Pondering Perfection

Note from IreneE: Do NOT schedule Christmas at our home when we are just finishing a class segment! Just when did you expect to get everything done?

Note from Irene: She’s right! But she doesn’t have to pout just because I haven’t been able to write regularly in - - - oops too long! Like I can’t feel the pressure and need to write on my own? It’s not the guilt though – there is a NEED to write! I gotta let go…

OK – this is Irene, the mortal. I’m not perfect and somewhere, sometime we will discover that the biggest sin we can create is in trying to be – so at the risk of sinning big time…

A box arrived for me in Red’s box from his dad.

I didn’t see him opening it as there was a lot of family over and I was probably distracted. So when he brings me over a smaller box and a handful of photos I was caught completely off guard.

In my hand was a picture of myself. Well not just me it was a picture of Red, Kasmira, my ex-inlaws and me.

There I was about 12 or 13 years ago staring into the camera. I was happy. Relaxed. Healthy. I was me as I see myself.

Me. Before my 2nd divorce – the one from the kids’ dad – before I’d ever heard the term “near affair” and understood why my marriage was so void.

Me. Before congestive heart failure and hysterectomy.

Me. Before my 3rd divorce.

Me. Before being a single parent.

Me. Before finishing my BA – after 25 years of taking classes on again and mostly off again.

Me. Before my daughter chose to leave me in favor of living with her dad.

Me. Before beginning the MASPED program I have almost completed. (6 more weeks of class!)

Me. Before the foreclosure notice was nailed to my home and my garbage cans were repossessed.

Me. Even before the word autism became a household phenomena for us.

Me. A life-time ago. Well, a dozen or so years ago anyway.

Me. With no worry lines, at my ideal weight – the picture of hope, happiness and health.

A picture of me with my kids (the ex-inlaws can be edited out!)

There were a few more similar pictures, some other pictures of the kids and an older picture of my great-grandparents in the box. No note.

Christmas morning I looked at that picture and almost cried with the rush of every emotion possible.

Where was that person now?

The image shows me as I feel a good chunk of the time – but the camera doesn’t reveal her anymore.

Images of me have been replaced with a cynic who looks 35 pounds heavier, with complexion the color of stress. Images show me as the pasty, worry- faced, fatter, less optimistic version of how I see myself.

After I got over the shock of seeing myself so happy and relaxed and healthy I wondered why the heck the ex would send me the box of pictures?

My inner cynic responded immediately – they are photos of me with his parents in the picture – he couldn’t send them to his parents and he didn’t want them – they were an “in-your-face” cheap shot. (yes – you’d have to know the ex to understand how I knew this).

And my inspiration.

OK – the photos were not all of his parents and me.

There were some of the kids and such and now I vaguely remember him telling me that my ex-husband #3 had given them to him to return to me – and he’d told me he was keeping the duplicates and would be sending the box out sometime – and he did.

Staring at myself in my hands is my inspiration. This is the year I reclaim myself.

I am more than a survivor – I Thrive with life. Truly!

I am Happy, Healthy, Wealthy and Wise. I am Blessed. This is not a destination but a way to enjoy the journey.

Make Merry and Enjoy the joys of the Season

(Irene is the goofy mom on the right. We're waiting for our kids to come by in the town holiday light parade. Photo from the middle mom's camera and a young friend of hers)

I’ve got myself in a pickle (Tis the season!) more to do than hours in a day but that’s what living full can do. I’m not exactly having visions of sugar plums, more like doing my homework in my sleep, coming up with lesson plans in my dreams (and praying for new ones!) and doing the Christmas traditions with my sons Red and Mick and working in new traditions with the band and guess what? My home was voted on for hosting the family tradition this year and here I thought my son was going to go to Georgia and his grandparents in Illinois – silly me. I couldn't be more grateful.

I miss my daughter but get in some video conferencing with her and her beau. He's a sweet young man. But I digress and find myself distracted once again... LOL - It sure doesn't take much... oh - hey pretty lights and I like that song...

So here’s a bit of distraction to enjoy: http://www.accuradio.com/holidays/ check out this link for holiday music choices (we’re listening to the rock one now) and when you need to dip below the PC belt and tickle your funny with a skeletal puppet, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsHtNZzpzcI&NR=1

I should be back in a couple days with something more festive (maybe???)

Happy writing and memories,
Irene and IreneE

ps

Mick has been making some holiday suggestions for families with autism - please check them out: http://mickandboy.blogspot.com/

Thanksgiving Attitude

Happy Thanksgiving.

I enjoy Thanksgiving for the reminder of what I am thankful for; family and friends always top my list. This year I am also thankful for my busy life because it’s not just busyness; my life is very full with much that is important to me.

My daughter is in one of the top aeronautical colleges in the world, my son is in band and both children are happy. What mother can ask for more?

I am almost finished with my master’s degree in Special Education and I am positively impacting students and families in the school setting, community and cyber communities. All of these activities put me in a position to learn even more and that is just another blessing in my life.

Sure, there are the nights when I crawl to bed after getting home from band practice, finish my homework and research for lessons to present to my students or ponder ways to deflate the bullies in my son’s life but those moments are special to me because I really am doing things I enjoy (I do wish the bullies peace so they can move on with their lives and leave my boy alone). I may be drop-to-deep-sleep exhausted but I’m happy.

I wish there were more hours in a day not so that I can get to the sink full of dishes but so that I can learn more, or read my boy a story (which somehow or other will begin again!), or create more blog posts or write more.

I have dust bunnies with names. They don’t eat much and they don’t poop; no worries.

My daughter and I spoke online with video twice today logging in over 2 hours (sharing with family). Talk about blessings and technologically enhanced miracles. Sure, more hours in the day would be good when they come with Love.

I’m with family, my belly is full and I have plenty to be thankful for. I am truly blessed.

If every day we practiced noticing what we are thankful for, think how huge an impact that would have in our lives; within ourselves, our families, communities and globally.

Remember to be thankful for the busyness of life, there's truly much to be grateful for.

I think Thanksgiving is a day to practice an attitude that can be nurtured into daily living - maybe replacing the extra helpings of calorie rich foods with the busyness of love.

Peace Out Veterans and Thank you

I believe I could get used to long weekends. We had (bummer - past tense) a four day weekend in honor of our American Veterans.

Thank you for the week end to be sure. But mostly, Thank you for your service - your time. Peace be with you.

I am not exactly pro-war preferring we strive for world peace, and this too is generally (har har) is the overall ambition of those who do serve our county in the military.

Don't believe me, just engage a veteran in conversation. They're all for world peace - it's the reason many got into the military to begin with.

I'm a peace-lovin' person and do so wish we could settle our world problems with multi-flavor ice-cream instead of weapons of mass destruction.

Peace out my friends and dig in.

There's plenty of ice-cream and all the toppings one could wish, even if you just want to gobble up the toppings with a splash of whip cream sans the ice-cream. Of course there are big mouth spoons too.

But that's just an idea for world peace negotiations. I'm sure there are plenty more peaceful ideas.

I don't say these things to dis-serve the men and women who serve or have served our country in the past, today or in the future. On the contrary, I am in support of the veteran's and to those that have served our country I am grateful. I am also thankful to those soldiers who serve today. (I do have my reservations about the commander-in-chief)

Wish you could go home due to world peace but i know that's not the case.

Last weekend, I met a man who served in WWII.

He claimed that there are no heroes and was very upset about McCain's using his military status as former POW to elicit votes. He is now a self-professed former Republican. He's also not for the war we're in now. He believes we were brought into it for oil and big business money.

This veteran was my son's age, 15, when he chose to lie about his age and enlist during the last world war.

I can not fathom my son making such a decision. The thought actually scares me like nothing else can - except my daughter enlisting.

She's signed on going through Air Force ROTC while she's working on her college degree.

So now, you just may see me with my long hair wearing peace beads, Birkenstock sandles and rose colored glasses (I like the way they make the the colors pop) while I climb into my minivan and wonder why I have no bumper stickers. Dad said they mess up the car.

I didn't have any political bumper stickers either although I wanted to but I just don't put bumper stickers on my car. "Times they are a changing" though, as Bob Dylan once wrote and sang about a previos war. I may have to post my views.

I'd have a large peace sign and the bumper sticker that says "my daughter's in the Air Force".

This doesn't make me an oxymoron. Nor does it mean that I don't support my daughter, I do.

It just means I now pray even harder for world peace.

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Inspiration

According to the Online Webster’s Dictionary inspiration involves the supernatural to move or guide or breath or blow upon and to exert “an enlivening or exalting influence…” in order to draw forth or bring out.

Wow, that’s a pretty tall order, thank goodness (or goddess if you prefer) there are muse to help out here (of course we are the supernatural – just ask us!).

Lately, Irene hasn’t felt overly inspired and who can blame her?

The mortal world is pretty scary right now. Stress is one of those factors that can counter-inspire even the heartiest mortals.

Add in some other distractions such as elections, email and some self-saboteurs like a bad case of “the shoulds” and any mortal can find their link to inspiration blocked.

It’s not because we muse go away, we are actually around all of the time (remember that incredible idea you had in the shower awhile back?), blowing and drawing inspiration.

No sometimes there’s just a mountain of stuff between us with no communication link.

We may be divine and supernatural and more but the whole system requires an open channel of communication between us and we are only permitted to go so far, the mortal has to do their part too.

So what’s a mortal to do?

Get out of your mind!

Say what? Go crazy in a different way. Clearly, whatever you’ve been doing isn’t working so shake the brain.

Do something different.

Take a walk. You walk every day? Good for you! Take your walk in a different location or at the very least, change directions!

Look up and notice things, people and the scents around you.

Smell. Breathe deep and taste your world.

Listen to a different type of music.

Change up your stimulus. Put a different station on the radio, close your eyes and let your body find the beat. Feel the energies gather and when you can’t stay still, bounce your toes, wriggle your bootie, and move.

Move your whole body. Dance!

Involve your taste buds. Go to a restaurant you’ve wanted to try or cook that recipe your friend sent you. Indulge yourself with a new flavor of ice cream or coffee.

Notice what happens to the food in your mouth. Swirl it around like wine.

Now, write about your experience!

Put your pen to paper and take action.

At first the words may not flow with inspiration (you did bind, gag and banish your inner-critic didn’t you?).

You may need to repeat these steps a few times but I promise, if you get out of your head and open the channel of communication and engage in the action of writing your muse will come through.

And seriously, be sure to have something to write with and on when inspiration strikes.

I can’t tell you how often we muse wham you mortals in the shower (no apologies for the inconvenience) and you guys can’t be bothered to drip out and write this great stuff down! It’s darn right insulting!

Palin is NOT a Diva!

I resent Palin being called a diva.

Okay, I have tried to keep my political views out of this blog if only to give a respite, but the line was crossed today when some unnamed informant from the McCain/Palin camp called Sarah Palin a diva. http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/10/25/palin.tension/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

Palin is not a diva! And how unfair is to all true divas to refer to her as one?

Then the sorry mortal crossed another line when he or she said, “Divas trust only unto themselves, as they see themselves as the beginning and end of all wisdom”.

While that may be true of Sarah Palin, divas have no such belief.

Let’s focus. What exactly is a diva?

Diva is Latin, meaning, “goddess” or “divine one” and was used by the Italians to describe mortal opera singers of supreme talent in the late 1800’s. Since then it has been used to describe other talented women in music and beyond.

Okay, the term “diva” has been used to describe a “difficult women” or women who have a higher opinion of themselves than is shared by others. Additionally, “diva” is considered synonymous with “prima donna” by Marrium Webster which is defined as, “a vain or undisciplined person who finds it difficult to work under direction or as part of a team”.

Ummm.

There are, however, many other terms that are better suited to describe a challenging woman with an inflated ego that do not demean divas everywhere.

“Diva” is now used in current culture to describe women (and men!) young and mature, who celebrate their inner goddess (or if preferred, divus is the masculine form and can be used by those who choose to celebrate their inner god) and the diva (or divus) in others.

Diva is an attitude.

The term “diva” focuses on the positive aspects of goddess not on shallow or distinctly human pettiness or "put downs". In other words, “diva” is an attitude of aspiring to goddess type qualities.

Divas claim and use their natural talents.

Divas respect, trust, and believe in themselves and in the greatness of all. They take care of themselves and celebrate their femininity and their unique gifts, typically using their talents for the greater good.

Divas, are gracious, generous, go-get-‘er-done types capable of being more than the average mortal - because they know in their heart and soul they can.

Divas are inspirational!

Think of the qualities that are considered divine.

A diva exemplifies these in attitude, ambition and actions.

If not altogether capable of always sustaining such goddess abilities in actuality (just yet), a diva practices and aspires to divine greatness in everything she does.

Palin, most certainly is not a modern day diva. As described by her own people, she represents the antiquated definition of diva, the negative definition that society once used to prescribe roles that limited ambitious women and the female divine.

Sarah Palin is an anti-diva disguised in a skirt.

Resisting Reluctance

Resisting and Reluctance to write can be a huge problem.

But it doesn't have to be.

I sometimes find myself really wanting to write and simultaneously avoiding it. Know what I mean?

It’s not even like I’m telling myself, “I should”, nor is it that life throws in some obstacles that keep me from writing. Sure that happens but its not what my recent bout of inactivity is.

No, occasionally, for any number of reasons, I flat out really want to write but also really don’t want to. It’s a confusing place to be. And it's where I am right now.

Usually I’m not exactly sure why I’m even in such a quandary when I’m in the thick of it and I don’t even believe that there is a consistent reason. I think the reasons for the dilemma change and that these are usually easier to understand in retrospect.

Sometimes the reason is my ideas are still percolating internally. Driving, gardening, or beach bumming tends to help the perc along.

Other times, my brain is truly scattered with static. Perhaps the clutter has swamped me or perhaps other stressors nag at me stealing the writing away.

And perhaps, like others, I have a fear of success mixed with an equal dose of fear of failure.

And yes, there are those times when the problems are not that deep at all. I’m just busy spending my energies doing those millions of things that a mom has to do.

So in retrospect (having taken some action, I can say retrospect), I believe my recent lack of activity is all of the above. And although my lack of activity clearly demonstrates a problem, I’m no closer to locating the source, I am closer to a solution.

As things often do not happen in isolation, I’ve had a lot of things chipping away at me and I flat out haven’t written.

But this doesn’t have to be a problem. In fact it isn't a problem now.

What I have on my side is a history of writing. I know I can recreate the writing habit. And the habit of writing will put me back on course. Sure, I’m likely to have some off days, but the habit will carry me through. I tend to write virtually every morning – except on occasions when I’m in a writing quandary like this, and even then, I write – even if its just to forward email.

Grant, I may not publish every little thing I write, I will have more to choose from.

Just writing these exploratory passages, I think I now know where the source of my quandary is – and it’s not an unusual one at all for writers. I’ve a story I want to tell, but I’m unsure about committing it to a public forum such as this.

I may have to get it down in a private way, allow it to stew for a while, simmer a bit longer and rewrite it a few times before I release it, but she’s there, ready to break free.

And my problem is solved - by activity! In this case, writing, which once again proves that the cure for inactivity is activity. Just do it already!

Bad Girl Band Backers

I Become a Bad Girl Band Backer

Saturday was very busy. We usually limit ourselves to just one activity a day but sometimes activities just happen.

I tried my best to be excused from the band trip to a competition a few hours from us but Red wanted me there to “show my support”. But come on. 5 hours each way for less than 13 minutes on the field?

It seemed like a lot to ask but no way could I wriggle out of being anything less than a total Band Backer.

Which is how I found myself in the back of a brand new Tahoe with leather seats cruising the highways with 4 other ladies having an absolute blast! The driver couldn't “caravan” with the buses because, as she said, “I can’t drive that slow!”. Darn!

We were getting to know one another while we sang off key to the music we’d grown up with.

We laughed so hard we had to make extra pit stops. One lady even had to use her inhaler – more than once!

I’m really thankful that Red insisted I go. Not only did I meet some new friends, laughed until I had to pee and munch out on typically forbidden foods, I got to see what the big deal is about marching band competitions.

I had no idea! There is a lot of effort and thought put into these things. Our band has really improved since I last saw them, placing 2nd in their division. Impressive actually.

We watched some of the other bands perform. Those in the upper divisions – wow! I wish I could give details that explained the thrill of all of those instruments, the drill team twirling flags and the use of lighting, costumes and theatrics to put on their presentation.

After the award ceremony we saw our kids head to the busses while we climbed back into the Tahoe and went in search of Starbucks sustenance for the return trip.

More singing, laughter and giggles ensued to keep the driver awake. Once we returned to town we went to Denny’s to hang out until the buses returned. I’d forgotten what the 2AM crowd at Denny’s consisted of.

Good-grief. If I have to wear something like that to date I’m just staying out of the pool.

Right after the waitress left with our drink order a group of bikers around our age came in. The largest guy of the bunch reminded me of the Leroy Brown from the song by Jim Croce we’d recently sung.

Maybe I was staring as I thought about Leroy Brown. He was huge. And he was right next to me. We couldn’t be sitting much closer if I’d been at his table.

As he sat down he said to us, "don't look at my a_ _".

I’m proud of myself.

I refrained from making a comment - but then I noticed what was in my hands.

Of their own will, they were twisting the end of the straw wrapper.

I watched as it came up to my lips and my head turned and took aim.

As the wrapper arced toward the target I knew it was going to connect. How could it not hit such a fathead in such close proximity?

My 2nd to last thought just before it hit was, “S _ _ t! What have I done? The guy’s a giant biker dude”.

My last thought as it connected was, “oh well, this is going to be a great story”!

The wrapper bounced off, rolled down his back, which by the way, had considerably more hair than his head.

I sat stunned by my behavior and looked around at the other ladies.

My new friend next to me was laughing so I joined in. The ladies across from me were laughing but not sure why. I couldn’t quit laughing. I was in hysterics. I hid my face in my hands, giggling afraid to look at the table next to me. No one could say why we were laughing.

Now there are some real horror stories about biker dudes, giant and otherwise and then there are those crazy romances that began with just such absurdity.

He just wasn’t that imaginative.

Giant Biker Dude made a lewd comment about blowing something else, followed with how I should be grateful he doesn’t hit women. Like any of the other biker guys would have let him? He made a few more lewd comments while he inhaled his platter and then he went outside to smoke his cigarettes.

Apparently it was good for him.

The last guy to leave their table leaned down and said to just me, “Now that’s going to be a hell of a story”.

Someday, I’d like to hear his version.

Zen, Muse and the Art of Honda Transmissions

Honda's are the Diva’s of the mom vehicle world.

In particular they are very sensitive to the type of transmission fluid they are given.

Recently Gwen, my Honda Odyssey was given a sip of generic transmission fluid from a caring individual at one of those retail change-the-oil locations (who will remain anonymous for now). I was informed about the added fluid after the fact but didn’t think much about it.

A short time later Gwen began showing signs of distress, bucking at intersections, revving RPM (also known as transmission flaring) and not accelerating properly.

She’s not exactly young and she has seen over 180,000 miles of travel and local destinations but she’s family. She’s our transportation and travel companion. We’ve shared a lot of good memories.

The treatment for the toxic sip of generic transmission fluid is a drain of the fluid and a refill of the 3 quarts with authentic certified Honda transmission fluid, which we did.

Less than a month later on our trip to Monterey for the weekend, Gwen had a relapse and then seemed to be doing better while in Monterey. Then this morning while I was attempting to drive Red and Mick to school she seemed to be ready to give up the fight entirely.

Bucking and not accelerating the whole way to school, Gwen chugged through intersections I was sure we’d be stranded in. During the morning break, I took her to a nearby mechanic. Go figure, she drove just fine.

The mechanic wanted to charge me $225 just to put her on the diagnosis computer.

Give me a break!

I’m lucky enough to have a Honda certified mechanic in the family so I sat in their parking lot near tears and called him up.

He was aghast at the high fee for basically using a hand held device one can buy from Snap-On Tools for $75! He suggested I bring Gwen to him, which I did. So for the price of a tank of gas (pricey but less than $225!) to get there and back and $30 for 6 quarts of Honda certified transmission fluid (3 for today and 3 for reserve), a couple bucks for a slice of pizza, Gwen is running happy again.

The 3 extra quarts are to use next time Gwen needs them. She may need another transfusion because only half of the fluid gets changed at a time as half remains in the transmission somewhere while half is available to drain.

My family Honda Mechanic also states that transmission fluid in Honda’s should be changed about every 3rd oil change, automatic transmissions being the “weak link” in Honda’s. A dealer mechanic wont verify this, but after close to 30 years of servicing almost exclusively Honda’s, my mechanic knows them well.

And I sure as heck will take his word for it over the guy charging $225 just to look.

Oh, the relation to writing or Muse? Travel time baby! Long car rides are Zen for writers and I got 5 hour's worth today.

Eos, Family Fun and Wine

My sister, Roro came out from Colorado for a brief visit this weekend. She and Mom drove down from Pacific Grove and we went wine tasting and visited family in Fresno.

We were responsibly irresponsible.

We didn’t drink and drive our way to Fresno, although there are a number of wineries along the way. On Friday when they arrived while I was at work, Roro and Mom checked out a few wineries then when I got home she and I went to one of her favorites from a previous visit.

We went to EOS Winery. Eos being the goddess of dawn often portrayed with Pegasus she was cursed by Aphrodite to have an insatiable attraction to younger men. How tragic.

We had a blast!

I tend to be very responsible and usually the designated driver but I turned the keys over to her, had some wine and immediately got loopy. I’m a cheap drunk. By the time we were on our 3rd sample I was actually flirting back with a couple of guys bellied up to the same counter.

Saturday we drove over to Fresno to visit family and again had a blast. When we returned, Roro and I went to another handful of wineries. Although most had the drier reds so we didn’t do a lot of sampling, Ro prefers the sweeter wines, the sights were beautiful.

The late afternoon sun turned the fading leaves golden and the grapes were hanging full and nearly ripe. Fall harvest is just around the corner. I’m making plans to go to some of the harvest events this year.

Hope to see you there too!

Happy Honda has a Home

Our Honda Minivan is once again parked under the protection of the garage!

Yes, I drive a mom van. For my 50th birthday in, blah blah, number of years I plan to treat myself to a luxury 2 seater, perhaps a Mercedes or Fararri, as a midlife crisis present to myself. Hey, I dream big! For now Gwenn is my transportation.

It was not an easy feat to get her into the garage. My efforts to secure her spot were thwarted a few times but I persevered.

Right after I posted my blog entry on Friday, I knocked over a full, very large, cup of coffee next to my favorite blue chair where I sit to catch the sunrise and write. I have no idea why I'd placed it on the floor instead of the end table next to me?

Coffee, sans sugar but more cream than a cow has, spread all over my area rug. I was late to school/work mopping it up and flooding it with water and blotting. When I got home in the late afternoon, the situation didn't look good but there were things to do that didn't involve rugs and garages.

When I woke up on Saturday morning I made more coffee (I am a true addict) and got into my swimsuit. I have a neighbor who is an absolute creepoid stalker (but that's another story) so no way am I going out there naked even if my trees were larger and thicker. I lifted the lid on my hot tub which I discovered right away wasn't working. No steam. I hate having my brilliant plans go a muck.

I fixed some eggs and sausage, did some perusing and writing on the computer in my favorite spot and decided that I didn't like the way the spot on the rug was looking and I was not happy about the hot tub situation either.

I rediscovered my Tweet on twitter which I'm not so sure I enjoy due to the limiting number of characters per post available. But I didn't linger too long, I had a lot to do!

I fiddled with the controls on the hot tub. Since it'd been awhile, I started the draining process on the tub which involves locating the bug spray and squirting around the panel area, even inside, to make sure there are no more black widows lurking. Some memories don't go away.

I took out the filters and sent them through 3 quick cycles of the dishwasher without cleanser, removed them and then I ran another cycle with cleansers to clean out the dishwasher.

While the hot tub drained, I enlisted Red to help me drag the rug outside to the back patio where I proceeded to scrub it down by hand with some carpet cleaners. Because of the doggy smells, I decided to leave it with the cleaners on it for awhile.

I managed to get a few things put away in the garage but not very much. I raised the rug up off the cement and then rinsed it off. It was shocking to see how much of my backyard came rolling off with the soap and coffee, but its been 4 years since I had it washed so maybe not that shocking after all. Wow! Where does the time go?

I wiped out the hot tub and started to refill it. Red's friend arrived and I visited with his mom for a bit and then it was back outside where it looked like more soap was gathering in pools around the rug so I re-rinsed it.

I cooked stir fry for dinner, shut off the water for the hot tub trying to not think about how many gallons of precious water I'd used. I went to flip the breaker back on the hot tub and nothing. Nothing. No motor sounds just the the anticlimactic click as the breaker fell back inert.

I hit the test button. What is a test button in an electrical panel? Nothing! No clicks just a mush. I was expecting something like the reset buttons on the electrical outlets in my kitchen. An audible click with a solid feel. Nothing.

Something isn't working here and I could surly bet that I wasn't going to get a morning hot tub on Sunday either!

Bummer! I was completely done for the day. My muscles were cramping and protesting. I took a hot shower and managed to watch a DVD before dragging my sorry backside to bed.

I choose a Richard Gere fix with Shall We Dance. Nothing like a chick flick with a hottie in tuxedo to restore hope and soul. He is breath taking when he rises up the escalator holding a single red rose.

I'd almost forgotten my favorite explanation of marriage. Susan Seranden's character explains the reason people get married is to bare witness to one another's lives.

It's such a beautiful concept and so far away from my own life experiences that I always tear up just a bit. I also shore up a little faith that as long as I have breath there is hope that it could happen to me too. And isn't that the very purpose of chick flicks?

Well this morning arrived and I fixed another pot of coffee (I did mention that I'm an addict didn't I?) and sat in my favorite chair writing and perusing email and the Internet. then I fixed the boys waffles and bacon (I use the instant micro bacon, its fast and mostly clean), took a shower for my muscles and started in on the garage determined to park my car in there.

Well, I didn't get the other rooms cleaned up but I did manage to get the ceiling fan that will one day be in my son's room off of my bedroom floor where its been for 3 weeks. As the hot tub did not miraculously start up on its own, I may have the handyman or electrician put in the fan along with a few other things on my handyman list.

So the weekend wasn't a total success. It wasn't a bust either. I also got the mirror off the hall floor and hung up, the dust bunnies scampered and I sucked them up in the vacuum when I did the living room where the rug had been.

See, I did accomplish quite a bit, plus, I finished listening to my CD story, Natural Born Charmer, by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, which is typical chick-lit in an entertaining, laugh-out-loud romantic tale between a football player and a headless beaver. Too funny!

Operation Restore Order: Mission Possible

Hey, Irene here.

I wish that I could say that everything is put away where it belongs, but that would be a big fat LIE! And although I am many things, I do try to not lie. Please don't ask me how those pants look on you.

I could make up some excuses but they would merely be excuses. I know what I need and I'm going to jump through the hoops this weekend to get my home back in order.

This project requires my morning energy with daylight. During the week I do get up early but its before dawn and its homework, Internet work and work and school routines.

So tomorrow morning I get to sit in the hot tub early, have a hot breakfast and then start work in the garage at bright light!

I also require music or some other forms of distraction, a way to keep me in one location and I tend to work best when I have someone with me, even if they're not actually working.

So, I've borrowed a book on CD from the library to keep me physically in the garage listening to a story and less likely to wander away. Its sort of like someone is reading to me so maybe that will also help me pretend someone is working with me. Maybe.

Hearing a book on CD has the added benefit of being a reward for me. I've been feeling a bit under spoiled with all of the hard work I've done lately and no time to read, my favorite self-indulgence.

Sunday, I repeat my morning of hot tub and hot breakfast and then work in the home restoring order.

I've got a new book I've ordered from Amazon for added reward that should arrive tomorrow or Monday. Yippee! More self-indulgence but only as my reward for restoring order in my home.

Which really, I know, should be its own reward.

TMS (Too Much Stuff) and an ADHD disorder

As I alluded to in my previous post, I have a lot of beautiful and quite a lot of not so beautiful things. Just things. Dozens of vintage cameras, dozens of tin thermometers and dozens upon dozens of pottery items.

Only some of which I really like. I still have a thing for McCoy planters and a few other McCoy items.

Mostly I have way too much stuff!

The solution seemed simple enough at the time, have a combination yard and collector sale. Yard Sale items outside, and collector items inside.

My brother, who helped me arrive at this solution also volunteered to come up to help me execute the solution. He's been an incredible help! For the past two weekends, there has been a yard and collector sale at my home. He helped the first weekend and Mom came down for the second.

And it was a huge success!

Although I still have a lot of stuff - I have less now.
I was just a bit naive about some of the details it took to execute the plan.

For example, at my brothers suggestion, he and I emptied out the garage of items not for sale.
These items are now stacked in places around my home awaiting my attention. Like I can miss this huge pile of papers in front of my office or the other stack just outside my office? I look at these stacks of things I still need to sort and I freeze up.

It's just too much to face and a real slap-in-the-face with the reality of my ADHD. Now, I'm bright enough to understand that ADHD is very real, and that like any other challenge, one can compensate with other strengths and even find ways to overcome some of the challenges. I even know on a cognitive level ways to overcome many of the challenges. But just looking at the stacks of stuff and I feel as if my brain functions are switched off like a light bulb.
I'm not looking to cure myself of ADHD, I actually embrace many of the aspects it brings to me, especially my creativity.

There are many muse with ADHD to be sure!

It's just I've got to tackle this project one step at a time, or in this case, box at a time. Yes, cognitively I understand it, but looking around my home at the disorder brings to mind the challenges of ADHD and why it is considered a disorder.

Stay tuned as I put myself and home back in order.

The kill on eBay

This is an ex-husband story so if you're just not into those, please accept my apologies and find another one of my posts. Perhaps you'd like to hear about my wonderful son, Red (not related in any way to this particular ex) and his adventures with his canine brother, Mick? 

There are a lot of reasons I am no longer married to the ex and eBay is just one of them. The ex was addicted to what he called, "the kill". He'd surf the eBay site looking for things he enjoyed collecting. 

He'd put it on his list to watch and he'd track the item and then just as the sale was about to end, I'm talking the very last few seconds of the sale, he'd swoop in and snatch the treasure away from someone with a bid just as low as he could above theirs. The Kill!

I don't think "The Kill" is in the true spirit of eBay, but oh how he enjoyed it. Dinner was often timed around his hunting schedules. I never did share his passion for it, even when he claimed to have gotten things for me. 

Like many other wives of hunters, I had a lot of work to do after his successful kills. Paperwork! Posting. Tracking. Money. Sure, he'd "reimburse" me for the items after making me ask a few times (is that passive aggressive or a control issue?), but I didn't get reimbursed for my time...

...until now when I offer it all back from which it came! See you on eBay!

just as soon as I graduate eBay University and know how to create a store...

Hot Hot Hot Yard and Collectibles Sale

I don't know who's bright idea it was to hold a yard sale on the hottest day in September and possibly even August but it was a success!

We sold some cookies and bottled water along with the yard sale items which brought in some extra cash too. The whole day went fairly smooth in spite of record heat. 

We sold a lot of the kid items, and a number of the collectible items and other household items. We had a steady stream of traffic thanks in part to Craigslist and our signs. 

We'd gotten some change the day before and had things pretty well set up to ensure a smooth day. Having the kids sell the waters, cookies and their own items helped them to make connections to money that they never would have gotten in a classroom!

Did I mention yet that the above photos are after the sale? 

We'll be having a repeat this next week with a 20% - 50% reduction in prices. I like the money and I'm enjoying having less clutter and reminders of the ex around. Oh, how he enjoyed "the kill" on eBay. I'll have to tell you that story someday.

Clutter Purging and Clarity of Mind

I have a genetic predisposition to weight gain - the external type. I am a pack-rat. My grand mother saved everything, and mom may not save exactly everything but she has clothes and shoes in more than two closets. 

I'm more like my grandmother. I have boxes and boxes of stuff. Now mind you many items are important - to me. I have inherited most of my grandmother's photographs and I really will one day sort through them. In fact, I have sorted through several boxes of them already. But she was a shutterbug who lived into her nineties.

I also have a lot of photography stuff of my own. Thanks, Grandmom. and I really do mean thanks, I love photography. I also have a couple boxes of seashells for some projects that I will one day get to... and other craft items, and... 

all kinds of collectible stuff that I received from an ex-husband who was addicted to ordering from ebay and oh my gosh, the paperwork challenges of a woman with ADHD. Unless you have ADHD (or love someone who has it) you have no idea what I'm talking about!

Things and projects and stuff can weigh one down in so many ways! 

If you're a pack rat maybe its time... Purge yourself! 

Get help if you need it, either to help physically and/or mentally or even emotionally. I need all the help I can get.

My brother is helping me to put on a yard sale and collector's sale. He's been helping me go through boxes and organize and price and such. Having him here has been really helpful in keeping me focused. He also reminds me by just knowing his own habits, that with help, one can overcome the clutter-bug and pack rat syndromes. 

I keep my objective in focus - better clarity of thought for the projects I want to do, like write and put those pictures Grandmom and I have taken to use!

Refreshing Air and Writing

Summer is fading away into Fall rapidly - on the calender. We are still expected to hit 100+ degrees again today. School started this past week and our classrooms were beyond uncomfortable. 

The person in the thankless position of monitoring the use of utilities which includes our room temperatures sent out emails about the doors being left open while the air conditioners ran. 

Well due to some funky rule that was put into place to reduce sick building syndrome, close to 30% of our room air is brought in from outside and mixed with the circulated cool (or warmed in winter) air. 

Well, 30% of 100+ degree air mixed with 70% of the air cooled with 10 year old AC units makes a real warm stinky mess in an enclosed box-like room when co mingled with a teacher and 30 or so middle school students with changing hormones and hygiene-in-training. Are you breathing in the details?

So what does this have to do with writing or musing?

Glad you asked!

There's been some really great zinger emails circulating. 

Guys, this is great material! I save these zinger emails because they reflect real characters, real issues with great descriptions. 

Emails are real and they can be very fresh! They can refresh your own writing!

Save those emails that contain zest, zing and angst! These are good material to use as motivation, style, character development or any number of ways in your own descriptive writing. You can even use them as springboards. 

How would your character describe a really hot day? 

How would your character (or you) respond to a certain email?

What might cause a rift between 2 reasonable professionals? Whose perspective is "right"? 

Can you see characters that you can use in stories based upon their emails? Sure they will need to be fluffed and altered a bit to protect little things like a current J-O-B but there's good meat in emails.

The best thing is that you can save them without taking up garage space! 

(more to come on this subject later).

Rev Up Your Writing Habits

Today was the first day back to school for my family and me. I work at a middle school in a special education classroom. I'm also working on an MA in Special Education through the University of Phoenix online, although I won't start back to class there for awhile longer.

Thank goodness! So much to do and adjust to. New people, schedules, routines, actually having to get up by a certain time and more demands of time all around.

I like to get up before anyone in the home. This morning I spent the time watering my plants, watching the sun rise, and scrambling with last minute back-to-school details. Not exactly my preference.

I'd rather spend the time writing. Well, watching the sun rise and writing. I have my favorite chair set up in the picture window and the sun rises over the meadow across the street.

I make a pot of coffee and sip and write until its time for my son, Red to get up. I sometimes set the kitchen timer if there's a chance the time will get away from me so that I remember to get him up. Yes, that's happened before. I tend to hyper focus sometimes.

I've spent the whole summer getting up and enjoying my mornings all by myself. Now, I've got to set a time limit for writing, get Red up, do the rest of the morning routine to get us out the door and to school.

Ironically, I tend to write more when I know that I have a limited time. What about your writing? Do you have writing rituals, habits, or tendencies? Are you content with your writing practices or are you looking for some changes?

Try something - anything. You may discover your writing hits a higher metabolism. The primary thing to do is to create a writing habit that works for you. Sometimes an external schedule is just the ticket for greater productivity.

What Do You Need in Order to Write?

What do you need in order to write?

Do you need to be inspired? Would a grand vista just outside of your home make you a better writer? What would you write if you could look outside and see the waves crashing along the ragged shore, the very edge of the world? The ultimate springboard! What couldn't you write? Does your muse require this to write?

Sure it'd be wonderful to have and many a writer has been fortunate to have this type of view but speaking as a Muse, Irene E., you really don't need this to be a writer.

Perhaps a pristine or ornate writing desk with proper lighting and while were dreaming, lets add in the views of groomed gardens in the foreground and ocean vistas in the distance, in order to write. LOL

Sure! I'll take that! But add in an Apple Computer, huge screen, and state-of-the-art software, including digital cameras and other office equipment.

Truly, what you need is a few simple writing tools (pen and paper really) and the habit of writing. That's it!

You read advice from writers in magazines, books or papers and their number one question is, "How can I become a writer?" and their pat answer is always,"Write"!

So what are you waiting for? Get to it - Write something. Anything even if its a, "to do" list that includes buying a new home along the coast! Just write it!

Reading, Writing and Critical Thinking

Reading is an essential aspect of writing - I can't imagine not being able to read anything for an extended period of time! Reading is also a vital tool to critical thinking.

I was glancing through an autobiography by Senator John McCain, the section on his POW survival and was reminded about another POW, Dr. Phillip Butler, I was fortunate to be assigned to interview for a class project.

Both men had been POW's in Vietnam for several years. I wont go into the tactics that the Vietnamese used to demoralize the men held in the Hanoi Hilton except that these men were deprived of reading and writing materials. In Dr. Butler's case that was 8 years! Only it was an open sentence, he had no way of knowing he would be a POW for 8 years.

Not being able to read or write would be one of my definitions of hell.

Of course, the POW's were deprived of all communication - an even greater hell!

Yet the men communicated in spite of the Vietnamese using a tapping code. If the they were caught they were severely beaten. "They'd work you over for a week". But that was less important than the need to communicate.

When I'd commented on the strength of character it must have taken to survive 8 years as a POW Dr. Butler became agitated and adamant, "The reality of our survival is...because we communicated and maintained a social network with each other...it enabled us to survive and come home".

In other words, it was the strength of the group - not the individual. Community.

Umm, How often do we consider our community, let alone the strength of our community? How often do we give any consideration to the reading materials we can choose from, or the ability to write? Or the ease with which we have access to information?

I do not consider myself a "Bleeding Heart" Liberal but do tend to lean to the left on most issues with occasional wanderings over to the right for other issues. In other words, I choose. I choose based upon several factors that include, reading, and communicating with others. A process of critical thinking.

To have these basic privileges taken away is an abomination to the human spirit - a tactic of war.

Dr. Butler claims that, "Americans don't think. They have no empathy, Which I find very disturbing. What is the most important child? Is it an American child? We lost, Americans killed in Vietnam, 58,000 and change. And they lost somewhere between 2 and 3 million people in that war".

I've been working on my MA in Special Education through the University of Phoenix Online. As part of the requirements I have spent the past couple years in a middle school setting often sitting in regular education classes assisting students with special needs. I have also compared observations with classmates across the country. We've noted a problem.

Americans are no longer being taught to think.

American schools are not geared toward teaching any type of thinking beyond rote memorization and the skills required to take the exit exam. Students today are especially not taught critical thinking. Sure there are exceptions and many teachers do make an effort to include teaching critical thinking however ,the focus of sanctioned curriculum is narrowly geared toward passing an exit exam.

Dr. Butler is right, Americans don't think.

We, as a community, have all these freedoms and privileges and access to books, Internet, and other sources of information and we choose to not think!

This next generation will not even have the skills to think regardless of their access to advanced tools and data. As a community of Americans we need to ponder the implications of a generation lacking the ability to think critically.

Write Here!

Surely there is an inner god or goddess in us all who deserves the luxuries this world has to offer.

Irene and her daughter, Kasmira and I took a tour of this central coast castle's gardens and may I just say, Wow! Oh how we wanted to loose ourselves from the group and play among the grounds, take a dip in the pool, and luxuriate in the spender. Sigh.

Blooms were everywhere, flowers and color supported by statues, and garden structures unavailable to most mortals. Butterflies drifted and flitted in the sun and there was a Kodak opportunity at every rove of the eye.

We took as many pictures as we possibly could and practiced the art of pre-writing under the limited time we had. Fortunately there are many pictures to jog our memories, and research tools available on the web or in books to further assist us in our writing.

The point? Get outside of your normal routines and jostle your muse of course!

She Came, We Saw, We laughed and Loved

How much fun can be packed into a two week vacation with my daughter?

Posting to this blog was all but stopped so that I could spend as much time as possible with my daughter... "Stop, in the name of Love..."

Kasmira lives in Georgia so we had a lot to catch up on. We wanted to fit as much as possible into her visit so we were constantly going, doing, eating, laughing and loving.

Here are Kasmira, Red and their brother Mick (yes, Mick's a dog)outside of the Bagel Bakery in Pacific Grove California, home to their grandparents.

PG is a fun little town along the central Coast but tends to be a bit foggy. It is also very cold in the summer months especially to visitors from the South East.

Kasmira went from temperatures in the 90s to the mid 50s in a few short hours.

Carmel Beach is one of our favorite places. The white beach and dog friendly locals make this a must place to visit.

Kasmira wasted no time at all house hunting.

She chose this home adjacent to Pebble Beach with access to the Carmel Beach on private steps. She clearly understands the 3 most important aspects to real estate; location, location, location.

Her second choice wasn't shabby either, The former newspaper tycoon's castle on the Central Coast in San Simeon wasn't available though. It is now an historical monument and state park.

Umm, tough call to make... so many houses available in Carmel along the beach... if she does get the one next to Pebble Beach, she may just have to take up golf.

The locals are friendly in either location although down in San Simeon they tend to hog the beach. These huge elephant seals are amazing beasts to observe. A word of caution - stay upwind and do not walk among them on the beach.
We got in a lot of shopping. The amazing thing is that we were not thrown out of any shops, including this Macy's at Del Monte Shopping Center in Monterey California. Here is Lacy, my Mom, posing with some of her "friends".

She particularly liked the colored hair and the flash-back fashions that still make even mannequins look pregnant. What are designers thinking?

We drove the coast highway from San Simeon into Carmel and the Monterey peninsula. Words can't do justice to this incredible journey. We stopped several times for pictures.

The Bixby Bridge has been featured in several movies over the years and is one of our usual stops. No matter how many times we stop there is a magic and newness that still leave us in awe.

The recent fires that raged through this area didn't seem to harm the view along the highway although they did burn a lot of the Los Padres area.

The last weekend we had a rendezvous in Santa Barbara for a mini family reunion. We ate and played and only slept when we absolutely needed to. Balderdash was our nightly game of choice and we had plenty of laughs and interruptions for leftovers and passing hugs.

Beaching with the family during the warm sunny days was a natural choice. The cousins went swimming in the waters, played paddle ball, and just sat and visited.

Kasmira and I walked up the beach and got a stranger to take our picture. I can't spend enough time with her. The clock has been racing from the day she was born and she is headed at warp speed to her future at Embry Riddle and the Air Force.

I know it is cliche, but why must they grow up so fast? And why do they do this during the years we are busy scrambling to make a life for us all? The best I can do is snap some pictures and hold the memories close.

We got a new family picture taken. My brother's backyard patio is perfect for this type of thing. Red and Mick especially do better with these informal photo sessions. That's not to say that they can't be a challenge but as the years go by they get better. Sadly there was one family group missing, my sister who now lives in Colorado. Missed you Ro and family.

We went to the water park with friends several times while Kasmira was visiting. She's been instrumental in teaching our friend here how to flirt (not that much instruction was needed).

I put my baby girl on the airplane and sent her home to her dad on Monday.

I was mostly able to keep my smile up while she was here but the last few days were a challenge. I spent close to 15 minutes sobbing as her plane took off and had to rinse my contacts before starting the drive back home.

I tend to have random cries for a fw days after she leaves and periodically thereafter. Red understands this now and offers many hugs to help me through.

I am so blessed to have such a beautiful, intelligent and sensitive daughter. I love you my dear and wish you such happiness and success in your new adventure in college. May you be blessed with friends and challenges that serve you well. Always.