So I lied. Sue me. (Um, that's figurative. I mean, you could sue me, but I just recently got the first full-time job I've had in the last 3 years... flush with cash, I ain't.)
What did I lie about? I said I'd tell you about my new job. But I won't. Much. If at all.
This is hard for me. I'm really a fairly wide-open person in real life as well as on here. I spent a great deal of time weighing the pros and cons. The problem is my profession.
Yes, I'm still a counselor. A bona fide got-the-master's, got-the-preliminary-license counselor... yaay me! Some of you virtually walked the road to reach this point with me.
I can tell you that on the day of my interview for this job, I overslept. WAY overslept. I had to go meet the MC (my former boss and internship supervisor) at a restaurant to pick up a reference letter to take with me... so I had to go meet with him and on to my interview with only a quick clean up and no shower. As I explained to the MC, in my efforts to set my alarm a little earlier to give myself MORE time to get ready the night before, I somehow didn't manage to get the alarm turned back on.
The MC: Do they know about that gun you carry?
Me: What gun?
The MC: That one you're always shooting yourself in the foot with...
AHEM!
As for the blog, the concern lies in all that professional counseling entails. One of the backbones of counseling is confidentiality. Most of my readers are personal friends; they know me, and generally know where I live. Luckily, in my previous job, I didn't work in the same town where I lived... and NONE of my friends know/knew the MC. (He made great blog fodder, who needed to talk about clients?) In my new position, in this community, if I named my employer and/or told stories about my clients, I would risk exposing the private information entrusted to me. I can't do that.
Counselors also have strive to keep the sessions and the relationship focused on the client, not on the counselor. Self-disclosure can have value, but only if it enhances the client's understanding. If the disclosure does not serve a definite purpose, it should be avoided. I am in the helping relationship to provide a service to the client, not to make a friend or be a friend; not to serve my own interests or open up my life for comparative scrutiny. My clients don't need to concern themselves with the happenings in my life.
A little over a year ago, someone Googled some basic information about me and found this blog. With the above principles in mind, I went through and removed as much identifying information as I could. While my blog is open to the public, it's not as widely read as I had hoped it would be. For my purposes as a counselor, this is good news. The odds that one of my clients would stumble upon my blog are fairly slim. I need to keep it that way as much as I can.
So, I won't be talking about work, much. If I can tell you a story and keep the other interests securely protected, I might, but I just don't envision that happening. Unless, I get an oddly fascinating and amusing co-worker.
Maybe I should see if the MC wants to come work at this new place, too.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
I Got My Chance, and I Said Those Things... Still...
I started a new job yesterday. I'm pleased about it... my first REAL position after grad-school and licensure and all that... I'll share more with you about it after I get more settled.
This morning I drove down to our B-burg office. The weather was beautiful on that twisty little trail, with the sun peeking though the trees. I drove that road fairly often in the "before" days, before I left sales, before I lost my drive to sell, before the whole world changed. I smiled, remembering.
Then, this song came through the radio. Actually a pretty good driving/singing song:
I love this song. I sang along.
Then I remembered: I could never get through it without tears. I've tried four times today... still can't.
I don't know when the song actually came out. I first took note of it about 6 months after Deat's death.
Did I say...
It isn't even appropriate; I've always been comforted in knowing we had nothing left unsaid.
Maybe its the futility of those words now. Did I say... Maybe it's that I'll never get to say them to him again... Did I say... though when I hear them in the song they're just as true now as they ever were.
Did I say...
I certainly didn't expect the song to impact me that way, today. It's been almost five years.
Maybe for all my bravado about starting to date, part of me still scowls, and sees futility in that: I know what combination of traits once brought me joy and met my needs, is it possible that different one could even begin to come close?
I don't know. Hiding out at home hasn't done much for me. We'll see.
But I sure do miss the one I had.
Perhaps I just needed to know, or just say out loud, that I always will.
This morning I drove down to our B-burg office. The weather was beautiful on that twisty little trail, with the sun peeking though the trees. I drove that road fairly often in the "before" days, before I left sales, before I lost my drive to sell, before the whole world changed. I smiled, remembering.
Then, this song came through the radio. Actually a pretty good driving/singing song:
Stop reading, just listen a minute, please.
I love this song. I sang along.
Then I remembered: I could never get through it without tears. I've tried four times today... still can't.
I don't know when the song actually came out. I first took note of it about 6 months after Deat's death.
Did I say...
It isn't even appropriate; I've always been comforted in knowing we had nothing left unsaid.
Maybe its the futility of those words now. Did I say... Maybe it's that I'll never get to say them to him again... Did I say... though when I hear them in the song they're just as true now as they ever were.
Did I say...
I certainly didn't expect the song to impact me that way, today. It's been almost five years.
Maybe for all my bravado about starting to date, part of me still scowls, and sees futility in that: I know what combination of traits once brought me joy and met my needs, is it possible that different one could even begin to come close?
I don't know. Hiding out at home hasn't done much for me. We'll see.
But I sure do miss the one I had.
Perhaps I just needed to know, or just say out loud, that I always will.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Don't Let the Pigeon...
What is it about the mildly obscure reference that makes it so much more amusing? You know the jokes I mean, the ones that make you laugh, not only because of the humor behind them, but because of the feeling that you're one of only a certain group who will truly "get" the joke.
I used to think there was a bit of elitism to it, "I'm one of this group, you're not, ha ha," but as I get older, I believe it's not the EX-clusion of others, but the IN-clusion of the group that makes it all the more fun.
These references take on two similar, yet different, forms: the popular/public culture form, and the "I get it because I was there" form.
(Aside, to Miss J., as promised, lots and lots of pictures)
These references take on two similar, yet different, forms: the popular/public culture form, and the "I get it because I was there" form.
We turned off the cable TV around here years ago, so, with a little help from Amazon, I only recently learned how to properly use "Bazinga" in a sentence. Luckily, a few years ago memes came along: they were quick, funny, and offered me some inclusion despite my busy schedule: parenthood and illness just didn't allow me to stay informed: Ain't nobody got time for that! (sorry, had to be done... Harold, Heather, there's your shout-out.)
Also, parenthood offers it's own culture. For example, I know who this guy is:
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| Do you know this guy? No? Well you can go look him up, just like I have to do, on the actual, "hip" pop culture references... Wait! Are things "hip," "cool," "boss," or something else, nowadays? |
He's more important later...
Your References
Anyway, the "I get it because I was there" kind... I try to give that to you guys. I make internal references and link to them... old posts, people, etc. I keep hoping this will inspire a cult following. It hasn't worked so much for me, but, from my stat counters I can tell that the MC (see labels on the right) had his own fan club for a time there.
I also notice my life sometimes runs in themes, so I try to share and label those for you, too. See how good I am to you people? Today, I'm even, once again, putting the laundry off for you!
You may have noticed, (no you didn't, who am I kidding?) that the newest label added to the group is "Pets and Animal Oddities". You may have believed that label originated in the recent Pre-Teen Titan or Hedgehog Harassment posts. (Oh dear God, somebody stop me I'm obsessed with linking!)
Actually, the theme began a couple months ago with her:
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| You have to imagine her smaller and much scrawnier. |
The Cat and The Cookies
This little creature started hanging out on my back porch in late November. I got tired of tripping over Sophie the Wonder Dog's food bowls, so I told the girls that we'd have to leave Sophie's food outside... which above creature took as an invitation to partake. I really didn't mind, she was so skinny, if she needed to eat, let her. I was sure Sophie would run her off, soon. Taking a note from B.B.'s reading homework, we started referring to her as Amelia Bedelia.
Why did you have to be there? On the second Sunday in December every year, we host our annual Cookie Party... an all-day affair. While once small, the Cookie Party now includes invites to all the theatre babies and their families, resulting in some 50 or so of our friends, adults and children, over the course of the day. We spend the early afternoon cutting out, baking and decorating cookies until the kids get bored (somewhere during the second batch) then spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out, chatting, kids playing, until early evening when we order pizzas for whomever is left. (This year we needed 8 pizzas.)
The house is full; the atmosphere is insane. It's my very favorite day of the year!
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| This is actually from one of the tamer parties from years past. You get the idea... |
Every year some private jokes emerge that last a month or two, some endure. Travis will never live down burning out my mixer one year. This year produced the Jonathan Action Figure, "This is Danny and He's a Free Agent." and The Cat That Invaded.
See how sweet and timid that little face above looks? Not so. Every time the back door opened, she was trying to get in.
"Kelly, is your cat allowed in?"
"No, catch her, that's not my cat."
"Kelly, where did you get that pretty cat on the porch?"
"I don't know, that's not my cat. She just likes to hang out here."
"Why does B.B. call her 'Amelia'?"
"Uh, because that's what, I, uh, named her."
Knowing look and nod. (I hate those!)
Around late afternoon, despite SIX people sitting around the kitchen table, she managed to GET ON TOP of said table and sample a little bit of the frosting from several bowls and the tops of several cookies remaining there. Heather spotted her, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and with definite prejudice, unceremoniously dumped her out the door.
"Kelly, your cat ruined all the leftovers."
"THAT'S NOT MY CAT!"
"Somebody needs to tell her that."
In the following weeks I got several queries as to how the "cat that was not mine" was doing. Har de har har.
At Christmas break, as we were leaving to go visit family, I warned the girls that she would likely be gone upon our return. Sophie would be traveling with us, and Sophie's absence would also mean the absence of Sophie's food; I told the girls I felt sure the cat would find another family, though. After all, she was agreeable and started purring the second a person picked her up... who wouldn't love her? I mean, I could manage not to love her... but others would fall prey to those sweet little, precious little charms... AHEM!
When we returned, I had to issue a Facebook release and eat my words:
Just in case anyone missed Miss G.'s contribution to the thread... see below.
Sigh. God (with Miss G.'s help) decided we needed a cat.
The Fish
And with that little inch came the Hedgehog mile. I told P.D. a couple days ago that if she could save up and pay for it, along with all the supplies, she could have her beloved hedgehog.
I forgot that Miss B.B. saves all her birthday money and had quite a stash in place. Enough to get a whole fish starter tank going. Enough that, in the interest of fairness, we tromped out to Walmart last night to get supplies to get the aquarium started and will be tromping out tonight to get the fish to live in it.
B.B. initially wanted to put the fish in her room, but I put the kibosh on that. (Since I'm obviously so good at setting limits around here.) She complained, how would anyone know that they were HER fish?
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| Problem Solved! |
The Joke's on Who?
It would seem the girls are fairly innocent in all this, wouldn't it? It would seem all these additions are happy accidents; who knew Danny and Miss G. would turn out to be such great allies? It might even seem that they don't realize the distress I would naturally feel at going from merely Sophie the Wonder Dog, to a soon-to-be-four-animal household.
Here's where you kind of have to be a parent and kind of have to be "in-on" the joke. As my girls, B.B. in particular, apparently are, and have been, "in-on" this joke the whole time.
Yesterday, B.B. brought home her "Don't Let the Pigeon" assignment from her first grade class.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Hedgehog Harassment
Today's post is something new to JKH, a Facebook-Text Message-Drawing media extravaganza, with very little actual writing on my part.
Warning: this post will be difficult to view on a phone.
Warning: this post will be difficult to view on a phone.
It started innocently enough...
Thursday January 10
Mode: Facebook
Friday & Saturday, January 11 & 12
Filly can attest, I got numerous harassing texts on Friday... mostly referring to a hedgehog as a "little precious" à la Gollum. (Important later) Saturday was so crazy I don't think either of the Hedgehog team was on task.
Sunday, January 13
Mode: Facebook
The actual video is below... and yeah, the little sucker IS indescribably cute. (be strong, be strong...)
Monday, January 14
Mode: Text
And on Facebook:
She's either gonna be a salesperson, a lawyer or a carnival barker...
Tuesday, January 15
Mode: Text Messaging
(For reference, see "Pre-Teen Titan")
Mode: HOMEWORK?
And fnally, the pièce de résistance also happened to fall in the correct order chronologically. P.D. brought home her most recent English assignment yesterday evening, an illustrated poem.
Haiku de Hedgehog
Cold Hedgehog in sock
Hiding, waiting for snow's end
Shivering, sleepy
Sunday, January 13, 2013
That Just Ain't Right
More catch ups to do for my regular readers... luckily, for readers/friends who already know these "catch up" stories, I may or may not have some new stuff to tie it up in.
b.) Still be so paralyzed by grief I wouldn't get out at all, or ever again. (the idea of the "b." option usually coincided with "One of Those Nights".)
I said "I rest my case"
George: EXACTLY
wait...
wait...
How old are you?
At this point, I realize what's going on, and I nearly swallow my non-nicotine, but, up until that point in the conversation, relatively-comforting, gum.
Info from George: His name is Danny and he lives RIGHT HERE NEAR ME... He's a great guy... He doesn't have kids but he's great with kids... He's a Great Guy... He's younger than me... He's a GREAT GUY... She used to date him but the distance was just too much so now they're just good friends... HE'S A GREAT GUY...
George: Girl, I called him, I'm on the phone with him right now.
I coughed so hard I spit my non-nicotine and not-even-a-little-comforting-anymore gum across the room.
After some more back-and-forth with George, he and I "friended" one another on Facebook and had a short instant-message (IM) conversation... mostly about the stuff we were seeing on one another's pages.
The following day (a Friday) at about 6, Danny said hello again via IM. After a few minutes, he suggested we meet.
Danny: Are you free later? Maybe for a game of pool? Tho, I'm sure you will win lol
Nothing major.....just to hang out for a few... if you don't wanna, I understand. No pressure.
Back when I started this blog, I imagined that by this far out, (almost 5 years), I would either:
a.) Be so entrenched in new-life stuff, the significance of my widowhood would be a faint memory orb.) Still be so paralyzed by grief I wouldn't get out at all, or ever again. (the idea of the "b." option usually coincided with "One of Those Nights".)
Neither extreme is true. Deat's death, but moreso, his LIFE, still colors my perspective in a myriad of ways. That's okay, both for my life and within the context of this blog. I still hold out the hope that if another widow or widower reads this blog, she or he might find comfort in the kinship of experience. Fewer posts are based around issues of widowhood, but that's okay. It shows that life does go on.
All that said, time to do a catch up and broach a significant topic in widowhood:
I WENT OUT ON A DATE!
(Err... at least I thought I did). Let me back up and explain.
I WENT OUT ON A DATE!
(Err... at least I thought I did). Let me back up and explain.
One of the blessings Deat left me was his friends: not only the ones I knew well but the ones I didn't know at all. One of the latter was a lady from his college days named Georganna. She and I have yet to lay eyes on one another. We "met" on Facebook and through our mutual love for Deat, just kinda "adopted" one another. She's kind, generous with her time and resources, and fantastically funny.
Back at the beginning of November, George and I were Facebook chatting about the dating scene and how our married friends wanted to see each of us attached to a good man... without considering the lack of acceptable, eligible men asking us out...
Me: LOL! Some of my friends were lecturing me on how I need to date.
I asked them if they knew anyone they liked well enough to set me up with, they said no...
I asked them if they knew anyone they liked well enough to set me up with, they said no...
I said "I rest my case"
George: EXACTLY
wait...
wait...
How old are you?
At this point, I realize what's going on, and I nearly swallow my non-nicotine, but, up until that point in the conversation, relatively-comforting, gum.
Info from George: His name is Danny and he lives RIGHT HERE NEAR ME... He's a great guy... He doesn't have kids but he's great with kids... He's a Great Guy... He's younger than me... He's a GREAT GUY... She used to date him but the distance was just too much so now they're just good friends... HE'S A GREAT GUY...
George: Girl, I called him, I'm on the phone with him right now.
I coughed so hard I spit my non-nicotine and not-even-a-little-comforting-anymore gum across the room.
After some more back-and-forth with George, he and I "friended" one another on Facebook and had a short instant-message (IM) conversation... mostly about the stuff we were seeing on one another's pages.
The following day (a Friday) at about 6, Danny said hello again via IM. After a few minutes, he suggested we meet.
Danny: Are you free later? Maybe for a game of pool? Tho, I'm sure you will win lol
Nothing major.....just to hang out for a few... if you don't wanna, I understand. No pressure.
(Nice, considerate invitation, right?)
Me: Geez, I would love to, but I don't have a babysitter!
(Farther along in the conversation)
Danny: "A" for effort, that was you TRYING to trash talk... When we play, I'll only use half a Q & still win.
Me: In. your. dreams.
Danny: Lol... We'll play 8 ball, I'll spot you 5 balls.... That way I might get a challenge out of you.
Me: (Dialing babysitter)
Danny: See, trash talk
Me: Son, I will roll over you like a Mack Truck
Danny: Awe....I'll roll over alright, roll over n let you win.
Me: Oh, and you ain't gotta spot me a dang thing! Do you KNOW who you're talking to?
The guy barely knew me, but already knew me: if you really want to get me out of the house, get my dander up. We met at the local bowling alley, the only place I could think of with pool tables.
How did it go? Let's just say I didn't use the rack much that night. I considered not telling how it went, to spare Danny any FURTHER embarrassment... but I think it's a good lesson: don't knock my game, dude.
After Danny got tired of getting beat we got tired of playing, he suggested we go eat. By that time, I felt comfortable with him so I left my car at the bowling alley and rode with him. I ate dinner earlier with the girls so I had a milkshake while he ate. (Yes, it was within my Weight Watchers points... well, sort of...).
We talked, and talked, and talked and talked. (He would say I did, but he'd be lying. He helped. A LOT.) I tried not to talk about Deat too much, but Danny seemed completely comfortable even when I did mention him. We talked about how, from experience, I felt that "friends-first" made the best relationships. We talked a lot about faith and trying to follow the Bible... and how those issues come into play when dating. (On the mental list of what I want, a man who loves God, CHECK!)
I really, really enjoyed myself. When we got back to my car, he walked me to it and gave me a hug goodbye.
Whew! Yes, I've been out a few other times since Deat's death... I'd been kissed. But, I'd known 2 of them for about 20 years each and the other one for at least 6 years. The idea of kissing somebody REALLY NEW kinda freaked me out.
A couple nights later, I was back at the bowling alley, playing pool with the girls and some of my theatre babies... Danny sent me a text and I invited him to join us. Again, had a great time. Again, he hugged me bye. Another bullet dodged... but I'm starting to sweat it.
(What if I actually like this guy more than as just an excuse to get out of the house*... What if he likes ME? What if sometime soon he decides he WANTS to kiss me? What do I do, then?)
The following week Danny called and we went to lunch on his day off. We were again talking about relationships and he said that he felt the best move he could make for himself at that time was to stick to just friendships. He said he felt that staying away from romantic relationships was what he needed.
(Wait, did I just get friend-zoned? You mean he DOESN'T want to kiss me? Why the heck not? I'm cute, kinda, sorta, maybe. Well, darn it, I USED to be! If I was him, I'd want to kiss me... SHEESH!)
He was right. (Danny, if you're reading this, don't get used to me saying that. For the most part, everyone knows you just ain't right...) Oh, and he's AWESOME! Just ask him**
We've developed a pretty great little friendship. He's my male perspective with no pressure. I like to think I'm his sounding board, too. If I'm not, well, then he just talks too much. It also frees things up for him to come "hang out" with the girls and me. It's okay that my girls love Danny. I very rarely "break up" with a friend, so they get to keep THEIR friend, too.
(Unfortunately, he and P.D. have joined forces on the hedgehog campaign... but that's another post.)
And finally, I've wondered, if I started dating fairly regularly... do I have to write about each and every one I go out with? Not now, I don't.
Danny is a pretty entertaining all by himself, and I already got his permission to talk about him in the blog. He'll keep ya'll amused enough that I may or may not tell you about Donny (yes, I used their real names. I can't make this stuff up).
'Cause kissing (OR not kissing) and telling, well that just ain't right.
I really, really enjoyed myself. When we got back to my car, he walked me to it and gave me a hug goodbye.
Whew! Yes, I've been out a few other times since Deat's death... I'd been kissed. But, I'd known 2 of them for about 20 years each and the other one for at least 6 years. The idea of kissing somebody REALLY NEW kinda freaked me out.
A couple nights later, I was back at the bowling alley, playing pool with the girls and some of my theatre babies... Danny sent me a text and I invited him to join us. Again, had a great time. Again, he hugged me bye. Another bullet dodged... but I'm starting to sweat it.
(What if I actually like this guy more than as just an excuse to get out of the house*... What if he likes ME? What if sometime soon he decides he WANTS to kiss me? What do I do, then?)
The following week Danny called and we went to lunch on his day off. We were again talking about relationships and he said that he felt the best move he could make for himself at that time was to stick to just friendships. He said he felt that staying away from romantic relationships was what he needed.
(Wait, did I just get friend-zoned? You mean he DOESN'T want to kiss me? Why the heck not? I'm cute, kinda, sorta, maybe. Well, darn it, I USED to be! If I was him, I'd want to kiss me... SHEESH!)
He was right. (Danny, if you're reading this, don't get used to me saying that. For the most part, everyone knows you just ain't right...) Oh, and he's AWESOME! Just ask him**
We've developed a pretty great little friendship. He's my male perspective with no pressure. I like to think I'm his sounding board, too. If I'm not, well, then he just talks too much. It also frees things up for him to come "hang out" with the girls and me. It's okay that my girls love Danny. I very rarely "break up" with a friend, so they get to keep THEIR friend, too.
(Unfortunately, he and P.D. have joined forces on the hedgehog campaign... but that's another post.)
And finally, I've wondered, if I started dating fairly regularly... do I have to write about each and every one I go out with? Not now, I don't.
Danny is a pretty entertaining all by himself, and I already got his permission to talk about him in the blog. He'll keep ya'll amused enough that I may or may not tell you about Donny (yes, I used their real names. I can't make this stuff up).
'Cause kissing (OR not kissing) and telling, well that just ain't right.
* Danny's gonna read this. That's me, trash-talkin'.
** Sarcasm alert
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Pre-teen Titan?
P.D. is a funny kid. If she wants something, she researches it and collects all the facts to decide whether and how much she truly wants it. By the time she presents it to me, she knows her subject inside and out.
She's been pondering unusual pets since before Christmas. For a some time, she wanted a breed of turtle called a Red-eared Slider. She filled me with enough facts and trivia that if someone brought me one, I'd not only recognize it; I could diagnose any ailments it might have.
Recently, her interest has turned to hedgehogs.
Conversation this morning before school:
P.D.: They start hissing and panting to warn you if you handle them too much. If I got a hedgehog I would name him, "Kraken".
Me: Okay, I'll bite, why "Kraken"? I thought you just said hedgehogs weren't very aggressive?"
P.D.: "Because then if one of B.B.'s friends came over and wouldn't put him down, I could say...
(I can totally see that face at 1:28 on P.D. if they didn't listen...)
She's been pondering unusual pets since before Christmas. For a some time, she wanted a breed of turtle called a Red-eared Slider. She filled me with enough facts and trivia that if someone brought me one, I'd not only recognize it; I could diagnose any ailments it might have.
Recently, her interest has turned to hedgehogs.
Conversation this morning before school:
P.D.: They start hissing and panting to warn you if you handle them too much. If I got a hedgehog I would name him, "Kraken".
Me: Okay, I'll bite, why "Kraken"? I thought you just said hedgehogs weren't very aggressive?"
P.D.: "Because then if one of B.B.'s friends came over and wouldn't put him down, I could say...
"RELEASE THE KRAKEN!"
(I can totally see that face at 1:28 on P.D. if they didn't listen...)
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Instant Gratification
Oooh the cobwebs were even worse this time!
Soooo I took a blog sabbatical (Blobatical?) for various reasons, but now I'm back and hopefully will write/post with some consistency for a bit. The source of my return? Well, that started with Kirk*. Kirk became involved with the Treehouse Poets Series (at the Treehouse Cafe and Bakery, thus the name) and it piqued my interest, so in December I grabbed an old poem and went.
(On a side note, on that first night I went outside to talk with some folks and smoked two Marlboro full-flavor menthol cigarettes while chatting. Yeah, I know. Don't worry, it bit me. I ended up having to go to a gas station and throw up... and it still took me another couple hours before I felt well enough to drive back to L-town. Serves me right, I guess...)
Smoking fiasco aside, I had a good time. Everyone I met was very welcoming; I heard some very talented writers speak, and several made kind comments about my poem as well. I decided I'd go back.
As the date for the next poetry night neared, I realized I was either going to need to go dig old notebooks out of storage or get poetry inspiration and write one quickly to have an offering. I remembered that at the previous get together one author read a sample of his fiction instead of poetry, and it occured to me: I have ALL kinds of samples of my writing RIGHT HERE. So I read blog entries.
To introduce the blog and the original theme, I chose to print out and read "Answers" (which, at least, ends on something of an "up" note) and "One of Those Nights" (which, decidedly, does not). As I finished reading and looked out at the now-somber faces in the crowd, I realized I had made some fairly gut-wrenching selections... and I was the last speaker slated. I hated the idea of the night ending on such a sorrowful note. Luckily, Travis found a couple more readers (both excellent).
The one other issue eating at me was the idea of leaving the audience with the impression that I might still be in the dark place from "One of Those Nights." I had noticed several authors reading from their phones, so called up JKH on my phone and raised my hand to read just one more selection: "Dealing with Frustration in a Therapuetically and Nutritionally Sound Manner".
And suddenly, something magical happened... they were laughing... in all the right places!
What. a. Rush.
It was so great, I can't even come up with an appropriately humorous and hyperbolic simile for intoxication to try and illicit the standard appropriately cheap chuckle that should go right here!
Don't get me wrong, I love writing for you people but as I've told you before, I crave your comments, your reactions to what I write. I am now in love with every single person attending the Treehouse Poets Series who offered me those exhilarating morsels of merriment...
Sigh... I believe I'll be "jonesin'" for them until next month!
As I returned to my seat to bask in the joy of the moment, the second part of my motivation for using blog entries happened: someone asked me to repeat my blog address. And someone else. And someone else... And Travis put it on the Treehouse Poets Series Facebook page. I have to write regular posts now, or let them down.
Luckily, I have lots to catch my regular readers (if they come back) up on. I started to do all the catch-ups in one post, but I might need material until the next interesting thing happens... and with all the link jumping, this post is confusing enough!
Thanks Treehouse Poets, you're helping me breathe new life into this old blog!
*Who is Kirk? Kirk is someone better explained after much more alcohol than I plan on ever consuming at one sitting again... :-P
Soooo I took a blog sabbatical (Blobatical?) for various reasons, but now I'm back and hopefully will write/post with some consistency for a bit. The source of my return? Well, that started with Kirk*. Kirk became involved with the Treehouse Poets Series (at the Treehouse Cafe and Bakery, thus the name) and it piqued my interest, so in December I grabbed an old poem and went.
(On a side note, on that first night I went outside to talk with some folks and smoked two Marlboro full-flavor menthol cigarettes while chatting. Yeah, I know. Don't worry, it bit me. I ended up having to go to a gas station and throw up... and it still took me another couple hours before I felt well enough to drive back to L-town. Serves me right, I guess...)
Smoking fiasco aside, I had a good time. Everyone I met was very welcoming; I heard some very talented writers speak, and several made kind comments about my poem as well. I decided I'd go back.
As the date for the next poetry night neared, I realized I was either going to need to go dig old notebooks out of storage or get poetry inspiration and write one quickly to have an offering. I remembered that at the previous get together one author read a sample of his fiction instead of poetry, and it occured to me: I have ALL kinds of samples of my writing RIGHT HERE. So I read blog entries.
 |
| A scene from the Treehouse Poets Series #4. Or, in the interest of offering quality entertainment, "Where's Waldo?" only 1. Without Waldo and 2.With me and 3. I'm not wearing the goofy hat. G'head, click the picture. |
To introduce the blog and the original theme, I chose to print out and read "Answers" (which, at least, ends on something of an "up" note) and "One of Those Nights" (which, decidedly, does not). As I finished reading and looked out at the now-somber faces in the crowd, I realized I had made some fairly gut-wrenching selections... and I was the last speaker slated. I hated the idea of the night ending on such a sorrowful note. Luckily, Travis found a couple more readers (both excellent).
The one other issue eating at me was the idea of leaving the audience with the impression that I might still be in the dark place from "One of Those Nights." I had noticed several authors reading from their phones, so called up JKH on my phone and raised my hand to read just one more selection: "Dealing with Frustration in a Therapuetically and Nutritionally Sound Manner".
And suddenly, something magical happened... they were laughing... in all the right places!
What. a. Rush.
It was so great, I can't even come up with an appropriately humorous and hyperbolic simile for intoxication to try and illicit the standard appropriately cheap chuckle that should go right here!
Don't get me wrong, I love writing for you people but as I've told you before, I crave your comments, your reactions to what I write. I am now in love with every single person attending the Treehouse Poets Series who offered me those exhilarating morsels of merriment...
Sigh... I believe I'll be "jonesin'" for them until next month!
As I returned to my seat to bask in the joy of the moment, the second part of my motivation for using blog entries happened: someone asked me to repeat my blog address. And someone else. And someone else... And Travis put it on the Treehouse Poets Series Facebook page. I have to write regular posts now, or let them down.
Luckily, I have lots to catch my regular readers (if they come back) up on. I started to do all the catch-ups in one post, but I might need material until the next interesting thing happens... and with all the link jumping, this post is confusing enough!
Thanks Treehouse Poets, you're helping me breathe new life into this old blog!
*Who is Kirk? Kirk is someone better explained after much more alcohol than I plan on ever consuming at one sitting again... :-P
Um, No Pressure...
Holy cow holy cow holy cow! I have to type fast, I've just been PUBLICIZED!!!! Longer post coming later today, just got to have SOMETHING current on here!
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
The MC, The Expert
As I've told you before, I ride with the MC to our work-site in
another county on Tuesdays. He has to drive through my town to get to the town
where we work, so it just works out. (The MC’s car and driving habits are a story for
another time… I digress.) During the ride we consult about clients, about our
practice... but sometimes we just talk about our own goofy idiosyncrasies.
I may have mentioned the MC’s gruff nature before.* He's an
admittedly OCD creature of habit and likes everything "just so." I’ll
never forget our second meeting when he made me redo my whole internship application
over a single scratch-out. This time last year, I was still extremely
intimidated. I did much of our early work
together holding my breath, hoping I measured up.
The pressure built and built until one day I blurted out, “Man, I
wish I had a nickel for every time somebody has called you an a-hole! I’d be
stinkin’ RICH!”
He laughed. I laughed. Pressure relieved. He decided he should
author a how-to manual. We even laughed about his “How to be an A-hole”
writing aspirations last night on the way home from work. He thinks they’d be
best-sellers at Cracker Barrel gift shops.
 |
| You, too, can be an A-hole! |
He probably saw enough Cracker Barrels last week on his trip with some
other Vietnam Vets to D.C. for the Rolling Thunder Memorial Day Rally. (Of
course the MC rides a Harley, you expected less?) He arrived to pick me up last
Tuesday morning, bright eyed and bushy-tailed after having ridden 10 hours to
get home on Memorial Day. He pointed out he did this to keep me from having to
smell him if he’d waited and finished the ride home Tuesday morning… how
considerate!
We usually get together (sometimes in my kitchen) on Wednesday
mornings to work on client charts or other projects for our practice. As he was
dropping me off last Tuesday, he said he’d call me in the morning to let me
know if we’d be working. He said he'd been waiting for a part for his tractor to come in at a store here in L-town, so he wanted to save himself a trip and work on whatever day the part arrived at the store; he'd just pick it up while he was already in town.
The girls were gone with their grandparents to Myrtle Beach, so I
enjoyed my leisurely Wednesday morning with my coffee, cereal (measured, Weight
Watchers-style) and Facebook to amuse me while I waited for the MC to get in
touch. I read posts, checked the news, texted with Crystal, thinking the MC
would be calling any minute. He usually does his morning walking routine with
his buddy P.T. (I’m still not saying where…) and calls me immediately after.
I noticed the clock at 9:30. The MC still had not called. Hmm, that’s weird. He always calls before now if we have iffy plans.
At 9:58 I sent him text, “ ? ”
At 10:11 I called. The MC’s cell is also our client line, so he
always answers… but it went almost straight to voice mail. I figured he must be
talking to a client… but then it might be an odd signal glitch so I called again
at 10:15 and left a voicemail… still nothing. I started fretting a little. This wasn't like him.
I called again at 11:11. Again, it went straight to voicemail.
Okay, this is REALLY weird, considering the MC knew my day was on hold until I
heard from him. What if something happened to him? Nobody would think to call
me…
I wondered if maybe he was ignoring me… he will sometimes send a
call to voicemail if he’s really busy, so I texted him again at 11:13 to
express my concern:
“Okay Dude, I really hope you aren’t in the hospital. But YOU better hope you are, because if you AREN’T I will put you there for making me worry…”
Still nothing.
This went against everything I know about the MC. He likes to follow
a routine. He answers the phone. He checks his messages. He doesn’t leave me
hanging.
Could I call someone? The only people I know for certain that he
talks to regularly are his daughter in another state, and two local friends, P.T., and Lee**. I don’t
know his daughter’s number and REALLY wouldn’t want to frighten her since she
lives so far away. I don’t even know P.T. and Lee’s last
names, but I do know where P.T. works and could find him there if I needed to.
I started thinking about the what-ifs. The MC lives alone. He’s only
in his early 60’s and looks to be in pretty good shape. But, he has horrible
eating habits and he’s been complaining about high blood pressure lately. Or he
may have decided he really wanted that tractor fixed, come and picked up the
part and be out working on it… What is he’s hurt, or sick and can’t get up, get
to the phone? What if he’s knocked out or lying in agony? No one would know…
By 11:20 I was in Kermit heading for the MC’s house. While I was
on my way, I tried to call P.T. to see if the MC had shown up for the walk that
morning, but P.T was tied up and couldn’t come to the phone.
I told myself I was just going to make sure the MC’s car was gone
so I’d know he was okay and just not available. Yes, the MC is a very private
person, but I’m just being a good friend, right? Ugh, what if he has (gasp!) a
lady friend he didn’t tell me about and was just hanging out with her at the house? He’d
probably be aggravated at the privacy invasion... Then again, how many stories have I read
or heard where someone thought something was off and did nothing and it ended
in tragedy? Besides, it’s only a 15 minute drive…
The MC has a few acres of property, and his home sits about 50
yards off the road in a wooded area. When I arrived, no surprise, the front gate was
locked. I couldn’t see the carport for the trees… grr. I heard a tractor in the
distance, so I got back in the car and drove around the property to see if maybe he
was mowing. I didn’t see any mowing evidence so I went back. I’m really glad no
one was around to watch me climb the gate, I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.
As I walked closer to the house, I could see both the car and truck
were there. I noticed the mower sticking out of the shed, so I knew he wasn’t
mowing. I went to the back door, rapped on it and waited. Nothing. I strained
to hear… nothing. I decided to walk around front and look in the front windows.
Please don’t let me
see his body on the floor, pleasepleasepleaseplease… I didn’t see anything, but
thought as I walked back around to leave, “I don’t think he’s here, but where
in the world could he be?”
When I came back around I saw it and my heart nearly stopped: The
Harley. He’s here somewhere. I tried his cell one more time, but still didn’t
hear it ring. I noticed my voice was shaking as I left the voicemail.
Okay, I think I’m going to have to find a way in. I tried the
doorknob, hoping I could just stick my head in and yell for him… locked of
course. I yelled his name a couple times hoping he could hear me in the house… nothing. I decided to try P.T. one more time. I might
need P.T. to come help to break into the house. Maybe I'm being ridiculous. I'll just tell P.T. what I know and see what he says. The secretary answered and told me to
hold on.
While I was on hold, I saw the MC’s face appear in a window, sans
shirt, sans glasses and wet hair going everywhere.
I screamed like a girl. A short scream, but still…
I screamed like a girl. A short scream, but still…
The MC opened the door (looking really confused, holding the door knob
in one hand and a towel around his waist with the other) just as P.T. was
answering, so I quickly held up my finger and said told P.T. the original
reason for my call but that it was alright now because I’d found him. P.T. said to give him a hard time since he
hadn’t answered P.T.’s texts either.
So I hung up, looked up and said, “Okay, you’re alive, that’s all I needed
to know. It’s all good. P.T. says you’re a slacker, and I’ll be going now…”
I almost made a break for it, but the MC motioned for me to come in and told me to wait while he went
back through the house to get dressed. Apparently, the phone got turned off
somehow and he was so exhausted from the trip he slept late that morning. He
said he thought he heard somebody knocking while he was in the shower so he
came to check it out when he got out.
We ended up going to lunch. He promised me he’d delete the
voicemail without listening, but cracked up at the text message. I am forbidden from trying to check on him like that again...
This Wednesday morning, (today) my phone rang at 9 a.m.
The MC: I was just calling to assure you that I
am alive and well and you have no reason to drive to my town today…
Me: Ya know, you really are the perfect
person to write that How-to manual…
*sarcasm alert
** not their real names
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
Turn and face the strain... (ch-ch-changes...)
Yeah, I know, REALLY original title huh? I actually think one of my other blogger friends used this title before me. There could be two. Then again, a million monkeys on a million typewriters for a million years could also produce my blog... if there's a really warped one in the bunch.
As you can see, it's now been 1 year, 4 weeks, 21 hours, 55 minutes and 35 seconds since I quit smoking... (more or less, who keeps track of these things, really? snicker) So, this post is four weeks late. And, truth be told, I've only been off the nicotine gum for a little over two months... (I have to say some self-deprecating stuff before I start bragging some more, right?)
Giving up cigarettes and nicotine altogether has been very liberating for me, boosting my self-confidence in all the right places. Do I miss smoking? Every dang day, if only for a minute or two... some days more than others. It gets easier every time I find something in the house that still bears that tale-tell smell: a smoker lived here. I don't find them as often now... but I do find them.
So, at one year in, I feel pretty confident that my habit is kicked. Recognizing that change helped me feel empowered to start so working on a another change, so about a month ago I added a new computer gizmo to answer to:
My weight has been out of control for some time... and while I lost the cigarettes in the last year, I gained TWENTY-FIVE more pounds. (Ahem!) Before, I always told myself that Weight Watchers was too expensive. After looking at all the money I was saving by not buying cigarettes on the other gizmo, (over $200 a month) I figured I deserved to treat myself to the expense of this one. (Less than $45 per month, and that includes the cost of the meetings!)
First, there's my superficial reason: many of The Ladies are already doing weight loss/health conscious programs. Tina's lost around 70 pounds, Sabrina's lost over 50, Crystal (my WW compadre!) has lost over 25... I'd be danged if I wanted to be the last fat girl standing! (Not to mention, the pics from our Derby party of me were atrocious. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a fat girl, but by gum that camera sure as heck sees her!) Besides, Heather, Tina, Pennie and Michelle have all been known to run 5Ks! I am determined to waddle behind them for some of those races this year. Who knows, maybe next year I can run them, too.
For a long time I had been telling myself I should be able to manage my weight on my own, that I should be able to just do it by myself and I didn't need guidance. It's kind of hard (not to mention hypocritical) to hold onto that belief after working as drug counselor for however-many months. If everyone should be out whipping their demons on their own, what am I getting paid for?
And besides how could I, in good conscience, sit in front of my clients extolling the power of changing thought processes; telling them that if they don't like something in their lives, they have the power to change it, with me sitting there over 100 pounds overweight? (Yes, you read that right, one hundred. I've been fortunate that until this last 25-30, I've always carried it well)
Another reason I chose Weight Watchers is their gradual process of weight loss. I am expecting the actual weight loss to take 1 1/2 to 2 years. As I tell my clients, lifestyle changes don't happen overnight. There's a slow process including education and retraining the brain involved. I don't want this to be a diet, I want to change the way I view food and the way I take care of myself. Not to mention the ways my daughters view food and take care of themselves. One of the MANY things I want to leave as a legacy to my girls is a healthy lifestyle. Hopefully we're on our way.
How does this fit in with the "New Life" tag?
When Deat died, when I started this blog, I still felt so vulnerable, perhaps even weak. I felt cheated, and scared of all the changes that came with losing the person I loved most in the world, the person I looked to before I made any major decision. I've often said change is my confirmation of God's sense of humor: He designed us to hate change and then gave us change as the primary constant in our lives.
However, change has been a tool I used to regain my power, my footing in the last 2 1/2 years. A couple of weeks ago, I received my Masters' diploma. I completely changed careers; changed cars; changed health habits; changed the way I view L-town and possibilities that exist here. With each change, I grew a little stronger.
Perhaps that's the difference between the changes we choose and those that "just happen" in our lives. The changes I didn't choose seemed to sap my strength, then the ones I made returned it.
"Look what I did!"
Still, before I go crazy thumping myself on the back, I have to look at each change and mention that I see God's hand in the opportunities presented me, the situations coming together "just so" to facilitate the moves I made... one right after the other, one answered prayer after another. I felt empowered taking the wheel, but obviously, I didn't do ALL of the steering.
So, finally, I thank God for all of it, especially providing a workplace where I can share this part, His part, of the change process, too.
Yeah, I know, REALLY original title huh? I actually think one of my other blogger friends used this title before me. There could be two. Then again, a million monkeys on a million typewriters for a million years could also produce my blog... if there's a really warped one in the bunch.
 |
| Click to enlarge |
As you can see, it's now been 1 year, 4 weeks, 21 hours, 55 minutes and 35 seconds since I quit smoking... (more or less, who keeps track of these things, really? snicker) So, this post is four weeks late. And, truth be told, I've only been off the nicotine gum for a little over two months... (I have to say some self-deprecating stuff before I start bragging some more, right?)
Giving up cigarettes and nicotine altogether has been very liberating for me, boosting my self-confidence in all the right places. Do I miss smoking? Every dang day, if only for a minute or two... some days more than others. It gets easier every time I find something in the house that still bears that tale-tell smell: a smoker lived here. I don't find them as often now... but I do find them.
So, at one year in, I feel pretty confident that my habit is kicked. Recognizing that change helped me feel empowered to start so working on a another change, so about a month ago I added a new computer gizmo to answer to:
 |
| Click to enlarge Pretty neat, huh? |
My weight has been out of control for some time... and while I lost the cigarettes in the last year, I gained TWENTY-FIVE more pounds. (Ahem!) Before, I always told myself that Weight Watchers was too expensive. After looking at all the money I was saving by not buying cigarettes on the other gizmo, (over $200 a month) I figured I deserved to treat myself to the expense of this one. (Less than $45 per month, and that includes the cost of the meetings!)
First, there's my superficial reason: many of The Ladies are already doing weight loss/health conscious programs. Tina's lost around 70 pounds, Sabrina's lost over 50, Crystal (my WW compadre!) has lost over 25... I'd be danged if I wanted to be the last fat girl standing! (Not to mention, the pics from our Derby party of me were atrocious. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a fat girl, but by gum that camera sure as heck sees her!) Besides, Heather, Tina, Pennie and Michelle have all been known to run 5Ks! I am determined to waddle behind them for some of those races this year. Who knows, maybe next year I can run them, too.
For a long time I had been telling myself I should be able to manage my weight on my own, that I should be able to just do it by myself and I didn't need guidance. It's kind of hard (not to mention hypocritical) to hold onto that belief after working as drug counselor for however-many months. If everyone should be out whipping their demons on their own, what am I getting paid for?
And besides how could I, in good conscience, sit in front of my clients extolling the power of changing thought processes; telling them that if they don't like something in their lives, they have the power to change it, with me sitting there over 100 pounds overweight? (Yes, you read that right, one hundred. I've been fortunate that until this last 25-30, I've always carried it well)
Another reason I chose Weight Watchers is their gradual process of weight loss. I am expecting the actual weight loss to take 1 1/2 to 2 years. As I tell my clients, lifestyle changes don't happen overnight. There's a slow process including education and retraining the brain involved. I don't want this to be a diet, I want to change the way I view food and the way I take care of myself. Not to mention the ways my daughters view food and take care of themselves. One of the MANY things I want to leave as a legacy to my girls is a healthy lifestyle. Hopefully we're on our way.
How does this fit in with the "New Life" tag?
When Deat died, when I started this blog, I still felt so vulnerable, perhaps even weak. I felt cheated, and scared of all the changes that came with losing the person I loved most in the world, the person I looked to before I made any major decision. I've often said change is my confirmation of God's sense of humor: He designed us to hate change and then gave us change as the primary constant in our lives.
However, change has been a tool I used to regain my power, my footing in the last 2 1/2 years. A couple of weeks ago, I received my Masters' diploma. I completely changed careers; changed cars; changed health habits; changed the way I view L-town and possibilities that exist here. With each change, I grew a little stronger.
Perhaps that's the difference between the changes we choose and those that "just happen" in our lives. The changes I didn't choose seemed to sap my strength, then the ones I made returned it.
"Look what I did!"
Still, before I go crazy thumping myself on the back, I have to look at each change and mention that I see God's hand in the opportunities presented me, the situations coming together "just so" to facilitate the moves I made... one right after the other, one answered prayer after another. I felt empowered taking the wheel, but obviously, I didn't do ALL of the steering.
So, finally, I thank God for all of it, especially providing a workplace where I can share this part, His part, of the change process, too.
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