FROZEN

Dart

Foggy Morning

The Huntress

Currier and Ives

Posing Pretty

Shallow Shadows  

Reflecting

How would you describe the distinctive sound of a Skype call coming in – and my head over tail dive to the stair-well when I hear the bubbles and taps – a headlong dash to my corner of the office where the cordless phone is buried under piles of neglect?  It’s not every day a person gets a call from Ethiopia.  I didn’t know when it was coming and didn’t intend to miss it.

 I’ve been schooling myself about worry.  Duane was hesitantly comforting when assuring me of Mindy’s general safety, which may or may not contribute to my concerns. Headlong dashes through various obstacles may result in injuries or bruises at a certain frantic pace, but calls from Ethiopia rank right up there importance with the Super Bowl and the State of the Union address combined.

Worry is like a Jack-in-the-box (the child’s toy rather than the merchant of hamburgers) and you would think after the many adventures of my very own little Minnie the Pooh, I’d have conquered the beast.   I went to Greece with every intention of laying it to rest, and have made some progress, I’m happy to say.  Still, you know how it goes.  Push the little clown in the box and close the lid.  Crank the handle and crank some more.  Just when you start to relax – Surprise!  He pops up again, just like you knew he would.   

No matter how many times I stuff the worry clown into a box, if I keep cranking the handle, it’s going to pop up again.  Concern because she hasn’t called or written for ___ Days. How’s Mindy, asks so and so?  Haven’t talked to her since _______ precisely.    Enough already: just stop cranking the handle.  Nice clown.  Quiet clown.  Stay in the box and everything will be just fine.

The truth is that worry won’t change a thing.  The girl is savvy.  She’s been around the block a time or two.  She has handed a dressing down to more than one student full of wild oats, although a few battles did not produce a clear winner.  I know her biggest challenges are the mouthy teeny-boppers with a sorority attitude.  And that’s just in the classroom. 

Now she’s facing the battle she can’t win – brown skinned, brown eyed Ethiopian beauties around the age of nine.  Give her a handsome lout to punch and she’ll let him know who’s boss, but there’s not a little kid who won’t be able to count coup over her.   Third grade?  Why did they give her third grade?   Still, velvet-eyed third-graders may have her twisted around their sticky little fingers – but she’s on to their thieving ways.  That jack-in the box is easy to set aside. 

The bigger worries are what I’m working on.  Imagination, fear, hunger, loneliness – what she doesn’t or may not be telling me.  Those Jacks have to be stuffed in more resolutely.   Mama’s optimistic  but Mama has her passport if needed.  I’m glad she’s got a sucker punch and isn’t afraid to use it.

Meanwhile, the report on the scene of  the resolutions is mixed.  Some success.  Shall we say one step forward - strong uptrend on friends and family connections which is lovely, (although have one belated birthday card idle), and one step in place for all the wishful thinking I've entertained. There are several other important misses.  

Chaos hasn't been getting enough push-back around here, but I never said this would be easy. Signing off facebook seems like the solution for taking control of my time. See you in two weeks, or two hours, or maybe two minutes.  Yeah.  I think I've identified the problem:  a facebook addiction. Time for a 12 step program.  Ciao for now.  If you don't see me, I've won.

Coming soon: 12 Steps.  This beast must be conquered.  Stay tuned.

Finding Joy

New Tea

Annie Sloan on the Walls

 All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.

T. E. Lawrence

After pancakes it is a slow Saturday start on the to-do list.

Wearily locking the door last night, I trudged through the snow to the pickup for the drive home thankful that I didn’t have to crawl through the back window.  I had locked my keys inside the truck at lunchtime.  Jerry asked if I was lady-like getting in.   Ha Ha.

I breathed in the fresh crisp air deeply and looked up, refreshed and satisfied.  Stars twinkled brightly in the Big Dipper far overhead in the clear Wyoming night, worthy of a double-take.  Reluctantly opening the door, I stepped into warmth and dropped everything, relieved to find my missing wallet in my hand, covered by the clothes I had changed out of after dinner.

I was woozy over the fumes of my waxing.  No, not that kind, either.  What was the purpose of going to all this effort, anyway?  Just to avoid removing dated pink-flowered wall paper from paneled walls.  We have gone that route before and ended up tearing it all up and replacing the paneling with sheetrock.  Not going there, this time; had to try something else. 

“Did you get any paint on the wall?”  My husband gave me a curious look but I know that even though he brushed away something from my cheek at lunch it was probably Wendy’s buttermilk dip, not paint.  This time it probably wasn’t paint that he was looking at, either.  I would guess the Ghost of Christmas Past reappeared in the fine dust I sanded off the walls and she was me.  I felt dry dust coating my skin, my hair, in my nose.  I have learned to paint without painting much of myself in the process – usually – considering the amount of painting I do, that is.

Two colors of Annie Sloan (Ochre and Old White) applied lightly over what wallpaper stuck firmly to the wall, then clear wax, then…  Well, a picture is worth a thousand words.   The wall – not me!

In the shower I noticed green paint all the way down my calf from 24 hours before.  I had wiped it off quickly then started scooping up the huge puddle of green paint (Versailles) that was quickly soaking into the new forest green plush carpet; a last minute spill.  I was finishing up the vacuuming, being industrious; cleaning up the mess so when I came back it would be encouraging to begin.  Big pieces were gathered up.  Tiny bits of wall paper were vacuumed by a cheap vacuum.  Some renter had left it behind and it probably needs a fresh bag by the looks of things.  At 11:00 P.M. Exhausted Husband was lying on the floor waiting while Afternoon Napper Wife finished some edge cleaning, moving fast.  Over goes the paint, lid gives way.  Green paint on me, on the new carpet, we face the music - together, because we really want to save the brand new carpet.

 

There goes that early finish for the night.  He didn’t say much.  And when he did, his tone made me decide it wasn’t the time for cheery small talk.  Many buckets later, the water turned very light green.  We covered the wet area with several sopping paper towels, a plastic garbage bag and an extra piece of carpet.   Rug Doctor scheduled (me again).  

This is the first week of my New Year’s Resolutions.  I wasn’t even certain I was going to make any this year.  Now I am remembering why I hesitated – and why I ended up with a list. Here we are, four late nights this week in addition to two evenings spent cleaning the garage and sending odds and ends to the big shop, another project.  Another several projects - too many projects.  This rental re-do is months and several promises past its deadline.  It was not the number one thing on my list.  In fact, it did not appear on my resolutions at all.  It just floated to the top by default.

My list is not about work but joie de vivre.  Moments were stolen from my jobs for my joy – to read a book, call a friend, learn the Greek alphabet from youtube.com, and cook a nice meal.  At the end of the week, I think of the things on my list I didn’t get done…and the ones I did.   There were moments I spent just processing – productive in a way that doesn’t seem to count concretely anywhere on my list, but necessary quiet moments sort of like dreaming, refreshing – those that dream in the daytime.  

It isn’t always about getting things done but while I painted, Things That Matter played on my cell phone. Multi-tasking helped me get settled doing my project.  I learned a salsa step while working out, stole moments to take pictures, sent out a birthday card, and refilled the dishwasher while answering questions.  I studied Greek in the car and folded laundry while – oh you get the idea – speaker phones are handy.  

Things to do: 

• Put a notepad by my bed for writing things down. 
• Get the money jar started.
• More Greek
• More Spanish 
• More cooking, home cleaning, entertaining
• Major Bookwork Season - quit procrastinating.

Shooting the Moon

Lucky I'm in In Love With My Best Friend

Where do I want to go this year?

A)        Paris

B)          Alaska

C)           Jackson Hole

D)           Victoria BC

What sport to I want to do this year?

A)          Skiing

B)           Yoga

 C)          Crossfit

What do I want to learn this year?

a)            Greek, Spanish

b)            Photography lessons

What do I want to read this year?

a)            Books I can talk over and share with my boys.

What do I want to wear this year?

a)          Size  6 - 8

How do I want to live this year?

a)            Clean, pretty house.

b)            Save $1 a week x week number.

c)            Blog about the process of this list.

d)           Keep in Touch, (birthdays, thank you’s, )

e)            Cook for Fun and Company

Westward ~ Cedar on the Left, Rattlesnake Mountain on the Right

“Nothing has meaning except for the meaning you give it.” 

― T. Harv Eker, Secrets of the Millionaire Mind: Mastering the Inner Game of Wealth

Recapping New Year's Eve

Such Goings On

Chapman Bench

Everybody should do at least two things each day that he hates to do, just for practice.

William James

My Lefse with Chico, CA Sour Power - Dare you to just eat one.

http://mountainfruit.com/

Found: 

Imported Organic Olive Oil ~ Secret Source

Three Phones

“If you want to make a permanent change, stop focusing on the size of your problems and start focusing on the size of you!” 

― T. Harv Eker, Secrets of the Millionaire Mind: Mastering the Inner Game of Wealth

Organizing Before Breakfast

Cotton Candy Sunset

The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.

William James

Bleck.  New Year's Resolutions.  Well, I am just old enough to know that throwing away the calendar from 2013 doesn't mean the obstacles from the last round magically vanished!  So what to do?  Same old wall, same old me.  So what really has to change?

I hoped for more spousal support.   When he so cooperatively reminded me of my diet, I ate leftover dessert for breakfast to soothe my hurt feelings.  After all, he's the one who sees me naked.  He savors his dinner while I watch.  He remains as trim as the day we were married.  I'm 34 pounds heavier just watching him eat, apparently.

He gives me a list of things to do for the day, and I'll find other things to do, or eat an entire chocolate bar just to show my independent spirit and restate my voting rights.  Not sure what I thought that would accomplish, other than making dessert disappear and sure enough, I was right.  So was he!  Is it in my own mind that if I tell my goals he automatically finds ways to sabotage my plans?  So here are my cards.

Like the Berlin Wall, overwhelming barriers don't just go away overnight.  The barriers to my success are simple: a refusal to adapt to the extenuating circumstances and do the best I can.  I plan to keep my wedding vows despite perceiving food battles and control issues.  I faithfully followed Ann Landers long  before the days of  blogs, Twitter and facebook.com.  If she said it once, she said it a thousand times:  "No one can take advantage of you without your permission."

Personal growth isn't to be taken literally after a certain point in life.  Putting food in our mouths, more than we need anyway, actually creates different and more intense problems instead of solving them.  So does giving up on dreams and wallowing in self-pity.

For awhile I've been observing (following) a couple of people - my daughter, Mindy and Srinivas Rao. Mindy (teacher, traveler, linguist, student) has been adjusting to culture shock. Srinivas is a surfer (life-coach and writer among other things).  How are they connected? Think culture shock and getting wiped out by a wave.

Marriage can be amazing - a friend for life.  His "blueprint" sometimes is as foreign as Ethiopian culture.   Trying to meet the expectations of your spouse and his family can be like getting wiped out.  Thirty-four plus years later.  Yes, I am a slow learner. The stress literally takes me down.  Sleep required, and lots of it (Mindy/Culture shock) so you can get back up and ride the wave that wiped  you out last time.

While I'm mixing metaphors, how about this? A stool can't stand on only two legs.  One leg is keeping my vows of matrimony.  Leg two is not losing my own identity, the knowledge I've gained or amassed that may seem unimportant or insignificant to my spouse.  Leg three is adapting to doing things another way, a way that may at times seem ridiculous - like being a foreigner.  The goal is balance - a three legged stool.  The result?  Who knows, but I want to find out.



Identify the problem.

Lack of self discipline and dislike for being told what to do.

Who is responsible for my attitude?

Me.

Who chooses (controls) what food goes my mouth?

Me.

Who reaps most of the results of my choices?

Me.

Are there all kinds of barricades in my life that are not of my own making which cause me to feel stressed?

Yes and No.

Do I have resources?

Sisters. Brother.  Parental Guidance.  Reasonably happy childhood.  Moderately dysfunctional life.  Knowledge, books, purpose.

Most difficult part?

Not comparing apples with oranges.  A high percentage of our problem is how we measure success.  

Bring it on.  2014 is the year I immerse myself in the gift that is my life.

Date Night -
When we remember  how much we like each other.
(Half Serving - Perfect Treat - Pat on the Back)