In The Tunnel

boxes packed
stacked ready
odds and ends
dust collecting
things forgotten
gathered, scattered
through the years
no longer matter
letting go
of life together


Moving On a.k.a. Free To Be

Ah, to be young and resilient. Or maybe I did a better parenting job than I am giving myself credit for. Everygirl has decided to break from the flip-side of femininity, i.e. boys, to hang with her BFFs more thus increasing her curfew again. I'm elated while soaking in the ironic rays of my parental influence which were, in part, influenced by the most irresponsible of sources --> my dad. For those just stepping into my world, my dad was mostly absent during my teen years. He would show up every now and then to fine-tune the dysfunction between my mother and him then tithe towards more freedom by handing over some crazy story of nomadic work while handing over part of his paycheck. My mother never really believed the stories but with five children to raise on an 8th grade education, I figured she would rather listen to his woes of work than create her own. She was permissive by nature. My lack of a curfew is a good example. This was one of many points of distention between my parents. But my dad was hardly there to enforce any rules. Out of respect for my mother, I never abused this freedom though my friends did. I discovered one night that I was the smoke screen when two sets of parents ended up at my doorstep at 2 in the morning insisting 'all' of us were with a group of boys drinking. My mother came in and woke me up wondering if I had seen my friends. I said I had not and went back to bed pissed that I'd not been invited.

Anyway, back to my parental influence, at one point in my life I was madly infatuated with a young man five years my senior. I was a sophomore in high school. The liaison was illegal. Of course, nothing illegal was going down because I said I was in infatuated not in love but my dad being hardwired for romance in all forms including illicit was not buying that and dropped rather unexpectedly into my timeline to lay down the law. If you continue to date that young (I can still hear the sarcasm) man than your curfew will be 9:00 p.m.. I looked at my mother pleading and I remember her just nodding. I knew her non-word was better than anything he could verbally offer up. So, I ended the 'could have been' romance of my life for my freedom...and, in terms of possible jail time, the young man's, too.

I'm embracing the whole notion if you're offered something, anything, and the alternative is your freedom, you always choose your freedom. Eventually, my dad would fall completely out of the picture and my mother would move into her freedom by default. There is not a person, place or thing in this world that would ever entice her to give it up. Over a long period of time, I'd been offered, over and over again, the opportunity to conform into someone I am not. Failing so miserably, I've finally embraced the alternative. It was a clear decision. No default, no one's fault. When it is all said and done, I doubt that I will ever choose anything again that will not honor my autonomy...that or my time with the BFFs.



I've been dealing with a broken heart -- my daughter's. And a broken heart in high school is the most painful kind of devastation because lost love plays out on a stage whose audience, at best, is wired for satire.

She came to me and in her voice I heard a deep disconnection with any good thing in this world when she whispered: Oh, Mom...

That sound made me ache.

I know I'm shattering the first rule of blogging: Don't embarrass your children. But my character will remain nameless. She is Everygirl (who has ever felt in love with someone that only judged them on their externalness). I didn't experience this with my oldest daughter who fell in love with her best friend half a decade ago and is still discovering the delights of that friendship. She was a bookworm. A thinker who never jumps into anything without first mulling it over. But my Everygirl just spontaneously jumps into life.

This was her first 'real' relationship. The one that included permission to car date and a curfew much earlier than was permitted when she spent time with her girlfriends. Yes, it was my poor attempt to condition her behavior towards hanging with the BFFs more but, alas, I'm up against endorphins.

Luckily, it had not progressed anywhere near a serious relationship just young love gone wrong. When I asked exactly what that wrong was, she said he'd said she wasn't what he thought she'd be. There it was...the false expectation of another. She had even fallen prey to the knee-jerk response: What can I do? Translated: I'm willing to change. When she told me that I offered up appreciation for each and every moment of my life. And though I want her to live her own life and life experiences, I had a few of my own to share with her. With the most important being, I was learning how priceless we are 'as is'. I also knew it was possible for her to find that best friend waiting for her to fall into the delights of their friendship. So, after two nights of curling up with her and a rather large box of Kleenex, we purged him. And we blessed him. And we set our sights on prom.

But that would require a slightly older boy.

Yikes, more drama.


What Would I Be?

If I were...
If I were a month, I’d be September.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Sunday.
If I were a time of day, I’d be sunrise.

If I were a planet, I’d be Earth.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a penguin.
If I were a direction, I’d be West.
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a comfy chair.
If I were a liquid, I’d be water.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be jade.
If I were a tree, I’d be one for picnicking under.
If I were a tool, I’d be a pocket knife.
If I were a flower, I’d be a George Burns rose.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be light rain falling while the sun shines.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a guitar.
If I were a color, I’d be blue.

Blue Man Group Feat Dave Matthews - Sing Along

Amo | MySpace Video

If I were an emotion, I’d be love.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a mango.
If I were a sound, I’d be children laughing.
If I were an element, I’d be Oxygen.
If I were a car, I’d be off-road.
If I were a food, I’d be something healthy.
If I were a place, I’d be a lively cafe.
If I were a material, I’d be silk.
If I were a taste, I’d be delicious. -- just workin' on my self-esteem :)
If I were a scent, I’d be Gucci Eau de Parfum (2002)*
If I were an object, I’d be a camera.
If I were a song, I'd be I Will Survive.

K. That made me giggle.

If I were a body part, I’d be the nape of the neck.
If I were a facial expression, I’d be awe.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be a nice comfortable wedge.

What would you be?

* or a George Burns rose. I can't decide.

UPDATE: I was told I should have put Lotus for flower. I like that people read my blog. :)


My Stream of Consciousness a.k.a.

...to ramble.

Are you ready?

I’m in bed. I’m thinking way too much about how absolutely @#$%& I feel. It is heavy in my vibration. I have tried to write haiku with the best being: Although I am not//my thoughts are constipated//making life crappy. And I tried to work on a couple of other projects I love but there’s no brain power there either. There is no germination of creative thoughts reproducing in my head…only germs. They’re seducing my immune system. Biological perverts. I did get up to make my children breakfast. Yes. I washed my hands. Lunchtime was a free for all and the kitchen looks like a room straight out of Amityville Horror. But I’m not scared. I can hear my dogs barking in the backyard. I want them to chill but I know they sense me through the double doors that lead outside and they are making sure I know they’re doing their job of protecting me from the strange old man checking the meter. He isn’t strange at all, in fact, he’s very nice. We share the easement. His bill had been running high. The city had to come and dig up the ground between our homes to find the source of a water leak. They did. Their fault. Terrible waste of water and that man’s good nature. The city also had to come and cut down a few trees due to power lines. I miss those trees. I told them I didn't think it was necessary to completely cut them down but they did and now the soil is flooded with sunlight and I plan to garden there. It’s an electric co-op.* Everything feels cooperative in this place. I guess I can’t speak of living here without speaking of the places I’ve lived before. I was raised in a small town in the middle of Oklahoma. My parents move away the summer before my senior year of high school leaving me and my sister to live with my best friend’s parents. My sister moved in with me while I was in college and finish high school. It was in college that I met my children’s father who is now becoming my dear friend. When we discovered our first child was on the way, we dropped out of college and move to Kansas to be near my mother. It’s my birthplace. It is also my mother and daughter's which I think is kinda cool. We were there a year. Then we moved up to Washington State. I didn’t want to go. I had a new baby and blood family around me. Something I had missed when they moved away. I wanted to be with my grandmother, in particular. But I followed and would continue to follow and follow my friend's dream. In Washington, it took me 18 months to acclimate to the weather. I went through seasonal depression though I really think I just felt alone. But, once the metaphorical clouds cleared (because the real life ones that hung over the mountains seldom did), I fell in love with the place. As quickly as I came out of it, I began working at the refugee center and met amazing people from all around the world who wanted what my friend wanted: The American Dream. I loved being invited over to their homes for dinner. I loved the gratitude that they would constantly feed me as they intricately wove me as some small thread in achieving their dreams. It was humbling and amazing to watch their transformation into becoming Tom the florist or Alyssa the nail technician. I was always a little sad that they would change their names but looking back I understand it now. It was an expansion of who they were, a shedding of some of the pain of who they were in the stories they told me. The name change was just one step in the many they would take towards their dreams. Writing of them, I am missing them as family. Losing touch, I wonder how they are, where they are and if they know I still think of them. I think of their many children and grandchildren who will never have to walk what were often fearful barefooted paths that lead to America. I think they think of me, once in a great while, which blesses me. Yeah. Wow. K. Moving on. I also worked in group homes for the physically and mentally challenged. Of course, with my son, I consider the term ‘mentally challenged’ to be inaccurate. It’s still physical. Mouth muscles won’t move sequentially due to pre-motor/motor cortex issues. Physical firing of synapses in chaos. Movement, movement, movement in and outside of the body disorganized. I think more in terms of ‘regular’ folk as teachingly challenged. The ways and means of educating this type of intelligence have only recently appeared on radar. I'm not talking about the ins and outs of behavioral manipulation but the hardcore Stephen Hawkings waiting for some attention. There is no homogeneous method. Teaching is that beautiful process of mirroring back to someone the wisdom that lives inside them. But I knew nothing then. I still don’t much now but I've always known they deserved joy. I was in charge of community integration. I was to assimilate my friends into society. I loved the hell out of my job. One was most fond of live music. We were kindred spirits. She had autism and it was very obvious but she was older and had learn to go with the flow of her life so new places and faces did not effect her like some. We were going to grab an early dinner at a local pub and it was open mike. I never would have connected her passion for music if it had not been for the rumble in her stomach that day. It became a staple in her life. We went every Sunday to hear the local talent for a least a good year before I left that position to return to Oklahoma. Last time I heard, she was still going. That was years ago and I think the pub is now a Starbucks or something similar. But I know she knew joy, at least once a week. And I know that whomever was in charge saw that joy would continue, I'm certain. Anyway, I did complete my undergraduate degree before returning to Oklahoma. And the gorgeous babies just kept coming. The only reason I have a graduate degree at all is that the class scheduling worked out better than a full-time job when it came to caring for my children. How good is the Universe? I didn't care if I was in hock for student loans...they helped pay the bills and I was continuing my education and my kids got me more often than plan B would have allowed. Actually, the job was plan A. So my kids got me more often than plan A would have allowed. Man. I'm really rambling. This is kinda fun. You would not believe how often I've had to cough through this whole spiel. The keyboard needs some serious Lysol. Kidding. I don't even own Lysol but I have some concoction that will be more effective anyway. Wait. *cough* See? You couldn't but that was quite an impressive moment of hacking. If you could hear me sing right now, you'd swear I was Louis Armstrong. Well, I guess I'm done rambling for now. I'm no longer in the mood. It's dinnertime. Yikes. The kitchen. Maybe I am scared.


*I stand corrected. It wasn't the city but some other dudes.


The Greatest Valentine's Day Quote in the History of the World

"Don't worry Mom, someday you'll find someone to grow young with." -- My 8 year old.

Life IS Sweet.


Happy Valentine's Day Weekend to...

...my children:

...their father:

...my single girlfriends (This isn't actually from me but on behalf of those poor dudes -- or dudettes* -- you might need to give a little more of your attention to =):


UPDATE: I've been prompted to add two more categories with *one noted above and the other being those in committed relationships (in any way, shape, mix or form). And no, I'm not posting Brenda Lee's I'm Sorry but rather a jolly little tune, so Happy Valentine's Day to...

...my friends committing love on a daily basis:


Faithful Friends

While chatting it up last night with one of my oldest friends, in terms of years of knowing, wrote this to me:

I know you will LOVE what you discover about yourself. We all see it! -- G.Z.

What do they see?

I find myself apologizing. I have not been nice to myself. For a very long time, I've been on a two-way street of misalignment. And I resisted traveling towards any dreams I had beyond what was expected of me by others. I'm learning how very important this elusive thing called Self-Love is. To be your own mirror that allows the reflective force to be the Source within you. To embrace the As Is of you with thoughts of what Will Become brewing in the Now.

I'm getting there.

On another blog, I mentioned that I keep this small 'note to self' on my writing desk: Seek ye first the wisdom of You within.

My little twist on an old standard. Writing it to myself when it was least true in me with the hopes it would become all of me.

So, I think it wise to use this time to offer up love to those of you following me. You don't have to but you chose to. I mentioned to Leah, through a comment in one of the blogs, that I'm writing this for myself. I follow several blogs. I enjoy commenting on the wonderful thoughts and notions people have of themselves and the world. I'm inspired often. I'm catching up on years of quiet thoughts that went unheard because I believed I was not in a place to voice them or that they were not important enough to be heard. Now, here I am. Here, like always, by accident. This blog simply sets an intention and opens a frequency to those even remotely within my wave-range to tune in. In those same comments to Leah, I mentioned how very grateful I was for my three followers. Imagine my delight in now having nine!

You, just hanging around reading here and there, are helping me to clarify what I see in the mirror. Life IS Good...because you're reflected in it.

Love & Blessings & A Big Bear Hug

(I'm totally buying myself that bear for Valentine's Day :)(K...Update: I didn't buy the bear but I did come down with an awful head cold that allowed for some much needed
time...the Universe, my most faithful friend, has given me some serious love. :)!


Best Mommy Category

Behold, an "award" from my daughter inspired by Club Penguin (if you run your cursor over the Yellow penguin you'll see we have much in common) and by this Red Carpet raillery at this year's Grammy night.

She was not about to honor a past request for her version of Ukulele Boy but felt a sketch honoring her Mom was do-able...to my great fortune. She's been drawing since she was 6 months old. That's when she began sitting well. One of her sisters put paper next to her and shoved a crayon in her hand and she never looked back though she did fall over a few times. Her current passion is Toontown characters. She will study their form for hours either by way of playing the game or going to YouTube and selecting certain videos that allow for clarity when paused. I know this only because I've spied on her. She keeps most of her drawing locked away for no one to see. She has allowed me to share a few but, much like her mother, knows a few critics in the outside world have a way of imposing themselves on creativity. But, unlike her mother, she has a great deal more confidence in her ability and voices her need for her "Me" time. She makes time for her passion. After a few chores, of course.


Meet You At Three...

I don't mean to alarm you, but I think you may be in a light hypnotic trance* right now. It's possible that the thrumming hum of your routine has shut down some of your normal alertness, lowering your awareness of certain situations that you really need to tune in to. Let's do something about this! When I count to three, you will hereby snap out of your daze and become fully awake. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3. Now look around you and get yourself more closely in touch with your immediate environment. Make an effort to vividly see and hear and smell everything that's going on. This will have the effect of mobilizing your subconscious mind. Then, for a period of at least five days, you'll have a kind of X-ray vision. -- Rob

*This clip is in honor of my eight year old who, while in diapers, would come to me with anything that would swing and say, "You're getting sleepy" and I would close my eyes and snore a little. Right when she thought I was in my deepest sleep she would get near my face and snort like a pig to "startle" me awake then run off giggling.

Wow...I miss that.