Slow Boat of Happiness

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It's not that I'm unhappy, but I'm not feeling a lot of love and joy right now.  The back is feeling better, but I'm still not doing yoga or moving 100% and that is a downer.  I was talking to a friend a couple of weeks ago and she said something that had me responding, "Well, I'd like a little of that love and joy to come my way."  She said, "You have love and joy."  I said, "I know, but I'm just not feeling it."  I know it's there, but I'm just not finding or realizing what that is.  It's like that elusive craving that you know is there and it's very specific, but for the life of you you just aren't placing it. 

I jokingly gave her the following analogy: It's like the boat of happiness is a slow moving boat (tugboat slow) and everyone but me is on board.  It's pulling its horn with the long, "Maaaaangh, Maaaaaaangh" as I'm on the dock with my Quasimoto back, draggin my one leg behind me, flailing my arms as I move towards the boat, yelling, "Waaait!  Waaait!"  The boat is moving so slow that--if I were able bodied--I could leap onto the deck, like they do in the movies.  I'm not fully functional, so there will be no jumping for me.  I said this as a joke, but I know there are times when we all feel as if we just missed something or are watching life go by and it's difficult to piece together the whys and the what fors of it all.

Friends, I wrote this on November 17th--I'm fine.  I just thought the analogy was worth sharing.  Although there were a few days fairly recently where every story I could of told ended with, "and then I cried," I'm alright. Maybe I'll share that another time (I think those are funny, too)!

Here's hoping that you make the leap onto your boat of happiness and have a wonderful weekend! 

P.S., so what if you fall, it'll make a great story afterwards and at least you tried, right?

Reverb 2011

http://besottment.com/besottment/reverb11.html

 

Hope Wallace Karney is doing a Reverb of her own this year.  She will be providing journal prompts every day the month of December.  If you would like to join her or just see what she's up to you can find her at http://www.besottment.com/ or click the reverb button above.  She does really cute journals and lettering, so take a peek!  Her first prompt is worth a roll around the noggin, even if you don't plan on journaling about it.  This year some other people are taking on their own Reverb projects because Gwen Bell, the woman who started Reverb, is not doing it but has provided instructions on how to start your own.  This is a great way to get the creative juices flowing or find some inspiration! 

Have fun!

Connections and Your Tribe



We are a culture fascinated by celebrity and very voyeuristic in some of our behaviours.  We love a good story--about someone else.  We will spend hours listening to gossip about people we may or may not know about, because we crave that kind of connection.  We are pack animals and we need our pack or our tribe.  We need the interconnected feeling that stories provide us and we need it for our very being, if not our well-being. 

I love other people's stories because it does provide a chance to see another side of others, better understand their perspectives and priorities and, sometimes, hearing these stories brings you closer and/or makes you feel more connected.  It also makes me realize how much I have and how rich my life is.  When people open their lives, hearts and stories to you it is a gift.  For whatever reason, these people trust you (although, sometimes some may just need someone, anyone--but that's a different story).  Many of us are losing our connection with the people around us and not realizing it--sometimes because we are too busy checking our emails, texts and Facebook which allows us to pretend we are connected.  Being up on someone's business isn't necessarily being connected. 

I have my family who entertain me to no end, although they can aggravate just as well!  At the core of it, I'm very lucky to have made such a good choice in my spouse.  While I do spend a lot of time without Chief--he works so very much--he always has time to connect with us.  He spends his days dealing with life and death issues, office politics and he's the go-to man when drama hits--he has an even-keeled nature and is a good listener even when others are frantic, emotional and sometimes irrational.  He can cut to the chase without being too harsh, but he'll also give you a rash when you least expect it.  Despite doing this all day long with others, for long days and days on end, he still manages to come home and talk and interact with his family.  It really is a true gift that few of us choose to exercise.  (Don't start thinking he's a saint, because he's just as connected to his iphone as the next guy but when when we talk he looks us in the eye, listens and responds.)  Actual, focused interaction makes you feel loved, alive and part of something bigger than yourself.  I am a lucky and blessed woman.

This is my immediate tribe but my tribe consists of so many others.  Who are part of your tribe and how do they bless and enrich you?  What stories do you share with others and why?

Comfort

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It's funny when I hear other people talk about how hard it is with little children--babies and toddlers--because I found those the easier years for so many reasons.  One of the most selfish reasons is that problems were easier to solve.  Giving hugs, swaddling, rocking, feeding, comforting--you name it, it was easier for me.  I could deal with the constant sleep interruptions, unfinished meals and hauling gear everywhere I had to go.  Easy Peasy, Lemon Squeezey.  Those years made me feel like a rock star compared to some of the haggling and negotiating that goes on these days.  I shouldn't speak so soon, because right now everyone is charming and getting along--life is rolling along.  But, I just read a post about being kind to yourself when things aren't going your way and how the blogger isn't going to ignore the crankiness in her life or try to sugar-coat it (she's dealing with molasses-slow construction issues, which I kind of feel like--"isn't that always the case?"  Not that I'm diminishing her issues, those are harsh realities.  I'm just very jaded about construction and contractors because of our very painful home addition a couple of years back.).  This blogger mentioned how someone sent her a "magic potion."  The arrival of this potion and the kind gesture of her friend made her reframe her thinking.  She provided a link to the magic potion--it was some sort of "comfort" essential oil blend.  The description states how we all want comfort, especially these days, but we don't know how to ask for it or get it.  Interesting.  The rusty gears in my mind started to squawk and it made me realize that comfort was one of the keys to my wistfulness. 

The baby years of my motherhood were filled with comfort and coziness, of the kind that only babies and very small children can provide because it exists in a bubble.  The comfort and coziness are the physical closeness, the nonverbal communication and that mother-child bond that runs so deep you don't realize, until you really stop to think about it.  Not that these things don't continue into adulthood, but when your children are babies and toddlers these attributes are the core of your relationship--their "person" is still developing and has a long way to go (plus, many of the needs are physical which are usually easily manageable), but the few existing and emerging characteristics are so prominent.  When I was pregnant with Big Monkey people kept telling me that babies are just blobs who don't do anything, but they are so much more fun when they get older.  Really?  I found that to be false--healthy babies are alert and engaging, just on a much different level.  I wonder if these people ever gazed into the eyes of their newborns or watched their newborns see new things as they developed better eyesight?  I never thought that I'd be wistful for those years--don't get me wrong, I don't want to return because that ship has sailed.  But, I sometimes think it would be nice to recapture some of that essence.  I never thought I'd enjoy babies and toddlers as much as I did.  My mom always told me and my brother that we weren't good with babies and children (when we were teens).  Guess I bought into way too many of the stories my mom told me, but I managed to block that out during the baby years.  The problem is during recent years my mom's stories have come back to haunt me.  I was able to keep them at bay for a long time and now that I have more time to think I am plagued.  Which returns me to wistful.  I'm longing for those days of comfort and being the rock star mom who could solve problems with a hug and a kiss.  Clearly, it's time to reframe and I suppose I need to find a new "comfort" for this different phase of motherhood and self.  The odd thing is, I don't really remember what comforted me before I had children...

What comforts or has comforted you?

Coffee From a Stranger

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When I pulled up to the window at Starbucks this afternoon, the barista leaned out, looking very apologetic, and began with, "OK, about your coffee..." and all I could think of was "they are out of caramel brulee" and "Wow, he doesn't have to be that sorry about it--he's being so nice!"  Instead, he surprised me with "the car ahead of you paid for your coffee."  What a nice thing for them to do!  I was so surprised that I almost forgot to wave a "thank you" to them.  They were almost gone by the time the barista was done "surprising" me; fortunately, the passenger looked back just as I turned to look at them in the driveway & I waved in time.  I didn't even think to honk my horn in thanks, because I'm not a horn honker anymore--emergencies only (not a big fan of getting shot or yelled at).  At any rate, I've always wanted to buy someone their coffee and now I totally am going to--no more thinking about it!  Thank you, kind couple!  I plan on passing on your kindness.

PS: The cynic in me says, "It beats the hell out of getting the door slammed in your face as you walk in a store behind someone!"  The grateful person in me says that I shouldn't write that previous comment because I am grateful for their kindness and don't want to ruin it with being funny but truthful...Then, there's odd third voice that says, write it because no matter what, this trumps all the times when people have behaved rudely.  Why?  Because I won't stoop to the letting a door go in someone's face, that's just rude, but I will mimic kindness with kindness.  Won't you?

Tales of Thanksgiving

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Here is one of my all-time favorite Thanksgiving tales, which many of you have already heard multiple times:

Our good friends (when they were still together), Alex & Maima, used to visit us every Thanksgiving--for about 9 or so years.  Maima went to culinary school to become a chef and chose not to pursue that career but has a real love of food, preparation and presentation.  She's also pretty highbrow about it, but SSSHHHH!  She is a great chef and we love the food she makes.  They had to come down close to Thanksgiving for business once and so they stayed a little longer to feast with us.  We enjoyed cooking together so much that we declared Thanksgiving "our" holiday and it was a big deal.  Maima would visit armed with a slew of recipes--some for voting on and others were not up for voting, but essentially came with an entire planned meal in hand.  They all were exotic or different in some way.  One year we had a celery root and crab salad, which came at the end of the meal-not the at the beginning.  All good and fine if you eat with restraint and save room (or are "Continental" as one guest declared), but after turkey, stuffing and whatever else is served, there really isn't room in my mind for a salad.  But, I digress.  That isn't the funny part but an aside--if you know me, you know how I feel about salads in general and those who think a lone salad is a meal. 

Acquiring the items we needed for this salad--mind you, we are in the desert looking for crab in November--was epic.  It's not an easy thing to find.  I could understand Maima forgetting that we no longer were in Seattle (where crab is easily procured) and I could understand Chief and Alex's dismay at hunting down the elusive desert crab--but they weren't the ones driving around after work searching for it, I was; I was also a non-contributor to the menu.  I'd be happy with a bowl of old-fashioned bread stuffing and gravy.  It's interesting that I was the most sympathetic to Maima's intrinsic need for culinary uniqueness, despite the fact that at the time my palate did not like unique.  I've evolved, but (again) I digress.

While waiting for Maima to get ready for yet another shopping expedition, Alex, Chief and I were standing in the kitchen kvetching about the salad.  In my defense, we are now on day 4 or so of the hunt and it's nearing the big day.  The men began huffing and joking, "Why isn't K-R-A-B good enough?  Why does it have to be C-R-A-B?"  I responded, "Because it's Maima and she has decided."  If you don't submit suggestions or requests the meal defaults to her--not a fast or written rule, but something I realized along the way and was o.k. with: i.e., not worth the fight. I went on, "You better just let her get it out of her system and have it this year.  If we don't have it this year we'll never hear the end of it and will probably have to do it next year.  A waste of many grocery runs.  Besides--I am the one driving, not you, and I say let her be."

Alex may have flat-out refused to drive her around for the crab--I can't remember exactly.  Fortunately, we found a crab at the 4th store we went to, which wasn't close to the house but oh, well.  Sadly, I had to put the live things in the boiling water and handle it afterwards.  Of course this is after the many trips in search of the at-the-time exotic celery root and other forgotten miscellaneous items.  Our cabinets used to be filled with odd spices, oils and foods that had a one-time purpose in our kitchen.  This was before the Food Network and the stuff she liked to cook was "out there," at least in terms of the local Phoenix grocery stores.  We also had to buy the food as close to the cooking date as possible...at any rate, we succeeded in making the exotic celery root and crab salad; Maima got it out of her system; it was tasty, but not the best salad; it was the most expensive salad I've ever had --over $80 to make; and we've laughed about it ever since. 

So.  Many.  Trips.  To.  The.  Store...I was near tears by the time it was all said and done, but if  I had to do it all over again, I'd drive her to the store to get it out of her system--it's what the situation called for.  Lolling about the grocery store during the Thanksgiving rush is not my idea of fun.  Each trip brought us closer and closer to the dreaded date.  Longer and longer lines.  Less fruitful trips.  More exasperation.  Two very sad crabs eventually coming home with us.  But we finally found the main ingredients, which were also the most difficult, the Tuesday before Thanskgiving which is such a bonus in my book.  Of course that didn't mean we didn't have to go back to the store on Wednesday...that time I didn't drive.

Here's hoping that you did not have to make any last minute grocery runs today (or tomorrow)!

Happy Thanksgiving!  Enjoy!

Lick or Bite?

If you offer a dog an ice cream cone (you hold one under his nose or in front of his face) will he bite if off or lick it?  It was one of those nagging questions that I finally had to settle for myself (years ago).

We had a little bet as to whether or not the dogs would lick the ice cream cone or bite it.  We all guessed differently, with variations of the simple answers.  So, on that same hike (see "Buddy's Pack") we had stopped at McDonalds and bought the dogs an ice cream cone to share.  I know, it sounds crazy & we don't feed them like that, normally.  I held the ice cream cone between the two of them & they took turns licking it.  Buddy first, then Trigger--lick, lick, lick, lick and then...chomp!  Much to Trigger's dismay, Buddy had decided he had enough of the gentle licking and sharing that was going on and he bit the top off the cone.  It then became a free for all. 

I guess we were all correct, on some level.