Just Smile and Nod

I have something on my mind. In fact, it’s been a little all consuming, and I am afraid that this may come as a shock to those of you who think you know me well. It’s politics. It’s the state of our government. It’s the threat to my democracy. It’s all a little upsetting, all a little consuming, and could very well be the one thing that agitates me enough to send me into early labor.

For days I have been listening slack-jawed to all the things happening on Parliament Hill. I have felt enraged as I have listened to those I would deem “clueless” as they have spouted opinions that go against my sensibilities. And it shocks me to think that they are listening slack-jawed to those like minded to me, dubbing us as the clueless ones.

I rarely speak on this blog about politics. In fact – considering my growing obsession with the subject, it is a little shocking to me that I don’t write about it more. But there is a little fear - a fear that I may not actually know what the heck I am talking about. And I don’t want to be like those people. Like someone I know who talks so matter-of-factly about politics, and other such life things, and it is so evident to all the others in the room that they really have no clue of what they are talking about. But we all smile and nod and pretend…

So, go ahead and smile and nod…but this is what I think:

I think that this whole coalition scam was brought up under the guise of “concern” for the economy, but had VERY LITTLE to do with it. All this is about is 3 poor losers who determined ahead of time that they were bringing down the Prime Minister the first chance that they could. To “strike when the iron was hot” to quote Jack Layton himself, and he prearranged with another coalition member shortly after the election results were announced. POOR LOSER. If that is not premeditated, then I don’t know what is. In the days of the Tudors, all three would be beheaded for treason…but we won’t even go there.

I think it is absolutely crazy how the opposition moans and groans about democracy, and about how Harper is not listening to the Canadian people. He is listening to the Canadian people. We spoke 6 weeks ago, when we voted in Stephen Harper as PM. We spoke when we DID NOT vote in Dion or Layton as PM. And I do NOT remember there being a box to check for the coalition. Dion and Layton apparently do not like the voice of the people, and now are trying to muscle their way in through the back door. And that they call democracy? I don’t think so.

I think that Charles Adler is my new best friend. And you can hear all about his thoughts on the pathetic attempt to steal unearned power in his riveting hit-the-nail-on-the-head article on the “Three Stooges of Coupscam.”

I think our Governor General made a wise decision to prorogue government. Let’s all (and I mean all) just simmer down and take a deep cleansing breath. Let all the powers that be, and want to be have a nice break and share a little Christmas cheer with their families. Let’s just hope that the three stooges can look their loved ones in the eye (though a red face would make a stellar santa costume.).

I think I really like Stephen Harper. But you probably figured that out.

I think I need to stop. All this agitation is not good for the baby. All I have to say is this – my life was so much more peaceful when I was politically apathetic – living in my non-voting, non-caring state of bliss. And I have only Harv to blame. He has educated me. He has sparked my interest, and now we can discuss at quite long length all things parliamentary. And the more I get worked up, the broader his little grin becomes. I think he likes his feisty politically-minded wife. And I don’t think he is just smiling and nodding.

Happy Christmas Season Eve Everyone!

Halloween again. Whatever. I think I have been pretty open on this blog in the past about my feelings of disdain for Halloween. My feelings haven’t changed. My feelings on many things have changed since being all knocked up and expecting. But my feelings about being bullied into handing out free candy to kids all hyped up on sugar haven’t changed. And besides…if there was any chocolate kicking around this house, Harv can attest to the fact that I’m not about to share it. Not even with him. So here I am again, Halloween afternoon, wondering what plans I am going to make tonight so I don’t have to stub my toe as I wander around in the darkness of my own house.

I will confess, amid all this cynicism and bah-hallowhumbugging, there is one thing I love about Halloween. Well, its not so much about Halloween per say, but rather the day after. I love the day after Halloween. It’s the day that all the store owners put away all the scary, ugly, gobliny, creepy crap that has been clogging up the Superstore aisles (and yes, I do mean crap) (though I did see the cutest little furry lion costume this week that would most likely look so adorable on my baby next year...). All the Halloween stuff gets put away, the shelves are cleared, and out comes the beauty of the Christmas season, in all its commercialized and glitzy glory. I can’t wait. The magazines, the decorations, the tacky snowmen. I love it all.

There is nothing that puts me in the Christmas spirit like walking through the stores and being bombarded on all sides by every sort of holly-gizmo, and merry-gadget. And tomorrow it all starts. Maybe I should go to bed early tonight to get a good jump on the festivities. And by doing so I can kill two birds with one stone – being fresh in the morning, and all the while avoiding the glassy eyed stares of children in a sugar-induced state of comatose, looking for just a little more candy to fill their already overflowing plastic pumpkins. Maybe I should go to bed now. Let’s just get this day over with so we can start the REAL festivities that come in the morning.

Halloween Scrooge

This year they are starting EVEN EARLIER! A year has gone by, and I still feel the exact same way...

And besides...I ate all the mini chocolate bars we bought. I guess I better start running the water to wash off the egg from the front door. sigh

And While You're At It...Help Her Too...

So the other day, I stumbled across Martha making this.


Seriously, glittery skulls as a "eerie but elegant" centerpiece is a sure cry for help if I have ever heard one. THAT is a little obsessive-compulsive. And trust me...it takes one to know one. This lady has WAY TOO MUCH time on her hands.

SERIOUSLY, Somebody Get That Girl Some Help...

This is what happens when a perfectionist with obsessive-compulsive tendencies runs to get the rake to collect "a few" leaves from the garden before it gets tilled. I need some serious psychological help (and maybe a good shoulder rub). Sigh.

Immersing the Reborn Waterbaby

I have always loved the water. I remember while growing up, spending hours running through sprinklers, spending the day at the waterslide park, or swimming in any form of pool/waterhole/mud-pit that was wet and available. It was like I was born to be a fish. Over the last many years though I gave up my love of the water. I would like say that it was due to some tragic near drowning that caused me to rethink my connection to dry land. Or I would even like to say that it was from some strange chlorine induced skin rash that has even the world’s finest dermatologist scrambling to find a cure. I would like to say those things, but truthfully, and yes, vainly, it was more of a... “packaging” problem than anything else. OK…I didn’t want to be seen in a bathing suit. There. I said it. Vanity run amuck I realize.

This year I decided to change all that. I got a little tired of sitting on the sidelines (and frankly, it’s too hot out there in the summer!). And so I jumped in. Ok, it was more of a toe dipping, gradual submersion thing, but in I went. I started at a hotel in the spring. It was me, Harv and a hot tub in a deserted pool room. I think the sparse company was only due to the desperate and fervent prayers I was wailing up to the Heavens all the way down the hall way to the pool area. I got in. I liked it. Water is still wet and fun. And the sleeping waterbaby started to stir.

The next try was here in Yorkton at the water park. It was me and my sister having a HOOT with my nephews and brother in law. There was splashing and tubing and floating and the waterbaby was fully awake and wanting more.

And so, it was quite the wet summer, and I can’t get enough. Between the tubing, the lake, the pool, the canoeing, the beach times, and even yes…water sliding (which is a WHOLE other story), I am hooked!! The other week my friend Tia came and we left behind our most beloved craft of card making – to spend hours and hours frolicking in the pool, floating on the “waves” and going down the waterslides over and over and over again. Seriously people, it’s ALL I want to do. So if you are ever in Yorkton, and feel like going for a little dip, just let me know. Chances are, this waterbaby might already be fully immersed in the pool.

A Lesson Perfectly Learned

We raked our lawn last weekend.

Hey, do you know what job a perfectionist should NEVER do? Raking.

Do you know it is almost physically impossible to get EVERY leaf? Especially on a breezy day.

I can still hear Harv chanting in my head. "Let it go. Just let it go."

Creatively Expressing My Lack of Creativity

So Harv is out tonight at a Superbowl party. A night of football and big screen TV; what could please him more? I on the other hand am still fighting the germ pandemic of 2007, which now has been downgraded to a bad cold. I was supposed to go tonight as well, and knowing my love of all night sport-fests, I’m sure you are sensing just how broken up I am about having to miss this. And now I have a whole evening to myself. What to do? What to do? What I do know is that it will have to involve some sort of chick flick, and some form of creative expression (that would be crafts, not interpretive dance…though I could do that as well).

For some reason this night of opportunity doesn’t please me. Lately I have been discovering a painful truth about myself – I don’t handle “me time” all that well. Now don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I don’t like to be alone. It’s not even that I have no hobbies or interests to occupy my time. That is not the problem. The problem, is that I have too many. Should I paint? Should I read? Should I make cards? Should I dust off that old Bass guitar that I haven’t touched in a year? I could work on this journally-scrapbooky thing that I’ve started. I could finish painting the tray I promised to a good friend of mine. I could make Harv a hand-made-with-love Valentine’s card, so that we don’t have a repeat of last year’s debacle. I get so overwhelmed by all of the choices that I usually end up doing none of the things that I hoped for. And then when hubby gets home I’m all grumpy because I didn’t do what I wanted to do, because I could not figure out what that was! I don’t do what I want to do, because I don’t know what it is that I want to do. Do you think that there is any chance in Romans when Paul is talking about the good that he wants to do, that he does not do, that he could be referring to crafts?

Ahh but it’s more than just too many choices. I have issues. Yes I will admit it. I’m sure there are lots of underlying things that are swimming around in this brain of mine, blocking my goals, hampering my full potential. For example, the all or nothing syndrome, the need for perfection reeking havoc in all things peaceful and pleasurable, the fears, the indecision, the insecurities, I could go on and on. My mom said that when she does find the time to paint she realizes the talent that she has built up in her head falls a little short on the canvas. I know that blocks me as well. In my head, I am a fabulous painter. I could be a regular Thomas Kinkaide…ahem…um…but I just can’t find the time. I know that I should really see someone to sort through all this stuff, but I am afraid that I won’t be able to narrow down which one of my many issues I would like to discuss with my shrink. Then I will feel upset that we didn’t discuss what I felt that we should be discussing during our discussion.

I really WANT to partake in creativity. At least I THINK I do. Maybe that is the problem. Maybe I just don’t know myself. Maybe I would rather be watching football than being at home doing crafts!! THAT’S IT!!! Wow…maybe this is a defining moment that you are all witnessing here…a real moment of self discovery. I am a sports lover, not a crafts lover! Oh hubby, you wish…I couldn’t like sports if I tried. Seriously.

Well I don't know if I can figure this all out, but at the end of the night, at least there is one thing that I know about myself…ONE form of creative expression that I actually partake in, and not just think about…writing. And oh look…at least I can say that I did ONE thing that I wanted to do tonight…this post!! Now everything is right in my little world. I better go cancel that appointment with my shrink.

So a Chicken Walks into this Bar...

And now for something completely different...

I would like to dedicate this post to the fairest of all fowl – the chicken. I am having a little love affair with chicken. I realize that there is nothing witty or humorous that can be said about the chicken, but it is truly a post worthy bird.

Do you know that there are more chickens than people in the world? Good thing they don’t ban together and take over. In the movies they talk about the fear of aliens taking over the planet. I think the true species to watch here is the chicken. Do you know that Alektorophobia is the fear of chickens?

So as I was saying, I love chicken. And with apologies to all vegetarians and animal rights activists, I will continue this post. If I had to give up all other form of meat and just eat chicken for the rest of my life, I would do it in a heartbeat. There are just so many options. Cook it whole, dice it and make a stir fry, boil it and turn it into chicken noodle soup. There is baked chicken, fried chicken, chicken souvlaki, chicken on the grill, chicken wraps, chicken salad... This is a very versatile meat!

Do you know that In Gainesville, Georgia, (the chicken capitol of the world) there is a by-law making it illegal to eat chicken with a fork! Do you also know that chickens and turkeys cross-bred are known as “turkins”? Just a few little known facts about chickens (which I got by googling "a few little known facts about chickens". That internet...what a tool).

And now I give you the reason for this post…I will let you in on a little secret that has been changing my mealtime conundrums for the last while. The incredible, oh so simple, multi- meal, chicken mixture that has turned me into a less harried, happy housewife, while keeping the hubby, healthy, happy and not at all hungry. This is what I do…I buy a couple packages of lean ground chicken (more if I am really feeling ambitious), and cook it together with onion, and lots of mushrooms. Then I mix it with a touch of water and taco seasoning. Yum Yum. (You could use chopped up chicken breast, but I am going for quick here, so I buy the ground stuff). This then is what we eat all week. I used it in wraps, for chicken taco salad, in pitas, and my personal favorite…

...the chicken pita pizza. Take a whole wheat pita, top it with salsa, then the chicken mixture, then I add more sliced mushrooms, because I am also a mushroom addict and then 1 1/2 tbsp light grated cheese on top. Cook it in the oven at 425 for 10 minutes or so and you have a healthy and very tasty meal. Add a salad, and even better. (And only 5 points for a pizza. Those of you who care to know that info will know what I am talking about!). Yum Yum. What are you waiting for...start chopping those mushrooms!

Oh and one more thing...did you know that the closest living relative of the t-rex is the chicken? And some of you scoffed when I warned about chickens taking over the planet. I bet that Alektorophobia is kicking in now isn’t it? .

Dissolving the Evolving Resolution

Well it’s that time of year again. It’s time to make those New Year’s resolutions. I realize that there are those out there who have made and broken their resolutions already, but I think I established in my last post that I am a little behind this year. And besides, I long ago gave up trying to start my resolutions at the stroke of midnight. I think that happened the year I resolved to lose weight, but still wanted to party with chocolate until the wee hours of the morning. That of course went out the window, along with the resolve to get to bed earlier.

This whole resolution thing can really take on a life of its own, especially when one is as obsessive as I tend to be. One thing just leads into the other. After all, how can I resolve to improve one area of my life when there are so many other interconnecting areas to work on? For example, I would like to try new things, and try to finally get done some of the old things. I would like to procrastinate less with things I need to do, and procrastinate more with things I shouldn’t be doing. I would like to keep the house cleaner and get a little leaner. I would like to be a better support to Harv in the church, and that reminds me, I would like to shop for a more supportive bra (sorry men). I would like to be more faithful on the blog, and less faithful in front of the TV. I would like to cook a little healthier, and clean out the fridge more regularly. I would like to visit more in the church, and yet, break free of that need to do things that are expected of me, and not that I feel called to do. I would like to keep in better touch with people. Oh, and I need to finally send out those change of address cards. I would like to spend a little less, and buy a little more time for things that I would really like to be doing. I would like to walk a little more, and yet – drive a little more – I am getting out of practice. I would like to read more, and yet – maybe it’s time to stop reading and start writing. I would like to paint more, and do more crafts...which reminds me…I would like to paint the basement, but first I need to sort and clean. So add garage sale to the list…

Oh my, this is completely exhausting. On second thought, I would like to scrap all the above and make a new resolve for 2007. This is the year to finally accept myself exactly as I am. Wow. What a relief. I feel better already.

Oh Stress...Thy Name is Holiday Hustle and Bustle

I'm trying to keep it all together. I really am. I have given myself all the little pep talks about enjoying the holidays, and remembering the reason for the season. I have cut things like baking and extravagant holiday entertaining out of the to do list, and I turned my back on my nemesis - that blasted Christmas letter that I am always vying to write. I even went as far as to buy fabulous Christmas mugs to promote the drinking of hot chocolate and resting by the warm glow of the Christmas tree. But seriously people...it's like I just can't help myself. I am stressed out. I am inflicted by Christmas stress. The holiday hustle and bustle is reeking havoc on my quest for silent nights and a mental state of comfort and joy.

There is so much to think about. The cards. What to write in the cards. Who to send cards to. To add a photo or not to add a photo. And then more thoughts about what to write in the cards. Sigh. And then there are the thoughts on the church Christmas banquet. How did I get in charge of all the decorations? And will those blasted centerpieces look as unimpressive as I am afraid that they will? And how will our trio sound? And will my shoes work? They are old. They are not a great fashion statement. And did I buy the right size of pantyhose? Yes..these are the thoughts that churn around in my brain. Does this sound like sitting-by-the-tree-sipping-hot-chocolate-with-my-great-new-mugs sort of relaxing thoughts? No. I didn't think so.

This is not how Christmas is supposed to be. And the craziest part is, it's all very self inflicted. Take for example the aforementioned Christmas banquet decorating thing - I said that I didn't want to do it this year. I said that if they couldn't find anyone else I would do it - but it would be VERY simple, and VERY low key. So this afternoon while we were decorating I was getting all uptight because it was TOO simple and TOO low key. It's like the burning desire-for-things-simple side of me was fighting with the high-falootin'-perfectionist side of me, and the perfectionist was winning. The perfectionist always wins. It's an obsession and it always seems to win. But does it REALLY win? Since when does stressed out feel like winning? Since when does the angst of getting things perfect feel like a victory? No I think that it just makes me feel all around loser-ish. Why is it that even though I cut things out of my to do list, deep inside I still have the inner angst of what I am not doing? When will I ever really just be able to chill out and just simplify? And I mean really simplify. Not to just say it, but continue on with the inner mental berating that follows me around. I mean simplify and feel at peace about it.

This is such a battle. So much of me wants the perfect little life. I look at a Martha Stewart Christmas, and I want that in my home. I want the real floral centerpieces and the perfectly browned turkey to be served with perfectly matching linen napkins, beautifully flickering dripless candles, and a trail of pine greens cascading down my carved wooden staircase banister. But the thing is - I don't have a carved wooden banister. I don't have a clue how to make a turkey, much less brown it perfectly and in all reality, most of my friends would much rather hang out around a pizza and a good game of Scattegories than a formal dinner. And frankly - so would I. What I think that I want doesn't really seem to fit into my lifestyle - or even who I am. Maybe I just don't know who I am. Wow - I think you are all witnessing a real life identity crisis.

Well, the perfectionist in me would like to wrap all this up nicely with a glittery bow, and tell you how I have found victory in my angst, and how I have grown in this area of my life, but truthfully - I am at a loss. I don't know how to break the perfectionist cycle. And I don't know if I want it completely broken, or just partially broken. But what I do know is that my real floral centerpiece looks very Martha-ish, and amazing, and is giving me daily joy. So in all things there is joy and sorrow. There is some angst in the perfectionism, and there is some joy in it. I just can't figure out if the end result of joy is worth the angst it takes to get me there. But that is something to ponder on another day. For now, I am going to sit by my perfectly decorated tree and try to relax with my new wintry mugs filled with hot chocolate, steaming just like they would in a Martha Stewart magazine. And for now, that is O.K.

The Hoarder's Helpless Holler Part 2

So today I was looking around the blog world and came across a little blast from the past on Melissa's site. This officially proves my point that we should never throw anything away. You never know when something might come in handy. Good thing I saw this...just think how many precious things might have bit the dust all in the name of paring down. Phew...that was a close one.

The Hoarder's Helpless Holler

Oh mercy. I just saw a little segment on Dr. Phil about a woman hoarder. She kept everything from empty pill bottles to old toothpaste tubes. She was unable to throw anything away. I immediately headed downstairs in a fearful frenzy to start in on our storage/junk room. It’s a disaster. We haven’t needed anything from that room in the past year, and yet I could hardly throw anything away. Well, anything except for the goopy, used laundry detergent cup and the way past due vitamin bottle. I found an old, old magazine, and instead of throwing it out, I brought it upstairs in case I wanted to read it! JUST LIKE THE WOMAN ON THE SHOW!! I think it’s too late. I am beyond help. Before I know it Harv will be dragging me off to Dr. Phil (that is if he can find me amidst all the clutter). It will be me, Dr. Phil, and the Cat-lady – the crazy lady with 200 pet cats. I can just see it now.

A Public Service Announcement

I was consulting with my health smart sister about healthy and nutritious lunch options. She suggested ending my meal with a nice piece of fruit. I instead chose to end my meal with a small morsel of chocolate... a substance that I have been avoiding for the last while. Oh dear. I think I may have awoken the beast. Stirred the sleeping giant so to speak. Nothing is safe... hide your chocolate stash, the beast is on the loose.

Oh Dear...It's Starting...

So it begins. It is only 4:30 and it has already started. The kids, the marching, the costumes, the begging for free candy - they are like a little army. I have a confession to make. I know that it may get me blackballed in the blogging kingdom, but I am boycotting Halloween. I don’t like Halloween. Besides the obvious spiritual reasons, there is more to it than just that. I just have a problem with the demanding of free candy. I mean really. What makes it ok for kids (and not just kids) to march around, knocking on doors, demanding that I give them candy, or else they will threaten me with some sort of “trick”, like toilet papering, or egg smearing? And now a days, it is not just kids…it is teenagers and older. And some of them are not even wearing costumes. They are just standing there with a plastic bag and a sour expression. I just can’t do it! What if I really just can’t do it? What if I don’t have any candy? What if I have a candy addiction, and any trace of it in the house will send me over the edge in a sugar free fall? Last year we hardly had any kids, and so we ended up eating mini chocolate bars for weeks. That’s just not good people!!

Y’know, I didn’t even like this when I was a kid. Oh, don’t get me wrong…I was all for the candy. But even when I won best costume in elementary school for the rockin’ princess costume that my mom made me, with the amazing twirly purple skirt and the cone hat with the flowy scarf (which incidentally I NEVER wanted to take off), there was something sort of icky feeling about knocking on doors and groveling for candy. I don’t know why, but I didn’t like it. We mostly went to relatives, and I still felt funny. I always wished that I could send someone to the door for me.

OK…now don’t you all start planning to toilet paper my house. I know, it’s for the kids. Believe me, when Becky brings her two little cutie patooties over at a pre-arranged time, we will be greeting them and giving them some sort of treat, and I can’t wait. You just can’t resist Ben in a dinosaur costume giving a little roar. I’m all game for that. But as far as everyone else…I am boycotting.

We did consider it. We went to Wal-Mart and looked at the candy. But it was so much money, that we decided to buy fruit and veggies instead. We thought that we should have something in our house to eat for the week. So we are boycotting. We are lighting candles and turning out the lights and cuddling in the dark with the 2 free movies I picked up today from Blockbuster. I am actually quite excited about the whole evening. It’s kind of pathetic that we have to be hiding in our own house, but it makes it kind of sneaky and exciting all at the same time! So I wish for you all a good evening, whatever you decide to do, and may we all be free from the tyranny of candy pressure with veiled threats of omelet soup on our front windows!! I have to go now. I need to crawl over to the window on my belly, and try to close the curtains without being spotted by the army!!

Taking the Keep Out of Keepsakes...

Yesterday was a day for boldness. We boldly went where we had not gone before. With great courage and fortitude we took the path less travelled and descended into the depths of our basement. Ok, that is not exactly true…we have gone down to our basement before, but never to spend any quality time. Let me tell you about the basement. When we moved into our house we began the work of settling in, as any new homeowner would. After the main floor was lovingly and painstakingly arranged, and everything was where it needed to be, we banished everything else to the basement. Everything that was left over - every unopened box, everything labled "sort", every article that had no home was piled neatly in the basement. It was neatly piled that is, until the day I needed to find a few things, and the aforementioned neat pile became a tornado-like replica of scattered debris and paraphernalia. That was about when we stopped going downstairs. We couldn’t face the horror.

So yesterday we decided to take some action. We worked ourselves up. We got ourselves motivated. We put our courage to the sticking place (that is a line from Beauty and the Beast that I never quite understood, but thought that it was fitting today). We tackled the job. GO TEAM J!!!! And you should see the basement now. It is just a vision of beauty.

OK – actually we just moved all the junk into the spare bedroom and closed the door.

WE HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF!!!!! It’s a sickness people. I just don’t know what to do with it all!!!! What do you get when one pack rat marries another? An INFESTATION !!! It is not pretty. And WHY do we need to keep EVERYTHING?! Do I really think that I am going to have room for every little nic nac that I have owned since 1979? Does Harv really plan on looking at all his old school materials? Do we need to keep every book that we have ever read? Do we REALLY need 18 different kinds of leather polish? And let’s face it…with clothing…if it ever fits again, do I REALLY want to look like I am straight out of high school? I need my friend Amy to come and do a clean sweep. She is a marvel. I just have a hard time letting go!! What if I regret getting rid of it? What if I need it again sometime?

This gets me to thinking…why is it SO HARD to let go? I am not just talking about my basement now. Why is it so hard to let go in life? I am a pack rat in my own life. I find it so hard to let go of bad habits and wrong thinking, even though it clutters up “my basement”. I feel like so often I am stubbing my toe on the same issues - on boxes and junk that are scattered all over in my life, and I hate the mess, but I can’t seem to let go. Old hurts, false views of God, critical thinking, bad habits – they all clutter up what could be free, beautiful space in my life. And why don’t I let go? Am I afraid that someday I am going to need it again? Do I want to hold on to that painful memory – just in case I need to use it for a wall hanging down the road? Wouldn’t it be like those old clothes – once you move on from them you don’t want to wear them anymore (and sometimes you even think…what was I thinking to believe that this EVER looked good?!?!!)?

Letting go of old junk gives freedom – freedom to have space in my home to decorate, and use as I please. Letting go of personal baggage gives freedom as well. It gives freedom to occupy space (myself) with things that can be used by God and others to make life more beautiful. I think that my new junk room is not the only thing that is on the docket for a clean sweep. But one more question...why is it always easier to throw out Harv’s stuff rather than my own? Hmmmm.

They Like Me!!! They REALLY REALLY Like Me!!!!

Well if admittance is the first step to recovery, then by all means, let the road to healing begin…Hi, my name is Shirley, and I am a glory hound. Yes, that is what I said – a glory hound. This little tidbit of self awareness has been brought to my attention compliments of … you guessed it…this blog. It’s all about the blog people. Yes, the blog…it has been the joy of my days for several months now. But I am finding a disturbing trend. No more disturbing than some of the other quirks about me, that cause my husband daily to get this funny little grin as he says “Oh Sweetie”, but disturbing enough to be blog worthy. I am finding the disturbing trend of a rising or plummeting self-assurance based on the responses in the blog. It’s just not right people. This is not my shining hour! Look away…I’m hideous!! Take for example the last few days. The comments from others in the blog have been plentiful – causing great rejoicing, motivation for blogging, dancing in the streets and a steady hum of the tune “I have Confidence” sung as boldly as only Maria Von Trapp herself could have sung it. But then there are the days where there is nary a comment and one has to wonder…is anyone reading this? I have questioned a 15 year friendship…”No comments…why is she not responding? I have sent her this address three times… She doesn’t love me...” Yes…it is THAT pathetic. Glory Hound. That is what I am. Just looking for the praise of the people. It’s sad really. Let’s not mention the joy and fulfillment that I am finding in simply exercising my creative writing skills. Let’s not think about the chuckles I get coming up with a few zany topics. What about the quality time I get to spend with Abby as she plays by my feet (or rather WITH my feet) or sits and watches me all curled up on my desk? Doesn’t that count for anything?

This sad revelation causes me to wonder…how many other times in my life do I act as if the whole world is a stage, and I am just waiting for the standing ovation? Why do I judge my value according to a four star review? I grew up in a household where affirmation wasn’t handed out too freely. Sorry Mom…but, well... you know it’s true. So don’t you think that I would have learned the skill of self-approval, after all the years of practice? If anything, it seems to make me seek it even more. And I wonder – is that why I find this ministry that we are in so difficult? The expectations are very high, and the affirmation is very low. My dad gave me a “Hmmmmpph…you don’t need to go looking for a pat on the back for every little thing…” last time I shared these thoughts with him. And yes that is true, but why do I still do it? And why do I give others the right to determine my value and worth, when all I need is the approval of the ONE the really matters… God? He is the one that thinks that I am something special. But does He have the address to this blog?!? I guess on the other side of the coin I have to wonder – how many times have I withheld approval, and encouragement and blessing on others that need it, deserve it, and are looking for it? How many times have I had the opportunity to praise, but have chosen to remain silent? If I am so sadly wanting it, isn’t there a chance that others may feel the same way? I pray that I will not withhold genuine affirmation to those around me who need it.

And let me say as I close this little session of self reflection…for those of you that comment on my blog. THANKS. It fills this quirky little heart of mine with joy. And for those of you who don’t…its ok…I am seeking professional help. You are helping on that journey. (o:

Can I Be Honest With You?...

So I was arguing the other day with my eldest, dearly loved sister. This is not an unusual occurrence, as I think she considers it her life’s ambition to steer me on the right path for living. Living as she sees it of course. I’m sure that you can well imagine just how that goes over. It has become somewhat comical over the years, ensuing great affection between the two of us. And there is much love there people, let me tell you (So don’t go harassing her, because the loyalty levels are high.). But as of late, these little life combat meetings have taken a turn in a new direction, causing ripples to flow through our usual smooth comedic discord. It seems that all we can talk about these days is this blog. It’s all about the blog people, and it’s causing quite a hubabaloo. Now don’t get me wrong, I know that she is my most faithful and eager reader…(I’m scared to think sometimes that maybe she is the ONLY one reading this…other than you Becky…) she loves it…though she would never admit that to me directly. It’s just that she has a few issues with me and the blog. In fact during our last conversation I proclaimed in a heated surge of rage that I was going to blog about her next. Thus today’s diatribe.

Our latest blog altercation brings us to today’s topic. Honesty in the blogging world. How honest can we be with the entire world looking on? Just how much dirty laundry can we air considering that the entire world has access to the Laundromat? My sister, who I will refer to as “SHandra” (names have been changes to protect the identity of the accused) feels that this blog of mine is a façade, a guise, a pretence, an illusion. She feels that I portray a life of sunshine and posies, and would like to get to the bare butt truth of it all. And though I am all for peeling off the layers and getting to the nitty gritty of the matter, in more of a “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” sort of setting – I must ask…is that really appropriate for the World Wide Web? Is it appropriate for any day to day setting? When revealing our innermost thoughts to others, just how honest should we be? And when can we get to be TOO honest? When do we cross the lines of deep innermost sharing to become one of those people…you know…the ones that go beyond neurotically quirky to annoyingly troubled? And I guess the biggest question on my mind is this – when you hold a little bit of yourself back, and not dump out the dirt for the whole world to sift through, is that being DISHONEST? Just because I don’t share my every day woes does that make what I write dishonest? I think that there are appropriate times to share from the heart, but I am not that inclined to think that every situation is right for that. But that doesn’t make for dishonesty - It makes for discernment in my opinion. It’s all about balance people. I don’t think that I have ever heard the comment “she wears her heart on her sleeve” being said in a positive light. So I guess for “SHandra’s” sake I would like to keep peace in the family and clarify… I do not have a perfect life. I have issues, and trauma. I spend time floating on the river of rage, and hanging out in the bitter barn. I feel sad at times, and I feel unwanted pressures and expectations at other times. I feel like I am not fulfilling my life’s passions. But there is also much joy. I love my husband and I love my cat. I love my home, and I love my sisters. So just so you know…it's not all posies. But I like writing about the posies, so I will continue to do so, and hold my honest head up high. And if you want to hear about the dirt, you will have to call, cause it ain’t going on the blog baby (well maybe just sometimes). So sorry Sis…this time I will stand up and sing the words of the famous old song...I DID IT MY WAY!!!