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May all the evil spirits be scared away from your homes tonight! And for those of you who know what I'm doing today...the phrase "clean as a whistle" has a whole new meaning to me. Maybe what I went through to prep for today has scared away some haunting noises that have been going on deep in my belly. I can only hope!
Happy Halloween!
In case you haven't noticed the new badge on the sidebar (look right), I have signed up to take part of NoBloPoMo only because I'm just sitting around eating bon bons wondering what to do with myself all the time. But here's the cool thing...just like the triathlon world there are always gadgets and gear to make your life so much easier...enter Moblogging (you know Mobile Blogging). I'm sure I'm so behind the times with this but having just signed up for the Marathon of Blogging (where I have to blog everyday for the 30 days of November) every bit of make-it-easier-on-yourself-technology will be utilized in the attempt. Me doing NoBloPoMo is like a couch potato deciding to do the Chicago Marathon without training for it. I hope I don't get carpel tunnel syndrome. I wonder if there is a gadget for that?
You know the amazing thing about living in Michigan, or really any temperate environment are the beautiful Fall days. There is a crispness in the air that exhilerates without biting. And the gentle winds allow the trees to converse their last few thoughts before their long winter slumber.
Well...that...and cows eating pumpkins.
Sometime last year, I think in the fall, I was driving from Kalamazoo to Mattawan to pick Eddie up from his after school activity. With traffic and the mileage it tends to be a somewhat long drive and I usually listen to NPR. The story that I heard that day struck me so much that I immediately wrote down what I recollected of the story in my moleskin that I happened to have in my bag.
While cleaning up this morning I found the partially filled moleskin in the seemingly ever present piles of papers and clutter that find their way into our house. I usually only feel motivated to "clean" clean the house when I am not very happy or completely fed up with my inability to maintain a household to a standard that most of my friends can. Most of the time thinking "What is wrong with me?"
Here is what I had written down that day:
The second story I heard was about a disabled man who went on a dog sled adventure. He described a story relayed to him that went something like this...
Our dishes and pots tell us stories. A man who walked a long winding path to the river to fetch water carried the same two pots everyday. One new and the other old and cracked. On the way home from the water-gathering trek the old pot asked the man to get a new pot to replace him--he was tired and it was obvious that he was making the work more difficult for the man since the water he carried was being leaked all along the path. The man retorted and said that he couldn't give up the pot because it leaked water on that side of the path. In fact the wildflowers that grew on that side of the path were sustained everyday by the water from the broken pot. "You are what enables me to bare this task. To see the wildflowers everyday makes the work worthwhile."
If only we knew how our self-perceived faults and weaknesses were actually appreciated by others and they provide the beauty to our world.
I am probably too well aware of my imperfections and how they can sometimes cause pain to the people I love the most. I hope everyday to find my way through without being distracted and unaware of the feelings of those around me. Today has not been a good day but I hope tomorrow will be better. I wish more than anything, second only for my desire for better awareness of the feelings of others, that my other faults might somehow bring joy in some crazy way to those around me.
I am pulling out the big guns when it comes to the ol' blog here and using an entry from the Mighty Girl's book...Nobody Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 ideas for your blog (#42 Make your Timeline).
Age 0: While laying in a bassinet across town after just having been born my father makes his first meal for himself all on his own. It is a hamburger and is documented on film.
Age 2: Am often found out in the yard with the drying sheets hanging on the line holding onto my "blankie" and sucking my finger.
Age 3: We moved to Watson Road where I will live my painful formative years and learn the meaning of "if you don't do it, I won't be your friend anymore." Most often spoken by Lisa across the road.
Age 4: First time seeing a penis. Lisa's older brother, showed me his while going to the bathroom. Why is this such a vivid memory 32 years later??
I also have sketchy memories of wearing saddle shoes (not necessarily during the viewing).
Age 5: Ahh Kindergarten. I loved the ginormous red pencils that never fit in the pencil sharpener. This was also my first experience with boys teasing me for some reason. My Dad always said they did that because they liked me but it definitely never felt that way. This was the year I recall (correct me if I'm wrong on this one Mom) that my parents got a call from the principle because I punched Greg Walton in the stomach for teasing me. I'm told my statement upon coming home was "I just had to do it!"
Age 6: First Grade. First Kiss on the playground. On the cheek.
Age 9: Fourth Grade. Training bra...Oh my God. Also had a lead part in Mrs. Tousley's Fourth Grade Play (which was a series of skits...mostly poems acted out from Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein). I was a married female bird that spent the entire act complaining to my male "husband" bird about this and that as he read the newspaper. How is that funny? I have no idea but I remembered not being all that scared in front of a crowd once I got started on my monologue.
Age 12: Sixth Grade. Lord help me...the mean girl phase. I somehow survived the groups of girls in our school that shifted alliances more often that I can count in just one day. I was elected Leutenient of the Safety Patrol (backup Captain so to speak) so I must have carried some clout. Yikes.
Age 14: Eighth Grade. West Intermediate School. Locker number 2 (sweet my favorite number--recall Leutenient position mentioned previously). Survived endless teasing by that dork Kevin who was shorter than I was and had WAY more freckles than me. What a dink. Was very into swimming competitively this year and had some of the best personal swim times of my life. My favorite event was the 200 free and the 500 free because everyone else hated swimming those distances. I'll show them!
Age 15: First broken heart.
Age 16: Had a major crush on a drummer in CMU's Percussion Ensemble. He was talented and ended up in a band called The Verve Pipe. He's the one all the way to the right.
Age 17: My first real doubts about organized religion surfaced when the lay minister from Saint Mary's wouldn't answer my questions about Judaism.
Age 19: Was thrown my first surprise birthday party by my roommate, Joan. Best birthday ever!
Age 20: Fell in love for real with the only man for me on the Wild Woosey. I was married for life to Doug on that day.
Age 21: Dibilitating grief followed by a year of counseling to get me back on track.
Age 23: Almost die (no not really...it just felt like it) from a panic attack an hour prior to teaching my first Introductory Biology laboratory section as a Graduate Assistant at Northern Michigan University. That lab section was full of hockey players.
Age 28: Became a mother for the first time.
Age 32: First professional job. Nice.
Age 35: Lost 18.75% of my body and started running, swimming and biking a lot faster. Hmm, interesting how that works.
Age 36: Guiding my baby through some of the hardest times of childhood. Elementary school. Ah, the circle of life!
