Hi there and welcome to the HOME page of
My Wandering Mind.
You will find me here, oh, I'm JO! Hi, *waving* and *smiling*, a couple times a week. Now, in the summer months I may be absent often because the sun and the warm pulls me outside and I find other things to occupy my hands and my mind. Writing does take a backseat until early fall.
I add something three times a week or more if I can't comfortably be outside without a coat. That's my guide for outdoor activity, if it requires a coat, I'm not playing.
Sometimes I write about my family. I would write about my friends if I had any. I make up people to write about quite often. And I LOVE writing about myself. ;-) ♥
If you're interested, I have books on Kindle and nook.
1) The Island Princess...the story of a girl I knew online for over 3 years and never met. Her life was inspirational to me and I tell her story with all the love I felt for her.
(currently off line for rewrite.)
2) Beautiful Betsy...purely fiction and it tells the story of Betsy's life from before her conception until her first grand child is born. This one takes place in Durand, Michigan. What a coincidence! I live in Durand! Wow, weird.
3) Summer in Martinstown is all about the Brady's who live in Georgia and we follow them through one summer of their lives. Some very high moments and some very difficult times. This one begs for a follow-up, but I haven't been in the mood for a Georgia visit since I finished it, so not yet.
I do not blog about those books. But the audio versions of them are available →→→→→→→
over there. Just in case you're traveling and want a nice read.
I am 63 and married to a really good guy. He is talking retirement this Christmas and I hope he does. I retired a few years ago from hairdressing and haven't looked back. I loved my job and it was good to me for many years, but retirement is my life now.
We have 9 grand daughters and 1 grandson and my momma lives 2 miles from us in a lovely little apartment. I am her taxi and I really enjoy spending time with her. October 2012 she turned 90 and is in really good health. We are so lucky in so many ways.
Did I mention that I have won many beauty contests? NO? Probably because I haven't. I hardly ever lie, so that's why I didn't say that, probably.
That's it....find some title over there that might interest you and clickity click away!
Feel free and some moderate pressure to comment after reading. I would hold a grudge, but I can't remember long enough for that to be effective.
Lovely meeting you...btw....Jo ♥
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query What Is this Blog About Jo. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query What Is this Blog About Jo. Sort by date Show all posts
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Political Posts Will Kill Your Reading Stats
Yep, that is quite
possibly true, but it is also quite possibly a chicken's way of not taking a
stand. I have never posted a blog about politics except to say that I
wish people would be more respectful of each other when they disagree. I still
feel strongly about that. I also feel strongly about all the people who
constantly post memes they copy and paste without checking their validity. I
also feel strongly about people who think their thoughts are the only valid ones
and everyone else is just plain stupid for not agreeing.
My tolerance for that kind of thinking is zero. I have very
strong political views and I am not stupid. The mere fact that you disagree
with my views does not make you stupid, either. It makes you different than me.
That's all. Just different.
The one thing I will
state openly and often is that whoever is currently sitting, or who has
previously held the office of President of the United States, will get my
respect and I will not speak harshly of them. They are or were MY President and
the office alone, the fact that the majority of my fellow Americans voted for
and thereby elected them to office is enough to earn and hold my respect. I may
or may not like the actions they take or the inaction they missed, but I will
respect and speak respectfully about them. This is so missing from our society
today and I think the internet is partially to blame for this. It's much easier
to be disrespectful by typing and putting it out there with no face to face ~
even with the people you are calling stupid and uninformed.
I will not do that now
nor will I do that in the future. I will type exactly what I would say to your
face and I will consider all of your comments as your replies to my words.
Isn't that a fair and balanced way to handle political differences? As a
side note, it might even be beneficial to each of us to actually read (listen)
to each other with an open mind. There could be some truths we hadn't
considered. Or there could be just a bunch more "talking" points
reiterated from some web site put up by the supporting group of the republicans
or the democrats. That will gain neither of us anything. But it could happen,
nonetheless.
I am basically a
liberal. I believe we are our brother's keepers. I therefore, generally fall to
the Democratic candidate based on the history of the Democratic party being
more likely to provide for people who need help and expecting those of us who
can financially do so, to help in a fair way to give those who need what they
need. I wish churches and charities could do it all, but they aren't able, so
yes, I believe our governments, both state and federal, should provide basic
human needs to anyone who temporarily or permanently needs a hand up. Yes, I am
that person who still feels like people of the United States should not live in
squalor and should not go to bed hungry. They should not be homeless, without
choice. I believe I should pay enough taxes to make that happen. I am willing
to pay for federal and state programs to ensure our citizens live a decent life
and are able to acquire a job that they are able to perform. Training should be
available at no cost to those who need it to secure such a job. I am willing to
fund this proportionately to my income.
I am fully in favor of
making certain social security payments are available to all who pay into the
fund. I am fine with spousal benefits for widows and widowers who shared the
life of a working productive person who paid into the SS fund during their
working years. I am in favor of this program and a payment being based on
the amount the worker has paid in over their lifetime. I am in favor of taking
care of our seniors who have given most of their lives and upon reaching age 62
wish to retire and collect their Social Security Insurance.
They are entitled to
this program and these payments. Have a fit, if you like, about these being
called entitlements and deciding that means a free handout, but know this
before you stroke out about that wording,
entitle: n, v
1) give just claim or
right,
give a title to,
allow, permit;
make eligible, qualify; authorize, empower.
2) name, call
This is according to
Webster.
And dictionary.com says
2. the state of being entitled.
3. the right to guaranteed benefits under a government program, as Social
Security or unemployment compensation
So...my take on this big controversy is like so many other
things. It is just a HOT SPOT phrase with NO basis for truth.
Social Security and Medicare are entitlements! They are
programs we are entitled to because we are CLAIMING our own money which the
government has been holding for us in trust.
STOP BEING OUTRAGED ABOUT THE USE OF THAT PHRASE....IT IS
ACCURATE.
So now my question is ~ which candidate will most likely give me
the country I want to live in?
My answer is Barack Obama with the help of a congress dedicated
to getting things done. I am voting against every incumbent that is
up for re-election on the Rep side of the ticket. I am looking for
congressional support with enough condescending opinions to equate to good,
solid results. I don't want a bunch of "yes" men, I want men and
women who will give good serious thought to issues and choose what is right and
best for their constituents. We don't have that now. We have an entire block of
congressional republicans voting to keep Obama to one term. Politics over
people. Cannot continue.
Gov. Romney speaks often of not growing up privileged. I'm
sorry, compared to my life, he was very privileged. He may have given away
his inheritance from his father, but not before he used the money
from the stocks his father gave him to achieve his college degree and support
his wife and children. He used the money his father gave him in the form of
stocks for years and was never in jeopardy of not being able to feed his family
or pay a bill. Compared to me and most of my friends, that is privileged. So I
find it hard to imagine he could ever imagine life without enough food, without
enough money for the utility company and having the heat shut off in winter or
the pills you need to stay alive not being purchased because the rent is due.
Owning a home is out of the question for many people now, it was never out of
the question for the Romney's. How can anyone expect him to have any notion of
what we are really living without here in the heartland. I can't imagine never
having to even give these things a second thought, so I can't expect the
Romney's to get my life style either.
I DO expect the Obama's to get it. They lived it. They were
without money and worked to pay off student loans, their parents did not give
them stocks to draw interest and dividends from to pay for their expenses. They
do get what is going on here and they also care. I'm not convinced by Romney's
plan that he cares so much about us as he cares about keeping a Republican
congress to support his trickledown economics plan moving forward. It has never
worked and isn't economically sound.
Quoting Clinton...”it's arithmetic.” It doesn't work and way too
many details are missing. We have a month left and I am looking at my absentee
ballot right in front of me, now. I am ready after the debate last night to
announce Romney did not win that debate, because he didn't tell me anything new
or anything that made sense to me concerning my social security, future Medicare
or tax improvements. My health insurance is a main concern to me and he says
give it back to the states. My state is in big, big financial trouble and it
can't afford to help me out with insurance. And it won't help me anyway; we
have a Republican Governor who believes everyone can have insurance, if they
want it.
Very long...sorry....you probably checked out a long time
ago....but I'm done now and I'm listening. The floor belongs to you....be
kind.
Just so you know, if you leave a rude or hateful comment, I will
delete it.
Jo
Friday, November 30, 2012
DESTINY
This week's Writer's Post Blog Hop is hosted by Suzy at Someday Somewhere
!-- start LinkyTools script -->
And here is my take on this one....
What is her destiny? She sits and she thinks and she allows a dream or two to jump in and float around inside her mind. It's fun to dream a bit about how her life might be one day. It's fun, but it's not productive. Those who know her, know productive is important. There is little sense in doing anything if nothing is to be achieved by doing so. Will it make her money? Will it add to her knowledge bank? Will it give her a new contact? If it adds nothing to any of those areas, there is probably no need to go forward. Still, now and then she does indulge in a fit of dreaming.
The job she covets is the buyer for a local fashion forward ladies clothier. She holds a graduate degree in fashion design and is currently working as a designer for a smaller family owned ladies fashion store in a nearby town. It isn't what she wants. She isn't fulfilled, but her bills are being paid and her work is adored by the shoppers and the store owners. They value her talent, her personality and her loyalty. That's the problem. They value her loyalty. Truth is, she doesn't feel any loyalty. She wants the BIG job and they don't even have a buyer. One of the owners of the shop goes to the fashion shows. Makes notes and sketches and returns to her to make them her own and consequently, unique designs from this shop only. They make a fortune on her back and she is compensated at what she feels is a pittance. For a larger business or working for a designer, she would make double or maybe triple what she is making, but she has total freedom here and her work is always turned into reality. They do NOT reject her work, EVER. In the fashion world, that is not normal and she would be throwing away as many designs as she sees completed.
In her dreams she is that buyer who goes to the shows. Admires the designers work and knows quality over trendy crap and makes excellent decisions for her employers and everyone makes big bucks. She dresses in the latest styles 24/7 and she always knows what's 'in' and what's 'out'. Her dream life is a much more luxurious existence and there is no time for romance or friendships. Her nature is that of a loner and with such an exciting and glamorous position, she would relish her down time.
Today she will go to the office in the back of the shop and create another three to five pieces to mix and match with the pants and skirts she had designed yesterday. Tomorrow she would choose the fabrics for each and then send them off to the seamstresses to await their initial offerings.
This is her life. Every two to three days, she designs. She selects the fabrics and they sew. She inspects, makes changes and they sew and she inspects. Usually they don't have a third round, but it has happened. Generally, the pieces will end up on the floor within a month of her sketches first appearance. It's an amazingly fast turn around and unheard of in the fashion industry.
Her real life is so good and so satisfying, but that dream feels like her destiny. She really never wanted to be a designer, though she is very good at it. Her destiny has always been at the shows, seeing, judging, deciding and placing orders for ladies of a certain financial health. Ladies who want one of a kind dresses. One of a kind everything would fill their closets and her destiny was surely to make those selections for ladies who don't even know what they like until someone like her tells them.
And then...
The owner of her shop came into the office where she designs. Sitting on the stool just adjacent to the drawing board, THE offer came to her. "Would you consider making a change? I mean is designing what you want to do with the rest of your life?"
"Hell, no!", her heart cried, but her mouth said, "Well, that would depend on the change." Heart beating out of her chest, fearing this might not be good news at all, praying it was.
"We just finished up a big meeting. The board has decided to step up our business in a big way. It's time for us to stop sewing and start buying, but, and this is a big but, only if YOU would be interested in taking the lead on the change over."
Oh, my gosh! Could she have heard this correctly? They want her to buy for THEM? Was destiny knocking? Was the fancy dancy store out of her equation? What to do?
"May I give it some thought? I would like to either see your plan or if there isn't one, work on one myself. I would need to have much more information to make this decision, but I am most definitely interested in pursuing the idea. Is that okay?" She was hardly breathing. Her heart was pounding so loudly it was difficult to form a clear thought, but she felt it, oh, she felt the destiny bell ringing in her head. Yes, she would be taking this idea and she would be elevating her shop to a clothier of distinction and also elevating her own status in life both professionally and financially. They would not get this experienced designer/buyer cheaply and she already knew they knew that.
"The plan is yours to create. We all bow to your expertise in this area and when you have completed it, you will present it to the board along with your compensation requirements and then we'll put it in motion; if it's acceptable, we're in the business of buying and retailing couture clothing. And YOU are the head buyer. We will be moving our sewers into new positions of merchandising and sales. No job losses and we will also be carrying "rack" clothing, which you will also buy from wholesalers."
Destiny has indeed called her to answer. "YES" she said a little too loudly. "I'll start working on the business plan tomorrow. Now, I'd like very much to take the rest of today off. I have a lot of processing to do and the designs for the seamstresses are done and ready for them to begin. We will need this line to fill until I can actually do some buying. Is that okay?"
Laughter, "It is fine. In fact, I will not be setting your hours nor your schedule from this moment forward. YOU are in control of your position. You will do what you need to do to get the job done. I would ask only that you give me a calendar each month with your schedule. That's it. I will not be changing or judging your schedule, just want to be aware of what you are doing and where you are doing it." She rose from her stool and turned to leave the room. Over her shoulder she added, "I am so happy we are finally in this position and it's all because of the hard work you have done for us these past 3 years. Thank you and congratulations. You've earned this."
The silence in the office was unbearable. She needed to get air. She needed to walk and accept this whole change and believe it was real. Destiny. Finally. Peace. Contentment. Not even a moment of hesitation.
Jo
!-- start LinkyTools script -->
And here is my take on this one....
What is her destiny? She sits and she thinks and she allows a dream or two to jump in and float around inside her mind. It's fun to dream a bit about how her life might be one day. It's fun, but it's not productive. Those who know her, know productive is important. There is little sense in doing anything if nothing is to be achieved by doing so. Will it make her money? Will it add to her knowledge bank? Will it give her a new contact? If it adds nothing to any of those areas, there is probably no need to go forward. Still, now and then she does indulge in a fit of dreaming.
The job she covets is the buyer for a local fashion forward ladies clothier. She holds a graduate degree in fashion design and is currently working as a designer for a smaller family owned ladies fashion store in a nearby town. It isn't what she wants. She isn't fulfilled, but her bills are being paid and her work is adored by the shoppers and the store owners. They value her talent, her personality and her loyalty. That's the problem. They value her loyalty. Truth is, she doesn't feel any loyalty. She wants the BIG job and they don't even have a buyer. One of the owners of the shop goes to the fashion shows. Makes notes and sketches and returns to her to make them her own and consequently, unique designs from this shop only. They make a fortune on her back and she is compensated at what she feels is a pittance. For a larger business or working for a designer, she would make double or maybe triple what she is making, but she has total freedom here and her work is always turned into reality. They do NOT reject her work, EVER. In the fashion world, that is not normal and she would be throwing away as many designs as she sees completed.
In her dreams she is that buyer who goes to the shows. Admires the designers work and knows quality over trendy crap and makes excellent decisions for her employers and everyone makes big bucks. She dresses in the latest styles 24/7 and she always knows what's 'in' and what's 'out'. Her dream life is a much more luxurious existence and there is no time for romance or friendships. Her nature is that of a loner and with such an exciting and glamorous position, she would relish her down time.
Today she will go to the office in the back of the shop and create another three to five pieces to mix and match with the pants and skirts she had designed yesterday. Tomorrow she would choose the fabrics for each and then send them off to the seamstresses to await their initial offerings.
This is her life. Every two to three days, she designs. She selects the fabrics and they sew. She inspects, makes changes and they sew and she inspects. Usually they don't have a third round, but it has happened. Generally, the pieces will end up on the floor within a month of her sketches first appearance. It's an amazingly fast turn around and unheard of in the fashion industry.
Her real life is so good and so satisfying, but that dream feels like her destiny. She really never wanted to be a designer, though she is very good at it. Her destiny has always been at the shows, seeing, judging, deciding and placing orders for ladies of a certain financial health. Ladies who want one of a kind dresses. One of a kind everything would fill their closets and her destiny was surely to make those selections for ladies who don't even know what they like until someone like her tells them.
And then...
The owner of her shop came into the office where she designs. Sitting on the stool just adjacent to the drawing board, THE offer came to her. "Would you consider making a change? I mean is designing what you want to do with the rest of your life?"
"Hell, no!", her heart cried, but her mouth said, "Well, that would depend on the change." Heart beating out of her chest, fearing this might not be good news at all, praying it was.
"We just finished up a big meeting. The board has decided to step up our business in a big way. It's time for us to stop sewing and start buying, but, and this is a big but, only if YOU would be interested in taking the lead on the change over."
Oh, my gosh! Could she have heard this correctly? They want her to buy for THEM? Was destiny knocking? Was the fancy dancy store out of her equation? What to do?
"May I give it some thought? I would like to either see your plan or if there isn't one, work on one myself. I would need to have much more information to make this decision, but I am most definitely interested in pursuing the idea. Is that okay?" She was hardly breathing. Her heart was pounding so loudly it was difficult to form a clear thought, but she felt it, oh, she felt the destiny bell ringing in her head. Yes, she would be taking this idea and she would be elevating her shop to a clothier of distinction and also elevating her own status in life both professionally and financially. They would not get this experienced designer/buyer cheaply and she already knew they knew that.
"The plan is yours to create. We all bow to your expertise in this area and when you have completed it, you will present it to the board along with your compensation requirements and then we'll put it in motion; if it's acceptable, we're in the business of buying and retailing couture clothing. And YOU are the head buyer. We will be moving our sewers into new positions of merchandising and sales. No job losses and we will also be carrying "rack" clothing, which you will also buy from wholesalers."
Destiny has indeed called her to answer. "YES" she said a little too loudly. "I'll start working on the business plan tomorrow. Now, I'd like very much to take the rest of today off. I have a lot of processing to do and the designs for the seamstresses are done and ready for them to begin. We will need this line to fill until I can actually do some buying. Is that okay?"
Laughter, "It is fine. In fact, I will not be setting your hours nor your schedule from this moment forward. YOU are in control of your position. You will do what you need to do to get the job done. I would ask only that you give me a calendar each month with your schedule. That's it. I will not be changing or judging your schedule, just want to be aware of what you are doing and where you are doing it." She rose from her stool and turned to leave the room. Over her shoulder she added, "I am so happy we are finally in this position and it's all because of the hard work you have done for us these past 3 years. Thank you and congratulations. You've earned this."
The silence in the office was unbearable. She needed to get air. She needed to walk and accept this whole change and believe it was real. Destiny. Finally. Peace. Contentment. Not even a moment of hesitation.
Jo
Saturday, July 14, 2012
BELIEVE ~ SOMETHING
I am inspired here to write about believing in something, more particularly something bigger than you and me. My own spirituality is defined and definite. I know what I believe and I know what I doubt. I do not know what is factual and what is not. I will not know that until the end of my life on earth which could be the end period or it could be the beginning of eternity.
Heaven? Hell? I believe Heaven is your reward for your life on earth. I do believe you will encounter loved ones and friends who have gone before. I do believe you are judged by God and you must answer for whatever He finds you failing. I also believe in forgiveness and that once judged, you will be forgiven if you are regretful and seek forgiveness. I also believe the Devil wins some souls and Hell awaits them as their reward. Those who shun God, accept the Devil, will share eternity with that.
When I talk of my beliefs, MY beliefs, there is no argument with anyone about them because they are what I believe and no one can argue with what I believe. I never state my beliefs as facts. I never ask the listener or the reader to accept them as their own. I simply am telling you what I believe. I am telling you how I live day to day in peace and relative happiness. I am telling you why I don't attend church, not why you shouldn't. It is just a sharing of my own beliefs and done so with the hope you will understand me a little better. If that is not something you want to do, then by all means, clickity click outta here now and no hard feelings. One of my biggest and strongest beliefs is that you are entitled to your own values and your own beliefs. None of my concern, really, but I would read about yours if you posted them. Just to know you better.
I ask only that no one feels compelled to start a big argument in the comments section about how ridiculous they think my beliefs might be or leave me quotes from the Bible disproving my beliefs. Otherwise, say what you want and be respectful as I will be in return.
Steven Clark is my inspiration for this blog. He is a fellow writer and recovering addict. I love his writings and his strength through addiction. No one I have known personally has kicked addiction without some sort of relapse and the right helping hand is a factor for most. That hand is not always the 12 step programs, but it can be, it is sometimes someone who just said the right thing at the right time or one on one therapy with someone who knew how to lead the addict through the tough days and nights. Point is, every hand reaching out to help is a possible key to success. I have tried to explain to Steven how to believe, if you don't. That is a difficult concept and here, I am just going to explain my beliefs and hope he will find something in there to inspire him. I am not trying to tell Steven Clark WHAT to believe, only hoping it will inspire some desire TO believe in something greater than himself.
I was raised in the Methodist church. I have spent a good deal of time in the Catholic church. Considered once joining that one. Being told I would have to annul my first marriage was the deal breaker. My first marriage was in church, I swore before God and the witnesses etc, so annulling it and making the 10 years I lived with the father of my children, a man I loved very much, null and void, was unthinkable to me. Formality or not, I would not do that. Those 10 years existed and were real and not void. The second reason I didn't follow through was the reading of "the word of God." More on that later.
Having said all of that, I am now associated with no religion. I cannot identify any group that would make my faith any stronger, any better or any more real than it is. My faith is between me and God. For me, He is real; He is constant; He is omnipresent; He is in me. Always IN me. He hears every thought and He sees every action. He reaches out to me when I need His guidance and ask for it and He knows my gratitude for all the gifts He has given. He knows my heartache, He knows my joy and He shares those. He loves me unconditionally even when I fail to do the same. My God is forgiving and loving and constant. All things I strive toward. All things I fail to obtain. All things I hold dear and shall work on all the days of my life.
The Bible, I believe, is a book. That's all. A very interesting book with thousands of interesting stories written by thousands of people over thousands of years. It has been translated millions of times by as many hands. From one language to another from one time to another. Now being read here in the USA by many people in a modern language so as to be understood more easily and read by more people with less strain to understand. Understand the new words by the new translator. My point, it contains a lot of good advice. It has moral stories and explains how faith will lift you up and it is a GOOD BOOK. I do not, however, believe it is the word of God. It is the words of many men who believed they were hearing or seeing the word or the works of God and they are telling their stories. The stories of Jesus were told by many, I like reading them. I read them as men telling of their adventures with this Carpenter from Jerusalem who came to us as the son of God. I certainly believe in Jesus, he certainly existed and I choose to accept that he was the chosen one. He was given to Mary, the virgin, so as no suspicion could be in her own mind as to how precious this gift of hers was. Hers was the womb He chose. No one, no one, but Mary knew she was a virgin. Others just believed. Faith requires you accept some things without proof. I choose to accept this one.
I do believe Jesus lived his life spreading the word of his father to all who would hear. I just don't know that the stories of the Bible are exactly as they happened or even exactly as those men told them. Translators have to use different words when none exist so their meanings may or may not be accurate. I choose to think it's safer and more accurate to believe in God on a personal and intimate level and live with Him inside of me than to hang onto a book which often contradicts itself.
For me, faith and God are everyday all day long facts of life. I live with Him all around me, with me and helping me along this path. I never doubt, I never wonder, I do forget now and then to be thankful, but I remedy that asap. I believe he forgives me for being human because he made me to have faults and weaknesses so that I might remember to look up and say, "thanks" and continue on my way. I am enveloped in God's love and His forgiveness and His unfailing faith in me. I am a child of God, a student of God and a faithful and sinning worshiper of God.
Asking someone to believe in a Master of the Universe or a Universal Power or God is not for me to do. I am here simply and straightforwardly to say that I believe and all it takes is a little thought and a look around your world to realize it had to be created somewhere. There had to be a beginning at some point. The Genesis according to the Bible or any other genesis you might choose to fit your life, but in my head it's a simple fact that God did create and now oversees His work lovingly. Sadly. Hopefully. Endlessly.
My question would be, "How can you not believe in something bigger than you and me?"
Jo
Suggested reading for some inspiration or entertainment...
A series by Neale Donald Walsh
Conversations with God
*an uncommon dialogue*
Heaven? Hell? I believe Heaven is your reward for your life on earth. I do believe you will encounter loved ones and friends who have gone before. I do believe you are judged by God and you must answer for whatever He finds you failing. I also believe in forgiveness and that once judged, you will be forgiven if you are regretful and seek forgiveness. I also believe the Devil wins some souls and Hell awaits them as their reward. Those who shun God, accept the Devil, will share eternity with that.
When I talk of my beliefs, MY beliefs, there is no argument with anyone about them because they are what I believe and no one can argue with what I believe. I never state my beliefs as facts. I never ask the listener or the reader to accept them as their own. I simply am telling you what I believe. I am telling you how I live day to day in peace and relative happiness. I am telling you why I don't attend church, not why you shouldn't. It is just a sharing of my own beliefs and done so with the hope you will understand me a little better. If that is not something you want to do, then by all means, clickity click outta here now and no hard feelings. One of my biggest and strongest beliefs is that you are entitled to your own values and your own beliefs. None of my concern, really, but I would read about yours if you posted them. Just to know you better.
I ask only that no one feels compelled to start a big argument in the comments section about how ridiculous they think my beliefs might be or leave me quotes from the Bible disproving my beliefs. Otherwise, say what you want and be respectful as I will be in return.
Steven Clark is my inspiration for this blog. He is a fellow writer and recovering addict. I love his writings and his strength through addiction. No one I have known personally has kicked addiction without some sort of relapse and the right helping hand is a factor for most. That hand is not always the 12 step programs, but it can be, it is sometimes someone who just said the right thing at the right time or one on one therapy with someone who knew how to lead the addict through the tough days and nights. Point is, every hand reaching out to help is a possible key to success. I have tried to explain to Steven how to believe, if you don't. That is a difficult concept and here, I am just going to explain my beliefs and hope he will find something in there to inspire him. I am not trying to tell Steven Clark WHAT to believe, only hoping it will inspire some desire TO believe in something greater than himself.
I was raised in the Methodist church. I have spent a good deal of time in the Catholic church. Considered once joining that one. Being told I would have to annul my first marriage was the deal breaker. My first marriage was in church, I swore before God and the witnesses etc, so annulling it and making the 10 years I lived with the father of my children, a man I loved very much, null and void, was unthinkable to me. Formality or not, I would not do that. Those 10 years existed and were real and not void. The second reason I didn't follow through was the reading of "the word of God." More on that later.
Having said all of that, I am now associated with no religion. I cannot identify any group that would make my faith any stronger, any better or any more real than it is. My faith is between me and God. For me, He is real; He is constant; He is omnipresent; He is in me. Always IN me. He hears every thought and He sees every action. He reaches out to me when I need His guidance and ask for it and He knows my gratitude for all the gifts He has given. He knows my heartache, He knows my joy and He shares those. He loves me unconditionally even when I fail to do the same. My God is forgiving and loving and constant. All things I strive toward. All things I fail to obtain. All things I hold dear and shall work on all the days of my life.
The Bible, I believe, is a book. That's all. A very interesting book with thousands of interesting stories written by thousands of people over thousands of years. It has been translated millions of times by as many hands. From one language to another from one time to another. Now being read here in the USA by many people in a modern language so as to be understood more easily and read by more people with less strain to understand. Understand the new words by the new translator. My point, it contains a lot of good advice. It has moral stories and explains how faith will lift you up and it is a GOOD BOOK. I do not, however, believe it is the word of God. It is the words of many men who believed they were hearing or seeing the word or the works of God and they are telling their stories. The stories of Jesus were told by many, I like reading them. I read them as men telling of their adventures with this Carpenter from Jerusalem who came to us as the son of God. I certainly believe in Jesus, he certainly existed and I choose to accept that he was the chosen one. He was given to Mary, the virgin, so as no suspicion could be in her own mind as to how precious this gift of hers was. Hers was the womb He chose. No one, no one, but Mary knew she was a virgin. Others just believed. Faith requires you accept some things without proof. I choose to accept this one.
I do believe Jesus lived his life spreading the word of his father to all who would hear. I just don't know that the stories of the Bible are exactly as they happened or even exactly as those men told them. Translators have to use different words when none exist so their meanings may or may not be accurate. I choose to think it's safer and more accurate to believe in God on a personal and intimate level and live with Him inside of me than to hang onto a book which often contradicts itself.
For me, faith and God are everyday all day long facts of life. I live with Him all around me, with me and helping me along this path. I never doubt, I never wonder, I do forget now and then to be thankful, but I remedy that asap. I believe he forgives me for being human because he made me to have faults and weaknesses so that I might remember to look up and say, "thanks" and continue on my way. I am enveloped in God's love and His forgiveness and His unfailing faith in me. I am a child of God, a student of God and a faithful and sinning worshiper of God.
Asking someone to believe in a Master of the Universe or a Universal Power or God is not for me to do. I am here simply and straightforwardly to say that I believe and all it takes is a little thought and a look around your world to realize it had to be created somewhere. There had to be a beginning at some point. The Genesis according to the Bible or any other genesis you might choose to fit your life, but in my head it's a simple fact that God did create and now oversees His work lovingly. Sadly. Hopefully. Endlessly.
My question would be, "How can you not believe in something bigger than you and me?"
Jo
Suggested reading for some inspiration or entertainment...
A series by Neale Donald Walsh
Conversations with God
*an uncommon dialogue*
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The Wandering Mind is Sorting Today
Just gotta clear my head of some wandering, yet troublesome thinking. You may click out now if you'd like because honestly this one is really about sorting my brain compartments and maybe the worse piece of crap I have ever published. Or it may be brilliant. Not likely, but possible.
I met a child, really, online playing Literati in Yahoo Games several years ago. I had been playing that scrabble-type game for many months when she first joined to watch one of my games in progress. I welcomed her to the room and she said very little. The chat box was fairly empty at the end of that game and I invited her to sit and play. She passed saying she had things she needed to get done, but asked if she could look me up another time for a game. I had no idea who she was, where she was, her age, her intellect nor her intentions.
The next night she did in fact, find me and ask to join my game when the one I was playing ended. I agreed. We started to get acquainted through the chat box and the game took a long time to play. We actually talked more than we played and I closed the room to other players or viewers so we could talk privately. She told me a bit about herself. She lived in Oahu, Hawaii and was a high school student. She had recently moved in with her brother because her step-mother had not wanted her in her home. She didn't give many details, though I asked. She was stingy with details but gave me enough information to know she had some issues and I thought she was in need of an ear. I had two of them, so I lent them. She told me English was her second language and playing scrabble or any other word game, helped her learn more and feel more confident. She was of Mexican and Hawaiian decent. Her first language was Spanish and her Hawaiian was fluent, she felt her English was adequate, but needed more development. She asked the definition of a lot of the words used in scrabble. Some were easy enough and some I would look up and dumb down the definition for her. It was a fun way to spend a few hours each night.
Yes, each night. She and I talked and played for a few hours almost every night for over 4 years. She became my very dear and very close online "granddaughter". I can tell you, I loved this girl. She sent me drawings that she had done and they hang framed in my office still.
My kids were and are, very skeptical that she was real or anything like what she said she was. They think it was just someone messing with me and ultimately hurting me. I will never know. I will never think she was anything less than I believed at the time and I have absolutely no reason to hold on to those beliefs. I just do. If the kids are right and she never was, I loved and cherished the girl I believed she was. If I was right, I lost a valuable and precious friend.
To summarize, I learned and lived her life with her for the four plus years that she was able to type and communicate with me. She was as real as any friend I have ever known. I cried many nights with her and for her and I prayed for her, always.
I chatted with her boyfriend, eventually husband, and became friends with him also. I liked him a lot and as she grew sicker and sicker, I talked with him even more. When she was gone, we continued to talk. I sent him the first draft of the story the day after I finished it. He gave me his blessing to continue with it and publish it, if I wished, and assured me she would have loved that I did this.
He has disappeared from my life now. He remarried a couple years after she passed and he kept in contact with me until that marriage dissolved and I cannot find him. I have reached out to him over and over and get nothing in return. This could tell me something. It could mean he doesn't want me in his life for any number of reasons or that he made the whole thing up for over 7 years and is tired of the game. I will never know, unless he contacts me at some point. I have no address or phone number for him only email, which is now closed and the yahoo messaging we used to use returns nothing to me.
My book, The Island Princess, is all about this girl and her family and my relationship with her. She called me "Abuelita" which I believe is Spanish for "Grandma" or more literally "Little Grandmother" and is used as a more endearing form of Grandmother. Perhaps like we might say, Grammy or Nana or any of the other names we use for the Grandma that is special.
My problem now is that I have decided to re-write parts of the book and republish it. Good decision because although I love the story as it was, I think it could be better. I asked someone I respect a great deal to be honest with me about the book and she was. I thought about what she said and mulled it around and reread the book and aside from the fact that I may have accidentally published the draft version, rather than the edited one, which I did, it could be told better. The story is a great one. The telling could be improved. I took her ideas and put them in my brain and started earnestly to make the changes. I haven't gotten very far. I keep stopping to cry or remember or just evaluate what I want the reader to see as I am writing.
I have discovered that I cannot think about the reader as I write. It stops me in my tracks. I keep thinking, "I can't tell this story. It's too close. It's too painful. It's too hard. I can only tell it the way I originally did. I can't change the format. I can't think of who's reading. I can only tell the story as it was told to me." I realize now that whether this story ever gets its due, meaning someone out there reads it and is moved, or not, it is finished. I cannot rewrite this particular story. I am cleaning it up. Removing some errors. I will do what I feel good about doing, but this story is not mine to change or embellish. It is her story whether she ever existed or not. It is my job to share it as she shared it with me.
So my head is all full now of doubt. I don't know if I have been on the wrong track all along or if I just don't have "it" or if blog writing is for me and I should just do this and stop with the grandiose thinking...
I wonder if all the people who have encouraged me all these years after reading my manuscripts are just people who are being kind to me because they love or like me a lot. I wonder if the stories I have written are just plain blah. Did I somehow let my loved ones encourage me toward something I am just not capable of doing?
I know we all work so hard to get just the right words, just the right scene, just the right colors in our work and I'm no different. The truth is, though, that none of that matters if the ability to make the story feel real isn't there. If you don't know and care about the characters, the story doesn't matter. I don't know that I have that ability. I don't know.
I do know, am certain about this one thing, if a writer ASKS you for an opinion on their work, give it. Be honest and kind. It isn't that hard, but it does take a few moments. I suggest you wait to be asked, it will be accepted more openly. I have asked several people and I have only gotten one negative reply. I believe that one showed me more than all the positive ones by making me accept I may have limitations in talent. I may have bitten off more than I can chew and I may have to store the left overs. Perhaps if I freeze them, I'll develop or discover a new recipe that will make them more palpable to others.
Reviews are very helpful and very instructive when they come from honesty and kindness. Please give both when you are asked.
Jo
I met a child, really, online playing Literati in Yahoo Games several years ago. I had been playing that scrabble-type game for many months when she first joined to watch one of my games in progress. I welcomed her to the room and she said very little. The chat box was fairly empty at the end of that game and I invited her to sit and play. She passed saying she had things she needed to get done, but asked if she could look me up another time for a game. I had no idea who she was, where she was, her age, her intellect nor her intentions.
The next night she did in fact, find me and ask to join my game when the one I was playing ended. I agreed. We started to get acquainted through the chat box and the game took a long time to play. We actually talked more than we played and I closed the room to other players or viewers so we could talk privately. She told me a bit about herself. She lived in Oahu, Hawaii and was a high school student. She had recently moved in with her brother because her step-mother had not wanted her in her home. She didn't give many details, though I asked. She was stingy with details but gave me enough information to know she had some issues and I thought she was in need of an ear. I had two of them, so I lent them. She told me English was her second language and playing scrabble or any other word game, helped her learn more and feel more confident. She was of Mexican and Hawaiian decent. Her first language was Spanish and her Hawaiian was fluent, she felt her English was adequate, but needed more development. She asked the definition of a lot of the words used in scrabble. Some were easy enough and some I would look up and dumb down the definition for her. It was a fun way to spend a few hours each night.
Yes, each night. She and I talked and played for a few hours almost every night for over 4 years. She became my very dear and very close online "granddaughter". I can tell you, I loved this girl. She sent me drawings that she had done and they hang framed in my office still.
My kids were and are, very skeptical that she was real or anything like what she said she was. They think it was just someone messing with me and ultimately hurting me. I will never know. I will never think she was anything less than I believed at the time and I have absolutely no reason to hold on to those beliefs. I just do. If the kids are right and she never was, I loved and cherished the girl I believed she was. If I was right, I lost a valuable and precious friend.
To summarize, I learned and lived her life with her for the four plus years that she was able to type and communicate with me. She was as real as any friend I have ever known. I cried many nights with her and for her and I prayed for her, always.
I chatted with her boyfriend, eventually husband, and became friends with him also. I liked him a lot and as she grew sicker and sicker, I talked with him even more. When she was gone, we continued to talk. I sent him the first draft of the story the day after I finished it. He gave me his blessing to continue with it and publish it, if I wished, and assured me she would have loved that I did this.
He has disappeared from my life now. He remarried a couple years after she passed and he kept in contact with me until that marriage dissolved and I cannot find him. I have reached out to him over and over and get nothing in return. This could tell me something. It could mean he doesn't want me in his life for any number of reasons or that he made the whole thing up for over 7 years and is tired of the game. I will never know, unless he contacts me at some point. I have no address or phone number for him only email, which is now closed and the yahoo messaging we used to use returns nothing to me.
My book, The Island Princess, is all about this girl and her family and my relationship with her. She called me "Abuelita" which I believe is Spanish for "Grandma" or more literally "Little Grandmother" and is used as a more endearing form of Grandmother. Perhaps like we might say, Grammy or Nana or any of the other names we use for the Grandma that is special.
My problem now is that I have decided to re-write parts of the book and republish it. Good decision because although I love the story as it was, I think it could be better. I asked someone I respect a great deal to be honest with me about the book and she was. I thought about what she said and mulled it around and reread the book and aside from the fact that I may have accidentally published the draft version, rather than the edited one, which I did, it could be told better. The story is a great one. The telling could be improved. I took her ideas and put them in my brain and started earnestly to make the changes. I haven't gotten very far. I keep stopping to cry or remember or just evaluate what I want the reader to see as I am writing.
I have discovered that I cannot think about the reader as I write. It stops me in my tracks. I keep thinking, "I can't tell this story. It's too close. It's too painful. It's too hard. I can only tell it the way I originally did. I can't change the format. I can't think of who's reading. I can only tell the story as it was told to me." I realize now that whether this story ever gets its due, meaning someone out there reads it and is moved, or not, it is finished. I cannot rewrite this particular story. I am cleaning it up. Removing some errors. I will do what I feel good about doing, but this story is not mine to change or embellish. It is her story whether she ever existed or not. It is my job to share it as she shared it with me.
So my head is all full now of doubt. I don't know if I have been on the wrong track all along or if I just don't have "it" or if blog writing is for me and I should just do this and stop with the grandiose thinking...
I wonder if all the people who have encouraged me all these years after reading my manuscripts are just people who are being kind to me because they love or like me a lot. I wonder if the stories I have written are just plain blah. Did I somehow let my loved ones encourage me toward something I am just not capable of doing?
I know we all work so hard to get just the right words, just the right scene, just the right colors in our work and I'm no different. The truth is, though, that none of that matters if the ability to make the story feel real isn't there. If you don't know and care about the characters, the story doesn't matter. I don't know that I have that ability. I don't know.
I do know, am certain about this one thing, if a writer ASKS you for an opinion on their work, give it. Be honest and kind. It isn't that hard, but it does take a few moments. I suggest you wait to be asked, it will be accepted more openly. I have asked several people and I have only gotten one negative reply. I believe that one showed me more than all the positive ones by making me accept I may have limitations in talent. I may have bitten off more than I can chew and I may have to store the left overs. Perhaps if I freeze them, I'll develop or discover a new recipe that will make them more palpable to others.
Reviews are very helpful and very instructive when they come from honesty and kindness. Please give both when you are asked.
Jo
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Thanksgiving 2011
Thankful for...
BFF
When I contemplate my blessings and my life in general my emotions sometimes get the best of me and writing becomes a bit of a challenge. I think some of my favorite stuff comes from that state of mind where only gratitude and love reside. This will likely be one of those, since I am about to tell you of the things I thank God for and remember a few moments I am grateful to have lived.
Momma turned 89 in October and is young at heart and as spry as most 70 year olds. Her mind is a little slower to recall, but still sharp as ever. She still dresses with care everyday, wearing comfortable clothes like jeans or sweatpants or comfy dress slacks with her choice of sweaters, soft pull-overs or sweatshirts. Whatever she chose, it matches. Her hair always looks neat and in place. She only wears shoes when she goes outside. Inside is for bare feet or if it's chilly, socks. She reads whatever books she can get her hands on and then will tell me which ones were good and which ones, well, not so good. (She said she loved my books, by the way.) Her TV is on if she is out of bed and the volume set so as not to bother any neighbors, whether or not she can hear it, it will not be bothering anyone. She no longer drives, but otherwise, takes care of most of her needs. I am more than happy to take care of the big stuff and to be her taxi. She appreciates what I do for her and tells me so often. Every Friday I pick her up and bring her home with me for the afternoon. We do her hair and she stays for dinner or we go out for dinner. She prefers to eat here, I think. Dining out doesn't really appeal to her so much anymore and I'm with her about that, so eating in is most often the plan. I love cooking for her because she loves everything. She doesn't cook a lot anymore, but she can still make a good pot of chili and the occasional tuna noodle casserole for herself. We get groceries together and run any other errands she might want to run on another day and besides those two days, I stop in to see her if I am in town for anything, she lives just 2 miles from me and that rocks. She used to live 45 minutes away until 2 years ago. I am so happy she moved here. No list of my blessings could start any other way, I am so very thankful to have her in my life and so very thankful for her good health and almost always good attitude.
My roomy has to go on this list because, I am telling you the truth here, there isn't another man who could have or would have put up with me for all these years. He is nearly my polar opposite, personality wise. He talks to me and to the grandkids, but he isn't much of a talker otherwise. He can seriously sit in a crowded room of family and say nothing for hours. He listens. He laughs. He just doesn't talk. When he does, it's usually either something funny or important. (I am not like that. I just talk.) He works full time even though he is 8 years past retirement age, according to Social Security. He likes his job, most days, and can't imagine not going to work every day. When I retired he started talking about retiring, but so far that hasn't happened. Maybe next year. (*giggling, just a bit*) Since he has no real hobby and no real interests except lawn maintenance, his winters would be very boring and very long. I don't care if he works or retires, I just care that he still likes me. I think that sometimes it's okay to be my roomy because I do cook almost everyday and I do keep a clean house. I make sure the bills are paid on time and I make sure he doesn't go into debt beyond his means. I make sure things get fixed when they are broken, one way or the other. I have my good points, but day to day, I might be a bit difficult. I not only keep a clean house, but I also insist he take care of his crap. Not something he thinks is necessarily important. He will always take care of things, eventually. I need things clean all the time. An empty bottle or cup sitting on the end table after you've made several trips to the kitchen, not acceptable. Take it with you. Leaving several outfits hanging on the back of the bathroom door, not acceptable. We have closets for that. He likes to leave certain things, umm in a handier spot than the closet. I could go on and on, but I am sure you see what a pain in the butt I would be, if you weren't also a little over-the-top-nutso about your environment. A place for everything and everything in it's place. How does this relationship work? (I know you're thinking that.) It works because he is my life partner. He knows everything there is to know about me and he still likes me. He loves me as I am and thinks our differences are unimportant because we have family that we both love, we have respect for each other and we have one goal in common. That goal is simply to be there for each other as long as we are able. We have both been divorced and we neither one desire another. This marriage was meant to be until death and it shall be. I can't even imagine what my life would be like without him because he really is my other half. He is my yin and I'm his yang. For all the good and bad times of life, this is the man I want beside me. He doesn't lead me, he doesn't follow me. We walk our days side by side and hand in hand. I am thankful that somehow we found each other and somehow we fell in love. I am thankful that we will spend all the remaining days of our lives together.
I am a sister. I am thankful that my siblings are exactly who they are. My sister is also my friend and the saying you see all over that says something like, "Sisters by blood, friends by choice" is my truth. I have only one sister and lucky for me, she's a keeper.
When we were kids it wasn't such a great thing. She didn't much like me and I guess I pretty much thought she was a snot. We shared a room and sometimes clothes and that's about all. We just didn't socialize with each other partly because of the 5 year difference in age and partly because we had nothing in common. I have always been a very creative and exasperating person. I always liked having my own space and being alone in it. She has always been a bit more of a rebel than I. Make a rule and she'll ignore it, if it doesn't fit into her needs. She was the smart one and she was also beautiful. In my mind, she was just about perfect. She didn't always do what Mom and Dad had in mind, but she wasn't ever in trouble. Grounded, often, but that only led the way for me to have more freedom, so that wasn't a bad thing. When she got married, somehow, we became best friends. She moved out and I spent a ridiculous amount of time at her apartment. I really missed her. She had a baby and I practically moved in with her. I couldn't get enough of that little girl. She was the love of my life from the moment I first touched her tiny, soft face. That was our biggest and most enduring bonding experience. With the birth of that baby girl, my sister became my focus. I wanted her to have whatever she wanted and I would do whatever I could to help her get it. I have loved her every moment of my life, but I liked her with every beat of my heart after she moved out! Just to cement our relationship a bit more, I married her husband's brother. Yep, we fell in love with brothers. We had 2 kids each and now the four of them are double cousins, or so I call them. We raised our kids for a while just a few blocks apart and then a few miles apart and then my marriage fell apart. Her's lasted until her girls were much older. That's a story for another day, but for this story, let it suffice to say that we have both ended up with the right man and both of us now have the kind of life we can smile about. Our kids are all grown and have given us the ultimate gift, we are Grandma's now and her kids are still a giant part of my heart. I am more than an Aunt, I am THE Aunt, in my mind. A few years ago, she became very ill. For a few days, very scary days, we didn't know what was wrong and that she nearly died. I don't believe I have ever felt so helpless and so sad as those days. She is fine now and that ordeal passed without lingering results, except that I appreciate her even more. I really am thankful for my sister, Pat, and for her family which is such an important part of MY family. So many stories I could tell about us, but they would all end with, "Thank God, I have her in my life."
My brother has not lived in Michigan, like the rest of us do, since about 1968, I think. He moved for his job to Indiana and has since been either in Indiana or Illinois. He is close enough to get here for special days and far enough away not to be hanging out just for fun. His daughters have never lived here and we have not gotten as close as we might have, had he lived here, but they now bring their families to the reunion which is at my home every summer and we have gotten to know them all over again as adults. They are wonderful women with great families. As a child, my brother was the stereotypical brother with a younger sister. He tormented me endlessly. He teased me, he scared me, he laughed at me and yet, if I needed to be rescued, he was the one. I apparently slid down the side of the creek bank and hit my head on the ice one time, cutting my head open and knocking myself out. He picked me up and got me home to Mom. His words, "I saved your life!" Yeah, maybe. I think, he probably had something to do with me falling in the first place, but I do not remember. We played with the same boys in our neighborhood, (there were no girls, but me) and it was okay because mostly I played by myself anyway. He bought a car with money from his first job and it was the coolest car ever. I loved it. He gave me rides to school almost everyday. That was too cool. After high school he was injured rather severely in a construction accident. Our dad was there working with him when a ditch collapsed on him. His pelvis was broken and he was in the hospital for what seemed like months. It wasn't, but it was a long time. When he finally came home, I had to tell him that I had driven his car to town once to get supplies for dinner. I wanted to make something and no one was home but me and so I just took his car. Oh, did I mention that I was 15? No license and no way that I should have done that, but it seemed like a plan at the time. I got in big, big trouble for it, but the worse was that I had to tell him.
He, I thought, would have a tantrum or never speak to me again or something like that. I was really afraid. I told him, he just laid there on the bed Mom and Dad had set up in the living room for his recuperation period. Just looking at me. I finally said something like, "Well?" He just laughed and then grimaced and told me to get lost, it really hurt to laugh. That might have been the second time I knew that I loved my brother. The first time was, when my Mom told me what had happened in that ditch and I realized that I could have lost him that day. When he married and shortly after moved out of state, we kind of drifted apart. We had our first babies just months apart and since mine was born first, we headed down to Indiana to meet our new niece. This was our relationship for the next, well, that's kind of still our relationship! We see each other about 4 times a year. I miss him, I mean I miss the idea of him being closer, I guess, but I know he is where he wants to be. His girls have families and he and his wife are near them. They make the trip to be with us for all the holidays except Christmas and it's wonderful to spend those days with them. I am so thankful that he and his wife make this sacrifice, it's over 4 hours one way, for themselves, for us and for Mom. I am thankful for my brother and thankful that even though he is hours from us, he is always in our lives.
My first born was a girl. She was the most perfectly beautiful baby girl ever. I used to just stare at her as I held her or when she was lying in her crib and I would just marvel at how angelic she was. She had the most beautiful hair by the time she was 2 and it hung in long curls past her shoulders. I learned this was baby hair and when she was about 2 and a half, I cut her hair to her shoulders and watched the curls disappear...forever. (*sighing*) She was a very easy baby, cried very little, needed very little and smiled a lot. She laughed at everything. Or I was the funniest mommy ever, not sure which. She was a really good big sister, at first. She wanted to help with everything and did a good job entertaining her brother to allow me to accomplish a few household things from time to time. They played very well until they got to be school aged, then it all fell apart. Back to her...I never for even a moment was disappointed or bewildered by this little girl. She was just a joy right up until she became a teenager. That is another blog, a very long one. She has managed in spite of her parenting, to become a truly remarkable woman. She has two daughters who make the sun shine for me on the rainiest of days. She has become the most effective parent you can imagine. She is raising her girls to be independent and responsible, to know right from wrong and perhaps most importantly, to take responsibility for their own actions. They know what consequences are. Seeing her as an adult is difficult for me. I have to remind myself all the time that she is all grown up. I know that, but I will probably always see her as my perfectly perfect baby girl. (She is engaged to a really good man and Scott has taken his place in our life as if he were always meant to be here.) I was there 2 minutes after she gave birth to her first child and I can tell you, if you haven't experienced the birth of your daughter's daughter, it's a miracle of gigantic proportion. It is ingrained on my brain as if it happened yesterday not 12 years ago. The birth of the second girl was 2 years later and just as miraculous AND I made it there in time to actually see her make her appearance. I cry now just remembering that moment. I am eternally grateful to my daughter for wanting me with her when she gave birth. It was the most lasting gift I shall ever receive. The blessing of a daughter is one I am so grateful for and this particular woman is my source of pride and honor. I am thankful every minute of my life for my little girl and her little girls.
When my little angel was 18 months old we welcomed my son. He was unexpected but so welcome in my life. The flu I was unable to cure turned into the little boy for this generation in our family. My sister has 2 girls and my brother has 3. I had the boy child as my brother was the boy child in our generation. Our family has only boy each generation. (Well, we did. This go 'round, we have 2 so far. My sister has a grandson and so do I.) Since I was never a little boy, nor was I a teenage boy, this child was a little bit of a challenge to my parenting skills. Okay, I raised him without a man for several years and it was beyond difficult. His mind didn't work like a little girl, shocker! I could never figure him out. Every toy had to be disassembled. Everything that had a moving part had to be inspected and if possible, made not to move anymore. Everything was a riding toy or should be. He climbed to great heights, literally. He could scale anything! He always wanted to be on top of whatever was in the room. He tried, it usually worked out. He rode his tyke bike down the stairs. He got on the roof of one of the old buildings in our little town and he threw snow balls at passing cars. He did things boys do. I had no clue. I did the best I could and I can say this, if not much else, I loved this guy so much. He fascinated me and he intrigued me and he frustrated me. He also taught me tolerance. Yes, he did that. I loved him in spite of the fact that I didn't understand him at all. In spite of the fact that I had no idea how his mind worked or if it did, I loved him. Many, many times I wondered if he even liked me and I knew he often wished I would just go away. I really never thought he would ever really love me. He does. He has grown into such a wonderful man. He and I are very close now. He has married a woman who adores him and I couldn't be more pleased with his choice. She is my daughter-in-law and my chosen friend. I really love her and the fact that she has helped him give me two adorably loveable grandbabies has nothing to do with it. (LOL) She is a good person and I am always proud to introduce her as my daughter. Together they are fantastic parents. They are raising their son and daughter to be polite, to be independent and to laugh. They teach and discipline and love endlessly. My heart just smiles when these babies are in the same room with me. Yes, the Navy, the local police, my roomy and I have raised this crazy boy into an amazing man. I thank God for this gift and am more thankful than any words can say to have had the privilege of raising this miraculous man. He blesses me with his mere existence.
I am such a lucky and blessed woman, that I know as I look around me and see others with loving families that make their world's go 'round, life is all about family. If one is alone in this world, one must make family with friends. Oh, that isn't a law or even a rule, but it makes sense. If I were to find myself alone, I would have to create a new and different kind of family. I would reach out for anyone who might enhance my life or need my enhancement in theirs. I would find people who love being loved. I would work very hard molding my relationships and seeking to find what God has given me right here and right now.
Jo
BFF
When I contemplate my blessings and my life in general my emotions sometimes get the best of me and writing becomes a bit of a challenge. I think some of my favorite stuff comes from that state of mind where only gratitude and love reside. This will likely be one of those, since I am about to tell you of the things I thank God for and remember a few moments I am grateful to have lived.
Momma turned 89 in October and is young at heart and as spry as most 70 year olds. Her mind is a little slower to recall, but still sharp as ever. She still dresses with care everyday, wearing comfortable clothes like jeans or sweatpants or comfy dress slacks with her choice of sweaters, soft pull-overs or sweatshirts. Whatever she chose, it matches. Her hair always looks neat and in place. She only wears shoes when she goes outside. Inside is for bare feet or if it's chilly, socks. She reads whatever books she can get her hands on and then will tell me which ones were good and which ones, well, not so good. (She said she loved my books, by the way.) Her TV is on if she is out of bed and the volume set so as not to bother any neighbors, whether or not she can hear it, it will not be bothering anyone. She no longer drives, but otherwise, takes care of most of her needs. I am more than happy to take care of the big stuff and to be her taxi. She appreciates what I do for her and tells me so often. Every Friday I pick her up and bring her home with me for the afternoon. We do her hair and she stays for dinner or we go out for dinner. She prefers to eat here, I think. Dining out doesn't really appeal to her so much anymore and I'm with her about that, so eating in is most often the plan. I love cooking for her because she loves everything. She doesn't cook a lot anymore, but she can still make a good pot of chili and the occasional tuna noodle casserole for herself. We get groceries together and run any other errands she might want to run on another day and besides those two days, I stop in to see her if I am in town for anything, she lives just 2 miles from me and that rocks. She used to live 45 minutes away until 2 years ago. I am so happy she moved here. No list of my blessings could start any other way, I am so very thankful to have her in my life and so very thankful for her good health and almost always good attitude.
My roomy has to go on this list because, I am telling you the truth here, there isn't another man who could have or would have put up with me for all these years. He is nearly my polar opposite, personality wise. He talks to me and to the grandkids, but he isn't much of a talker otherwise. He can seriously sit in a crowded room of family and say nothing for hours. He listens. He laughs. He just doesn't talk. When he does, it's usually either something funny or important. (I am not like that. I just talk.) He works full time even though he is 8 years past retirement age, according to Social Security. He likes his job, most days, and can't imagine not going to work every day. When I retired he started talking about retiring, but so far that hasn't happened. Maybe next year. (*giggling, just a bit*) Since he has no real hobby and no real interests except lawn maintenance, his winters would be very boring and very long. I don't care if he works or retires, I just care that he still likes me. I think that sometimes it's okay to be my roomy because I do cook almost everyday and I do keep a clean house. I make sure the bills are paid on time and I make sure he doesn't go into debt beyond his means. I make sure things get fixed when they are broken, one way or the other. I have my good points, but day to day, I might be a bit difficult. I not only keep a clean house, but I also insist he take care of his crap. Not something he thinks is necessarily important. He will always take care of things, eventually. I need things clean all the time. An empty bottle or cup sitting on the end table after you've made several trips to the kitchen, not acceptable. Take it with you. Leaving several outfits hanging on the back of the bathroom door, not acceptable. We have closets for that. He likes to leave certain things, umm in a handier spot than the closet. I could go on and on, but I am sure you see what a pain in the butt I would be, if you weren't also a little over-the-top-nutso about your environment. A place for everything and everything in it's place. How does this relationship work? (I know you're thinking that.) It works because he is my life partner. He knows everything there is to know about me and he still likes me. He loves me as I am and thinks our differences are unimportant because we have family that we both love, we have respect for each other and we have one goal in common. That goal is simply to be there for each other as long as we are able. We have both been divorced and we neither one desire another. This marriage was meant to be until death and it shall be. I can't even imagine what my life would be like without him because he really is my other half. He is my yin and I'm his yang. For all the good and bad times of life, this is the man I want beside me. He doesn't lead me, he doesn't follow me. We walk our days side by side and hand in hand. I am thankful that somehow we found each other and somehow we fell in love. I am thankful that we will spend all the remaining days of our lives together.
I am a sister. I am thankful that my siblings are exactly who they are. My sister is also my friend and the saying you see all over that says something like, "Sisters by blood, friends by choice" is my truth. I have only one sister and lucky for me, she's a keeper.
When we were kids it wasn't such a great thing. She didn't much like me and I guess I pretty much thought she was a snot. We shared a room and sometimes clothes and that's about all. We just didn't socialize with each other partly because of the 5 year difference in age and partly because we had nothing in common. I have always been a very creative and exasperating person. I always liked having my own space and being alone in it. She has always been a bit more of a rebel than I. Make a rule and she'll ignore it, if it doesn't fit into her needs. She was the smart one and she was also beautiful. In my mind, she was just about perfect. She didn't always do what Mom and Dad had in mind, but she wasn't ever in trouble. Grounded, often, but that only led the way for me to have more freedom, so that wasn't a bad thing. When she got married, somehow, we became best friends. She moved out and I spent a ridiculous amount of time at her apartment. I really missed her. She had a baby and I practically moved in with her. I couldn't get enough of that little girl. She was the love of my life from the moment I first touched her tiny, soft face. That was our biggest and most enduring bonding experience. With the birth of that baby girl, my sister became my focus. I wanted her to have whatever she wanted and I would do whatever I could to help her get it. I have loved her every moment of my life, but I liked her with every beat of my heart after she moved out! Just to cement our relationship a bit more, I married her husband's brother. Yep, we fell in love with brothers. We had 2 kids each and now the four of them are double cousins, or so I call them. We raised our kids for a while just a few blocks apart and then a few miles apart and then my marriage fell apart. Her's lasted until her girls were much older. That's a story for another day, but for this story, let it suffice to say that we have both ended up with the right man and both of us now have the kind of life we can smile about. Our kids are all grown and have given us the ultimate gift, we are Grandma's now and her kids are still a giant part of my heart. I am more than an Aunt, I am THE Aunt, in my mind. A few years ago, she became very ill. For a few days, very scary days, we didn't know what was wrong and that she nearly died. I don't believe I have ever felt so helpless and so sad as those days. She is fine now and that ordeal passed without lingering results, except that I appreciate her even more. I really am thankful for my sister, Pat, and for her family which is such an important part of MY family. So many stories I could tell about us, but they would all end with, "Thank God, I have her in my life."
My brother has not lived in Michigan, like the rest of us do, since about 1968, I think. He moved for his job to Indiana and has since been either in Indiana or Illinois. He is close enough to get here for special days and far enough away not to be hanging out just for fun. His daughters have never lived here and we have not gotten as close as we might have, had he lived here, but they now bring their families to the reunion which is at my home every summer and we have gotten to know them all over again as adults. They are wonderful women with great families. As a child, my brother was the stereotypical brother with a younger sister. He tormented me endlessly. He teased me, he scared me, he laughed at me and yet, if I needed to be rescued, he was the one. I apparently slid down the side of the creek bank and hit my head on the ice one time, cutting my head open and knocking myself out. He picked me up and got me home to Mom. His words, "I saved your life!" Yeah, maybe. I think, he probably had something to do with me falling in the first place, but I do not remember. We played with the same boys in our neighborhood, (there were no girls, but me) and it was okay because mostly I played by myself anyway. He bought a car with money from his first job and it was the coolest car ever. I loved it. He gave me rides to school almost everyday. That was too cool. After high school he was injured rather severely in a construction accident. Our dad was there working with him when a ditch collapsed on him. His pelvis was broken and he was in the hospital for what seemed like months. It wasn't, but it was a long time. When he finally came home, I had to tell him that I had driven his car to town once to get supplies for dinner. I wanted to make something and no one was home but me and so I just took his car. Oh, did I mention that I was 15? No license and no way that I should have done that, but it seemed like a plan at the time. I got in big, big trouble for it, but the worse was that I had to tell him.
He, I thought, would have a tantrum or never speak to me again or something like that. I was really afraid. I told him, he just laid there on the bed Mom and Dad had set up in the living room for his recuperation period. Just looking at me. I finally said something like, "Well?" He just laughed and then grimaced and told me to get lost, it really hurt to laugh. That might have been the second time I knew that I loved my brother. The first time was, when my Mom told me what had happened in that ditch and I realized that I could have lost him that day. When he married and shortly after moved out of state, we kind of drifted apart. We had our first babies just months apart and since mine was born first, we headed down to Indiana to meet our new niece. This was our relationship for the next, well, that's kind of still our relationship! We see each other about 4 times a year. I miss him, I mean I miss the idea of him being closer, I guess, but I know he is where he wants to be. His girls have families and he and his wife are near them. They make the trip to be with us for all the holidays except Christmas and it's wonderful to spend those days with them. I am so thankful that he and his wife make this sacrifice, it's over 4 hours one way, for themselves, for us and for Mom. I am thankful for my brother and thankful that even though he is hours from us, he is always in our lives.
My first born was a girl. She was the most perfectly beautiful baby girl ever. I used to just stare at her as I held her or when she was lying in her crib and I would just marvel at how angelic she was. She had the most beautiful hair by the time she was 2 and it hung in long curls past her shoulders. I learned this was baby hair and when she was about 2 and a half, I cut her hair to her shoulders and watched the curls disappear...forever. (*sighing*) She was a very easy baby, cried very little, needed very little and smiled a lot. She laughed at everything. Or I was the funniest mommy ever, not sure which. She was a really good big sister, at first. She wanted to help with everything and did a good job entertaining her brother to allow me to accomplish a few household things from time to time. They played very well until they got to be school aged, then it all fell apart. Back to her...I never for even a moment was disappointed or bewildered by this little girl. She was just a joy right up until she became a teenager. That is another blog, a very long one. She has managed in spite of her parenting, to become a truly remarkable woman. She has two daughters who make the sun shine for me on the rainiest of days. She has become the most effective parent you can imagine. She is raising her girls to be independent and responsible, to know right from wrong and perhaps most importantly, to take responsibility for their own actions. They know what consequences are. Seeing her as an adult is difficult for me. I have to remind myself all the time that she is all grown up. I know that, but I will probably always see her as my perfectly perfect baby girl. (She is engaged to a really good man and Scott has taken his place in our life as if he were always meant to be here.) I was there 2 minutes after she gave birth to her first child and I can tell you, if you haven't experienced the birth of your daughter's daughter, it's a miracle of gigantic proportion. It is ingrained on my brain as if it happened yesterday not 12 years ago. The birth of the second girl was 2 years later and just as miraculous AND I made it there in time to actually see her make her appearance. I cry now just remembering that moment. I am eternally grateful to my daughter for wanting me with her when she gave birth. It was the most lasting gift I shall ever receive. The blessing of a daughter is one I am so grateful for and this particular woman is my source of pride and honor. I am thankful every minute of my life for my little girl and her little girls.
When my little angel was 18 months old we welcomed my son. He was unexpected but so welcome in my life. The flu I was unable to cure turned into the little boy for this generation in our family. My sister has 2 girls and my brother has 3. I had the boy child as my brother was the boy child in our generation. Our family has only boy each generation. (Well, we did. This go 'round, we have 2 so far. My sister has a grandson and so do I.) Since I was never a little boy, nor was I a teenage boy, this child was a little bit of a challenge to my parenting skills. Okay, I raised him without a man for several years and it was beyond difficult. His mind didn't work like a little girl, shocker! I could never figure him out. Every toy had to be disassembled. Everything that had a moving part had to be inspected and if possible, made not to move anymore. Everything was a riding toy or should be. He climbed to great heights, literally. He could scale anything! He always wanted to be on top of whatever was in the room. He tried, it usually worked out. He rode his tyke bike down the stairs. He got on the roof of one of the old buildings in our little town and he threw snow balls at passing cars. He did things boys do. I had no clue. I did the best I could and I can say this, if not much else, I loved this guy so much. He fascinated me and he intrigued me and he frustrated me. He also taught me tolerance. Yes, he did that. I loved him in spite of the fact that I didn't understand him at all. In spite of the fact that I had no idea how his mind worked or if it did, I loved him. Many, many times I wondered if he even liked me and I knew he often wished I would just go away. I really never thought he would ever really love me. He does. He has grown into such a wonderful man. He and I are very close now. He has married a woman who adores him and I couldn't be more pleased with his choice. She is my daughter-in-law and my chosen friend. I really love her and the fact that she has helped him give me two adorably loveable grandbabies has nothing to do with it. (LOL) She is a good person and I am always proud to introduce her as my daughter. Together they are fantastic parents. They are raising their son and daughter to be polite, to be independent and to laugh. They teach and discipline and love endlessly. My heart just smiles when these babies are in the same room with me. Yes, the Navy, the local police, my roomy and I have raised this crazy boy into an amazing man. I thank God for this gift and am more thankful than any words can say to have had the privilege of raising this miraculous man. He blesses me with his mere existence.
I am such a lucky and blessed woman, that I know as I look around me and see others with loving families that make their world's go 'round, life is all about family. If one is alone in this world, one must make family with friends. Oh, that isn't a law or even a rule, but it makes sense. If I were to find myself alone, I would have to create a new and different kind of family. I would reach out for anyone who might enhance my life or need my enhancement in theirs. I would find people who love being loved. I would work very hard molding my relationships and seeking to find what God has given me right here and right now.
Jo
Thursday, November 1, 2012
PATRIOTISM
As we approach an election here in the United States, I am
thinking more about what is good for my country and less about what is good for
me. Today I realized they really are one
and the same. What makes MY life better more than likely will also make my
friends and families lives better and therefore, by extension, the country
better. Now, I could talk about the economy, but that would be a sad and dreary
blog and it’s fall, I can’t let myself go there. I can’t wallow in the prospect
of solving our national debt and balancing our national budget. I have my own
under control and that’s all I can handle right now. So, I’m going to the more
lifting and cheerful side of patriotism.
I fly a flag 365 days a year 24/7 with a light above for
illumination (as required to fly one 24/7), because I am always lifted
emotionally a bit when I look out my kitchen window and see it waving or
standing out straight or even resting against the poll. There is something that
feels like pride or camaraderie that fills you when you fly your own American
flag or your own country’s flag, I should say. The men and women who have
served in the military come immediately to mind along with every man (all men, to date)
who has called the Oval Office his workplace, serving to protect freedoms and
defend our constitution, which translates to serving the population of the
United States. Serving. Standing in our
stead, working to bring the people what that people want, or the majority of
them. A united country of states means
at some point we have to have one ideal and one goal. We get there by voting
and the majority rules. Therefore, I always support and respect the holder of the office of Presidency because that is patriotism to me. I may not always agree with him, I may not EVER like him, but I will always respect him and call him my President.
 |
| Our flag, flying this past August. |
Believing my country can be more than it is, is not
unpatriotic. Isn’t it just the opposite?
If I believe in my country as a strong and growing community of my
fellow Americans I have to believe that just like me, WE can be more and better
tomorrow than we are today. I believe together as a united group, we can
reclaim our rightful place on top of every list, including the greatest
financially secure economy on earth. We have what it takes and by making
changes at the top, we can make changes here in my world. Those changes require
we stop thinking like it is 1950. We can’t do what we’ve always done, it doesn’t
work. New ideas are called for. New
co-operation is called for. New tax code, old programs that are outdated
removed, re-written and replaced! Our
electoral system is very outdated. Time for a new over haul or maybe even
passed time. The Electoral College was
necessary for a timely count of votes once, now it is not. We know within
minutes what the vote count is now, the actual voters ballots CAN now be
counted and sent in within minutes of voting throughout the night. We could easily be electing our leaders by
popular vote and actually putting people in office that were chosen by EVERY
voter who exercised their right. I believe that would greatly increase the
number of voters because many feel their vote doesn’t count anyway. The
Electors would be done away with as were many outdated ways of doing business
our here in the real world. Our government needs some modernization and the
rules need amending to allow for us to really have the say of the people heard!
The party system could be done away with and no one would
mind except the millionaires who get richer by running and organizing and
pandering during every election. What if
anyone really could be President? What
if money wasn’t the biggest requirement? What if you could run on an equal
basis with anyone else? What if x number of TV hours were given to each candidate
at no charge? And what if instead of
pointing out all the negative attributes of their opponent, they were only
permitted to talk about themselves, their own history and their own plans?
Yes, I know you are all thinking that no one would ever
allow that to happen because too many billions of dollars are spent getting the
“RIGHT” person in offices of power. Sadly, I believe that is true and it makes
me very sad and very disillusioned about our future as a country of free people.
Our democracy could be improved upon and our economy right along with it. If
only all the money spent to re-elect or elect every 2 years was spent on our
budget, it’s millions and millions of dollars spent to put a puppet or at the
very least, someone who owes someone something, into a position of power. Doesn’t
feel democratic to me.
I am a proud American who exercises her rights in life every
day. I say what I want. I write what I want. I vote. I drive. I praise good
works and I call out the ones I see as less than they could be. And I also
willfully speak out on issues that affect my life, my community and our future.
Patriotism is alive and well in the U.S.A. and I am a proud
participant! GOD BLESS THE USA.
Jo
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
NUMBERS
Our lives are filled with
numbers. How old are you? How much do you weigh? How long have you worked
there? How many years have you lived there? Children? How many, how old? What’s
your house number? Social Security number? Phone number? And it goes on and on,
doesn’t it?
How many FB friends do you
have? How many followers on your blog? Or on your fan page? How many views did
you get on the last blog? How many comments?
I know that some of you are
all about your numbers and actually measure your success as a writer by them. I
don’t. I don’t even know how many followers I have, without looking up there to
see. I never know how many views I have or how many visitors I have had. I
simply don’t care. I only care that someone, besides me, is reading my work. I
care that now and then I actually touch someone with my humble words. I care
that ONE person might find an answer to their query by reading something I felt
strongly enough about to write a blog. I care if someone is offended by something
I said. Unless I meant to offend. I care whether the writing helped to clear my
mind or settle something that was rattling around between my ears. I care that
what I write is what I meant to write. If it isn’t grammatically correct, it is
because I am not a grammar expert. I write as I talk. I do make an effort to be
reasonable correct, but it isn’t of paramount importance to my blogging. I try
to write correctly mostly because I know it annoys people to read over glaring
errors; and to a grammar student, any error is glaring. I apologize for
torturing you and I am always trying to do better.
I’m one of those people who
memorizes numbers quite easily. I can’t remember half of the things I’ve done
in my life, but I remember numbers. I find that odd because I don’t try to
remember them, I just remember them and can usually call them up at will.
Wonder why that is? What is it that causes a brain to be wired to remember
numbers and yet not care a whoot about the numbers most people find important?
Like the numbers they use to measure their success. How many customers? How many books were sold?
How many followers? How much money do you make? Ah…money. The real measure of
success to so many people. It is not my success indicator because it doesn’t
make me better. I will feel success each and every time I do something well.
When I complete something I have never done before and I feel like I have done
it well, I am a success. When someone thanks me for something I have given or
done, I am successful. For my life to be successful, I must accomplish things.
I must try new things and even if I fail, I can be a success, if I did my best.
Numbers are important in some
aspects of my life. I use my debit card all the time and I know the numbers;
all of them. I know my SS, Roomy’s SS and Momma’s SS because as I take care of
our business I often need to know those. I know our checking account number
because I have to write it on every check I deposit. I know exactly how much we
owe and to whom because those numbers matter to our future. I do not know how
much I weigh because that doesn’t matter. I do not know how many fans I have
nor do I know how many books I have sold, because it doesn’t matter. I sold
some and I have some and that’s good enough. I’m not a number one best seller,
so the numbers don’t matter.
Another number that matters
is that I give you 100% when I sit to blog. I really pour my heart out or in
this case I empty my brain for your entertainment. Hope it worked this time.
Maybe I’ll check my numbers
when I actually post this. Maybe…
Jo
PS Total page views...27,783. Veteran's Day Posts (2) 810 views for the two.
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