that is now around my photos. I have spent too much of what is left of the technical side of my brain trying to fix this tonight. Perhaps another time, but most likely not.</span></em></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen Before<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pjGVpXPoFlIU0J9fO5U24hJMftvqHJ8-KlT2z-FgwLkNdfHIm64AoSjPeTLTIOYVe7o9h3iMNIAUSIXdogIDH36lBouhxHZqNSn1hwjeMAYgt006EPrfdK5EIvdLo83R426zX2sk6fWl/s1600/DSCN3022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pjGVpXPoFlIU0J9fO5U24hJMftvqHJ8-KlT2z-FgwLkNdfHIm64AoSjPeTLTIOYVe7o9h3iMNIAUSIXdogIDH36lBouhxHZqNSn1hwjeMAYgt006EPrfdK5EIvdLo83R426zX2sk6fWl/s400/DSCN3022.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Kitchen After<br />
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Breakfast Nook Before<br />
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Breakfast Nook After<br />
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Another View of Breakfast Nook Before<br />
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After<br />
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One More After<br />
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Dining Room Before<br />
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Dining Room After<br />
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Living Room Before<br />
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Living Room After<br />
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Living Room Before<br />
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Living Room After<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-3670866463302676692015-01-15T18:52:00.001-05:002015-01-15T21:18:21.631-05:00R.W. Emerson and I Might Have Been FriendsI find myself with a little time on my hands. What this really means is that I have forgotten to do something. But, that is neither here nor there since it has been forgotten. Today, I was reading a book by R.W. Emerson entitled <em>Love and Friendship. </em>Ralph Waldo and I have been on first initial terms for years now. This pretty much began when I purchased the above mentioned book at an estate sale and noted that he referred to himself as RW. Feel free to look up the book to verify this. If you do, let me know if the actual title is<em> Love and Friendship. </em>Anyway, RW says that the two things that must be present in order for friendship to exist are sincerity and tenderness. He goes on for pages elaborating in ways that are mostly over my head. Nevertheless, I think that I concur. In order for friendship to exist, both parties must be truthfully transparent but with a lens that desires to know and love the core of a person. I realize that me and RW have lofty aspirations for friendship, which is why my existence, much like his, is somewhat isolated.<br />
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I have no doubt there are a plethora of people out there that consider me their friend. Not because I am so amazing, but because modern culture uses the word 'friend' to mean anyone that you met for coffee and blessed with your presence once or twice. I, however, do not consider these people to be my friends. Although, occasionally, these meetings include sincerity, there is never time for tenderness. Tenderness requires a desire for genuine connection. It cannot be accomplished when there are pressing matters or better 'friends' to rush off to long before a $4 cup of coffee or $15 meal can get cold. <br />
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My definition of friendship might be a bit out dated, after all RW has been gone for quite some time now, but it is a beautiful ideal. One that has the potential to bring life and affirmation to all involved. Two things that most of us, if we are being honest, are desperate for.<br />
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In case you are wondering or possibly even worrying if we are friends, just ask yourself three questions.<br />
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(1) Have you and I been sincere with one another?<br />
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(2) At some point over the years, have we made time and room for one another in the chaos that is life?<br />
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(3) Have we ever had coffee together?<br />
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If your answers to these questions are 'no', 'no' and 'what is she talking about?', it is a pretty safe bet we are merely acquaintances. This is not a bad thing; acquaintances are great if you need to borrow something, have a laugh or plan a well balanced party. Feel free to use my little test to see where you stand with others. And, do yourself the favor of making sure you have at least one person in your life that gets a couple affirmative answers.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-83429337973517159172014-02-05T21:32:00.002-05:002015-09-20T18:00:21.181-04:00Unseen Worth<br />
Let me start off by saying that I am very tired. Not in a "I sure could use a nap kind of way", but true exhaustion. The kind of blinding weariness that can only come with too much hope deffered. Don't get me wrong, I have never believed that I am living a fairy tale and that a simple clicking of heels can get me out of this predicament called life. But, after nearly 40 years of existing and observing, I currently find myself frustrated. I could go on a tirade about how modern living has created a bunch of sociopaths that whine if they don't get their way. "I really need a job with more hours making more money, so that I can buy all the things that I deserve" But, then whine even louder when they do get their way. " I hate my job and hate that I have to go to work AGAIN today." Thankfully, I don't feel like going off on that particular tirade, at the moment. The masses have been spared my sad little commentary.<br />
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Today, my tirade is about myself. I once again find myself dealing with the aftermath of a less than stellar parenting moment. The details are sad. But, the real sadness lies in their repetitive nature. On the surface, it seems to come down to me having to face the reality that my 14 year old son doesn't seem to value education. He seems caught up in a world of his own making, where Minecraft servers and imaginary Skype friends trump real life. Who is to blame for this? That's a rhetorical question, because I know that I am. <br />
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Even as I write this, I know that Minecraft is not the problem. He has always viewed education as something to be endured, something that was created to point out how stupid or less than he is. Actually, he hasn't always felt this way. I remember him running or at least walking on his own free will into kindergarten eager to see what the day had in store. It wasn't long though, until his teacher sat me down and began to explain that he wasn't getting 'it'. She encouraged me to hold him back. She was the first of many professionals to point out that something wasn't right. I could share the details of the next decade of both our lives, but I don't think I have the strength to relive that kind of pain again. Just know that many years later, I have a young man who doesn't know is own value and worth. I have tried so hard to let him know how amazing he is. But, I am flawed and every time I have come across a proud parent bragging about how smart their child is because they are writing novellas in the third grade or teaching themselves Chinese, I find it a little harder to convince him and myself that he is 'amazing'. These proud parents have never gone away and thanks to social media I am inundated with them much more often than my psyche can handle. I understand that they mean no harm and want to give their kids their due or accolades for jobs well done. But, it has made it nearly impossible for this parent to keep looking at her son and see someone of value. Oh, I know he has value. He has a kind heart and a quick whit. He doesn't care about outside appearances and can spot BS a mile away. He is wise beyond his years and has a beautiful old soul. But, I don't 'see' his value, because in the world's eyes he has none. He has had to fight for every ounce of success that he has had. And, his success hasn't been measured in how fast he can read, but the fact that he can. Nor can it be measured in spelling bees or poetry contests or dean's lists. His success is that he can now quietly blend in the background, so that no teacher will again approach his mother and say something is wrong. I am so proud of all his accomplishments. We both fought so hard for every single one. But, I can't brag about them. No, on a good day I get to hide them so that no one sees his flaws or what him and I refer to as his successes. <br />
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My son knows he has no value in the world's eyes. He knows his parents have nothing to brag about. He hides his hurt and his own reality with the grace and dignity of someone many times his age. In actuality, he has become so gifted in this deception that I rarely see his pain. So rare is my glimpse that I too begin to compare him to all the people with visible value out there and see how short he comes up. I forget about all his hard won successes and tear into him hoping to pull out something that the world can value. He quietly takes it never voicing an ounce of emotion. So, I press even harder. Hoping, that this will finally be the moment when he becomes like everyone else. I am relentless and cold in my battle for his worth. Then when it is too late to stop or fix it, I see his brokenness and hurt staring at me. I see in his eyes sadness and shame. He knows his lack has, once again, been exposed to the one person that was supposed to protect and encourage him, the same person that fought so hard with him for all he has managed to accomplish. The raw pain staring at me rips through my chest and I know that I can't fix what I have done. I can only give him the space to once again put back on his mask of indifference.<br />
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So today if I seem a little tired, it's because I am.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-28172985015400868072013-12-18T15:21:00.000-05:002013-12-18T15:21:43.836-05:00Revisiting the PastDue to my current state of lack lusterness, I posted a version of my annual Christmas letter on this blog, yesterday. The only reason I did this was so that I wouldn't have to stuff, address, sign and mail some 40 odd envelopes this holiday season. As a result, I find myself reading over some interesting older posts and some pretty poorly written newer ones. If I were a different type of person, I would delete anything written post 2011. However, I am an honest person and feel that all versions of myself should be on display for the general public's viewing pleasure. That being said, do me a favor take the time to look back over anything written in 2011. I was quite well versed and insightful that year. For anyone feeling as lack luster about this as I was about my Christmas letter, I will repost one of my personal favorites. Feel free to sit back and enjoy.<br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
<a href="http://ramblingsofanobsoletehousewife.blogspot.com/2011/02/most-selfish-creature.html"><span style="color: #b28520;">A
Most Selfish Creature</span></a> </h3>
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<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1398303447506937657" itemprop="description articleBody">
I think if I had been left to my own devices,
I could have been a most selfish creature. My days drift in a pattern of
serving others. It begins often before I am even awake. Somewhere between 1
and 3 a.m., when my 6 year old crawls into the bed and I slide over to make
room. Even my smile seems selfless at times. I often bestow it wearily in my
attempt to hide my worry for one of my children. Daily, I practice giving of
myself. Despite being decades into this practice, I still, at times, find it
unnatural. Which leads me to my current mode of thought: I could have been a
most selfish creature.<br /><br />I imagine I could spend hours lying in bed each
morning, too exhausted from thinking of myself the previous day to get up.
I believe that I could spend an additional few hours powdering my nose and
meticulously hiding my flaws. I suppose I could prepare a meal with only me and
my desires in mind and then leave the mess to clean up itself. Indeed I have no
doubt that I could talk endlessly about myself with such flourish that those
around me have no choice but to be silenced. I know that this could all be
pulled off with amazingly little effort on my part.<br /><br />Thankfully, I was not
left to my own devices. And, although at times I resent my responsibilities and
find my mind in a state of unrest, I know that these same responsibilities
and 'stressful' thoughts are what keep me from being the anti-heroine in my own
novel. They are the catalysts moving my story somewhere, in my humanness, I was
never meant to go. A place of wholeness that can only be found in losing
myself. At the end of this exhausting day, I am grateful to my family for
helping me become what I should never have been. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-24006553341710484192013-12-17T18:31:00.000-05:002013-12-18T09:58:22.902-05:00Happy HolidaysI am pretty sure the Christmas card gods have been trying to warn me against putting my greetings out into the world this year. However never being one to heed advice from people that I haven't actually met, I have chosen to send my salutations anyway.<br />
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What happened to the LeBlanc's this year? Well, not a whole heck of a lot. But, for fun I'll recap. First and foremost on the list is that after months of searching and lots of arguments we have finally found a Mexican restaurant that we will all tolerate here in North Carolina. This was no small task and brought about a semblance of peace sometime around mid summer. I will now move on into our standard individual accomplishments.<br />
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Marty has enjoyed earning lots and lots of frequent flyer miles this year and has enjoyed visiting his second family in Tampa, FL. In case you are wondering, Rosita and the girls are doing fine. Okay there is no second family, but that is where he works most of the time due to a small mishap regarding our current relocation with his company.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNH0Zv-MiWDaHNI0iV34ak9VJV9bDTmXdWgZwzmCEGf4KqmUzO-RzM6u7CG8urKHfxIYtUClnNUxInHWUkii3sGi7V2tbOZ2Cc07aHTeN5Ii_bHhoWHz7mhhKYxCBQjFGiPe-Co5WlSASc/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNH0Zv-MiWDaHNI0iV34ak9VJV9bDTmXdWgZwzmCEGf4KqmUzO-RzM6u7CG8urKHfxIYtUClnNUxInHWUkii3sGi7V2tbOZ2Cc07aHTeN5Ii_bHhoWHz7mhhKYxCBQjFGiPe-Co5WlSASc/s320/020.JPG" width="320" /></a>I have spent the last year sampling many wines from around the world. You'd be surprised at some of the fine wines that now come from those tiny islands off the coast of Indonesia. When I am not preoccupied with my new standing as a wine connoisseur, I find time to continue homeschooling Chandler and Kendall. This has brought us all endless pleasure and relaxation. Well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but the boys are both adequately educated for their current grade levels, at least according to the standardized tests that the state of North Carolina requires. As you can tell, I am quite busy, but when a dull moment presents itself, I usually turn to treating my 15 year old cat with homeopathic drugs that our new vet keeps doling out in excesively large quantities.<br />
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Chandler has managed to turn 14 this year. That pretty has much taken all of his energy and focus, so unfortunately, he's unable to accomplish much else. When he finds himself with a little extra boost, he will usually attempt to speak a complete sentence and then head off to manage his Minecraft server. Kids today are just under so much stress.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnsgZUIGjpWlfdMnawDPXZDbU60xqwPFUd4tv8Hm5vZhyphenhyphenJxFur6YnFz8yQt8vUL4lhPqP2erGtziZ3_uT5KgbAzVaJnXqSux8draMJ3iPOb9NwRblIF9eP6wzABFasFwJ5gXiuIy7qick/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnsgZUIGjpWlfdMnawDPXZDbU60xqwPFUd4tv8Hm5vZhyphenhyphenJxFur6YnFz8yQt8vUL4lhPqP2erGtziZ3_uT5KgbAzVaJnXqSux8draMJ3iPOb9NwRblIF9eP6wzABFasFwJ5gXiuIy7qick/s200/photo.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indian ugly pot</td></tr>
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Kendall has had the busiest year of all the LeBlanc's. When not participating in his cultural art class where he creates amazing master pieces like his Indian ugly pot, he spends his time jumping on our newish trampoline. I don't know how he does it, but children under 10 have so much energy. If only we could all keep up with him, there would be no end to what we could accomplish.<br />
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Well, that is 2013 for the LeBlanc's. I am not sure if this will be my last Christmas letter. But, rest assured that as long as exciting things continue to happen for us that I will keep on recapping them for my expectant audience. <br />
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Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,<br />
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The LeBlanc's<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-18657432435015560842013-05-10T11:11:00.002-04:002013-05-10T11:11:33.043-04:00What I am Really Thinking Most of the TimeI have been challenged by a person dear to me to save my readers from yet another deep post with a touch of humor. I apparently have been catering to what I think my 3 readers, because let's be honest the other 11 stopped coming by years ago, would like to hear from me. Not that my thoughts aren't real or genuine, but honestly if I was that deep all the time I would probably have commited suicide years ago. More like attempted suicide, everyone knows that women only attempt in the hopes of getting a little attention from those in their life that are clearly neglecting them. <br />
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I'm going to let everyone lucky enough to stumble onto this page into the true streaming of my brain. I'm not really worried about offending anyone, since basically this blog is a black whole used mostly by Europeans looking for ways to improve their abilitly to read English. <br />
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At this very moment, I am thinking that most people are idiots. Really, I feel this way most of the time. I also do not consider myself one of these idiots. I am actually quite brilliant. Yes, I am brilliant and full of wisdom and logic and all other things that make one superior. Unless you count my spelling and grammar skills, but I mean even Superman had kryptonite. So, why then am I afraid to put my brilliance out into the world and help a universe that is being run by people whose IQ probably is smaller than my shoe size, which happens to be a 7-71/2 depending on the style and brand?<br />
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Seriously, what the hell is keeping me in my little bubble? Hmm? . . . You know it really is a great bubble. One with soothing colors and just the right amount of serendipity combined with dramatic touches that only a true visionary could have created. The stress level here is fairly low, especially after my 3:30 cocktail has kicked in. If I were being honest which I always am, just another perk of being here in my perfectly decorated cocoon, is that I like being alone with my brilliance. I don't want to have to fight to convince all the idiots that my superior thought process is the best way for perfect success. I mean let's face it, idiots don't know they are idiots and they wouldn't listen to me anyway. Then I would be forced to start a coup d'etat and well, that would just be exhausting and a waste of my much higher intellect.<br />
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I don't have a clever well placed conclusion for any of this. After all this is only a blip into the streaming of my brain, which is now onto a completely different course that involves a possible sensitivity to caffeine.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-76662716160934439462013-04-15T18:37:00.000-04:002013-04-15T18:37:19.161-04:00The Price of BoxesI find myself at war with modern day existence. I have repeatedly over the years jumped out of the boxes that life has lined up, only to find a maze of new ones laid out before me. Each has had a title like 'Achievement' or 'Happiness''. A few have even had the tempting label of 'Fun' boldly written on them. I mean who wouldn't want to try out a box that basically guarantees a good time. But, before entering each box there is a price to pay. While the price varies due to inflation and supply and demand, the accepted form is always the same, time and sanity.<div>
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Early on in my life, I didn't mind parting with these currencies. After all, I had such a plethora of both that I couldn't imagine a scenario when I would be without either. I willingly plodded through the maze of modern life with both the optimism and ideology of youth. I believed there would always be choices that would lead me to my own personal greatness. The demanded price always seemed reasonable for the promise of a future of my choosing. The problem is that neither time or sanity is something that can be replaced once gone. I'm sure there are a few that would like to argue with me about the sanity piece. But, you will most likely lose because, as everyone knows, insane people are never wrong. I have spent my adult years slowly bleeding the two things most needed to exist or at the very least to select the next option in this twisted board game that is life. </div>
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As I find myself at the half way point of my human existence, I am comforted by the thought that I still have some time left in which to continue this journey. However, I no longer have nearly a fraction of the sanity required to execute the rest of my time here. I now find myself hoarding the little bit I have left, saving it only for the moments of the upmost importance. This has created a bit of a quandary for me because as I have so clearly explained I cannot move forward without first paying the toll. So, here I sit in my latest box, entitled 'Solitary Confinement', gazing out at all the driven souls as they leap from one chronological cube to the next without hesitation. I could join them and there are moments when I almost do, but something always pulls me back. Usually, it's a thought. One that urges,"Wait! You may need me one day." And, I am reminded again that my thoughts are my greatest resource as I carefully plot a way to move off the path toward the expansive openess that lies outside all the boxes. At the moment, it appears that I am stalled as the rest of the world goes by. But, in reality I am waiting for the time when I find the one truly brilliant conscious stream that allows me to escape the rigidness that is life and run into the quiet vastness that is beyond the path formed by others' wasted time and sanity.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-14505890731810425042013-04-08T17:43:00.003-04:002013-04-08T17:43:39.358-04:00Thoughts on a Spring AfternoonWell, my blog hasn't been used in some time. Upon reading my last post, I am pretty sure I know why. The date was July 11, 2012. On July 12 of that same year the bottom fell out of my well planned life. I will spare you the gory details. This isn't due to my innate kindness, but to the fact that all of my 14 followers are more than aware of what transpired. Still curious?? Feel free to leave a comment and I will get back to you. Now, moving on to the present. Wait, before I get going I need to place a disclaimer. I have had a rather large glass of my favorite white wine and cannot be responsible for any typos or possible confusing statements. <br />
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Okay, time to write something of merit. The entire reason I have decided to come back to the land of blogging is that I have plenty to express and I have one too many 'friends' on Facebook and not nearly enough in real life. As I sit here typing, I find myself 7 months into a new life in North Carolina. "New" is a strong word and come to think of it so is "life", but this is all the English Language currently has available to express my current situation. Unless, I want to add the word "hell". But, that is not the point of this post. No, the point is to discuss that at nearly 39 years of age I have decided to consider letting the second half of my life be dictated by who I am and not by what I believe is acceptable. Let me elaborate. I have spent the better part of the last four decades functioning on a level that involved an extreme amount of control. I have carefully controlled my choices, husband, children, decor, 3 cats and on occasion the weather. But, there is nothing I have controlled more than myself. I must admit that in the right company and at the right moment this control has slipped. Usually, it was followed by a reprimand that involved someone pointing out how I could have possibly gotten myself or others beaten to a pulp. But, I digress. I'm not sure if what I am experiencing is a mid life crisis, but I do feel that there is a crisis at hand. I have two choices to make: I can continue on my carefully laid path that involves sanity and a smaller therapy bill for my children or I can embrace the person that allows me the moments that bring a deep breath of air that can only be described as life giving, <br />
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I'm pretty sure that I won't make my decision today, due to the fact that I must go prepare a carefully planned dinner. But, I just wanted to make it known that I am quite aware that I am half way through the life I have been granted, yet have not fully lived in a manner expressing the person that I may have been created to be. <br />
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Let me just add that what I am considering in no way involves any intentional harm being inflicted on any living creature in my life. I just want permission to let the type 'A' part of myself go and release the creative free spirit that has only on occasion been witnessed to take over.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-37033907204608530112012-07-11T14:03:00.000-04:002012-07-12T13:40:28.281-04:00Summer Hours<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWG8q_nAyp6ZPOziOdr5sOhomAOXbIikGOmqzVI8bMQbaSVPInQJs6BWetyz-AA_hMlIbL5AfwIEAKmUEPp6KnMoSy9yFiJWUL3vywbakrZMkAFLChSovrVhJJ83C4cqDbuEaq7NvWFlab/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWG8q_nAyp6ZPOziOdr5sOhomAOXbIikGOmqzVI8bMQbaSVPInQJs6BWetyz-AA_hMlIbL5AfwIEAKmUEPp6KnMoSy9yFiJWUL3vywbakrZMkAFLChSovrVhJJ83C4cqDbuEaq7NvWFlab/s320/009.JPG" width="320" /></a>I have decided to keep "Summer Hours" this July and August. It seemed like a really great idea after such a long school year. I fantasized about lying around my house in some type of tropical robe like thing, while sipping Mai Tais. Okay, I have no idea what a Mai Tai is, but you get my point. Lots of rest and wasted time. However, a week and a half into my new schedule, I have discovered that not only do I lack said tropical robe in my closet, but I don't handle wasted time well. I have no problem wasting food, water and, according to my husband, electricity. It only made sense that time would have no problem fitting on to this list. Unfortunately, this is not so. Why does it bother me so much to do nothing? Well, in order to keep my carefully carved out time from wasting, I have been giving it some thought.<br />
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Time is something that can never be got back. Food involves a trip to the store, water a turn of a knob. And electricity, well for the next 50 years or so, is in abundant supply. But, time is elusive; it is something that is quietly fading away with each second on the clock. I recently read this anonymous quote, "Inside every older person is a younger one wondering what the hell happened". I'm pretty sure wasted time played a role in this.<br />
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My face is beginning to show the soft lines of a worn road map and gravity is no longer my friend. I wouldn't say my affairs should be got in order just yet, but I would be wise to maybe use the free map for some structured guidance for the time I do have left. Okay, I admit if all goes well I still have half a lifetime to live, but considering how fast the first bit went, it might be in my best interest to plan a little more wisely this time. A plan that has realistic goals that don't involve Italian nobleman sweeping me off to their villa after falling in love with the sight of me in a Roman cafe. I have no idea what these goals should look like, but maybe I could use my new summer hours to figure them out. I'll keep you posted.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-86883071307145560422012-02-19T16:35:00.000-05:002012-02-19T16:38:34.732-05:00Confession of a MotherI have hit a wall. In fact, I have hit several. Being of a stubborn nature, it takes more than one thud to stop me. But now after repeated run ins with something hard and perpendicular, I have decided to stop. Not because rational thought and reasoning has been restored, but because I am just too tired and in too much pain to pick myself up again and continue. So, I am quietly retreating. I believe that I might have a slight limp as I walk off. At the very least, there is a some bruising to the cerebral cortex. I'm not sure exactly where my cerebral cortex is, but I do know that it is bruised, along with my spirit. <br />
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The older my children and I get the more I see just how not super human I am. In fact, there is some evidence that I may be subhuman in most areas. As of this writing, I am a humbled person. I look at a lifetime of progression and see that most of that progression was spent on a treadmill. I have the appearance of one that has moved forward, without actually having accomplished much of anything. To truly know oneself you have to look to the outside and see how 'you' have affected the lives of those around you. I see my children and although they each still have two arms and legs and have yet to have a cavity between them, I'm afraid I have let them both down. And much to my dismay, that it was through my own selfishness that this has been accomplished.<br />
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I'm not sure if any other mother has ever felt this way. I suppose that most would say they have. I can only say that for this mother I find it a lonely and fearful place to exist. Being a solution based person, I have no doubt that once the bruising has faded a bit, I will have a 'new' plan of action. Unfortunately, my ability to trust my own judgement will take much longer to heal. <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-42327846821576407522012-02-07T20:33:00.000-05:002012-02-07T20:33:09.464-05:00The Importance of PurposeIt seems that most blogs have a purpose and usually one that involves advice or inspiration. After very little thought and contemplation, I have come to the conclusion that mine may not fulfill this requirement. Though this explains the somewhat low numbers in the reader department, it doesn't actually 'inspire' me to find a purpose. I'm afraid that if I get the idea that I have something to advise the rest of the world on that it may go to my head, and I decided years ago that I didn't want my ego to become any larger. Not that it's all that large mind you, but I'm just not comfortable thinking too well of myself. A little humility has served me, if not well, faithfully these last 37 years. Of course with that being said, I do find myself wanting to share my latest revelation. Please don't mistake what I am about to say for advice, it is simply my latest ponderings.<br />
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A few years back, I decided that just because I may have 'gifts' or 'talents' that I didn't need to use them to conquer, change or modify the world. I would be just as content quietly using them in my day to day life that involved a husband, two sons & three cats. Recently, I have taken the time to rethink this philosophy and find that I may have been mistaken. I think that a life without goals or a greater purpose can become rather dreary and sad. I now wonder if by denying myself the chance to accomplish something greater than pantry organization (no matter how ingenious), I may have tempered or dare I say even destroyed my enthusiasm for life. I often feel as if I am passed my 'use by' date. I'm not quite curdled, but there is a strange odor coming from the container. Is it right or normal to feel this way at such a 'young' age? Perhaps, if I had left some room for uncharted exploration instead of settling in for a quiet life, I may still have been able to compliment a bowl of cereal instead of being reserved for bake goods. This now leads me to my final thought which is that life, like a successful blog, must have vision and purpose to flourish and perhaps it's time that mine did.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-61513020068986324442012-01-25T14:45:00.002-05:002012-01-25T14:45:24.680-05:00The Tenth ThoughtI was going to write a lovely piece on letting go, spreading wings and other such nonsense. So, I prepared a hot cup of tea turned on my fake sun light and opened up my laptop. And, that is pretty much where my brilliance ended. My mind has been in rare form these last few months, cruising along at speeds that are not only distracting but quite dangerous. No sooner do I have a thought then 10 more go racing by. The first 9, which most likely are perfectly rational rabbit trails from my original thought, are indiscernible. The 10th is usually the one that gets processed. Allow me to illustrate. <br />
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Original Thought: "I need a blog topic. Hmm, how about something on letting go and how that helps us become better people?"<br />
1. "Well, it can't just be on letting go, it needs to also address the dangers of holding on."<br />
2. "Wow, that sounds like a lot of work."<br />
3. "Work...I really need to work on that desk that needs painting"<br />
4. "Mustn't forget to sand it first."<br />
5. "Well, that will be messy."<br />
6. "Green, how do I feel about the color green?"<br />
7. "What color are frogs anyway? Is pond a color?"<br />
8. "Pond water looks a lot like my tea."<br />
9. "I like tea cups, not the flowery ones mind you."<br />
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Now comes my 10th thought, the one that is actually put to use. "I need to sit down and have a cup of tea." <br />
Hence, no blog or at least not a brilliant one. <br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-22939582695643006652011-12-28T13:56:00.002-05:002011-12-28T14:20:06.086-05:00The Comfort of ScarvesWriting, for me, is a way to be honest with myself. I have so many thoughts swirling around day to day that I often can't distinguish the legitimate ones from the utter nonsense. I find when the thoughts are just too many and things are a bit over crowded that all I have to do is write. Somehow, the process of putting thoughts to paper, figuratively speaking, brings truth to the forefront and all the rest seem to fade away. At least for a moment. So, today I find myself full of nonsense and in search of a little truth. Let's see what happens.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfHQ-quBBPTP-bwnoE_HkADNVVfKgHbX7nCMeBCH7HM5t8xhfTNW6SKR3JbtRMvVfIxGkZXqjMZv-GhY1hjZPqUsMNDNhpPbZghwFGeA2G3iKdyfZ6P0HUdAvcK1GsQjY5B7WikewoyNgX/s1600/051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfHQ-quBBPTP-bwnoE_HkADNVVfKgHbX7nCMeBCH7HM5t8xhfTNW6SKR3JbtRMvVfIxGkZXqjMZv-GhY1hjZPqUsMNDNhpPbZghwFGeA2G3iKdyfZ6P0HUdAvcK1GsQjY5B7WikewoyNgX/s320/051.JPG" width="320" /></a>Once again my life is requiring some readjusting. In theory this sounds exciting and there are moments when I have ideas that seem borderline genius, however it is in fact exhausting and not much fun at all. The reason being that I have run out of new options and find myself forced to pull from previous forms of existence. There is a part of me that wants to take comfort in the familiar and embrace the past, much like a favorite old sweater. But there is another part that questions the sanity of this. Are we not supposed to be moving forward? How many times have I heard, 'you can never go back'? Yet, moving forward seems impossible, at least in this place I now find myself. The new sweaters available don't seem all that well made and I can't stand the current trend of long in the front and short in the back. I require symmetry. So, I move towards digging out my old sweater. Only when I finally locate it, there is a hole in the arm and it appears quite misshapen. What's a person to do? Perhaps a nice warm scarf that can double as a blanket. I am aware that this seems a bit like moving forward, yet it comes with a touch of comfort from the past, which in fact may be my answer. This is where I find myself today, if I were to be honest. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-65383830186938949682011-12-21T18:22:00.000-05:002011-12-21T18:22:30.601-05:00Almost Optimistic<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
My world as of late has been comprised mostly of failures, so you can imagine my delight today when I quite unexpectedly had a success. Now, this success was not life changing or ground breaking, but nevertheless it was a success. I'm quite aware that I have used the word success four times since beginning this post, but I just don't want anyone to forget that I, in fact, had a success. Today, I successfully made gluten free sugar cookies that look and taste nearly identical to my regular sugar cookies. I was so sure they would be a failure that I made an extra batch of the regular so my family would at least have something to decorate. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7kHkZffsTobAzwE2h7i1RBBz4pVczv9Ok_t9NVOYBHlYbQTUpenUaBBXnvEp6klivhKK_lCQmBf2PUcPNOSQXLX9lVWAM4nZDeuCN8Uu4BSULLk5fW6u-HALnZEycHzmrnvk3upJJoaO/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7kHkZffsTobAzwE2h7i1RBBz4pVczv9Ok_t9NVOYBHlYbQTUpenUaBBXnvEp6klivhKK_lCQmBf2PUcPNOSQXLX9lVWAM4nZDeuCN8Uu4BSULLk5fW6u-HALnZEycHzmrnvk3upJJoaO/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a>This now brings me to my point. Why do I anticipate failure? Well, in this instance probably because of my recent record in the areas of family, friends, decorating, pet care taking, education, cooking, & all around living. But lets not dwell on that. Let's instead focus on why even in my 'better' seasons I worry about not being up to par. I could be simplistic about it all and say it's in my nature, that I am a half empty kind of person. But, really I'm almost an optimist. Contrary to what some of you may be thinking, being an 'almost optimist' does not make me a pessimist. </div>
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Almost optimists like to look at the bright side of things and are even quite cheerful at times, but we have a bit more reality embedded within us than your average optimist. You see, we know that life won't always work out and that things both good and bad happen in seasons. We have a built in graph that helps us see the chance of something failing based on previously stored data. We also realize that success and failure are probabilities, not guaranteed outcomes. When our internal data shows that we are in a 'bad' season, we, like any other optimist, move forward with plans and ideas. However, we don't ignore the probability of failure and plan accordingly. I dare any psychologist to counter this logic that is based in rational thought, not negative energy. So the next time you plan for failure, ask yourself if you are being a pessimist or an almost optimist. If your answer is the latter, then I say all is well and carry on. You can always use the extra dough in the refrigerator to make cookies for your gluten tolerant friends and non tolerant enemies.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-39720930937022537502011-12-12T17:43:00.002-05:002011-12-12T19:09:44.461-05:00Checklist<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp37emCqCxig9V8T1nwZ2ugnsSz9RmEBBxGJm79I8lWoM4LT6CqRiX4Ww7-O6-biO83VeO0I0DN343IbjZxMMDE3HOdqmz20YUJKmXleRvXKbvJIz_tadoVjH119_9c8DJAC_8uqK65HPq/s1600/cranford.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp37emCqCxig9V8T1nwZ2ugnsSz9RmEBBxGJm79I8lWoM4LT6CqRiX4Ww7-O6-biO83VeO0I0DN343IbjZxMMDE3HOdqmz20YUJKmXleRvXKbvJIz_tadoVjH119_9c8DJAC_8uqK65HPq/s1600/cranford.bmp" /></a>It has often been remarked that I belong in a different era. I'm not sure how much of this is just my innate personality and how much is a result of a lifetime study of British period books/movies. Upon watching yet another Masterpiece Classic, I discovered a new sliver of information to live by. One must conduct oneself in a manner that is, if not pleasing at the very least, not offensive to others. So often I am guilty, as way too many of us are, of mistaking frankness with blurting out whatever comes to mind. One can be frank and honest without saying every thought. I know for myself that much of what I say needs to be checked. Therefore, I have devised a list of questions to run randomly through my head during conversation. If what I am about to say meets with an affirmative, then I should close the mouth that seems to always want to be open. Feel free to adopt my list of questions, goodness knows we could all use with an occasional check. And remember, being real doesn't give you the right to offend just so you can have a reputation for being yourself. After all, just because you are yourself doesn't mean you are well liked.</div>
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1. Is what I am about to say for my own amusement?</div>
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2. Am I about to say something so that I will seem amusing?</div>
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3. Am I trying to fill dead air?</div>
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4. Am I trying to take over the conversation, because clearly I am more amusing then the other person?</div>
5. Is what I am about to say better left for a diary or Internet journal?<br />
6. Do I want to end this conversation? (The affirmative answer to this question requires a different response to the one stated above, instead continue talking while ignoring questions 1-5 and chances are they will find a way to escape the conversation, hopefully never to return)<br />
7. Do I want to have another conversation with this person? <br />
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No need to thank me for this bit of wisdom and advice, but feel free to let me know how effective it was in helping you attain a bit of the etiquette so needed in our modern society.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-49355873193144849982011-12-01T16:44:00.001-05:002011-12-06T18:30:23.600-05:00Hidden Insight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It seems that I have been causing myself quite a bit of trouble lately. I'm pretty sure that becoming mute would put an end to most of it. But, I have yet to come up with a rational pain free way of achieving this. So, I am doing the only other thing that comes to mind, hiding. <br />
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I realise that this sounds like an unhealthy thing to do, but I beg to differ. There have been many brave people throughout history that have hidden and come out heroes or at the very least alive. Okay, so perhaps 'hiding' is a strong word. I am just one little decision at a time choosing to be alone. The first time, I said 'no' it felt strange, even wrong. But, the feelings of rest and peace that came over me as I stayed in my Utopian home (really, check out my pictures on 'More Than Words) made it not only worth it, but my new go to phrase. "Tansy, do you want to go to dinner and a movie?" "No." "Tansy, do you want to walk around downtown, stare at strangers and make small talk?" "No." "What about helping your 'friends' only to have them treat you like an indentured servant that is rebelling?" "No." Each time I say no, it's like a gift I'm giving myself.<br />
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For years, I have worked on improving myself so that I could be a better friend/person. You see to me friend and person were one and the same. I thought to be a person that I must also be a friend and a good one at that. Problem is that most people don't quite see things this way, to them being a person is good enough. Why go through the trouble of being a 'friend', when you can just take advantage of those schmucks that are giving out friendship and its benefits for free? The only problem with this is that the 'friends' that are having the life sucked out of them, get worn down pretty quick and start to short circuit. They no longer have anything to offer, so the 'persons' simply chew them out for being flawed and worthless hoping this will help their 'friends' get back to their 'A' game. Shockingly, this actually works. However, on occasion the 'friend' gets smart and realises that they have a choice. A choice to say 'no', not today. Today, I choose self respect and a nice cozy hiding spot. Today, I breathe for myself and maybe a cat or two.<br />
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In hiding comes healing, a chance to gain perspective and insight. Too often we are told that being alone is wrong and even unstable. But I think pushing on endlessly trying to please others in a headless bird state is wrong and unstable. I mean headless birds do not make good decisions. But, people that sit quietly sipping wine while watching <u>Cranford</u>, now those are some insightful people. I will emerge one day, but not until I have watched a few more BBC miniseries while enjoying my own thoughts and ideas. Ideas that will make me a stronger person, but hopefully not a better 'friend'.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-32240415410976294912011-11-23T20:34:00.001-05:002011-11-23T21:21:04.678-05:00I Reserve the Right to Change My MindI wouldn't be me, if I didn't on occasion change my mind. That being said, my cat Lily is still with us. There were several sappy reasons why I couldn't let her go, but it was actually because of one quite rational reason that she managed to get a 'stay of execution'. <br />
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Here I was being encouraged by my vet to put down a loyal friend because her 'non' terminal disease was difficult to manage. Based on the information given to me, it did indeed seem daunting and bit painful for both of us. So, I decided with a heavy heart that ending her life was for the best. However after a few days of some non Paxil worrying and pouting, I decided to conduct some research into her condition. After all these years, I at least owed her that. What I discovered (from which you will be spared the details) was that just like in every other area of my life, I don't have to go the traditional path. Especially, when it offered little to no hope. Passionate once again and I must say a little indignant over some of the facts, I have begun with the help of a slightly reluctant yet forward thinking young vet a path that already has shown some amazing results. Lily will not only recover from this illness, but she will no doubt go on to live out her full existence. </div>
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I am quite aware that I will have to let her go one day, but for now I'm grateful for the extra time that we almost didn't have.<br />
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Oh and I realize that my last two posts have been about a cat. I do apologize that Lily isn't a dog and therefore more universally accepted but, for all her loyalty I felt she deserved at least a couple posts written in her honor. </div>
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Here are three long ago and sappy reasons:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xKdHCnSSgUqLSJXqe5fxMeXu8i9TANJYP3bHVRMD-2Ygri73S7tirEpeJLZ6QBBUjY93EHF8-TUy8K9Q4nglpto54GBxRJcFGG3NKAIKmhRuifmMjlxpRwkPIoeAlnE5SLTIYXYgT4J0/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xKdHCnSSgUqLSJXqe5fxMeXu8i9TANJYP3bHVRMD-2Ygri73S7tirEpeJLZ6QBBUjY93EHF8-TUy8K9Q4nglpto54GBxRJcFGG3NKAIKmhRuifmMjlxpRwkPIoeAlnE5SLTIYXYgT4J0/s320/016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9161426681145752027.post-43784218271816422572011-11-20T19:56:00.001-05:002011-11-20T20:18:29.572-05:00Goodbye LilyMost of the time, I can find humor even in life's most difficult moments. Unfortunately, this is not one of those times for me. Tomorrow I have to put down my dear cat and companion of 14 years. Now, I realize that I have just lost 14 of my 15 readers, but she truly was a special friend. From the moment, I let this little feral stray into my house, she has worked diligently to warm her way into my heart. She hasn't ever been 'normal' and most people never knew I even had her, what with her skittish reclusive behavior. I never really thought cats could develop traits from their owners, but then she has always been exceptional. Despite what many would consider a flawed personality, she was loved by my entire family and in return was fiercely loyal and full of an almost human like love. It is with a heavy and sad heart that I say goodbye. But, in the words of my 7 year old, "Lily is going to heaven, which is the best place on earth."<br />
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Acquaintance: "Wow, your house is amazing! How do you keep things so clean and neat while having kids and homeschooling?" <br />
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Me: "Well, that's simple; I'm crazy." <br />
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Acquaintance: "Oh...", with a perplexed almost scared expression. <br />
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Me: "Ha ha ha .... no I'm kidding, I'm not crazy. I just never sit down or rest all day; it's what I do.... Especially after a stressful day, I mean noting calms me down faster than vacuuming." <br />
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Acquaintance: "So, you never do anything for yourself?" <br />
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Me: "No, this is what I do for myself... I can't rest or be happy if things aren't in order... I mean it's just the way I am; my whole family is this way and only some of us are truly insane." <br />
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Acquaintance: ".... okay?....." <br />
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I would continue, but it I don't think I could survive the pain of the documentation. <br />
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I've heard it said that life is full of awkward moments. This is quite a strong statement, what with the implication of the word 'full'. If a jar is full of candy, then one assumes that all there is in the jar is candy and let's be honest, a lot of it. So, I can only jump to the conclusion that life = awkward. So why then, is it that I so often feel the need to make the awkwardness go away? And, where do I think it's going to go since the jar of life is already full of other awkward moments? I have now written myself into an awkward corner, which the only way out of is to ramble on some more in a nonsensical pattern. Well, today I say 'no'. Today, I choose to breathe in the awkwardness of my post, and ask that you please accept this as my gift to you. Use it as a chance to, like me, embrace the awkwardness that is life. <br />
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* I have copy and pasted a section of an old post that I feel on occasion needs to be restated:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the way, as a side note I just want to add that I take no responsibility for my run on sentences, typos and grammatical errors. According to Jane Austen this is just part of my make up due to my preselected gender.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"...the usual style of letter writing among women is faultless, except in three particulars...A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to stops, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar."</span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Northanger Abby</span></u><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0