Lilac Season

 If you're from Iowa, then you know that lilac season is fleeting.  The sweet little lilac bubs start appearing early May, right around prom and the air is delightfully filled with the most lovely of scents and then it's gone.  Truly, just like that.  And we are left with an array of other blooms and scents and yet, we are still trying to capture that lilac moment.  We open candle jars and inhale deeply, only to replace the lid and say, no, that's not quite right.  And we browse the soap and lotion makers at the farmer's markets, hoping.  And all the while, we know that the lilac season can never be quite captured again.

Much like the little people dancing on my deck this gorgeous Monday morning.  We have a record playing, and there is a parade of toy dinosaurs watching the performance and we are excited for the day to get warmer so we can play in the sprinkler and this is another lilac season.

The oldest grand will be starting preschool in the fall.  She is ready to bloom and blossom.  She will grow and be beautiful and enrich the world, but I know that our lilac season will be over.  The sweet scent of her sweaty little noggin after naps, the sticky cheeks after a mickey waffle breakfast, the deep squats in the middle of a stroll to study the path of an ant.  These moments, these lilacs are fading.  

And we have been so lucky to have this extended season.  We have spent three to four days a week with these blooms since nearly the beginning.  We are just down the road, not across the state, or country, or ocean.  We have been able to enjoy every aspect of this season and we will continue to be present for each season that comes.  But I know these days are something extra special and I am really trying to soak up this summer, these magnificent moments which right now include eating blue suckers and while watching a big ant traverse the sticks on the deck while listening to Disney music while the dinosaurs keep watch.  

  

 

Kind of Like Writing

 I have not written in years.  Years of missed opportunities to capture how I was feeling about a particular event or about nothing in particular.  My days had gotten busier, for sure.  No longer working a common job, I now work with the delights of my life, my grands.  Oh, and trying to weave another rug in every free moment I get.  But there's a yard I want to tend, photos I want to organize, a recipe to try, a room to paint.  And the therapy I want to explore and the degree I want to pursue.  Did I mention there was also a body that I want to keep healthy and a relationship that I do not want to take for granted.  

I keep telling myself that I just need to get my time organized and the more I say that, the worse my organization gets.  I create these elaborate ideas of how to fill my day and crawl into bed feeling that nothing was accomplished.  I know that I am not alone in this.  I know that my expectations are unreasonable and also, are dumb.  

My wants are getting simpler.  I want to crawl into bed each night full of gratitude, knowing that I did the best I could do that day.  I don't want to spend any of my days regretting what was.  Because spending that time on regret keeps me from being in this moment which will lead to more regret!  Holy shit!!! That's a breakthrough!   

This blog is a diary of sorts, an easier method to read about what I was feeling on a particular event or about nothing in particular, just wanting to hear the clicks of the keys.  It may become a place for my grands to come to know me better if I don't stay around for a long time.  It's also a place for me to see how my thoughts have changed, how I may have grown and changed.  

I noticed that I had several blogs that I never published.  They were full of thoughts I couldn't or wouldn't finish.  I deleted those and I delete the expectations in my mind that are keeping me from doing what I enjoy doing when I am not doing what I need to be doing.  

So anyway, the purpose of today's blog post is simple, I'm doing just fine and I am right where I am supposed to be, unpainted walls and all.  

I hope you are happy with where you are and that you know that you are where you ought to be in this moment and You get to chose where you take your heart next!

An Agnostic All the Time

 I don't know when I made the choice to be agnostic.  I've struggled for years, 38 at least, with my faith and the trickle down to my religion.  I've written about the struggle before.  I've written about the comfort and the grief I have found in believing in a god and following a religion.  And now, I write about being comfortable in my agnosticism and knowing that not following or believing has not lessened me as a human.

I was baptized into Catholicism within two weeks of my birth.  My parents raised me solidly in the church.  I attended mass when I was big enough to sort of behave and I attended catholic school first through twelfth grade.  I have very positive memories of my time at Immaculate Conception school.  The school closed at the end of my third year there.  That was a blow.  The school was later sold and torn down.  It was not only a grand school building but also where the Parish bazaars were held and losing that tradition was very difficult.  I associated being catholic with the group of people my parents associated with.  Theirs was a group of families with a lot of kids that all played sports together, were in the same classes, lived on the same streets.  When IC school closed, that changed.  I was angry that I didn't get to be a greyhound, coached by my dad and Mr. Derby.  St. Matthew's, my new school wasn't old, it was different families, the church was not as beautiful as Immaculate Conception.  It was at St. Matthew's that I went through instruction for Confirmation with my classmates, my friends.  At that time, the parish priest at IC decided that parishioners that attended other schools would need to attend RE at IC and received the sacrament a year later.  That was maybe the first time I saw the politics of religion.  I was angry that the parents didn't fight for us to make the sacrament with our friends.  I was angry that we had to repeat instruction, losing our Wednesday nights and sometimes Saturdays.  My attitude did not improve for a great many years.  Anyone that attended high school with me could attest to that.

I returned to church when the parish was assigned a new priest.  I took my boyfriend to mass because he wanted to learn more about the church he had been baptized in but never attended.  We were married with a full mass.  When we move to California, I looked for a church to attend but without my mom reminding me to go to church, I never kept up with the habit.  I watched midnight mass on TV, but that is as close as I came to going to church.  After our daughters were born, we baptized them but when we were away from Cedar Rapids, never stayed consistent with mass.  When we moved to Germany, there was no shortage of catholic churches, big and old and beautiful with the mass spoke in another language.  We visited plenty of churches but again, did not attend mass regularly as the closest English speaking mass was about a half hour away, and on a Sunday morning with three kinder, getting there was more miss than hit.  Obviously, attending mass and building that community was never a true priority for me.

Returning to Cedar Rapids was an easy return to the habit of mass at Immaculate Conception seeing so many of those same families, knowing the pastor as a priest from my grade school days, getting involved, feeling a sense of belonging.  The kinder were enrolled in St. Matthew's.  Sacraments were made.  It all felt familiar and comforting and right.  Then we moved again, and we searched for a new church, again.  And we found a truly wonderful, welcoming place in St. Francis.  We got involved.  More sacraments were made.  The girls and I taught religious education.  I retreated, joined book clubs, made these wonderful friends but still, was not going regularly.  

And then the news was filled with the dark, dirty secrets about the Church's cover up and protection of predator priests.  The movie Spotlight, released in 2015, along with so many other special reports and exposes revealed this dark, disgusting practice of protecting men that preyed upon children, over and over again.  The church paid millions to victims and that money came from the millions of faithful tithers that gave willingly and without question.  Many giving from tight budgets, never expecting that their money was used in such an evil way.  Even though my diocese did not have any evidence of abuse or cover up in my lifetime, I wanted my money back.  I felt betrayed.  And when the church never owned their sins, I felt finished.  There was no place to be within the Church.  I know it was a minority of priests, I know that the majority of clergy took their vows to be part of a community to help and minister.  I know that my parish was not responsible and that the priests that I knew probably felt the same kind of betrayal and disgust.  Regardless, it didn't feel like a place I wanted to be any longer.

Plus, I am pro choice and pro marriage between any two consenting adults,  those two opinions are not very Catholic though I imagine that many Catholics share my opinion about marriage.

So, what did I believe?  Where did I practice?  What box did I check on a survey?  

Oddly, I still get very defensive about Catholicism.  I still take issue with Martin Luther and his desire to ruin perfectly beautiful buildings.  Though I cannot completely disagree with his disgust with many of the practices that were common within the church in the 1500s.  But still.  

What did I believe?  Well, based on the emotions I had after my mom died, I had to believe in heaven because I was so sure that she was there.  So if I believed in heaven, then I had to believe in God.

  Right?  There is a difference in believing in something and having a belief in something.  So, do I think there is a god?  Yeah, I suppose I do.  Do I think he's a gigantic jerk?  Yeah, I do.  Do I believe in Jesus?  I want to, because he seems like the kind of being I want to have faith in?  He has been depicted as kind, without a lot of judgement.  He often had practical solutions to issues that plagued the day (like plagues, oh, wait that's his dad).   But also, what I know about the man was written several years after his death and was written by humans.  I did a google search to see when the gospels were written and there were so many different answers from addresses that ended in blog, org, com and edu.  So many interpretations  and opinions out there and I don't know what is true, and also, I don't know that it matters.  Belief is different than truth.  Isn't it?  The American band The Eagles are a great, iconic American band.  I think we can all agree that that is true but it is my belief that they suck because their videos interfered with me seeing the videos I wanted to see on Night Trax circa 1984.  I rest my case.

If god is love and gave humans the capacity to love but also gave humans the capacity to love members of their own sex, why in the name of god do people say it goes against god to love that way?  I think homosexuality is brought up in the bible because homosexuality was practiced within society in Roman times and the bible writers wanted to separate themselves from the Romans.  I realize there is a lot more to it than that, but my point being, should the old testament be the guiding force one uses to look down upon a nurturing love being two consenting adults?  The old testament suggested killing your baby to show god you loved him was an okay thing to do.  Today, we would realize that that is not an ok thing to do.  But folks are still going to point to the OT to do their intolerant bidding.  We are required to take some of the teachings in context and some are universal and some are a compelling story for the evidence of aliens, and that is a topic for another day.

So, what to I believe?  I don't know.  I know I don't need a book or a building or a body to worship.   I know I don't need to worship.  I know there are some really very beautiful ideas inside the books, not just the ones that Christians read, but probably most other religious books as well.   And I can use those as tools to lead a better life here, not as an end goal to get to heaven.  Besides, I have screwed up enough in life to know that my entrance into heaven is not a given.  So I'd be better to be better for this life I am leading here.  And shouldn't we be kind and good and love not because the bible tells us so but because it is the humane way to be?  Shouldn't our actions be a reflection of who we want to be, not as notches on our get into heaven belt?  Are you good because god wants you to be and if you didn't believe in god, you would be an asshole?  Is that it?    

Your faith is a beautiful thing for you.  I would never want you to lose that, question that or try to show me that I should have faith as well.  I did have faith and got sucker punched in the process.  And I am happy to be on the other side of faith.  I am not nearly as disappointed as I once was, or confused or angry.  I still attend mass on occasion for weddings and will always believe that a Catholic funeral mass is one of the very best send offs there is.  Probably right up there with a Raveragers or Viking funeral.  As I stated earlier, I still get defensive about the catholic faith and think the rest are knock offs.  But the rest didn't cover up the rape of thousands of children so there is that.  

You are still going to find a lot of crosses in my house (a collection that was started when I still believed) and there is even a crucifix and a few rosaries.  I will even say the rosary from time to time because I think Mary is a good ally to have as are many of the saints.  I know they work for God or Jesus and I don't, but I still find that I like to have them in my corner.  St. Francis is going to keep an eye on my pup regardless.  I am still putting up my collection of nativities at Christmas.  I am still celebrating Christmas and Easter because I want to and other than the nativities, all my décor and traditions are pretty pagan anyway.  

But here's the thing, a believer or follower or worshiper or not, I am still going to be kind, be a steward, not covet my neighbor's ass, I am probably not going to kill, I am going to take names in vain, often.  I am still going to be a lot of the things that are associated with following Jesus, I am just not going to follow Jesus.  I don't believe I disagree with any of His ideas, I just think I am going to need a little less talk and a lot more action from him if I am going to go down that road again.  

A Pandemic Introspective

 So, yeah, a year of masks and social distancing and take out and online orders and so many opinions.  And here we are on the sort of other side of it.  Many vaccinated, many not.  Many still following the best advice they were given, many others following the best advice they were given.  Many, too many, still mourning, always mourning those that they lost in this past pandemic year either because of the virus, because of the effects of the isolation, because of the shut downs, because of the other crisis' that happened in these past twelve months.  Many still, caught up in the decisiveness of it all, unable to see the humanity in it all.  

I have come through to this other side tremendously grateful.  Grateful that those I love managed to stay healthy even though they were often in very high risk situations.  Grateful that because of my best job, I was able to not return to the higher risk job.  I had just shifted to working three days a week as the shut downs began.  Not thinking that they would last as long as they did, I went ahead with the plan to work just on Sundays as Monday through Wednesday was spent with a little gal and Thursdays and Fridays were to be spent at the loom to create stock for the spring and summer shows.  Well, those spring shows were cancelled and those summer shows were resting precariously on thin ice.  We weighed the benefits of not returning to retail position with the potential loss in income if shows did not return.  The benefit of not exposing myself to the virus and keeping the little gal safe was all that mattered.  And as it turned out, summer shows did return and people bought rugs, quite a lot of them.  Grateful that as a family, we easily saw that limiting my exposure, especially in the beginning, was the right move.

Then Hayley was directed to work from home so I shifted from having the little gal come to me and I went to her.  It definitely added more to my "work" day and in return, I was able to see more of my daughter in general, we had lunch together three times a week.  I was also able to see more of my daughter being a mama and that was really quite amazing.  Because Hayley's work day was shorter without the commute, she got more time with her baby and how great is that.  I know that so many people didn't get that or the time they got was so stressful because of online learning etc.  that is why I am so grateful that we got what we got when we got it!

I am grateful that my other two children were able to navigate this pandemic year the best they could.  But knowing that they lost out on opportunity that may not come again is frustrating.  Hoping that as the world opens back up, it opens widely for them.  I suspect that they will take full advantage when advantages are safe.  Grateful that we were able to see one, often from the prescribed distance as he navigated through the fun game of is it allergies, is it COVID?  It was never COVID.  Grateful that we were able to see the other just a couple of times as she diligently respected her own city's mandates that were stricter than ours.  It was hard knowing she was just an interstate road trip away and yet, there was no getting there.

I am grateful for the time I was given to dive deep into my own thoughts and realizations.  I was able to make sense of a lot of my emotions and opinions.  I was able to find answers to questions that I had never asked before.  Growing up in a life with four TV channels, with the Five O'Clock news being my one and only source of information, it is easy for me to see why I was completely ignorant of the depth of racism.   I was a self absorbed teen of the 80s, a young mom in the 90s, it wasn't like I was going to go to the library to research a subject that I did not know existed.  So this time free from a lot of obligations gave me the opportunity to educate myself.  I am still very ignorant, but trying, right.  I am not so prone to knee jerk responses.  I am not so prone to keeping social media contacts that aren't good for me in some way.  I am much more aware of the fact that I cannot undo what has been done, that I am responsible for myself and my action and I can be on the best side of history.  And, no, you will probably never see me out there marching for a cause, but there are many, many ways to not remain complicit.  

I know this pandemic year that people parted from me over differing views and that could have happened in any year over any circumstance.  I am not easy!  I learned several years ago, that the parting of ways, though often painful, is okay.  

I regret that I never took advantage of long walks in nature preserves or that I did not devour a stack of books.  I don't regret that most of my binge television was of a light weight subject matter.  I regret that I did not strive to maintain an exercise schedule, am surprised that I only gained 5 pounds.  I did not take up knitting or baking or growing a victory garden.  I did not hoard toilet paper or hand sanitizer.  I did not order food from a local business regularly.  I did decorate my front door.  I did participate in ZOOM calls.  I found my admiration of Dolly Parton to increase and my dissatisfaction with a great number of other public figures to increase as well.  

I have come out on the almost other side of this pandemic with a streamlined Instagram that only follows a few friends, good news sites, dogs and small business owners.  I will gladly go down the internet rabbit hole of heart warming stories, videos and the like.  I have tried to silence my political voice on Facebook.  I have tried to share the good and kind and silly.  I have tried to smile with my eyes whenever I see someone that looks like they are struggling, and some days that feels like everyone.  And though I cannot undo my past, I can and do challenge myself to do better.  I believe, more than ever, that kindness is a real and vital tool in making this other side a worthy place to be. 

These Sneakers are made for Walking

 I've just returned from a 5.42 mile walk around town.  Well, not really around town, around the neighborhood and neighboring neighborhood.  It was a bit brisk at times, but as we like to say this time of year, not bad when you're in the sun.  

It's that time of year when I recommit to walking.  The snow has melted, there is more daylight and it is so good to be outside when spring is starting to push through.  I usually have earphones in, 80s pop playing.  It's fair to say that I am stuck, musically at least, in this era because it's the best.  No debate.  Today, Belinda Carlisle's Mad About You played and that is an immediate return to the summer of 1986 when I walked to Bever Park three or four evenings a week.  Up Grand Avenue, through the park to get in some hills and then back home by way of Blake Boulevard.  There's a fair chance that I had a really cool mixed tape in my Walkman.  Billy Idol certainly was on there as was Duran Duran, Pet Shop Boys and OMD.  Walking was the only regular exercise I did.  When I had my long period of grounding, walking was the only activity that I could do other than work.  My dear dad took pity on me and let me have that.  Again, up Grand, through the park, back down Blake.  I never strayed from that route, knowing that if Dad came looking for me and I wasn't there, another few weeks would be tacked on, neither of us wanted that.

When Danny and I moved to Cali, we were a one car couple, Danny driving to work each day and I walked to the Home Depot, the strip mall stores and eventually the Carlsbad mall to get a job!  It amazed me at how unfriendly the area was to walkers.  Many streets did not have sidewalks, intersections were huge and getting across on a light was a challenge.  And air quality, not something I ever thought of in Iowa, was now a concern.  But my need for waking was short lived as Danny deployed and I had the car.  After the babies came, walking was less for exercise and walking became more strolling, looking at bugs, smelling flowers, picking up rocks.  We were primarily in Cedar Rapids then and we were back in walking friendly neighborhoods.

And then we moved to Europe where walking is made easy, is expected and is delightful.  Still not really walking for exercise, but pushing a stroller on cobblestone was exercise.  We lived up town and to get downtown, we walked down the hill.  The kinder were still in the waving phase so we either annoyed or delighted all the folks we passed.  We had ample opportunity for ice creams and gyros.  There were always fountains to stick hands in, dogs to see, rose gardens to wander through.  We were so spoiled that every city was at our feet.  I don't think we even realized the miles we covered on an average excursion, the girls often walking up the hills right along with us, Jacob, was either in me or on Danny's back.  Six weeks before Jacob was born, the girls, Danny and I climbed up the minor mountain at the site of the 1936 winter Olympics, luckily, I had an eager Rottweiler to pull me along.  Living in a world that encourages walking, that lays wide paths, has multiple snack stations, keeps nature clean was such a joy and it was difficult to return to a car dependent city.

Now I walk primarily for exercise and not as a means to go to the store etc.  I periodically will have no drive days and if I want to go out, I walk.  But to walk to the grocery store, I am required to cross several busy streets that have multiple turn lanes and walk lights that are not sufficient to get across.  There is sidewalk on only one side, it is hectic and not at all enjoyable.  Air quality comes to mind .  If I go in the opposite direction, I can walk to a small shopping center that is not on a congested path.  I wear a backpack and am limited to purchasing only what I can carry. I have yet to commit to a rolling pull bag that the shoppers in Germany used so many years ago, but I have considered it.  When we lived in Germany, we would go shopping with the double stroller, never buying more than we could push home!  

Now I walk primarily for clarity of mind.  Even with 80s hits playing in my ears, I can clear my mind.  I can sort through the day's and week's events.  I can clarify my thoughts, mold my opinions and qualify my emotions.  An average 5 mile walk takes me over an hour.  That is an hour that I cannot access social media, cannot scroll through the news, cannot read an email or text message or even answer the phone.  Sadly, I don't always have that kind of will power on my own, but the walk forces it from me.  I may replay conversations in my head, which is not particularly healthy, but I also have the power to literally walk away from that negative moment.  I can turn off my Pandora and repeat my own mantra that matches the steps I take.  I can switch to a jog or even a run to speed up my positivity or to outdistance the negativity.  

Walks are powerful places to escape as I did when I was grounded, to explore as we did in Europe or to bring me figuratively home as they do now.  With Nora, walks again have become less for exercise and more strolling, looking at bugs, smelling flowers, picking up rocks.  We can also add waving at planes, saying hi to the mail carrier, watching the boys play basketball, mooching a tree and pointing out the kitty tracks in the dried cement.  And these type of walks are equally good at providing clarity of mind.  What gets you out?  What clears your mind?  What keeps you moving?  I am grateful that I found one activity that provides all these benefits.  

Kind of Like Writing Revisited

 I have not written in months, almost a year now.  There really hasn't been a reason for the absence, I guess I didn't think I had anything to say.  But, when I look at my husband's face after I have not shut up for twenty straight minutes, I realized that I still have something to say.  I Started this blog so that if dementia ever caught me, there would still be a record for me to revisit, for my kinder or grandkinder to visit, to know me better.  This blog has been a safe place for me to say something.

I am fifty one now and I would like to address the new saying that 50 is the new 30.  It isn't. 50 is 50 and it is what ever it is for you.  It certainly isn't going to be bikini photos on the beach showing off my rock hard abs because I don't have rock hard abs. I have soft, pillow like abs.  All the better for Hattie to snuggle against!  It isn't going to be updating my Linkedin with new career opportunities, well, because I don't have a Linkedin.  It also isn't going to be me going through my closet getting rid of whatever clothes have been deemed too young, too trendy, too whatever, because I am going o wear whatever I want.  I never understood why women felt like they needed to cover up their legs as they got older.  I guess I am not flexible enough to see the spider veins running rampant on the backs of my knees.  I also know that I am not giving a damn.  Who has time or energy to care about the veins on someone's legs.  Or the size of their muffin top or the number of greys on their head?  If all of that comes with being older, I will take it over being dead.  That's not to say I won't try to avoid the muffin top or won't continue to color or style my hair.  It means that I am not interested in the views that someone else may hold that are meant to diminish me in some way.  

Also, I was a pretty frequent participant in the diminish someone else game and I would like to apologize for my petty behavior.  I will tell you that I made fun of, belittled and put down people because I was jealous of them, I had low self esteem and I was an asshole.  Mostly an asshole.  I still have low self esteem but am much less of an asshole so I can honestly say I was mostly as asshole.  There's no going back and fixing all of those hurtful, shitty words and deeds.  I actually spent some serious thought on that yesterday on my first walk of the year!  If I were still a church goer, I could go to confession.   I do miss confession.  Woolworth is long out of business so there's no paying them back for the striped mini skirt I stole.  The guy who lived in the first house on Park, he's long dead, I can't apologize to him for fucking with his decorative fence nearly every day.  These offences (and plenty more) just hang in my soul, using up energy.  How do I purge myself of the shittiness that I was?  

Speaking of shittiness, a few years ago, I had a huge falling out with someone that had always been in my life.  That's a weird thing to have happen.  It sucked at the time and took me a long time to reckon with it.  Ashlyn said to me that there are consequences for my actions.  Consequences aren't always negative. Those consequences included other people leaving my life as well but also me really acknowledging who I was and who I was pretending to be.  I think I am much more me now, and this is obviously where I am supposed to be in my fifty first year so it's all good.  The last thing I said to this person was kind.  For that I am glad.  One less amend I have to make, right!  

There is no reason to keep up a part of your life that is painful or hurtful or does not being you joy or fulfillment or whatever.  You can change your mind, your heart, your address, your career, your last name, your first name, your identity and you don't have to explain it.  Ashlyn reminded me of this as well.  When she said that, it hit me that I expect an explanation when people don't follow through.  And well, that's stupid.  I am not owed nor do I owe an explanation for almost anything.  I think about the times at my job that I was going to become an assistant manager or switch to the pharmacy and then something else happened or didn't happen and I didn't become an assistant manager and I didn't transition to the pharmacy.  And now, I work four hours a week at a place that once was my career.  And it's cool and no one needs to know more than that.  Almost all the decisions I make really don't affect anyone else except my husband and maybe my kinder.  

So, that all felt good.  It felt good to have a place to speak.  It feels good to put these thoughts down, like this blog is my diary.  Doogie Howser did it.  We all tuned in for that.  I don't expect anyone to tune in for this, but thanks if you do.  I know I am not alone in trying to figure out how to be 51, to be kind in an often hostile place, to be better than I was, to be at peace with my choices.  I know I am not alone in feeling like everyone else has it together, and is judging me because I don't.  But also, I know that is not the case.  Most of us are decent, we want people to be successful in life, to find joy, to be happy.  Maybe that is where this blog is headed, to focus on success, joy and happiness.  

Anyway, thanks for reading along, I appreciate you.  

On December 2nd of last year I started watching my granddaughter for three days a week.  In February, I reduced my work week by another day so that I could start creating inventory for a summer farmer's market.  I have been social distancing for a few months now.  The new increased levels of distancing aren't really effecting me much.  I am still seeing the same few faces on a regular basis as these people have essential jobs which means I am essential (for baby care) as well.  

I have also been a military spouse and that gives you a preparedness for most anything.  I have also lived with a grounded Jacob, that too, gives you a preparedness for most anything else.

I have already checked off items on my to do list that I would be doing now.  But I still have so many projects I would like to finish or give up on entirely.  There are books to read and shows to binge on.  I have recipes to make and sewing projects to finish after 50 years.  And in a month or so, I will have flowers to plant and gardens to grow.  It will be okay for me.  And I believe that it will be okay for the rest of us as well.  

Let people grieve for what they are losing because these are moments we will not get back.   Let the seniors mourn the loss of those last precious days of ruling the school.  Of getting out early and for a few moments, not having a care.  If you are the class of 2019 or older, you know what I am talking about.  Those were the finest days of freedom and after 13 years of learning, they are well deserved.  Don't diminish the graduates sadness and pain.  It is real and valid.

Let people grieve the missed concerts and performances.  The ones they bought tickets to see and more so, the ones that they will not get to perform.  Those opportunities may not come again.  In  the world of the arts, I imagine it is a lot of talent and a lot more luck to reach a stage.  And even if it is the stage at the local bar, let them grieve this lost opportunity.

The games not played, the Olympics not competed in, the races not run are all real hurts that we should not make light of.  For so many people, not even going to the gym is a real hardship.  Be kind when they express worry about getting lethargic or find it hard to be motivated alone at home.  

I am disappointed that The Broadway Series has been postponed and probably cancelled.  I want to see the new movies in the theater with kettle korn and a giant coca cola.  I wanted to watch my son stick a nail in his nose on a stage.  Yeah, I can see all these things in my living room, and I will, I just wanted the stage, the screen, to hear the moans as he licked the nail off.  

So, be kind and let people express their sorrow.  It is real.  It should be acknowledged.  

I started listening to NPR in mid February when Italy was just getting it.  I listened too much.  By the beginning of March, I had made myself so anxious.  I was having crazy dreams.  I was wondering if it would anyone would call bullshit on me if I started praying again.  I did, so didn't.  I wanted to stock up on toilet paper and bottled water and convince my kids to hunker down in the spare places in our home.  I thought about the emergency kit I had in SoCal in case of earthquakes and wondered why I never made one here for tornadoes and coronaviruses.  I needed a good old fashioned "snap out of it" slap.  

I got back on the loom.  I put in Disney movies and the baby kept coming (her parents are both still working essentially).  And I calmed my shit down.  I bought a reasonable amount of groceries, except for malt balls and chocolate stars, there is no reasonable amount of those.  I bought Costco amounts of diapers because they had a box in stock and I called it good.  

And here we are, truly in the first week of it as everyone has returned from spring break, the non essentials are closed and the case and fatality numbers are rising.  I am taking it seriously, and I think that I always have.  I am sheltering in place except for the two days I work.  I am wiping down door knobs, light switches and phone screens.  I have been washing hands since December 2nd.  I am of relative good health and believe that I would survive an infection.  I don't care to find out though.  

So what to do for the next month to six months, because we don't really know how long we need to be sheltered in place, be grateful.  I have not been grateful enough in this life.  Be productive.  I plan to take care of all those little projects that have been laying around taking up space and joy.  An if the project remains when we are free to roam the street again, I am throwing it out!   I have been sending out postcards.  I have been cleaning out closets.  I have been, as of today, going on walks.  And as soon as the yard waste trucks come by, I will be in the yard.  I will celebrate every little bud that pushes through and every bird that has survived the winter and is creating a home in my yard.  I will make more rugs the world has floors for and hope that people will buy them, someday.

I hope that the tourism board in Venice, Italy decides that they are going to continue to take care of their city and curb tourism.  They are going to see the value of clean waters and let their city find a healthier way to share its beauty and warmth.  I hope China finds a way to keep the air pollution levels lower as it has been during their quarantine.  Maybe they need to start saying no to making the junk of the world.  That may close a factory or two.  And in that vein, the world needs to stop buying the junk of the world.  In America, hospitals and medical facilities need to look at purchasing from American businesses so that in the event of another crisis like this one, there can be a quicker response (based off the interview I listened to on NPR).  Americans need to learn the difference between being prepared and panic.  When kids move out of the house, parents should gift them with a thermometer.  We cannot stop a virus from spreading, but we absolutely can have a god damned thermometer in our house.  

When we are set free again, let us celebrate with our newfound kindness and gratitude.  Let us find those small businesses that worked so hard to survive.  Let us return to Farmer's Markets and playgrounds and ball fields.  Let us remember our neighbors names and continue to yell hello from the back of the decks. Let us not forget how wonderful our teachers and schools are.  Let us contiune to treat our store clerks with appreciation.  Let us continue to cover our mouths and wash our hands and remember to take care of ourselves. 

We are better together, six feet apart!

Covid19, Panic and Keeping it Together

So, this is the first time I think most of us have experienced something like this.  We were nervous with SARS and H1N1 and we absolutely lost our shit with Ebola, but this, this is different.  We are expected to be alone, no gatherings, no out to eats, no St. Patrick's Day parades.  And if we aren't panicking, then we are frustrated or irritated or some other unpleasantry.
I way over read.  I listened to NPR like I was an intellect.  I knew too much.  I now know as little as possible.  And I feel better.  I have sworn myself off of Yahoo news.  I might watch the evening news, but probably not because M*A*S*H is on at the same time on another channel and, well, I can deal with that war.
I understand why people want to hoard.  It is something they can do in a time where they feel like they can do nothing.  I don't know why toilet paper was the hoard of choice.  I don't know why people weren't buying up chocolate and beer, but suit yourself, it's your two months. And in regards to the hoarding of toilet paper and hand sanitizer, I hope no retailer accepts returns of these products and other pandemic related items.
I am concerned for the economy.  For the small businesses that won't rebound.  For the retail and restaurant employees that are out of jobs for weeks and maybe months.  Honestly, for my own little business that doesn't really make any money, but that people won't come back out to craft shows and farmer's markets, that people will be afraid to buy their wants just in case.  I hope that companies with a little breathing room in their budget will help out the people and businesses that don't.
But at the same time, maybe the world needs a month off to get their houses cleaned and check books balanced.  Maybe this is a good opportunity for some businesses to figure out some of their issues.  Airlines could review the limited social distancing in airplanes and spread those seats out a bit.  They could also look at their customer service record and fix that up a little.  TSA will have less screenings to do so they could reorganize the area a little better so people weren't on top of each other while putting lap tops in bins and taking off their shoes.  Companies could repair their parking lots and facades.
I am not social distancing any more than usual.  I am usually home, only working two days a week now, so my schedule is really unchanged.  I don't have to struggle with child care for the next month or longer.  I don't have anyone with compromised immunity in my home.  I have no planned vacation to cancel.  The weather is warming up so I will be able to go outside, if only in my yard.
Facebook, though great at sharing dog photos and recipes, has become decisive over this virus.  Like we aren't in the middle of an election year, and we needed something else to argue about.  Anyway, there is a lot of good information out there that is great to share, but also remember that anyone can make a post or a meme with any information that they want.  The spread of false information is such a shitty thing to do.  It takes an extra 20 seconds to verify if your facts or opinions are factual.  And if you overhear someone say "I heard..." don't repeat it.  Remember that there are some people, even on your friend list, that are scared, or feel anxious or irrational.  There are some that are far from home or from their loved ones or their paycheck and they are afraid.  Be aware of that when you tell people to stop overreacting or that this will blow over.  Tornadoes blow over but can also fuck shit up.
And while on the subject of Facebook, the doomsday biblical posts aren't helping.
This seems like the perfect time to figure out what is important, focus on that.  Try a few new recipes.  Read a book.  Check off a few to dos on the list.  Appreciate who you are social distancing with.  Binge a comedy.  Oh, and be kind to everyone.

Nora Lynn

On October 8th another beautiful soul came into this world.  Practically perfect, she took my heart, including pieces of it that I didn't know I had.  Tiny, tiny fingers and toes, a sweet round nose, I was completely unprepared for this love.  This grandbaby girl love that truly doesn't compare to any other love I have known (and I've known a few). 
There are no grandparent rights, legal, or otherwise.  Every moment I have with this grandchild is a gift.  The mistakes, real or imagined, that I made with my own children need not be made again.  I am not new to this game, overtired or overworked will not apply to me.  Every moment shared is an act of faith by her parents that I will only build her up, put her first, fill her heart and the hearts of subsequent grand babies, with joy.  And this is a roll I do not take lightly. 
When I think of my own grandma and mom, (lofty goals, indeed)  I won't try to imitate them, but certainly emulate a few of their traits.  Already, I have big, big plans with this little gal.  And in the beginning, I imagine those plans will include a little Gordon McRae playing in the background while I tell her amazing stories of where she came from and how many people love her.  I will tell her how wide her families are, not bound by blood but by a tremendous love of her parents that now includes her.  Blessed with many great grandparents living, I will tell her about those already gone.  I will tell her about the big dogs that would have loved her fiercely all the while trying to convince the little one here that this baby is what a best friend looks like.  I cannot carry a tune or keep in step but that will not diminish the songs we will sing or the moves we will make. 
And the list goes on and on.  If I am lucky, if I am blessed to get a whole lot of living with this girl and those that may come along after her, I won't take it for granted.  I won't waste my days with idle work when there will be a Nora to learn from and love.  I won't take for granted that her mom and dad will bring her to my house instead of a daycare.  I won't take it for granted that my husband knows this worth is far greater than the paycheck I would bring home.  I won't take it for granted that my grandchild is near me, not across the country or the world, that the stars aligned to keep them close to us. 
I was pregnant no where near my parents, there had to be drives across country and flights across the Atlantic for them to meet my children.  Watching the little person I made make a little person was really quite amazing.  I tried desperately to be like my mom and not offer unsolicited advice (and I failed miserably).  And my mom, being a neonatal nurse, was wholly qualified to offer advice!  And now, watching these two kids with their kid, I know they need no real advice.  They know how to love her with their whole selves and everything else they can google.

A continuing evolution

I stopped praying a few months ago.  I stopped having faith in a greater power.  I stopped the insestint struggle I had with my relationship with God.  And I am no worse for wear.  In fact, I am far more at peace knowing that as the world appears to collapse around us, I don't have to be angry at a god who does not appear to listen to the pleas of his most desperate people.  I can blame humans for this shit and I can look to humans to help their fellow humans and the world we share.
I mean no disrespect to people who have a relationship with God, that find comfort in prayer, in worship.  I did.  The Catholic mass used to be a place of huge respite for me.  And then I found more conflict inside of me as I listened to the homilies of priests that represented a church that did not own its mistakes, its huge, life altering, life ruining mistakes.  I couldn't hear the message of love because I became fixated on the lack of responsibility the church showed in the abuses of children, in the coercion of its young priests, in its rapes of nuns at the hands of priests.  I felt like the church was looking to blame society, media and the "sin" of homosexuality.  None of that sounded like love to me.  So, I stopped going to mass, removed my name from the parishioner list, changed my funeral plans and no longer identified myself as catholic.
But my struggle was still there.  I covered up my LET GO LET GOD tattoo.  Now it just says "LET GO" and that's what I did.  I let go of having faith in a greater power.  I now think of god as a bigger power, but not greater.  I don't wonder about his plan for me, I don't fight so hard against his will.  I don't really think there is a plan and if there is, it appears to be a poor one.
I recently read an article in National Geographic about sacred text.  The article mentioned that at one point, men gathered to decide what books would be in the bible.  I read another article online about how the word homosexual and its variations were not in early bibles but only appeared later.  Early texts used a word to describe someone that was a child abuser, which is not a synonym of homosexual.  How do I trust the words written in the bible as the word of God when I see so much evidence of the hand of man mucking it all up?  So, I decided to pick and choose what I wanted to use in my life, much like Thomas Jefferson did and self-righteous people do.
And this I know, it does not matter if I believe, if I pray, if I do what Jesus did (because I wouldn't, let's be honest, I am not aiding lepers or volunteering to die on crosses).  What matters is how I live my life here because I am here not because I am trying to secure a spot there.  Love thy neighbor regardless of their sexual orientation, immigration status or religion but judge them on their shopping cart habits.
I was tired of hearing the phrases 'god's will' and 'free will'.   I was tired of those being the answer to every question that haunted me.  I was tired of the idea that an infant born with cancer was somehow "god's will" because if it was, god was a jerk.  The Amazon is on fire, God should be able to make it rain but instead sends a killer hurricane to already destitute areas.  How is any of that behavior the behavior of someone I want to look up to, worship, confide in and trust?  So, I trust the people raising money to help fight the fires, that help fight the cancers, that help rebuild the islands.  I send them my dollars instead of giving it to an organization that has had to pay hush money to altar boys.
I won't pray for you.  I won't ask you to keep me in your prayers.  I will bless you when you sneeze because I don't know what else to say, but I don't really mean it in that way.
But in all of my thinking, I still have some contradictory truths.  I know that my mom is in heaven.  I still love to visit churches and would not turn down a trip to the vatican.  I have a big collection of crosses and nativity scenes that I do not intend to get rid of.  I am still defensive toward Martin Luther and his influence on the iconoclasts.  I am not an atheist or even an agnostic.  I am simply a non participant.  And probably a ticket holder to hell.

Looking For a Bloke Like Joseph

I've had three horrible dreams in the past four weeks, two on the same night.  The dreams were all different though two were related.  In each dream, I had an overwhelming sense of dread.  I could feel that dread spread up my legs, pinning me in my place.  In each dream, I knew that I needed help and tried to yell for it but could not get the sound out.  During each of these dreams, my sweet husband, still recovering from back surgery had to try and wake me.  The first dream was just days after his surgery.  The other two dreams came during the week of my own bout of diverticulitis.  It would make sense that all these dreams were in response to the stress I was under.   I did my due diligence and sleep paralysis was my internet diagnosis.  Turns out that I may have been in an in between of sleep and awake and that is why I so clearly remember the physical and visual experience.  I now try to not sleep on my back, which is one cause.  There didn't seem to be much in the way of other solutions other than reduce stress.
Aside from these dreams, I am constantly having dreams about people that I used to know.  I wake up from these sad or frustrated or, usually, pissed.  So my question to a dream decipherer is this, how do I shut off my mind when I shut off the lights?
I don't buy the stressful life theory aside from the two aforementioned episodes.  My life is pretty easy, pretty stress free.  Roof over my head, food on my table, gas in my car.  Anything else is stress I am making up.  So with that in mind, I would expect the sleep paralysis to be done. 
These other dreams though, where I am an this place of really ugly energy, they reek of unfinished business.  And what does one do when the business cannot be finished.  What does one do when (I am metaphoring this som bitch up) the bridge is torn down, the wood has floated down river and all that is left are some rusted old pipes that once served as make shift hand rails?  What does one do when a mountain has, in fact, been made of a mole hill?  Too big to get over and too big to smooth out.
I understand why doctors say "he's lucky, it was a clean break."  It is so easy to heal from something that gave way smoothly.  My own literal break was not clean and there is a tiny chip of bone loose in my ankle.  It used to bother me and then I think it burrowed itself into the fat of my calf and is now completely forgotten.  And my figurative break is not clean either.  Ten years ago, it would have been before social media wormed its way into my life and I probably read more into comments (or the lack of them) then I do of actually reading comments. 
So I ask you, self help gurus, life coaches, people that have removed the toxic or stopped being the toxic, how is it done.  How do get my clean break?  How do I stop caring and hurting and trying? 

Martyrdom is Dumb

Let me clarify martyrdom, I am not referring to those that have given their lives for their religious beliefs.  That is not something I can remotely understand, but it is not dumb.  I have very wavering religious beliefs so it would be hard for me to die for them as they change every other day.  The martyrdom I am referring to is the stupid notion that one must take it all on themselves.  (Insert image of tired woman with back of hand on forehead).  How the notion of someone suffering because they are doing it all became martyrdom is beyond me, because the two actions are certainly not interchangeable.
A week and a half ago, Danny had back surgery.   Two surgeries actually, on Thursday and Friday.  Also on Friday, the biggest work project I annually have also started.  Add to that, bad weather, daughters driving hundreds of miles and an out of whack shoulder.  I was determined to handle all of it.  I was going to be at the hospital in the mornings for surgery, go to work, keep up on texts as the drivers stopped for gas, go back to the hospital, come home, push some snow (can't get the snowblower started with my bad shoulder) sleep and do it again.  I thought this was what I was supposed to do.  The first snowstorm I came home to a snow blown front walk and started to cry in the driveway.  The following day I came home from the hospital to find the entire drive shoveled by Jacob and the waterworks began again.  Obviously, I needed help but oddly, wasn't asking.  I worked the weekend, visited Danny and came home bone tired.  The work project is pretty physical, a lot of bending, lifting and reading very small print.  I have done this project on my own a dozen times over the last 10 years, I am efficient and usually have no problem getting it done in a week, but I had never had a week like this one.
Danny came home Monday and I knew immediately that I needed to stay home with him on Tuesday.  We were not prepared for the recovery of this surgery.  The doctors certainly gave us best case scenario and though Danny was not completely incapacitated, he was not without the need of a lot of assistance.  The hospital had his medications spread out over a two to four hour span.  We were up a lot in the night. 
Tuesday night I had my first ever experience with sleep paralysis.  My brothers in law and son had all experienced it, so I knew what it was, but had no idea what it would feel like.  The details of my dream didn't relate to what was going on in my life, but I can only guess that the stress I had put myself under was what had set this experience in motion.  My muffled calls for help in my sleep were alarming enough to force Danny to roll over in bed to wake me.  It was like nothing I had ever felt before.  I was unable to move but felt like I needed to, I yelled for help but the words would not be heard.  I knew there was danger coming through the door in my dream though I never saw what it was.  Exhausted, I made the decision to stay home on Wednesday.  It snowed again on Wednesday.  Two of Danny's friends came over after work and cleared the driveway for us.  At work, other employees took care of that day's duties and I finally made peace with not doing it all.  And, you know what, I am no less of a human for it. 
There is no gold star next to my name if I get the project done all by myself.  In fact, the project is designed to be done by teams so it is expected that several people complete the project.  At 49, I don't physically come back from a day like I used to.  I seem to require my full eight hours of sleep and for these few days, wasn't getting close to that.  I'm no martyr.  Nor did I set out to be one.  I just didn't think that week would be that hard.  We asked the questions at the appointment before surgery so we could be prepared, they just didn't give us much for answers.  And I thought the work project would be manageable, but in years past, I was always able to get a head start on it, this year, I wasn't.  Lesson learned.  Help is not a four letter word.  Well, it is, but it isn't a bad word.  This was a lesson taught to me years ago by Father Hurley.  I should have remembered.  People want to help, they just need to know how.  Most people aren't mind readers, they don't know how one is struggling.  And even when a person is aware of what is going on, they cannot possibly know what kind of support is already in place.  Additionally, everyone of the people that helped me out this week and every other time, have their own snow to shovel so to speak. 
I've know there are a lot of people that have to do it all themselves.  They have no support system for whatever reason and I am not making light of your situation.  If it's you, send me a message, I can help. 
I shared my epiphany with a friend of mine and she said that she was glad for it.  She didn't know how I was going to cope as the week was giving me pressure on the physical, mental and emotional front.  She was proud of me, she said.  And mine was only a week so I thought I could do it.  Not out of pride, just didn't expect all the feels to beat me down. 
Caregivers so often forget to care for themselves.  I see it so often at Walgreens when the harried person comes in for a prescription and walker and chocolates.  They are often overwhelmed with it all in the beginning and slowly become immune to their own needs.  Or they become so bitter because they aren't given the help they expect but don't ask for.  In my own week, the girls were on vacation and Jacob had recently moved out.  I didn't want to burden Jacob with coming over to shovel.  He did it gladly (well, you know). 

Resolve

Hey resolution time!  Yeah, you with the huge expectations.  I'm talking to you.  And I am telling, not this time.  I resolve nothing.  I have done enough resolving in previous years so I see no need to create more burdens on my heart and head.  I'm just going to keep keeping on.  And if my history teaches me anything, there will be days where I will proclaim that I am done.  Done with being fat or sad or pissed off and I will be done for days or weeks or even a couple months and then something happens and I'll be back to being fat or sad or pissed off.  And that's alright, it is me and I am not interested in changing me too very much.
This past year was very unsettled in our hearts and it was difficult. 
Danny, after so many years of using his body to save the world in many different aspects, injured his back.  Months of trying to find a treatment that would work has led us to surgery and the hopes that the pain will be minimized.  THe chiropractor took a lot of time with Danny explaining what happened and in that conversation said that sometime in the past 35 years, Danny injured his back and over the years, it finally gave.  Sometime... parcoring (before it was a word) across downtown Cedar Rapids, humping across the deserts of Saudi Arabia, jumpin out of airplanes, backpacking across Iraq with half his body weight strapped to his body, wearing a vest and belt for ten years getting in and out of a crown vic, chasing down the bad guy, doing the Danny drop.  Yeah, sometime in all that, an injury occurred.
As a mom, it was tough to watch the kinder muddle through all that 2018 did and didn't have to offer.  I am very proud of them in undescribable ways as they make the make forward.  Adults, sure, but there have been some very sweet moments, especially in these past few months, that have showed me the kids they once were.  And I couldn't been more proud of them as they measure their successes not in dollars but in satisfactions and joys.  What they are now is not so much from what Danny and I did as parents but from what they have learned as adults, adulting. 
Me, I made all kinds of resolutions in 2018 and yeah, I worked out, but not always.  I made a real go of this little business of mine and I am finding my way and it is wonderful.  Loomies Rugs LLC is the most wonderful little business and the support I have received my from family and friends makes my heart so happy.  I did not make the transition to pharmacy at work and that's fine.  I am particularly good at putting stuff on a shelf so I keep at that. 
I tried to let go of IT.  It, that all encompassing word, not the clown in the sewer.  It has been a little group of emotions that are primarily grief and pissed.   A huge thank you to my friends that have allowed me to hash and rehash IT, I may be over IT!  Wouldn't that be exciting.  I've read about being a toxic person and maybe that is a resolution, to stop being an asshole.  I have struggled with letting go with the crimes committed against me, real and perceived.  I've done a really good job of playing the victim.  I understand why people want a sharp knife for a clean cut.  A dull knife leaves a lot of jagged edges that just don't heal properly and that applies to people as well.  If you intend to go about inflicting injury on people, at least be sharp not dull.  Oh wait, that is me being an asshole again, good thing it isn't the new year yet. 
I wish you all a very bright and beautiful new year.  May your IT be over and may your happiness be overflowing.  Cheers 2019!!!

An Agnostic Christmas

My heart has changed over the course of the past year but I wasn't really realizing it until the annual appeal came in the mail from the church I belonged to.  I could tell by the amount tithed in 2018, I had not been to mass in a very long time.  In fact, the last mass I remember was in July in Cedar Rapids, said for my dad.  I had stopped going to mass for no real reason, but as I read the tithing appeal, I realized that I could no longer give to the Catholic Church.  I couldn't trust them with my money.  I couldn't be certain that none of my dollars were in any way supporting a sex offender, a predator against children, a person that was systematically protected by an organization that should have done the very opposite. (I just read an article about two nuns that embezzled $50,000 from the school they principled and taught at, the diocese was not going to press charges because the sisters showed remorse, more protection.) And with that thought came the realization that I can't expect that same organization to support me, I couldn't just show up and use the facilities etc when I had the means to donate but chose not to. 
And in no way is any one parish to blame.  St. Francis, the church I most frequented and belonged to, made me welcome.  Though it has a huge membership, there were so many options for someone to get involved and feel a part of the place.  Though it never felt like Immaculate Conception, and really, what parish could, it was and is a welcoming place.  It saddens me to know that I will not have a Catholic funeral mass.  I find that particular mass the most comforting, the most beautiful send off.  And yet, I am not Catholic and I cannot pick and choose what I want to follow and use.  So I did a little web search and this is one of the site's list of requirements to be Catholic.  I fail miserably on many of these bullet points and I am pro choice.  That seems like an immediate exclusion from Catholic life and I completely agree that all life is sacred.  I am just not willing to give up the desire for abortion to remain legal.  (And I have had every argument presented to me on this subject and my mind does not waiver.)
The website stated as a Catholic, basically you're required to live a Christian life, pray daily, participate in the sacraments, obey moral law, and accept the teachings of Christ and his Church.  I can follow Christ's teachings, or at least try to, but the teachings of the church is where I stumble.  There is a long history of corruption, greed and abuse in the church, how can I follow any of what they say when they cannot follow it?  Even now, we are still learning about cases of abuse that happened in this century.
-Attend Mass every Sunday and holy day of obligation.  Well, I am obviously not doing that.  I am not even attending Mass once a month.  And I have heard the argument frequently that I don't need to be in a church to worship God and that is correct, but I do need to be in church to be Catholic.  Like I need to be in class to be a student.  Or at work to be an employee.
-Go to confession annually if not more often or when needed.  I cannot say with certainty the last time I went to confession.  Oh, I love the sacrament and don't have issue going, it is the cheapest therapy session I know, I just am too lazy to go.  And yet, I would receive eucharist knowing that I wasn't supposed to because I hadn't been to confession.  Again, confession is not required for my sins to be forgiven, I know that, but receiving the sacrament annually is required for continued Catholicism. 
-receiving Holy Communion during Easter.  Receiving weekly or daily is encouraged, though.  Can't receive if I don't go.  Oddly, for all the laws and beliefs that I have an issue with, Holy Communion is not one of them.  Believing that Christ's blood and body were/are present in the eucharist has always been easy for me to accept.  And I always thought it so interesting that so many other Christian religions that take far more of the bible literally did not take the events of the last supper literally and believe that the Eucharist is merely a symbol of the body and blood of Christ.  But again, it shouldn't matter to me what another faith believes as I become agnostic. 
-Observe laws on fasting and abstinence: one full meal on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday; not eating meat on Fridays during Lent.  Well, I don't.  I absolutely suck at fasting.  Tell me I can't eat something and all of a sudden that is all I want.  This past Lenten period, my muslim friend made plenty of fun of me for not being able to get through a Friday when he fasts during all of Ramadan.  There is some serious fasting in that religion.  No Thanks!
-Obey the marriage laws of the Church.  I am pretty sure I hit this one on the nose.  Except for the obey part.  Neither Danny or I do much of that. 
-Support the Church financially and otherwise.  Well, I have already touched on this one in the beginning.  I don't tithe anymore.  When I was going to mass, it was $10 in the basket,  but I would also claim it on my taxes so it wasn't exactly a free gift from the heart.  And after the most recent comments made by Pope Francis regarding homosexuals that he made in an interview for a book to be soon published, "He urged homosexuals who are already priests or nuns to be celibate and responsible to avoid creating scandal." /www.nbcnews.com/news/religion/pope-francis-says-he-s-worried-about-homosexuality-priesthood-n942726.   While reading this, I wondered one thing, did Pope Francis believe that because someone was homosexual, meaning that they were attracted to a member of their same sex as opposed to a heterosexual, someone attracted to a member of the opposite sex, they could not take a vow of celibacy and maintain that vow?  Because let's not confuse things here one bit.  Homosexuality is in no way responsible for the actions taken by members of the church that preyed upon children and young people for their own needs.  Those that commited sexual assaults against children and young people did so for no other reason than that they could not control themselves.  Those people used their position of trust and power to prey upon the most vulnerable and were then protected and supported by the Church.  Pope Francis's words left me saddened for every person that wants to be accepted into the church and then hears those words that imply their sexuality makes them less moral or ethical.  A person chooses a life of celibacy regardless of their sexual preference.  And the scandals created in the past were by priests and bishops and cardinals that were protecting criminals.  FFS if my parish priest chooses to have an affair with another consenting adult, be it hetero or homosexual, that is not a scandal compared to hundreds of, wait thousands of children being assaulted sexually be people representing Christ.   Don't get me wrong, the aforementioned affair would certainly be interesting as far as nosey human interest goes, but it would not be a scandal that ruined the lives of children and that required the hard earn money of parishioners to be used as hush money.
So that's how I came to realize I was no longer Catholic.  And I am sad for it.  I love the Catholic mass.  I love the rituals and meanings behind all the small actions.  I love the huge monuments built to honor Christ (and to show off to the neighboring bishop).  I love the art and pageantry.  I love the blue shirts and khaki pants and plaid skirts of the students.   I will always remember fondly the Catholic Church of my youth with IC school, bazaars, KofC 909 fish fries and steak fries.  But I am no longer there. 
And with that, I started to question my faith.  And this is where is all gets very muddled and tricky.
I separate God and Jesus.  I know the one in three persons deal, and I don't know how that works exactly, but for my purposes, I am separating God and Jesus and here's why.  Jesus is legit.  Everything I can read about him in the bible adds up.   He's a good guy who walks the walk  He know what Jesus would do and does it.  And Jesus' message is clear.  Love your neighbor, help the poor, don't be an ass.  God, on the other hand, has no clear message.  Don't get a tattoo, sacrifice your baby, don't eat shellfish. 
Trust in me.  That's where He got me.  I started trusting and I started leaving it up to Him and I saw no change, or the change I saw was worse.  And I'm not talking about winning the lottery prayers.  I am talking about reading about all these people trying to make the world better in a million ways and nothing comes to fruition.  I am talking about the ridiculousness in refusing plastic straws and carrying my own bags when the earth is dying around us and yet we were called upon to be stewards and all the stewards are just hitting these political walls.  I am talking about these organizations desperately trying to feed babies in Yemen and the convoys are stolen or destroyed.  And I ask why in the word should I trust You?  What is to be gained from it?  I am no worse off to refuse my straws and donate to relief organizations without looking to a higher power for hope and help.  Is it absolutely ridiculous of me to want to see your work in action?  I don't think so.  I feel like the only time I see "God's work" is when one religion is attacking another or one group is protesting another group and I don't think either of those is what "God's work" is supposed to be.
"It's God's Will"  Ah, yes, that is a classic stand by.   And we are not to understand why it is His will or in His plan or any other thing.  There is a movement of people that believe that the government does not want to fund better education for its population because uneducated people are easier to control.  That same philosophy certainly could be applied to the teachings about God.  People have created this huge, hulking power that we are to fear.  If we fear, we probably won't challenge.  Reading the Old Testament, it certainly feels like we should fear. 
Let me ask you this, Am I any worse for wear if  I do not worship God?  Will I go to hell?  Possibly, but depending on your belief system, heaven may only have a limited number of rooms available anyway.  According to Revelation 7:4, 144,000 people will be headed  home and the rest?  Now, the argument there is that this was written in a time...   The whole bible was written in a time ...   I absolutely struggle with people taking one piece as fact and another as rumor and a third as a lesson meant to teach us.  Generally we take the facts to fit our own needs, rumor to dispel our sins and lessons to explain something we don't really want to follow anyway.  For example, I cannot eat shellfish, the bible says so.  But I can get tattoos because the bible was written when non believers would have tattoos.  And the 144,000 going to heaven was a story that had to do with the 12 tribes of Israel and was written before new math.  But if everything is literal, there are not going to be very many people in heaven, yet we were told to be fruitful and multiply.  It makes zero sense!
Not believing or worshipping or even honoring God doesn't change who I am other than the fact that I have a tattoo I need covered.  I still do good stuff, I am still a relatively good person, I still donate my dollars but I do all those not because of God but because I want this world to be better.  And with God, it hasn't gotten any better so why should I put for that extra effort on Him when I could use it to make a change that is here and now? 
If I want to believe that God is responsible for Danny's safe return home from Iraq or Ashlyn's cure of cancer then I have to believe that He is also responsible for the death of everyone that didn't come home.  I have to believe He is to blame for the death of those not cured.  He has to be present in the action and reaction.  Danny was primarily responsible for his safe return home and Ashlyn's cure was because of science and the way her body responded to treatment.  Sure you can argue that those doctors got their big brains from God, but they chose to use them.  Free will and God's plan can't be used in the same argument. 
Funny thing is, crosses are still a big part of my home decorating.  I have many, crosses and crucifixes.  I will still collect them on my travels because they are beautiful and the cross symbol has been around for a every long time, so it doesn't have to be religious.  And during the holidays, I am still unpacking many nativity sets.  And I still want more.  There are some beautiful nativities carved in Bethlehem and I would love to have one because it is hand made by Christians in Bethlehem, a group of people I want to support and the craftsmanship is amazing.  Christmas time is full of symbols that I don't understand or know the meaning of, even the time of year we celebrate the birth of Jesus was chosen because people were already celebrating the winter solstice and it was easier to introduce another celebration that used many of the same symbols.  If we believe the nativity story, and the other clues presented in the bible, Jesus would have been born in September or October. 
And yes, I will wish you a Merry Christmas.  And you will probably wish me a Merry Christmas as well and I will take no offense because that would be dumb.  You can pray for me if you like, but I will not pray for you because I am not positive in the purpose and do you really want someone of less faith praying for you?  Though out of habit, I still find myself saying prayers to myself when the ambulance drives by.  I still believe Mom and Dad are in heaven.  I absolutely believe that your beliefs are right and true for you (mostly).
Last week a very emotional woman was in the store.  She talked to me for quite awhile in the aisle and then again at the check out.   She did a lot of stops and starts in her sentences, never quite saying what she wanted and there were tears in her eyes.  I followed her outside just to be sure she was ok.  And I offered her a hug.  She came back to the store later with two flowers for me and a thank you note.  The note said something about Jesus putting me there for her.  I don't know if that's true but I know it doesn't matter if it is.  Jesus didn't compel me to be kind or to offer her a hug.  Jesus didn't put Barron between me and the harm I was going to cause.  Jesus didn't give me two daughters with compatible blood types, and if he did, why didn't he give compatible blood types to other sisters?  It's all just how it happened.  The earth rotates, sometimes it rains, people are kind, people are assholes, dogs are really good at reading people but don't live nearly long enough, shit happens. 
This may all be a phase.  I've gone through phases before.  I was once trying to be an educated Catholic, that backfired.  I once tried to be a devote rosary sayer, I was lazy.  I looked into Eastern religions but don't have the self discipline.  So agnostic it is.  And a cover up tattoo.
Romans 14:1. 

Go West

It was 18 years ago today that we moved out of my little old house in Cedar Rapids and moved into a crappy but big apartment in West Des Moines.  Just three years later, we would make the decision to stay in West Des Moines and bought a home.  Frequently, we talk about how different life would be if we would have followed one of the other potential paths.  We would all be very different people.  There would have been no Harlow, no Emmitt, no Hattie and possibly, no deployment.  More than likely, there would have been no Brett (or Marie or Arthur).  Cancer treatment could have looked very different.  There probably would have still have been a truck, only sooner and maybe, bigger.
When we moved here, it was for a job with the Iowa State Patrol at the capital.   Cedar Rapids Police had already said no thank you and we weren't holding out for Linn County.  The terrible thing about being in the hiring process for law enforcement agencies is that they take months.  I get it, they want to make sure they have the best people, but for the people in the process, it sucks!  After CRPD said no thank you, and ISP said thank you, it seemed silly and risky to stick around to see what Linn County Sheriff's department was going to say.  So sold the house and headed west.
After three years of Danny doing overnights at the governor's mansion and capital, he applied to Des Moines Police Department, put in for a transfer with the state patrol and applied to Nevada State Patrol.  We had decided to say yes to the first offer he (we) got.  DMPD it was.  That allowed us to buy a home and stay in the area that had begun to feel like home.  It meant the kids didn't switch schools again.  I kept my job.  Absolutely the easiest of decisions.
Had the state patrol offered a transfer, we could have gone anywhere in the state except the bigger cities.  We could have lived on some land, had goats and chickens.  The kids would have gone to a small school not Valley.  There would not have been a Harlow, but there would have been other dogs, probably several.  I could have had an old farm house and maybe a coup.  I would have completely gone all in with that lifestyle.  I would have ended up with entirely different kids because of the experiences they would have had.  Every time we visit friends that have their own little slice of green far away from the city, I think of what could have been and then I hear about their commute, or think about the gravel road they are on, or how terribly far from the hospital they are and I am grateful to be where we are.
The other option, moving to Nevada, was terribly exciting.  We would have been in the Las Vegas area and would have eventually made our way north to Reno to be near Danny's sisters and their families.  Our lives, and to some extend, their lives would have been so different.  Our kids could have taken dance and learned to ski.  We could have been in the city or outside of town.  But it would have been a lot of long roads for Danny to patrol and I don't think any of us would have liked that.   I would have become proficient at  winter mountain driving.  When cancer came, there would have been a pretty good chance we would have gone to Sacramento for transplant.  I would have picked up a gambling habit.   I would have seen Barry Manilow, a lot.
I don't know if this is where we were meant to be.  It is impossible to know.  And I don't put any stock in god's plan.  It is just how it happened.  One city didn't see the potential and a state and another city did.  We followed the money so to speak. 
There was comfort in living in Cedar Rapids.  I knew my way around.  I knew the schools my kids would attend.  The house we were in was cheap and had great woodwork and I cried the day I left it.  I cried for all the things I was leaving, not just the woodwork and high ceilings, but the Sunday dinners at my parents, the growing up with cousins, grandparents at soccer games and band concerts.  I had a church that knew me.  I even had a couple of high school friends still in town.  And Danny would have been such a good police officer for that city.  I still take it personally that he didn't make the cut.  Crapids.
And here's where we are and, barring a very large lottery win, here's where we will stay.  West Des Moines has certainly become home.  It is where my kids are from, it's where I want to be.  We have roots, we have a community.  We still root for the Tigers even though we have no children there.  We have our Hy Vee and our Target and yes, our Walgreens.  And let's be clear, I live in West Des Moines and don't know my way around Des Moines at all though I am good to go in Clive, Urbandale and most of Johnston!  And I cannot imagine a life without these friends we have here, these work, church and school friends that feel like family.
We went where we needed to go to do what was best for our family.  (My sister in law and her family have just done a similar thing.)  Not everyone was happy we moved west and others weren't happy we didn't move further west.  It's just how it goes.  And now that I am watching my own kids make those same type of life choices I just try to make it clear that if they must go, then they must and we shall visit and if they must stay, then they must and we will not stop by unannounced. 
So people, go where you must, enjoy it, embrace it and be happy in knowing that you did what was best and right for you!  We might come visit!

Run Anne Run

A week ago yesterday, while doing my evening reflection, I had an epiphany.  I needed to run.  It was so clear in my mind.  It was also 12:30 am and I had no proper footwear, it would have been irresponsible to run then, so fast forward to Sunday.  Danny took me to the good shoe store, the one that watches you walk and actually finds the right shoes for a first time runner.  Monday morning post FXB, I ran.  And it's ugly.  Most of the time it is this slow scuffle of feet barely leaving the pavement, or worse, a hunched over nearly defeated girl digging in for that next spurt and then the music changes and I am upright, chest out, fingers spread and I know I am placing each foot, each solution in front of the other with grace and purpose. 
I am not running from anything anymore. 
I am running toward something.
Piece of mind, peace of mind.  Exercise may help ward off dementia.  Exercise does help ward off all the bullshit in life. 
I think the catalyst to this need to run came from an audio book I am listening to with my sister Dene' and friends.  May Cause Miracles by Gabrielle Bernstein.   It is not an earth shattering idea, it is mostly about forgiving myself, loving myself and finding that forgiveness and love in the world.  It is nothing that I didn't already know, I had just decided for too long to ignore the issues in my heart and mind.  When Dene' sent the Facebook invitation, I lept for it.  I needed it,  I need it.  And I am already finding miracles.  My God, I am running.  There is a miracle. 
And this invitation came just as I was researching therapists.  I appeared to be stuck in a stage of grief or something that I couldn't get past.  I was looking for sneaky ways to self harm to avoid situations.  I'm going to stop there for a moment.  I was so emotionally worked up about a social situation that I was actively trying to hurt myself badly enough to not have to go.  That, my friends, is a shit place to be.  I have worked very hard to get out of the self harm space.  Somewhere in me, I was willing to go back to that place.  Obviously, I needed help.  I was super sensitive to the invitations that were not extended or the choice of words on facebook.  I will tell you, for as much as  I love Facebook, it is the fucking devil when one is feeling insecure.  Anyway, with any trip to the therapist comes a copay and I decided, nope, I am not giving up any more of myself to this problem so I downloaded the Audible app, bought a little journal and started to find the answers in me. 
The night of the epiphany I was heartbroken, again (Jesus Anne, get over it) and in the sobs, I saw it.  I saw me, stride after stride, fixing my heart and getting killer legs while at it.  I reached out to my friend, Juli, who is an avid runner.  She frequently posts about the joy and release she finds in runs.  She is currently training for the Chicago Marathon.  She is an incredible friend.  She is super bad ass.  I would read her posts with a desire to experience that feeling but someone in my head would say, remember, you can't run. Because of what I am learning through May Cause Miracles, I know there is no one else in my head but me.  I have gratefully shown the door to all the other naysayers that resided there.  The voices from my youth, my young adulthood and even my middle adulthood, those voices that said I can't.  The only voice that is left is the one that had listened to the others.   And I am helping that Anne pack up and leave. 
I can run.  I am perfectly capable of it.  I will work on my endurance and I will be able to keep a steady stride for an entire mile. I will add onto that mile as time goes on, I don't have an end goal of time or mileage, I don't know my destination, I don't think that is the important part right now, it's that I am running.  Outside of my comfort zone but nearly as far out today as I was on Monday.  I am running toward a better me.  An Anne that sees the miracles.  An Anne that faced a fear and aced that fear. 
I wrap up this week with five days at Farrells and six days running.  Miracle. 
I have slept soundly six nights in a row.  No despairing dreams.  Miracle.
I have not self harmed in more years than I can remember even though the desire is frequently present.  Miracle. 
I am running. Miracle.



And in case you were wondering, there is a Broadway show based on life of Donna Summer.  The music has begun to show up on my Pandora Showtunes Radio station.  I have always loved "MacArthur Park" but was only familiar with Richard Harris's version.  I did not know there was a disco version.  There is.  I was completely out of steam.  It started to play and it starts out slow.  Who did leave the cake out in the rain?  I've always wondered that, and I can appreciate the time to it takes to make it, it does take time to bake it.  And without the internet, they very well may never have that recipe again.  And then the music changes and there is no denying the beat.  I had my best run to that song.  I think a disco station is what I need to maximize my run. 

It's inevitable, Change

I'm 48, nearly 49, obviously I have changed.  Everything about me from the number on my scale to even the height mark on the door has changed.  Inside, outside, upside and downside, people change.  Otherwise there would be a whole lot of newborns laying around without fire or the wheel etc and, well, it seems like evolution and all that requires change.  So there you go.
Think of your own life, your own journey.  What has changed you most?  And what have been the good and bad changes that you have made?  Would you trade out the bad or did they lead to better?  Or did they lead to worse?  At some point in life, we have to own the changes we have made or the change we have become and know that that is who we are and move on from that.  I think that is finally where I am. 
I am different than I was, obviously.  But when was 'was'?  Did I change when I moved to each new city?  Yes, because each new city brought new challenges for me that I had to adapt to.  Those new challenges were sometimes similar, new city, more children, Danny away with deployments and training.  And then there were the changes of being in a different country, or learning how to balance my own work with deployments and growing children and having a home I was responsible for, not a lease.  And in all of that, is adapting to the changes that are happening in the lives of the people around me as well.  I have never been successful at that.  Own it, and move forward. 
I can't and won't look back anymore on the should haves and could haves of my past.  I accept that each decision I made, right or wrong, is mine.  I can't undo a decision, but if it were the wrong one, I can take steps to rectify it.  Like the hallway paint color, horrible choice, I can paint over.  Like my anger toward someone that was very close to me, nothing I can do to paint over that, I have learned to live with it and forgive myself for the grudge that I held.
Here's the other thing, we don't know what causes a person to change.  We don't know what is happening in a life that makes someone become angry all the time, or unhealthy or despondent.  I also know that I generally didn't ask, just made assumptions, but I am changing that behavior.
And where is all this discussion of change coming from, you may ask, well, several months ago, I got told that I had changed (and not for the better I might add!) when I moved to Des Moines.  And that is fair.  I have definitely changed in the past nearly 18 years.  In this time, I have experienced some situations that I never dreamt I would, and for as much as the day to day of living can change a person, add in illness and death and at times, a very different and dark day to day, you bet your ass I have changed.  I don't apologize for who I have become and I don't think I need to.  I also don't think I need to spend any more time on justifying who I have become.  As Goethe so eloquently said "If God wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise."  Meaning, I am here as God's creation, not someone else's idea of what I should be.  That being said, God did create me as a work in progress and I continue to progress and change.
Even today, I changed.  I got outside of a fear and I ran a mile.  Within that mile was some walking, some resting, some jogging but there was also running.  And I wasn't running from my problems, but running towards my solutions.  That is part of the continual change that is taking place within me.
This living business can be tricky.  I have had to decide who do I please, who do I change for, who do I want to be.   I may please no one unless they choose to be pleased by my actions, I may change for no one but myself because only I know who I choose to be.

Not an expert on constitutional law or anything else, just a gal with some thoughts

I've kept my opinion off line for the most part because, honestly, what difference will it make?  The difference my opinion will make is at the polls, where I shop, what businesses I choose to support.  Gun control, the 2nd amendment, safer schools and the simple idea that some asshole with a gun will not shoot me while I shop, movie watch, pray or rock out are all very hot and emotional topics, especially today as it was March for our lives across much of America.
Most of what I say will be my own opinion which has been formed through 48 years of experience that is all my own.  I will probably make up some percentages and will misquote the constitution.  You are welcome to tell me how wrong or right I am in the comments and I will read them and appreciate what you have to say knowing that your opinions are based on your own unique life experiences.
Guns are not evil.  They are often the preferred tool of evil.  As have spears, swords, boulders, words, tylenol capsules and packages.  I have a great fondness of guns, in particular WWII era rifles that my dad collected, frequently cleaned and cared for.  That fondness has absolutely nothing to do with what they do, but with who I was with when I learned (I don't remember what I learned) about them.  I appreciated that these weapons were often the weapons of the Allies (I watched Big Red One, I knew the score).   I saw no evil in the wood stocks that were a little gouged from use, in the leather slings that were stretched from years of being slung over a soldier's shoulder, from the history of where this gun traveled from and from who it served.  I don't remember a time when a gun was not something I knew about.
The first gun massacres I recall were in California outside of a McDonald's and in Texas at a Ruby's.  And then I didn't hear about them again until Columbine.  It feels like it hasn't stopped since Columbine.  It feels like there is always an asshole with a gun and not nearly enough is there a not an asshole with a gun to stop him.  And I think too often the not asshole would be outgunned.  And that, my friends, makes me sick.  I love a lot of not assholes with guns.  I don't want them to be at the mall with a handgun concealed in their waistband when an asshole looking to create mass terror and mass destruction walks in with a weapon (this is where I may make up facts even if I try to fact check, I don't know what I'm reading) that has a magazine that holds 100 rounds.  I am confident that if the asshole had to stop and change magazines, the not asshole would eliminate the threat. 
I have a permit to carry.  I don't carry.  I have enough shit in my purse, if I needed to pull out a gun, there is a good chance I would attempt to protect myself with lip balm and a tampon.  I do not have an issue with those that do carry concealed.  In fact, I am very pleased to know that there are many very well trained, even keeled individuals out there that are willing and able to stop a threat.  I am glad to know that the individuals that teach about gun safety and use are well educated and well versed in real life situations.  I pray that these individuals will never have to be that one that stops the threat, but as we saw in Maryland just this past week, we need those sheepdogs.  I do have an issue with those that choose to not conceal.  I believe that those individuals often choose to show the world their weapon because they think it is cool and I believe that they create an unnecessary climate of fear in Target.  Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. 
I know there was a lot of backlash to Dick's when they announced that they would no longer sell rifles to those under 21.  I believe Walmart made the same decision but I don't recall that they received the same backlash.  I believe it is harder to boycott a store that sells just about everything one needs at a reasonable price than it is to boycott a store that sells sporting goods.  But the beauty of it is, if you don't like a store, company practice, you can not put your money where your mouth is.  Imagine if we got this fired up about oil spills and clear cutting forests! 
My problem is with the age of 21.  That fucker in Las Vegas was a long way from 21.  And why is 21 this arbitrary number that allows you to all of a sudden make the right decisions about firearms and alcohol (unless you are in the military and then you are trained and expected to make the right decisions with a firearm at 18 and unless you are in Europe and then you are able to make the right decisions with alcohol at 18) and I know plenty of people that are far from 21 that cannot make a correct decision regarding alcohol (me).  But at the same time, people have to show ID to buy children's cough medicine because there are enough people out there that cannot make a good decision with a normal product. 
School safety is another hot topic.  Do we arm teachers?  Why am I saying, do we?  I am not arming anyone.  God, I don't even arm myself.  I am not keen on arming teachers based on the opinions I have read from teachers.  They have expressed their opinions about already often feeling overwhelmed with what they are tasked with by the school and society and with what they have tasked themselves with, as well.  Instead of training and arming teachers, I would rather see enhanced security measures, increased funding for more staff especially with at risk kids and trained security and police officers.  The opinions I have read from teachers is that no amount of training could prepare them to shoot a child, perhaps a former or current student.  That they just couldn't.  That is not to say that there aren't some teachers that would be an asset armed, but if someone knows that they could not stop the threat, don't put them in that position with the expectation that they would. 
I believe that no amount of law will stop an asshole.  And I also believe that an asshole will take the easiest route to cause the desired amount of terror.  It is very difficult to get a gun in Great Britain so the assholes often use a lorry or knife.  The assholes of the middle east use explosives strapped to themselves, how are you going to stop that?  There are assholes crashing planes and making bombs and creating synthetic heroin that makes one eat other people's faces.  None of this is legal or ok or accepted by society.  And generally, we try to make it harder for the next asshole.  That's why I don't mind if there is a waiting period to buy any gun.  I don't think it is very often that someone needs a gun right now.  It isn't like its milk or bread or toilet paper.  It is a gun.  If you need to go hunting, check your equipment four days in advance.  If you need to kill a rabid dog on your property, call the animal control.  If you need to shoot someone, well, that's why there would be a waiting period.  Of course, a waiting period wouldn't have stopped Las Vegas or Ft. Hood or most of the other shootings.  But maybe it will stop the next one.  Maybe it will stop a pissed off hothead asshole from swinging into Walmart for milk, bread and an AR-15 or any other gun and shooting someone.  I don't think this is what the second amendment had in mind.  Maybe it did.  "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."  Again, not a constitutional law expert, as so many are, but I truly don't know what that means.  I take it to mean that I can have a gun and be part of a militia to protect my state and the federals can't stop me. 
 I wouldn't describe any of these assholes with guns as part of a well regulated Militia.  If the idea of the second amendment was so that I, as an armed citizen, could defend myself against a tyrannical government, well, ok!  But I am pretty sure that I could not own a powerful enough weapon to defend myself against a government's weapons.  But, in the Red Dawn scenario, I would want to try.  And in such a scenario, I think all three day waiting periods would become null and void because we would all be trying to kick a foreign invader's ass.  Same with zombie apocalypse.  A weapon to protect yourself and family and home, absolutely.  Just know there will be a three day period of wait.  Like Good Friday to Easter.  We've been doing that for 2000 years and it's worked out okay.
Now, on to these damn kids protesting.  In all of this debate, I think this is where I am most frustrated.  Why in the world are people so against these peaceful protests?  Yes, I know there were some really shitty things that happened at some of the walk outs on March 14th.  I saw the video of the kids that tore down the United States flag.  I don't think their shitty actions were representative of the majority of the kids that walked out to honor and draw attention to the seventeen victims of the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.   If my kids were still in school, I would have supported them walking out because I know they would not have desecrated a flag, that they would have been respectful of the situation and that their voice matters.  Telling someone that they cannot possibly have an opinion in this is bullshit.  I have seen the memes that (paraphrasing here)  "So you're telling me that last week you were eating Tide pods and now you are an expert on constitutional law?"  Seriously, does anyone think that these are the same kids?  The average heroin addict is a white suburbanite in their early twenties.  Doesn't mean it is all white suburbanites in their early twenties.  Just a few, some perhaps, but not all.  And why can't these kids be experts on constitutional law?  Or at least as much of an expert as those people that disagree with them on facebook think they are.  What I know about the constitution is what I have read on the internet (I used Constitutioncenter.org and loc.gov) what Nicholas Cage taught me in National Treasure (one not two) and what the bill sang about on Capitol Hill. These kids are far more internet savvy than I am, I am sure they know how to toggle between sites, absorb information faster and have the desire to be articulate and informed when they talk to the president or CNN.  Many are voting in the midterm elections, I want them to be educated when they vote.  I want them to be well informed when they go to college or get a job or serve in the military.  Do we really want dissuade the activists and create a generation of adults that only eat Tide, play on their phones and let us swim in our own urine as we grow old because they have zero respect for us because we would not support their right to peaceful assembly.  By the way, that's the First Amendment.  Plus, I am pretty sure it was partly because of protests that I get to go to the polls in November and vote.  And I won't be casting my vote based on who voted what in the gun debate, I will be voting for those that support education because I truly believe if we got our heads out of our asses and supported schools and teachers with less rhetoric and more money, a lot of all the problems would right themselves. 
In 1973, using the 14th Amendment, the supreme court ruled that women had a constitutional right to legal abortion.  For 45 years, people, many of them in high school, have been marching on Washington in protest of this decision.  I have never seen or heard or read a meme disparaging these people.  And I struggle to see the difference, these are two marches that are trying to save lives.  The language on the signs are very similar.  The passion in the hearts is identical.  Regardless of how I feel about gun control or abortion, these young people have the right (it's the first one on the bill) to peacefully assemble. 
Facebook is great for sharing our information with companies that try to sway our votes (don't get me started on that one) knowing when it is someone's birthday or to sell our direct sales company stuff, but it is probably not the best place to change what is broken in our nation and world.  I feel like we have all become Monday morning quarterbacks with absolutely no respect or courtesy to any other team.  We have all become Harry Wormwood in Matilda"  I'm smart, you're dumb; I'm big, you're little; I'm right, you're wrong, and there's nothing you can do about it."  But with a little civility and a pledge to only share memes that are 1. true 2. dog based or 3. are sarcastic, we could actually learn to listen and like each other again.