"when you are going through something hard and wonder where god is, remember the teacher is always quiet during a test"
So maybe you have seen this saying floating around facebook. It is pissing me off a little. I feel like it goes against everything I know to be true about God.
First of all, He does not test us. Satan has cornered that market. God has given us free will and lets us just have at it. The decisions we make are our own and He often shakes his head, I am sure, as we muck things up, but I don't think He sets out tests and trials just to see how we would do.
The idea that God is sitting in His throne room arranging clay models of us ala 80s version of Clash of the Titans just seems absurd to me.
So that is my beef with the quiet during a test part.
My beef with the rest of the saying is a bit longer.
If I list the hardest moments of my life and then check Yes or No by each moment where I could hear the Lord's voice, I would honestly have to say that I would have to check Yes. Now as long as I am being honest, I would then have to put an asterisk by each moment that I chose not to listen. Or chose to respond to God with "get lost" or worse. He was never silent.
The worst personal moments for me were when I was cutting. I wouldn't have listened to anyone, least of all, God. Even as an adult I would purposely shut Him out. But He was always speaking to me. Through those that knew I was hurting, He reached out to me. I just didn't want to hear that I was loved. I wasn't left to my own devices to try and pass the test, the challenge, the 40 days in the desert.
I don't know why this saying has really gotten under my skin.
Well, it blows a lot of hole in the Footprints message. I mean, if God isn't listening, how is He carrying me. It also does not line up well with Hebrews 13:5. I will never leave you or forsake you.
Now I suppose you could argue that during the test, the teacher is silent, but still in the room. But that isn't going to fly with me because with faith there is never a moment where you are alone. That is what faith is.
Whew.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Dream Job?
Right now, I have a friend that is in a job that is not worth her. She dreams of going to college, of getting her nursing degree, of having a job that means something to her. I totally get that. Not the college part or the nursing part, but the meaningful job part. That ship has sailed for me, which is fine. I can keep at this gig, it pays the bills and I don't hate it. But my friend, she is young and huge hearted and can be something more.
I now live vicariously through others.
She is talking about taking some test to get some certificate. Anyway, she is excited. I am excited for her. It's not that I want her to leave me at the work place, it's that I want her to follow her dreams. It is fun and exciting to see her get excited.
I, on the other hand, have no employment dreams. That's ok, isn't it? Seriously, couldn't I just settle for this job and let it pay the bills while I enjoy my homelife? I am doing that right now and it seems to be working out for me pretty well. I wish I could have stayed with the hardware company. I wish that the fitness place could have turned out somewhat differently. I wish I had a marketable talent. I wish the people at corporate never monkeyed with a good thing. But I couldn't, it didn't, I don't, and they did.
Another person at work has just announced his retirement. He has been with this company for fifteen years. This was his post retirement job, he is 80. He has decided that he wants to do some traveling and a few other things while he still has the time and the job has lost some of it's shine, he says. He doesn't have to work, he wanted to. I won't be like that. I understand the desire to be busy, but I don't think I would want to be scheduled for busy when I don't have to be.
It is ok if I don't love my job. It is ok if I stand back and encourage everyone else around me to chase their dream. My job dream isn't out there. Not now, not here.
What is my dream job? Well, for a long time it was to be a tour guide in Rothenburg. I always enjoyed the enthusiasm and never ending facts that flowed from the flag/umbrella carrying tour guides.
What other dream job? Finding something that I am good at. My job now, I am good at half of it. That is hard for me because I was always good at all of it.
So if anyone knows of an opening for tour guides in the Des Moines area, please let me know.
I now live vicariously through others.
She is talking about taking some test to get some certificate. Anyway, she is excited. I am excited for her. It's not that I want her to leave me at the work place, it's that I want her to follow her dreams. It is fun and exciting to see her get excited.
I, on the other hand, have no employment dreams. That's ok, isn't it? Seriously, couldn't I just settle for this job and let it pay the bills while I enjoy my homelife? I am doing that right now and it seems to be working out for me pretty well. I wish I could have stayed with the hardware company. I wish that the fitness place could have turned out somewhat differently. I wish I had a marketable talent. I wish the people at corporate never monkeyed with a good thing. But I couldn't, it didn't, I don't, and they did.
Another person at work has just announced his retirement. He has been with this company for fifteen years. This was his post retirement job, he is 80. He has decided that he wants to do some traveling and a few other things while he still has the time and the job has lost some of it's shine, he says. He doesn't have to work, he wanted to. I won't be like that. I understand the desire to be busy, but I don't think I would want to be scheduled for busy when I don't have to be.
It is ok if I don't love my job. It is ok if I stand back and encourage everyone else around me to chase their dream. My job dream isn't out there. Not now, not here.
What is my dream job? Well, for a long time it was to be a tour guide in Rothenburg. I always enjoyed the enthusiasm and never ending facts that flowed from the flag/umbrella carrying tour guides.
What other dream job? Finding something that I am good at. My job now, I am good at half of it. That is hard for me because I was always good at all of it.
So if anyone knows of an opening for tour guides in the Des Moines area, please let me know.
Friday, February 24, 2012
More on the last blog
So, I am just so damn lucky. Danny bought me a new phone. He went to the Sprint store, he dealt with all of the getting a new phone drama and he took Jacob. All the while, I was getting my hair done. Which was a gift from Danny as well. So far, pretty sweet.
Now he picks out a super cool IPhone. It is far fancier than I have ever had. Danny gets all the basics set up for me. Jacob pisses off Siri (the phone personality). He says things like "poop" and "where can I dump a body?" and "what are you wearing?" Siri thinks I am a perverted nutjob.
Well, last night while I am busy in the family room, Danny and Jacob are in the kitchen. As is my phone. Jacob convinces Siri to call me "Poophead".
So there is my brand new phone referring to me as "Poophead". Jacob is giggling like a schoolgirl, Danny is trying to keep a straight face to no avail. I am so embarrassed that I am now "Poophead" when I am obviously not. Jacob, God love him...
So back to the part of yesterday's blog that I only touched on.
It was after ten. Danny had gotten Siri to call me "Anne" again. He got some apps downloaded for me. He tinkered with some settings. I now have London time on the phone. I like that. I also have Words with Friends and Freecell. I also go a new photo of Harlow that Danny took of her at the top of the stairs.
What I didn't have was the last photo I ever took of Barron. It was my wallpaper on my old phone. It is stuck to my locker at work. It is on the shelf in the living room. It is taken as he breathed his last breathe. I keep it so near me because it is a reminder of what love ought to look like. And as I type this, I cry.
So there was my best friend, trying to figure out how to get a picture of my other best friend. Danny had to fire up his computer, find the adapter for the tiny SD card, download the SD card stuff onto his computer and then somehow upload it to my phone. From there he had to set it as my wallpaper. He did all this on his last night off from work while he really wanted to be drinking a beer in the hottub while snow fell around him.
I didn't even have to ask him to do this for me. He just gets me, ya know.
And now, as I try to find a closing to this blog, Jacob is saying "poop" to Siri, again. Siri is not having any of his nonsense. And that is a topic for another blog.
Now he picks out a super cool IPhone. It is far fancier than I have ever had. Danny gets all the basics set up for me. Jacob pisses off Siri (the phone personality). He says things like "poop" and "where can I dump a body?" and "what are you wearing?" Siri thinks I am a perverted nutjob.
Well, last night while I am busy in the family room, Danny and Jacob are in the kitchen. As is my phone. Jacob convinces Siri to call me "Poophead".
So there is my brand new phone referring to me as "Poophead". Jacob is giggling like a schoolgirl, Danny is trying to keep a straight face to no avail. I am so embarrassed that I am now "Poophead" when I am obviously not. Jacob, God love him...
So back to the part of yesterday's blog that I only touched on.
It was after ten. Danny had gotten Siri to call me "Anne" again. He got some apps downloaded for me. He tinkered with some settings. I now have London time on the phone. I like that. I also have Words with Friends and Freecell. I also go a new photo of Harlow that Danny took of her at the top of the stairs.
What I didn't have was the last photo I ever took of Barron. It was my wallpaper on my old phone. It is stuck to my locker at work. It is on the shelf in the living room. It is taken as he breathed his last breathe. I keep it so near me because it is a reminder of what love ought to look like. And as I type this, I cry.
So there was my best friend, trying to figure out how to get a picture of my other best friend. Danny had to fire up his computer, find the adapter for the tiny SD card, download the SD card stuff onto his computer and then somehow upload it to my phone. From there he had to set it as my wallpaper. He did all this on his last night off from work while he really wanted to be drinking a beer in the hottub while snow fell around him.
I didn't even have to ask him to do this for me. He just gets me, ya know.
And now, as I try to find a closing to this blog, Jacob is saying "poop" to Siri, again. Siri is not having any of his nonsense. And that is a topic for another blog.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Has Never Been Work
There have been some conversations lately with various people about marriage, the good of it and the bad of it and the work of it. These people have been long time married, not so long time married and divorced. I have learned that there is really no place for me in a lot of these conversations because I just don't get where a lot of people are coming from.
Danny and I were talking about it and we just don't see marriage as work. Work generally sucks. Our marriage generally doesn't suck.
I have the opportunity to chat it up with a lot of folks that have been around for a while. I work with a guy that has been married nearly 58 years. When Danny and I celebrated our twenty second anniversary, he commented that Danny and I were still in the newly wed years. I have seen his wife and him, they are in the newlywed stage, too. I listen to what this guy has to say because he obviously knows how to make it work. From the sounds of it, he and his wife have just been good partners. It seems pretty easy.
But I know it must not be or the divorce rate wouldn't be what it is. Or maybe it is just too easy to get divorced, or easier not to try. I am not going to try to guess the reasons.
What we have here is working and we don't plan to mess with it. We came into this union as kids and were quickly asked to do some pretty adult things. But we never stayed all grown up and serious and stuff (as this sentence demonstrates). We made a ton of poor decisions. We have been pennies from broke. Ok, we have been broke. We have struggled with the bills and rent and car problems. Everyone does.
We have never struggled with where we wanted to be as a couple or a family. I have always known that Danny's job would be the important job. We would move because of his job. We would have separation because of his job. We would have a roof over our heads because of his job. But I always felt like we made the decisions together. Even when Danny was pursuing different military schools, he always would ask me about how I would feel if he went to Ranger School (yes!), Airborne School (sure!), SERE School (I don't think so.). But had been really important to Danny to go, I would have relented because at that time, I knew that I could never be the reason why his career stalled. And it never did and I was never the reason. One thing that I truly have pride in was my capabilities as a military wife.
I read the top ten reasons for divorce.
10. Difference in priorities and expectations- well, I have lost count of the number of nights that we laid there in bed and played the "where do you see us in 5, 10, 50 years" game. Oddly, we always told similar stories but I mentioned that I was skinny in my vision.
9. Addiction- deal breaker. Danny already said. If I try meth there is no taking me back. I say 'fair enough'. Seriously, he warned me fair and square. If I go out and do meth (as you can tell by my sophisticated drug speak, that probably won't happen) I should just plan on not coming home.
8. Child rearing issues - if this refers to how often the child or yourself moons the other, no issue there. Danny and I actually had to come together on this one as we raised our children. There were and are times that we get frustrated with each other. I tend to lecture and Danny tends to slip into Cop mode, but at the end of the day, Danny moons Jacob from the deck and I ignore both of them.
7. Religious and cultural strains - nope. We have plenty of faith but no culture.
6. Boredom- Boredom? Marry Danny White and you won't be bored. EVER!
5. Sexual incompatibility- well, I really won't get into that.
4. Money problems - we are both spenders. Though Danny is actually ready to graduate to the saver. I am trying. But we don't hide our bills or receipts or any of that. Danny does have a separate account where he saves without me knowing it. I like that. I don't have a separate account. I have trouble keeping one balanced.
3. Abuse- never happened, never will. Though I have been put into a cold shower. Ask about that story. It starts with "Anne was drinking apfelkorn out of a sherry glass..."
2. breakdown of communication- I don't listen well and Danny has a hearing issue. But we still manage to communicate.
1. cheating- again, this is not something I am going to talk about. I know that some people can move on from this one, and others can't. I don't know what I would do. I would probably crack open another bottle of apfelkorn to start with...
I guess I am just really lucky that the guy in the next room trying to figure out how to put a picture of my dead dog back on my phone so I can see Barron every day still, is my husband and will always be. I don't work to keep him happy. He doesn't work to keep me happy. We play and laugh and struggle to keep each other happy.
I think there have been tests. I think there have been trials. I think there have been moments for both of us when we had to catch our breath before moving on, but I know for both of us, we were moving on together.
Marriage, this marriage and all that it has been through is joyous and victorious. It is crazy. It is nerve racking. It is a pain in the ass. But it has never been work.
Danny and I were talking about it and we just don't see marriage as work. Work generally sucks. Our marriage generally doesn't suck.
I have the opportunity to chat it up with a lot of folks that have been around for a while. I work with a guy that has been married nearly 58 years. When Danny and I celebrated our twenty second anniversary, he commented that Danny and I were still in the newly wed years. I have seen his wife and him, they are in the newlywed stage, too. I listen to what this guy has to say because he obviously knows how to make it work. From the sounds of it, he and his wife have just been good partners. It seems pretty easy.
But I know it must not be or the divorce rate wouldn't be what it is. Or maybe it is just too easy to get divorced, or easier not to try. I am not going to try to guess the reasons.
What we have here is working and we don't plan to mess with it. We came into this union as kids and were quickly asked to do some pretty adult things. But we never stayed all grown up and serious and stuff (as this sentence demonstrates). We made a ton of poor decisions. We have been pennies from broke. Ok, we have been broke. We have struggled with the bills and rent and car problems. Everyone does.
We have never struggled with where we wanted to be as a couple or a family. I have always known that Danny's job would be the important job. We would move because of his job. We would have separation because of his job. We would have a roof over our heads because of his job. But I always felt like we made the decisions together. Even when Danny was pursuing different military schools, he always would ask me about how I would feel if he went to Ranger School (yes!), Airborne School (sure!), SERE School (I don't think so.). But had been really important to Danny to go, I would have relented because at that time, I knew that I could never be the reason why his career stalled. And it never did and I was never the reason. One thing that I truly have pride in was my capabilities as a military wife.
I read the top ten reasons for divorce.
10. Difference in priorities and expectations- well, I have lost count of the number of nights that we laid there in bed and played the "where do you see us in 5, 10, 50 years" game. Oddly, we always told similar stories but I mentioned that I was skinny in my vision.
9. Addiction- deal breaker. Danny already said. If I try meth there is no taking me back. I say 'fair enough'. Seriously, he warned me fair and square. If I go out and do meth (as you can tell by my sophisticated drug speak, that probably won't happen) I should just plan on not coming home.
8. Child rearing issues - if this refers to how often the child or yourself moons the other, no issue there. Danny and I actually had to come together on this one as we raised our children. There were and are times that we get frustrated with each other. I tend to lecture and Danny tends to slip into Cop mode, but at the end of the day, Danny moons Jacob from the deck and I ignore both of them.
7. Religious and cultural strains - nope. We have plenty of faith but no culture.
6. Boredom- Boredom? Marry Danny White and you won't be bored. EVER!
5. Sexual incompatibility- well, I really won't get into that.
4. Money problems - we are both spenders. Though Danny is actually ready to graduate to the saver. I am trying. But we don't hide our bills or receipts or any of that. Danny does have a separate account where he saves without me knowing it. I like that. I don't have a separate account. I have trouble keeping one balanced.
3. Abuse- never happened, never will. Though I have been put into a cold shower. Ask about that story. It starts with "Anne was drinking apfelkorn out of a sherry glass..."
2. breakdown of communication- I don't listen well and Danny has a hearing issue. But we still manage to communicate.
1. cheating- again, this is not something I am going to talk about. I know that some people can move on from this one, and others can't. I don't know what I would do. I would probably crack open another bottle of apfelkorn to start with...
I guess I am just really lucky that the guy in the next room trying to figure out how to put a picture of my dead dog back on my phone so I can see Barron every day still, is my husband and will always be. I don't work to keep him happy. He doesn't work to keep me happy. We play and laugh and struggle to keep each other happy.
I think there have been tests. I think there have been trials. I think there have been moments for both of us when we had to catch our breath before moving on, but I know for both of us, we were moving on together.
Marriage, this marriage and all that it has been through is joyous and victorious. It is crazy. It is nerve racking. It is a pain in the ass. But it has never been work.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Danny's side of the story
"I was just trying to clean up my home improvement project." Danny explained. "I walked by Hayley's room, just to tell her that I loved her and to offer her some homemade cookies and milk. That's when the yelling began."
Danny had to pause to collect himself. "The horrible names that she called me, I can't even repeat. She screamed that she hated me, wanted me out of her life forever."
"I tried to walk away, but she wouldn't let me go. She was swinging her fists. Then she jumped on my back." Danny cried. I could tell that he was still very terrified by what happened that day. "I finally shook her loose and was just going to leave the situation. It is true that I had the screwdriver, but not as a weapon." Danny explained between sobs.
"Then, I heard this low guttural growl. My body went cold like all that was good and pure was being sucked out of me. Then she screamed. I turned just in time to see her come at me with a crazy look in her eye. I turned my body toward her and just as she brought her arm down on me, I instinctively brought my arm up to block her punch. That's when I stabbed her, or rather, that's when she fell on my screwdriver, once."
"Hayley crumpled to the floor. I heard Jacob running up the stairs. He saw Hayley bleeding, I tried to offer her help but Jacob yelled "NO!!!" He said to let her bleed out."
"Jacob tried to wrestle the screwdriver from my hand. He kept saying it was his chance. I pushed him away and covered Hayley's body with my own until help could arrive." Danny finished his story as he pulled the last tissue from the box. It was heart wrenching to see this family falling apart in the upstairs hall.
Danny had to pause to collect himself. "The horrible names that she called me, I can't even repeat. She screamed that she hated me, wanted me out of her life forever."
"I tried to walk away, but she wouldn't let me go. She was swinging her fists. Then she jumped on my back." Danny cried. I could tell that he was still very terrified by what happened that day. "I finally shook her loose and was just going to leave the situation. It is true that I had the screwdriver, but not as a weapon." Danny explained between sobs.
"Then, I heard this low guttural growl. My body went cold like all that was good and pure was being sucked out of me. Then she screamed. I turned just in time to see her come at me with a crazy look in her eye. I turned my body toward her and just as she brought her arm down on me, I instinctively brought my arm up to block her punch. That's when I stabbed her, or rather, that's when she fell on my screwdriver, once."
"Hayley crumpled to the floor. I heard Jacob running up the stairs. He saw Hayley bleeding, I tried to offer her help but Jacob yelled "NO!!!" He said to let her bleed out."
"Jacob tried to wrestle the screwdriver from my hand. He kept saying it was his chance. I pushed him away and covered Hayley's body with my own until help could arrive." Danny finished his story as he pulled the last tissue from the box. It was heart wrenching to see this family falling apart in the upstairs hall.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
A Bloodied Tale
"I wasn't here for the start of it." Said Jacob "when I came up she was holding her bloodied arm and whincing in pain."
"I was in my room, minding my own business." Hayley said. "He did his usual naughty stuff, you know how he knocks, says things like 'poop' and pulls his sweatshirt up over his head and tucks his ears out."
"SO I opened the door to find him standing there with a screwdriver. He had the screwdriver in his palm with only the blade of the driver visable. It was a flathead screwdriver but I thought it was a knife. He wasn't doing a home improvement project, he was threatening me with a deadly weapon." She cried.
"What have you done to her?" He yelled. Hayley had worked herself into the far corner. Afraid to watch what might happen next.
"She ran into my screwdriver." Danny said as he took another long drag from his Swisher black and mild. "She ran into my screwdriver nine times." He flicked the remainder of his cigarello at Jacob. Then Danny took a swig from his airplane sized bottle of Jack. "She deserved what she got."
Jacob knew that he was no match for his father, noone was. Danny had become a man filled with hate and rage and Jack. These siblings knew that they must unite if they were ever to leave this hallway alive. Danny lunged toward Jacob just as Hayley, using all the courage she could muster, rose to her feet and cried "You have no power over me!"
With that, Danny slumped to the floor, defeated. The bloodied screwdriver fell from his hands.
"I was in my room, minding my own business." Hayley said. "He did his usual naughty stuff, you know how he knocks, says things like 'poop' and pulls his sweatshirt up over his head and tucks his ears out."
"SO I opened the door to find him standing there with a screwdriver. He had the screwdriver in his palm with only the blade of the driver visable. It was a flathead screwdriver but I thought it was a knife. He wasn't doing a home improvement project, he was threatening me with a deadly weapon." She cried.
I tried to comfort Hayley, but it was no use. She had to tell her story, it was the only therapy she knew. With a deep breath and a wiping of the tears, she continued.
"I tried my best to defend myself. I used the skills that he taught me, but oddly enough he only taught me things that he knew how to counter. It was like he had prepared me to fail. I was so frightened and so alone. Was this going to be my last night, I wondered. Would I ever have the chance to live and to love in a life without fear of my own father."
Jacob heard the piercing screams. Hayley screamed so loud that from two stories down Jacob came running. He bounded up the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top floor he found her, his sister in a pool of elbow blood. She shook with fear. All the while, her father sneered in the corner. His screwdriver shown red with blood. Jacob prepared to fight for his sister's life."What have you done to her?" He yelled. Hayley had worked herself into the far corner. Afraid to watch what might happen next.
"She ran into my screwdriver." Danny said as he took another long drag from his Swisher black and mild. "She ran into my screwdriver nine times." He flicked the remainder of his cigarello at Jacob. Then Danny took a swig from his airplane sized bottle of Jack. "She deserved what she got."
Jacob knew that he was no match for his father, noone was. Danny had become a man filled with hate and rage and Jack. These siblings knew that they must unite if they were ever to leave this hallway alive. Danny lunged toward Jacob just as Hayley, using all the courage she could muster, rose to her feet and cried "You have no power over me!"
With that, Danny slumped to the floor, defeated. The bloodied screwdriver fell from his hands.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
I am Tired
I am tired. I have not one single creative idea floating about in my head. I am envious of Harlow and her benadryl induced sleep. She lays by my feet with her heavy sighs and snores. I am envious of Danny and his exhausted sleep. He was up for over twenty four hours and will be able to sleep until he wakes up. I am envious of Jacob and Hayley who do not have class tomorrow and can stay up late tonight and sleep in tomorrow.
I am tired and so ready to sleep. But I have restless legs right now and itchy premaveras. If I go to bed now, I run the risk of waking Danny up. I have to wait for the legs to stop their restlessness, well, not actually restlessness but pricklyness (I am making up words here!). My legs feel like all the unshaved hair on them (as if) is standing on end and the hair is being pulled back into my legs. Freaky, right. And itchy premaveras are really bad itchy spots. The phrase was coined by Ashlyn when she was little. She had hurt herself. Her description was an ouchie premavera. I don't know how she came up with premavera because we were not eating that, ever. But the phrase stuck and now we are frequently strickened with ouchie and itchy premaveras.
I should have taken a cue from Harlow and downed a benadryl an hour ago. One little pink pill is all I need to slip into a crazy dream filled night. Harlow had four and that only took the edge off. We had a crew of home insulators her today and she was not happy. Now it might be too late to get enough sleep and not wake up groggy. At the same time, if I do not stop being itchy, I will never get to sleep.
More than anything, I just long for sleep. That cool, dark room sleep. You know the kind. The kind that pulls everything out of you, refreshes it up a bit, like a toss in the dryer, and then fills you back up with peace and energy. I long for that sunspot sleep. The kind that is warm and a little sweaty. Where the covers never even move because the sleep is so still and deep.
So here goes nothing. Well, here goes half a shot of Nyquil. Hopefully I will get that drug induced sleep that isn't as peaceful or restful but is sleep none the less.
I am tired and so ready to sleep. But I have restless legs right now and itchy premaveras. If I go to bed now, I run the risk of waking Danny up. I have to wait for the legs to stop their restlessness, well, not actually restlessness but pricklyness (I am making up words here!). My legs feel like all the unshaved hair on them (as if) is standing on end and the hair is being pulled back into my legs. Freaky, right. And itchy premaveras are really bad itchy spots. The phrase was coined by Ashlyn when she was little. She had hurt herself. Her description was an ouchie premavera. I don't know how she came up with premavera because we were not eating that, ever. But the phrase stuck and now we are frequently strickened with ouchie and itchy premaveras.
I should have taken a cue from Harlow and downed a benadryl an hour ago. One little pink pill is all I need to slip into a crazy dream filled night. Harlow had four and that only took the edge off. We had a crew of home insulators her today and she was not happy. Now it might be too late to get enough sleep and not wake up groggy. At the same time, if I do not stop being itchy, I will never get to sleep.
More than anything, I just long for sleep. That cool, dark room sleep. You know the kind. The kind that pulls everything out of you, refreshes it up a bit, like a toss in the dryer, and then fills you back up with peace and energy. I long for that sunspot sleep. The kind that is warm and a little sweaty. Where the covers never even move because the sleep is so still and deep.
So here goes nothing. Well, here goes half a shot of Nyquil. Hopefully I will get that drug induced sleep that isn't as peaceful or restful but is sleep none the less.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
you wanna know what love is?
Love is a flag pole and a trip to a bunch of rocks. Yep, that is the height of my romance this year, 20 feet. Well, that's the height of the flagpole anyway!
Oh, its not that I am not a romantic, I am. I got Danny chocolates and I got him a card. But getting him what he has talked about for years means something more to me, to him than the traditional.
Here is the thing that I know about love, it means doing what you can that reasonably makes the other person happy. And this year, it is finally getting Danny two things that he has wanted for a long time. A pole on which to hang flags and a trip to the inner circle at the heart of Druid, alien nonsense.
Ok, the flag pole is also a gift for me because I imagine the neighbor is going to be pretty pissed when that baby goes up and gets even more pissed when we get some artificial illumination going on, too! And flying Old Glory will be nice. Add to that a Pillage flag or Cowboys flag and our house will be so cool!
But the trip to Stonehenge is not about me at all. This one is all for Danny. He likes the alien stuff. He watches weird tv shows when he can't sleep. He got divining rods for Christmas. He reads books written by people with crazy hair and crazy ideas. And I know that this trip will make him happy. Very happy. I know that I will have fun watching him have fun.
And isn't that what love is all about? Making people happy?! Sharing in their interests even when they are odd and a little freaky. Isn't love a little bit about giving and taking? Really listening to the one you love and then acting on those words.
So that's what our love has come done to, twenty feet of aluminum and a bunch of rocks.
Oh, its not that I am not a romantic, I am. I got Danny chocolates and I got him a card. But getting him what he has talked about for years means something more to me, to him than the traditional.
Here is the thing that I know about love, it means doing what you can that reasonably makes the other person happy. And this year, it is finally getting Danny two things that he has wanted for a long time. A pole on which to hang flags and a trip to the inner circle at the heart of Druid, alien nonsense.
Ok, the flag pole is also a gift for me because I imagine the neighbor is going to be pretty pissed when that baby goes up and gets even more pissed when we get some artificial illumination going on, too! And flying Old Glory will be nice. Add to that a Pillage flag or Cowboys flag and our house will be so cool!
But the trip to Stonehenge is not about me at all. This one is all for Danny. He likes the alien stuff. He watches weird tv shows when he can't sleep. He got divining rods for Christmas. He reads books written by people with crazy hair and crazy ideas. And I know that this trip will make him happy. Very happy. I know that I will have fun watching him have fun.
And isn't that what love is all about? Making people happy?! Sharing in their interests even when they are odd and a little freaky. Isn't love a little bit about giving and taking? Really listening to the one you love and then acting on those words.
So that's what our love has come done to, twenty feet of aluminum and a bunch of rocks.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
The Theater, The Theater
Ashlyn's London post from this week has prompted this day's blog.
" I sat next to a lady who was in London on business and who had grown up in Manhattan, so she was curious as to how I got my love of theatre (growing up in Iowa). I explained to her how we grew up on Rodgers and Hammerstein and went to all the shows we could. I feel like my age combined with my heritage always makes people who don't know me a little surprised, but I do my best to educate the world one New Yorker at a time!"
When I was a little girl in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I was treated several times to live theater. Most of the performances were at the Paramount Theatre. The Paramount Theatre, when I was a child, is what I imagined all grand and glorious theaters looked like. The Paramount had an enormous organ that came up out of the orchestra pit. There was all the gilt and velvet and plush. It was just so amazing. And as I recall, our seats were often front row, balcony. Nothing to inhibit our viewing pleasure.
Looking back, I feel very fortunate that my parents saw it as a necessity that we were exposed to live musical theater. Not only were we exposed to theater, but it was on a regular basis that we listened to the music associated with the plays that we saw. My parents had many of the Rodgers and Hammerstein albums. There was also Man of La Mancha amongst others. Most exposure came from my dad singing bits of old musicals from stage and movies. Often, I didn't even know they were real songs until I stumbled on them later. We were so lucky!
Now before any of you begin to think I saw a second class production in the small city of Cedar Rapids, think again! Sound of Music was amazing. I remember thinking how lucky those kids were to get to be a part of the greatest musical family ever (sorry Osmonds, but you are no Von Trapp!). But it was the Theatre of Cedar Rapids production of The Music Man that sold me on the magic of live theater. You know the opening scene that takes place on the train? Well, they did that, they rocked and swayed and clicked and clacked just like they were on a train. And then, you know at the end when Harold Hill has been caught and the jig is up? There he is ready to be tarred and feathered. Marian's heart is broken. The town is demanding a band! So up on stage is a gathered group of a dozen or so poorly trained band members. There is a trombone, a clarinet and maybe a fugle horn or two but nothing much to make a town proud. And then, out of nowhere, the theatre fills with the sounds of Washington High School's marching band. As a kid, I jumped out of my seat.
When Danny and I had kids, exposing them to the classics of twentieth century musical theater seemed very natural. As babies, the girls were listening to my dad sing South Pacific and Man of La Mancha. We had the Rodgers and Hammerstein collection on VHS. Follow that up with a little My Fair Lady and toss in all of the Disney classics and that makes for some pretty musical moments. They also watched The Music Man on a fairly regular basis as well.
In 1999, Danny, Sheila, the girls and I went to see Joseph. I did not know the music except that Sheila sang it for the better part of a school year. The production was local and incredible. Several years later, the kids and I would go to a traveling Broadway show and it paled in comparision.
Living in Des Moines, we are fortunate to have Broadway shows come through all of the time. Our most recent show was Rock of Ages. Ashlyn just saw Singing in the Rain in London and Danny, Ashlyn and I are going to see We Will Rock You, the rockopera based on the music of Queen.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for seeing the importance in getting us dressed up for a Sunday matinee of song on stage. Thank you, Dad for telling me to come watch Singing in the Rain. For telling me to just watch Donald O'Connor dance. You were right, there really is nothing like that. Thank you for having an extensive record collection that we were allowed to play. Most of all, thank you for making sure that we knew what the good stuff was when it came to movies and music.
And to the woman in London that had the good fortune to be educated by my daughter, it is all in how you are raised.
" I sat next to a lady who was in London on business and who had grown up in Manhattan, so she was curious as to how I got my love of theatre (growing up in Iowa). I explained to her how we grew up on Rodgers and Hammerstein and went to all the shows we could. I feel like my age combined with my heritage always makes people who don't know me a little surprised, but I do my best to educate the world one New Yorker at a time!"
When I was a little girl in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I was treated several times to live theater. Most of the performances were at the Paramount Theatre. The Paramount Theatre, when I was a child, is what I imagined all grand and glorious theaters looked like. The Paramount had an enormous organ that came up out of the orchestra pit. There was all the gilt and velvet and plush. It was just so amazing. And as I recall, our seats were often front row, balcony. Nothing to inhibit our viewing pleasure.
Looking back, I feel very fortunate that my parents saw it as a necessity that we were exposed to live musical theater. Not only were we exposed to theater, but it was on a regular basis that we listened to the music associated with the plays that we saw. My parents had many of the Rodgers and Hammerstein albums. There was also Man of La Mancha amongst others. Most exposure came from my dad singing bits of old musicals from stage and movies. Often, I didn't even know they were real songs until I stumbled on them later. We were so lucky!
Now before any of you begin to think I saw a second class production in the small city of Cedar Rapids, think again! Sound of Music was amazing. I remember thinking how lucky those kids were to get to be a part of the greatest musical family ever (sorry Osmonds, but you are no Von Trapp!). But it was the Theatre of Cedar Rapids production of The Music Man that sold me on the magic of live theater. You know the opening scene that takes place on the train? Well, they did that, they rocked and swayed and clicked and clacked just like they were on a train. And then, you know at the end when Harold Hill has been caught and the jig is up? There he is ready to be tarred and feathered. Marian's heart is broken. The town is demanding a band! So up on stage is a gathered group of a dozen or so poorly trained band members. There is a trombone, a clarinet and maybe a fugle horn or two but nothing much to make a town proud. And then, out of nowhere, the theatre fills with the sounds of Washington High School's marching band. As a kid, I jumped out of my seat.
When Danny and I had kids, exposing them to the classics of twentieth century musical theater seemed very natural. As babies, the girls were listening to my dad sing South Pacific and Man of La Mancha. We had the Rodgers and Hammerstein collection on VHS. Follow that up with a little My Fair Lady and toss in all of the Disney classics and that makes for some pretty musical moments. They also watched The Music Man on a fairly regular basis as well.
In 1999, Danny, Sheila, the girls and I went to see Joseph. I did not know the music except that Sheila sang it for the better part of a school year. The production was local and incredible. Several years later, the kids and I would go to a traveling Broadway show and it paled in comparision.
Living in Des Moines, we are fortunate to have Broadway shows come through all of the time. Our most recent show was Rock of Ages. Ashlyn just saw Singing in the Rain in London and Danny, Ashlyn and I are going to see We Will Rock You, the rockopera based on the music of Queen.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for seeing the importance in getting us dressed up for a Sunday matinee of song on stage. Thank you, Dad for telling me to come watch Singing in the Rain. For telling me to just watch Donald O'Connor dance. You were right, there really is nothing like that. Thank you for having an extensive record collection that we were allowed to play. Most of all, thank you for making sure that we knew what the good stuff was when it came to movies and music.
And to the woman in London that had the good fortune to be educated by my daughter, it is all in how you are raised.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Planning
Danny and I are going to London in April. Ashlyn is already there and we will join her for ten days. We get to see her graduate from her fancy pants design school and then it is the three of us in London, Baby.
Ashlyn has been there since January and has already hit the town. She will be able to direct us towards some of what we definitely want to do and steer us clear of the tourist traps. Always the trooper, Ashlyn will go back to the sights with us!
Now here is the problem. Or problems. Problem number one is that I am trying to plan this trip with Danny. Danny is great to travel with. He carries the heavy bags. He lets me sleep on his shoulder. He... ok Danny is great to travel with. We always have a blast (except in Bamberg) when we travel but trying to get that guy to focus on the planning has definitely been a challenge.
We have ten days. Now the tour company rep thought that was a long time to be in London, but when I start flipping through my London to do book, I cannot figure out how to get it all in in ten days. So when I try to corner Danny on what and when we are going to do what and when, I usually get some sort of vague reply. Last time, I got a raised eyebrow and an "ok!". We got nothing planned.
So where do I start? I am asking for, begging for suggestions. I have a travel book. I have a list of sites saved in my favorites. I have time, but not a lot of it because before I know it, it will be April and I will still be trying to plan this trip. So...
Tomorrow I should buy a giant white board. I should sit Danny down at the dining room table and make him focus on this trip. I should.
Or I should just pack my bag and show up on Ashlyn's door step and let her show us the sights!
Ashlyn has been there since January and has already hit the town. She will be able to direct us towards some of what we definitely want to do and steer us clear of the tourist traps. Always the trooper, Ashlyn will go back to the sights with us!
Now here is the problem. Or problems. Problem number one is that I am trying to plan this trip with Danny. Danny is great to travel with. He carries the heavy bags. He lets me sleep on his shoulder. He... ok Danny is great to travel with. We always have a blast (except in Bamberg) when we travel but trying to get that guy to focus on the planning has definitely been a challenge.
We have ten days. Now the tour company rep thought that was a long time to be in London, but when I start flipping through my London to do book, I cannot figure out how to get it all in in ten days. So when I try to corner Danny on what and when we are going to do what and when, I usually get some sort of vague reply. Last time, I got a raised eyebrow and an "ok!". We got nothing planned.
So where do I start? I am asking for, begging for suggestions. I have a travel book. I have a list of sites saved in my favorites. I have time, but not a lot of it because before I know it, it will be April and I will still be trying to plan this trip. So...
Tomorrow I should buy a giant white board. I should sit Danny down at the dining room table and make him focus on this trip. I should.
Or I should just pack my bag and show up on Ashlyn's door step and let her show us the sights!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Happy Anniversary to Us!
Twenty two years today was a surprisingly warm and sunny Saturday. My mom was fretting for months that there would be an Iowa snowstorm and we would be left with piles of uneaten roast beef and au gratin potatoes. But I knew it would be ok. What else was I supposed to think? My mom had the dark cloud view covered so I took the rainbows and unicorns view. I would say rainbows and unicorns won!
I got the guy of my dreams, that is for certain. But the rest was an awful lot of compromise. All that talk about the wedding being for the bride and such didn't know Danny. He was all up in my planning business and frankly, I should have put my low heeled foot down and gotten my way. But circumstances being what they were, I thought I better include him because from the time we were engaged to two and a half months prior to the wedding, Danny and I were the only ones planning.
My mom and my dad were not overly enthused by my upcoming nuptials. In fact, I am pretty sure Mom thought the longer she ignored it, the sooner it would go away. Oddly, this was the one thing I was set on following through with, whether she helped or not. Lucky for me, my Aunt Mary Ellen, at Thanksgiving, shamed my mom into getting involved. After that, it was really quite wonderful to be doing wedding stuff with my mom.
Danny was set on having a very traditional wedding. I got a few wedding books, showed him a few ideas and was shot down at every turn of the page. I did not get my dream dress or my dream walk down the aisle song. Other than that, I didn't have a strong opinion on the rest of it. My parents insisted on a Mass. My friend, a former bridal consultant insisted that my dress be true white so it didn't clash with Danny's dress blues belt. My sisters insisted on a non bridesmaidy bridesmaid dress. All of these things were fine by me.
The Mass turned out to be the one hour that I was center stage, Danny and my first meal together and Danny's First Communion. Mom was right on that one. I snuck in my favorite childhood church song, Let There Be Peace on Earth. We had the very common reading from 1 Corinthians 13:13, you know the one about faith, hope and love. The greatest of these is love. We have certainly taken that reading to heart over the years. Faith, hope and love are present every single day in this union.
The dress was my second choice. Choice number one was from the Beautiful Girl song scene in Singing in the Rain. Do you remember the flapper style wedding dress with 1.2 miles of tulle train? That was what I wanted to get married in. Instead, I got married in the top selling wedding dress pattern of 1926. I wore my mother in law's veil as my own mom's veil was too yellow. I had a handkerchief from my Grandma Snow and my garter was made for the fabric from my great grandmother's wedding dress on my mother's side. So there was my new dress, borrowed veil, old handkerchief and garter. I also wore a blue garter, that seems to be the only blue option.
The wedding march had always been the one from The Sound of Music. But how do you sell that to a guy that didn't even know the movie let alone understand all the emotions tied to that song. How could Danny had known that I married the Captain on a weekly basis growing up? How could he understand that this was a logical choice for me to use? How could I understand that my traditional wedding guy would pick trumpet voluntary. How would I ever guess that Danny would make amends on this many years later!
My mom was stunning in a red suit. Danny's mom was as well in a purple suit. My sisters had simple black jersey dresses. I wore a hundred dollar polyester dress. Violet orchids. bold and cost effective. No professional photographer, but a very generous aunt and uncle. A pretty full church. Our dear friend Linda sang songs from Pete's Dragon and An American Tail. My Dad never gave me a kiss at the end of the aisle. Danny was so hoarse from boot camp that even I had trouble hearing him vow to be mine. Danny's best friends from high school stood up there with him. I don't think they realized exactly what was going on. A couple of kids playing wedding, and then playing house, and then war and then playing family.
Danny, I cannot begin to tell you how happy you have made me. And not just that smiling happy but that my heart is about to burst because I cannot fit anymore happy into it kind of happy. You have given me the world, well the nice parts of it anyway. You have loved me through the cuts and scars, even when I used them against you. You kept at it. Don't even get me started on these babies of ours. Who would have thought that the likes of you and me would have created the likes of Ashlyn, Hayley and Jacob. Those are our best works.
And look at what we have done. We have done ok, that is for sure.
I cannot imagine my life with anyone more perfect for me than you. Remember how I used to say that our Guardian Angels must have been best friends, well, I still say that. Wouldn't you agree...
I got the guy of my dreams, that is for certain. But the rest was an awful lot of compromise. All that talk about the wedding being for the bride and such didn't know Danny. He was all up in my planning business and frankly, I should have put my low heeled foot down and gotten my way. But circumstances being what they were, I thought I better include him because from the time we were engaged to two and a half months prior to the wedding, Danny and I were the only ones planning.
My mom and my dad were not overly enthused by my upcoming nuptials. In fact, I am pretty sure Mom thought the longer she ignored it, the sooner it would go away. Oddly, this was the one thing I was set on following through with, whether she helped or not. Lucky for me, my Aunt Mary Ellen, at Thanksgiving, shamed my mom into getting involved. After that, it was really quite wonderful to be doing wedding stuff with my mom.
Danny was set on having a very traditional wedding. I got a few wedding books, showed him a few ideas and was shot down at every turn of the page. I did not get my dream dress or my dream walk down the aisle song. Other than that, I didn't have a strong opinion on the rest of it. My parents insisted on a Mass. My friend, a former bridal consultant insisted that my dress be true white so it didn't clash with Danny's dress blues belt. My sisters insisted on a non bridesmaidy bridesmaid dress. All of these things were fine by me.
The Mass turned out to be the one hour that I was center stage, Danny and my first meal together and Danny's First Communion. Mom was right on that one. I snuck in my favorite childhood church song, Let There Be Peace on Earth. We had the very common reading from 1 Corinthians 13:13, you know the one about faith, hope and love. The greatest of these is love. We have certainly taken that reading to heart over the years. Faith, hope and love are present every single day in this union.
The dress was my second choice. Choice number one was from the Beautiful Girl song scene in Singing in the Rain. Do you remember the flapper style wedding dress with 1.2 miles of tulle train? That was what I wanted to get married in. Instead, I got married in the top selling wedding dress pattern of 1926. I wore my mother in law's veil as my own mom's veil was too yellow. I had a handkerchief from my Grandma Snow and my garter was made for the fabric from my great grandmother's wedding dress on my mother's side. So there was my new dress, borrowed veil, old handkerchief and garter. I also wore a blue garter, that seems to be the only blue option.
The wedding march had always been the one from The Sound of Music. But how do you sell that to a guy that didn't even know the movie let alone understand all the emotions tied to that song. How could Danny had known that I married the Captain on a weekly basis growing up? How could he understand that this was a logical choice for me to use? How could I understand that my traditional wedding guy would pick trumpet voluntary. How would I ever guess that Danny would make amends on this many years later!
My mom was stunning in a red suit. Danny's mom was as well in a purple suit. My sisters had simple black jersey dresses. I wore a hundred dollar polyester dress. Violet orchids. bold and cost effective. No professional photographer, but a very generous aunt and uncle. A pretty full church. Our dear friend Linda sang songs from Pete's Dragon and An American Tail. My Dad never gave me a kiss at the end of the aisle. Danny was so hoarse from boot camp that even I had trouble hearing him vow to be mine. Danny's best friends from high school stood up there with him. I don't think they realized exactly what was going on. A couple of kids playing wedding, and then playing house, and then war and then playing family.
Danny, I cannot begin to tell you how happy you have made me. And not just that smiling happy but that my heart is about to burst because I cannot fit anymore happy into it kind of happy. You have given me the world, well the nice parts of it anyway. You have loved me through the cuts and scars, even when I used them against you. You kept at it. Don't even get me started on these babies of ours. Who would have thought that the likes of you and me would have created the likes of Ashlyn, Hayley and Jacob. Those are our best works.
And look at what we have done. We have done ok, that is for sure.
USMC
Today is the 22nd anniversary of Danny graduating from MCRD. I did not go to his graduation. Mainly because my mom could not stand the pressure of me being across country the day before my wedding. I am sorry that I didn't go (though considering the circumstances it would have be foolish!) because I would have like to have been there when it all began. I guess it actually began in November when Danny left for boot camp, but the 9th of February made it official.
Ah, the military life, posh posh military life, the military life for us! It all began on that day in February. Well, it actually began the next day when we became a family. We became something more than ourselves. Rather, Danny became something more and I just went along for the ride. Oh, my time would come when I would buckle down on the home front, and I don't make light of that at all. Being a military spouse is serious business and we take our role seriously and proudly. But I wouldn't understand that for a few more months.
I cannot speak for Danny. I do not know how those DI's got in his head, but I know he came out the other side a better man. Something happened in Boot Camp that could have not happened anywhere else. I don't know what it was, but for twenty two years, I have watched that thing in action. Sometimes, that thing drives me crazy, like when he has to redo his police uniform a couple of times because it just isn't right. But most of the time, it just makes me so proud.
When he taught kickboxing, the Marine definitely came out. His voice would change, the pronunciation of words would change, we would all sweat and somehow, Danny would be laughing through it all. He even lead Hayley's soccer team in pre game warm ups a time or two and that voice would come out. They were not a big fan of that voice.
Danny is retired now. But a great deal of the military, the marine, the soldier, is still in him. I appreciate that they taught him how to keep his head and ass down. I appreciate that he learned to clear a room, to weigh the situation, to get out of there alive. I know that those skills are with him every night on the streets of Des Moines. I know that all those skills would have been taught to him by the different police academies that he attended, but the military afforded him live, hands on training. I am grateful for that in a twisted sort of way. When push comes to whatever is next in his line of defenses, I am glad to know that he knows exactly what to do.
The Marine Corps with its sunny Southern California bases and the Army with its' overseas locales. We were lucky. We had the time of our lives on Uncle Sam's dime. And I mean that dime quite literally looking over back tax forms. We struggled, as everyone does, but most of the time, it was pretty damn great.
I remember, after Danny was out of active duty and was in the Reserves, meeting up with a bunch of husbands and wives that did not have the same type of background as we did. They had college degrees and professional type jobs, doctors and lawyers and such. Those men were drooling as they listened to Danny tell stories of guns, helicopters, blowing stuff up. Yeah, most days, Danny went to work smiling. That says something.
I cannot believe that it was twenty two years ago that that very skinny, very hoarse, very sick Marine came off the plane. And less than twenty four hours later, I was his.
Ah, the military life, posh posh military life, the military life for us! It all began on that day in February. Well, it actually began the next day when we became a family. We became something more than ourselves. Rather, Danny became something more and I just went along for the ride. Oh, my time would come when I would buckle down on the home front, and I don't make light of that at all. Being a military spouse is serious business and we take our role seriously and proudly. But I wouldn't understand that for a few more months.
I cannot speak for Danny. I do not know how those DI's got in his head, but I know he came out the other side a better man. Something happened in Boot Camp that could have not happened anywhere else. I don't know what it was, but for twenty two years, I have watched that thing in action. Sometimes, that thing drives me crazy, like when he has to redo his police uniform a couple of times because it just isn't right. But most of the time, it just makes me so proud.
When he taught kickboxing, the Marine definitely came out. His voice would change, the pronunciation of words would change, we would all sweat and somehow, Danny would be laughing through it all. He even lead Hayley's soccer team in pre game warm ups a time or two and that voice would come out. They were not a big fan of that voice.
Danny is retired now. But a great deal of the military, the marine, the soldier, is still in him. I appreciate that they taught him how to keep his head and ass down. I appreciate that he learned to clear a room, to weigh the situation, to get out of there alive. I know that those skills are with him every night on the streets of Des Moines. I know that all those skills would have been taught to him by the different police academies that he attended, but the military afforded him live, hands on training. I am grateful for that in a twisted sort of way. When push comes to whatever is next in his line of defenses, I am glad to know that he knows exactly what to do.
The Marine Corps with its sunny Southern California bases and the Army with its' overseas locales. We were lucky. We had the time of our lives on Uncle Sam's dime. And I mean that dime quite literally looking over back tax forms. We struggled, as everyone does, but most of the time, it was pretty damn great.
I remember, after Danny was out of active duty and was in the Reserves, meeting up with a bunch of husbands and wives that did not have the same type of background as we did. They had college degrees and professional type jobs, doctors and lawyers and such. Those men were drooling as they listened to Danny tell stories of guns, helicopters, blowing stuff up. Yeah, most days, Danny went to work smiling. That says something.
I cannot believe that it was twenty two years ago that that very skinny, very hoarse, very sick Marine came off the plane. And less than twenty four hours later, I was his.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Play Nice
I cannot play nice. I cannot not say bad things about my fellow person. Oh, I try. I really do. Sometimes, I will have a spurt of two or three hours of nothing but good thoughts then someone comes around me being catty, and just like that, the claws come out and I start the mean.
I am forty two years old. I am not in high school. I have no clique to belong to. Why is it so hard for me to be nice?
I know a lot of my problem is that I am terribly insecure. I have always been terribly insecure. I also went through a period of great jealousy. I work on those problems, but when I think about insecurities, I know that is a problem that goes way back and way deep.
I used to have a friend. She wasn't really a friend by definition because I don't think we really cared for each other. Our personalities clashed like the titans. I always felt like she felt judged by me and vice versa. The fact was, she had a lot of traits and talents that I admired. When I would tell her, I think she believed me, but she was equally insecure so that belief didn't last long. We aren't friends anymore, she has moved away and moved on. I wish that I could see her one more time just to let her know that I didn't always mean to be not nice.
At work, I am jealous that I don't have the natural talent to approach people, to sell them stuff, to be remembered by them. That is not my strength. My strength is the background stuff. My strength was in my old, done away with job. So part of my not being nice is just because I am forever pissed that I don't love my job.
I was nice today. And it really is easier to be that way. I should be happy that there is someone there with the talent to sell. I should encourage that. I should learn from that. It is no secret that a happy work environment is a more productive work environment.
I don't want my kids to grow up to be not nice. I don't want an insult to flash through their mind before a compliment. I don't want them to be like I am.
I think being snotty is a defense mechanism. If I don't make friends, then I don't lose friends. Funny how the insecurities from grade school, middle school and high school can stay with me all these years.
So here it is, just a couple weeks until Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is kind of like a second chance at failed resolutions. Anyway, traditionally, people give something up for Lent but this year I am going to add something, niceness. I am going to somehow replace every mental putdown with a verbal compliment. I am going to stop complaining and bitching and whiny and just be nice.
And I will probably stop running with scissors as well.
I am forty two years old. I am not in high school. I have no clique to belong to. Why is it so hard for me to be nice?
I know a lot of my problem is that I am terribly insecure. I have always been terribly insecure. I also went through a period of great jealousy. I work on those problems, but when I think about insecurities, I know that is a problem that goes way back and way deep.
I used to have a friend. She wasn't really a friend by definition because I don't think we really cared for each other. Our personalities clashed like the titans. I always felt like she felt judged by me and vice versa. The fact was, she had a lot of traits and talents that I admired. When I would tell her, I think she believed me, but she was equally insecure so that belief didn't last long. We aren't friends anymore, she has moved away and moved on. I wish that I could see her one more time just to let her know that I didn't always mean to be not nice.
At work, I am jealous that I don't have the natural talent to approach people, to sell them stuff, to be remembered by them. That is not my strength. My strength is the background stuff. My strength was in my old, done away with job. So part of my not being nice is just because I am forever pissed that I don't love my job.
I was nice today. And it really is easier to be that way. I should be happy that there is someone there with the talent to sell. I should encourage that. I should learn from that. It is no secret that a happy work environment is a more productive work environment.
I don't want my kids to grow up to be not nice. I don't want an insult to flash through their mind before a compliment. I don't want them to be like I am.
I think being snotty is a defense mechanism. If I don't make friends, then I don't lose friends. Funny how the insecurities from grade school, middle school and high school can stay with me all these years.
So here it is, just a couple weeks until Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is kind of like a second chance at failed resolutions. Anyway, traditionally, people give something up for Lent but this year I am going to add something, niceness. I am going to somehow replace every mental putdown with a verbal compliment. I am going to stop complaining and bitching and whiny and just be nice.
And I will probably stop running with scissors as well.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Tax Time
Oh, the most wonderful time of the year! Tax time. I do a fairly decent job of keeping track of papers throughout the year so when it is time to gather it all for the tax man, it is not so bad.
I have been filing taxes since 1986. My mom did my first few years. Once we were married, we could take advantage of the free tax service provided by the military. Later, we lucked into a friend that would do them for us. I babysat her daughter during tax season and we would trade a few hours for a tax return. She was great about helping me in those home business years. After we moved to West Des Moines, I was able to do ours myself with the help of online companies. But when Danny was working two, three, four and more jobs, it got to be too much for me.
Our first hired gun turned out to have some ethical issues. We found that out the year Ashlyn was in Iowa City. I was trolling the Des Moines Register late one night and came upon the headline that said our tax man was under investigation. Actually it was his wife, but still. So we found a new guy. This is our fourth year at this office and we have not been audited and he has not been in the newspaper.
Our first tax return as a married couple was in 1990. We earned a whopping $15, 456.00. I am not even sure how that is possible. It goes down from there! I did not work when the kids were little. The following year, Danny's taxable income was under $9000. He had housing assistance and combat pay that were not taxed, but still, how in the world did we live? What amazes me is the we paid $500 a month in rent. I suppose this is why I am still paying off credit cards from the early '90s!
The year Jacob was born, Danny was earning just $15,000. Living in military housing overseas, we did not have rent or utilities. I don't remember ever really struggling for money. But with three little ones, it had to be tight all the time.
In 1987, I made $1948.85 at the hardware store. That was such an awesome job. I got $5.42 refund that year. The following year I made an additional grand at the hardware store. Must have gotten a raise and picked up a few more hours. In 1989, I am making almost $6000. I was working two jobs at that point. Had a wedding to save for!
These early tax returns are just a few pieces of paper, a W-2, maybe a bank statement or two. Now, I take a folder with me. There are W-2's, stock stuff, 1099's, B-52s, 10-4 Good Buddy and a bunch of other crap. Though my stack of papers is nothing compared to what my parents would haul to the tax man. I don't ever want to be that grown up that a back brace is required to carry the paperwork into the building!
Well, this was unexpected. My mom filled out my 1987 tax return, I haven't seen her handwriting in a long time. Who would have thought doing my taxes would make me cry...
I have been filing taxes since 1986. My mom did my first few years. Once we were married, we could take advantage of the free tax service provided by the military. Later, we lucked into a friend that would do them for us. I babysat her daughter during tax season and we would trade a few hours for a tax return. She was great about helping me in those home business years. After we moved to West Des Moines, I was able to do ours myself with the help of online companies. But when Danny was working two, three, four and more jobs, it got to be too much for me.
Our first hired gun turned out to have some ethical issues. We found that out the year Ashlyn was in Iowa City. I was trolling the Des Moines Register late one night and came upon the headline that said our tax man was under investigation. Actually it was his wife, but still. So we found a new guy. This is our fourth year at this office and we have not been audited and he has not been in the newspaper.
Our first tax return as a married couple was in 1990. We earned a whopping $15, 456.00. I am not even sure how that is possible. It goes down from there! I did not work when the kids were little. The following year, Danny's taxable income was under $9000. He had housing assistance and combat pay that were not taxed, but still, how in the world did we live? What amazes me is the we paid $500 a month in rent. I suppose this is why I am still paying off credit cards from the early '90s!
The year Jacob was born, Danny was earning just $15,000. Living in military housing overseas, we did not have rent or utilities. I don't remember ever really struggling for money. But with three little ones, it had to be tight all the time.
In 1987, I made $1948.85 at the hardware store. That was such an awesome job. I got $5.42 refund that year. The following year I made an additional grand at the hardware store. Must have gotten a raise and picked up a few more hours. In 1989, I am making almost $6000. I was working two jobs at that point. Had a wedding to save for!
These early tax returns are just a few pieces of paper, a W-2, maybe a bank statement or two. Now, I take a folder with me. There are W-2's, stock stuff, 1099's, B-52s, 10-4 Good Buddy and a bunch of other crap. Though my stack of papers is nothing compared to what my parents would haul to the tax man. I don't ever want to be that grown up that a back brace is required to carry the paperwork into the building!
Well, this was unexpected. My mom filled out my 1987 tax return, I haven't seen her handwriting in a long time. Who would have thought doing my taxes would make me cry...
Sunday, February 5, 2012
The Help
I have just finished reading The Help and I wonder what I would have been like had a been a young woman of the early sixties. Would I have thought about equal rights? Would I have thought separate but equal? Or would I have believed that I was part of a superior race?
I would like to think that I would have been like Skeeter. A writer quietly trying to create something special. Skeeter seemed to be caught between wanting to treat blacks as equals, but maybe just not ready to cross that line in a big way. Even in the end when it gets hard for the maids, Skeeter gets out. She was brave, but not brave enough.
I know that I would have not been like Hilly. No one hangs on my every word, no one follows my example, no one would want me to be league president. But, I cannot say that I would not have been as narrow minded as she was. Living in the South and knowing no other way of life, I may have thought the way she did.
Celia definitely had a lot of qualities in her that I liked. She never pulled a status card. She considered Minny an employee not a servant and she also considered Minny a friend. If Minny would have been able to friend Celia back much sooner, both of their lives would have been so much better. I think Minny could have saved Celia a lot of heartache and could have stopped Celia from trying so hard with the league women.
Unfortunately though, I would probably have been somewhat like Elizabeth and a lot like all the other nameless women who hired black women as maids. I would have been a much better mom then Elizabeth, but I don't know if I would have been a better boss. I cannot see myself being brave. I cannot see myself taking such a chance to try to make a change when those people were so brutally put down.
Would I go up against men with baseball bats? Police with fire hoses and dogs? Soldiers? I doubt it. I have never stood for anything in my life so I don't know what makes me think I would have stood from something then.
The Help has definitely made me think about my backbone.
I would like to think that I would have been like Skeeter. A writer quietly trying to create something special. Skeeter seemed to be caught between wanting to treat blacks as equals, but maybe just not ready to cross that line in a big way. Even in the end when it gets hard for the maids, Skeeter gets out. She was brave, but not brave enough.
I know that I would have not been like Hilly. No one hangs on my every word, no one follows my example, no one would want me to be league president. But, I cannot say that I would not have been as narrow minded as she was. Living in the South and knowing no other way of life, I may have thought the way she did.
Celia definitely had a lot of qualities in her that I liked. She never pulled a status card. She considered Minny an employee not a servant and she also considered Minny a friend. If Minny would have been able to friend Celia back much sooner, both of their lives would have been so much better. I think Minny could have saved Celia a lot of heartache and could have stopped Celia from trying so hard with the league women.
Unfortunately though, I would probably have been somewhat like Elizabeth and a lot like all the other nameless women who hired black women as maids. I would have been a much better mom then Elizabeth, but I don't know if I would have been a better boss. I cannot see myself being brave. I cannot see myself taking such a chance to try to make a change when those people were so brutally put down.
Would I go up against men with baseball bats? Police with fire hoses and dogs? Soldiers? I doubt it. I have never stood for anything in my life so I don't know what makes me think I would have stood from something then.
The Help has definitely made me think about my backbone.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
not what I was going to write about
I didn't know what I was going to blog about tonight. I thought about Harlow, again. She brings me such happiness so often that I like to share it with the world. I thought about being kind, but luckily my lesson in being kind called in sick today. My blog might be about being kind tomorrow.
At tenish tonight, Hayley came into the house and let me know what my blog was going to be about. My blog is going to be about changing the mind.
Hayley moved back home in December and switched from UNI and life in the dorms to DMACC and life in the bedroom next to ours. Though our house is very fun, there are no pick up football games, theme bathroom stalls or taco bars in our dining facility. Oh, she is saving a ton of money. I think somewhere around seven thousand dollars. And that is great. But at what cost?
Watching Hayley this past month, I think the cost is pretty high. Hayley is going to class, she is working at Hy Vee, she is babysitting. Hayley is getting her homework done. She has taken up boxing in the basement. She goofs off with Jacob. But every night Hayley is on the computer with her friends from UNI.
So tonight Hayley decided to go back to UNI in the fall. And Danny and I are supporting this decision. We were proud that she was trying to save money. That was a very grown up decision to make but Hayley is not a grown up. She shouldn't have to make those decisions yet. Hell, Danny and I are in our forties and we don't want to make grown up money decisions.
I am glad that she is going back to UNI.
In four years, Hayley will be broke just like every other kid that is graduating from college. Her debt might be a little less then some of the others, but it is going to be there just the same. But Hayley will have four years of memories that money can't buy. And there is no other place in her life that will be like college.
So, in eight months, we will move Hayley back up to UNI. The bedroom that was going to be my room that is now Hayley's room will become the guest bedroom. Danny has already started framing my room in the basement and if you ever read my Facebook status's, then you already know how excited I am about this room!
Hayley made the comment tonight that "at least she tried". In that comment was a hint of failure but she didn't fail. Not at all. Hayley made a decision based on money and made a better decision based on her happiness. I call that success!
At tenish tonight, Hayley came into the house and let me know what my blog was going to be about. My blog is going to be about changing the mind.
Hayley moved back home in December and switched from UNI and life in the dorms to DMACC and life in the bedroom next to ours. Though our house is very fun, there are no pick up football games, theme bathroom stalls or taco bars in our dining facility. Oh, she is saving a ton of money. I think somewhere around seven thousand dollars. And that is great. But at what cost?
Watching Hayley this past month, I think the cost is pretty high. Hayley is going to class, she is working at Hy Vee, she is babysitting. Hayley is getting her homework done. She has taken up boxing in the basement. She goofs off with Jacob. But every night Hayley is on the computer with her friends from UNI.
So tonight Hayley decided to go back to UNI in the fall. And Danny and I are supporting this decision. We were proud that she was trying to save money. That was a very grown up decision to make but Hayley is not a grown up. She shouldn't have to make those decisions yet. Hell, Danny and I are in our forties and we don't want to make grown up money decisions.
I am glad that she is going back to UNI.
In four years, Hayley will be broke just like every other kid that is graduating from college. Her debt might be a little less then some of the others, but it is going to be there just the same. But Hayley will have four years of memories that money can't buy. And there is no other place in her life that will be like college.
So, in eight months, we will move Hayley back up to UNI. The bedroom that was going to be my room that is now Hayley's room will become the guest bedroom. Danny has already started framing my room in the basement and if you ever read my Facebook status's, then you already know how excited I am about this room!
Hayley made the comment tonight that "at least she tried". In that comment was a hint of failure but she didn't fail. Not at all. Hayley made a decision based on money and made a better decision based on her happiness. I call that success!
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