**RANT** Invisible Illnesses

Lord forgive me, but there are times I wish that I had a more visible illness.

You know that look you give someone who whips out their "Handicapped" placard, pulls into a reserved parking spot, then hops out of their car with the agility of Mick Jagger at 20? Sure, you know. THAT look. Well, I used to give people that look. Used to. Not anymore.

Thankfully, I don't need to park in a reserved spot so I never get "the Look". What I get is ignored. Ignored might be something that some disabled people long for, but not when it's worse than a smack in the face. Or when it makes being sick worse than "just" being sick.

Because I don't have an illness anyone can see, I don't get to park in any of the reserved spaces at the store or in life. Nope. Those special "life spaces" are reserved too, you see. Since I look like I can trot through life like a young Mick Jagger, there are lots of things I get a dirty attitude for:

• Fatigued? Well, that's just too bad. I look too healthy (and might I say "gorgeous", or maybe not) to be fatigued. Fatigued from what? I look perfectly healthy. I should be able to wind up every morning and put the Energizer Bunny to shame!
• A little down and blue? Well, none of that pity-pot business for me, my friend. At least I don't have ~insert disease #1 her~ or ~insert another disease~, right? My life is just perfect. I can get any job I used to, or go back to school to learn another job. Oh wait... I'd need to have better short-term memory for that. And then there's the whole fatigue thing. You know the problem I shouldn't have. We won't even talk about the stigma of being sick while looking well and fine. We really won't discuss any of the rest of stuff that can beat you down like Tyson in the ring. All those things like housing and food. Affordable housing and food. 
• Not counting my blessings. Because, you know, I don't have one of those other diseases. And, besides, the one I do have doesn't seem all that bad. And, not that I care what idiots think, but I do count my blessings. I wish I could add more people to the list of blessings to count. (Okay now, that was just plain snarky. Sorry.)
• Discouraged ever now and then? Well, that's just not allowed. Even though I struggle to piece back together some kind of a life. Even though I can't write as well as I used to (the one thing I was good at), and even though I wonder if I'm ever going to feel "normal" again. None of that matters. Especially when other people make it all look so easy.

I could go on. And on. I won't because then I'd get accused of being bitchy. I'm going to have to ask my docs if "bitchy" is a symptom of this disease or a symptom of most invisible diseases. A symptom brought on by, maybe, those other things I mentioned right up there. I'm pretty sure if I ask the wrong person, I'll get the "parking space" look.

So, yes, while I count my blessings and ward off my own bitchiness, I do sometimes want to wear a shirt like this one:

Cos that's what people think anyway
(get this shirt here)

And, by the way, you can hold the advise about how to handle illness. I don't want to handle it, want to beat the crap out of it. And, anyway, no one else - not even someone with the same disease - can tell anyone else how to handle their illness. I think that any disease/disability - no matter how "strong" someone is or how well they seem to handle it - is a personalized kind of struggle. My struggle has my name on it, not anyone else's. And, okay: that doesn't really explain the "bitchy" part. (I'm seriously going to have to ask a doc about that!)

Being sick made me more "natural"???
(get this shirt here)

 For those of you who don't know, I have another problem:

Part of it is this tho

It's true. If I'm not smiling, I look like I'm off to start trouble. That's why I smile so much (and sometimes look like I either have a great secret or better meds). Mostly. Part of it is (sometimes) just this:

I do have a flaw (yes, just one) of my own: I have a problem hearing other people complain about their little aches and pains when some of us are dealing with bigger stuff. See how I fell right into that whole "your problem vs my problem" thing? That's what happens when I turn my head and you see my other face.

So, yeah. This is a shout out to you all who are healthy and well. Don't make those of us with an invisible illness have to wear our bitchy face just to repel your "parking lot" attitude.

Peace

--Free

P.S.: Again, I'm thinking of Perry. I used to have him to vent all of this to. I guess I'll be using the blog to sometimes "talk" to him.

Sunday Refreshment (Midwest Style)

Lord knows, my spirit needed refreshing and I sure got it this morning. If those plane rides (which scared the crap out of me) and that layover that almost required my applying for residency at DFW - well, if all that didn't wear on me, my previous weeks of chaos has. I've been under so much stress the past few months that, since I landed here in this amazing place, I feel as if my body is in detox. Church this morning is just what I needed to feel replenished.

Before church...

 Let me go ahead and admit now that I haven't been to church in so long that it's a wonder I didn't knock on the front door. Luckily, I didn't have to; the folks at the church I attended seriously welcomed me with such open arms and hearts that I found myself tearing up during the praise and worship part of the service. (I tend to weep with joy whenever I am in church. Too bad I haven't shed enough of those tears lately!)

...After church

The folks here are just... I don't even know how to describe their kindness. It's not a phony-rote-cue-card kind of "Hi, how are'ya." This is sincere, look-you-in-the-eye consideration, compassion and concern. I almost didn't know how to take it all in. How sad is that?

They were. Seriously nice.

Anyway, I feel better than I did when I went to bed and woke up. I went to bed with the start of a cold and woke up with those germs playing golf with my bones. I told my brother that I remembered something our Mom used to say about that's like the Devil whispering for you to turn on over and go on back to sleep.

The drive home was nice. We drove slowly so that I could play the bumpkin outsider and take pictures of every other stalk of corn, barn and cute little house. Seriously. My finger is getting a callous from working the camera on my phone. (By the way, I will be posting some of the pics when I get them organized. Or get them off my brother's phone. Did you know that the Galaxy 4 camera really, really sucks snot? It does.)

Now that I am home and have done this post for the day, I am about to crawl into (or under) the bed and throw Robitussin at this nasty cold. It was pretty lame that the chick from Alaska was sitting in church wrapped up in a coat all morning... Just. So. Um... No words.

I'll be back to regular posting and reviews in the next few days. I have a couple of skin-care products on the way from Tomoson, and my sister-in-law and I have to pick up our free Silk Almond Coconut Blend to try. For this moment, though, I can't even type straight, so...

Peace
--Free

When I Buy a Blanket

So.... now that I am here (you know, the place that I call M.M. - "Mayberry of the Midwest"), I am kind of falling in love with the area. Just like in any relationship, I don't want to fall too hard too fast, but...

The waterfall behind an old mill house

From a walk through the neighborhood

Love the trees that are everywhere

...And I mean everywhere!

And then I found THIS at the store. Yum.

A walnut. Yes. From a tree in my family's yard.

About 7 bucks for this humongous fish sammich

Just a sight I had to photograph as we went on a drive

Not every place is right for every person (no-brainer, right?), but every place is right for some person(s). From the minute I saw the landscape below from the window of the plane, I started having feelings for what I was seeing. Good feelings, calm feelings, hopeful feelings.

So far, I've seen soybean fields, cornfields, animal pastures... I even saw deer playing in a park.

My first full night here, I think I had the best sleep that I've had in years. And I only slept in bits and pieces. I kept waking up to go and sit out in the fresh air and sounds of a peaceful night. I listened to a stillness that I haven't been in the company of for a long time. I had little chats with God. I even had a little chat with a squirrel that was playing in a nearby tree. (Actually, I only chatted with him after my heart quit hammering. The little booger was playing so furiously in the tree that I imagined some big and scary thing was about to drop down on my head!)

This morning, I introduced myself to the cadence of the town - which cycles from slow, deep breathing to that which is slower and more shallow; I met and struck up acquaintances with  some of the streets and sights. I learned that not much is open before 7am. (Last night I figured out from the sudden silence that not much is open or moving after 8pm.)

Today, my brain is still tired and trying to adjust to the time and calm. I thought that my body was bone-tired, but I realized a few minutes ago that it's just trying to re-calibrate from too much stress to this feeling of being detoxed. It's very weird.

Because I've had my hopes dashed before - more than 'dashed', maybe more like soaked and beaten against rocks like so much dirty laundry - I'm cautious with my expectations. When I'm ready to accept that this really might be the place for me, I'll go and buy coffeepot. Maybe I'll even buy a plant.

I'll know that I'm ready to settle in when I go and buy a blanket. Right now, I'm working on just breathing.

Peace
--Free

Alcohol Is NOT My Friend

Because I am bad at consuming alcohol I was entertained by Rachel Page's project of captioning these products. As the article says, that's brilliant. And true.

I quit drinking on a (socially) regular basis after being married to (and abused by) an alcoholic. Before all that, I was never a big drinker anyway, but I will never forget my last liquor-fueled wipe out. It happened during a Mother's Day celebration.

The whole plan for that special day was put together by my brothers and their friends. I was included because, even though I'm not a "bio-mom", I put in some time as the working "dad" figure of a couple of my nieces. I take no full credit for the raising of kids and, after that Mother's Day, I take no credit for being able to handle more than my three-drink limit. One, if we are talking Long Island Iced Tea. Or maybe not even a full one of those!

For that Mother's Day, the guys rented a Hummer limo for me, two of my sisters-in-law and about four other women. My sister was lucky enough to miss my antics because she was home sick. I should have missed my antics.

We all started our day with an early wine and champagne type breakfast. That right there should have been our first sign. No one should have liquor for breakfast unless they are filming a porn movie or about to fly on an airplane.

I have to mention that this all took place in and around Phoenix Arizona. Arizona is warm in December. In May, the temps run about the same as those of Hell's play-cousin. I think we hit 150 degrees that day, but I'm told it was more like 115. Same thing.

So, I'm eating nothing for breakfast unless you count the pulp in my mimosa. At damn near 50 years old, I found myself buckling to the peer pressure of being around a bunch of wealthier, prettier women than I. Apparently, despite their glamour, they each had at least one wooden leg I wasn't told about. These gals were tossing back liquor like they were taking shots of Fresca. I stuck to one mimosa and a small hit of moscato. And started sweating like I was in full menopause mode.

The limo arrived so we went outside to take a group photo. I'm glad we took the pic because that's the last time I looked presentable for the occasion. After three minutes in that heat, my hair had transformed to a sort of processed nappy look that all the "sistahs" out there will understand. My one good (and expensive) outfit - that I'd worn to fit in with the Housewives of Phoenix - would have been soaked through with my hormonal sweating. Thank goodness for that blazing "dry heat" I'd heard so much about, right?

Here's something else that amazed me about those Arizona ladies: they don't sweat. Their makeup doesn't run and their hair doesn't look like they just rode a slip and slide through the desert. I couldn't get into the car fast enough. The other ladies probably thought I was just really impressed with my first ride in such a gigantic limo, but I was only crawling around like Ethel Mertz and Lucy because I was trying to find the controls for the air-conditioner.

Forgive me if I don't get the sequence of our ride correct, but I know that we drove from my brother's house in Gilbert to wherever the mall is in Scottsdale. I think we might have ridden through other areas, but someone gave me a wine glass and someone else kept re-filling it. At some point, one of my sister-in-law handed me a Visa gift card and explained that the guys had given each of us one so that we could play a game called "Best Gift".

I was already pretty lit up on all that morning liquor, but I understood the basics of the game. We were going to go into the mall and buy things that would make a cute Mother's Day gift. We'd get back together in an hour and vote on who chose the best gift. The winner would get another Visa gift card.

Okay. Sounded good to me. Of course, tipsy as I was, anything sounded good to me. Curling up on that beautiful leather seat and taking a snooze sounded best to me, but, hey.

I'm all about life lessons. Live and learn, right?

When I stepped outside the cool air of the car and into the heat that is high noon in Scottsdale, I learned that heat maximizes the effects of alcohol. I learned that it's tricky to walk in high heels and a tight skirt when you are drunk, hot and just really, really want to lay down and go to sleep. I also learned that those rich heffas I was spending my Mother's Day with could put down liquor like a rock band on tour.

The other ladies checked their hair and makeup and stepped out of the limo looking red-carpet ready. I stepped out looking like I was ready for rebab. I was drunker than I'd been on my wedding night. When the heat hit me, I was instantly more drunk.

I have no idea how I made it through the shopping part of the game. One of the other ladies paired up with me so we could pool our gift cards. We agreed that we'd split winnings if we won. I was so incredibly wasted that I would've agreed to stripping down right there at the mall and doing a pole dance for the other shoppers.

I don't exactly recall what my shopping partner and I bought, but I do recall that we finished before everyone else. I recall that we decided to wait for the others by having a drink at this little outside bar. I recall this with the clarity that is reserved for all of our deepest, darkest moments. That's because, drunk as I already was, I let my companion order a drink for me. She ordered something called a 'Saki Bomb'.

Right there is when I slipped from merely sloppy drunk to wasted to the point of all-hell-is-going-to-break-loose. And no one saw it coming. (Don't blame me, I couldn't see my twenty fingers in front of my face.)

Have you ever experienced a Saki Bomb? No? Well, it's when you take mug of ice-cold beer and drop in a thimble of that Devil's brew called rice wine. You drop the glass of Saki right into the beer. Yeah. Then you slam the mug hard on the table - you know, to announce to everyone that you are an drunken idiot who is about to be even more drunk and more of an idiot. And you chug all that liquor right down, like the good and obedient girl who is trying to fit in with all the cool kids.

Said the spider to the fly

Except I was too old to be a 'girl' and too old to worry about fitting in!!!

Let me stop and add in a couple of details:

• Our limo driver happened to be a tall, blue-eyed blond guy called Jimmy Hendrix. No lie (or so he said), that was his real name. Nice guy. Gorgeous guy. Or at least I think he was gorgeous. With that much liquor in my system, everyone and everything was gorgeous.
• The mall wasn't the main stop of our day. We still had lunch planned at some restaurant. Which one? I can't remember. Doesn't matter anyway because... Well, you'll see.

Okay. So I'm two Saki Bombers in when the rest of our party shows up to head back to the limo. My shopping/drinking partner maybe realizes at this point that I'm no match for her and the other ladies in the drinking department when our car pulls around and I have trouble standing up. Taking off my shoes made standing up easier but did nothing for the walking part. Jimmy Hendrix comes to the rescue. He picks me up and carries me to the car. Like something out of "The Officer and the Gentleman," except no one watching is clapping and hooting. They are just staring. 

Here is where I have trouble remembering what followed. I know I made it to the limo. I know that Jimmy was a very prepared driver because he had barf bags on hand. I remember that we made it to the restaraunt. I even made it inside. I don't know how I made it inside, but I made it to the bar where we all sat to wait for our table. 

Let's stop again for a moment and ask some questions:

• Question: Did no one in my party realize exactly how drunk I was?
• Answer: Apparently not because someone ordered me a glass of wine.
• Question: How did I end up outside, sitting on the curb with my shoes lost and my dress hiked up around my upper thigh?
• Answer: I don't know but that sun was a bitch.
• Question: How did I make my way into the ladies' room.
• Answer: Again, I don't know, but I do know that those wall tiles were so nice and cool that I wanted to make love to them.

So, I'm in the bathroom. I make it into a stall okay, but can't make my way back out without fighting with the door. I must have beat the crap out of that door because it took both my sisters-in-law to get me off of it. 

While my sisters-in-law helped break up the fight I was having with myself, another member of our party wondered if they shouldn't call an ambulance. Seriously. All those ladies were having a panic attack because they just knew that my brothers were going to kill them for letting me get so messy drunk. Most of them worked for or with my older brother. I think my one SIL was worried about divorce.

I don't remember who was brave enough to do it, but someone called the brother that some of them worked for. I know they did because I remember him coming right into the ladies room, picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of drunken potatoes. He carried me out to his car and drove me home.

I was drunk for two days. I'm not kidding. I was so drunk that, when I was able to crawl to the kitchen in the middle of the night for water, I learned another lesson: water re-activates drunkenness. I spent the rest of the night on the kitchen floor.

This was the worst bout of drunkenness I've ever experienced. And, guess what? I was supposed to start my new job at my brother's office that Monday. Didn't make it to work. Barely made it off the kitchen floor and back to bed. 

When I started my job on Tuesday, I walked in to an office full of people giving me a little welcoming standing ovation. How very embarrassing.

I lied when I said that was the last time I was really drunk. There were a couple more times. Once when I had my friend pull over at two in the morning so that I could get on my knees in the snow and throw up in a grocery store parking lot. Another time when I literally slid into a Village Inn to order an after-the-club breakfast and just fell asleep at the table while my companions made excuses for me. 

One thing I can say is that I have never driven drunk. After the third drink, I can't even walk drunk. So, yeah: Alcohol is not my friend so I quit hanging out with it. The most I'll do now is invite it in for one quick glass with dinner. No goodnight kiss and no sleepovers. (Except when I have to fly. Alcohol is my best friend then.)

Peace

--Free

When Truth Hurts

You know how you know what you know but wish you didn't because all that knowing can sometimes be painful?

I know, right?

If you care a great deal about anyone - a child, a lover, or a very dear friend - this right here is one of those sometimes painful truths:

~sigh~

See what I mean?

I have a flaw (yes, only one!): I always think I am right about everything. Ev-ver-ry thing. Especially when I am being critical of someone else's behavior. Or choices. Or logic. 

When The Girls (you know, those 2 kids my sister, mom and I raised in our little village of family) were young, I hated to watch them make mistakes. I didn't want them to find out the hard way what it meant to choose a bad "friend", walk away from a good friend, or crush on the worst guy ever. As their auntie and one of their protectors, I wanted to talk them out of doing things that I knew they'd end up regretting. 

Here's another painful truth my mother always preached: Sometimes you have to bang your own head against that brick wall of life to learn a lesson.

I still attend classes

I've learned from (most of) my mistakes. The girls learned. We all do. Well, we do if we at least admit we are human enough to make mistakes.

What I can't deny, I'll try to ignore

What I love is when people dim their mistakes and flaws by shining a light on someone else's. I know some folks like that. They are the ones who sit on their mountain  to laugh at someone else's molehill. I'm just waiting for the day when they need to borrow my shovel to dig themselves out of their fantasy that they are better than the rest of us. Even if I'm still busy using the shovel for myself, they will learn to see themselves a little clearer when that light is turned back on them. I know this from my own experiences.

I just realize I have another flaw (that's two!): I tend to ramble when I try to blog on the fly! (I'm supposed to be doing a trial run of packing to see how much will fit in my suitcases. I only have one more weekend to finish everything...)

Well, that's today's post. Hope you enjoyed it.

Peace

--Free

Sorrow, Not Regret

Talking to a (temporarily) depressed friend the other day, I could hear in her voice that the root of her mood came from thinking of all the regrets she has. Looking back on only the sorrows of life can bring anybody down. I've done it many times, and I'm sure most people have.

One thing about trying to talk a friend out of a low mood is that your words of advice often will shine back and light up your own situation. That's what happened for me. I didn't notice it until late last night when I was having one of those pity parties myself.

This was a pity party of one, brought on by having too much left to do in preparation for Iowa and letting myself get worked up into a state of post-midnight anxiety. If my family had been awake, I would have been distracted by the chaos that is our usual mode of being together under one roof. But it was late, I was tired and too wired to sleep, and I'm pretty sure that the smoked fish I had for a snack was acting as a organic hallucinogen.

I went from thinking of what to pack into the two suitcases I'm taking with me to wondering if I shouldn't add a third suitcase to wondering about the meaning of all life and afterlife. I actually got up and went outside for a while to stand in the rain and have a conversation with God (who was probably musing at how often we silly humans think for some reason that we have to be looking at something - the sky, tall trees, birds - to talk to Him). While I was outside, it started to rain and, as a result, I went back to the bedroom with not only a full-fledged case of self-inflicted anxiety but nappy hair and damp clothes.

Regrets are rude guests, always coming for a visit at the wrong time and when you are not in a mood to entertain them. They are really only good for one thing: reminding you that you have to be compassionate enough to have them over for company.

except maybe for that really bad high school haircut

Anyway, I said my prayers and lay down to try to sleep. Of course, once I started to relax, I started remembering everything I'd said to my friend. I hadn't said much (for me), but the basic piece of advice I gave her is probably something I retained from what my mother taught me:

Instead of only thinking of what you would undo if you could, try realizing that all choices can have good and bad consequences.

Yes, I could have remained with that first person who loved me. We could have spent all these years celebrating milestones and accomplishments as a couple. On the other hand, we might have separated anyway. We might have done more damage to each other had we stayed together any longer.

I could have taken a different job, or lived in different places, or done so many other things differently in my life.

But I didn't. And you know what? That's okay. It has to be. And it will be.

#SimpleTruth

Like I told my friend, there is no need regretting yesterday because there are no refunds. We can't go back and change anything, but we can live as a person who is changed for the better by the regrets we have.

When I went to sleep, I felt better. When I woke up, I certainly felt better. What I hope to remember from here on out is that I will always have some sorrow, but I'm never going to give time to past regrets.

Sing it, Ella!

Peace
--Free

Friendships, Conversations and Laughter

In my anxiety (good and bad) about everything happening in my life right now, I saw something hilarious on Facebook:

Thanks Sandy!

Best idea ever for a t-shirt! Of course, I had to call one of my best friends. This friend can always make me laugh, no matter how much I don't want to laugh. While we chatted, I scrolled through some cute images online. Here are highlights from the scrolling and our phone conversation:

I used to be this way

Me:  "How can I have such blazing indifference about a person I once cared about?"
Friend: "When that person is such a blazing mess that I wondered why you cared in the first place."
Me: "Who were we talking about?"
Friend: "That's my girl."

Pray for people to win their battles

Me: "What if I hate Iowa? Do I come back to Alaska for the WINTER? Will I survive that?"
Friend: "If you hate Iowa, just think about spending another winter in Alaska. I bet Iowa is going to win that fight."

Friend: (teasing, I think) "Make sure you pack enough hair products. Iowa sounds wonderful, but I'm not sure if they are going to have a big supply of Afro-Stretch in the stores."
Me: "Thanks for giving me something else to worry about."
Friend: "On the other hand, Iowa is close to Minnesota. Doesn't Prince live in Minnesota? He's wearing an afro again."
Me (after my brain comes out of a tailspin of confusion): "So, what? I'm supposed to drive over and borrow products from Prince?"
Friend: "Or just order your nap control items online. STOP STRESSING YOURSELF OUT!"
Me: (Realizes she was just teasing about packing my hair products.)

I've been hugger & hugged

Me: "If I move there, I should have less stress. Did I tell you I plan to start a garden?"
Friend: "Do you remember that you once killed a cactus?"

Me: "I love you, girl. Promise that I'll never be blazingly insignificant to you."
Friend: "As long as you matter to yourself, you matter to me."

My glass if full of good people

Before my friend and I hung up, she told me something I needed to hear: that we should pray not just for the people we love, but for the people we can't love. That's deep.

Peace
--Free

P.S.: I see you over there, back on G+, Miz +Marla Hughes & I like that you're back!

Life's Too Short...

On About.me, I saw a bio that had the greatest profile line ever: "Life's too short to drink bad wine."

How perfectly true is that?

Of course, it gets you thinking about other things. My first thought was, "Life's too short to spend so much of it frowning." Then I had about a zillion other thoughts pinging around in my head.

Here's my quicklist of "Life's Too Short...:

• To worry about the day your outfit was horrible
• For spending time on the wrong people
• To think about what you can't do instead of doing what you can
• For having bad relationships, friendships, unsatisfying jobs
• To put off being happy

quotebites.com

When I feel afraid of change or challenges, I have a way of putting things into perspective. It's a little morbid, but very effective. What I do is think of all the people who lived long, full, go-for-it lives. You know they type: people who laughed the loudest, cried the hardest, and loved with deep passion. If that doesn't work, I think of the people who died before they had the chance to realize just how short life really is. Basically, I read the obituaries that are clipped and saved in our family scrapbook.

The other day, my aunt was telling me about our 97-year old grandmother, *Sadie. "Miss Sadie" had just returned from a trip to Disneyland. Now that's the way to live a long life! She she still cooks and cleans and does all her own errands around town. (I just hope she's not still driving!) About five years ago, Sadie had a boyfriend 20 years her junior. Never mind his age, let's just think "boyfriend".

What does it means to have a boyfriend of any age when you yourself are 90-plus? I'm in my 50's and if I had to come up with an escort, I'd be calling 1-800-Rent-A-Date. (Maybe because I am sitting around reading family obits?)

After my sister was diagnosed with cancer, she didn't sit around crying about the worst that could happen. In her mind, she's so blessed every day that Death doesn't scare her the way it intends to. She's raised wonderful kids, she's been an amazing sister and daughter. She's been in love and she has friends who adore her. She hasn't yet done everything in life that she might want to, but she's enjoyed most of what she has done. 

That's what I want in life. If I die after my next breath, I will be glad that I have loved and been loved. I'm thankful that I will be missed and remembered with a lot of laughter. In my human vanity, I am sure that years from now, friends and family will be telling stories of things I've done (and I'm glad that some of the stories won't be repeated until after I'm dead!)

Lots of people have done more - and had more, seen more, tasted more, traveled more - than you and I. Some people have been known and loved by millions. Some have changed lives of millions. That doesn't make any other life mean less. All that really matters for each of us is that we meant something by being here. If that "something" was special to only one person - a child or a friend or a lover - it's enough. It's enough even if it's only special to us.

Life. What else is it good for other than for living? 

Peace

--Free

*Name changed to protect myself from having my ear pinched!

"Nice" People and Their Dirty Deeds

What is the worst thing you have ever done to someone? Steal from them, cheat, lie on them?

The worst habit I practice
&
The one I hate most

The worse thing I have done to someone is to make them feel insignificant. It was a long time ago and, thank God, I learned how damaging that action can be.

I know lots of nice, wonderful (and, in some cases, Christian) people. I know folks who would feed a stranger with the last crumb in their pantry. Unfortunately, some of these people do horrible things every day, many times a day. The sad thing is, most of them probably never think about the dirty deeds they do.

Most of the best things I know about being a decent person are ones I learned from my mother. I'm better at some of these things than I am at others, but I am a work in progress. One of my less attractive habits (that I still cling to with a little bit of selfish relish) is calling people out on this blog. Sorry, but this is my rooftop and I'll shout if I want to!

A lot of us need to be called out every now and then. Like Carly Simon sings in"You're So Vain", some of you might think this song is about you.If so, then just do better or stay miserable. So, in my best Jeff Foxworthy voice (if not his humor), I present:

You Might be a Dirty Deeder...

• You talk, talk, talk, but never listen, listen,  listen
• You are annoying in the same was ways that others annoy you
• You've forgotten how to say "Please" and "Thank you"
• You think that being bossy makes you a boss
• You never think of anyone but yourself (and it shows)
• You take people for granted
• You have a "God" complex - your universe, your rules
• (God will deal with that one)
• You mistake your faults for strengths
• You're only good to people when you get credit for it
• You mistake being a control freak for being in control
• You forgot everything your elders taught you about being decent

Do you know people like this? Do you have friends like this? If you are young, you might as well know that you'll likely meet a lot of people who practice dirty deeds. This article could be helpful.

It happens

I've been on the giving and receiving end of careless unpleasantness. Once upon a time, if dirty deeds were a band, I'd have been the lead singer. These days, I'm just an occasional groupie. What helps me is feeling that my mother is watching me from Heaven and shaking her head when I go on the road. Mostly, I try hard to make her proud.

And make sure you don't choke

As a (mostly) reformed member of Dirty Deeds, I am forming a self-help group. Not really, but I have some advice that I know my mother would approve of. Matter of fact, I learned this from her as well:

• Don't say you care. Care.
• Try to hear yourself with the ears of the person you are talking to.
• Know who you are dealing with and adjust your approach accordingly.
• Learn to bite your tongue. It's a metaphor and won't really hurt so much.
• Interact with and speak to your elders in the way you will want your children to mimic.

My mother wasn't big on words. She didn't often say that she loved me, but she was the queen of actions. Even so, I didn't realize what was truest about my mother's good heart until I saw this

Don't know who he is, but I like this thought

Peace

--Free

A Time of Waiting

I'm always quoting Zora Neale Hurston's line: "There are years that ask questions and years that answer." I'm not worried about years, but, lately, I feel like I am living in a time of waiting.

My family and I are waiting to see how my sister's chemo is going; I am waiting to move and be settled; I have a friend who is waiting to see whether or not she will be moving. I have another friend who's wife is battling cancer. I'm waiting to hear how they are both doing. So, really, I waiting and praying. Lots of both, but I'm ashamed to say that I've been doing more worrying than praying. Bad habit.

In this time of waiting, I've been having moments of reflection that come out of nowhere. Not the good kind of reflection - like musing over hopes and goals - but the bad kind.

Last night's moment was dark. Early in the evening, I was dog tired, but when a sudden rainstorm started, I couldn't sleep so I just sat up feeling as if all my life is hanging in the middle of the universe. Waiting for something. Wishing I knew what all I need to be prepared for when the waiting ends and the breathing begins again. There have been a lot of those kinds of moments.

The other day, when I was visiting DJ, I actually did have one nice moment. He and I have this thing where we call each other "Boo-boo." (Him: "Bye, Boo-boo, I see ya 'laler'." Me: "No, Boo-boo! No spitting!" Him: "Okay. I sorry, Boo-boo.") I was watching as he struggled to put on his favorite (and about-to-be too-small) pair of shoes. I spent a few minutes wondering who and what he will be in ten or fifteen years.

Today, after a dismal start to the morning, the sun broke free and I just needed to be outside in the warmth. I had a nice moment of watching a tiny squirrel skitter around in the branches of a tree, but when the wind kicked up, I just felt so sad and lonely that I started questioning the meaning of my life.

It's all this waiting that is making me so restless and moody. I need time to speed up a little bit, just enough to end all the waiting and show some answers to my prayers. I just want to be out of this particular space of time.

Peace
--Free

Mayberry of the Midwest

Still here in Alaska, but rushing to get prepped for life in Iowa.  A lot of people who know of my impending move are still a little curious about my reasons. All I can say is that no one can understand why I'm going unless they know where I've been for so many years.

My new town? I'll call it Mayberry of the Midwest. Mayberry. Not because it's small, quaint and country, but because it's everything I'm hoping it will be: small, quaint and country.

I'm looking to Mayberry for some physical, spiritual, social and financial healing. The last several years of living in Arizona, Texas and, back here, in Alaska have broken me in way that only God can fix. Living in a more affordable place is my first step to recovery.

Arizona ruined me financially; Texas broke my heart; and Alaska is too cold and expensive to give me anything I need in my life right now.  I want to be in a new place in my body and in my heart. I want the promises that sometimes a place can only offer a specific type of person at a certain time in their life.

What I've heard about "Mayberry" is that there is plenty of fresh air, a friendly (and sparse) population of church-going people. I've heard of old trees in the yards, unlocked doors on the residences. I envision being welcomed should I approach a neighbor for a borrowed cup of sugar. Okay, that might be pushing the technicolor dreams too hard. Still, I need a break from the harsh glare of the life I've been living.

I am looking forward to making a home for myself. A place to put my few belonging and enjoy them in peace. I want a home that makes me feel safe and calm and ready to go out and re-insert myself in the land of the working. I can't wait to put up family photographs and surround myself with cheap and precious furnishings. I am craving a a space to cook and dine in that is clean, cozy and functional. I want to sleep in comfort and quiet. Waking up in the morning to appreciation of simple blessings is another goal. I can't wait to plant a small garden, nurture potted plants and, maybe, have herbs and spices on my windowsill. This home that I dream of is full of fresh air and light, smelling of flowers (grown or sprayed from a can) and hope.

I suppose I am dreaming of a home and life that can be had anywhere, as long as one can afford it.

When I look back on the past seven to ten years of my life, I have memories of drudgery and resentment and a lack of cooperation from the people I aimed to please. Until I gained the dreams of Mayberry, my future was a dark cloud of being crowded and forced to go along to get along. I haven't been so much living a life to enjoy than just moving from day to day in survival  mode. Survival is like breathing: an automatic urge. Living is something only those with true hope and contentment can fully enjoy.

I don't wish on stars in the sky or rely on man-made promises. Stars burn out and men are only flawed and human. God, though, is a steady presence. He comes through every time. At the end of every road, in the darkest and loneliest of moods, He comes with hope and strength.  I've walked myself toward many bridges in this life of mine, but I have never been able to cross a single one of them without the Lord holding my hand.

So now, I begin this walk towards Mayberry. The bridge is a little rickety and, despite what I've heard, I'm not really sure what's on the other side. I'm just walking in faith.

Watch this space for stories of what I find on the other side. For now, goodnight.

Peace

--Free

What I Learned from Taking Surveys

Survey says...

Because I belong to quite a few blogger/brand "influencer" sites (like SheSpeaks, BzzAgent, etc.), I participate in all kinds of surveys. Sometimes, I catch myself laughing at my own responses.

One survey asked about my health and fitness habits. I'm no stone cold couch potato, but I felt like one after I had to answer this question: "How many hours do you exercise in a week?" My answer choices were: 5-10 hours, 10-15 hours, 15-20 hours, more than 20 hours.

I was a little ashamed that, even if I count stretching the truth, there's no way I can cop to 5 hours per week. If I count the time I spend on the Glider and time spent chasing after DJ, plus any random sit-ups I get in before bedtime, I might be able to claim 3 hours. In a good week. Okay, it's really closer to 2, but chasing DJ should get extra points, right?

What I want to know is, who the heck with a real life and normal brain function has 20 hours a week to exercise?

I don't think I've spent a total of 20 hours in my lifetime even thinking about exercising. 20 hours a week is a part time job. Who has 20 hours a week just for exercise? Okay - who other than a celebrity who is paid to look impossibly fit two weeks after giving birth to a couple of kids? In the real world, there are mommies and daddies who don't get 20 hours of sleep in a week.

So yeah.

Another survey wanted to know about my non-food shopping habits. Apparently, most people (or at least the people who write these surveys) have way more disposable income than I do. My self-esteem crawled into a gutter and died a painful death when I realized I buy so few name-brand, top-label, better-known, coupon-resistant items that my razors are made in a country I had to look up on a map to be sure it was a real place.

Probably the funniest survey I ever took was one to do with travel. I gave up halfway through it when I realized that I was tempted to lie about the last time I took a planned vacation. To be strictly honest, I haven't "planned a vacation" in years. I have planned fleeing a crazy spouse. I have planned family emergencies. I have even planned a fake vacation to avoid a person who wrongly assumes we are friends and that I would want him staying with me for a couple of weeks.  That time I went to Rome. In my imagination. It was lovely. I plan to go back one day - when those plans involve an actual passport and suitcases.

I think I'm going to have to devise my own surveys, if I want to see questions that are more fitting to my life and lifestyle. Maybe I will post some of them on here one day. Just for kicks.

Peace
--Free

Weekend Music/Packing and Praying

I'm getting a little overwhelmed with the packing. I wish it would rain like it did yesterday.

This is the way I feel right now - not good, not bad, not happy, not sad. Sort of sleepwalking through what I need to get done.

Peace
--Free

Right Reasons, Right Actions

When I began telling friends that I was thinking of relocating, a lot of them understood my initial reason: cost of living. It's too high here and it's more affordable "there".

Lots of people relocated for lots of reasons. Some people move for a job or for a lover; to regroup and refresh, or get their life back on track; or just because they can't stand being in one place for too long. Some people move even when they don't want to or without knowing why. Now that I have pretty much made up my mind to relocate, I want to point out the reason that will seal the decision: my faith.

The first thing that I heard about my potential new home was how sincerely nice the people are. Out of the conversation I had with my family (who lives there), the part that sticks in my mind is when my brother said: "People don't just pray for you, they actually care for you. They don't just say 'Have a nice day', they mean it."

I can't tell you how many times I've had someone say to me (and I to them), "I'll be praying for you", only to have them say the prayer and move on with their life. Did they, or I, follow up on the prayer by checking back to see how things are going? Probably not. Unless they are very close and dear to me, I know that I often felt my duty as a person ended with the "Amen" of the prayer.

There have been times when I have followed up prayers for others with a letter or phone call. I've sincerely cared what happens to the other person. There have been times when people have done more than pray for me.

I think that, as Christians, we sometimes forget that we are brothers and sisters. Instead of asking God in our prayers to bless one another, we could be doing a little blessing of our own. We could be helping that single mother with the kids by offering to babysit or provide a meal. We could be giving our cast-off furniture to the family next door instead of dropping it off at a donation center for the write-off receipt.

For years, whenever my mother saw someone inebriated or homeless, standing on the street corner with signs asking for a handout, I never once heard her say that she'd be praying for them. Instead, Mom would go somewhere and buy a hot meal and coffee and take it back to that person. Then she would pray that they were going to be nourished and blessed by that offering.

I truly believe that a lot of time, when we say that we are going to be praying for someone, we are just speaking out loud that we are Christians. I'd much rather have - and do - the action of Christianity. After all, we will even pray for our enemies. Why aren't we also doing for our brothers and sisters?

For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Matthew 25:35-36

After that conversation with my brother, I decided that I want to be more of a Christian in action that one who just prays for people. Whether or not this new place turns out to be all that my brother says it is, I can be all that I promised to be as a Christian.

I've been the one who, either in body or spirit, was thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick and in prison. Thank God for brothers and sisters who didn't just stop at "praying" for me.

Peace
--Free

Every Time I Need an Answer

Out of all my storms, I am beginning to see glimpses of sun.

In the past several days, I think I've lost a few pounds just from the stress. I haven't been able to eat or sleep or settle my thoughts. I did manage to pray.

Today, our family got a couple pieces of cautious good news. We're not flying banners yet, but we are feeling more hopeful. As for my personal situation, I got a big dose of hope too.

All the songs tell us that all we need is love. Love is nice and I try to never turn down the right kind, but it's hope that keeps me going from day to day.

I can't go into detail yet, but I am thinking of making some huge changes in my life. Huge. Major. Good and hopeful changes. Lord knows, I've made big changes before, but they were never just for me. I've made job changes, location changes and relationship changes - always for the benefit of others. This time, I'm only having to think of myself. It's scary as hell!

We'll see what the coming days bring. For now, I am just enjoying the weightlessness of peace.

If you've read even a fourth of my blog posts, you know that one of my favorite writers is Zora Neale Hurston. After I finished thanking God for this peace I am feeling, one of my best-loved Hurston quotes came to mind:

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” ( from "Their Eyes Were Watching God")

Perfectly true. Every time my life asks questions, God provides an answer. This time He gave an answer I was happy to hear.

More later, when I have things firmed up.

Peace
--Free

Pack and Go Life

I just had to stop what I was doing and write this post.

While apartment hunting, I began de-cluttering my life. I didn't realize how much useless "stuff" I've been packing around the past few years.

When I owned a home, I had closets and pantries and storage space to spare. And I did everything I could to keep them filled up to over-flowing. After selling the first house and moving to Arizona into another (smaller) home, I still had too much stuff. Stuff I didn't wear, use or eat. Just stuff to fill spaces.

When I left Arizona and moved into my first apartment ever, I didn't have much with me. It was nice. It would have been heavenly if the rest of my life had been as de-cluttered and orderly.

Finally, when I returned to Alaska and back into a family home, I began my accumulation of, yep, more Stuff. Clothes and knick-knacks and trinkets and decorations. I carried a lot of it with me into my current situation.

Now that I am looking at moving into smaller accommodations, I'm getting rid of all that is unnecessary. I expected to feel some sense of loss or emptiness but, I'm shocked at how renewed I feel. There is a feeling of freedom and lightness that I don't think I have ever known.

When everything that has led up to my current move began, I felt frustrated and angry. Lord knows, I don't need the stress of a move in the middle of the chaos that is my life at the moment. I had a week or so of just being pissed off and anxious.

Then, like at every other needful time in my life, God stepped in. In the middle of what I like to call "my personal storm," He sent a blessing of peace and calmness. People who don't believe in a personal Savior will be shaking their heads and tsk-tsking this, but I know what's true.

Today, while I was packing and sorting things, and making runs to drop things off at Salvation Army, my anxieties ebbed and faded. In my heart, I felt so much quiet and stillness that I had to just stop and say, "Thank You."

As for the future, I am planning to practice what I call a "pack and go life." It applies to objects, people and possessions - both spiritual and material:

• What I don't need, I won't have.
• What doesn't feed and nourish me, I don't need.
• What doesn't simplify or ease the way for me, I will avoid.
• What doesn't bless or inspire me can't take up space.

Growing up, I was taught that everything happens for its own reasons - even if we can't see or understand or agree with those reasons. In times of trouble, I always doubt that, but it's always proved true in the end for me.

I hope that anyone else who is dealing with their own struggles right now will find this kind of calmness and peacefulness. Those are the only things we should ever try owning in this life.

Peace

--Free

The Un-reality of Reality Shows

On G+, Food Network recently asked for fans to describe the segment they'd like to see on one of the FN shows. I submitted that they should have a "real" non-chef person trying to create chef recipes with a normal budget. That got me thinking about TV in general.

Let's be honest. There's very little reality in the reality shows on TV.

When the Real Housewives first came on, the women didn't represent the average housewife - unless "average" meant married to someone very wealthy (or temporarily kind-of-sort-of wealthy) and living under/caving in to a lot of peer-pressure.  The current housewives are a little more established in their own rights as businesswomen, but are still extremely shallow and self-absorbed.

A true reality show about housewives would show more of the juggling and struggling that women in the home have to cope with nanny-free. There'd be no personal assistants, mansions with indoor basketball courts or trips to places that are on the average woman's "Dream Vacation" or bucket list instead of as a notation on the next film schedule. We'd see more women not wearing full-makeup and Spanx at 7 in the morning. We'd also see more of the kids and husbands. Oh - and those kids and husbands wouldn't be so interchangeable that no one would notice if the families did an overnight swap.

Real people, real kids, real life. It happens.

While I am on my rant about the Housewives, let me  just say that I have seen some of those wives when the camera catches them in full-on sunlight and at the wrong angle. They have bulges, sags and wrinkles just like other women past thirty (and all those heffas are waaaay past thirty, no matter what their lying mouths say), and if they don't it's because they: never eat carbs, ever; don't smile with any abandon; don't go anywhere without a hair-and-makeup person on standby; or they are constantly in pain from sucking it in.

What reality TV would have you think

(Maybe this post will be just about the Housewives. I've gotten on a roll here.)

Have you ever noticed that the kitchens and dining rooms in the Housewives homes are always perfectly clean? I mean, spotless. Even if they are making a batch of Rice Krispy Treats with the (clean and name-brand-attired) kids? There are never crumbs on the floor, goo on the counters, or mysterious stains on the sink back wall. I mean, I know they all have maids and such, but I just don't trust the nutrition or love of a meal made without wrecking the orderliness of the kitchen. When I feed kids, I want to see some evidence that they enjoyed the meal. They don't have to leave the mess of untrained animals being fed at the table, but it would be nice to know that a five-year old doesn't have the social manners of an 80-year old dowager.

Now let's talk about the Housewives' attire.

I would like to think that any woman who has ever been married and had - or has even been within 5 feet of a child - owns a raggedy pair of jeans. Or an ugly, stretched out sweater, or a sweatsuit without "Juicy" or "Victoria's Secret" stitched on it. All the Housewives on TV have perfectly fitting clothes (well, usually) with matching accessories for any occasion. Their sandals never have those little loose threads that show wear and tear from more than one use. Their toenails are always perfectly painted and the heels of their feet are never ashy. Ever. It's as if their skin oozes lotion.

I don't trust a woman who doesn't have to occasionally check her feet or elbows for ash. I have to keep a bottle of lotion on my person at all times and I have had to apologize about the state of my feet before whipping out my dogs for the doctor to do an examination.

What do I know? I'm not a housewife. Even if I one day marry the man of my dreams, I hope to God I never turn into a Housewife. I don't have the willpower. I'm just a single woman with no kids and there are days when I have to do a wheat grass shot before I have the energy to put on makeup. So enough about those women. Let's talk about the food shows.

I have a couple of food show favorites. Guy Fieri is my hero. I love "Diner, Drive-ins and Dives". Lots of real folks cooking and eating real food. That's cool stuff. Except it makes me hungry. I once wanted to move across the coast because of an episode on the best hamburgers made from scratch. Plus Guy looks like a big, tall cute Teddy Bear with cool shades.

My least favorite food shows are the ones where supposedly "real people" do everyday meals.

An "everyday meal" for me doesn't involve fresh-caught lobster or farm-grown ingredients that come from a market in some famous New York district to be cooked up in my cozy kitchen with two ovens and a built-in prep station. I shop at Walmart. I want to see some shows about how to jazz up my tuna casserole without using ingredients that are trending on Twitter among highbrow foodies.

A bit much?

Rachel Ray is annoying, but she's kind of down-to-earth with her meals. Of course, if I wanted to use her branded kitchen items, I'd have to hock my mama's jewelry to make a down-payment on one pan. Bonus points: Walmart carries the Rachel Ray line. They also carry a Paula Dean set that rubs way above the budget of a regular Walmart shopper. I'd need to give up a PFD to accessorize a kitchen with Ray and Dean.

I enjoy watching Giada sometimes just to marvel at how perfectly even and white her teeth are. I do get a little depressed watching her chow down like a truck driver while wearing size-two clothing. Bonus points: she actually seems to enjoy eating.

One day someone is going to do a cooking show for the person who has an oven with a faulty temp gauge and that one burner that always leans a little to the right. Most of the ingredients will be variable. No arugula or Tibetan pepper? No problem. Just use the Mrs Dash that's been sitting in the back of the pantry so long that you have to pound the can against the sink to loosen the flakes. Tell us how to make a decent meal from the fatty ground beef that's always on sale - because not everyone can afford the low-fat, choice ground that they keep behind glass at the butcher's counter. Not all of us shop at a butcher's counter.

So, yeah, I'm kind of over the b.s. of most of these shows.

Reality shows are going to be a joke until they are about "real" people living real lives. Most of us don't have sex tapes for sale, clothing lines in the works, or famous exes. Most of us are just seriously real people trying to survive in a seriously real world.

My "real world" makes me want one of these!

Peace
--Free

Good Moments, Bad Moments

☹: Stuck doing chores on a nice day because you put them off all week.
☺: Finding the 5 dollar bill you forgot in pocket of dirty jeans.

☹: Spending too much time on your hair because it won't "act right" (and you don't even want to go to job/party/family event anyway).
☺: Your hair looks fabulous and everyone notices.

☹: Having to go to the gym - when you'd rather be doing anything else - because you ate too much at the potluck/party/family event.
☺: Putting on a favorite garment and realizing that it fits the way it's supposed to.

☹: Having to plaster a smile on your face when you really feel like crying.
Good: Running into someone who's having a worse day than you and knowing your smiled cheered them up (or at least didn't make them feel worse).

☹: Waking up freaked out by that strange sound outside your window (after watching crime shows all evening).
☺: Realizing that strange sound is just a cute little squirrel playing in the leaves.

☹: That recipe you've been working on didn't turn out quite the way it did for Guy Fieri.
☺: Your finished dish might not look all that great, but it tastes awesome.

☹: That little skitter thing your heart does because some idiot on the road with you never learned to go the speed limit/use their turn signal/drive on wet or icy pavement.
☺: When you think of all the people who have been killed by idiots like that and you're not one of them.

☹: Finding out that someone you love a lot is sick with a killer disease.
☺: Having one more day, one more week, or even one more moment with that person. And cherishing it more.

(っ◕‿◕)っ♥ 

Peace
--Free

Active Ignorance

• When you know just enough about something to be entertained by it without knowing how if might really affect you.
• Knowing that a person or thing is not good for you and keeping that person or thing in your life.
• Calling someone else bossy or preachy just so you don't have to think about what they are saying.
• Chasing the easiest and least important things in life because you're too stubborn, vain, lazy or weak-minded to discover something better.
• Believing in one side of a "coin" while never realizing there is a flip-side.
• Following other people just as ignorant and never giving that any serious thought.
• Thinking yourself so strong or smart or savvy that you never learn anything.
• Believing in your own invincibility.
• When you'd rather live in the shadows of a lie because the light of truth hurts your eyes.
• Living as if you will live forever.
• Living as if you are already dead.
• Never wanting to live up to anything that requires anything more of you than you want to give.
• When you're tough enough to "go hard" at everything but are too weak to stand up for anything.

Peace

--Free

Spine-free Moments

• When a comedian makes a really funny joke about something and you realize it sort of describes you, but you laugh along as if they must be talking about someone else. Outwardly, you're laughing harder than anyone else. Inside, you're reminding yourself to find a treatment center for whatever goofy thing it is you're laughing about. I mean, if a comedian is making jokes about it, that shit must be serious. Dude.

• When someone does something extremely rude or ignorant to someone else and you slink off as if nothing happened. The thing is, you just know that you appreciate being stood up for when you're being bullied and you'd find new names to describe any coward who left you to the mercy of such rudeness.

• When a "friend" blurts out in front of others a confidence you shared privately and you just shrug it off. In your head you come up with a whole speech about the vow you'll be taking to never tell such a blabbermouth anything ever again. You even make mental lists on the spot about what you won't share with them again. Ever. (Those lists are so detailed that you need colons and semi-colons to sort them.)

• When someone is talking, talking, talking to you and you damn near bust a gut instead of interrupting them to go to the bathroom. Notice that these chatterboxes are usually the same people who will rudely interrupt your part of a serious conversation to point out some minor distraction that means nothing to either of you.

• When you let someone monopolize valuable time because you don't want to interrupt their meaningless rant about that rash on their ass. Or whatever. (Though I usually want to know if I'm in the presence of someone with a rash on their ass, just in case that shit is airborne and contagious.)

• When caught in a lie, instead of being mature enough to admit and apologize, you go into elaborate details with other lies to cover up or excuse the first one. (It's even worse when your cover lies are so creative that you want to go home and write short stories about them.)

• When you really like someone but they get a big head about it so you pretend you can't stand the very stink of their presence. What's worse is when you figure out that they liked you too but they are just as shy and insecure as you are. Too bad. Two silly dumbasses would probably make a great couple. Or... not? Never mind. (Did I really type 'the very stink of their presence'???)

• When you take an unpopular stance about something, but only in your head, and don't speak up when the issue is being discussed. Maybe you're afraid of the beating your belief will take. Take the hits and speak up. If you don't your soul will take the beating for you.

• When your friend is in the wrong, but you stand silent while he/she sits on their pity-pot about it. It's even worse when they sit on their throne and beat everyone else over the head with their scepter.

Damn. My spine is in a snit just from me writing that list. I don't know why making good choices is easier in our heads. My goal is to live making better choices instead of:

• Money over Matter. 
• Feelings over Sense. 
• Lust over Love. 
• Around over Through.
• Winning over Fair.
• Payback over Forgiveness.
• Right over Compassion.
• Looks over Beauty.
• Easy over Struggle.
• Cheating over Learning.
• Wrong over Right.
• Cookies over Salad.

Okay, that last one was just... Well, actually, that one's true too!

Peace

--Free