This Kind of Ignorance...

I don't know how in the hell I missed hearing about this until now, but after reading Morgan Freeman's opinion of the blackness of President Obama, I know that there will never be a lack of ignorance in this world.

Because I don't want to twist anything the wrong way, here is a direct quote:

“First thing that always pops into my head regarding our president is that all of the people who are setting up this barrier for him [...] they just conveniently forget that Barack had a mama, and she was white — very white American, Kansas, middle of America,” he said.

And, yes, that is a little bit out of context - or at least, it's not all that he said. He does speak out about how badly he feels Obama has been treated. That's not what I want to talk about.


Let's get to this Black/White bullshit. 


First of all, Obama having a white mother isn't a stigma and doesn't take away any of what was so beautiful about his election. What was so amazing about Obama's election is that (in my eyes) it showed a maturity of the American people - not black people, white people, rose-colored people. I also loved the idea that young people got so into the fray. When I was young, I was a little bit of a radical. (Until I got crazy with all the Black Power madness. My mother shut my little ass down when she heard me using Eldridge Cleaver quotes about the "power of the pussy." She taught me about the power of willow switch on my butt. Good thing. I was the mis-informed kind of radical.)

Anyway...

I have no idea what the heck is going on with Mr. Freeman. Love him as an actor, but I sometimes wonder if he isn't a master asshole. This is the guy who kind of thinks he's God. Really, Morgan? Then why don't you create a world and go live there?

Sorry. I really am trying to stifle the bitch in me. I need to quit reading the news.

Peace

--Free

Crazy Beautiful

My Aunt Johnnie just sent an email with some of the most amazing pics. I have to ask myself why I am so phobic about all these breathtakingly beautiful things, but you all already know I'm a little bit crazy.

Oh, MY gosh! In spite of that huge pool (of water, people!), I covet this house shamelessly. Of course, I'd need a Valium before I went out on one of those sky-high decks, but... LOL! (Am I wrong, though? Is this not just sheer gorgeousness?)

***

When I call this "breath-taking," I'm serious as I can be. I love this picture. If I could, I'd have a huge, framed print of this one. (But all that water... Gives me screaming daymares to think about being within ten feet of it!)

***

Beautiful, right? Yeah, but I'd have to close my eyes and sing "Farmer In The Dell" to survive a drive over it. I figure there's got to be a hotel nearby where I could have a good, safe view...

***

Okay. Here's the deal with me and horses: They are huge and have those big teeth. I hear they can stomp the shit out of you if you get on their bad side. (I will check and see if I ever posted about what happened to me at one of the pony ride setups in the parking lot of a Safeway...) But - good mercy, this is one majestic animal.

***

Hope you enjoyed the pics. I sure did. (I have got to learn to do the reverse search thing so that I can give due photo credit.)

Peace

--Free

Getting, Being And Staying Real

One of the things I am re-learning as I try writing a book is what I first learned when I started blogging: it's hard not to edit out your real self.

We all do a little photoshopping of ourselves everyday. It's a routine, like brushing your teeth, shaving or putting on makeup. I believe every one of us has parts of ourselves that we are afraid to expose. (For the smart asses out there, I am not talking about physical exposure.)

I try to be brave here on the blog. I'm really trying to be brave with the essays I am writing for the book. Some of what is so painful, embarrassing and humiliating for one of us can be helpful for someone else. Maybe they can learn that you can survive almost anything. Maybe they can learn that some things just don't matter after all.

One of the things I have talked about (but probably not deeply or seriously enough) is the verbal and mental abuse I survived in a marriage. That's a hard one. Maybe when I finish surviving it, it will be easier to talk about.  The thing about that situation is that the damage one person does to us cannot be altogether undone by ourselves; we need a little of the healing to come from outside ourselves. I'm getting there.

There are a lot of topics that are tough to address with a straight face. A lot of us would rather make jokes, be hurtful or be as outrageous and shocking as we can imagine. As vulgar and "open" as some people (musicians, artists, actors) want to be, what a lot of them are doing is not really useful to anyone outside themselves. I think it's easier for someone to sing about giving out "the best p_ _ _ y" around (and, yes, that's really in a song) than it is to talk about what's real about love. I think it's easy for someone to cut their hair weird or dress in meat clothing (WTH is that  about) or perform an exorcism as part of a stage show. What's hard is to talk about why we hurt people who are different than we are.

Sometimes there is a meanness that comes with covering up what we feel. I've been mean to hide being vulnerable or confused. (Just go back to some of my older postings.) What I wish is that, in some of those instances, another person would have just confronted me.

I forget where the hell I was going with this post. (I'm going to blame the Sarc, like I always do!) Mainly, I guess I was just thinking about how we need to be kinder and more loving to other people. I might not be tolerant of everything, but I need to look deeper at myself before I condemn anyone else. That's going to take learning to be real and stay real - about me, my feelings, my flaws, my needs and my whole self.

Peace
--Free

Man Down...

(courtesy Clker.com)

Well, actually, it's our internet that's been down. I didn't ask, but I think this makes the third router we've blown through in a year and a half. Really?

Anyway, I am trying to catch up on answering my emails from you guys. And I am trying to write. Of course, I was the "man down" the last couple days. This freaking tooth problem... I hate taking pain meds, so I've been Aleve'd up and wearing ice packs (okay, not ice packs but bags of frozen veggies) on my face. I'm pretty sure this has been good for my complexion! lol

So, folks, I will be back up and running tomorrow. Thanks for checking in on me. You guys don't know how nice that makes me feel.

Peace
--Free

"I Do That Too" (dot com)

If you are the least little bit down or just want to waste a few minutes' time, go over to I DO THAT TOO. It seems to be mostly for and by the younger crowd, so I don't know how juvenile it makes me that I literally sat down and laughed til I almost cried at this one:




It should be called "I've DONE that."

Peace

--Free

Pain & Vanity & Missing Teeth

Sooo.... I went and broke a tooth. A front tooth.

This was not a little chip (I'd done that already and was trying to live with it), but a big ol' can't-miss-it-if-you-tried chunk. I mean, I'm already bucktoothed, do I need to buck-half-toothed?

~sigh~

Let me tell you how that made me just sit down and break into sobs... I mean, I haven't had such a good cry in at least two weeks! No, seriously, though. I really did have a little bit of a meltdown.

I had chipped this tooth some time ago. It was ugly but not horrendous. I was just dealing with it because there are so many more important things going on in the world, right? Okay. So I was used to the chipped tooth. (I'd even got into the habit of running my tongue over it.) Then night before last, I bumped the tooth with a drinking glass. No problem - I just felt clumsy for having trouble finding my mouth. I went to bed and woke up a few hours later to go to the bathroom. Ran my tongue over that tooth and something just felt different. Something was different all right. Where I'd had a little bit of a gap, I now had a space I that could be seen from anywhere in the world. Damn, damn, damnit.

I hardly slept the rest of the night. I was trying to figure out how the hell I broke a tooth while asleep. It's not like I was sleep-drinking or having real boxing matches. What did I do, piss off the tooth fairy?

When everyone was up, I went in to show my sister and that heffa just about fell out of her wheelchair laughing. That was about all I could take. I had a flash-sob attack like you wouldn't believe. It was one of those crying-til-I-couldn't breathe strikes. I mean, I have put up with getting fat and losing my hair and half my mind, but, damn-good-googly, did I need to look like a carjacked chipmunk?

Maybe it was that my breakdown-of-the-week was worse than usual. Probably it was that I looked so pitiful (I'm good at that lately) and UGLY don't forget ugly. Whatever it was, my sis got right on the phone and found a dentist that takes my "insurance" and could get me in first thing the next morning. (She apologized for laughing at me. She said that the minute she'd seen my missing tooth, she'd had a flashback of a "Roseanne" episode where Rosie lost a front tooth. Whatever.)

Anyway. Let me tell you something good: the folks at Glacier Dental are AH-MAY-ZING!! 


I am a big chicken when it comes to pain. Any kind of pain, but I have a special spot on my "Weirdity" shelf for pain with noise. Dentists always use drills. Drills make noise. You can't see exactly where they are using that drill, but you hear it. Man. That just freaks me out.

The dental techs did give me that "laughing gas" and the dentist did numb my mouth before inserting a needle big enough to be a Seattle landmark. They even gave me these shades to wear (to keep water and drill stuff out, I'm sure, but it helped that they couldn't see my tears of fear as well). They were all super nice, but, still - I hate going to the dentist (which is why I was there in the first place).

Now, this is a little bit embarrassing to admit, but it's been a looong time since I've been to a dentist. Back when I had some of the best insurance in the world, my teeth were just fine. When I moved to Arizona, those fillings that the military dentists practiced giving patients were starting to loosen and fall out. Of course, by this time, I had no dental insurance. Still, I wasn't too bad off.  Plus I had other things to worry about, like a mortgage, car note and insurance on that car... Then, while with the man who cannot be my ex soon enough for me, the only insurance I had was called Pray and Hope, and my teeth still weren't as bad as they should have been, But, somehow, in the past three years, my teeth were getting worse and worse. I was losing every filling I had and holes were appearing in my back teeth... ~sigh~

Yesterday, the dentist I saw was the essence of discretion and graciousness. I know this is true because when he looked in my mouth, he did not A) run yelling and screaming from the room or, B) run from the room laughing and wetting himself or C) start lecturing me about how I ended up in his chair. He did not even snicker. He did, however, calmly explain that I needed a root canal for the front tooth, "extractions" of three back teeth and fillings replaced for two (or three, I can't remember) top teeth. I will be damned if I didn't even have a hole or something in a crown I've had for about 12 years. Really, Trudy? Seriously, girl? The shame...

Anyway, I now have a (temporarily) fixed front chopper, three holes where pieces of teeth used to be and a big old hole in the Divorce/Bankrupty/Medical Fund I was just starting to feel good about. Sometimes, I feel like it's a half-step forward and 20 steps back.

(Side note about Glacier Dental: they are having a movie night for patients. If I want, I can attend a viewing of "Spiderman" in 3D next week, How cool is that? I'd even get a small drink and popcorn. That's just such an "Alaskan" thing for a business to do.)

But back to the story. Here's the real kicker: I didn't even know I had dental coverage (it's of a general amount for each year). Now that I know, I have learned that if I had gone in BEFORE July first, I would have been covered under the amount for last year. That way, I could have come back AFTER July first for the crown I'm now having to pay for. Yeah. I feel really, really stupid. On top of everything, I had to cancel attending one of the BFF's birthday smashes at Sea Galley tonight. What a freaking week this has been, right?

Depressed as the spirit behind all this is trying to make me, I'm smiling like a circus freak right now. Why? Because, damnit, I have my front tooth back!

Peace
--Free

Wishes

This has been an interesting week. I've had some good conversations with friends and family - some conversations that surprised me and some that were just so very good to have.

One of those conversations has me doing a lot of thinking. It was with a guy I've grown close to. Men look at things so differently.

My friend celebrated my birthday with me a little late because he was out of town on the actual day. He brought me lunch because I just didn't feel like being out and about (it's this freaking gray sky/trying to rain thing). The gift he gave me was very sweet and interesting - or at least my reaction to it was. Funny that I can still surprise myself.

There was a time not really too long ago that if someone I liked a lot gave me a certain kind of gift, I'd get all analytical about what it meant. (Why this gift? What does it mean? Is he trying to tell me something? How am I supposed to react?) I guess I've either finally grown up or just grown calmer. Whatever it is, I just took the gift as it was. It's just a gift and it's nice and very thoughtful, very me.

My friend was so pleased by my reaction that he shared a "guy thought" with me. He told me that I had apparently learned something that it had taken him longer to learn: relationships are only as complicated as we make them. Ours is not complicated. (Well, it is sometimes, but only when I make it that way.)

Like I said, I thought about our conversation long after it was over. I started to think about how I really have changed. I thought about things I wish I'd known a long time ago.

One thing I wish I had known is that sex is not complicated, but feelings are. Knowing that could have saved me so much heartache and worry and maybe one of my marriages.

I wish I'd known that age has nothing to do with death and dying. Not to make light of it, but any one of us can drop dead at any second - whether newborn, middle-aged or elderly.

I really wish I'd known that some things just don't matter one damn bit. Things like walking around for a couple of hours at work with a poppy seed stuck in your teeth or a booger hanging half out of your nose. And I don't mean that it doesn't matter in that whole "in a thousand years..." way. I mean that if people aren't gracious and empathetic (there's that word again) enough to not make it a big deal, then fuck them.

I wish I'd known to be kinder to people when I was younger. I wasn't always un-kind, but I had my flip, selfish, dismissive and cruel moments - sometimes toward strangers. We just don't know the effect we can have on another person.

I wish I'd realized how much I meant to certain people at certain times. (I once had a girlfriend get married. I was invited to her small, at-home wedding. I was late. She'd held up the ceremony for me to be there. I didn't know how wonderful a gesture that was. I probably took it too lightly.)

I used to lay across my mom's bed and have long talks with her. Sometimes the talks were about nothing and sometimes they were deep and important to one or both of us. I wish I'd told Mom more of my secrets. I told her a lot, but not everything.

There is one wish that I could possibly make come true. I wish I could go back to some of the people who are/were in my life and tell them some things. I'd like to apologize to some of those people, thank some of them, hug some of them. I probably won't ever do this, so does that make it not a real wish?

I am learning from my wishes. I am trying to do more now so that I don't have to wish for later on. (I refuse to use the word "regret" because that would mean we all should be born not quite human and full of mistakes. Mistakes are part of living and make our moving from moment to moment real and interesting. Hope that made sense.)

There are so many things that I'm glad for that I can live with all those "wishes." I'm so glad for the people I know and love. I'm glad for the relationships I got right. I'm glad for today. I'm really glad that I got to see this age of 51, even though when I was 21 and 31 and even 41, I didn't even want to imagine being 50-anything. I'm damn glad that, so far, my 50's are not half bad. Not really bad at all.

I am 51 and happy most times because when I look up at the sky I still think, "Wow." Hell, I'm glad I'm still here to think it.

I'm glad I still giggle, snicker, laugh too loud and flirt and crush and have girlfriends and like junk food and love music and dream dreams and have hopes and want things and fuck up and fuck around and go ga-ga over babies and cry about weddings and movies and want to do crazy things with my hair and sit in the sun and have deep conversations about stupid stuff and have places I still want to go and things I still want to do and see and taste and feel and know about.

I'm still so glad to be alive and I sure hope God is listening.

Peace
--Free

Measuring Joy

I was up really early on my birthday, just thinking, thinking and thinking - like I guess everyone does on birthdays, anniversaries and some holidays. Nora Ephron had just passed and I had gone and re-read some of her essays and other musings. I was touched by the advice she gave to younger women and kind of amused by (but in disagreement with) some of what she had to say about aging. Thinking of her and other women who lived uniquely, or fully, I got to wondering about what it means to live fully. What I came up with is, it's not about having a busy or fabulous career or family or adventures. It's about personal and individual pleasures and contentments. It's about joy, or at least, that's what I believe.

So then, what is joy, and how do you measure it your joy?

Can't measure it by the money you have. Money is too easy to lose. Money buys things that can deceive you: power but not respect, respect but not love, fear but hatred... It goes on and on. Money is only as good as the person who has it.

You can't measure joy by the number of friends you have. Friends are as flawed as you are. If friends were the complete foundation of an individual's joy, then there'd be no despair or grief or suicide of a person with friends. Friends are pieces of joy, not the finished puzzle.

Joy isn't what you look like, who you love or who loves you. It's not sex or food or good music or theater.

Maybe joy is that thing that is only indescribably sensed - not by sight or touch or sound or taste or smell. Maybe it is a sense itself, except real and whole, like God. It exists and always has. It seems to be without a known beginning, like creation itself, but given a beginning, like the first breath to an infant.

I have joy just as I have faith. They are, I think, very alike.

And... R.I.P. Nora Ephron

Peace
--Free

Older & Almost Wiser

I am getting all ready to celebrate this birthday of mine tomorrow & I have decided to be "okay" with it. LOL

My sis and I were playing around today with my clothes and makeup. She wants two things: for me to actually give a damn about what I'm wearing and to start wearing makeup. (You'd think it was her freaking birthday, huh?)

Anyway.

I have to agree with her about the clothes. It's just so dang hard to feel pretty and comfortable while I'm packing round these extra pounds. (Don't like going to the doc's, but I will be one happy black chick come this next appointment. Maybe I will actually be able to get off this Prednisone and onto something that won't have me looking like a chocolate Oompa Loompa.)

So, okay, I am going to embrace the larger me while I have to. I will NOT wear anymore drab colors, baggy tops and shapeless sweatpants. I will NOT try to hide this glorious extra me under anything that I wouldn't have worn when I was smaller. (Let's hope we can get this Prednisone alternative going on!)

Now, this thing about the makeup? Ummmm... I don't know about that one. I'm not good with makeup. One, I'm kinda lazy (as in it takes me about an extra 15 to 20 minutes of getting ready to be seen by anyone who gives a damn). Two, I'm kinda clumsy (as in I once just about put out my left eye with an eyeliner stick). Three, that crap gets all over everything you touch (as in I can't just scratch my face and then touch anything else without leaving fingerprints). How the hell do the real chi-chi chicks handle this stuff?

But I am going to try. I promised my sister. She says it will make me feel prettier and not as old. (By the way, as I've told her: I am not old. 51 is just a bit more seasoned than 25. Old is what you feel. I'm maybe... twenty-one? Hahaha!)

Here are the pre-makeup pics. When I get "makeup" pics tomorrow, I will try to get them posted:

The crazy hair is from that freaking Keratin crap!!!

I can't control the hair. Impossible. I gave up.
At least it's still growing back.

Do I look happy? I don't look happy, do I? Actually, I was pretty happy. I'm excited about lunch tomorrow. It's going to definitely be four of us physically there - me, sis, one of the nephews (if he doesn't get called in to work like everyone else) and one of the two local BFF's. Some are going to be at the family "home" dinner later on. The others are going to Skype in (if we can figure out how to pull it off in a restaurant) or phone in (at least for the song part) and, you know - all the love will be felt. Oh!! And did I mention that it's going to be at the Olive Garden? Yep. We finally got one up here. (I know that it's not in the Michelin Guide, you snobs, but I'm not that kinda gal. I'm more of a Guy Fieri type lady. You know, Guy of  "Diner's Drive-ins and Dives" fame? Yeah, I said it. )

I am a little bummed because one of my nieces "Cat" and her husband "Poka" -and those are just stage names, folks - came when they could take off from day jobs, stayed 10 days, and had to leave last Sunday. (At least they got to meet their godson, D.J.) To make it even a little sadder, Cat's birthday was on the 9th, just before she got here... Still, we are all blessed to be here at all. I have to remind myself what happened after my last birthday: having a margarita and strutting my stuff one moment and meeting all kinds of new doctors the next. Yeah. Living beats hell out of the alternative.

Exactly 1yr ago tomorrow. How the hell many pounds & doc visits ago was this?

Like I started this rambling post out with: I have decided to be okay with this getting older business (since I didn't get okay with it by 45, right?). Every time I want to be pissed at my marriage falling apart, this illness, the meds, the topsy-turvy life I'm now living, I stop and think about the folks who didn't wake up to see this day, and I just say, "Thank You, Jesus." I should be thanking Him as much as I complain about my weight. (Lucky He doesn't smack my ungrateful behind with a thunderbolt...)

By the way, BFF ("local B") is turning 40 just 5 days after tomorrow, so, yeah, life is okay enough. This birthday is going to be a good one. A good year, a good rest of my life, a good new beginning.

Happy freaking birthday to me (if the Lord let me live to tell). And if it's not your birthday tomorrow, celebrate anyway. 

Peace

--Free

Sympathy, Empathy & Love

(It's raining here - again - and I'm in no mood for human company so Kita Kat & I are hanging out, having some deep thoughts. How ironic is this post subject considering I'm not in the mood for humans?)

###

With the way people are acting these days - heartless, crazy, totally immoral - I've been examining my own heart and soul. I do this every now and then because my mother taught me to. I had to be a teenager when she first gave me the talk about being more than someone breathing up the air in the world. It's important, she used to tell me, to take a good look at yourself every now and then. Need to make sure you're all right with God, self and others. Need to make sure you haven't forgotten to be a decent human, planet co-resident and all that. 

A part of being decent (according to my mother, and therefore according to me) is to have sympathy, empathy and love.  Each has their own place in a heart that's not frozen solid with selfishness.

Sympathy is defined in many ways, but it comes from a Latin word meaning "to have common feelings." (And, yes, I had to look that up once.)

It's easy to have sympathy without having a heart for others. We all have common feelings about being broke or pissed off or in love. My having a feeling in common with yours does not have to mean that I give a damn about you.

I am too lazy to look up "Empathy," but I have always considered myself an empath (whether it's a word or not), so I'll give you Free's definition: to feel with another person. That's it. I love being an empath and I hate being an empath. I love that it can give you a joy that you might have missed out on. I hate that it also can hurt. It can pull you into and under the weight of someone else's misery. (Do I wish to lose my ability to empathize? Nope.  I don't think I could live without it. It is what Christians were taught by Christ. He came, not just to die for us, but to feel as we feel. But that's for me and my beliefs. You have your own to deal with.)

Love is defined all over the place, but is (for me, at least) still undefinable. The word itself comes from Latin for "to please." That makes sense. Love is what it is to each individual. "To please" me is different from pleasing the next or other person. (I really hope this is all making some sort of sense.)

I don't think it matters how we define anything as long as we keep the essence of what it means to care enough. I don't sympathize for, empathize with or love everyone. (There are moments when I can't stand myself.) But I do care. My mother taught me that.

Peace

--Free