Sick and Tired

2010-08-29T21:13:00.000-05:00

I have been trying to get back into the word per my mentor's suggestion for some time now. I have read the book of Ester, and doing it on my own, I just wasn't fulfilled. I have been attending church for some years now in another city. It takes me 35 min one way to get there and is not the denomination I grew up in. They don't seem to study the Word at all as far as I can tell, unless they are in a theology class. In general, I don't know that these congregates would know if Ephesians is in the front or the back of the Bible because I have never seen them use one. This has been disheartening to me as I was raised Baptist.

Baptists, we love reading the Bible. When I was little there were songs about the books of the Bible, games to see who could find scripture the fastest, stars given out for memorized verses. We sang passages in choirs, we read from it every Sunday in Sunday School and in Big Church. Everytime we turned around we needed our Bibles. I was given one by the church in third grade, it was a children's version with pictures through out. And on Christmas Eve, 1990, I was given my first adult Bible by my parents. It had no pictures and had my name engraved on the cover.

I have kept all my secrets in that Bible. I have notes I wrote to my best friend during worship services. Notes that children left me at middle school retreats in Gatlinburg. I have a rose petal from my Grandaddy's funeral. I have goals I set for myself while at Camp Crestridge as a counselor. I have passages underlined over and over in the books Paul wrote. I have verses marked with bookmarks made from Sunday School lessons that are nothing but a slip of paper with a verse on it. My Bible was useful to me constantly. And yet, somewhere in my late teens, early twenties, I slowly, but surely stopped reading, using, filling it treasures. I even found a church that didn't use the Bible...how unbelievable.

I am ready and willing today to read, use and begin filling my Bible once again. This morning's sermon was on the Love of God. Ephesians 3:19 "and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fulness of God." The pastor noted that no matter what we have done, no matter how bad the sin we think there is, that God's love surpasses every sin, every knowledge that we have as humans. I was really glad I had my Bible with me to participate in the service. Turns out, I had that passage marked...it's like seeing an old friend again. Comforting...like coming home.

2010-07-15T11:29:00.001-05:00

2010-07-14T18:33:00.088-05:00

I read some more. And the book of Ester, well, Ester is about courage.

Courage comes in many forms. It shows up like Ester's, in a court at a banquet when everyone is watching: to face a great fear and have great faith. It's when someone dedicates their life to a greater purpose like joining the military during wartime. It happens when a drunk decides not to drink today. It is when we go to God and ask for forgiveness. It is our heart breaking so we can find what it means to truly love someone. To be able to unconditionally love someone for all that they are, were and will be. To love someone inspite of their flaws, quirks or mental illness. It is loving our enemies. Courage comes from the Great Love. The Love that God has for us. Courage is a spiritual principle that God has given us. It takes lots of courage to love such a fallible creature as a human.

Courage is being willing, willing to let God have all of me. Giving Him the good, which is the easy part. And give Him the bad which is harder. I don't want people to know about the bad parts, especially God. I am arrogant enough to believe that He doesn't already know. But it's a lot like going back into the store and telling the lady behind the counter that I am sorry I stole the Smurf figurine from her Riches Store. It's just not something I want to do. It is embarrassing. It is acknowledging that the bad stuff actually happened and sometimes that I did the bad stuff. To be frank, I've done a lot of bad stuff that I am not going to tell you about...ever. And I mean, I don't know about you, but I want God to think the best of me. I want God's approval. Luckily, He takes the bad in stride with the good.

Courage is committing to God as a partner in life. It's being able to scream, kick, cry, say ugly things at God. It's about telling God all the innermost parts of my thoughts and emotions. I am so selfish by creation. My experience is that it takes the spiritual fortitude to overcome selfishness. I have found the Great Love hidden under my selfishness & self-centeredness. When I get out of the way of God, the Sunlight of the Spirit shines through me. I am able to have the courage that it takes to do great things and experience the Greatness of God.

2010-06-28T14:54:00.000-05:00

I haven't read another chapter yet mostly that is because I am still stewing on the last one. Ester goes through this process of making a decision, asking for prayers on her behalf and taking action. I am amazed at how I have read just a few chapters and how much Ester has accomplished. First she was chosen, which took a year. Then she became queen. And now she has to save her people. But there is no time line on those.

How did she know that the message from Mordichai was real? How did she lay out the plan? How long did it take her? How much did she agonize over the results of her actions? How many times did she try out the plan only to fail? While the author has detailed knowledge about Ester, he/she has left out some of the details. Real Life details that is.

When I go to a movie, it takes an hour and a half for the boy to get the girl. An hour and a half and they live happily ever after. It took me four and a half YEARS to decide I wanted to marry my husband. YEARS...

When I read a book, it takes a couple weeks to come to a conclusion. So Ester, in just a few chapters which took me all of 30 mins to read at a slow miserable pace, has been given her fate and is taking action. Surely...surely...taking leadership roles in my own life will take longer and with more failures than that.

The actions that I have taken just today are: a) sign back up for weight watchers, b) go to the gym even though I really don't want to c) write out a prayer and stick it to my bathroom mirror that says:

My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and the bad. I pray that You now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to You and my Fellows. Grant me strength, as I go out from here, to do your bidding. Amen

That took me almost a month to accomplish.

2010-06-18T00:44:00.002-05:00

Ester is faced with great terror. Not just for her people, but for herself. She is to be executed by the King's order. Great terror...

Fear is a nasty thing. It twists around inside of me. It shows its face in so many ways in my life. The greatest fear I face that manifests repeatedly in my life is abandonment. And when I believe that someone close to me will leave me...forever, I lose my composure. When I remember someone who has abandoned me, I feel agony that can surface as anger, sadness, confusion. Once the wound of abandonment is reopened, it takes a while to heal back again. And I smart off to my friends. I cry in my bathroom alone. I look in Ester to find the answer.

Ester did two things when she learned of the great threat Haman had established against her. First she asked for prayers and fasting from Mordachi and his people. Second she took action ensuring her life from the King. Prayers and action. Two constants in my life.

O Lord hear my prayers. Heal me where I am hurt. Give me great strength in times of great fear. Grant that I may be Your servant to those whom you place in my life. Thy will, not mine be done. Amen

Prayers and actions.

Thanks be to God.

2010-06-13T22:58:00.000-05:00

So the King Baby turns the power of being King over to his right hand man. Being totally inexperienced he gives it up to the bad guy. The bad guy's name is Haagar aka Hilter. This dude has serious control issues. He sends out a death sentence for the Jews. Ester's Uncle Mort tells her to go, go to the King and beg, beg for her life and the lives of her people.

What must she be thinking? First you tell me not to say anything about who I am and now you tell me to say something. WTH? Ester has got to be in a panic. Here she is finally getting slightly comfortable in her royal surroundings and you want me to throw it all away?

Life or death dear woman, life or death. I was threatened with a life or death scenario once. I was stalked by terror, bewilderment, frustration and despair. My head was swimming, like I was caught in a spiral of emotions that just got worser. I chose life. It meant giving up everything I had known and walking a different path. It meant having the courage to know the difference. I didn't actually know the difference I just knew it was something different and anything was better than death!

Life or death...

2010-06-06T22:41:00.000-05:00

Cosmetics...what does that mean?

He found favor with Ester and gave her cosmetics and servants...

Ester's real name is Hadassah, which means myrtle. Myrtle branches signify peace and thanksgiving. Hadassah. If we met a woman with a name as such would we consider her Jewish? The way I pronounce it in my head the name sounds Arab. Turns out there is an entire Jewish Women's group called Hadassah. She is from the tribe of Benjamin, this makes me happy because Benjamin is of Rachel, thus Ester must be a great woman if her lineage is of Rachel. Rachel was strong, beautiful and patient. Some of these qualities would make a great queen.

Bathed in myrrh. I compare myrrh to Chanel No 5. It is the most expensive perfume I own and I can only imagine being bathed in it for six months. A year the women were prepared for King Baby. They were doused for a year. I wonder if they are also given a trainer and maybe a shopper who picks out fine clothes for them? Cosmetics is just the outside of the woman. It is the "trappings" so to speak. Something of which I have always struggled with a bit: when to wear make-up, how much to wear, to pluck or not to pluck the eyebrows, what is considered casual, too casual or too formal, jewelry...got lucky with a decent man so most of my jewelry is an easy pick, but every now and again should I wear pearls all the time or just with blue jeans?

She won him over. Prior to the cosmetics, she found "favor" with him. And in the end he loved her because she was kind. All that war of cosmetics and the reality is he liked her before they were added and because of her insides not her outsides. My guess is that her outsides matched her insides. Thus the beauty makes.

I pray Lord God that I may have my insides match my outsides.

Thanks be to God.

2010-06-03T16:12:00.000-05:00

I started to read the book of Ester. I remembered my girlfriend and her bible study group were reading it earlier in the semester and wondering why. What I know of Ester from learning the story a million year ago in Sunday School was that Ester was a jew woman who was a queen who stood up for her people. The part I couldn't remember was whether or not I had ever actually read the scripture or not. That is the way Baptists are: our Sunday School is set up so that we can actually get away with knowing the Bible without every reading it. I know Bible verses by heart from when I was a child that I can say or sing and have no idea what book in the Bible they are in or what they mean in context of the chapter or book.

So I am trying to take Jane's suggestions and get into the Word. I read the preface. I like that no one knows who wrote the Book of Ester. I like that God is not mentioned anywhere in the book by name. I like that it is controversial in nature as to whether it should have been included in the canon. Nothing like a woman to stir the pot a bit.

Then I read the first chapter coincidentally my stomach began to wrench to the left at the same time. I was horrified by the passage. Here is this great King and his great Queen throwin parties for their loved ones and mix in a little alcohol and ego and get a problem. The King is merry with his wine. DRUNK. He was drunk. He calls for his wife as though she were a trophy to be pulled from a mantle. He didn't even do it himself, he sent someone to go get her. While I recognize this passage is a bizillion years old and maybe that is how they did things back then, it is not how we do things now. She says no, because I truly believe that she was born in 1969 and he freaks. I mean FREAKS. Seriously? This great King in my head has just become King Baby: pitches a fit when he doesn't get what he wants when he wants it. So King Baby, being the King that he is, removes the hippy chick from her throne. Why? Because he can. He sucks. His evil servant who suggested the removal says that it will set an example for the men to keep thier women in line: barefoot pregnant and in the kitchen. Seriously? You've got to be kidding me...

Am hoping the story gets better. If nothing else it got my attention.

Thanks be to God.

2010-06-02T14:19:00.000-05:00

So tired of being trapped in my mind. I finally broke down and asked for help. My friend Jane is a wonderful woman. She is crazy as a loon, but a wonderful woman none the less.

Now that I am finally on the other side of stress: I have started on this path to try to work. I don't know where God wants me go or be or do. I just know that I keep waking up in the morning so there must be something for me to do, right? Something other than sending out cyber resumes to cyber companies with no contact in return. No way of knowing if I am even going in the right direction. Jane says that God is giving me this time to take care of myself.

Two folks that have been consistently present in my past ten years on this spiritual journey: God & me.

I have heard it best put by she who will not be named: self care leads to God's will.

It has been a month now...a month. Mostly what I have accomplished is sleep, watching massive amounts of tv and a little exercise. I am miserable. My life is inconsistant and getting more depressing by the second. So I asked for help. What else could I do?

Jane Says...

plan your days
get into the Word
journal
make a care plan for Rae
pray, pray, pray
tithe
pray my ass off some more

The reference for this blog: Ecclesiastes 3.

2010-05-04T18:56:00.000-05:00

Dust in our eyes, our own boots kicked up
May not see it when its stickin to your skin
But we're better off for all that we let in

I have cried for about three weeks prior to exams. I took the exams and for a week, I have no clue what I did. I know that my house became a little cleaner each day. I know that I had a graduation at the end of the week. I know I didn't cry that week. Now that its all over: the work, strife, frenzie of people that had cards and cake and pictures...omg the pictures. So many. Thank God they are with clear eyes and smiles. So many pictures from the last time that I looked like someone had hit me in the head with a hammer bc that is the way I felt. This time though I was SO heavy. Omg heavy. If it's not one thing it's another.

My husband told me to take some time off and just go to the gym and sleep. I have tried gyms. I have done the classes, the weights, the machines and the BIG mirrors. There is nothing worse than a big mirror when you are heavy. But mostly, people who are in gyms are not heavy, thus the vanity. Going to the gym will just make my self esteem lower than it already is. I wasn't raised in a gym. I was raised in a pool.

I don't know when I learned to swim. I remember lessons when I was little. I remember being the oldest child in the class. Everyone in Avondale knew how to swim. I was the odd man out. I don't know when I joined the Avondale Waves swim team, but I was young. Surely it was after I learned to swim.

The Pool. It opened on Memorial Day and closed on Labor Day. It was the best place in the world. We would jump, dive, swim, play. We had a ton of friends and tons of things to do. At some point we would swim across the pool horizontally and back meaning we were allowed to go in the deep end. At some point, Mom quit having to take us down to the pool. We rode bikes, walked, whatever to get there. We would go to swim practice early in the morning and be gone till night. Mom would bring us home for lunch, bring us lunch, send us with lunch money (which was great bc we'd go to the Pizza Cafe, the best lunch place ever).

Then I went to highschool. In ninth grade Casey told me to show up for swim practice at school. Made sense to me. I switched from playing basketball to swimming in a snap. I lettered four years.

Maybe its because I am a cancer. Maybe its because when I take my contacts out, I can't see anything. Maybe its because I just love to swim. Idk. But I know that the past two days I have swam and I feel at home. I can't go very far yet, but I know I can go far. I know that I used to swim a mile without blinking an eye. I know that when I am swimming I feel good. I am tired, sore but not so much that it impedes my daily comings and goings. I love my goggles, cap, flipturning, stroke after stroke. So I guess I will take John's suggestion, just my style: swimming my way through.

2010-04-17T14:41:00.000-05:00

Somedays are about being broken. I took all day yesterday thinking that if I took a day to recoop from school work for a day, that I could get back on the horse and ride it through the next 8 days. Turns out, not so much. All it took was the glitch in a computer printing for me to fall a part. I was screaming at my husband and beating on the computer and in a total disaster of a moment. My husband's last torid comment was "Why can't you act like an adult?!". My answer was BECAUSE!

Yes, it was that bad.

Once I settled down, and my husband disappeared into a world of weed eating, I called my Mom. She did what Mom's always does and reminds me that it is just not that big of a deal and that it really doesn't matter and that it's all gonna be okay. It made me cry some more. I realized that the computer/printer was just the straw that broke the camel's back and that it had been a long time coming. I just broke: gave way to the pressures.

I finished my printing. I mailed my invites. I went into town to do some banking. The whole time I wasn't really all that cognizant, mostly just going through the motions. I came home and made some lunch and watch a little something on tv. And now the headache has set in from the overwhelming onslought of emotional crisis. While yesterday was about rest, today was about emotions.

There had not been a whole lot of God in my day today. I did say my prayers this morning, but I have not prayed since. Mostly just a lot of Self. Whenever I am this full of self, I do break. I have to surender all over again and remember that I am not God. Today is just a day of brokeness. The process of getting to the place to start over...again.

2010-04-16T11:27:00.000-05:00

"Who Knocks at the Door of Learning?"
"I am EveryWoman"
"What do you seek?"
"To awaken my Spirit through Hardwork and dedicate my life to Knowledge"
"Then You are welcome, all women who seek to follow You can enter Here"

My life is totally out of my control. As much as I would love to fit into my Red dress with White polkadots, it is not going to happen today. The last two weeks have been all about what I sought. I started down the path of educational experience three years ago. I recognize that this journey is contributory to me being sick and tired. I am not sick of school as much as I am tired of it.  I am exhausted of tests, papers, the headache of trying to complete the long awaited senior final semester.

As a young woman I completed a liberal arts degree, which was...liberating. I had no tools to find my way in the world. I had no understanding of myself, who I was or who I wanted to be. The education was not for me but for all those who thought that I should have an education. Unfortunately, I was unable to use what I had acheived.  I thought that I should try again. I thought, maybe I could find something to do of use.

Once again, I find myself in the same predicament as I did three years ago: unemployed and of no use. I am sick of unemployment.

I chose this path. I love the work. I love the opportunities it presents. I just hope now that I have found a career, I can get hired.

There has been no obtaining my seven goals that I set. My weight has not increased nor has it decreased. I am still sick and tired.  Just thinking about changing my eating is a tumultuous upheaval of emotions: selfpity, anger, frustration, overwhelming disgust and tremendous fear. My prayers to God lately have been about "get me through this day" than about "help me eat right." Being thin has not been my focus. I made a decision for a different focus back in August of 2007. Now all I have left for that focus is 8 days. In 8 days I will have no more tests, papers, finals. In eight days I will have no more school. In 8 days all life as I have known it for the past three years will be over.

I hope that the hard work I have put into becoming of use will transfer into changing my body.

2010-04-05T18:13:00.000-05:00

Overheard at Easter:

John: That's what you should look like Rae!
Rae: Yeah, well I was dancing for an hour a day, swimming for an hour and a half and gosh only knows what else. So...if you are willing to give up your quality time with me, sure I can be that.

This is the kind of thing I am used to: what I used to look like everywhere I turn. I was a thin, beautiful, active young woman who was in every club I could be, a part of musicals, choirs, handbells, played violin (which requires lessons & practice) and piano, was maintaining a 3.47 GPA, babysat to make money AND had a social life. Can you say WHAT?! 90 miles an hour with my hair on fire. That is me. I still go 90 miles an hour these days and the stress is different but still there. Now instead of getting into college, it is finding a job. Instead of paying for my mission trips, clothes etc, it's paying the bills. Instead of the best GPA, it's being the best person I can be.

Unfortunately, fat means fatigue, fatigue, fatigue. Not to mention I take two allergy meds that both say: may cause drowsiness (uh, understatement!!!). I have never been so tired in my life as I have been in the past couple years.

I have always heard that exercise gives you energy, but here on Day 5, I am totally exhausted. I want to lay down for a nap for about an hour. It would be so nice. But I asked God to get me down that driveway. My best friend has also suggested some modifications to what I was doing. She said the situps are useless at this point and I need to focus on whole body. So I am supposed to jump rope 1 min, pushups 1 min, lunges 1 min (no break) and then run my driveway down and back. Then 2-3 min break and do it again. It makes me tired just thinking bout it.

Of course I also have to research sources for my papers, take a quiz for advanced financial accounting, send out a few resumes, turn the laundry over, do the dishes, switch my winter clothes to spring clothes, pay attention to my husband, get drinks for Beta Alpha Psi function tomorrow and go grocery shopping, not to mention get to bed at a decent hour (1130 would be awesome). Fatigue.

Did I mention it was a beautiful day outside? I mean down right gorgeous? And God spilt my dinner on my kahki's so I have to change...into my workout gear.

You think I could outsource my nap?

2010-04-03T08:45:00.000-05:00

Day One: Started blog over, ran down the driveway.

Now this sounds a bit rediculous to some people: running down the driveway. My Mom could run down her driveway in four steps. Maybe more, she is short. But her driveway is just a bit longer than the length of her car, which means it is not much of one. But then again, I think she lives on a postage stamp. Very small land.

I live on a 65+/- acre farm. I don't live on the edge of the farm. I don't live at one of the four corners of the farm. I live square in the middle of the pasture. When I look out my front window: cows. When I look out my back window: cows. Doesn't matter where I am: cows.

In order to get to where I live, it is .2 of a mile down a dirt road. The entire length of the road, which runs right up to the fence gate is .25 of a mile. This is not a friendly dirt drive. It is not like oh, how sweet, I am driving to the little house on the prairie. It is full of dirt, cow patties, a calf on occasion who gets out from under the wire, rocks, a golf ball (noticed it the other day buried deep), hills and dips and finally levels off at the road and or my shack. It is dirty and rough. But because it is a quarter mile long, it makes for nice laps. Two laps = 1 mile. I don't keep track of time or anything like that because it is just a miracle in and of its self that I am running at all.

In order for me to get down my driveway, I pray in my morning prayers: God get me down that driveway. Of course He doesn't put my running shoes on for me or plug my i-pod in or open the door to the shack to let me out. I am not really sure what He does, but I still ask for help because when I have asked for help in the past, He always helps.

So I ran one mile. I did 5 real pushups (not those pansy girlly ones that just unequalize the playing field and oppress women). I did 100 crunches. I did 40 bicep curls per arm. It felt good. I was sweating like those people in the gym.

Here's to living on a farm with a built in track.

Here's to my red dress with white polka dots.

2010-04-01T17:24:00.000-05:00

I suffer from two deadly sins: sloth and gluttony. I don't ever want to do anything and I want what I want when I want it. This is the King Baby syndrome, although I like to think of myself as a princess. Yes, this is egotistical and down right repulsive, so welcome to my innards. I am not a goddess as those transcendentalists women say about themselves. I don't like to pretend I am something I am not just to make me feel better about myself. It is unrealistic, and I am unrealistic enough with my princess hat. I am who I am, for better or for worse. I have come to a point in my life where I am sick and tired of being sick and tired of my gluttonous and slothful ways. I am at a jumping off place. I am willing to go to any lengths to change...my body. I am sick and tired of the way I look and act to look that way!

So a little about me...starting with my weight. I am 175 lbs. It is not the heaviest I have ever been, but it is not who I want to be either. I am 5'4" so this is a little on the chunky side.

Goal One: Lose 40lbs: I have heard that "you" should have a flexible weight range because we are never one steady eddy weight so I would like to be between 135-145 lbs.

I am a size 12 in Walmart jeans, but a size 14 in just about everything else. I wear a size DD bra which is totally uncomfortable and literally back breaking. I hate it. I would love to be a C again. I wear large to exta large shirts depending on the maker. I don't even want to talk about dresses bc it would mean showing my legs which used to be a great asset and now have things like stretch marks and early signs of spider veins. Bathing suits are out of the question this year unless...I feel like my body is screaming at me to lose the weight. It is embarrasing to shop for clothes and when I get dressed in the morning there is nothing, just absolutely nothing that looks good on other than a tent that I can hide under and hope no one notices me, which with my personality is virtually impossible.

Goal Two: Size 8? That would mean I would lose 4 sizes. Is that 40lbs? I don't know. I hope so.

I love to eat what I want to eat when I want to eat it. I love Moose Tracks Icecream; Hotdogs with ketchup, mustard and relish and a little cheese; Meat Lovers PIZZA with dough crust; White Cheddar Cheezits by the box; Spaghettios, spaghetti for that matter.

Goal Three: Eat more fruits and veggies, less junk

I used to be an 8 Varsity letterman in high school. Mostly, I liked the social nature of sports. I like the teams. I liked that even though I was totally wrung out from swimming a bazillion laps in the pool, Casey would look at me and go: you can do it, get in there and then he'd dive out in front of me without listening to my "yeah, but"s, so I would be forced to follow him and in the water I'd go. These days, I do nothing. When I say nothing, I mean nothing. I watch lots of tv, read a few text books, facebook and make dinner. Sometimes I don't even do chores, just because it is exhausting to do.

Goal Four: Do SOMETHING. Preferably chores and exercise.

I should mention, I have a huge spiritual component to my life. While I am egotistical as all hell, I am also beginning a journey with the God of my understanding, which for those of you who don't know, that would be GOD. I don't think there are more than one, although Genisis is raising some questions about that as it refers to God as a plural beings. Anyway! I am nine years and nine months down this path. There are several things I do on a daily basis, without fail: 1) I pray every morning and every night 2) I try to practice spiritual principals such as being honest, having integrity, awareness of God, helping others, discipline.

Goal Five: Put God in my eating habits, my dress size, my exercise and ask for help to eliminate my selfishness. Make me a temple for the Lord as they say.

It feels like I should have a date to work on some of these...

Goal Six: Wear the red dress with polka dots (sz 10) to my July 4th party!

Seems like I should have 7 goals since it is a holy number...

Goal Seven! Keep the blog up.

2010-01-20T22:40:00.002-05:00

My auditing class has been so different from my other classes. I went to the class with the same professor that I have had over and over and she began the lecture. Not for the first time, it sounded a little like she was speaking Greek. I thought maybe, just maybe I will read the chapter and it will translate better. Maybe, I am just having a distracted day bc it is the first day of class and I am so grateful to be among my friends. I don't usually read the chapters in her courses but that is probably why I have never made an A in her class either!

So I read the first chapter. "Assurance services consist of two types: those that increase reliability and those that involve putting information in form or context of decision making...A major subset of assurance services is called attestation services. To attest to information means to provide assurance to its reliability." Do we like circles? Are we insane? Is it just me or is this GREEK. Turns out, it is Auditing not Greek.

I have been hammering along, listening to lectures with detailed note taking; reading the book like a good girl; working with my teammate on "engagements" and online quizzes...greek.

And then tonight, the eve of the first Auditing Exam, it just happens. I read the sentence and understood it. There are students freaking out all over North Georgia studying for this exam and it hits me like a thunderbolt, I got it. I understand Auditing...well at least the four chapters I am going to take the test over anyway, but probably not so much for a section of the CPA Exam. Whatever.

So being the trooper I am and doing the due diligence for this Exam. Study, study, study....Pray, pray, pray.

Who knows, maybe I will start speaking Greek before it is all said and done.

2009-11-21T17:43:00.003-05:00

Mental Illness has been the topic of my tv viewing twice in one week. Being mentally ill compels me to write about it. Both of the vids I saw pointed out that being mentally ill does not excuse the behavior of the mentally ill person.

The first video was of Jason Brooks the NYTimes writer who faked out the world. He claimed in an interview on FOX that he didn't want his mental illness to excuse his actions, that what he did was wrong and he intended to tell the world about his experience. He was interviewed just prior to going to teach a seminar on ethics. Who better to teach about unethical behavior than someone who has been unethical and immoral?

The second video was one of my favorite tv shows, Law & Order SVU. The prosecutor, Kasey, spares a man's life because he is schizophrenic and was off his meds when he raped and nearly killed several little girls. When on his meds, his actions were so horrific to himself that he tried to kill himself. He feels responsible, guilty and convicted on his own conscience without any regard for what the state thinks. She states that one day maybe he will be able to forgive himself because he's not responsible. "Oh, aren't I?" he retorts...

I have a mental illness. When intoxicated I do things that I would never do when sober. I have behaved in incomprehensible pitifully demoralizing ways. In order to recover from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body, I had to do some real self searching, level my pride and confession of sin for a successful consummation. This discipline allowed me to right the wrongs of my past so I can stand tall and look the world in the eye without any remorse, guilt or conviction. I have assumed the responsibility for my past and now use it to help others know that they too can get better.

My professor saw Mr. Brooks as a sorry s.o.b. who would never amount to anything and should never be trusted. There was no room for forgiveness on my profs part. All I could think was that I would never tell my prof about who I really was because who knows if he would forgive me for my sins? The character Kasey instantly recognized the mental illness and found compassion in her heart to excuse the schizophrenic for his heinous acts despite his own repugnance for himself. Some days I wonder if I can ever forgive myself too.

I hear over and over this question:

Is mental illness a moral issue?

Some days it is and some days it isn't. I find that when my mental illness is in remission my actions are absolutely a moral issue, but when I am in the thick of my disease I cannot not drink. I cannot not be a stark raving lunatic. I go bezerk some days off of my own thinking without ever taking a drink and it is just all mentally irrational thinking: very similar to a skitzoid's. It is a very thin line. Skitzos can take pills and their mental illness subsides, a bit. There is no pill for me. There is no cure. There has only ever been one solution ever offered that seems to work on my mental illness. Most people find the solution to be a farce. These people really believe mental illness to be a moral dilemma. They believe that it is about will power that I am able to be a useful member of society. As much as my ego would like to let me believe that I am truly that strong of a person, I humbly recognize that I am just not that powerful.

The only solution I have ever experienced that has arrested my mental despair is just so simple people don't believe me when I tell them unless they seek it for themselves. It is because there are those who believe and then there are those who experience. The only solution available for my particular mental defect is the Grace of God.

If God's Grace is the only solution, does that make the problem moral? or mental?

Is God's Grace a moral issue?

2009-08-05T07:43:00.002-05:00

"Become willing to meet the challenge of taking responsibility for yourself."
~Language of Letting Go, Melanie Beattie

Willingness is not something I come by easy. Mostly, I don't want to do anything I don't want to do. I have been stuck in the mind of my two year old self for thirty-one years. Generally speaking, the way I become willing is through pain. When I first came through the threshold of pain, the pain was severe. A lot of people have died as a result of the pain I experienced in my life. I was lost, alone, drunk, felt completely separated from God and thoroughly hopeless. I was empty, void, numb, comfortable in my emotional, mental, physical and spiritual pain. And then, finally, when the pain was too great, I became willing. I can hear Dad saying "willing to do what?that doesn't make any sense to me". Willing to do whatever anyone told me to do to get out of the despair, bewilderment, terror and frustration.

I became willing to change.

Today, my pain threshold is not all that high. Mostly, people point things out to me and I am willing to try something different. Sometimes it takes a little insanity before I become willing to change, i.e. I try over and over again to believe that if I send signals to John, he will get the message but inevitably he is incapable of reading my mind and I have to tell him directly what I need or want. He just doesn't have that esp in him. Although time and time again, I think he does.

Responsibility is something people have always told me that I have. I have been babysitting since I was 12 and have yet to get away from it. Just last week I babysat a cat. I have a hard time thinking that I am responsible.

Part of becoming responsible for myself is finding out who I am. I had to find out what was true for me and what wasn't. What worked for me and what didn't. What was mine and what wasn't. I found my defects of character and ask God to remove them. I found my assets and use them to be of service to God and others. Once I know more about myself, I can own my actions. I can be responsible.

I take more responsibility for myself today than I did yesterday. Each day I make a new self discovery. I find I develop through prayer and meditation, through taking the time each day to talk and listen to God. This God-consciousness gives me the ability to be willing instead of having to suffer through pain. It is an easier, softer way. My actions are easier to take responsibility for because they are not so harmful as they once were. It's interesting how when I continually grasp onto the conscious contact with God, things in my life get better.

2009-07-22T21:43:00.003-05:00

Butterflies and Birthdays

I have been making these butterflies all day. These are just a few. They are mostly glitter, paint and construction paper. They are not hard to make, just fairly time consuming. Butterflies have always symbolized metamorphosis to me. Having had a spiritual awakening that was without doubt life changing, I have come to find a small fixation with the butterfly. That whole process of change is ever present in my manner of living these days. I am making these particular butterflies for a women's retreat I am going on this weekend. There are sixteen women and we are supposed to bring something for each of them to put in their box. Don't know exactly what that means yet, but am looking forward to it just the same. I am on the broke side so I am making my something to go in the box. Since this is my butterfly month (I am 33 and I haven't taken a drink in 9 years) I decided to share. I will write scripture or inspirational poems or something warm and fuzzy about change on each one of them.

I can remember being touched when I was younger by an artists' rendering of doubting Thomas in a sand sculpture. I know that I have not just doubted my Lord, I have rejected Him. I was sitting in tonight listening to a few friends talk about making amends. To amend means to make it right. It doesn't mean I'm sorry. To make it right. I don't know if I can ever make it right for rejecting God. I do know that every morning and every night I embrace Him with prayers of gratitude, petition for me and others, of praise. I try my best through out my mundane day to hold His "hand" and thank Him when I see His presence. This is not the life I used to lead, but it is the life I lead today. It is a discipline that I have achieved as a result of a lot of pain and a little guidance. I can only imagine that as a caterpillar is wrapped inside that cocoon, at some point it becomes so uncomfortable that it has no choice but to break out and be a butterfly. That is my life in a nutshell, I was so uncomfortable, I had no choice but to be the butterfly God would have me be.

2009-07-12T23:11:00.002-05:00

"What can you do today to stand together and believe with and for one another?"

Today I stand shoulder to shoulder with my friends, trusting in God, practicing spiritual principles. Today I pray. I pray for those who are sick and suffering, in great pain, those who are mentally ill, those who are in such need of God's grace that they know not what they do. Today I can love, give comfort, not judge, just listen. Today I can show someone what God's grace did for me and not just tell them what I think it can do for them. Today I can stand, hand in hand with others and have faith not just through my thoughts or words, but also in deeds. Today I am honest, openminded, faithful, courageous, have integrity, willingness and humility, have brotherly love, discipline and awareness of God and most importantly: I am of service to God and my fellows.

2009-07-11T13:44:00.002-05:00

Grief is... undescribable.

Growing up my Dad used to say to me, "do what your told and don't give me any grief." I still don't really know what that means.

I do know that grief is a feeling like a twisted heart. It makes you cry, it makes you stay very, very still. It makes me want to scream and hit. It makes me hope

that if I just smile a little brighter,
make a better grade,
be a better leader,
stand strong in my self,

it will please just
go away.

Its having my insides just up and dump out on the floor when I least expect it.

Initially, I thought I was going to die it was so painful. That was eight months ago. These days it is a thought that just makes my eyes water with a painful smile that comes across my face in hopes that no one will notice or know of the reminder. I continue to experience things each day and there are days, not every day but some days, when I think she is not here to see this, hear this, know this, experience this with me. WHY did She Go?

Then there are other days that are the greatest day of my life. I work, laugh, play, love with no attachment to the past or the loss. I move on and she is not a part nor do I feel like she is supposed to be. I don't notice. There is no shadow, no tug, there is no wonder.

I know that one day it will just be a story. Something I can tell someone else and let them know that there is change, that life becomes okay again and that while relationships end I don't have to. I can keep going, keep playing, creating, loving and maybe share all of it with someone new.

2009-05-13T22:28:00.002-05:00

And we sit here in our storm and drink a toast
To the slim chance of love's recovery.

I was working with a woman today on not drinking. It has overwhelmed me with the things that I remember when I share myself with someone else. On a daily basis, I forget the horror through which I survived until I share it with someone else who needs to know hope. She needed to know there was something worth working for and I know there is: I have lived it. I am living proof there is a miracle for all of us. I am a burning bush, on fire and not consumed. More importantly, I have the ability to give love to someone else today through sharing the debacles of my life and how I got through them.

Sometimes I don't remember in my drinking. Lots of missing information in my mind. I will sit here and think and think and think and try desperately to bring back an event I have been told about and there is just nothing. Nothing. I can't do anything about to hell I have raised and don't remember. Strangely, remembering nothing brings hope to her because she has periods of blackouts too. She knows that if I can not drink, she can not drink.

I can remember thinking that I was the only one who couldn't get themselves together. That I would be the one people referred to as a real drunk. I would be that drunk woman at the bar that night. I would be the only one who was unsuccessful, who vanished because of a drunk driving accident. I would be the one who people forgot.

I was in a storm all the time. I drank thinking it would stop that storm not knowing that was part of what was causing the storm. If I could just...not...drink...

Who knew?

There is a miniscule chance that I will never take a drink again for the rest of my life.

A slim chance. Here's to love's recovery.

2009-04-14T20:30:00.004-05:00

I read a blog today that had a guest poster who was a journalist. His outlook on life seemed...bleak, at best. He was 28, single, well educated. His balloon of hope had been burst as a result of surviving his twenties. That fantasy that reality was a storybook was overwhelmed by the reality that has set in from the global issues he has entangled himself in as a result of...idk exactly.

I can remember coming to that realization that the world was full of it. I was angry, hostile, bitter, unable to complete a sentence without four letter words sometimes using them in the middle of words (except in front of my Mom for fear of abandonment). I was confused, overwhelmed, unsure of myself or my surroundings. Nothing made sense and the only thing I could see was others and their stuph. I couldn't see me. I didn't want to see me. No one else did either! for that matter!

I had to seek Love to find me. When I finally stumbled onto myself after a few years of uncovering, discovering and discarding, I had to go through a process to learn how to be me. It was strange. I continued to seek Love in my life. I found myself Loving those who are easy to love, those who everyone Loved. Then as I continued to practice being me, I found compassion for others with great capacity available within me. Then one day, I found that Love for me. It has only been recently that I have begun Loving myself. Loving me the way God would Love me. Whew, it is hard. I want to judge me, put me down, feel less than you, pity me, greater than you and arrogant with force. I want, I want, I want. But when I love me with God's Love. There is no defect of character, only perfection in imperfection.

Now I am sure you noticed that there is nothing about the world in my last paragraph. Because when I am focused on God and His Love, the rest of the world fades to grey.

I had a man who led a Disciple Now for my group when I was in 9th grade at Carla Dobbins house. He had a glass full of sand and several ping pong balls. When the sand is in the glass there is no way to get all the ping pong balls in the glass. We got two in the sand filled glass. When the ping pong balls go in the glass first, the sand fills in around them and meets the brim. The illustration has become paramount in my life today. When I put God first in my life, the world fills in the cracks, but is no longer dominant.

All those reality crushing heartbreaks the young man was going through just because he could only focus on the world and not God, it was a painful post for me to read. It reminded me of the hell I have been through and that I never want to go through again. Today, I have a choice: Seek God or be swallowed by the hell of despair. I choose to be a Seeker. I hope the young man Seeks Love too.

2009-04-09T23:26:00.002-05:00

God Bless me, Bless me indeed, Bless me a lot,
Enlarge my territory
Lay Your hand upon me that I may not cause harm,
Guide me as I go throughout this day,
Thy will not mine, be done

I say this prayer every morning. I think I came up with it when the Jabez prayer became so popular. I am not sure it is the actual prayer of Jabez, but it is some form of it that I remember. Here lately, I have been in a place of a larger territory than I have known in a while, partially literally. And while the territory it expanding, I am not quite used to it and mostly just feel stretched out.

Growing pains?

All of it, for the first time in a long, long time is good growth. I have had so much growth that was to "overcome" the odds, that this kind of growth is unfamiliar. It is having friends who know me, but not so much and being able to love them for who they are and not for what they do. As a result, I have great relationships. It is being able to continue old relationships that I thought would never go on and on, yet they do. Then I come to find that they have changed and it is just okay. Change is not so scary after all. It is finding someone who has been there all this time, watching me, loving me and being the brother God had picked out for me and stumbling onto the relationship as though it were new and fresh despite knowing him for a decade. As I look inward on this relationship with this new/old brother, I realize I love him too. What a great feeling to have such a raw emotion, a vunerable place to be with another person who would have never been the one expected. It is growing back into the comfort of laughter with my husband again. Knowing that who we were surfaces despite poverty, absence, death defying acts of car dodging in the street and that we just love to be with each other in the midst of all of it, and we laugh. It is wondering if I will ever have time for all these people in my life while I am pursuing this path God has set in front of me? Large growth.

I am hoping that the territory that God has enlarged is actually a garden of my soul. That maybe just maybe I am growing some really cool flowers that only come up to bloom once a year and then others that are just plain Rae: blue hydrangeas. It kinda feels that way as I go from person to person. Some are hydrangeas others yellow roses, and still more are butterfly bushes or some strange wild orchid. Which are you?

2009-03-21T21:45:00.002-05:00

I have been so busy lately it knocks the breath out of me when I take it all in. I know that I had a spring break from school, but there are so many other things that I am overwhelmed to think that I will do all this and school too next week. My daily routine has something booked for every hour of the day.

Today was a great day, today I had morning plans and evening plans but no plans in between. Just me and nothing and nobody. When my hubby got home from running errands he had gone off and bought me a new necklace. Woohoo! What a great Saturday gift! It is a hippy necklace with an amber center piece. I love it. He got it from the hippy folks at Sweetwater. Gotta love sweetwater. Definitely making a stop there tomorrow prior the break being officially over.

I think about those people who have those pda's and are all organized with their lives and wonder if I am ever going to be one of those people. Those people who have time to book their lives in a pda. I just go. I don't think or plan or any of that nonsense I just go.

My Monday starts early with prayer and meditation, goes to work out at school, go to class, go to work, go to coffee for asc, go to the farm to study for test, work on papers, close with prayers and go to bed. Go, Go, Go.

I remember being like this when I was 16 or so. I loved it. My life was full. My God was present. My happiness was great and there was no time to think or get in trouble. That is why I am so grateful for my go today. Going means growing means God means my life just keeps gettin better.

2009-03-07T16:28:00.002-05:00

John and I have not seen a lot of each other lately despite being in the same 20x20 space. I have been sick. He has had finals (two A's in his classes, btw). I have had friends to help. He has friends to help. I am asleep before he ever even starts to get to bed. So Thursday and Friday, after work and school, we made time for each other. No one else, no other phone calls, just to catch up. After all, all we've done for weeks is sleep next to each other. Thursday we went out to a really nice dinner in Dahlonega. Friday we went to a movie. Normally we'd do this all in one night, but we did still have school and work.

The movie is what I wanted to talk about (surprise). We saw Watchmen. It has all maybe up and coming actors in it, all of whom I recognized but none of who I could name. The one I liked the most was the return of the badass kid from Bad News Bears who has been on drugs since that movie and is back. Finally. The film had been panned in all the reviews, but it was that or nothing so, whatever.

The Watchmen is a lengthy, disturbing piece fragmently done by the same director as 300. I thought it would be more computerized than it was, but mostly it was a dark graphic novel. The director left no room for imagination drawing out every detail including the sex scene which was just short of a porn scene. There was some amazing art that came out of the movie. Several scene that appeared drawn out of a comic, but apparently film. They will make for great posters on college kids walls. It is not one I would ever see again or even buy from the $5 bin.

The part that I liked, was the plot line. The concept that superhero's aren't so super. That they have human traits that are super sized. The main prescence was the Comedian. He was an ironic charater that created chaos, had no conscience, and nothing about him was all that funny. Everyone seemed to hate him actually. Then there was the Silk Stockings, the female superhero, who was a slut and a drunk. What a contraversy: superheroes with super character defects. How could they believe in a God? They were gods. It was like they were lost. Even more interesting they all aged. I don't know that WonderWoman has ever aged in my mind. I would assume that she is Wonderful forever, immortal. But the Watchmen are every bit humanized. The most interesting and greatest painter because he liked hacking on folks due to his cracked psychosis, was Rorschach. WOW. This guy had the best lines in the movie ie "you think I am locked in here with you, what you don't know is you are locked in here with me." He then proceeds to burning a guy with fryer grease shortly thereafter. He was the psycho of psycho. His irony was contained in his unrelenting loyalty to the saving of the human race. Crazy sob with a purpose. My kinda guy. The character development was tremendous by every actor. The sets being in a twisted 1985 (Nixon was still president) were very well done. The throwbacks to Dr. Strangelove were appreciated. The cracks at our own history were not really all that funny, but a nice touch. The costumes were on the mark down to the earrings.

I am still thinking about the movie and it is long gone. Maybe I will buy it in the $5 bin.

2009-03-04T16:40:00.002-05:00

Okay, so this one took a long time fo rme to watch. I skipped over American Psycho because it is a bad movie and was about to skip Anne too because it is a long movie and then...and then, I got sick. Whenever I am sick for sure, PBS has Anne of Green Gables on tv. So I didn't ACTUally watch the movie I own, rather the tv, but whatever. I watched both Anne of Green Gables and Avonlea which I own both. Did I mention that I LOVE ANNE? Well I do. So this review is slightly useless because everything I think is that it is awesome and great and perfect for every little girl who has ever had an imagination, felt a little different and wants to overcome. Anne of Green Gables is the epitome of family movie. Unfortunately, it is 8 hours long. Anne of Avonlea is also amazing, but also 8 hours. So if you want to watch it from end to end, then you are talking 16 hours. The only time I am able to sit still for 16 hours these days is when I am sick. And I am sick. I was so glad it was on tv. Made me feel like I was at home with Mom.

2009-02-13T11:36:00.002-05:00

This is where my West Wing obssession began, all with this movie. It is written by Aaron Sorkin, which makes it awesome. It is directed by Rob Reiner, making it a great romance. It has Michael Douglas, Annette Benning and Michael Fox, making it a great cast. This is one of those movies that I watch and always, always, always feel better after I've watched it. If you are looking for a good v-day movie (since it costs WAY too much to go out right now), this is it. If you have never seen this movie before and want to get all the jokes, you have to see it twice. Also, it helps (according to some g-friends) not to drink wine while trying to watch Aaron Sorkin's work. He has a tendency to go quickly and you need all your brains in order to participate.

This movie was much more viewer friendly after my last flick. It is a great romantic comedy. I highly recommend it. I think right now it is in the $13 bin at the Wally World. Totally worth the while. Watch it, love it.

2009-02-06T21:40:00.003-05:00

I'm sure you can tell by the poster, this movie is not a family friendly piece. I can't remember how I found out about this film. I remember it being in a conversation with a friend, after it was out of theaters. I can't imagine seeing this film on the big screen. I am not sure it was something that even played in many theaters in the city because of its graphic nature and rigorous, brutal truths. The visuals in this film are beautifully disturbing. The plot line of the film is a rehabilitated skin head, Derek Vinyard (Edward Norton) trying to save his brother (Edward Furlong) from the crooked path of the hate and violence within the culture of the white power movement. There are two scenes in this movie that are poignant and artfully done, but unfortunately severe. One is of the racial murder Derek Vinyard (Norton) commits and the other of him being raped in prison.

Edward Norton should have won an Oscar for the performance. Norton projected enough anger that the audience could feel his seething hatred through the screen, his path to redemption is equally stirring, hopeful and real. The movie is shot in black in white to represent the past aligning Derek's character with old beliefs, motives, understandings and anger. The other half of the film is in color masterfully allowing the desperate nature of Derek to change flourish. While black and white film has it's limits, it is a perfect contrast for the white on everyone racial violence that occurs as result of Derek's brainwashed, deluded, powerful thinking. The color filming allows the audience some peace, and break the tension created with the association of the black and white anger and violence.

This movie is amazing. I would let every senior in America watch it and let it provoke exactly what it is meant to provoke: discussions on racial violence in cultures, in education, in criminal activism, government programs; discussions on hate and fear and the radical power it has over our daily lives; discussions about what true brotherhood is about, peer pressure, thinking for one's self, the consciousness instilled in us by our parents, the very being and nature with which we project ourselves to others. Unfortunately, it is graphic and excessively disturbing. I love this movie. I watch it every once in a while to remind me of who I am and who I can be in a blink of an instant if I let my anger get the better of me.

I recommend anyone see it, but know, you will be disturbed.

2009-02-06T13:06:00.002-05:00

I have the day off today, so I thought I'd blog a bit. I have watched two more movies. One of which is new as in just bought as in now I am up to 155 movies. But let's stay in order shall we? I actually didn't watch Almost Famous, not because of any other reason than I think I have worn out my dvd! Almost Famous has a delightful story about a boy who wants to be a "rock journalist" and gets a gig to do just that. His perception of "the show" is eye opening, to say the least, in what it was like to be on a rock tour in the seventies. While the band is fiction the story is autobiographical in many ways of the director, Cameron Crowe's life. He at one point was a teenage, youthful man writing for Rolling Stone covering bands such as the Allman Brothers Band and the like. Creating a surreal environment of rock haunted by the "real world" laced with emotions of love, life and laughter, this film gives insight to the seventies, the life of rock n' roll and one's self journey and discovery. Kate Hudson wins my heart every time with her Golden Globe winning scene of Penny Lane (Kate's character) discovers the man she loves has traded her for $50 and a case of beer. When this clash of sincerity of purpose and stark realism occurs, Kate takes us through every emotion one girl can have and comes out on the other side with wit, casual laughter and charm. I watch this movie not just for the amazing acting and directing, but also for the music. I am a huge fan of seventies music (except Floyd--sorry John) and this movie is lined with it. It is one of the few movies that while could have been made into a music video as many movies have been, was appropriately moved forward through the plot by the music. Instead of John Williams, we have Lynard Skynard, Elton John, Simon and Garfunkel, the Who and many others. This movie is one that everyone should have seen in the theater, bought at the high dollar price of $21.99, rented until they just sold it to you, watch all the time. Thus the reason I couldn't go through with it again, as I have worn it out. I love this movie and don't even have to watch it to know it.

Now, as for American Beauty. This movie won 5 Academy Awards and I still don't get it. It is well filmed, well acted, haunting music. It has unbelievable imagery in it and stunning woven plot lines. All in all, it is a great movie. It is classified as a dark comedy, but I classify it as weird. There is nothing comedic about it and it has the strangest ending. I watch it because of a love for Kevin Spacey, Annette Benning and the actors loaded into the cast. I am always amazed at how odd of a movie it is. I don't watch it often and have never been tempted to buy it, but Walmart put out a $4 bin. So now they tempt me with not $5 bins, but $4 bins and what is a girl like me to do when a great movie is in a bin that is less than she would normally pay? I don't particularly like the movie, but if you can help me on what is it I am missing, I would appreciate it. This movie gets a great listing but only if you can get it for four bucks, because it is hard to understand.

2009-02-01T17:10:00.003-05:00

Sometimes my head just starts blogging on days like today. I have been crazy like so crazy, and have been afraid to even blog about movies that my crazy would shine through and all of the sudden some random employer of my future would find me unfit for my job ten years down the road thusly leading me to becoming less than and unwanted. Ewwwwwe......is a really nasty fear. But then there are days like today when the crazy sets its self aside and I go back to being the person I love to be, me.

I woke this morning to cold and uncovered feet in need of the warm fuzzy socks buried somewhere in the depths of my soft cotton sheets layered with quilt and down comforter. It is hard to pray with cold feet. To my surprise, I found my socks and headed where everyone goes first thing, the bathroom. I was only partially awake but realized that I just couldn't stand to look at the grossness of the floor of the bathroom any more. For no apparent reason, I cleaned my bathroom. One of the substances I used on the toilet is called Lime Away. By this time my socks were off as I had at one point to climb into the shower to clean it and they were laying by the side. Once I was satisfied with my work, I moved onto the mudroom, then the kitchen, then the VACCUUM! Would it never end? My husband got to a stopping point with his homework and suggested we go to Sweetwater where the coffee is good and the people appealing, and I said sure, but I needed to take a shower first. As I finished scrubbing my head and started in on my feet, I noticed that my left foot was red and burning. Something like a rash had taken hold. After the shower I had John take a better look to see if he knew what had overtaken my foot and he suggested aloe. What a smart man. It made it better. For three seconds, only to find that now I could not put a sock on it as it burned even more and worse than before the aloe. I began to look a little more closely at the rash to notice that it looked a lot like my fuzzy sock exept burned onto the top of my foot. Acid burn. Thank goodness I retained something from school. Kidding, I remembered from Fight Club, acid burn=baking soda. Instant gratification like I have never experienced. So now, I don't know if I should wash the Lime Away infested sock or throw it out and by another pair? But enough about feet, I needed good coffee and appealing people. It was time for Sweetwater.

The reason I like Sweetwater so much is that it is truely an oasis for my heart. When I am a little bit crazy, a little bit lacking, a little bit joyful, a little bit in need of something, I go to Sweetwater. I have spent months on the porch of that place smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee trying to find out who I am only to discover that I don't know. Now a days, I just go for coffee and let others smoke for me, but I like to sit and talk or not talk, just drink and let me rest. Today was especially unusual as before I headed out the door, I did an exercise in letting go. I gave God my fears through writing it down on paper and throwing it away. Initially there was one or two folks at the coffee shop. But out of nowhere a man with a funny looking case came in and another woman with a guitar and a third with a banjo and fiddle. They played for hours. I sat and drank coffee and listened for hours. I got to know these kind very professional, musicians. They made me want to play my violin, sing and stomp my feet. Instead, I just tapped my foot and listened. They played celtic, irish, blugrass, old american folk songs. They sang solos, harmony, duets and sometimes just played along, and along, and along. They joked in between, got up for more coffee, laughed at nothings which of course led back into a random chorus of something. It was just wonderful.

After a while my long time friend walked in who lives in Atlanta but for no apparent reason came to the coffee shop. We hugged and talked and loved each other the way we do. He and John spent time sharing some experience, strength and hope. We also met his sister who was dating our favorite waiter. There is something healing in seeing old friends and catching up. Something that makes the crazy seem less important and the love more important. All the while the music played and the coffee flowed.

I have been a little bit of crazy for a while. My heart has been burned like my foot was earlier today. This mystical group of wandering musicians were the base for my acid burned heart. God did take away my hurt and sorrow as soon as I gave it to Him. Just like that. There is nothing better than good coffee, good music and good friends to sooth the burn.

2009-02-01T10:44:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I haven't posted in a while because it took me so long to be willing to watch these movies. But I am going to review both of them with a housecleaning type entry because I don't really care for either of them despite being a huge Jody Foster fan and knowing she won the oscar (Of course).

About a Boy is a lovable story about losers. It is a comedy with elements of tragedy of the human condition, luckily no one dies though. Mostly this is Hugh Grant exploring his ability to do something different in acting. He pulled it off, mostly because I think he may have been playing himself. The boy is a strong charater and has the great unfortune of wearing some of the worst clothing ever made. It is a feel good. It is not worth seeing in the theatres and while I own it, I bought it in the bin at Walmart because I thought maybe it might be worth my time. I do not watch it often, because it is so normal, but it is uplifting in some odd way. Two stars as they say?

The Accused was probably sensational as a movie in the seventies. For those faint of heart it does have a fully filmed gang rape scene in it and do not suggest this movie for just anyone. Jodie Foster is AMAZING. Why this is unusual? It's not. Kelly McGillis on the other hand, is not so amazing. Working next to Jodie has got to be hard. Kelly was out acted through out the whole movie, not that she is much of an actress any way. The constant actor versus non actor comparison makes the movie hard to watch outside of the content and almost makes it a bad movie. It is a so-so movie. I bought this one too in the Walmart bin. I don't watch it much because of the content of the plot being about rape and the graphic nature of the film, but it is a grade A film with not so great acting. Beware. Again, two stars? Maybe three...I would have seen it in the theatres in the seventies had I not been 2. I would own it too, but am glad I didn't pay too much for it.

2009-01-11T22:21:00.003-05:00

Nothing like a western to throw in the mix of girly movies. That is the nice part of having the movies in alphabetical order, never know what's next. I wasn't sure how to file this because of the colon, so it is three hundred ten. Whatever.

This film rocks my world. I actually watched it twice and all of the special features prior to writing this entry. To make a good western is not easy. It has to be believable bad guys, good guys, an old fashioned shoot out at the coral and a good woman or two. The plot line in the movie is always simple but the characters, well that's what determines the western's worthiness... at least to me. This movie has all of that and more.

The characters relationships are developed from the first scene of a child coughing due to tuberculousis and his big brother who reads dime novels about outlaws. There are relationships of fathers and their sons, honor, decency, poverty, marriage, loyalty, down right rotteness that makes todays thugs look like chumps and through out it all, a strange twisted friendship between a murderer and a rancher.

The costumes are specific and elaborate. The bad guys wear what they can find and have a mixture of business men's vests and hats to civil war coats of leather. The guns are six shooters and double barrel shot guns, even a gatlin machine gun is used. The scenery is real to is point of abuse to the actors themselves. At one point we can see how the wait of the dress keeps Dan's wife, Alice, in a constant state of sweat due to the Arizona desert mixed with the layers in a woman's clothing. The music is always pensive and encourages the audience to stay with Dan on his quest to put Ben Wade on the train.

This movie is well acted, well directed, well produced. The characters change and grow with the interaction of each other allowing the audience to recognize that bad guys aren't all bad, good guys are all good and weaklings die in the old west.

2009-01-09T10:21:00.002-05:00

I love this movie. Mostly for personal reasons. It has reality, humor, tragedy, self discovery. Sandra Bullock plays a drunk trying to get sober in a 28 day rehab center. She has a beau who is also a drunk and the epitome of who she was before she made a decision to get sober and a "friend" who is in the same situation she is, where sobriety seems to be a possibility. There is some romance added in for flavor, but not in a sense of the boy meets girl movies. This light hearted look at addiction addresses some real issues of addicts such as relapse, jails, and death. The characters who she goes to treatment with are a mix of rich, poor, smart, young, old, not so smart, jocks, and goths. This is a good cross section of people that gives the ensemble a lot to work with for their characters, but also allows the audience to see that addiction affects everyone. The movie draws you in through a fast past sequence of events in Gwen's (Sandra Bullock)drinking into the slower paced life of rehabilitation. There is a crisis point when in rehab where Gwen has to decide for herself if she really wants to be sober or not. Through Sandra Bullocks acting, we are emotional tied to her decisions, we recognize her pain and confusion and the audience member is swayed into the movie. From that point on, we fall into the movie easily.

I would watch this movie over and over and over. I did not see it in the movie theaters because it came out while I was in rehab, but I would have and own it and watch it regularly when I need a little encouragement. Watch it! You'll love Gwen and wish her the best of luck in her journey.

2009-01-06T12:43:00.002-05:00

I am a huge Grey's Anatomy fan. Every time they showed the trailor for this film in Grey's, it made me want to see it. Then it came and went and never saw it in the theatre. Then it came and went and never rented it. Then out of no where, it was in the $5 bin at Walmart and I bought it. I watched it. And then I realized why I never saw it in the theatre or rented it! I love Kathryn Heigl. She is so good on Grey's. Her transition to film is a take what you can get kinda thing. This movie is like a "hey I am in movies now" kinda piece. Don't get me wrong, it is cute, but predictable. She does her work well, it is just a silly movie. I think what I dislike the most is that the costuming was horrible. They put this beautiful tall supermodel in Meg Ryan clothes. She doesn't fit in Meg Ryan clothes. She is TALL. What's worse is that she was taller than her love interest. Over and over it was aweful. Her humor is great. Her acting is the part she play in Grey's which is what most people want to see. But the movie, not so much. It is a once in a while watch. Maybe close to a one time is enough. At least I made it all the way through. Some movies don't even make it that far! It does have a feel good notion to it. Girl meets boy, doesn't like boy, is the obvious choice for her. Girl finally gets it that he is the boy for her. Woohoo. Feel good. That's about all there is to it. Is it worth $5? Yeah, I guess so. I will probably watch it again one day, just not any time soon.

2009-01-05T16:09:00.002-05:00

You should be forewarned: I have a soft spot for a teeny bop. Teeny bop qualifies as a movie that has little to no adults in it and the teens do whatever, whenever. The genre's bar was raised as a result of my favorite teens, Dawson Creek. This was good because it meant you had to know a thing or two in order to watch it. It became a requirement to be educated otherwise there was no following the dialogue. 10 Things I Hate About You, meets this bar and raises it again.

This movie is a wonderful rendition of Shakespear's Taming of the Shrew. With the cast loaded in star power, Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles take top bill as the lead of Patrick Verona and Kat Stratford. The set is at Padua High so as to include cliques, teenage insecurities and of course, gym class. In keeping with the tradition of the teeny's films, there is lots of rock music to an almost music video style. However, constant references and puns for Shakespear give the cast high humor to play along with mixing in some of the slap stick of youth. This twist of being teens thrown into the world of the dear William turns out for a delightful, well thought out romantic comedy.

This movie falls in my rentable and buy at the $9 or less range. This is a very watchable, funny, interesting, well played, well written movie. It won an MTV award for best breakthrough performance by an actress (Julia Stiles). It is very teeny bop. It is an excellent film to show in highschool on those days when there is nothing left to do for seniors other than sign yearbooks. It is also a good date movie for those who are renting dvds and popping popcorn at home.

ps this is the first time I have ever written a review and am not sure what I am doing yet. So maybe it will get better with more practice.

2009-01-04T22:09:00.004-05:00

I went to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, this weekend with my husband. The reasons I like movies is because they make me think, evoke emotion, or are sometimes just plain art worthy of taking note. The question that was raised from Benjamin Button was not about birth or death, time or age, but right at the end, he talks about because some people are mothers, swimmers, lovers, daughters...etc,etc. It made me think what am I? I like to try to be a musician on my good days. It is something that my Mom & Dad have instilled in me, but it is more them than me. I like to be a Daughter of the King, except when I go crazy, it vanishes. I like to be scrap-booker, but I recognize that I am only a novice who likes crafts, much like every other ten year old in America. I think I have finally figured out what I do, what I am. I watch movies.

I am a movie watcher. I watch them on dvd, whether owned, rented or netflixed. I watch them on the big screen. I categorize them in an odd fashion of, rentable, buyable, see when in the theatre, see is in the theatre the day it comes out and of course there is any combination of these levels. The super-duper-omg-zowee is when I have to see it the day it comes out, rent it until it until you can buy it, buy it for $22 when it comes out and get the soundtrack for gosh sakes! There are not many of those.

This is something too that my Mom & Dad have given me, that has ended up being more mine than theirs. I have 152 dvds currently. I watch a movie almost everyday. Some people do facebook, others alcohol, others are swimmers, lovers and mothers, I am really, really a movie watcher. I thought about having everything tallied to impress you at the number of Golden Globes and Oscars I have, but that is a bigger task and will be issued at a later date. So far I have 32 Oscars and 18 Golden Globes and that is not even to the first 50 movies. I like a good movie.

For a long time I have been teased by friends about my movie watching. They are always trying to catch a flick I haven't seen. It is pretty hard.

I even have movie friends, such as Debbie. We ditch the boys and go see movies all the time together.

The thing that I don't watch a lot of is comedy. Not romantic comedy (duh, I am a girl) but that awful new form of comedy that assumes we must be stupid, sarcastic and down right horrifically appealing to the masses. Unfortunately, I do have stepsons who buy my husband that stuph, so we actually own a copy of the 40-Year Old Virgin, which is not in my count of 152 movies.

All this being said, every blog has a theme, my theme will be movies because it is what I do more than anything else outside of God. I have alphabetized my movies. I will watch them starting at the beginning with 10 Things I Hate About You and go through Yoga. I will review, give each movie a rating, talk about their Oscars or lack their of, will talk about the reason I like it or don't. This will give some focus to this blog. Although I will say on occasion I will still set out on the emotion isms that just need to be blogged about so watch out for that every once in a while. And with that, I am going to watch a movie!

2009-01-01T12:29:00.002-05:00

Resolutions:

To be more watchful for selfishness, dishonesty, resentment and fear.
To grow in my prayer and meditation.
To be helpful where no one else can.

GROW UP...some more.

2008-12-27T15:40:00.006-05:00

My life has run away and left me behind with nothing to show for it but some grades, a few cd's and lack of sanity. Today is the first day that I have nothing to do except pray, breath in, breath out, pray and go back to bed. I am so behind in so many areas of my life it is hard to decipher what to do, if anything at all. I can hear someone in the back of my head saying, "Start what you need to start, work on what you need to work on, and finish what needs to be finished. This is divine order." So here I am starting my blog in hopes that one thing can be started. If nothing else. I have a few pics from the break:

This is in honor of the talented Mrs. Ripley:

http://craftycafe.wordpress.com/

She is the wife of a dear friend of mine from highschool who is more talented in crafts than anyone I have ever seen. I enjoy reading her blog on a regular basis and during a bit of brain fried-ness during finals, these two butterflies came out. They are made from cardstock, glitter pens and glue sticks. They are pinned on my wall of my craft room. Thanks for the inspiration Jess. My mind is less mush because of you.

Also, we had fun here on the farm working up a Christmas tree:

Before

After!

We had fun picking one out and putting up the decor. We bought our tree from Nacoochee Valley Farms this year which is a farm of Historic Hwy 17. They sell all kinds of things there like eggs, milk, fresh veggies and as it turns out Christmas Trees. It went to support the farmer's church ministry. Can't resist a good charitable reason to buy a tree. And so be it. Unfortunately, the top was too flimsey for our angel. She kept falling over, so we left her on top of the Clock where she sits year round.

Our Christmas was spent in a half and half mode: half at Mom's & half at BJ's. Unfortunately BJ was ill the whole time we were in WV, so Christmas was a bit yucky this year. There were lots of good presents this year. Some highlights were the cds: Claude Debussy, Cold Play and CCR. Can you say what?! Yeah, I got three different cd's all starting with C, all from three different eras of the 20th century...although Coldplay is the 21rst century, same difference.

Now we are home and I am a disaster zone inside. All the traveling, family, presents, lack of spirituality, holding on to my sanity with both hands and white knuckles. It is a lot. Today is about getting Rae back on track. Hopefully. I don't want to do too much for fear it will put me over the edge of doing. I feel like one of those snow globes that was shaken up and set down to look at: all the snow is everywhere, but the picture in the center is so pretty. Such a contrast. I am glad that I have a week before I go back to school. It will be a week of divinity.

2008-12-07T00:08:00.000-05:00

Trying to get to the end of finals, will return after this breif intermission....

2008-11-17T22:31:00.003-05:00

Matthew 25:14-30
The Talents: what will you do with the talent God has given you?

Sunday was a tough hand dealt to the priest. He was given Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18; Psalm 90:1-8; 1 Thessalonias 5:1-11 and Matthew 25: 14-30. All of them are not comfortable passages. And we are Episcopalians so uncomfortability is not where we like to be. We like to be liked. We like happy dealings in the Bible. So his cards read: Be silent before the LORD your GOD (GAWD), which is totally a shoutin methodist's card; We are afraid of your WRATHful indignation, way too baptist; Let us be sober and put on the breastplate of faith and love...doesn't really go with Whiskapalians; all that's left are the talents. It is such a strange passage that I have never really understood before and have even done it in the theatre and not really gotten it. Why would the master punish the slave for keeping his talent? I mean he was not supposed to lose it right?

Father Don put a spin on Matthew that changed my perception. The slave makes a statement: "so I was afraid." Powerful. Fear is so powerful. When God's angel comes to Mary, the first statement is "do not be afraid." Removing the fear clarified the message of the angel to Mary. Back to the servant with the talent, he is afraid. He interprets his master as harsh. No where else in the passage is the master described. His actions with the other two servants show generocity and gratitude, but this one fearful man finds his master as harsh. My priest points out that fear warps our perceptions. When our perception are affected by this fear, our actions become dangerous. We become dangerous to ourselves and to others. And when we act dangerously we begin to believe that we are worthless. Father Don points out that We are not worthless. When we are baptized, we are marked as Christ's own forever and are forever worthy. Doubt is not the opposite of faith, it is faith not yet. Fear is the flipside of Faith.

This is something that I struggle with on a daily basis is my perception. Generally speaking when I see a situation, my initial perception is through the glass bottom of a bottle. Have you ever looked out of the bottom of a bottle? It is a little weird. Not quite right. My perception is never initially quite right. I have to double think when I think. By that I mean that I have an initial thought and then I have to think the right thought: i.e. situation: dog dies, my thought, hmmm....good reason to have a bourbon, right thought: not so much, a drink won't help anything. That is an extreme example. These days it is more like this: my girlfriend dumped me, first thought: evil woman, right thought: gotta pray for her. My perception can harm myself and/or others. I don't know that everyone has to think twice, but I know I do. When I think twice, my talent multiplies and my Master is happy. If I stay in faith it carries me through my warped perception to the other side where fear is removed, faith is ever present and I am always worthy of His love.

2008-11-08T14:29:00.002-05:00

Fall has come. It is surrounding my house morning, noon and night. There are heavy dews, falling leaves and winds that make me wonder if this old house I live in will blow over like a pile of sticks. I can't go outside without a sweatshirt and a long pair of pants. My hair is starting to get that winter static that comes with cotton sweaters over my head that there is no way to completely get rid of it until the t-shirts return. My husband who prefers no shirt and no shoes for as long as he can, has given into his jeans, berks and fleece pullovers. The mountains are painted in rustics of reds, yellows, oranges. I left my windows down the other day at sweetwater only to find my seats covered in a patch of leaves. Coffee warms my toes. The feilds are full of lettuce, kale, pumpkins and squashes and sweet peppers. The empty cornstalks are being cleared and fresh dirt is being tilled to prepare for next season. The sun leaves early and night falls just when I feel like it is time for a run. The cows and dogs nestle into the earth as the sun sets to soak in her warmth. The down comforter is out and covers my bed every night. Fall has come.

2008-11-06T12:24:00.003-05:00

There is something so uplifting when someone tells you they want to spend time with you.

I have been on cloud nine today because a girl that is a part of a group of girls who I eat lunch with was so excited to see me today. She was so excited that on Monday, for the Fit Camp *exercise class* that I got to, she and four other chicas would be there with me: there would be a total of 6 of us. Us? She put me in the Us category. Who would guess that I would be a part of Us?

Then in the mail, I recieved a letter from the Vice President of Academic Affairs at the college stating that I had been nominated by a faculty member to be in "Who's Who" of the college. ME? Are you sure you don't mean Carter? I mean me? I am not really a Who, I am more of a Grinch on any given day....

Then there is there is that feeling that comes with being included, with being nominated for anything. It makes me happy. It makes me want to be the person that they seem to think I am even more than I already am. It makes me want to be confident, but not overbearing. It makes me want to make good grades. It makes me want to answer questions in class. It makes me want to be the first done with the quiz in class today and know when I am done that I maybe missed something on it, but not enough to matter (I missed 1/2 a point, btw). It makes me want to build a study group for finals. It makes me want to go to the gym or run. It make me want to be Me.

Do you know how long it has been since I have even remotely wanted to be Me? I have wanted to be many people, but never myself. It wasn't so long ago that I started to like parts of me. I like that I blog, scrapbook, play scramble with my Mom & Dad, paint my toes when I want to and I strive daily to be the person God wants me to be. But there are still those things...those things that mmmm...are not so pretty or good or right yet. For some reason, someone saying they want to hang out with me and not just part of me, but all of me, makes me want to be Me even more.

2008-11-01T22:25:00.002-05:00

Happy All Saints Day

I would love to say I want to be a Saint, but every Saint I have heard of has gone through something rather painful in order to be qualified as a Saint, and I am suddenly not so interested.

A girlfriend of mine blogged on her faith. I have been mulling over some of mine for about a week now. I was taught as a young person to know what is real and what is fake. Gandalf is fake. Christ is real. Hobbits live in Hobbiton, which is nowhere I can find on planet earth, thus fake. Jerusalem is over there, near a sea in Israel which as I understand it has a great military and fights hard for its boundaries, thusly true. Halloween, is fun, but not real. Christmas is about the birth of Christ, and we celebrate by giving gifts. Not sure about Santa...but he is in the spirit of giving and love for others so what the heck a little false (as long as I know it is false) never hurt anyone.

In the past several years, I have been given great opportunity to repent from my sins, have great faith in God and tell others about Christ. I hang out with a lot of people who have little to no faith in anything. These folks start out with "higher powers" that include, but are not limited to door knobs; pet dragons that sit on their shoulders and are made by beanie babies; a not sure, but know it's not human, HP; Mother Earth; Father Time; Buddha; Christ; Mohamed and yes, even the devil himself. Strangely, the devil worshipper got drunk and killed by the police...mmm, think that is a clue. Don't trust devil?

I chose someone to guide me in my relationship with Christ as it was obvious she had a relationship with Christ. It never occurred to me that GOD would mean good orderly direction or any other nonsense, God was God is God, right?

Lately, that guide dumped me because she needed to take care of herself and pursue her own dreams and blah, blah, blah...

Ever since, I have been trying to make sense of what is real and what is false under her guidance. I have decided that words like "Power" and "Energy" are fake. I have looked everywhere to find out what "own your own Power" means. The reason I can only find it in one place is because the author is making things up to sell books. FAKE!!!!

Also, "you're sending out bad energy" has got to be something left over from the 60's. I can't find that anywhere. Maybe it is in the same location as my aura. In other words: FAKE.

Both of these are old mentor sayings. I am going to stick to other sayings that have basis, like One Day at a Time, from Matthew. Or "Faith without Works is dead" from James. They seem to be real to me and it has been suggested not to throw out everything she taught me. So not everything goes, but somethings, trash....

My parents taught me a long time ago that Halloween was silly fun. Energy and Power are now officially silly but not all that fun.

2008-10-25T10:44:00.002-05:00

Oatmeal Cookies

There is a new fad theory going around that I first saw in Matrix: God is a black woman baking cookies. Now that has shown up in a book that is "all the rage." Now, I don't know that God has color, humanity or knows how to bake, but I do know that cookies make life better.

I have had lots of painful changes in relationships lately. My feelings have blown my hair back and my eyes are tired of cryin. I really needed some time to feel good. Something that had nothing to do with going to school or church. I needed something good with someone I loved.

Last night, my husband and I spent time with each other and no one else. We are slowly creeping up on our second anniversary and there seems to be a soft spot forming in both of our hearts. Last night we thought about driving to another city that had a nice restaurant, spend $60 on a dinner and drive back. Instead, we got all dressed up, went to IGA and bought steaks. My husband makes a mean rib-eye and was willing to make the steaks, which is good seeing as my ability to cook steaks is limited. We were having such a good time. As he was cooking the steaks, I started making cookies: oatmeal raisin cookies.

I have never made oatmeal raisin cookies before and I don't know that you can buy a mix for them. They are kind of from scratch kinda cookies. As I got everything mixed, it was time to eat. We ate dinner and went back to the cookies. John had so much fun reading his psych book while waiting on the end product. I was on the phone with a pigeon. It was so good. Baking cookies, spending time with John, helping someone else. It felt like, it was good. It felt like home.

What a great thing cookies are. What a great memory was created by baking them. What a wonderful taste to have as you put them in your mouth hot, fresh from the oven. I know why people want God to bake cookies, it is because it feels so good.

2008-10-23T15:56:00.003-05:00

Relationships change. The world changes. The only thing constant is change.

Bleh.

I have the spins from so much change. If you've ever had the spins, then you know what I mean. It is a place where you are so sick that you really need to throw up, but you can't throw up. It is when you have drank so much you can't stand up and want to pass out, but when you lay on the bed, the spins set in and you have to stand up. So there is only one thing to do...force yourself to throw up or take one more shot to pass out.

Since I am not drunk. The spins are not real. It is just how I feel if I sit still for a moment instead of doing something like cooking or cleaning or going to school or sleeping. My emotions are totally whacked out. I had a very important relationship "change" this weekend. Mostly I think that is horse shit. I think I got dumped. It's like being "laid off" instead of being fired: either way you are out of a job. I got dumped by my mentor. She has been in my life prominently for the last eight years. She is the one who taught me how to be sober and how to be a God seeker. She has taught me how to pay bills, clean my house, go to work, be a wife. And now she wants to "change" our relationship. She wants to "just be friends." Just be friends? Is that not the line when people break up with each other? It's like "I need my space." WHAT is that? Horseshit, it is what it is: horseshit.

Spins...I've got the spins.

I am hurt and confused, fearful and angry. I am happy because I have found a new mentor who is awesome. I am down right excited and can't not stop thinking how cool my life is going to be with her guidance. I am ready to cry in an instant given good enough opportunity. Yet, if I cry anymore than I already have, I may not have any tears left for whatever comes next!

What's worse, is I can't help wondering if what my former mentor taught me is totally worthless? Maybe it means nothing? Maybe it wasn't really her teaching me, and what was hers that she taught was just the same as she left me: horseshit? My head says no, what she taught me is valid and worthy; my life is exponentially better because of her God given words. But my heart tells me she is full of it.

I have the spins and what does my husband tell me? Put your foot down. You stop spinning.

Ugh. I wish.

2008-10-19T10:47:00.001-05:00

My farm dog has gotten a dead calf...

yes, that is a part of a calf's skull...

ah, life on the farm!

2008-10-18T10:49:00.002-05:00

There is nothing like helping someone else to get out of myself. I am in the middle of an accounting test right now. I had the first half in class and the second half is take home. I finished a paper last night and turned it in at 11 pm via email. Only thing is that my prof is supposed to get one email from the group (it was a paper for a group). She got two. Turns out the crazy in my group got a little crazy and sent an email too. So, I ended up staying awake until 1 pm knowing that it was done wrong. Wondering what my prof was going to think about two emails or which one she would grade. This is the end of my week. The begining started with a test in Fraud. So...needless to say, I have been in my head lately.

Today, I got to do flowers for the church. It was great. I also got to talk to someone about learning to take care of themselves. It is not easy being so open and honest with another person. Not to mention when the talkin is about the hard stuph. I have never had someone come to me before who was so willing to change. She is trying to do what anyone and everyone is telling her to live a better life. Here is she is asking me for specifics on the better life. Me? Giving advice on how to live a better life. Amazing.

As we began to talk about prayer and meditation, service and unity, seeking God...the flower arrangements came to life. Once the arrangements were done, so was our conversation. Strangely as we parted ways, I realized not once had I pondered my academics or other people's behavior or just outright nonsense. Me helping her helped God to help me. Now I am back in a place where grades don't really matter, other people's behavior is none of my business and I am hanging out with my friends at Gertie Mae's just being me. I am in my favorite hat, with my favorite friend in my favorite place. Only thing for icing on the cake is a little bit of Sweetwater on my way home.

Nothing like working with others.

2008-10-10T23:53:00.002-05:00

I like her because she smiles at me and always says hello.

I am not someone who is...fuzzy. There are those people who no matter where they are and who they are with, everybody likes them and are very attractive people. They smile a lot. They don't cast opinions. They have a host of friends, some true, some distant. But everyone likes them. I am not one of those people.

Generally, I am intimidating. I know of people who are honestly afraid of me. I am overbearing. I am SOSOSOO opinionated. I am egotistic with some support to be. I really believe that if you so choose to piss me off, I will eat you. Eat you whole.

Women find this harsh and usually after dealing with me, eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's icecream to make the pain go away. Men, just stay away, because I am married. I really only have two male friends, one of which is a political rival and the other a spiritual giant. Then there is my best male friend and I married him so I guess he is more eerrrrr than me.

I do have some good traits, but you have to get through the mess to get to the good stuph and getting there can be more painful for you than you are willing to experience. NOW. This being said...confessed.

A flip side to my abrasiveness is that I am without a doubt social. I go to the parties. I go to the dinners. I am the one with the address list for any event. Flutterbug, that's me. The way that I stay out of trouble is by not staying social too long with one group of people. Only the few, far and inbetween get real time (ie Megan, Sherry, Debbie, just to name a few).

I don't know how this cocktail of a person (that would be me) was concocted, but my guess is Irony, was the key ingrediant.

What I am trying to say is that vulnerability is not my strong suit.

Lately, I got very vunerable with a new woman in my life. With that vunerability came expectations. Expectations, in case you don't know, are premeditated resentments. And my resentment has lasted for months....yes, months. I expect for someone to know that when I am being vunerable with them, they are to honor, treasure, care about that. And in return, they are to be my friend. I have never really tried it that way before, but my understanding is that this is the way it is done. (As opposed to the swimming through the painful mess to get to me.)

I am still hurt today. At least once a day, I feel the hurt. It is a screwed up sense of rejection. I am hurt because a friendship has not been returned despite my honesty and openess. What's worse was that in the process of trying to learn about this new woman she managed to smack me emotionally and verbally as well. I am totally open to continuing the relationship after we worked that out, but she is just...she left. And she doesn't smile at me or say hello any more. I have tons of women in my life who fill my life with love, joy, sadness, smiles, laughter...friendship. And I am hurt, still because she left.

I have huge fears too of her using my vunerability against me. My head tells me it would have been easier to be mean to her. My hurt is not so great today as it was before I confessed my sins before God and another human being, but about once a day...when I am not looking...a sucker punch of anger, fear and old fashioned little girl hurt feelings. Now it only lasts a few minutes as opposed to hours. I am sure that if I continue to pray to God for her Health, Happiness and Prosperity and to relieve my fear, that it will go away completely except the times someone brings it up. And one day, it will be something I can use to help someone else through the same thing. I mean if the experience isn't so that I can help someone else, what's the point, right?

I just wish...she hadn't treated me like a friend for the moments that we tried to be friends, if she was going to go away. It is a painful thing. Worse than with someone physically leaving, because I see her every once in a while. At least if she physically left, I wouldn't have to see her anymore. That would be nice. It would speed this process up. Maybe I should have given this entry the header: Please excuse our mess, growth in process.

2008-10-07T14:22:00.008-05:00

Today's Lesson in Cooking: Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookies From Crisco, per Vicki D.

Needed ingredients:

3/4 cup (3/4 stick) Crisco Shortening
1 1/4 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
2 Tbs milk
1 Tbs vanilla

1 egg
1 3/4 cups flour
1 tsp salt
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup coarsely chopped pecans (optional)*

Heat oven to 375. Place sheets of foil on counter top for cooling cookies.

Combine Crisco, brown sugar, milk and vanilla in large bowl. Beat at med speed of electric mixer until well blended. Beat egg into creamed mixture. Combine flour, salt and baking soda. Mix into creamed mix just until blended. Stir in chocolate chips and pecans.

Drop rounded tbs of dough 3'' apart onto un-greased baking sheet. Bake on baking sheet at 375 for 8-10 min for chewy cookies, 11-13 for crisp. DO NOT OVER BAKE. Cool 2 min on baking sheet, remove cookies to foil to cool completely. Makes 3 dzn.

This smells unbelievable in case your curious.

In the city, where I was raised, if you wanted cookies, you bought cookies. If you just HAD to bake cookies, you bought a package of pre-made cookie dough, prepped the oven and dropped them on a pan. Poof, cookies. The excess was stored in the fridge for those midnight sneaked spoonfuls in response to a break-up with a boyfriend. There has never been any such thing as "homemade" cookies for me.

Now, I live in the country:
Since moving here, I have been told that there is life without Crisco. Where ever it says Crisco, you can use butter, I've been told. Now I was raised on Crisco in cases of baking. Not butter. Somehow, in my mixed up head, I have associated Crisco with city: butter with country. Well, I live in the country now, any questions ask the cows outside of my window.

So for this "needs improvement" episode, I didn't quite follow the directions: I used butter because I'm in the country. Yes, that really is my reasoning.

I also decided after several scrapings of pans, to lightly grease the cookie sheet. AND I used dark brown sugar, because that is what I had.

It felt good. I used a wooden spoon and sprinkled the flour in little by little. I mixed and could feeeeeelllll the Luvvvv. That's my favorite part of homemade.

I dropped the cookie dough on the pan at 375 for 8-10 minutes only to pull out.....not cookies. The dough is cooked, but they looked like splats of cookies instead of cookies. Splats are wide messes that look a bit like pancakes, but with that cookie-esk-ness. I scoop the mess off the sheet into a bowl. (Which by the way, scooped onto a plate, about the size a cookie might be, with a small scoop of ice cream is great!)

Hmmm...must be the non-Crisco. So I add the Crisco to the rest of the batch. The batch changes color to something I recognize as the cookie dough from the cans! Woohoo. I'm in business. I drop the cookie dough on the pan at 375 for 8-10 minutes....

Splat. AHA!! I still have he grease on the pan, it must be making the dough run all over the place. So I clean the pan thoroughly, drop the dough and go. 8-10 minutes later.....

Splat.

I don't know what Crisco's got that butter doesn't, but I'm guessing it is a special ingrediant called: anti-splatter batter.

2008-10-03T16:47:00.002-05:00

Cooking with Rachel K

On today's menu, we have Vicki D's Brunswick Stew. Below are the ingrediants you will need to make the ultimate stew.

1 can cream corn
1 can whole corn
2 cans stewed tomatoes (original recipe)
1 small bottle of ketchup
1 large white meat chunk chicken
2 cans Castelberry's BBQ pork in BBQ sauce
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 lb. ground beef
1 onion

Brown gr bf in skillet w/onion chopped. Combine everything in large pot. Cook on low/med for a few hours until bubbly.

In my world, I have always recieved an "N" from my elementary school teachers in "follows instructions." "N" is for needs improvement. SO with that thought in mind, we enter my kitchen.

Upon shopping for the goods yesterday, I could not find Castleberry's BBQ Pork so instead I bought...something else. I realized that maybe it did not have BBQ sauce in the pulled pork, so I bought some Sweet Baby Ray's bbq sauce ( the best bbq sauce in the universe). Today, I browned the beef and onion, but realized that I was probably supposed to drain it prior to dumping it in the pot. Oh, also I don't have a pot that big except the crock pot so...it's in the crock pot. I don' know if this is right either, but oh well. I also bought a can of tomato sauce instead of ketchup. I also forgot to get the chicken. I realized this when I was dumping the ingrediants in the pot. I turned the pot on Low. Finally, I added a hour on the fb in combo of a telephone call to my cousin Jenny. I think this is an especially important part because it is the luv in my culinary art.

So today in the kitchen of Rachel K we have Brunswick Stew per Vicki D...sortof.

2008-10-01T14:30:00.002-05:00

The Culprit

A European Hornet, aka a "Japanese Hornet"

My normal unstung hand.

My not so normal, fevered hand

48 Hours after being stung in the ring finger

+ two Benedrils doses

+four Zertec doses

+ one Steroid Shot

In case you are curious, this is my hand looking better than it did originally.

2008-09-25T22:02:00.007-05:00

Sometimes reality is more interesting that happily ever after.

I need to say first that I love Bernadette Peters. She is a tremendous actress.

How is it that people get in there head that life is supposed to be ever after? Do their parents just not tell them that ever after only makes for good movies when you are a kid? Do they not know that the life is worth more than ever after?

One of the reasons that I love Into the Woods, is the second act. How funny is it that once Cinderella, finds her fella, only to find out that he is dull, without wit, lives in a big lonely castle with nothing to do except chase princesses? Hurray, she got the guy with the house and the sisters are permanently punished, but really, what is that worth? Why is that happily ever after?

I don't know that I have ever had ever after. Maybe there was some of that before I was pubic, but I don't really remember much of it so who knows. I remember the creamery on the dairy farm with the real homemade ice cream. That is about it. Then I was 13. It was all over but the crying. Especially for the folks.

My friend who is very...not good right now, has a perception that I did it. I got the ever after. I found God, again. (Turns out he wasn't lost and so not so hard to find.) I don't drink, smoke or meddle in others affairs. I learned how to pay my bills. I learned how to get a good job. I learned how to take care of me. Now, I married a great man. I am in school for a great job. From the outside looking in: everafter.

She got her heartbroken by a scumbag of a boyfriend, so she thinks I have everything. The reality is that I work very, very hard. The reality is that it takes lots of effort on my part not to lose it on a daily basis. When I am juggling all the balls of life in the air, inevitably, I drop one. I have to search around and pick it up. I have to work to realign with God's will and in the meanwhile, continue juggling with one hand. She thinks ever after is Cinderella, dressed in yella. She thinks I am Cinderella.

I am not.

Neither is she.

We are not supposed to be. Cinderella is a story. A childhood tale with no purpose. I don't think Cinderella ever worked for what she got. I have busted my butt for what I have. I had to learn how to pray and juggle.

I like juggling. Praying is easier than juggling, so sometimes I take it for granted. I hope my friend hasn't given up praying, because I think Meredith Grey is right: reality is better than everafter. There are joys and sadness and intimacies with God. I get to love and hurt and learn to forgive. Gosh that is a hard one. I am working on that right now: forgiving. Gosh that is hard. It is not everafter.

I can't imagine doing the things I do with out a daily walk with Christ.

Maybe she just thinks she is alone. No one is alone. Even when I think I am alone, and making terrible mistakes...We are not alone, no one is alone. Maybe I need to let her know that she is not alone. Let her know that it is going to be okay. She is going through this terrible heartache so that she can help someone else to know that they are not alone: give her an opportunity to pass it on.

God's reality is not everafter, it is so much better.

2008-09-22T18:34:00.002-05:00

When you don't blog for a while, you have bits and pieces of blogs left in your head:

Money is tight, yet, I am not afraid...relieved on economic insecurities. Being broke just ain't so scary anymore.

Flowers make the world go round. There is something to a blue hydrangeas, pink roses and random garden flowers. There is something to making something pretty for someone else. It fills you up and then lets you go...

Sleepy Sundays are awesome. But studying is important until you start sneezing...and sneezing...and achoo...this is Carter's fault.

I love that my car gets 37 miles to the gallon right now. I also love drivin around in it with my husband.

Ever have someone look you in the eye and say, "I want what you have, can ya tell me how to get it?" It will almost take your breath out of you. What's even weirder is how much alike you are after a few conversations. Matched up for God.

I am not really sick, I just think I am. Snort. Sniff. Sneeze.

Student loans are stupid. Don't they know that we have never borrowed money succesfully? Why do they make it so...my nose is running, hang on...painful? I mean, if you need one form of id why do you wait to process to ask for two forms? What takes so long to recieve and file a fax under my name? Why not be up front about everything that is needed and why would it last forever? and ever? and ...

I am eating chicken noodle soup for the first time in my life. I have never eaten chicken noodle soup. I am not a real soup fan, but a friend suggested it. Said it was kind of like having gingerale when you are sick...just tastes different. So I am eating chicken noodle soup. I am so sick, this is all Carter's sickness. He gave it to me through twitter.

2008-09-13T21:55:00.002-05:00

"But life is among [us] is more than attending [church] and visiting the sick...No one is too discredited or has sunk too low to be welcomed...Social distinctions, petty rivalries and jealousies--these are laughed out of countenance. Being wrecked in the same vessel, being restored and united under one God, with hearts and minds attuned to the welfare of others, the things which matter so much to some people no longer signify much to them. How could they?"

Stacy: this keeps coming up for me! Just like our conversation: we are not to be of this world, but to be separate from the world.

I have hung out with a girlfriend today who just three short years ago would have nothing to do with me. It has taken a long, treacherous path for us to be friends. Somehow it just worked better that way. Sometimes being in the Spirit means just that: treacherous. Today, I know that I don't live in this world. I participate in it. I do what is asked of me, but only so that it may serve God. Things like who is and who is not my friend, whether what I am wearing is name brand, or how much better (or worse) I can be than you, means nothing.

I went to see a friend today. She is dieing. She has lung cancer and sirosis of the liver. When she found out they gave her a week to live. Thankfully, God is bigger than doctors. She actually drove herself to my birthday party. What a birthday present! She out-did anything that anyone gave me. She gave of herself. Today, they brought in hospice. She is much closer now than she was before now. I went to see her because that is what I can give of myself back to her. She was pretty out of it. One of the things she asked for was her pastor, who has been reading scripture to her. It is about the Spirit, not the body. She showed that to me today.

I mess up a lot. I am without a doubt not perfect. I am beginning to recognize, that is part of being in the will of God. In order for me to participate in this walk with Him, I have to be different from Him. It is what makes Him divine and me, human with desires of closeness to Divinity. But just because I am different from Him, does not mean that I have to be opposite of Him. I have a likeness of Him. I don't know why I wanted to be opposite of Him for so long. I am so grateful to recognize my Likeness. It is kind of like being okay with the fact that I am going to grow up and be like my parents. Turns out they are not so bad after all. No one could have told me that. I just had to experience it, just like I had to experience the grace of God to be okay with that too.

Atonement is so fulfilling.

2008-09-12T21:39:00.000-05:00

The term is SOCCER mom not hockey mom.

2008-09-11T18:43:00.004-05:00

"true ambition is the deep desire to live usefully and walk humbly under the grace of God"

living usefully....walking humbly...kneel before the breath of God...

I pray every morning and every night. I read a meditation with my bowl of cheerios. I go to church on Sundays. I wear my DOK cross to let other people know that Christ is my Lord and Savior and this is how Christians act. But to know if I am living usefully? walking humbly? grace? How do I know about grace?

What I do have, is a desire to live that way. Last year I wrote a piece for extra credit that said that I want to be an accountant as a direct result of my walk with God. I really believe that I can be of use to God counting beans! Who would ever think such a bland profession would allow me to be of service. But now that I think about it, Matthew was a tax collector.

That makes me think about the word disciple which is so close to discipline. Shoo...discipline means so much: it means a study, means a correction of behavior, punishment (ooo, yeah, don't like that one), obedience (yep, not so fond of that either, instant rebellion at the spelling of the word).

Usefulness through discipline, now that's something I can do. I can pray everyday. I can study my bible. I can help others. I can go to school and make good grades. I can love my husband. I can honor and cherish him until death do us part. I can be a good sister. I can be a good daughter. I can be a good granddaughter. I can be a good friend.

I have run across a lot of people lately who I'd like to emulate in their faith. I hope others can see in me what I see in these people. They stand out to me. They are not anyone person and their friends. They are random Christians who have shown up lately, like my old friend from Smoke Rise, my cousins, a constant blogger buddy and former big sister from Agnes Scott, a random stranger at school who let me eat lunch at her table in the lobby and one of my wonder women who I graduated with, who I'd never peg, totally fulfilled in her walk with Christ. The way they show themselves shows their humility, their usefullness, their joy.

I have been given the Grace of God. There is no question about that. I honestly believe I got more than one dose of it. I just hope that I can be of service with this gift.

Yo tengo ganas. (that's for kelley)

I have the desire.

2008-09-06T10:55:00.006-05:00

I was assaulted on Marta last night on the way home from the Braves game. That's all I can think about since it happened. I had a great time tagging up with my brother and having dinner at my favorite restaurant. I got to watch my Mom's choir sing at Turner Stadium, what a privilege. I got to go to a Braves game with my Dad and not have a single argument or even a cross word. I got to see the Braves win a game. I am pretty sure I have never seen the Braves win a game. I got home in no time as a result of public transit and a jump up 400 with no one on it. I used my brights on 400 because there was no one on it. Yet, my strongest memory is a notion of violence that occurred when the game was over and getting onto Marta.

There were lots of people trying to get home from the game. We were squished into a bus like sardines. It was not a long ride though, and the people were nice enough. Then as we entered the train station, the security guards put pressure for everyone to get on the train. Unfortunately, there were people that needed to get off the train first. The doors open and close so quickly, if you are not paying attention you can miss your stop. The crowd rushed the Marta train car. Those inside came out with attitude and violence. They pushed and hurt those crowding the door. It was more than one man who slammed into several women. The look on their face was of uncontrolled wrath. I felt really bad for those women who were knocked around.

As I got onto the train, the violent act rippled.

One of the women who had gotten hurt was yelling at the top of her lungs, "I am so sorry that I am white and trying to use Marta. The very idea that a white American would use Marta is too much. I am so sorry, I am white."

She was sitting with a young man who was totally embarrassed by her behavior. She was throwing in the f-word every other word in the sentence. There were so many people in the train car, including a three year old across the aisle from her which she couldn't see due to people standing in her line of site and a young black man sitting in spitting distance of her just not saying a word. This woman was obese, had pink and black hair, piercings and tattoos. She wore her anger toward the world like an insulation blanket. And was screaming over and over, "I know you want me to f-ing shut up, but I am just f-ing apologizing for being f-ing white, okay? I f-ing apologize."

At one point she was shaking (white) people's hands apologizing to the ones she could reach.

She was assaulting my ears. The violence rippled.

I became thoroughly aggravated by this woman. At one point made a rude comment to my brother who just looked at me. So now the actions of one violent person (shoving) led to another action (violent language, loudly) to me passing it to my brother (rude comment). Violence, begats violence, begats more violence.

On my way home, I thought of something that might have stopped that woman in her tracks. Although, I don't know that I could say it with enough sincerity at the time, for her not to throttle me for misinterpretation of sarcasm. If I could say it with all due sincerity and humility, I would say:

There is enough love in this area of the train car for me to tell you, that we are sorry you feel hurt by the men who violated you. We know what it is like to be hurt. We know what it is like to experience violence and racism. It is a powerful abuse to another human being. We are here today to let you know that we hear your pain, we acknowledge you pain and that we are going to love you back to a place of a healed wound. We will love you until you can love yourself. Believe me when I say, you never have to apologize for who you are. You are a beautiful, I know you won't believe it, but you are a beautiful child of God and are worthy of His love. Those of us standing around you see, feel, hear your hurt and are going to extend our love to you.

God, please cradle this woman in your arms that she may find your love and can find it within herself to love herself.

The ripples of violence stop with me. The ripples of violence stop through love.

Have you told someone you love them today?

2008-09-04T14:49:00.007-05:00

There is something strange about watching someone else grow. I know many of my friends have the opportunity to watch their children try new things and "oh how cute" stuph that happens. It is different when it happens to an adult. It is not "oh so cute." Mostly, it is really messy and a bit frightening because of the expectations surrounding being an adult. Folks expect someone who is an adult to act like an adult, as though there is an instruction manual on how to handle all situation life throws at you. Children can throw their peas on the floor and get away with it. I wish I could throw peas on the floor and get away with it. I bet even Mikey won't eat peas.

I am very careful to say, "when I grow up," for people to understand that I should never, under any circumstances be taken seriously. I have a friend who keeps a teddy bear on his desk at work so people will know, it is a sign: immature person at this desk, please handle with care. I might do that when I get a work desk. I have teddys on my bed just to remind my husband, and, at times, me.

I have been watching my husband over the past several days. He applied to an on-line college and within 10 days, is writing his first college essay. It has to be 1000 words and use the methods of composition which he is being taught. Can you say he is FREAKING OUT?! So messy. He gets this look in his eyes and walks from the computer to the kitchen and back again. Then he does it again. If the phone rings, he almost comes unglued. The very idea of answering trips his train of thought. So when my husband turned into the exorcist last night, I was so glad he was married to me and not somebody with rejection issues. He is so growin. It is so cool.

Going to college for me is like brushing my teeth: do it or suffer.

When I first went to college it was because Mom and Dad said go to college. It took everything they had to make me fill out the applications and then the decision: oh the decision....ASC or UGA? Ack. So glad I got that one right. When I went to college, I wasn't really interested in anything. I majored in booze, boys and bars...and GT football. Other than that, I studied because it was something to do once in a while. My Dad cried at my graduation. I don't know if it was out of pride or out of surprise. I didn't know what folks were making a fuss about. I mean, come on, I have been going to school since I was five! Like I couldn't do it? Of course I could, can't you? (*I am so arrogant sometimes*)

When I went back to college for the second degree, outside of being certifiable, I fit like one of those perfect hands and gloves. Grades are easier when there is no booze, boys or bars. Also, I have a, a ganas that wasn't there last time, that helps.

My husband, on the other hand, has never really been given a fair shake. He was raised in a house where they sent him to his room to study and he couldn't read. He has dyslexia. No one knew. Then out of no where, his Mom sent him to a graduate study on kids who don't quite get it in school. They taught him how to read, speed read, read upside down and backwards. Can you say way cool? By the time he got out of high school, he found uncle sam. There was some one in his head saying you can't, so he didn't and into the military he went, then marriage, kids and never any college.

Now he is 50. FIFTY! and going to college. Can you say, God works miracles?

For him it is not like those hands and gloves, for him it is like a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He can't figure out what he wants to see or smell or touch or eat first. I don't know what God whispered in the ear of my husband that changed that voice of "you can't" to "go for it." No matter, he is in the thick of it now.

I sit back and watch this funny man I love fall into the world of the academe, all that comes to mind is: ain't life grand?

2008-09-02T19:08:00.002-05:00

After being away at my family's house for the holiday weekend, I found that coming home meant something different.

I used to think that coming home meant ending up in my parents house after swim practice/violin lessons with my brother in his room or watching tv and I in mine or under Mama's feet. We were perhaps working on homework or playing with a toy; preparing dinner or practicing an instrument. Dad might not be home yet, or it might be his day off and he is coming in with the groceries ready to have help to put them away. Around four thirty or five o'clock maybe as late as six, the pink radio box on top of the dryer in the kitchen would sound off to NPR's All Things Considered: da, da, da, da, da, da, da-de-da.

Today home means something different. It means moths around the lamps. It means happy dogs grateful you are home because the old dog died and they don't know what to think. It means having my husband there to greet me. It means a quilt on the bed and no air conditioning. It means fresh tomatoes off a neighbor's farm and flowers to the friends down the street whose daughter finally passed from cancer. It means washing dishes by hand, listening to the katydids sing. It means remembering to turn the lights off to keep the power down and the heat away in the summer. It means wondering why yet another calf is pinned in the barn hollerin for its mama and giving a new chair to the farmer who watches his cows under the big tree that shades the back of the house and then some, while the trough fills with water. It's about no noise. It's about peace and quiet. It's about rising and falling with the sun. It's about listening to the chimes on the grandmother clock. It's about planning a trip to town. It's about friends who are family. It's about lovin and losin and livin and lovin some more.

My home today is about life on a farm.

2008-09-01T13:21:00.004-05:00

I ran the the 5k. Never done it before. Yeah...it is three miles. I finished in under 45 minutes. This is to say, less than 15 minute miles. I actually ran the first mile at 12:25, second mile at 26:54 (this is a personal best for my two miles) and finished at 43:05. Woohoo! I finished!

2008-08-25T11:46:00.002-05:00

I have been trying to learn how to cook. All this time John and I have been married, I would make a dinner here or there, but usually it was the same dinner as last time or not very different from the last time. My dinners consist of chicken and noodles with sauce. There is always a salad and a fruit dessert, but the entree is always the same. Through trudging communication with my new husband, I have Finally heard that he likes to have dinner at home, especially now that he works at a camp where dinner consists of hotdogs or peanutbutter sandwiches. Now here is the problem: you can only eat chicken, noodles and sauce so many times in a row.

My first dinner for him was chicken alfredo. Pretty good change from the red sauce to a white sauce. Different flavor. Then I went for chicken, plain noodles and cheese. Yeah, now I am bored with the chicken. So I reach into the bowels of the freezer to find a roast. I pulled out my crockpot that Aunt Melody gave me a hundred years ago that only ever gets used for Christmas wassail and put stuph in with the pot roast. Yeah, we ended up having left overs that night. The potroast as it turns out was...old. It was two years old. Please, do not try this at home. Luckily, I have a kind mother who sent me a recipe to follow for the next time around that will allow me the ability to have a tasty meat treat for my hubby sweet. Thanks Mom.

I am determined to find things that are different on a regular basis so as to add to the health and well being of our meals and our relationship. On Sunday, I made homemade applesauce. While this is not a meal in itsself unless you are 90, it wore out all my cooking muscles for dinner. So there was no exercising the dinner prospects. In the process of cooking the fresh apples from the Orchard, yes, I live in the country and there really is an apple orchard, I had to go to get two sweet apples because the Orchard apples are mostly cooking apples with not a whole lot of taste which meant another trip to the grocer. Whilst there, I was able to conjure up more ingrediants for tonight's experiment: lasagna. I haven't made this since I was drunk, however, I have a really good recipe and I am good at following directions as long as you have my attention.

We shall see how it works. I am throwing this out to the culinary artists in my life: please send me (via email) recipes of something other than chicken to feed my husband dinner. For example, what are beef tips for? How do you make a moroccan dish? How do you cook bbq ribs without a grill?

I have a 1958 cook book from BetterHomes, but as it turns out, the food in that book is REALLY from 1958. Nothankyou, but the book is cool to look at. What is your favorite dish and how do you make it in a regular everyday kitchen?

CYBER CULINARY PEOPLE: help . . .

ps the applesauce that i made is AWESome.

2008-08-22T19:33:00.003-05:00

I have always had a hard time maintaining relationships. I am great at making new friends or staying friends with someone because they go to school with me, work with me, church with me or live with me. I am horrible at the afterwards. For example, when I graduated highschool, people just disappeared out of my life. I have heard that people came back from college and on the holidays got together with old friends, but I never did that. I never had that. College, same thing. I graduated, they were gone: poof, like smoke.

The same thing was true for my relationship with God too. When I was no longer "required" to go to church, I didn't go. And just like that: poof, like smoke, God was gone from my life.

I found God again. It took getting honest, finding courage, having integrity and discipline, all and all I perservered and have an awareness of God that gives me the ability of service to God and to my fellows. It has been a long road of growth for me, but as a result, I have a relationship with God.

That Relationship has given me the ability to have relationships with my parents, my brother, my friends that stuck around long enough for me to stray and return and a few new folks along the way.

The reason I mention all of this is that I started back to school this week. Instead of the newness that comes with the freshman feel, I had a sophomore experience. I knew people already and don't have to go through the rigamarole of social dysfunction. I am hoping that, because I have a relationship with God, that maybe I can keep some of these college friends this time around...God willing!

2008-08-19T18:21:00.002-05:00

I am having a hard time keeping my spirits up about weight. I don't know why I poop out after trying something for just a little while, but I do. I decided it is because I have a good forgetter. This means that I forget how well I have done before and give up too easily. My head says, "this is really hard and I am no good at it," and poof, I quit. And poof, low self esteem! Amazing how well a forgetter works! I just up an forget the effort already invested.

What's worse is that as I quit things, the quitting compounds as does the low self esteem. It gets to a point where I finally never get started on something--and Oh Well! I am on a track to no self esteem or negative self esteem. In awareness of the repetitive downward spiral, self-destructive behavior, I finally came up with a solution.

I believe in spiritual tools. One of my spiritual tools is taking inventory. This means finding out what I do and don't have; finding out what does and doesn't work. One example is that I used to have a vicious tongue that could cut open a tin can it was so sharp. Today, while I never miss an opportunity to keep my mouth shut, I recognize that I have the ability to prophesy, that is to say the right thing at the right time with an uncanny truthfulness about the statement that perhaps the person in conversation with me was unaware of the truth. Through taking self inventory, I found out using my mouth to hurt people doesn't work. Telling the truth without hurting people does work. The inventory tells me what defect of character that needs to be thrown out. I ask God for help with the defect: many, many times, he turns it into an asset. It took years, btw, to turn that one around. God's time, not Rae's time.

Today's defect: I am trying to turn this physically unfitness around with God's help, which likewise will take years just like everything else. My part is to keep a daily inventory so I can see progress or slackness, honestly. One of the other things I struggle with along with physical unfitness is housecleaning. There is no doubt in my mind that they are indelibly linked somehow, so I am using the same tool for that one too: inventory. Normally, I use a diary or journal or something on the computer, but this time those weren't working. The funny thing about my inventory this time as opposed to other times is that I keep it (thank you Mom) as though I am a little girl.

One of the things that I remember from being a kid is a chart on the refrigerator with stars. If we did every chore or a certain amount of chores, we received $1 allowance in that week. Carter had his list and I mine. My chores were loading/unloading the dishwasher, setting the table, cleaning my bathroom, emptying trash around the house and picking up pine cones so Dad could mow the grass (eventually I mowed the grass, and then Carter and I went back to pick up). It seems like Carter and I traded off on feeding Fluffy the ridiculously finicky dog. Taking note from my Mom, I realized it would be an excellent inventory tool for me today, so that is what I have done.

I made a chart with all my chores including practicing piano and running. I use smiley faces as I could not find stars (weird). The smiley faces are good, they make me smile. I am able to see two things with this tool: 1) that I have actually done a task x-amount of times and 2) when it is time to do it the next week if it is a weekly thing (i.e. dusting, cleaning the bathroom, etc). It is reassuring. I ran three times last week. I have run once this week and have done weights once this week. Success!

The most important thing this inventory brings me is the eraser for the forgetter. No more thinking this is hard and I can't when I have proof that I can and did. To boot, there is a smiley face cheering me on from the front of my refrigerator. God-bye forgettor, hello smiley face!

2008-08-17T18:03:00.002-05:00

Quick status update (for Sarah and others). Last week I ran two miles for three days out of seven. My high time was 28:45 and my low time was 25:36. I wasn't able to get through the full two mile without stopping. I felt pretty inadequate about it because I have never not been able to do something. Even when I up and started running cross country for school, I could run the full two miles right off the bat. So I went to one of my favorite cross country runners, Grace. She is Sherry's 14 year old daughter who is an athlete of monumental proportions. She said that it took her about a week before she could run the full two miles. This was even after being at soccer and basketball camps during the summer and some outside basketball conditioning. She is tall and thin and has about five percent body fat, maybe six during the summer. She says don't worry about walking. She did say that try to run even if the run is slower than it would be if you walked. She said it conditions your body correctly. Okay, I say.

So today, I ran again. I ran the first mile at 12:38 with no walking and ran until about the half mile mark on the second mile. That is where the "wiltshire" hill starts straight up for about a quarter of a mile. It is very painful--literally. I got a stitch in my side that almost made me stop, but Grace told me how to work that out too so I kept going. I had a slow time today, but I ran further than I've ever run so far. I figure if it takes a gal who is in shape a week to run a full two miles, it will probably take me a month. That is my goal. In a month, two miles, no stopping.

2008-08-16T12:24:00.002-05:00

I haven't been to a general practicioner since I was in college the first time. This means no physical, and in my mind, nothing wrong with me. I went in to the regular doctor to get a referral to an allergist as my allergies have become overwhelming. Thanks to the wiles of insurance, that is the necessary order to get to the allergist. I wish I could have just gone to the allergist, but whatever. When I went to the regular doctor, she insisted that I have a physical. This included being weighed, measured and worst, stuck (ow) for blood to be "tested."

Now, I am four doctor visits later and went from taking one pill prior to going in, to five pills and a nasal spray steroid. Turns out that I have severe allergies to dust, dust mites and hickory and pecan tree pollens. The severity is in the dust mites. So I get to take two pills and a spray for that. My regular doctor found out I had acid reflux (thanks to Dad's side of the family) and high cholesterol (thanks to Mom's side of the family). So now I have two more pills. One once a day, one twice a day. Yes, I have two wierd dysfunctions that normally don't happen until people are members of AARP.

The diagnosis that trips me out the most is the high cholesterol. Turns out that a high LDL count can lead to arteriosclerosis, which my grandaddy had, aka hardening of the arteries. So now I am eating a double portion of oatmeal in the morning (on a daily basis to lower cholesterol), cheerios for lunch, snacks and dinner (takes three portions of cheerios, instead of two like oatmeal), fruits and vegetables and other sterol induced products and taking a one a day vitamin that has Niacin (B3) and rigorous exercise which includes weights 2-3 times a week, to get back to normal. Ideally, I would love to be tested again and startle my regular doctor by having normal levels of LDL. Yeah, I don't actually expect that to happen, but I am going to give it everything I've got. I don't know that it will work, but I am going to try.

Now here's the craziest part of all: every pill I take is a different shape. I have a trapezoid, a circle, a square, an oval, and a rectangle. Then there is the vitamin, but I don't know what shape it is. Super huge, is that a shape? I can take all five of the pills together in one swish of water, but I have to take a whole cup of water to get the one a day vitamin down. Stupid. I am never going to the doctor again.

Okay, maybe I am just not going to the doctor until my next appointment.

2008-08-12T09:38:00.002-05:00

I made the best damn omlet of my life.

When I was drunk, I used to say that I made the best omlets. But when I got sober, not so much. Guess I had to be drunk to add to the flavor. Now, I am not a happy go lucky heart healthy food kinda gal. I didn't eat steak until I was 16. I didn't eat red sauce on my spaghetti until...I was in college? I didn't eat green leafy veggies (ie broccoli and dark lettuces) until last year. I am just, well, I am just persnickity. My idea of a good meal consists of a Caramel Macchiato, M&M's, McD's french fries and a prime rib from Outback with tigerdill. I would eat myself crazy on that meal. Unfortunately, that meal makes me fat. As it turns out when you get older, you lose muscle mass as a result of less activity, creating a lower metabolism, leading to fat and so the cycle of an old fat person begins. It starts at 30 btw. It's hard to say which came first, the low metabolism or the lessening activity. Either is possible.

Now that I am 32 and fat, I have decided to act on my inevitability of less muscle tone. I began on December 26 of last year trying to eat no sugar and no white flour. Mind you, I also have no alcohol, no cigarettes, no meddling in others affairs already so to add no sugar and no white flour was no easy task. But I did it. It was stupid. I lost fifteen pounds and every time my horomones kick in, I gain five. All this tells me is that in six months of no sugar and no white flour, I lost ten pounds. Stupid. Don't worry. I limited my caloric intake too. That is how I lost the extra ten and gain five every hormornal cycle. Stupid.

So I have given up on the no sugar diet and made a batch of brownies for some of John's very happy campers and LICKED THE BOWL. It was the best batch of brownies I've ever had. After my splurge, I realized that was not the healthiest approach to continue to loose weight. So I ran. I ran almost two mile. It took me about 25 minutes which means that I was running about a 15 minute mile. It was my compensation for the brownies. I have also added reading a book to my healthy stuph. So as of Monday, I read a part of the book and ran two miles. Then on Tuesday, I did it again. Although I realized that a 15 min mile is a little on the slow side (my Dad is laughing at me right now wondering if I was walking and yes admittly there were periods of a fast pace walk), I timed my first mile to see what I was really running. My first mile was 12 1/2 mins. The second was more. I made it a full two miles on Tuesday and was able to get back before 30 minutes. I will try again today.

Today is my third day on the book and the run plan and as a way to continue to add stuph to the plan, I thought I should try to eat as healthy as I could. I thought an omlet would be nice, but I don't make good omlets. I made one anyway. I figured worse comes to worse, I would give it to Mikey. Mikey likes anything. I made a perfect omlet. I don't know how that happened. Maybe it was the cast iron skillet or the real butter that I used to season the bottom of it, or the milk that I added to the eggs, or the eggs themselves being farm eggs. I don't know, but it encourages me to eat more healthy stuph. So now, the omlet is a part of the healthy plan this week: read the book, run, eat the best damn omlet ever.

2008-08-05T12:14:00.002-05:00

I have had a lot of allergies in my life. When I was little: whole milk. I would drink whole milk and break out. Mom thought it might have been the froot loops: boy was I glad it was the milk. I mean really can you imagine being a kid without froot loops? Anyway, then when we moved to GA, I was being babysat by the McKinnises and they had a very large hill to roll down. My brother and I rolled down that hill a lot for one day. I came home with a rash. Carter, not so much. So now we know I am allergic to whole milk and grass. That was about it...

Carter on the other hand, would come home from school with migranes as a result of allergies. Ever seen a cute little boy with a migrane? vomitting on the bus? It is pretty sad. All because of allergies. Dad has allergies too. AND I can remember going with my Grandmother when I was little to the doctor because she had to have shots, her allergies were so bad.

Outside of the milk *which I grew out of* and the grass *which I never rolled down a hill again so..* I really have never faced any true full blown omg allergies. Then I became an adult.

Turns out that I am allergic to alcohol and cigarette smoke. Which for those of you who are new, I had a serious bout of intoxication for about six years and smoked for...nine almost ten years *two packs a day, preferably* Turns out my system can't really take either of them. Now that there is no alcohol or cigarettes, I found this nice man who graciously married me and we live on this farm. Now, I don't know what I am allergic to, but these are the possibilities:

hay, dogs, cows, grass, mold, mildew, random bush outside of window, magnolias, my husband, down pillows, old mattress, down comfortor, ants, bees, wasps, spiders, tide, smell good spray i got for bday...I could go on, but these are the ones that are so present they make me sneeze.

I have been taking good over the counter drugs. But like all otc drugs, I have built a tolerance to them. I went to the doc last week, she gave me samples of not so otc drugs until we found out what works. Yeah, not the samples. If I mix the samples with the otc things get better, but not either drug separately. Why am I blogging about my snottiness you wonder?

I am scheduled to see an allergist tomorrow. The allergist said no meds for three days prior to visit. In case you are wondering: my eyes are leaking, itching, burning; my head is splitting, my nose is sneezing. I WANT MY DRUGS.

Tomorrow we will know exactly what is ringing my bell. Until then, I whine.

2008-08-02T08:55:00.005-05:00

So I was just lamenting to my friend Michelle, how everyone else I knew got to go to the beach this summer and I didn't. Waaaa....

Then, my husband was invited to the beach! So we are at the beach! Thank you God for listening to my whining!

Here are some shots so far:

This one is for proof that I am here. (My toenail polish matches my bathing suit!)

This beautiful creature flew in to say hello while we were on the beach yesterday.

Ah...The next Christmas card? Definite potential!

2008-07-29T11:41:00.003-05:00

I have been told that in order to have self esteem, you must do esteemable acts. How hard it is to take action when the self esteem is so low it registers a negative number? I can tell you. It is pretty damn hard.

I went to the gym today. That is hard when you have negative self esteem. Everyone else around me was better than me. They worked harder. The looked better. They sweated more. I was...

Without.

I am not sure when my self image got so low. In high school, I was a crazy person. I was on a sports team (cross country, swimming or soccer depending on the quarter). I was in a lot of clubs. I was a part of a production (either at school or church or a private concert for violin or piano). I was a decent student: out of 6 classes I made A's and B's with one inevitable C by one point. I went to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings and evenings and sometimes even Fridays and Saturdays. I had a lot going on and was constantly on the go. I was crazy because even with all of those activities, I always felt like I didn't fit in. I had so many groups I interacted with and none of them was I apart of wholly. I didn't go to school with the youth in the church. I didn't go to the same piano or violin teacher as the kids in the performing arts. I loved the performing arts, but I played instruments, I didn't sing and dance. I was in dance classes but I was an athlete. Nothing fit. I don't know that I had a best girlfriend the entire time I was in high school. I was only ever asked out once in highschool and I never went out on a date. Too boot, I was a mean, arrogant, judgemental girl. I don't know that this made me have low self esteem, but it is the first time I am cognizant of having low self esteem. I don't know that when I was in highschool I was aware my esteem was low because I was still figuring out who I was. I never was worried about my body though. I never found low self esteem in my body image. Of course how can you when you dance for an hour and then after school do a sport for an hour? Two hours of working out everyday makes anyone sleek and wonderful.

I don't know how I got to negative self esteem, but I know that I have it. I know mentally that when I do things like go to the gym, it creates self esteem. So in that sense, I have more esteem than I did yesterday. If I could do that everyday: just do one esteemable act, perhaps I could recreate a ground zero. Maybe even go into the positive numbers of low self esteem. I don't know.

God grant me the strength and courage.

2008-07-21T08:37:00.002-05:00

I have so many letters to write today. I have three blogs to finish, two thank you letters, two belated birthday cards and two real omg letters to two people who are patiently waiting...

I have so many pieces to play today. I have a Bach Invention to polish, two sontinas I am working on and two real omg hymns to learn of two hymns who have been patiently waiting my whole life to be learned and played...

I have so many rooms to clean. I have a bathroom that has put up with three people this week instead of two. I have a kitchen that has a trash filled from not just me while John was at work and two real omg sinks full of dishes desperate to be washed, waiting patiently...

I have so many movies to watch. I have one that was ordered last week and is still not watched and may never make it into the dvd player before being returned to netflix which is like omg, rae didn't watch a movie? Meanwhile the others that know it is their turn out of the library of good movies scream to be played...

I have so many groceries to buy...

I have so many flowers to arrange...

I have so many friends to say hello to ...

I have so many phone calls to make to catch up on life...

I have so many dogs to love...

I have so many, so many, so many things to do.

2008-07-18T11:31:00.002-05:00

Gonna rise up

Find my direction magnetically

Gonna rise up

Throw down my ace in the hole

I live on this farm in these mountains, but once in a while a get-a-way is necessary. Then the trek to the rents and back again, just a little away, not too far away, comes to be. After a bit of time in the more southern part of the state yet not considered south because it is not as far as Macon; after a little bit of love from Mom, fetching with the Patches and singing from Dad, I start on the back again part of the trek. As I ride to music (eddie vedder preferably), I find myself moved in different directions. It is traveling music that allows me to appreciate my drive and its surroundings.

As I came around that curve, you know, the curve where the ATL skyline bursts through for the first time and no matter how much traffic you are surrounded by, it just strikes you. It strikes you every time. Stunning. To me, if feels like I am seeing home again. It makes my heart gasp. Coincidentally, traffic slows right at that point as well, which is good so I can soak it all in. The architecture of the buildings, the crazy billboards, the signs marking familiar places I know so well. The cityscape weaves through overpasses and sudden shifts in the traffic that makes me pay attention to the road. Then as I move over left to go northeast instead of west and then back to the right again allowing me access to the road that stops short getting me home, I pay a toll of fifty cents only to find my company includes vehicles that live in this nostalgic place: mercedes, lexus, bmw...beautiful cars for a beautiful city.

As I wait in line to pay my $.50, I wonder, what would it be like to live here again? Would I be employed instead of in school? Would I be successful? Would I have dogs? Who would my friends be? Would I be married? Would I be sober? It's my turn to pay: "thank you."

The farther north I ride, the less expensive the cars are: they go from sports cars to mom busses to work trucks to farm trucks. The farther north I ride, the smaller the buildings get. The building of last resort is where the road says that it is ending and on the other side of the stop light it gets a new name which makes it local instead of stately; is a home depot that built its self into the side of a mountain and fought long and hard for a too tall sign and lost. Then the buildings are but farm houses and barns. The pastures stretch and the architect of this landscape is not human. There are trees taller and older than most anyone who lives in the farm houses. There are tucked away bbq smoke houses. There are fruit stands with fresh produces parked at the main road that carries me to my farm, there at the last stop light.

The next twenty miles are all God's country. There are stopsigns instead of stoplights. The "traffic" consists of a man on his tractor carrying a round bale to another part of his farm and had to surface on the two lane road to get there. Despite the double yellow line, there is time and ability to pass him, but not without a wave and a smile. The roads begin to curve. They go up and down and all around. Soon, there is no way to go over 20 miles an hour to get through the dead man's curve and I am almost home. Turning right at the winery, I can see the workers tending to the vines. Last turn...

My whole body begins to relax, knowing it is within walking distance to the farm. But as a reminder as to why I call my farm home, coming around a curve, the sky opens up to a magnificent mountain picturesque scene and I know. I know that I would never be the person I am today. I know that no matter how enticing the city can be, I would never have met the man of my dreams; I would never have these dogs; I would never be in school; I would never have my best friend I have; I would never have stayed sober but rather fought a losing fight.

I would never be me in that city. I know, that I am, I am right where I am supposed to be. I am finished with the trek back again. I am home.

2008-07-15T16:34:00.004-05:00

Why is feminism percieved as something bad?

From Websters:
Main Entry: fem·i·nism
Pronunciation: \ˈfe-mə-ˌni-zəm\
Function: noun
Date: 1895
1 : the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes

2 : organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests
— fem·i·nist \-nist\ noun or adjective
— fem·i·nis·tic \ˌfe-mə-ˈnis-tik\ adjective

Why wouldn't I want to be treated equally in all aspects of my life or have someone argue on my behalf to be treated equally? My rights and interests: wouldn't that include things like work, play, home, faith, relationships with others including my husband, children and future children, parents, siblings, friends: why wouldn't I want something like this in my life? Why is it considered bad? Why wouldn't I be considered a lady for desiring equality?

Can you tell I've been trolling on your site Vicki?

I found a link to LAF. It seems like this great site for conservative women, yet I find fallacy in its name. It is not that the site is about "Ladies Against Feminism." I read the starter as suggested and the who we are section and I have to disagree with the name of the site. In reality it is all about women who are feminists to the nth degree. I was so proud to see women being women on that site. What the site really is, is Conservative Feminism. Liberals don't write the book on feminism, although they do cause a lot of ruckus ever since that bra burning incident in the 60's which will never be forgotten. In order to be a feminist just means you are to be female and have rights and interests. There is no question that LAF has interests and rights. I don't agree with half of them, but I respect that someone stands up and states a position even if I don't agree with it. It is the fundamental of freedom of speech. A fundamental that as an American woman, I have the right to practice and so does LAF, supported by her site. I think she is the epitome of feminism and her campaign against liberal feminism almost proves the point of feminism, which is in some wild way ironic and ridiculous, which takes the power out of her persuasion from her soap box on which she stands.

I would much more be attracted to her site if she stood for honesty which is that she is not against feminism so much as is a conservative feminist and that is just okay to be.

2008-07-15T08:48:00.002-05:00

Ever have reality hit you in the chest so hard it makes you gasp? Had that happen to me the other day when I realized that my step son wasn't just staying for the weekend, rather moved into my little farm house. That is not so easy to sneak into, but he was stealthy about it and commandeered his Dad in order to make it happen. One thing is for sure: I am totally a new wife. When I was asked if my step son could come and stay, I said sure. NEW WIFE. Old wife would have said "for how long?" or "can we talk about this?" or "I need to think about it." New wife says, "sure" and two days later says, "wait what did I say yes to? oh, no....".

Just when I think this whole wife stuph is old hat, they sneak a new one in on me.

2008-07-10T22:23:00.002-05:00

When that "no smoking" sign goes off it makes a ding and you'll know everything is going to be alright.

Okay, where's the ding? Where's the ding?

It's comin....I promise its coming, just wait for it.

Okay....

Ding.

2008-07-09T21:57:00.008-05:00

daisies are the friendliest flowers

Today at the healing service, which I highly suggest to anyone who just needs to feel loved, the homily was on God's presence with us. Our priest is so poetic in her oration: "To be in God's presence is to let ourselves be swept away with the Divine Tide." Isn't that the truth of the matter? If I just let go, God always, always, always, takes ahold and things go smoothly. Then the Bible study just after that with the DOK was on Romans. Romans is a hard book, especially when taken in chunks. The versus we read were from Chapter 8, 1-11.

I like verse 2: For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.

and I like verse 9, the first part: However, you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you.

I have worked very hard in this life of mine to become happy, joyous and free. Lately, I have noticed that there is a lot of prejudice in many of the people I learn from towards my faith. not My faith, but my Faith. They don't hold any prejudice towards me. It has been a burden to listen to those who ride the tide of spiritual kindergarten only to find that they can only teach me the ABC's. I have had a thirst for more. I started asking around in those circles of women if there was any interest in studying the Gospels with me and found only one yes. I told God to show me women who want to study the Gospels, or the Bible or something more than the ABC's. I need more! Today, happily, I landed square in the middle of women who are full of wisdom and knowledge of the Bible and my Faith.

These versus we stumbled into and around in Romans made me realize that through my Faith, I am free. It also reminded me that while I associate with those who are in spiritual kindergarten, I am not isolated. I am not alone. The Spirit dwells within me. I am truly a spiritual being having a human experience. I am not alone. That prejudice and antagonism seems to fall by the wayside when I shift my perception to embrace my Faith. All men of courage have Faith. I just have to have the courage to carry that Faith, to seek that Spirit that dwells within me when faced with those who carry the prejudice and adversity. Although, I do not rebuke my ABC's. Without them, there is no possibility to have the Faith that I have today. I just will put them at the beginning of this Spiritual Experience.

2008-07-08T07:14:00.003-05:00

And so it begins...

The cows are going to slaughter. Actually, just the calfs go. This seems so aweful if you are a pet lover, but these cows are not pets, they are car payments. So Albert took 8 youngins off to market this morning. This means nothin to him, he lives on the other farm. Me, however, it means a lot to because I live here where the babies were taken from. My husband is to work so he is laughing that I am stuck on the farm. Why is it such a big deal? The mothers cry for their young for three days. They don't cry like boo hoo. They cry like moo moo. It is how they call their young when they are too far away from the heard or time to eat or lost. So they will look and cry for three days...and nights. They will break away from the heard and go looking for the youngins so that they are all discombobulated. They roam all over the place crying for their young...and all night. Sometimes they get stuck right outside my window...all night. Luckily, I can scare em off if it gets too much, but still, it is loud and it is painful. And it is three days of mooing...and three nights.

2008-07-07T21:14:00.002-05:00

Lack of Power is my Dilemma...

this is the underlying factor for many things in psychology including alcoholism/addiction, borderline personality, codependency, and anxiety disorder. i hear over and over that alcohol is but a symptom, the underlying crux is control. people who have panic attacks have stress induced attacks brought on by a percieved lack of control aka fear. while there is medication to treat panic attacks, therapy is better...irrational fear is percieved, not real. then there is real fear: omg i might die, a black bear is chasing me. although... if the bear is not there, heavy psychotic meds will be administered at once, but that has nothing to do with power, that is more on the side of crazy...ha

so today, this afternoon, a gun shot rang out at our farm. my husband was outside watering the dogs when he hit the ground. i came running outside to see if he was okay only to find him perturbed that someone was discharging a weapon on the farm and we didn't know about it. he drove out into the pasture to look for someone near the stump dump because that was the direction the sound came from. i went back into the house...to find the entire house was without power. the percieved fear of a gunshot was really a transformer on the property and one unhappy bird. talk about powerlessness...

people say that medication can treat irrationality, but in reality, faith is the only truth that works for fear...my husband was not afraid to go out into the pasture looking for someone holding a weapon, despite the underlying fear that if someone was out there he could have been shot. that faith brought out the truth that a person was not the culprit of the racket, just an unsuspecting animal. my husband was not afraid. this is new because ten years ago he was.

lately i have had some strange dreams, violent, drunken dreams. i have had a hard time understanding what was going on. i finally realized that eight years ago, about this time, i was so heavily intoxicated, i can't remember days. not like hey, i can't remember what i did last night, but hey i can't remember what i have done since i got on a plane in orlando and flew back into atl on the fourth of july and now it is the tenth of july and i don't remember anything in between. strangley, i went to work, i went to the bar with friends, and i probably came home, maybe. those are just guesses. i think the reasons for my dreams are due to the powerlessness i was experiencing eight years ago both over alcohol and in the figurative language of "boom, boom out go the lights" when i drank. i was anesticizing myself in order to not have fear. i had no control and in order to become empowered, i had to come to believe in a power greater than me.

i still have a lot of fear today, but not the irrational fear i once had. i have a lot more faith today. one thing is for sure, i remain powerless.

2008-07-05T11:37:00.013-05:00

I threw my first party last night. Not as in first party ever. My first party ever was a back to school party when I was sixteen. But it was my first party as a Mrs and at the farm. Now, just like then, not everyone came who I wanted to come, showed and then there were those who didn't stay long enough. Strangely, this seems to be the way it goes with parties. People who say they will show up don't and people who say they can't make, miraculously do! It was a fun evening setting expectations aside. Cleaning the house all day wasn't all that fun. I was almost so tired by the time the party started that I was willing to say so sorry, we cancelled it. But I didn't thankfully. We grilled out burgers and had pot luck sides. The house was lovely and the evening perfect. Everyone brought citrenella which SO really helped, and as a result, we are fully stocked for another hang-out-get-together. We bought tiki torches from the dollar store for more than a dollar but cheaper than the home depot tiki torch that was more than a dollar. So between the tiki's, the candles and the bug juice, we were bug free.

I got some nice shots while there was still light. They are my friends:

This is DonnaRae.

She wins the award for best t-shirt ever.

She also has a great name becasue it includes the name RAE. This is her husband, Lee, who is the first person I've met that used the word "schlep" correctly in a sentence. They are yanks via Florida who moved to North Georgia as a result of a work transfer. They are such city folks. It is cool that they showed up when they did because we had another set of friends who were yanks via Florida who left to return to Florida about the same time. It was an good, even trade.

This is Gena and Bella or Bella-bug as I call her. In our family there are Kellybug and Jennybug so Bella Bug just happens into my language. Gena is a long-time, dearly loved friend who had this perfect child about two years ago. In this pic Bella is playing in the dog's water bowl while ringing the chimes hanging over it. It was her very own game of splash and ring. She was a hoot the whole night. During the fireworks she kept saying "More Mama! More!" In case you are curious, yes she is always dressed this cute.

This is one of mine and John's oldest and dearest friends, Nicki. Nicki is the only one out of my friends who can not just make my brother smile, but make Carter burst into outright, full throated laughter. Nicki is always full of jokes and smiles. And last night, not to outdo himself, he made my day. He brought fireworks last night. When I think of someone bringing fireworks, I think of blackcats or sparklers or a roman candle or two. Oh NO. Not Nicki. We had fireworks like the kind at the end of a Braves game or at Stone Mountain or at the lake in Avondale. It was UNbelivable. They were cannons that scared the heck out of my pups and lit up the sky. It was UNreal. He must have brought $100 worth or fireworks. They were so cool that people offered to help him pay for them when it was all said and done. I couldn't believe that we had real fireworks at the farm. Who'd of guessed I'd throw a real Fourth of July party? One thing is for sure: thanks to Nicki, more people will show up next year.

2008-07-01T20:03:00.002-05:00

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear MEEEEEEEEE....Happy Birthday to me! HAHA!

Yes, I got a piano for my birthday. In case you are curious, it is a $35 piano I bought at a garage sale this weekend. It took two women and John to load it on the truck. It took John and an older man, who just happened up from floating down the creek that boarders our property, to get it in the sun room. It took me and John to get it over the hump from the sun room into the spot its in right now. Woohoo! The first song I played on it was "Rejoice, the Lord is King" from my Music Makers awarded hymnal for perfect attendence during the 82-83 school year at First Baptist Decatur. It is a 1975 version. Hurray!!!! I have a piano!! My music quest is coming to life.

2008-07-01T12:53:00.000-05:00

Waiting with baited breath

2008-06-24T23:06:00.002-05:00

Why is it that the lady on the "time to quit" commercial who encourages people to stop smoking and calls it an addiction to nicotine, like that is not the same thing as smoking (there is no such thing as a social smoker, if you call yourself a smoker--you are addicted), makes me want to pull my cigarettes up and light one up? The problem is that I don't have any cigarettes and haven't bought cigarettes for like five years or something. Not to mention, I don't think I have a lighter either. If I had to start a campfire, I would have to go to the store. Do you know how long it takes for me to get to a store from the farm? Fifteen minutes, minimum. So weird. You'd think that a stop smoking campaign would make you say, golly, glad I stopped that looks aweful not give me a drag, or yeah, let's see if I can smoke an entire pack in the time it takes to play the commercial. Something is wrong with the "your time to quit" marketing. There is a better commercial that is on the dvds as a preview that is a cowboy in newyork who sings through a mike that is pressed into his throat and sings to you that you don't always die from smoking, sometimes they just take a lung and tongue and give you a machine so that you can talk through your throat. Yeah, watching that guy, makes me really grateful that God has removed the obsession of smoking. I mean pressing a mike to your throat to talk? Weird and scary all wrapped into one.

2008-06-23T07:51:00.002-05:00

My husband left me this morning. This is not uncommon in our marriage lately. For about the past year he has been leaving me every three or four days. Apparently, he recieves some type of monetary compensation for his disappearance, I believe some people call it a salary. For that first hour or so that he is gone (all though this is a great improvement as it used to be an all day affair), I go into a denial thing. My head registers him leaving as though he was going to Linda's to get some milk. But then that reality hits. I get this grumpiness that settles on me. I find everything in my power to stop it, but inevitably, I get bored. So I just have to watch a movie or some form of tv show. A lot of times this coincides with the VIEW which makes me laugh. It tells me that it hits me about the same time every time. Then, after watching independent women talk about nothing for about thirty minutes, I feel enthused and recognize my own independence.

In the past the leaving for work for three days at a time has been placed conveniently at the same time as a test, paper or project that is due for school. Now, however, I am on break. I haven't had a break since last August. Well, before that actually because I was working up to the day I went to school. So I guess it was last July when I went with Sherry and the kids to Anna Maria Island for a week. So almost a year. That makes it the right time for another vacation. I would say I had Christmas break, but that was more of a run around and see every family member imaginable and work and anything else we could think of to squeeze in there in order to go back to school suddenly. Then there was the break between Spring Semester and Summer Semester that lasted two weeks in which I went to visit Mom, because it is always such a relief to visit Mom, and then thought Mrs. K, John's Mama, was dying. Oof. No break there. Thinking someone is going to die is excrutiatingly hard on the system.

So here I am. First day on a summer break. My husband leaves me and...I have nothing to study, plan, work on, go to, or do. My cabinets are all painted, my sun room established. My house is clean. Maybe the VIEW is on. Maybe not. Who would know that summer break would be so confusing.

2008-06-21T16:15:00.002-05:00

There is something brave in going to the supermarket in a small town on a Saturday. There are no parking space, except at the end of the lot. There are people with their dogs in the shopping cart. There are a random assortment of people instead of the normal ones you are used to seeing all the time. I actually did not see one person I knew except my youngest step son. Lucky for me he's big and hard to miss because if he were say the size of a normal human, he would have blended with the tourists and folks in town to see mom, the mountains, helen, the car show, the picnic at the state parks, family fun at the water park (yes, we have a water park), the scenic routes with quaint fruit stands on the side of the road that have been owned by the same family for generations. There were people stopping and starting at odd intervals, trying to drag carts out of the way. The congestion in the aisles was that of gridlock in downtown Atlanta on a Friday at three o'clock. What ever happened to get your groceries before you get there? I mean really, that's just ridiculous. Courage, I tell you. Courage. I dare you to go into the Ingles on a Saturday afternoon when there's not a cloud in the sky and in a tourist-sort-of town. See if you get out alive...ain't easy. Ain't gonna doit again.

2008-06-19T22:09:00.001-05:00

I heart Grey's Anatomy.

2008-06-17T18:52:00.002-05:00

I have been on a diet for some time now. Successfully losing fifteen pounds so far and would really appreciate losing another twenty to be about the right size for me. This is something that is hard for me, as I have always been a thin person. I have always been a generally active person. So for me it almost wounds my pride to have to DIET. I mean, really isn't that for fat people? I AM FAT. According to the FDA, I am slightly overweight with a slightly higher BMI than normal (I need to lose two points--what ever that means!)

My family thought it would be a great idea to go to Dairy Queen for Father's Day. This is jim dandy if I could eat sugar, white flour and two thousand calories a day, but as it turns out, I can't AND lose weight. But I was curious, how many calories does that Blizzard really have...I mean, really. Dad says 4000 calories. This would explain why the American public is severely obese. Turns out, oh Pop of mine, the oreo blizzard is 570 calories for a small. The one that little brother had, strawberry cheesequake, is 530 calories. I can't remember which one Momo picked, but I would have had a chocolate blizzard: that is to say the one with the most chocolate possible blizzard: Brownie Batter Blizzard, which is 630 calories...for a small.

Don't worry it is only over half my caloric intake for a whole DAY! Can you say superfat?

All I have to say to you mealy mouthed blizzard eaters is HA! I will not be conned into your wiley ways to eat your way to filling, sweet tasting treats. I will persevere! I will be thin again!

HA! Take that!

2008-06-14T10:37:00.002-05:00

If you are wondering what happened to all the bees in North America, what's left of them are in my bush in front of my house. They buzz so loudly when the sun comes up that they wake me up in the morning and my brother can hear them over the phone. Bzzzzzzz....See you can hear them too. Bzzzzzbzzzzzzzzz

2008-06-13T20:03:00.001-05:00

How Now Brown Cow.

Don't you wish you could pick your nose with your tongue?

2008-06-10T16:24:00.002-05:00

I have a friend who is dieing.

She has cancer, but that is not what's killing her. What is killing her is the cirrhosis. He body is no longer protected from the toxins in her liver. Her eyes were yellow. She had beautiful blue eyes and today while the blue is still there, the yellow is overwhelming. If she makes it alive until 17th she will have two years without a drink of liquor. Two years without a drink and it still is killing her.

I have another friend who cannot go 24 hours without a drink. She has a kid, a husband and knows about God, but cannot not drink. She cannot figure out how to have a relationship with God and doesn't understand how I do what I do. She hasn't had a drink since last night and it is killing her.

When I look at my life today, I see a sleeping husband, a lazy dog, a violin begging to be practiced, books waiting to be studied and bank account thirsting for money. I am one of those people who is broke and happy. I can remember seeing people who were broke and happy and wondering how they did it. Now I know.

You know, when I get up in the morning, the first thing I do is get on my knees and say a version of the Jabez prayer, and then I ask God to remove the obsession and compulsion to drink, I ask God to give me a desire to stay sober today. I don't know that I truly did that until I was in my Sautee apartment and had almost two years without a drink. Before then, I asked God to give me a desire to stay sober, but it was while I was still in that not willing to get out of bed stage of sleep and not sleep. It was still a prayer, but it is not the prayer which I take to Him today. I have an honest desire to stay sober today. And my disease is not killing me today.

2008-06-07T16:02:00.003-05:00

I like the way my fingers feel after I have practiced. They are tender on the ends and my arm is always aching. I am pulling my elbow more in so that I can relax my pinkie more to get a better fourth finger sound and my arm aches because I don't know that I have ever practiced it right. But now that I am, owee. It was weird when I picked up my violin today, it was all in tune about a half step low. I think that the heat has something to do with it. The temp at the bank in Clarkesville was 102. The temp on my computer here at the farm says 91. The best part of it is, farm life mean no AC. So it is probably 85 in my house right now, thus the reason I am drinking ice water and sweating like a pig. I actually had to put a wash cloth on my chin rest so my chin would slip off from sweat. It also made the chin rest like ten times more comforatble. Gavotte in G Minor is coming along. My fours are not sounding like fours much any more. They are sounding like notes. Now, if I can just add some vibrato, I will be professional...in ten more years with intense work!

2008-06-05T09:33:00.002-05:00

My new son. Oprah thinks she has really cool guests when she brings on the guy who can hold his breath for the world record. I say that's nothing. I can have children without giving birth. Even better than that, I can have children that are six months older than me. Do that Oprah!

Yeah, it has been a regular soap opera in my life this past year. We lost a grandson through a paternity test and gained a son, daughter-in-law and two more grandkids as a result of ghosts revealing themselves from the past.

This week is crazy for me. We are having our makeup day for Memorial Day so instead of having my normal Friday off, I have Friday on which means lots of school work. There is an anda that goes with that: And I am doing church flowers this week, and I am chairing Sunday night, and I am printing out invitations for David's birthday, and I am making a care package for a mentoree from John's work, and I am studying for a test that is on five chapters on Monday, andI am going to church Sunday morning if it kills me, and I am writing two papers due Monday, and the Donnelly's want me to have dinner, and I have been craving some Sweetwater coffee time, and I am supposed to hang out with Veronica Saturday night. Can you say INSANE?

There is a reason my life is a soap opera.

I lost five pounds. This means that I am fifteen down on my forty that I want to lose. I didn't think I was ever going to lose any more weight, I thought I was going to be stuck at ten pounds forever.

My Mikey dog is losing five pounds in fur all over the place. Shedding makes me grateful he is an outside dog.

I am totally cruising on Minuet two and am looking into Gavotte in G minor. I am working on getting the dynamics right not to mention the intonation. There is a little exercise that is listed for the song for intonation. I was horrible the first time I played it. My guess is this piece will need more work than the last one.

I'm trying to think of a title for my soap opera. "Life on the Farm" Nah, nothing happens on a farm, well not usually. Normally we just get new calfs not new sons.

2008-06-01T12:20:00.002-05:00

I really like my old farm house today. It was a little scary this morning in the summer thunderstorm, but otherwise, it is turning into a cool house. The sun room has come along nicely. John has stored cabinets in there, which I think he may have thought they would be used it the kitchen, but I liked them so much right where they lay, I loaded them up with stuph. It gives the sun room an air of a study with a lot of light. I like it. It helped that I took the dead fish off the wall that looked like at one point in time was a trophy of some sort but lately looked like it should have been inside Grimald Place with Kreacher. I have hung pictures up instead. Pictures are nice. It is a way of filling the room up with people who love you and who you love without haveing to deal with any of their defects. All I have left are to put in the books that are at storage. Maybe Tuesday.

I have a test tomorrow on Interest and Time Value of Money. I am haveing a hard time finding motivation to study, but it always comes out okay in the end. How? Its a mystery.

I also finished painting my kitchen cabinets. They are now all blue. I like that. Blue. Next, the walls. I was thinking green, but the color green I have is icky. Kind of looks like mud actually. I think I will try a yellow instead. A real yellow as opposed to the white that has turned yellow due to being painted in the fifties? We shall see. That is a big project.

My next small big project is to get the computer area cleaned up. This is a lot bigger deal than painting the walls because it is mostly John's things. He is not much on change, but I can't stand the random clutter any more. It has some semblance of organization in his mind...not mine. Gracefully, he is allowing me to move things. I hope he will like it. I hope I will like it.

I think this random farm house is becoming my home. Ah...the little things.

2008-05-29T18:00:00.002-05:00

Careful the things you say, Children will listen
Careful the things you do, Children will see, and learn...

Gosh, I just love that musical. I don't have a formal thought so I think I will just jot things down.

Memorial Day was not about the pool opening this year like it has been for the whole rest of my life. This year it was about hay bailing. Every field close by cut the hay, let it lay, then fluffed it and bailed it into big round bales. Then, it came to my farm, to go in the barn.

It occurs to me that I don't know how to spell bale, or bail. hmm...

I planted flowers for the first time in my life. I now have valias, petunias, a rose bush and a butterfly bush. John placed the bushes. Thank goodness. I couldn't decide where to place them. Appropriately, John planted the rose bush over Rosa's grave. He's such a smart man.

I made a 97 on my first American History exam. I also have 10/10 on all my presentations. So far I have done two, which is all that is required for the class and every other one is extra credit. I am signed up for four. The first one, I wrote letters on behalf of Abigail Bartlett and Mary Adams to demonstrate what the colonists were thinking at the time of the Declaration of Independence. I also brought in my copy of the Declaration, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. What, you don't have a cool copy of the most important documents in the history of this country lying around your house? The second presentation was on polling. I used the West Wing for that one and took a poll of the class, which was my partners idea. The next one is on Congress. I was thinking of creating a mock congress with ranchers and shepherders instead of repubs and demos. I figure there are three bills that have to pass: one they all agree on, and two they don't. I'll probably get an A for that one too.

I made a B on my first Money and Banking test, which is good because it is WAY hard. Who really cares what happens to the GDP when the Fed injects money into the economy? I just want to balance your books.

The Martini Gavotte is polished off. I am moving onto bigger and better things, like Minuet 2, the extended version.

I got sunburned from planting flowers. I wore a funny hat and everything. Ahh..summer.

2008-05-20T19:02:00.002-05:00

As a reminder from God that I am on the right path, I discovered this wedding gift. I went to the storage unit today determined to unpack a box that had all my jewelry in it. What I found was this bowl. I was so surprised. It is a wedding gift from my violin teacher. Her card read "Wishing you a life together filled with joy and music."

Thanks Dr. J., I'm working on the music part as we speak.

2008-05-17T11:43:00.002-05:00

Ah, the Martini Gavotte. I didn't know realize what the Martini Gavotte was for when I was growing up. It was just another song in another book that was meant to graduate from by the end of the school year so that I could play in the spring concert and get an award. At the top of the page in my Book 3 of the Gavotte, there are four numbers across the top: 3 4 3 4 low 1. My only guess to this cryptic notation is that those were the fingerings that wer the hardest. There are also fours that are scribbled all over on the song and low ones. Tonation is hard for a young person playing violin. Tonation is hard for me now. I have always had a hard time with my fourth finger. When I would play with the pinkie it would go flat, like a locked knee. I've know that it was not supposed to do that. Dr. Jacobson used to try and help me get it so it would curve like the rest of the fingers. Never happened. It still goes flat. I remember at one point her yanking my elbow forward and the curve happened. Unfortunately, I never really practiced it and thus she couldn't get me to do it correctly. Today, I practiced it. I pulled the elbow around and practiced a curved pinkie fourth finger on every string. My pinkie is weak and the sound was not great, but I practiced. Now my pinkie is sore and my arm aches a little, but hopefully my hand will remember the skill and I can apply it. When I played the piece again, sometimes my finger still went flat, but sometimes not. It is like every thing else that is: discipline, practice, it is a process of learning. It is good to be playing music again.

2008-05-15T21:45:00.002-05:00

I am listening to Beetoven's Symphony No. 9. It is the cd that my Dad is on, it won a grammy. You are welcome to stop reading this blog now in order to go put in your own copy of that music to play along.

I'll wait.

When I was a little girl, when I was in the womb, my parents were producing music. You know how you see those commercials of a woman playing music to her baby belly with the headphones wrapped around her and oh aint that cute, she'll have a smart baby because she is playing it Mozart? My parents didn't need headphones for me to listen to music. They made music. You are guaranteed that I my Mom's baby belly was rocked by some of the racket my Dad makes with his voice. He still does that today. He'll be in the kitchen reading the newspaper and something will trigger a song in his head and bursts into full vocal operatic baritone beauty. (And it always sounds good in the kitdhen, good acoustics) That is the way my family is. We sing a Christmas blessing before Christmas dinner. If the Pettits are with us, we sing in four part harmony. I think I have been going to choir practice since before I was born. I know the entire soprano part to the Halleluia Chorus and I have never read the score. My friend Matt Durden, he knew he bass part. He actually reads the score now though. My bet is that he went to choir practice last night. My parents sang, played instruments, led choirs. I had music not just in my played into my Mama's belly, it was in my blood, it was in my ambiotic fluid. It helped give me life.

My brother, kind man that he is, took me as his date to the symphony. The Atlanta Symphony. He didn't know where it was. That's funny because I have gone to the symphony so much, I can't not know where it is. It is next to the house that belongs to an elderly woman, who wouldn't sell her land to AT & T so they built a skyscraper less than 50 feet from her back door. It is still there. On the other side of the symphony, there is the HIGH. When I was in elementary school we used to take field trips there and all the kids would ooo and ahhh. I loved to look up. It seemed as though the ceilings were as far away as the sky.

When I walked into Symphony Hall with my kind brother, I felt like I was missing a huge part of me. I felt like I had walked into my home. That is silly to say because I am not a season ticket holder of the symphony. It is not something that my parents raised me back stage. I am not that dramatic. I don't think it was the place that made me feel that way. I think it was knowing that there were musicians there. Music was there.

At some point in the fantastic evening of the Berlioz Requiem (which who writes a death march that is overwhelmingly fabulous?), my brother asked me what I was doing musically lately. Nothing. I'm doing nothing. I listen in my car. I sing to worship at church and everyone wants me in the choir. I am doing nothing.

I took piano from the time I was eight until I was twenty-one. I played Chopin nocturnes. I took violin from the time I was three until I was eighteen and then again at 21 for a life saving one hour credit that allowed me to graduate college. I sang in youth choirs. I sang solos at church even though I wasn't that great.

What are you doing with music?

I have been disturbed ever since. At one point my husband was going to buy me a piano and then, he didn't. I wish he had. I wish we had the money now to buy one.

What I do have is an instrument that is pitiful at best. I do have my violin. It is a student model. It does not make a great noise, but then again, I probably couldn't make a great noise on it either.

I love this part in the symphony. It makes the hairs on my arms stand up. It is best heard at a loud volume. It will blow your hair back.

I pulled out my violin tonight, just to see. I figured if I tuned it, the strings would break. They did. The hair on the bow fell off. Not all of it, but a significant amount. There was no rosin in the case. Turns out it was on the floor next to the case. The bridge had to be reset. I dusted it. My mechanical tuner had a dead battery. I couldn't open the case to see what kind it needed. John got it open and it needs a 9V.

I am thinking, I am in school right now. There are violin teachers at the school. I am not really going for music. I am going to be a CPA. Same language, different dialect.

So what am I doing with music? I am thinking about it. I am listening to it. Maybe, just maybe tomorrow, when I get new strings, I will play it.

2008-05-13T14:38:00.002-05:00

I love movies and sometimes tv because of the emotion it evokes in me. If I need to cry, Grey's Anatomy. If I need to remember that I am not alone? Breakfast Club. If I need to remember that I can conquer all odds? Rudy. If I just need to relax, I go to Green Gables.

2008-05-09T21:52:00.003-05:00

Home agin, Home agin,
Jiggity Jig,
Home agin, Home agin,
Big Fat Pig

Home agin, Home agin,
Jiggity Jog,
Home agin, Home agin
Big Fat Hog!

2008-05-06T12:50:00.002-05:00

Who am I to make you wait?

I thought about waiting until I got back to blog, but...

I miss my farm. I never thought that would be true. I mean I got to ride in a golf cart, got to go to the symphony and got to play with the prettiest dog in the world. So, why would I miss the farm?

I guess it has become home.

My stepson who is a black belt in karate is keeping the dogs and staying at the farm. I feel like this means that he will take care of my home. He is supposed to be installing some cabinetry on top of just eating us out of house and home and using our tv and internet. So not just taking care of my home, but improving it. That will be cool to come home to, a new cabinet to put stuph in.

I had no intention of being away from home so long, but things happen and then the homesickness sets in after so long. It will go away after while. I don't remember getting homesick too much when I was little. I remember calling my parents after two weeks at camp and asking if I could stay two more. They said no. But there was no homesickness then. So why now? I can't rightly say. Maybe it is part of this grown up stuph.

I will be glad when I can pet my dogs instead of someone else's dog or cat. I will be glad when I can go to my refridgerator, eat my no sugar, no white flour food. I will be glad to wake up in my own bed with my own quilt and my own teddy bear. Yes, at home, I sleep with a teddy bear. Two actually: Madison and Snickers. I have had snickers since I was one and madison since I was 21. They are my safety to make sure that no one takes me too seriously, including myself.

Although, I am traveling. This is not something I have had an opportunity to do much in my life. I get to spend good quality time with family. They are all people who I love and love me. This makes the homesickness, not so sickening. It makes me recognize the wealth I have in my life that is not nearly true for others. Did you know that one in five children are born into poverty in the United States? In the US? Can you believe? I have never been there. I have had the love of a mother and father, the love of a brother, the love of God, and here recently, the love of a husband and his family. That is still new and not sure what to do with all the extra new love that has come into my life. I just do my best to give it to other whom I run into along the way. I pray for strangers on the prayer list. I talk to anyone who calls me for help. There is only so much love you can store and you just have to give it away. The nice thing about having all the love is that there is less home sickness. So I guess I will just lean on the love a little more. There is a Bible verse that comes to mind: Trust the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. And love the Lord, your God with heart, your soul and your mind. This helps too. So I will. I will miss my farm another day. ah the simple things...

2008-04-30T10:18:00.002-05:00

The best dogs in the whole world. Farm life means having dogs. These two are accidents on our farm much like farm dogs are. You don't have to go to the pound in order to get a dog for a farm, all you have to do is walk outside one day and there they are. The black dog is Baby. She is an Austrailian Shepherd. She is a bit neurotic. Well, she was more neurotic when John got her. We were only dating when his son Eric, called John and pleaded to take this dog that the family that had her was going to have her put down. They had a family and a small yard and she was crazy. Initially, John had to chain her to the barn in order for her not to run for dear life. She was terrified and had been abused by a man. She didn't mind me petting her, but she flinched and went bezerk whenever John came close to her. Her neurosis calmed over time and now she knows that this is her home and nothing or no one will hurt her. She will always be fed, loved and have a safe place to be. So safe that a traveling sales man stopped through and surprise! she was pregnant. John is not one on taking the pets to the vet. The other dog he has, Red Dog, showed up fixed so he is not really all that interested in spending money on a useless dogs. But, turns out that pregnant dogs are no good for John either. So shortly after John and I were married in the dead of winter, Baby had babies. December eleven we think. She had seven and all seven lived through snow, cold and being born under a farm house. Out of the seven, five were given away. The girl pup went to Mom and Dad. She is by far the prettiest out of the litter, but totally inherited the neurosis. Mikey and Rocky were the two I kept. John wasn't giving away any dogs and I was giving away all the dogs and the last one made me cry so hard that I couldn't stand it. So we kept the last two. Someone decided that Rocky was pretty enough to steal and poof, he was gone off the farm. So now there is Mikey. Mikey is the best farm dog ever. He chases coyotes, calfs and crows. He is suspicious of anything or one that he has never seen before on the farm. Barks at anything that moves in the dark. Howls at the moon when he hears sirens. Baby still likes lovin more than any dog ever, but mostly likes hanging out with Mike. Although, Baby will from time to time go to the other farm and just hang out. Mikey is my dog. Red Dog is John's dog. Baby is the farm's dog. Mikey is my dog. Ahh...the simple things.