We moved about a ton of dirt that has been sitting in our yard around the pond forms that will soon be the pond. This is the place that was going to be a pond, and then a pool and now its going to be a pond again. Reason: my argument won out...looking out onto bleak open pool during Nov/Dec isn't my idea of a pleasant view.
But, the pool is still in discussion and the new site will be much better...in fact, I think it will work out great to have a small cottage near it for changing, bathrooms etc...keeping wet feet out of the main house.
Nathan and Dan did a lot of the heavy lifting on this, while I served as more the "site coordinator". That kind of work is really hard on me...Dan tells me to dig the "right way", not with my back but with my knees..but I can't seem to do it..so it is harder for me.
I took some pics of the pond area and will post later as we near completion. Right now the objective is to get the dirt moved around the forms and start a design for planting...trees/shrubs right now...more perennials, etc. later. This pond will also feature a "spitter" and a fountain and a bridge. I'd also like to get lights.
I'm not sure about fish. If we do fish, it'll be goldfish that can get huge when in larger pond areas. The pond is actually two ponds with a connecting bridge to make it "look" like one large pond. The total gallons --- about 400 I think. This will make total number of water features in our garden to 4...and I'm sure there will be more.
The exterior plantings with color, in front of the pergola will be really attractive. Lots to do.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Anniversary
I purposefully do not include posts on this blog that relate directly to what I do in my sales career. However, an important milestone has just passed and one that I must note. I am doing that today.
About one year ago, I made some somewhat radical changes in the way that I approached my business. I had been sensing that some changes were needing to be made and had floundered in what exactly it was I needed to change. The first change that always needs to be made is that the leader must discern what needs changing and that change, almost always, is the leader. That is, me.
The only thing more difficult to deal with than failure is success. Success brings its own baggage, its own terrain that one must learn to deal. In fact I think most of us are quite content with failure...its the success that can kill you.
I am coming to understand that healthy, balanced successful people must want what they already hold. Arriving at some destination, regardless of the perks, will not make one more happy, more fun or more of anything. So learning to be comfy in one's own skin is a lifelong, and often difficult, thing to "accomplish".
So about a year ago, I gave up...I gave up a lot of the mundane things that had come to occupy my time, the details that an INTJ can really get into. I began to delegate a lot of that to some associates that were more gifted in some areas than I. I gave careful attention to the things in my life that mattered to my business -- my own personal work -- and started mastering those. Simple things that we all know are important -- customer service, caring about clients, that sort of thing. These are the things that really matter when you own a business and without them you just standing at the till, counting money. These are the things that give heart to the meaning of work.
I began chopping up my day...working with intensity for some of it but taking a lot of time for personal care (gardening! writing! envisioning!) and for the people in my life that really matter -- my kids, my husband.
So, today as I pass this one year mark its important to note..
a - I'm every bit as successful -- and I would say MORE SO, than I was before.
b - I'm more connected to the things that matter in my life..God, my family, the friends that are truly FRIENDS, people that care about me and my own.
c - I have new found passion for what I do...yes, the simple, sacred things that make owning a business truly fulfilling.
Some who work with me have noticed and commented on the change. I'm glad for that, but it's not really the point. The point is...there is no point. There is only God and people and the work that he gives each of us to do, no matter how small, no matter how big. I have rediscovered what it is like to just sit and talk to people, worrying less about a big sale than about hearing a soul.
I think this is a journey that many visionary leaders must travel. It's hard giving up what we think is control, when what we really have are distractions that mask the view of what is so important in this life. I now enjoy the people in which I work more, I have greater energy, I have more "ah-ha" moments.
And I kinda like that. Here's a rundown of what I consciously did to work through a major - mid-life burnout:
a - asked myself "what jazzes me? what drains me?"
b - asked myself what i believed I was really "good" at. And of course, which is so easy for INTJ my long, long list of things that I am not so great at..that was there, too, but I was able to start seeing it differently. I started building on my strengths and while I am a firm believer that we all must grow and become more flexible (after all the INTJ'S mantra is "IMPROVE!!" ), I have to understand that I may never be as good as some things that are are so gifted. So let them do their work! It's why God gave us all different abilities. I realized that I was both hindering myself...and hindering others...by trying to do it all.
c - accepted the past and all its mistakes, honoring what it gave me and what it took. I looked at it squarely in the face and said, "OK, you've had your time...and I'm thankful for that. We've had some good times..but I'm moving in a new place and you need to stay here. " I learned, simply, that I can learn from the past but I cannot live there.
c - connected with the people that wanted something from what I had to give
d - connected with those in my life -- my family, kids, etc. -- that I must nurture and that nurture me.
From time to time, I find myself in a situation where some of the old situations are still a part. I know that for my company, my industry -- like so many in business after 9/11, internet boom, we are still trying to figure out how to "do" business. We are still learning. We have a lot to learn. But one thing is for sure...we have to move forward by giving honor to the past and those that lived it. We must appreciate them and what they gave us. And we must find ways to do that that honor their contributions while being free to move on to new places.
Next week, I travel to Mexico where I will re-visit some of the places -- the beach, etc., where I made a lot of these decisions. And it will be a happy remembering.
About one year ago, I made some somewhat radical changes in the way that I approached my business. I had been sensing that some changes were needing to be made and had floundered in what exactly it was I needed to change. The first change that always needs to be made is that the leader must discern what needs changing and that change, almost always, is the leader. That is, me.
The only thing more difficult to deal with than failure is success. Success brings its own baggage, its own terrain that one must learn to deal. In fact I think most of us are quite content with failure...its the success that can kill you.
I am coming to understand that healthy, balanced successful people must want what they already hold. Arriving at some destination, regardless of the perks, will not make one more happy, more fun or more of anything. So learning to be comfy in one's own skin is a lifelong, and often difficult, thing to "accomplish".
So about a year ago, I gave up...I gave up a lot of the mundane things that had come to occupy my time, the details that an INTJ can really get into. I began to delegate a lot of that to some associates that were more gifted in some areas than I. I gave careful attention to the things in my life that mattered to my business -- my own personal work -- and started mastering those. Simple things that we all know are important -- customer service, caring about clients, that sort of thing. These are the things that really matter when you own a business and without them you just standing at the till, counting money. These are the things that give heart to the meaning of work.
I began chopping up my day...working with intensity for some of it but taking a lot of time for personal care (gardening! writing! envisioning!) and for the people in my life that really matter -- my kids, my husband.
So, today as I pass this one year mark its important to note..
a - I'm every bit as successful -- and I would say MORE SO, than I was before.
b - I'm more connected to the things that matter in my life..God, my family, the friends that are truly FRIENDS, people that care about me and my own.
c - I have new found passion for what I do...yes, the simple, sacred things that make owning a business truly fulfilling.
Some who work with me have noticed and commented on the change. I'm glad for that, but it's not really the point. The point is...there is no point. There is only God and people and the work that he gives each of us to do, no matter how small, no matter how big. I have rediscovered what it is like to just sit and talk to people, worrying less about a big sale than about hearing a soul.
I think this is a journey that many visionary leaders must travel. It's hard giving up what we think is control, when what we really have are distractions that mask the view of what is so important in this life. I now enjoy the people in which I work more, I have greater energy, I have more "ah-ha" moments.
And I kinda like that. Here's a rundown of what I consciously did to work through a major - mid-life burnout:
a - asked myself "what jazzes me? what drains me?"
b - asked myself what i believed I was really "good" at. And of course, which is so easy for INTJ my long, long list of things that I am not so great at..that was there, too, but I was able to start seeing it differently. I started building on my strengths and while I am a firm believer that we all must grow and become more flexible (after all the INTJ'S mantra is "IMPROVE!!" ), I have to understand that I may never be as good as some things that are are so gifted. So let them do their work! It's why God gave us all different abilities. I realized that I was both hindering myself...and hindering others...by trying to do it all.
c - accepted the past and all its mistakes, honoring what it gave me and what it took. I looked at it squarely in the face and said, "OK, you've had your time...and I'm thankful for that. We've had some good times..but I'm moving in a new place and you need to stay here. " I learned, simply, that I can learn from the past but I cannot live there.
c - connected with the people that wanted something from what I had to give
d - connected with those in my life -- my family, kids, etc. -- that I must nurture and that nurture me.
From time to time, I find myself in a situation where some of the old situations are still a part. I know that for my company, my industry -- like so many in business after 9/11, internet boom, we are still trying to figure out how to "do" business. We are still learning. We have a lot to learn. But one thing is for sure...we have to move forward by giving honor to the past and those that lived it. We must appreciate them and what they gave us. And we must find ways to do that that honor their contributions while being free to move on to new places.
Next week, I travel to Mexico where I will re-visit some of the places -- the beach, etc., where I made a lot of these decisions. And it will be a happy remembering.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Untitled
His eyes are red, swollen. He looks at me and then down. "Is Dad home?" is all he will say.
I know already what has happened, but I follow him as he leads me to the car.
A smashed in bumper. A hood that is tented, dented. A girlfriend in tears. Books tossed around the back.
His first car wreck. Our first car wreck.
It is as inevitable as snow in winter, flowers in spring...a 16 year old with his license will, eventually, meet his first accident.
Today was his day.
I see his tears. I run to him, wanting to throw my arms around him, take him in. "I"m so glad you are OK." I say.
He pushes me back. He is, after all, 16 and his girlfriend IS watching. "I'm so stupid" he mumbles.
A million thoughts go through my head, a million pat answers flit through. Nothing is appropriate, nothing seems to fit. Only silence seems to be appropriate.
He's worried about his dad, about the money, about the insurance. He's worried about all the responsible things we've tried to instill in him.
But none of that matters. I see blood, broken arms, irreplaceable body parts strewn across the highway. I see what could have been. And I'm grateful he has come back to me.
I yearn to comfort him, let him know its OK. All I can say is, "you're OK! you're OK! you're OK!" Like a silly broken doll, I keep saying that, like I'm surprised.
His sobs are deeper now, he has let go. Girlfriend notwithstanding, he's broken up, shaking, tears running freely down his face. He opens his arms wide.
"Mom.." he says.
And I'm there, embracing him. "You're OK!" I say for the millioneth time. "We'll get through it. I don't care about the car...I care about YOU!"
And I realize my petty worries of my own life, the infinite times I've fumbled, stalled, run over, hit others...always worried about the responsible things when God says, "you're OK. We'll fix this..we'll work it through."
And I hug my son tightly.
I know already what has happened, but I follow him as he leads me to the car.
A smashed in bumper. A hood that is tented, dented. A girlfriend in tears. Books tossed around the back.
His first car wreck. Our first car wreck.
It is as inevitable as snow in winter, flowers in spring...a 16 year old with his license will, eventually, meet his first accident.
Today was his day.
I see his tears. I run to him, wanting to throw my arms around him, take him in. "I"m so glad you are OK." I say.
He pushes me back. He is, after all, 16 and his girlfriend IS watching. "I'm so stupid" he mumbles.
A million thoughts go through my head, a million pat answers flit through. Nothing is appropriate, nothing seems to fit. Only silence seems to be appropriate.
He's worried about his dad, about the money, about the insurance. He's worried about all the responsible things we've tried to instill in him.
But none of that matters. I see blood, broken arms, irreplaceable body parts strewn across the highway. I see what could have been. And I'm grateful he has come back to me.
I yearn to comfort him, let him know its OK. All I can say is, "you're OK! you're OK! you're OK!" Like a silly broken doll, I keep saying that, like I'm surprised.
His sobs are deeper now, he has let go. Girlfriend notwithstanding, he's broken up, shaking, tears running freely down his face. He opens his arms wide.
"Mom.." he says.
And I'm there, embracing him. "You're OK!" I say for the millioneth time. "We'll get through it. I don't care about the car...I care about YOU!"
And I realize my petty worries of my own life, the infinite times I've fumbled, stalled, run over, hit others...always worried about the responsible things when God says, "you're OK. We'll fix this..we'll work it through."
And I hug my son tightly.
Gardner's Journal
I'm knee deep in mud, the sun in shining and my arms are heavy from moving heavy chunks of dirt. I'm dirty, sloppy and blissfully happy.
There exists a deep scar in my back yard that I made when I was "brainstorming" about my garden a couple of years ago. I dug this big hole and then my kids said, "we should build a pool there!" I abandoned my idea of a gentle pond outside the back door and went to work trying to build a pool.
I never really wanted a pool there -- I didn't relish the idea of looking out the 9 months of the year and seeing a blank, open space. Even though a pond would be frozen, it could be beautiful and quiet...meditative in a sense.
Finally, this year, it became obvious that if we were going to build a pool it would be better to wait a few more weeks. And I became more committed to the idea of a pool being off a bit and perhaps hidden behind some rock walls, shrubbery.
The unformed, ugly presence in my yard is now being transformed into a beautiful pond.
It's a lot of work from ugly to understated. From mud to meditative. From gaping to graceful.
There's mud to be moved, rocks to be unearthed, scrabble to be cleared.
Not a job for the unitiated. I find myself sitting with damp early all around, cool mud seeping through my jeans, water sloshing in my boots. The earth is stubborn and hard and it doesn't want to move. I could tell it, "you're going to be so beautiful!" but it doesn't really care about that, I don't think. It's stuck in its state, frozen, unmoving.
And once again, I hear God's whispers to me. "You are unformed potential. Stubborn. Unmoving. Let me.."
There exists a deep scar in my back yard that I made when I was "brainstorming" about my garden a couple of years ago. I dug this big hole and then my kids said, "we should build a pool there!" I abandoned my idea of a gentle pond outside the back door and went to work trying to build a pool.
I never really wanted a pool there -- I didn't relish the idea of looking out the 9 months of the year and seeing a blank, open space. Even though a pond would be frozen, it could be beautiful and quiet...meditative in a sense.
Finally, this year, it became obvious that if we were going to build a pool it would be better to wait a few more weeks. And I became more committed to the idea of a pool being off a bit and perhaps hidden behind some rock walls, shrubbery.
The unformed, ugly presence in my yard is now being transformed into a beautiful pond.
It's a lot of work from ugly to understated. From mud to meditative. From gaping to graceful.
There's mud to be moved, rocks to be unearthed, scrabble to be cleared.
Not a job for the unitiated. I find myself sitting with damp early all around, cool mud seeping through my jeans, water sloshing in my boots. The earth is stubborn and hard and it doesn't want to move. I could tell it, "you're going to be so beautiful!" but it doesn't really care about that, I don't think. It's stuck in its state, frozen, unmoving.
And once again, I hear God's whispers to me. "You are unformed potential. Stubborn. Unmoving. Let me.."
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Cheers for Mrs. Prince Charming
I was watching a movie when I heard the news. Diana killed in a car wreck.
For my generation, this experience is much like that of our parents when they hard JFK had been shot. Most can tell you exactly where they were if they experienced either (or both).
Like so many, I admired Diana most for her fashion style. Being married just a few years after she was, I dreamed of having my own royal wedding.
But I am growing to appreciate the new Mrs. King. She is the royalty for the middle aged.
I appreciate that she can get all googly after finally getting to marry the love of her life, who looks a bit like an urn I have on my back porch with his ears jutting out. Who could love such an oaf? Who indeed.
And I think I can relate to her common sense fashion style, called "exciting as Yorkshire pudding" by the british press.
You wont' see her in jeans that ride down her back. And you probably won't see a lot of her tummy with Britney-Spears type peek-a-boo halter tops.
She is a middle-aged woman's dream...finding love after years of being the ugly duckling. Getting her man on a great mind and wit rather than on legs and boobs. Leaving the shopping to the divas, you'll see her out in her yard or with her horses, maybe because these are the things that really matter at the end of any day, whether one is royalty or not.
She's the kind of gal that you'd have a cup of tea with and wouldn't be concerned if you had spinach from the quiche hanging out. She's the kind of gal that if your pantyhose ran, she may or may not tell you, because your feelings might be more important than the fashion papparazzi. And you can tell she could swap great books and gardening ideas with you.
Nope, she's no Diana. No designer dresses, no fits, no tantrums. She's a real woman who can handle the life -- royal or no -- that is thrown at her with her own sense of dignity and charm.
The middle aged royalty that everyone eventually learns to appreciate over the shallow fashion plate kind.
For my generation, this experience is much like that of our parents when they hard JFK had been shot. Most can tell you exactly where they were if they experienced either (or both).
Like so many, I admired Diana most for her fashion style. Being married just a few years after she was, I dreamed of having my own royal wedding.
But I am growing to appreciate the new Mrs. King. She is the royalty for the middle aged.
I appreciate that she can get all googly after finally getting to marry the love of her life, who looks a bit like an urn I have on my back porch with his ears jutting out. Who could love such an oaf? Who indeed.
And I think I can relate to her common sense fashion style, called "exciting as Yorkshire pudding" by the british press.
You wont' see her in jeans that ride down her back. And you probably won't see a lot of her tummy with Britney-Spears type peek-a-boo halter tops.
She is a middle-aged woman's dream...finding love after years of being the ugly duckling. Getting her man on a great mind and wit rather than on legs and boobs. Leaving the shopping to the divas, you'll see her out in her yard or with her horses, maybe because these are the things that really matter at the end of any day, whether one is royalty or not.
She's the kind of gal that you'd have a cup of tea with and wouldn't be concerned if you had spinach from the quiche hanging out. She's the kind of gal that if your pantyhose ran, she may or may not tell you, because your feelings might be more important than the fashion papparazzi. And you can tell she could swap great books and gardening ideas with you.
Nope, she's no Diana. No designer dresses, no fits, no tantrums. She's a real woman who can handle the life -- royal or no -- that is thrown at her with her own sense of dignity and charm.
The middle aged royalty that everyone eventually learns to appreciate over the shallow fashion plate kind.
Collective Poem
From...www.jordansmuse.blogspot.com
A new book meme circulating around the sphere is going by the name “123.5,” and its rules are these:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.
Here's Myfanwy's: "Symmetrical toes, asymmetrical pads."
from: the section on Merriam's Shrew (Sorex merriami) in Mammal Tracks & Sign--A Guide to North American Species by Mark Elbroch.
Next from jordansmuse: "broad and so plump that the knuckles were dimpled. The wooden"
From: "The Collected Novels of Jean Rhys." That line is from Quartet.
Here's mine:
"The room smells too, the air is close,.."
This is from, "The Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood.
Here it is so far:
Symmetrical toes, asymmetrical pads,
broad and so plump the knuckles were dimpled.
A new book meme circulating around the sphere is going by the name “123.5,” and its rules are these:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.
Here's Myfanwy's: "Symmetrical toes, asymmetrical pads."
from: the section on Merriam's Shrew (Sorex merriami) in Mammal Tracks & Sign--A Guide to North American Species by Mark Elbroch.
Next from jordansmuse: "broad and so plump that the knuckles were dimpled. The wooden"
From: "The Collected Novels of Jean Rhys." That line is from Quartet.
Here's mine:
"The room smells too, the air is close,.."
This is from, "The Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood.
Here it is so far:
Symmetrical toes, asymmetrical pads,
broad and so plump the knuckles were dimpled.
The wooden
room smells, too, the air is close...
The Village Idiot Reports
AP WIRE NEWS.
T-Town, USA. Officials continue their investigation into the claims of what is commonly referred to as the "emerging" village. These claims, which many have found to be grossly exaggerated, have been the source of conflict for many.
"We don't know why they call themselves 'emerging' because they are neither emerging nor evolving." says one investigator.
Indeed, the claims of this village which include being inclusive and reaching out to all kinds of villagers seems to fall short of its goal. "It's generally a movement for men under 35. Anyone else will find themselves not welcome." investigators report.
"Those most welcome in the movement appear to be wealthy, young men, under the age of 35. " said one study official in comments earlier this week.
Many feel that the ways and means of this movement are suspicious if not deceptive. "The definition of communism is that there is no God and that the leader IS the God. This seems to be true of this movement" investigators revealed in their latest study.
"We saw many of the same type groups emerge during the cultural wars of the '60's. Their mantra was to trust no one over the age of 30 and many of those who participated were from families with deep pockets. Those participants ridiculed the very heritage of which they were a part and of which they drew benefit." the study stressed.
More details are expected as the study continues its investigation.
Although not conclusive in it scope, the study does show some severe weaknesses in the structure of the movement. More is expected to be revealed as the study continues.
T-Town, USA. Officials continue their investigation into the claims of what is commonly referred to as the "emerging" village. These claims, which many have found to be grossly exaggerated, have been the source of conflict for many.
"We don't know why they call themselves 'emerging' because they are neither emerging nor evolving." says one investigator.
Indeed, the claims of this village which include being inclusive and reaching out to all kinds of villagers seems to fall short of its goal. "It's generally a movement for men under 35. Anyone else will find themselves not welcome." investigators report.
"Those most welcome in the movement appear to be wealthy, young men, under the age of 35. " said one study official in comments earlier this week.
Many feel that the ways and means of this movement are suspicious if not deceptive. "The definition of communism is that there is no God and that the leader IS the God. This seems to be true of this movement" investigators revealed in their latest study.
"We saw many of the same type groups emerge during the cultural wars of the '60's. Their mantra was to trust no one over the age of 30 and many of those who participated were from families with deep pockets. Those participants ridiculed the very heritage of which they were a part and of which they drew benefit." the study stressed.
More details are expected as the study continues its investigation.
Although not conclusive in it scope, the study does show some severe weaknesses in the structure of the movement. More is expected to be revealed as the study continues.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
My annual date with a terrorist
I'm kidding, I don't date terrorist. But I do visit my doctor once a year for a wonderful party I like to call "Invasive Doctors and their perverse questions".
I arrive at the office, 20 minutes late. I called ahead, but still I get the menacing secretary who lets me know -- both by body language and tone of her voice that I've upset the precarious balance of the doctor's schedule.
Never mind that in the past I've waited 35, 45 minutes to an hour in his germ filled waiting room along with every flu bug in town. Never mind that I pay all my bills on time...the deal is the DOCTOR WON'T BE LEFT WAITING.
So I appease the secretary with signing every single form she hands me and I smile and try to act like her actions are not abusive or threatening. I don't do very well at this.
Then, I get to wait -- yes wait -- another 20 minutes. I could have been waiting in my car...but no, that would upset the doctors system. So I wait, thumbing through half torn, out of date magazines. I think I see the secretary still throwing me dirty looks.
They call my name. Here we go, the party is just starting.
First, I get to weigh in. And, even better, the nurse lets me know that yes, it's true, I've actually gained 5 more pounds since this time last year. What a sweetheart! Really thoughtful of her to shout that out to the entire waiting room and office staff.
Next, I get to go down the hall to another room and guess what? Wait some more. At least this time I can't see the receptionists dirty looks and there are newer magazines in here to review. I pick up some arrested adolescent male version of a fashion magazine. Honestly, I never see guys that look like that. And I don't know any woman that want to look like their counterparts.
But no worries, the doctor is now here. Here in person. The man. His schedule successfully disrupted by my 20 minute fiesta, he is rather in a upbeat spirits.
He starts his list of questions....when is your last (never mind). When was your last exam? Do you notice any (can't list what he says here)...and so on and so on. Every crevice, every hidden part of me is out there, exposed. I sit shaking under a thin cotton "robe" and the exam begins.
I have often thought of ways that I could get a little smile from my doctor...just something to really shake up his days. Maybe a tatoo on my thigh? Maybe something more than a picture, maybe a phrase like "Dr. so and so " was here..with a date...and some crossbones or something like that.
Instead I look at the ceiling and continue answering his questions. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is personal.
Then, joy of joys, the exam is completed and get to get dressed. Just like a bad one night stand, he leaves the room and I'm left cold, shuddering but evidently healthy. Good enough for another year when the party continues.
I arrive at the office, 20 minutes late. I called ahead, but still I get the menacing secretary who lets me know -- both by body language and tone of her voice that I've upset the precarious balance of the doctor's schedule.
Never mind that in the past I've waited 35, 45 minutes to an hour in his germ filled waiting room along with every flu bug in town. Never mind that I pay all my bills on time...the deal is the DOCTOR WON'T BE LEFT WAITING.
So I appease the secretary with signing every single form she hands me and I smile and try to act like her actions are not abusive or threatening. I don't do very well at this.
Then, I get to wait -- yes wait -- another 20 minutes. I could have been waiting in my car...but no, that would upset the doctors system. So I wait, thumbing through half torn, out of date magazines. I think I see the secretary still throwing me dirty looks.
They call my name. Here we go, the party is just starting.
First, I get to weigh in. And, even better, the nurse lets me know that yes, it's true, I've actually gained 5 more pounds since this time last year. What a sweetheart! Really thoughtful of her to shout that out to the entire waiting room and office staff.
Next, I get to go down the hall to another room and guess what? Wait some more. At least this time I can't see the receptionists dirty looks and there are newer magazines in here to review. I pick up some arrested adolescent male version of a fashion magazine. Honestly, I never see guys that look like that. And I don't know any woman that want to look like their counterparts.
But no worries, the doctor is now here. Here in person. The man. His schedule successfully disrupted by my 20 minute fiesta, he is rather in a upbeat spirits.
He starts his list of questions....when is your last (never mind). When was your last exam? Do you notice any (can't list what he says here)...and so on and so on. Every crevice, every hidden part of me is out there, exposed. I sit shaking under a thin cotton "robe" and the exam begins.
I have often thought of ways that I could get a little smile from my doctor...just something to really shake up his days. Maybe a tatoo on my thigh? Maybe something more than a picture, maybe a phrase like "Dr. so and so " was here..with a date...and some crossbones or something like that.
Instead I look at the ceiling and continue answering his questions. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is personal.
Then, joy of joys, the exam is completed and get to get dressed. Just like a bad one night stand, he leaves the room and I'm left cold, shuddering but evidently healthy. Good enough for another year when the party continues.
Gardner's Journal: Garden Makeover
I will post pics later (above) of garden makeover that Dan and I did.
As with most makeovers, there is a story here. This is the stuff of reality shows.
See Dan with his level. See Dan with his string.
See Maurie standing by the garden. See Maurie tapping her foot. See Maurie tap her foot some more.
See Dan with his tape measure.
See Maurie tap her foot.
See Dan with his level AND his tape measure.
See Maurie go to the back yard and dig. Really fast and hard.
See Dan not notice that Maurie has gone.
See Dan and Maurie stay married and no one gets hurt.
As with most makeovers, there is a story here. This is the stuff of reality shows.
See Dan with his level. See Dan with his string.
See Maurie standing by the garden. See Maurie tapping her foot. See Maurie tap her foot some more.
See Dan with his tape measure.
See Maurie tap her foot.
See Dan with his level AND his tape measure.
See Maurie go to the back yard and dig. Really fast and hard.
See Dan not notice that Maurie has gone.
See Dan and Maurie stay married and no one gets hurt.
Monday, April 04, 2005
"Gilead" earns Pulitzer Prize
I am pleased to learn that a book that I truly loved, "Gilead" by Marilyn Robinson has earned the Pulitzer Prize. It's a great book with deep messages that I am still enjoying thinking about.
I also learned today that Ted Kooser has been named "US Poet Laureate". I love his poems and I appreciate his approach...he wrote many of his poems on postcards to a friend. When asked by literary types why he used this "media" he simply responded, "because they were cheaper than mailing a letter".
Gotta love a guy like that.
I also learned today that Ted Kooser has been named "US Poet Laureate". I love his poems and I appreciate his approach...he wrote many of his poems on postcards to a friend. When asked by literary types why he used this "media" he simply responded, "because they were cheaper than mailing a letter".
Gotta love a guy like that.
Gardner's Journal
I completed planting for spring this morning. But I yearn to do more...I planted a redbud tree and now, of course, I can see about 3 other spots that could use a redbud, so maybe I'll plant a few more..and then I'm finished..I really am!
One thing I've been considering lately is the spiritual power that a garden can have. Is it any coincidence that some of the most important intersections with God and people happen in a garden? I am beginning to see new significance in those occasions where God decides to intersect the human world...it appears that it often begins in a garden.
So, then I think...why aren't there more gardens built? What would happen if, instead of building a church in the middle of a part of a city, why don't we build a garden instead? I can see how the power of people sharing their faith alongside the work that is essential in a garden could be a powerful thing. I could see a real extension of God coming alive there.
I see vast opportunities for this and am enjoying thinking of some of the ideas that could come from it.
One thing I've been considering lately is the spiritual power that a garden can have. Is it any coincidence that some of the most important intersections with God and people happen in a garden? I am beginning to see new significance in those occasions where God decides to intersect the human world...it appears that it often begins in a garden.
So, then I think...why aren't there more gardens built? What would happen if, instead of building a church in the middle of a part of a city, why don't we build a garden instead? I can see how the power of people sharing their faith alongside the work that is essential in a garden could be a powerful thing. I could see a real extension of God coming alive there.
I see vast opportunities for this and am enjoying thinking of some of the ideas that could come from it.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
"Upside of Anger" Movie Review
About halfway through this film (http://www.upsideofanger.com/) I was ready to chuck the popcorn and go find a book to read. In spite of great actors, the first half of the film seemed to really drag.
But the great one-liners by writer/director Mike Binder (who also stars in the film as "Shep", one of the best characters in the entire film) kept me in my seat.
The ending packs a whollop. Viewers will almost feel set up, as if the first half of the movie was to lull audiences into a movie-coma so by the time the movie wraps up, the audience is sitting there, as I was, speechless. The only time I felt this taken for a ride was in the movie "A Beautiful Mind". The way that Binder plays with the characters point of view is masterful and can only call into question exactly what is intended----anger and its damages to relationships with oneself and with others.
This is a movie that is a great discussion catalyst. See it with your husband, your best friend...just see it.
But the great one-liners by writer/director Mike Binder (who also stars in the film as "Shep", one of the best characters in the entire film) kept me in my seat.
The ending packs a whollop. Viewers will almost feel set up, as if the first half of the movie was to lull audiences into a movie-coma so by the time the movie wraps up, the audience is sitting there, as I was, speechless. The only time I felt this taken for a ride was in the movie "A Beautiful Mind". The way that Binder plays with the characters point of view is masterful and can only call into question exactly what is intended----anger and its damages to relationships with oneself and with others.
This is a movie that is a great discussion catalyst. See it with your husband, your best friend...just see it.
Why I am not a health professional
Saturday evening, Dan and I are watching Nathan play soccer. Only we're watching from the warm cab of the pickup, while all the other parents are huddled under blankets, sitting in the cool spring air. I feel as if I'm getting away with something. Why do I feel like I'm cheating?
Last play of the game, we see Nathan go down, hard onto the field, along with another boy on his team.
"Is Nathan hurt?" I immediately ask.
"Nope...that's his teammate" Dan says.
A few seconds later, Dan's cell phone rings. It's the team's trainer. "You may want to take Nathan to the hospital for some stitches." she recommends.
This is the point where I realize, again, God's wisdom in giving a kid two parents. Call me in whenever you have a fashion crisis. Wanna talk about your boyfriend/girlfriend? Here's my card. Need ideas for your English paper or maybe some poety expressions for your project due next week? That's my area.
Just don't give me blood.
Nathan is composed. Heck, it's almost a rite of passage with soccer guys. Whomever thinks that soccer is not a contact sport has evidently not watched teenag boys scrabble. He slowly walks to us and I'm already feeling squemish. Just the mention of blood and I'm ready to lie down. Mention blood in the same sentence with one of my kids names...I'm ready to hurl.
He turns and I get my first full look-see into the cavity just above his upper lip. A bright red hole just under his nose, dripping blood onto his soccer shirt. I'm thinking, singsong in my head "Mamma gets whites, white like the sunshine..." The soccer field begins turning. Or is it me that is turning?
Dan goes into full throttle parent-alert. He grabs Nathan, pulls a rag out of someplace and before I can hit the pavement, we're on our way to the emergency room. Dan driving, Nathan in the middle, me near the window..need I explain why?
I can't help but want to look. My first born is bleeding! There is blood all over the rag and my eyes are drawn to it..I cannot look away, although I'm grimacing and starting to heave.
"Dad, just take mom home, she's totally useless." Nathan says. He means well, he really does. The problem is, he's absolutely right. I can sit at home and man the phones...put out an all points alert, watch Saturday Night Live...ANYTHING but sit and watch my kid get sewn up.
Several hours...and seven stitches later...they return home. I'm crashed, having exhausted myself in "Mother Worry Mode". Nathan finds me on the couch.
"Hey Mom...I got stitches" he reports. I think there is a sense of pride in this statement. I'm sure the story will get lots of press in the upcoming days. He and his buddies around the lunch table, Nathan saying, "I was going down the field and then..."
"Yeah, I know" I say. "Tough game".
"You going to be OK?" he asks.
"Yeah" I say. "You?"
"Well, it's gonna make some things harder." he says.
"Yep. Guess you won't be playing in the band concert this week. And you'll probably miss tomorrow's game."
He looks a bit sheepish. Then I get it.
Girlfriend.
Swollen Lips.
This time its my heart, not my stomach, that does flip flops.
Last play of the game, we see Nathan go down, hard onto the field, along with another boy on his team.
"Is Nathan hurt?" I immediately ask.
"Nope...that's his teammate" Dan says.
A few seconds later, Dan's cell phone rings. It's the team's trainer. "You may want to take Nathan to the hospital for some stitches." she recommends.
This is the point where I realize, again, God's wisdom in giving a kid two parents. Call me in whenever you have a fashion crisis. Wanna talk about your boyfriend/girlfriend? Here's my card. Need ideas for your English paper or maybe some poety expressions for your project due next week? That's my area.
Just don't give me blood.
Nathan is composed. Heck, it's almost a rite of passage with soccer guys. Whomever thinks that soccer is not a contact sport has evidently not watched teenag boys scrabble. He slowly walks to us and I'm already feeling squemish. Just the mention of blood and I'm ready to lie down. Mention blood in the same sentence with one of my kids names...I'm ready to hurl.
He turns and I get my first full look-see into the cavity just above his upper lip. A bright red hole just under his nose, dripping blood onto his soccer shirt. I'm thinking, singsong in my head "Mamma gets whites, white like the sunshine..." The soccer field begins turning. Or is it me that is turning?
Dan goes into full throttle parent-alert. He grabs Nathan, pulls a rag out of someplace and before I can hit the pavement, we're on our way to the emergency room. Dan driving, Nathan in the middle, me near the window..need I explain why?
I can't help but want to look. My first born is bleeding! There is blood all over the rag and my eyes are drawn to it..I cannot look away, although I'm grimacing and starting to heave.
"Dad, just take mom home, she's totally useless." Nathan says. He means well, he really does. The problem is, he's absolutely right. I can sit at home and man the phones...put out an all points alert, watch Saturday Night Live...ANYTHING but sit and watch my kid get sewn up.
Several hours...and seven stitches later...they return home. I'm crashed, having exhausted myself in "Mother Worry Mode". Nathan finds me on the couch.
"Hey Mom...I got stitches" he reports. I think there is a sense of pride in this statement. I'm sure the story will get lots of press in the upcoming days. He and his buddies around the lunch table, Nathan saying, "I was going down the field and then..."
"Yeah, I know" I say. "Tough game".
"You going to be OK?" he asks.
"Yeah" I say. "You?"
"Well, it's gonna make some things harder." he says.
"Yep. Guess you won't be playing in the band concert this week. And you'll probably miss tomorrow's game."
He looks a bit sheepish. Then I get it.
Girlfriend.
Swollen Lips.
This time its my heart, not my stomach, that does flip flops.
Riptide
I travel to Puerta Vallarta later this month. One of the most important things I want to do is to spend a day sailing. I didn't get to do this on my last trip.
Not only do I want to learn more about sailing but I want to learn more about those who sail and how they learn to navigate the water. I'm especially interested in learning more about "riptides".
Here are some characteristics of riptides:
"Riptides occur when two opposing currents meet; it is a natural collision of opposites. These currents create a swirling action that form channels. When a wave recedes, water rushes through that outgoing channel with great power and speed. If you love the ocean, you quickly learn that riptides are to be respected because they can drag even the strongest swimmer out past the breakers in a heartbeat. The natural impulse is to swim as hard as you can back toward the shore. But when you are caught in a riptide this the worse thing you can do. You cannot overpower this natural force. Even competent swimmers drown by trying to fight the force of moving water that is taking them out to sea.
Instead, a riptide demands surrender. If you simply float, taking care only to keep your head above water, the riptide will take you out about fifteen hundred feet or so, and only then can you begin to swim parallel to the shore and find your way back. We are used to being in control of our lives, but a riptide teaches that sometimes it is necessary to "go with the flow." Not knowing where you will end up and feeling helpless in the face of the power of forces that are much stronger than you are terrifying experiences. Surviving a riptide demands trust in your ability to keep your head above the water and trust in the natural force of the event to take you only so far away from shore." (From, "Awakening at Midlife" Kathleen A Brehony)
He or she who has ears to ear...
Not only do I want to learn more about sailing but I want to learn more about those who sail and how they learn to navigate the water. I'm especially interested in learning more about "riptides".
Here are some characteristics of riptides:
"Riptides occur when two opposing currents meet; it is a natural collision of opposites. These currents create a swirling action that form channels. When a wave recedes, water rushes through that outgoing channel with great power and speed. If you love the ocean, you quickly learn that riptides are to be respected because they can drag even the strongest swimmer out past the breakers in a heartbeat. The natural impulse is to swim as hard as you can back toward the shore. But when you are caught in a riptide this the worse thing you can do. You cannot overpower this natural force. Even competent swimmers drown by trying to fight the force of moving water that is taking them out to sea.
Instead, a riptide demands surrender. If you simply float, taking care only to keep your head above water, the riptide will take you out about fifteen hundred feet or so, and only then can you begin to swim parallel to the shore and find your way back. We are used to being in control of our lives, but a riptide teaches that sometimes it is necessary to "go with the flow." Not knowing where you will end up and feeling helpless in the face of the power of forces that are much stronger than you are terrifying experiences. Surviving a riptide demands trust in your ability to keep your head above the water and trust in the natural force of the event to take you only so far away from shore." (From, "Awakening at Midlife" Kathleen A Brehony)
He or she who has ears to ear...
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