No explanation

Ok, so this is a good example of my random tendencies. I found this to be incredibly humorous. Maybe only Kyle will think it's funny, but here's hoping the rest of you will get a kick out of it. Also, a funny from yesterday:

J: "Mommy, what do you have to say?"

Me: "Nothing, really."

J: "But, Mommy, you just said something."

Bad grocery song of the day - March 31

Now, I don't mean to dis all 80's tunes. They have their place and time...say at a throwback party, or...I don't know. Maybe that's the only place and time. But really, what about this makes you think 'grocery shopping'? Does it in any way inspire coupon utilization? Brand comparisons? Trial of new microwave snacks served by be-gloved workers at the end of the cracker isle?? I think not.

Thinking about 40

My in-laws have spent the past several years celebrating with various friends as they cross the '60' border one-by-one. And now, here I am beginning the recognition of the '40' milestone amongst my closest friends and family. I am curious to find that this looming birthday is less of a big deal than I would have predicted. Maybe I never really thought about my life after, say, 35, so I have no expectations to manage. I can remember being a teenager and wondering what career path I might take, what it would feel like to be married, and wondering if I would lose my inner angst by my mid-30's. (Disappointingly, I have not.) Maybe it's because of all the people I know who already older than 40. They don't seem 'old' to me.

I have seen some women struggle with this demographic-altering birthday, filled equally with dread and anxiety. It's surprising to hear of people actually using Botox, or considering cosmetic surgery. I imagine these women to be those who worried about not having a corner office at 30. I am sad for the women who wanted to be married with kids at 25, and are somehow taken aback by how old their children are now, making them feel more like their own mothers than young, fertile creatures growing a family. I feel removed from both these camps, but maybe I'm just in denial about my place in my lifetime.

Perhaps I am unfazed because I am so damn lucky right now. Trite expressions of contentment don't even begin to cover my good fortune. And though I recognize that my life is exactly what I wanted it to be, I am also blessed with almost daily flashes of insight that make my heart and spirit feel full. What is better than being married to the absolute love of my life? Understanding what partnership means, and knowing I am part of one that is strong and enduring. What could be more of a blessing than my two beautiful, sweet girls? The challenges that motherhood has foisted on me. And yes, I mean that in a good way. I am forced out of every comfort zone I ever had by the responsibility of growing what I hope to be healthy and independent women, giving me an understanding of my true potential. Another perk is that watching children grow is like glimpsing humanity in miniature (no pun intended). Realizing the how and the why of many base human emotions has the symbiotic effect of making me more thoughtful in how I approach others in my daily life, as well as how I approach children. It's amazing, really.

These ponderings may imply that motherhood and wifehood have made me a 1000% better person. If only that were true. While I strive for my potential 'goodness', often hampered by my lack of aptitude, at least I know that I am truly a better person since risking my heart and soul to be part of this family. And now my job is no longer about me. There is no dress code, no office, no guidelines, no boss. It doesn't matter how much I weigh or how many wrinkles I have. My job is entirely about creating joy, peace, strength and security.

So, 40? Big effing deal. I have bigger fish to fry. Bring it on.

Last hoo-rah

JBL and I went to Atlanta Friday night to catch what could very well be Ryan Adams' last live performance. It was amazing. As with their show in December, opening for Oasis, this performance was full of solid, rocking guitar from both Ryan and Neil Cassal. The songs chosen for the set were all over the map, from emotional to punchy and back again. And the Fox Theater? Well, it truly lived up to its billing as Fantastic. I swear, it was something out of Vegas.

I could go on about how wonderful it all was, and what a talent Ryan Adams is (and the band, too, but you know how I feel), but I won't beat that dead horse. I will say I feel a bit down now that it's over. Am I glad to see possibly his last show? Absolutely. But I am more than sad to think he's not out there making music any longer, for health or any other reasons. In a way, his music has been a soundtrack for my time with JBL to date. It's like a chapter in my life is ending.

Ok, enough drama. There's always Stranger's Almanac, ne c'est pas? And it's good to be home.

Old school classic rock

Just finished watching the Chris Isaak Hour. I think I could live in this kind of music land for...well a very long time...before I felt the need to return to reality. Anyone remember his early stuff? Long before Wicked Game, there was Don't Make Me Dream About You. It's sad that I can't find the video for this on YouTube.

Bad grocery song of the day - March 19

You know, the other day I thought I had hit on a new possibility of finding peace with bad grocery music. The Mt. Airy Safeway actually played Stay Up Late by the Talking Heads. But then, today happened:

99

Have they no shame? Who thinks, honestly, I could use a little more Toto in my life?!

One more day til spring...

Nothing like a good head cold to make you feel like your teeth and cheekbones are being pushed out from the inside. *sigh* Missed my run today. Bumming.

The test

It's always a pleasure to be with JBL's mom. She is eccentric and warm. She showers the girls with gifts and hugs. Though they may go months without seeing her, K & J go running into her arms without the slightest bit of shyness or discomfort. She holds them on her lap and whispers to them, making them laugh and kiss her before jumping up to explore the tchotchkes that fill every corner of her home.

She's the kind of person who remembers everything you have ever told her, and will buy you the perfect gift based on what you want most deep in your heart - even if you've never put it to words. When you talk with her, she listens intently and makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world at that moment. I often find myself telling her very personal things because I am so comfortable with her. She makes me feel safe.

She is also fiercely independent, and knows what she wants her world to be like. She has recently taken the reins of her life, to the extent that she can, after decades of living with demons. In a way I have always felt the need to take care of her, to shelter her a bit from the parts of her world she cannot control, but she herself has never made me feel this was expected or necessary. After the tumultuous times with my own mother, I have been grateful for this freedom from responsibility.

Sunday's visit, however, was different than most. We brought the girls up to have lunch with her, and to see how she was faring after a recent surgery. She was slow-moving, and obviously chagrined at being without makeup. She had made an effort to be 'up' for us, wearing dressy-casual clothes, and lots of her usual fun and funky jewelry. She expressed her discomfort openly as she sat or stood, and made it clear that she was still dealing with the anxiety surrounding the hospital stay. Understandably so, I would say.

Over the course of the afternoon, though, it became clear that JBL's mom will need my help, and sooner than we all thought. The question is, can I answer the call? She put her feet up repeatedly, exclaiming with nervous dismay that she's been struggling with edema. I tried to soothe her by saying how her feet and ankles didn't look that bad. "My mom's legs would swell all the way up to her knees, and the blood vessels just under her skin would burst, making her legs look totally bruised. Yours look good - lets just get you a soft stool to rest your feet on, though."

When she disclosed that she had also had trouble breathing in the hospital, even on oxygen, I began to feel uneasy. "The doctor said I have...what is it? OCD? That's when I finally decided to quit smoking." My eyebrows shot up. "You mean COPD?" "Yes! That's it. And those inhalers are SO expensive, my insurance turned me down.... Can you picture me trying to mow the lawn this summer trying to drag an oxygen tank behind me?" Her attempt at levity fell a bit flat. Maybe it was the expression on my face. My own mother had been on oxygen 24/7 for the year preceding her death.

"Yikes," I said, "well at least they have those nice little carts!" I felt my gaze slide off into the distance as I thought of the future. She had been having growing back pain due to scoliosis long before the surgery, and now with the COPD, I felt certain she would have to move to a single level home. This was a possibility I'd considered for some time anyway. But so soon?

I talked with her about the need for a move, and she was at once petrified and accepting, flat out asking if I could 'make it happen' for her so that she could avoid as much stress over the ensuing upheaval as possible. I declared, "I will do everything in my power to help you." But I realized our discussion made it seem real to her, and she was already retreating behind a wall of fear.

When we left, we did the dishes, took out the trash, got her in bed and made sure she'd taken her medications. She looked frail and small to me. There on the nightstand sat a bowl of chocolates. "You know, I usually eat a bag of those a day? Since the surgery I haven't been able to because of the nausea." Eating loads of chocolate and smoking to deal with stress, while ignoring the obvious physical repercussions? This was all beginning to sound too familiar.

I sense another crisis looming out there on the horizon, and this crisis may be the only incentive for her to move. Why must it come to that? I've seen this movie before, and I don't like the way it ends. At least I have another opportunity to effect a difference - to truly bring peace of mind and perhaps a sense of safety. If this is a test, I hope I more than pass for once.

It never gets old

The girls are still enjoying the cd that accompanied Philadelphia Chickens. I admit I am too. Go get it if you have not already...

Random Funny

"Can I have one more sip of water?"

"Here you go. You're a thirsty girl tonight!"

"I'm thirsty-McThirsty-pants."

"Indeed."

Mark this date

I heard the first robin song this morning. Lots of new growth beginning.

This is the kind of Hope and Change I can get behind...

Why is it?

Did you ever stop to think that once you became Mom, you could no longer - EVER - be the person that uses the last square of toilet tissue but does not put a new roll on?

You see, sometimes I'm as much dark cloud as silver lining.

Shadow over the sun

I just learned that a member of my running group lost her husband unexpectedly in a fatal car crash Monday evening. I am shaken by this news, and immediately think to count my blessings.

Loss can happen to anyone at any time. Love those close to you with all your might...

Bad grocery song of the day - March 3rd

Yesterday in the grocery I heard any number of bad songs (Just Like Livin' in Paradise, for one), but the award has to go to:

Here Comes the Rain Again

The song in and of itself is not patently offensive. I just don't know that I ever need to hear it again, you know?

I left my heart...

Some would say I fall in love easily. Some would say I am fickle, mercurial, or flighty. Potato, potahto. I know all these things are true. Others may have touched my heart in the past, but I don't recall feeling quite this thrilled or alive before. Charleston, you had me from 'hello'.

It certainly is easy to adore a city draped in springtime finery, but this town had more than just blooms to entice me. Perhaps I was disarmed because many of its charms felt so familiar. Charleston has the historical architecture of Federal Hill, Annapolis, and even Nantucket. It has the grand loveliness of Paris, San Fransisco, and Tuscany. It's easy-going lifestyle, rooftop bars and palm tree-lined streets are reminiscent of Key West. It's haute cuisine and enophilia are rivaled only by the finest establishments in New York and London. The historic center of town, however, has an almost exotic feel that is all its own. And its people, well, they are the nicest I have met anywhere.

On my first run, I was able to get the lay of the land (and luckily for me, it's quite flat land, at that). I ran down the high shopping corridor of King Street, through the residential splendor in the southern section of town, around the tip of the Battery, up East Bay past the restaurants and pubs, and through the historic Market area on my way back to the hotel. What could I love more? Sleepy, yet somehow immaculate alleyways strewn with fountains, ivy and opalescent oyster shells. A magnificent church on almost every corner, speaking to the city's open and accommodating past, coupled with quiet and respectful cemeteries. Gracious, enormous homes in every color of the rainbow.


And there are many reasons to return. Though we thoroughly enjoyed our walking tour with local expert and soon-to-be content mogul Tommy Dew, there is much more history to be explored, both in and around this great city. Though we got down to Folly Beach and up to Sullivan's island, there is much more of the low country to discover. I want to steep myself in its beauty and culture. I want to spend quiet afternoons contemplating its significance to our country. I can envision more than just visiting.

Historic Charleston seems to me like a beautiful, aging woman. It is a place that lifts your spirits and calms your mind. It is a city that inspires and delights with history and grace around every corner. And it is a place that could very, very easily feel like home.

Kansas

I have a big post coming about our weekend in Charleston, but first, as I get caught up on some work, I had to share how this market is making me feel. I feel like the bottom of my stomach has fallen off - I am so uneasy. I am starting to feel like there is no market bottom, that all my life savings could go to zero and never come back. Irrational? Perhaps, but... It's not really what I needed on the day I am set to sign a contract to send J to private school. There's really only one way to summarize it:

How long?

Sorry. Someone else had to share my pain.