July 27, 2010
Reminders, ME Newsletter, Vol. 3, Issue 30
I feel I am fighting a losing battle with the boxes.
Every item is a memory, and needs to be put in exactly the right permanent place.
But each place touches the other and like a domino effect I find myself saying, “If I put this here, I can put that there, but then those other things will have to move.” And I stand there holding whatever it is, turning circles in my mind, stationery, stuck to the freshly cleaned carpet, embedding foot prints I know will need to be brushed away later.
16 hours = 8 unpacked boxes. Did it take me this long to pack? I don't remember.... Isn’t that odd? I can’t touch the last few weeks in my memory. Too much concentration or too much autopilot sail-thru don’t-stop-to-think?
I can’t find a permanent place for anything, so I wander until I find a cabinet, or shelf, or closet; anywhere I can lose that piece of the puzzle for a while. I’m becoming uncomfortable; nothing seems right or organized or anything like I had imagined.
I’m relieved to find a box of books. That’s a simple task with only two possibilities. There are only two book shelves; one in the office, one in the dining room. So, I start in quickly but am sidetracked by subjects. Reminders jump out at me from bold, solid spines.
My grandfather’s Festival of Prayers in Hebrew, the Holy Bible in Hebrew and English, the NIV New Message Parallel Bible, The Philosophy of House (yes, the TV show), Inspirational Thoughts for each Day of the Year, Your Best Life Now, The Unusual Suspect, A Cherokee Feast of Days, The Yoga of Sound, Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers, Givers Gain, What Happy People Know….
Title reminders re-point out to me what my distraction had overlooked; where I’ve been and where I want to go.
GOD does not want us to suffer over things or where to place them, or at all.
So, it seems I’ve at least found a place for this reminder: I open my heart to temporary because that is all there is for now.
In this issue: Reminder, Triggers, Alan Alda, The Importance of Setting Medium-Term Goals part 1
Now posted: New Orleans, October 2009, Reunion
July 20, 2010
Facebook Gems June 2010
Packing, packing, packing. I just keep on packing, raw... fingertips. Really, people! Who packs with their ykw?
Ugh. So decreasing the font size enabled me to see and use the "share" button in Cafe World. However no amount of font changing is helping that fact that I now cannot see my cafe. Cranky meter just hit 11. Any ideas... besides quit and get a life?
I've discovered an awful truth: I'm too old to have electric blue hair and too young to have blue-grey hair. What to do?
If it's normally not my gig, but has somehow landed in my lap anyway, I feel completely justified referring to the situation as a major gig-a-bite.
Comfy walking shoes? Check. Shorts & Tees? Check. Bathing suit? Check. Jammies? Check. Elbow supports for repetitive wine glass lifiting? Check!
Strong gives way to overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed gives way to over-tired. Tomorrow strong will return. Maybe.
Panic joined the party and attempted to drag Strong back into the "I've got things to do - get out of my way!" fray. Worked for a while. Now over-tired is talking again...
12:30. Tagged. Tired. Tomorrow... oops.. today... tag sale. Two days. Toodles! (punchy?)
Half the house is gone. I'm a bit gone now, too. So much empty space. Inside and inside.
Yardstick, ME Newsletter, Vol. 3, Issue 29
I wanted to do it all at once, and have it all done.
Neither one of those things happened on the first scheduled moving day, or the second.
In the very last load of belongings, I transported three yardsticks - one each: wood, metal and plastic. I had already giving away quite a few, uncertain why I had so many to begin with.
I’m tempted to judge myself harshly according to the plans I mapped out. The yardstick I am holding myself up against measures my own impatience with transition. I am annoyed that my plans are no longer accurate because I have more space than I imagined for furniture and less space than I imagined for storage. Yes, I measured, and re-measured, and even had help measuring.
It’s my imaginative spatial judgment that’s lacking, not the figures. Designed by generalization; frustrated by reality. Torn between seizing the day or systematically destroying my boxed-in numerically labeled mess, I take the first option and concede a new yardstick is order.
Recognizing that longer-for-the-moment daylight hours and an amusingly short Green Wave commute will help move the settling process along on rainy days, I am busy enjoying seasonal amenities like sunshine and a pool at the moment. Maybe by Labor Day, I will be box-less, and ready for routine.
Maybe then, I’ll pull out that expectation yardstick again, and measure my successes.
Followed, most likely, by measuring up new challenges…
Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will succeed. Isaiah 30:18
In this issue: Setting Expectations, Mental & Physical Expectations, Yardsticks, and Green Wave.
Now posted: New Orleans, October 2009, Trippy
July 15, 2010
Candy Shake Up
Dear Food Researchers and Marketing Geniuses:
If you're gonna put candy pieces in a frozen beverage, you'd best make sure them broke up bits of expected goodness fit through the straw-er you're providin'... otherwisen could make some peoples cranky. Or crankier. Just sayin'.
July 13, 2010
Follow Up Wishing, ME Newsletter, Vol. 3, Issue 28
I am not amazing or strong or brave. I am trying to accept my current circumstances by approaching them from a different view. I don’t know how this is going to be or turn out.
I’m not about to predict how long any of my changes will last, although I am completely emptied of future plans, and very content with the ones I have made for now.
I am not even going to try to live up to the lovingly offered and hopeful expectations others have for my new life. I just want to improve a little on the amount of free time, spiritual time, sleep time I have been running low on for years.
I want to open my eyes each morning in the next few weeks blessedly realizing that at last something has changed, and thank GOD for the new perspective.
I’m not going to say goodbye to anyone because I am still right here, accessible and open to two-way communication, anytime, all the time.
I am going to ease myself into my surroundings, let practicality decide which adjustments I will make because I need to and which ones I will make because I simply want to.
I am going to say “not now” when I don’t feel like I can, and “absolutely” when I am able; to everything and everyone, equally.
I am going to try and give myself more patience than I show to others; and step off my own toes when I realize I am being unfair to myself, about anything.
I am going to embrace my environments; take advantage of amenities, explore all opportunities.
I am going to be learning from others and GOD, and listening more intensely to others and GOD.
I am going to follow up wishing with prayers and positive actions, and being more open to them coming true.
I am going, and I am going to be.
In this issue: Tacking Inspiration
Now posted: New Orleans, October 2009, Follow Up Wishing
July 06, 2010
Tensile, ME Newsletter, Vol. 3, Issue 27
This morning, on what I am so looking forward to as my soon to be nearly non-existent commute, it occurred to me that I am running out of patience.
Lack of patience on my part can usually be correlated to a lack of strength within me. Gauging my ultimate tensile strength, I doubt my ability to resist the extreme opposite forces threatening to tear me apart.
Everyone and everything has a tensile strength. Strength is determined by the composure of materials used, the processing methods, treatment, and life-time exposure. A cabinet made of steel is harder to crush than a cabinet of aluminum… in most circumstances. But suppose the steels in just mils deep, and the aluminum is a foot thick? When you think of it that way, it’s not so much what we are made of which matters. It is how many layers our lives have.
Just one piece of GOD’s immense fabric of life, I have been resisting with all my might.
Reluctant to tear away from the garment I’ve over and over re-fashioned from former pieces of myself.
Pieces of the plain bolted cloth from which I was made, pieces I have desperately held onto, now torn-away again.
Diminished until I am but a patch, usable only as part of a larger plan.
A plan I sincerely hope includes recycling my newly reduced sense of self into a brighter quilt-work: attaching me to other smaller weaker pieces, building a more colorful comforting world than any of us could ever achieve alone.
On the surface, held together by common threads.
Strengthened by GOD’s backing.
This is my current fervent prayer, and will be my continual prayer for life.
In this issue: Tensile Strength, Connecting with the World Around You, Power of Choice, Brief History of Quilting
Now posted: New Orleans, October 2009, Welcome Back