New Life, for Some

My husband is 'semi-retired' now. Meaning he hunts and fishes for four to six weeks at a time, then returns to a regular work schedule when he is home, usually 8-5. Hmmm.

This is not working for me. I am alone during the dark autumn evenings when he travels, and have him around for dirtying the kitchen and going to bed early for work when he is home.

It's not like I can have a network of friends to spend time with and then abandon when he decides to be home, or just go and do my own thing whether he is here or not. I am alone, in the worst way, except if he was dead, I mean.

I am not a solitary person. I really like conversation, cooking and visiting with someone everyday. But, suddenly, since June, I have been alone more than I have been a part of a couple. I don't think I like this...

Clean Up On Aisle Life!

I feel like I should be a character in the children's book 'Everybody Poops'. I would be the clean up person, the poop scooper, the carpet cleaner, the gagging glove-clad follower of the parade...

No such character exists, of course, but it should. And, it would be me.

My grandpugs are visiting. One of them, the youngest, has had some, uhmm, gastric upset lately. I'm talking the visible foggy paint peeling gas and copious amounts of semi-soft crap all over the house. I bought new carpet when we moved into this place, and I have tried to limit the exposure to nasties and toxins.

Suddenly, though, it is as if I live in a land mine area full of unusual smells and scary tarry piles.

I am thinking of diapers...

You've Got Mail

My husband got more than a laugh out of seeing an AARP membership solicitation addressed to me in the mail. He got downright gleeful, all 'ha-ha-ha' over it.

That lasted until I sorted through the pile of mail and discovered a meaningful missive just for him: a pre-paid plan for cremation...

Email and Facebook etiquette

Everything one writes on Facebook or sends in an email is just a substitute for the spoken work. In other words, if we send it to others or post it on Facebook, we have stated it as fact and as something we support. If we pass on an untruth or unconfirmed statements as 'fact', we are both advancing another's agenda (unwittingly, I hope!), or undermining our own credibility.

We only get one chance with each of our acquaintances at being a person of character and truth. If we value that, we have a duty to verify information before we hit 'forward' or 'send'. If we don't, we lose that chance. I value my credibility with you. I therefore promise to you that I will check out the things I send to you as best I can to confirm their truth, as I have done in the past. Because I know two things: 1) I value my credibility in your eyes, and 2) I value you and your time more than to make you read untruths or rumors because my name is attached to them.

I further promise that if you find that something I have sent you is wrong, untrue or offensive, I will appreciate your feedback and will not be offended for pointing it out to me, because I know you do so out of love and respect for me.

Internet communication has been around long enough that it is time for personal responsibility. If we utilize the technology, we owe it to others to use it responsibly, correctly and with good manners.

Here are some rules we should adopt that might prove useful for Facebook and emails:

(You won't easily find these in books or on websites covering a modern version of etiquette, but they should be part of everyone's introduction to the computer. In fact, I'd lobby for them to be printed on every computer.)

1. Send only what you have checked out and that you want to have associated with your name and character. If you don't know, or don't have the time to check it out: don't send it!!

2. If you regularly forward almost all or all of your emails, shame on you! You are not thinking of your friends or what might really interest them; you are mindlessly cluttering their inboxes and taking up their valuable time. That is not 'staying in touch' nor is it communicating, it is dumping.

3. If you are forwarding items, be responsible and delete the addresses of others you are sending it to. Send it to yourself and put everyone else in the Bcc (blind courtesy copy) box so that personal email addresses aren't out there for others to exploit.

4. If you think something is worth passing on, take the time to make it appear polite and presentable. In other words, colored text, giant text, different fonts, exclamations, capitals, scrolling, emoticons, all that 'stuff' is the equivalent of screaming at your reader. Yes, all those buttons can be used, but SHOULD they? It is irritating to be forced to scroll down, down, down, having one's chain yanked, reading one. GIANT. red. green. blue. word. at. a. time. Make the point, get to the punch line, and let your reader off the hook. They are certain to have other emails to read. If we hogged a conversation in the same manner, we would get slapped or rejected socially, probably both.

If this confirms your current practice, you are a mature, informed and considerate user of modern communication tools. (But, I bet you know someone who could use this email.) If, though, you think this might describe you even a little, rather than take offense, think honestly about your communication with others. I'll bet, even if no one told you directly, someone is thinking you need a primer, and this is it.

Becoming Real...

Google image of the illustration by William Nicholson from the book by Margery Williams, published 1922

This is one of my all-time favorite sections of the book The Velveteen Rabbit. I am in a pensive and thoughtful mood, pondering the concept of becoming a better, more real person. Enjoy...

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

A Young Woman Leaves Home

Seattle, where a piece of my heart will live

Google image

Today, my daughter moved hundreds of miles away from home to Seattle. She graduated college with honors after attending on a full ride scholarship. She has gone from being a quiet private high schooler to a strong, wickedly witty young woman with friends surrounding her as she herds them to outdoor challenges. She radiates confidence and energy. She is fully prepared for the big world away from her small town roots.

But, still. I am at once sad to my bones at her leaving, happy for what life will gift her with, and pleased that she feels free to go. But, still. She is my baby, the last of the brood. She will be no longer within quick reach to rescue or simply to touch. She will be hours away. I will no longer have the expectation of the step at the door being hers. I will no longer see her burst through the back door, Pug and laundry basket balanced precariously, saying breathlessly, 'Hi, Mom! I got some time so we came down!'

I clearly remember my mother's sadness when I left home at seventeen. I, too, felt the heaviness of the moment, not without a little fear. And, I felt sorry for my mother. She seemed so old, so vulnerable, so unhealthy. And, she was. Not really old, but worn out by poverty and hard work and disappointment. But she was vulnerable and unhealthy, and I felt like I was abandoning and betraying her. I cried all the way to my new apartment near the university I was to attend.

I have broken the cycle of poverty and abuse in yet another way with my own daughter's leave-taking. She knows I am whole, and healthy, and busy, and involved in my own life. She need not fear for me, or feel like a traitor to me in order to seek her own dreams. And, that is another gift I can offer my children. I have given them roots, and now I offer wings.

Fly high, my sweet child. I'll be here, always.

(from Journal of Ravensayrie)

All I pay my psychiatrist is the cost of feed and hay, and he'll listen to me any day.

~Author Unknown