Hello, Nasty

Frankenmommy

Life Keeps Rolling Along

Another family member has cancer. It's someone in OH's family, so I won't talk about it too much except to say it's a common form of skin cancer and it's located in their throat. It's not easily operable so they're going to undergo radiation just in time to feel crappy for Thanksgiving. The prognosis looks good for recovery because it was caught early, so that is some good news. We're all feeling unsettled because we don't know what to expect. That is the worst feeling, especially when there is so much at stake such as the life of someone you love.

It was my bio-dad's birthday this month, and I didn't call. I don't know what to say. I would like to talk to my grandma and my aunt, but then they would hand the phone to him and I don't know what I'd say. I feel like I should want to talk to him but he's never said he's sorry, so what's the point? What is there to say?

"Gee, it sucks you had a stroke, and now live with your 83-year old mother and your sister and they take care of you. I see we're still denying that thing you did to me. How's the weather?"

Whatever.

It was our first anniversary on the 15th, and we received cards from my grandma, bio-dad, and aunt and now I feel bad for not calling. I found out this week that grandma's sister just died. I couldn't make the funeral because OC is in school and the funeral was held in a town two hours away.

I should call.

I cut my thumb this week while trying to cut through a frozen English muffin for OC's breakfast. Another stupid household accident. Poor OC, she was worried about me. Luckily, another mom from OC's school came and took her to school so I could drive myself to the hospital. That was fun, holding my Stupid Household Accident Afflicted thumb above my head while driving and crying and trying not to think about the wound that I had the bad sense to look at so I could imagine that ugly, fleshy, gaping thing.

I still have sensation, so that was lucky. It took three stitches. OC is scared of the stitches. Every time she catches sight of them she covers her eyes and backs away. That is one way to ensure a househould accident: walk backwards with your eyes closed. (She gets her smarts from me. Poor thing!)

My mom got married this month. I forgot to send a card. What kind of person doesn't send a card when their mom gets married? I should say, I wanted to attend the ceremony but they planned it to be a small ceremony with no family and on a weekday, so if invited I would have brought the card with me. As it stands, I can blame the post office....except for just giving myself away. She reads my blog. Oops! Card's in the mail, mom!

It's a beautiful, sunny day today. The leaves are turning the most amazing colors with the sunny days and cold nights. It's gorgeous. OH is at a college football game. OC is in the bath. The neighbor's cat, Skippyjon, is on mole patrol in the front yard. I'm sitting here with a fresh bandage on my thumb in front of the woodstove with the heat on my back while I listen to OC sing and play in the tub. I have to sew some more on the halloween costumes. My niece's Ariel costume is nearly done, and I have to make the pants for OC's Jasmine outfit. That should go more quickly than the Ariel skirt which had ruffles and gathers.

Another day. I don't know what else to say.

Guests

Good morning. Damn, it's early.

Do you know what pairs well with a cup of freshly brewed coffee? Last night's brownies. Yum.

I've got this problem. Well, more like a dilemma. OC occasionally has friends over to play. Sometimes they are here for lunch. Here's what I want to know: how do you enforce the rules of your house to your children's friends? Does it change when they are five, versus when they are a bit older?

I'll give you an example. OC has a terrible time sitting still at the table to eat. It drives me batty, but also I want to instill good manners so I ask her to sit at the table and not get up until she's done unless she has to go to the bathroom. I'm all about instilling these things now, so that when she's older this is all normal, involuntary behavior. She had a friend over the other week who would not sit still. She kept popping up to go look at things, touching things with her sticky hands, and talkingtalkingtalkingtalkingtalking.

The talking part, not a big deal. The sticky hands and getting up? Drove me NUTS, but it's not a big deal, it can be cleaned up easily. I asked her to please sit down, which she did - for all of three seconds before she was up exploring again while OC sat in her chair. After lunch, I asked them to pick up the pieces of food that they dropped while I cleaned up their plates and the rest of the table.

The rest of the visit went like this: the friend had a million ideas for fun things to do, and asked me if they could do this thing, or no! This thing! And then can we do this? And this and this and this? And could I help? Could I do this for them? And then this and that and this? I was getting bossed around by a five year old. What the hell? I was frustrated by the barrage of questions and requests. At first I was coming up with good responses and redirections, but I quickly ran out of those and began saying "no" to the demands, and watched the clock for it to be time to send the girl home. I don't want it to be this way.

It's not that the rules are the important thing, what I'm trying to get at is that when kids come over there should be a modicum of politeness. I am glad to play with them, to set things up for them, but getting bossed around is not going to happen. It's not fair for OC sit still and then not say anything to the other child. Should I let it go for both of them when the other child is here? I don't want to be inconsistent. What message does that send OC? Should I just not worry about it for the short time the friend is here?

I am concerned about consistency, mainly, but also propriety. When you go to someone else's house to play, it's not an invitation to destroy their house or to take over. You have to figure out what is expected and then follow it, reasonably. This is what was expected of me as a child and I think it was reasonable. Everything I read and know about kids is that they thrive on consistency. Plus, at five years old, they are more likely to agreeably comply with my polite requests to sit still or whatever. I have no recourse if they don't listen, but it's for a short time out of one day.

Anyway, I was just wondering because I don't feel like being the Rule Lady all the time, I want to be fun, too. But I don't want it to be a madhouse in here or be told what to do by little kids. It's not like there are a lot of rules, just things like sit at the table until you are done, don't chase the cats, and wash your hands after you go to the bathroom. Oh, and keep your voice down in the house, please! *sigh*

I think it's a question of balance; I just need to figure out the right formula, and more responses to all the requests.

How do you handle it when your kids' friends come over to your house? I really do want to know.

Noticing

It began to rain this morning after I dropped OC at school. I drove the few blocks from her school to the old neighborhood on the north side of town near the college so I could go for a walk. My leg has been hurting, so I walk instead of run for now.

Before I could grab my umbrella and head out, a woman came by to tell me that the tree under which I was parked has a tendency to drop limbs randomly, so I might want to move my car up the block just enough to be out from under it. She called me "honey". Or maybe it was "sweetie". She wore a sweatshirt with an orange plaid pumpkin appliqued onto the front, with a button and ribbon for embellishment.

I headed out for my walk after moving the car. It was raining the kind of light rain that is enough to drench you in a few minutes. How can it rain like that? So lightly that it weighs as much as a teaspoon full of feathers, but with enough water to soak your clothes?

I love the rain. I don't mind getting a little wet in order that I be outside, smelling the fresh air that the rain brings. I love how it washes everything clean, enhances the colors of the trees, sidewalks and houses to their dark and sharp perfection.

The neighborhood near the college is old. It's full of houses in the style of Victorians, Saltboxes, or Craftsmen. I'm not an architecture expert, so I am guessing that is what they are, but I don't really know. I like them for their use of materials like wood and stone, and for the style and detail that went into them so one family could enjoy the house but the entire neighborhood could enjoy their beauty.

In this neighborhood, which is my favorite part of town, there is a bed and breakfast that has a sign proclaming "Acadamia, Vinifera, Camaraderie". I would like to stay in that bed and breakfast, for those three things appeal to me greatly.

As I walked I thought of my house. Specifically, the dining room and what color I'd like to paint the walls. We have a bay window in the dining room, and it needs to be framed properly by color and with new trim in order to be as beautiful as it can be.

I thought about what curtains should go in the bay window, and at first I wanted Roman shades but then decided that no, sumptuous fabric that drops to the floor would be the thing for a dining room. I still don't know what color, but I know it should be something warm.

Fall is full of color and change. The air carries a hint of preparation for things to come that has a different kind of energy than the kind of preparation that happens in the spring. Fall feels like a winding down, of time that should be spent getting comfortable and making your house cozy in order to ride out the coming cold, the starkness of winter.

I think I'll build a fire today.

That One Little Missing Piece of the Meaning of Life That I Forgot To Write About Yesterday

I need to expand on what I wrote yesterday just a little. This is a polite way to admit I totally left out and important part of the idea - whoopsie!

The idea of Not Taking More Than You Need relates to answering the question: What purpose does this serve?

When you ask yourself how much you really need of whatever it is at the time, it's useful to question why you need it. Think about that and ask, Does it serve my life? Or does it serve some other purpose that is not honorable, like ego or jealousy or having for the sake of having, or something else? Above all, how can I act with integrity?

The idea of purpose, always keeping in mind intention, is the guide for answering the question, How Much Is Enough.

Yesterday was library day. We ran into one of OC's schoolmates there, so I talked to her mom while she looked at books with her friend.

Interesting side note: later in the bathroom an older Spanish-speaking woman asked for help with her pants zipper, which was stuck in the up position and she needed to go. She did not speak English, but I understood her because (confession time) I am learning Spanish. Or, my husband and I are.

It's times like that when I am reminded of that childhood question, When am I ever going to use this??? I'll tell you when: at a public restroom where a woman for whom English is not her first (or any) language and she can't get her zipper undone. In other words, you never know.

Meanwhile, I'm still waiting for Geometry to be useful. End of sidenote.

To give you some idea of how deeply contemplative I am, these are the books I left the library with:

An Open Heart: Practicing Compassion in Everyday Life, by the Dalai Lama

Aristotle for Everybody: Difficult Thought Made Easy, by Mortimer J. Adler

Plan B: Thoughts on Faith, by Ann LaMott

This is in addition to the stack of books by my bedside, including Becoming Fearless, by Ariana Huffington and When the Heart Waits, by Sue Monk Kidd.

Cannot get enough, I'm telling you. When I read an author I know and like, I learn about new authors and it leads to new books to read. It's kind of like blogs that way, the interconnectedness of it all.

There is not enough time to read all the books I want to read right now.

What are you reading?

The Meaning of Life

The type of yoga that my instructor is teaching is called Raja yoga, which means royal or kingly. The focus of this practice is to bring the mind and body into harmony to allow your energy to flow freely and so that you may meditate. An extension of this practice allows for meditation with G-d (or deity or prophet).

This class doesn't focus on the meditative/spiritual part so much as yoga poses and thinking about how to bring the teachings of yoga into your life for better harmony overall. The spiritual side is left for the student to pursue individually. Today after class the instructor was talking to a couple of the students about what this means for the universe, and I found myself drawn to the conversation as though I were a moth to someone's porch light. I've been in a contemplative state of mind for a while now. I can't get enough of this.

Today's yama lesson was that of Not Taking More Than What You Need. The other lessons (non-violence, truthfulness, not stealing, appropriate sexuality) all teach that if you perform the lesson fully then you will receive its gifts. For example, if you achieve completely the lesson of not stealing, then you will be provided with riches.

It would follow, then, that if you don't take more than you need you will be provided with all that you need. Well, maybe, but that is not the point of this yama. The point is that if you take only what you need, then you will be shown your past and future lives. That may sound a little mystical to some of you; a little too "out there", or irrelevant. What it means, though, is that you will be shown your true purpose in life. You don't have to believe in reincarnation for you to understand that it is there to show you something.

Hello! Thank you, that's what I've been searching for: the meaning of life. More specifically, the meaning of MY life.

There are obvious benefits to taking only what you need: using less food means your body doesn't have to work so hard to digest it nor do you gain excess weight; buying fewer things means you have less stuff in your house to cause clutter and you have spent less money; creating less waste means there isn't as much garbage in the landfill, etc. When you drink some alcohol, you feel good. When you drink too much, you get sick. Moderation. (I haven't learned THAT particular lesson fully, yet, it seems.)

This yama raises the question, How much is enough? This pertains to more than just material goods, but also to the effort we put forth in our lives toward tasks, relationships, and just about anything you can think of. The answer is not the same for everyone. Nor is it the same for every situation.

At this point it's good to point out that in yoga, no one thing is more important than another thing. The way you get into a pose is just as important as the way you hold it, as the way you get out of it, as the way you breathe. It's more about the way you do things, than what you do. This is the essence of the spirituality behind yoga as well.

It's a hard concept to grasp, at least some of the more esoteric concepts are. When you think about it though it makes sense that it's our minds which place hierarchical importance to things. Not Life. Not G-d. Not the Universe. To the Universe, working is just as important as doing a crossword puzzle. To us, working is obviously more important. Both have value. It's a question of balance, and of intention. I so get that.

How much is enough? Good question.

The Good, the Bad, and the Letting Go of the Bad Thing

Finally Blogger has finally decided to allow me to post a new entry this morning. I feel so special. The message "waiting for blogger.com" has become almost as irritating to experience as "waiting for adfarm.mediaplex.com".

Last night, OH and I had another talk. We decided to quit fighting and letting this whole question about moving ruin times between us. I especially think this is a good idea since we haven't even been presented with an offer yet. Yes, we've been fighting for two months over an idea.

It's hard to let go because the question of where you will live in the near future is hard to ignore, but letting go feels good. I have let the weight of the decision slide off my shoulders and fall into a puddle on the floor. Then I walked away from it, I have other things to do. I don't want to be so upset all the time. It's making my skin break out and my stomach churn, it makes me short tempered and unable to enjoy the things I normally do. So, enough! We'll fight later. Hee hee.

It was our first anniversary this weekend. We went to dinner on Saturday night. It was good, not great. This was before the talk where we decided to relax, so, it was tense. Last year at this time, we were in Mexico eating really good food, lying by the pool, and going out for more awesome food and drinks. I want to go back to Mexico.

In the past few months, there have been so many sad events. There was the September 11th anniversary, the Amish and other school shootings. Today I have some good news for you. I heard a story on the local news where a woman noticed a suspicious van in her neighborhood one day. It was back again the next day and she paid attention to it. When she noticed a little boy near the van, she rushed out and grabbed the little 4-year old child, rescuing him from the two 40-ish men inside the van who were trying to lure him away. Thank goodness for that woman who was paying attention! At least one child was saved today from torture, cruelty, sexual or physical assualt, and maybe even death. What is wrong with a person that they seek out children to perpetrate such horrible acts? What? There is no good answer to that.

Back to the good.

Recently, OC has been overheard commenting, "Look Mom! I can eat with chapsticks!"

I wonder if the waxy texture bothered her or not?

One day, she was drawing a picture of me and as I posed for her she said, "Smile...bigger....bigger...no, not that big. I can't draw teeth yet."

Last night I painted her toenails with what she calls "toenolish". One foot pink, the other green, in polish that glows in the dark. I don't know where my sister found glow in the dark nail polish, but she did and she sent some to me and it's the coolest.

Hair Color as Personality

Your Hair Should Be White

Classy, stylish, and eloquent. You've got a way about you that floors everyone you meet.

What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

It Has Been Four Days Since My Last Confession

And I'm pretty sure I've sinned since then. Moving on...

Yoga was great again today, what with the life lessons and the stretching. Today the instructor talked about the fourth yama: chastity.

Sexuality is a part of human existence and the idea of chastity is that of moderating the impulse. It is not about ignoring our sexual proclivity, but rather controlling the appetite. It also relates to other appetites, such as food.

The idea is to be aware of the natural compulsion for sex and then to control how we act on it by making specific choices about behavior in order to fulfill that appetite. It is desirable to reach the state where you can be very deliberate about your actions, so that rather than denying yourself pleasure at every turn or feeling guilty about it, you instead act appropriately. In order to decide what is appropriate, you must have clarity about what is inappropriate and about what will hurt you (or others). THAT is the part that is key: clarity. If you don't have clarity, you can feel rudderless. Oh, I don't like that word. You can feel adrift. It isn't good, is what I'm saying.

P.S. What is this, sailing reference day?

Yoga is a very deliberate practice. You must think about which way you're holding your body in order to achieve the correct position and not hurt yourself. What I love about it is that it's not just exercise, but a practice which includes thought for better ways of Being.

Namaste.

A Moment in Time

Next year, my family and I will move to Central Oregon in order for my husband to become an owner in a new satellite office his company will open.

This is a great opportunity for him to expand his skills, to organize and manage projects and personnel, and much more. He deserves it. He works hard, and he has earned his place at his company. I am happy for him, and I want him to enjoy the success he has worked so hard for. I just wish it could happen here, so we wouldn't have to move.

Here's the thing: moving is not so much what either of us want to do, but I more than he am having a really hard time with it. It's caused stress and arguments between us, which totally sucks.

We had a good talk about it last night, where tempers were calm and we got through a discussion of difficult thoughts and feelings. I feel great now because I was able to tell him how I really felt, and he said he understood and told me why he understood. You know what an amazing feeling it is to be able to do that? To express some deeper thoughts that you have to someone you care about, and have that person listen and respond kindly? Amazing! Very satisfying.

So, the reason for this post to go where it's going to go is because I believe it's important for my growth to record where I'm at in the moment. This is something I want to do for many reasons. I want to read this again in a month, a year, a few years, and remember where I was in order to compare it to where I am. To where I have gone. You see? I hope that this post forces me to eat some major crow in the future, after Life has taken me where it will, to prove to me that I was being short-sighted, impatient, cautious, unadventurous. I have to tell you that right now this whole moving thing really pisses me off.

I'm mad that I'm finally in a place where I feel comfortable and that life can start again for me. I was settling in to our new marriage, new town, new house, new stay-at-home mommydom (just three months ago), and OC starting in Kindergarten at a GREAT school. That was enjoyed for nine months before the possibility of moving came up. We were going to try for a baby. I had gotten off my sleeping medication a few months ago and enjoyed unmedicated sleep for the first time in Y-E-A-R-S. I have every reason to believe this came about due to happiness, contentment, a feeling of stability.

Contentment and stability are to be found in the town we now live. It is just the right size so there are plenty of things here, but if it's not here, there are towns and cities nearby where you can get what you need. It's safe, it's got little traffic, it's beautiful; a quiet college town. I LOVE IT. Portland is 40 minutes away, which is one of my favorite cities in the world and I say that in a totally biased way because I was born there. I love Portland. It's relatively safe, clean, easy to get around in, with plenty of entertainment and cultural events, Broadway series shows, symphony, waterfront, nature, and more. I can get my Ipnosi and Ether shopping fix, go see friends, eat at various amazing restaurants, and all of it is affordable.

Previously, I lived somewhere I didn't like that was far, far away from work, friends, and family. That was totally my fault and I accept that. I set about to change that circumstance once I finally admitted my mistake. I learned something about myself: that I never want to live where I am isolated like that again. OC and I lived with a friend in Portland for one month before I found an apartment in Portland for us. OC and I lived in our own apartment for two years, then I got married and we moved here.

All that in three years.

When I think of it this way, it makes me want to ask, "What is so wrong with LIKING where I am and STAYING here, Universe? Why do you have to go and mess that up for me???"

I know that Life is not in our control, ever. I know that things that hurt us are not designed to hurt us, but are designed to teach us a valuable lesson and/or force us to make the move we should be making in life in order to move forward. I am a tough cookie (okay, stubborn) who doesn't like change (I think that's called being "normal"), especially when I find a comfortable place, so I can see why Life would have to get pushy with me in order to make its point.

There is a place inside of me that knows inherently that this could be a good move, a good experience. This place knows that the important things go with me no matter where I live on the Earth: my child, my husband, my family, my kitties, memories of loved ones, photos, my Netflix subscription (hee hee.....). So what's the big deal with changing my address?

The big deal is that life is hard and I've been through some damn hard things lately. The big deal is that I'm ready for some damn peace. Heck, I deserve some peace! Don't I? It means packing and moving all my stuff, again, making new friends, feeling unsettled, finding my place, again, blah blah blah. It also means new experiences, new friends, new good things I can't even imagine right now. Change is unknown and could bring bad things, too. I quit my job and stay at home now, spending time in a town that I want to be, in a house that feels safe and comfortable.

My husband is frustrated with me because he thinks that since I have said yes to this, I should move on and be positive. Steeped in thoughts of how much I will be losing, it's no wonder why I'm angry. I don't know how to manage all of the feelings, but I know that it is all a process. The first stage is anger. (It always is, isn't it?) There will be other stages.

I am looking for the lesson in this, and I have some questions: What is trying to be taught to me? What should be doing? What about the way I feel about the whole thing? What about the say I have in my own life? How do you know when your feelings of Not Wanting are normal, and that you should do it anyway versus when it's a real warning not to do it?

These questions are mine, to be answered in time although I could use some answers now, thank you. For now I take comfort in the internet (connections to people - email and blogging), books full of wisdome, being involved in my child's school, spending time with my sister and neice who, FOR NOW, lives 20 minutes away, among other things.

*sigh*

Letting go. It's all about letting go, going with the flow. I'm not used to that and so it feels scary and strange and different and NOT comfortable at all. (I think this is called "normal" as well.)

I just realized this post is not nearly as angry and full of "Life isn't fair! You suck, Life!" as I thought it would be. It's sort of a little more contemplative and open. Hm.

I just want to be okay. Tell me it will be okay. Go on, LIE TO ME if you have to, tell me a platitude or two. I need something to fill the time before those answers arrive.

That's where I'm at. It ain't pretty, is it? No. But it's honest.

Here's to looking forward to new stages.

Skippyjon Jones and the Mole in the Yard of the Coffee Stained Coffee Table People

My coffee table is so clean right now. There's a reason for this, and it's not because I eat organic vegetables which, with their relative lack of pesticides leaves me more energy to clean. No, it was not that.

I brewed a pot of coffee this morning and poured a wonderfully fresh cup which I brought to the coffee table (Ahh, the symbioticness of drinking coffee at the coffee table...) along with a toasted and buttered bagel. First, I took a bit of my buttery bagel and then reached for my warm, perfectly sweetened coffee. The buttery bagel transfered some buttery goodness onto my fingers which slipped as I tried to grip the coffee mug, and so instead of enjoying the brewed elixir, it spilled all over the coffee table and the contents of the coffee table and the floor. Dakota, not wanting to miss out on any important happening, immediately walked over and sniffed, then walked through it.

There was coffee-soaked mail, catalogs, coupons, coasters, a beaded table decoration, and a skein of camel colored silk and alpaca yarn. I immediately grabbed the yarn and took it to the kitchen to rinse it, because coffee-stained alpaca silk is less "Do It Yourself Dyed Yarn" and more "Crap-Colored Junk".

In other news, we have a mole in the front yard. The little guy is really going to town digging up holes in the lawn and flowerbed to the endless annoyance of my husband and myself but to the endless fascination of the neighbor cat. The neighbor cat is a beautiful Siamese who we have dubbed Skippyjon Jones in reference to the children's books my daughter loves about a Siamese cat who thinks he's a Chihuahua. That, and we don't know his real name.

I watched Skippy this morning after I got home from dropping OC at school. He was crouched down in front of the hole where dirt was being flung to the surface. His beautifully colored body was tense but still, his gaze intent upon the hole. Then the mole surfaced. I could see him from the car. It threw up some dirt, then stuck his head out for a few seconds before disappearing again. More dirt. Skippy watched.

And watched. And watched. And.............watched.

I kept waiting for him to pounce, looking for the telltale signs of impending pounce: the rear end shimmy, the twitching tail, but he kept hesitating. It was driving me nuts! I was cheering him on from inside the car, where I was because I did not want to get out and disturb him or scare the mole away. I could see his pretty kitty body tense, then hesitate, then tense again, as though he were internally struggling with the moral implications of killing a rodent. Either that, or he was considering what those ginormous rodent teeth might do to his beautiful coat. Hard to say. I kept watching him, hoping.

The mole disappeared for longer and longer periods of time, and that's when Skippy decided to pounce. Finally! He stuck his front arm down the molehole all the way up to his shoulder. Great! Scare the thing farther down the hole, you little silly little pretty boy!

I wanted to say 'grow some balls', but being as though he is a neutered male I thought that was just rude. He was trying, the poor, ball-less little guy.

I finally got out of the car and went around back to find our badass hunter kitty, Rum. That girl has killed moles in the garden before, all six pounds of spayed female. I wanted to bring this mole to her attention. She was, unfortunately, too itchy or tired or whatever to pay much attention to the rodent in front of her which she is genetically programmed to want to hunt. What is it with cats these days, fighting their biology?

For now, the mole is alive and well. I have no impetus to kill it, even though he's destroying parts of the lawn and flowers. I'm kind of hoping he'll go away on his own, especially if he is continually molested by cats who, although don't seem to pose a mortal threat, could tire him of having their arms stuck into his house. Can you see that? An exasperated mole, packing up and moving his things elsewhere?

Maybe it's me, or maybe I've read too much Beatrix Potter, but I think it could happen.

Comment Dilemma

Folks, I am in the midst of a dilemma.

First of all, there's the fact that I use the word, 'folks', as if I am a 104-year old person from the generation that uses that word. Not that using that word is a bad thing, it's not. What I mean to say is, where did that come from? Am I channeling my inner great-grandmother?

Anyway. Back to the dilemma. What I am trying to figure out is the best way to respond to comments left on this site. Should I respond via email or in comments left in the comments section of the same posts? Leaving comments in my own posts feels funny to me, because who reads this stuff after a few days?

Does anyone come back to read the comments left in a post after a few days have gone by to see if their comments have been, well, commented upon? I'd much rather email the individual, but not everyone leaves email info. That's okay, but then the only way for me to respond is by commenting on my own site, which, I don't know, doesn't feel as thorough as it should be. I want you to feel responded to, cared for, because you are. What do you think?

The other morning, OC asked me, "Mommy, how do eyes make sesame seeds?"

Excellent question, darling. I'll be glad to answer that for you honey, but if your eyes are making sesame seeds, then would you please see if you can spin this hay into gold for mama? Thanks, pumpkin.

Very Important Followup

With regard to last post, I might add, actions are nothing without the intentions that brought you to act in the first place. In conclusion, intentions are important, as is their nature (i.e. if they are altruistic or if they are maybe self-serving or malicious).

I am in a very First Thought kind of writing mood. Maybe that's because it is so early in the morning and I'm not a morning person and so First Thoughts are more like Only Thoughts. I have no choice in the matter.

What am I doing up? I got up to see my husband while he ate breakfast, "see" being the operative word. He likes it when I get up with him, I like to make him happy, so there you go. I'm not very thinkative in the morning. It's morning, and my mind is a blank slate, fresh for the day. Consequently, I have very little to say. We did a lot of meaningful looking at one another.

After he went to work, I thought I'd use the quiet time to respond to week-old email, read some blogs, and then write a little. Reading always stimulates writing. Speaking of writing, I really like this from Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg:

Anything we fully do is an alone journey.....you can't expect anyone to match the intensity of your emotions or to completely understand what you went through."

She's talking about the emotions that come when you finish writing a book, and how it can leave you angry or sad when the act of completion is usually imagined as such a successful, triumphant time. I know nothing of what it feels like to finish a book, but I do know a thing or two about life, and I think this distilled quote is true for many things in life. Relationships, for instance; friendships; marriage. Take from it what you will.

Keep in mind that it's early, and I'm not at my best. I'm not inhibited by thinky thoughts like I am at other times of the day, and maybe that's a good thing.