IN THE PUBLIC EYE

A lesson in church today was about keeping a journal.

I began keeping a journal when I was in junior high mainly to help me with a goal - to become less shy.

(Okay, now let's wait for the laughter to die down)

Yes, yes, believe it or not (and those of you who have only known me that past forty years will not, I know), I went through a painfully shy period after fourth grade.

I even know why I became so shy - in fifth grade, I was put back into fourth grade so I would be with my own age group. I was getting odd enough that my parents noticed it (which sorta means that it was WAY beyond any sort of normal weird), and decided that although I was doing great scholastically, I wasn't developing socially.

And the age difference, especially between 8 and 10-11 years old is pretty drastic.

 

Somehow the stigma of everyone thinking I had flunked a grade really shut me up in a tiny shell.

In junior high, I decided I was missing out on too many things - I was going to stop being bashful and quiet and someone you never noticed.

 

It also helped that I became friends with two of the craziest girls at my school.

 

And I began a journal to help myself.

Guess it worked.

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU

When you have children, you are often thrown in to the middle of arguments, such as "MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYJOHNNYTOO

KMYTOYMOMMYMOMMY!!" and "NOIDIDNT" "YESYOUDID

YOUDIDYOUDIDYOUDIDMOMMY

HEHITMEMOMMY!!" and "YOULIER!" and on and on and on until you step in, tear the teddy/car/blanket/binkie from the one hand and hand it to the other one, and then it begins all OVER again, just switching parts.

 

I'm currently in that exact same sort of dynamics with some neighbors.

People can live for years and years next door to someone without even knowing their name and have no more communication than that neighbor-acknowledgment nod when you each walk out at the same time Sunday mornings to get your newspaper from the driveway.

But out here, even though we must live much farther apart from each other- the smallest area you can have a house on has to be at least four acres - we kinda have to know each other.

- Medical emergencies. The nearest hospital is a half-hour away, and it's only been the last six years that we have been able to dial 911 and get anything other than a Mexican radio station. But even an ambulance takes a while to get here - and even longer in the monsoon.

- We have a whole lot of foot traffic through our back/front yards - illegal aliens, drug smugglers, coyotes (the human kind and the animal kind).

After ten years, our only direct contact has been with illegals who simply come to the front door and want to go back home; they've walked for miles and miles and miles before they even crossed the border into the U.S., and they are exhausted, or have been deserted by their coyote (the human kind), or separated from their group.

But we have neighbors who have been threatened by illegals - a family that lives within a mile of us was held stage at gun-point by smugglers -  cars are stolen routinely in our county.

So our concept of "neighborhood-watch" is just a little broader than it is in regular suburbs.

- We share some things that are a little immediate - water (shared wells usually between 3-5 houses), property lines (sometimes encompassing miles), dirt roads that must be maintained by us the drivers (no city, county or state maintenance... EVER).

 

So now we have a bit of a disagreement about our water well... and unfortunately, I have allowed myself to be nominated for the position of the adult, trying to get the children to 'play nicely.'

Wish me luck. (Oh, and here is the song, if you don't remember it)

HAPPY FEET

I have difficulty spending money on myself.

I mean, I have no difficulty spending $58.36 at Target in one day. But that's for green, light green and yellow colanders of different sizes that stack so cutely, B-12 vitamins, two boxes of Zip-Lock gallon bags, a bag of eight black tube socks, bright fuchsia duct tape, and two prescriptions for my husband (who refuses to use the second health insurance which does away with any co-pay because it takes fifteen seconds of additional time to remind the pharmacy to run the 2nd coverage).

But it is almost impossible for me to buy a new pair of shoes (especially since I only wear three pairs - my house slippers, regular old running shoes and my Sunday one-inch heels).

I can buy a top, but only if it's in the 50% off rack -- and is light purple -- and is a v-neck t-shirt in XXL.

Once is a long, long while, I will be seduced in by a mascara advertisement and purchase some lengthier-double-strength-violet-tinted-to-make-the-green-in-your-eyes-pop-whiskey-sours-scent that pretends my eyes will look then exactly like Eva Longoria from Desperate Housewives.

 

But today I forced myself to get a pedicure.

 

My feet are normally hidden under at least two pairs of sock, my shoes, and my 35" inseam jeans. But since I am leaving shortly for Oahu (obviously spending money on myself does not include purchasing airline tickets to go see my grandkids), and am certain to be barefoot and/or in sandals for six weeks, I bowed to the inevitable.

And pushed myself into the local mall, walked into the chlorine-saturated air, and sat for twenty minutes with my bare feet in the hands of a tiny little Korean woman.

And it was heaven.

THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS

A bird, flipping through his feathers on a bush, who doesn't notice you standing by.

The baseball hat that fits better than your hair does.

Piles of colored Sharpie pens next to multi-colored papers.

The completely worn out paperback copy of a favorite book, thumbed through enough that both the front and back cover as well as the first ten pages are gone.

And why this happens, I have no idea, but just as I am falling asleep, I will suddenly giggle at something - a thought, perhaps the beginning of a dream, but something that suddenly makes me chuckle.

TO SEEK WISDOM

"The proper teaching is recognized with ease. You can know it without fail because it awakens within you that sensation which tells you this is something you've always known."

"Religion must remain an outlet for people who say to themselves, 'I am not the kind of person I want to be.' It must never sink into an assemblage of the self-satisfied."

"The mind can go either direction under stress - towards positive or toward negative; on or off. Think of it as a spectrum whose extremes are unconsciousness at the negative end and hyper-consciousness at the positive end. The way the mind will lean under stress is strongly influenced by training."

"I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me, I will turn to see fear's path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

MOM TO THE RESCUE

With my first baby, I was frantic that with my hearing loss, I would not hear her if she cried out in the night.

But, of course, mother instinct is louder (and much more persistent) than any auditory receptor.

It still works, even when across oceans and lands and seas (with the image of the American flag being raised, dramatic music for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the Boston Pops Symphony in the background, as the camera slowly pans over to... wait, that image is just in my head... right?).

Okay, back to the subject.

As my kids have flown the coop, left the nest, grown up and scattered, etc. etc. etc., my husband claims that I completely avoided any sense of loss by simply getting more animals to take their place.

And my ultimate child-substitute is Murray (he's the slightly larger one on the couch to the left).

Murray sleeps on a bed next to mine (and a real bed, not a dog-bed), and waits patiently every night for me to go to sleep before he goes to sleep.

And I have a serious time-line I must follow each and every night before I get to sleep...

Unfortunately, the last one is the most important if I am actually going to go to sleep - by the end of 15 minutes after taking my nightly Ambien CR, I must be relaxed, under the covers, and mentally going through the plot and script lines from a favorite movie of mine (Jane Eyre, Princess Bride, Dave, or Serenity)... which almost always allows me to sleep into sleep.

But last night... well, my child was in need.

Murray, right at the 15 minute mark, suddenly began a coughing, sneezing almost seizure fit. Immediately my brain began churning out how to possibly do CPR on a dog - what emergency treatment would be open at 12:32 a.m. - and would there be any possible ill-effect from doing mouth-to-mouth with a canine?

He got over it fine on his own, but not before all my mom-instincts had gone on red-alert.

And my carefully balanced bedtime routine was totally and completely screwed.

It is amazing the things that can be accomplished at 4:26 a.m. - my closet got cleaned, all sorts of loose papers got filed, and my on-again, off-again internet connection was uninstalled, reinstalled, uninstalled again and finally each and every plug and connector to my CPU were un-and-re-plugged.

I sure hope I sleep tonight - and if not, I am fully prepared to administer any or all resuscitation methods necessary.

Just with a bottle of Listerine right by my bedside.

GETTING LOST

Years ago I learned that you could find a lot more interesting things if you occasionally got lost.

I learned this from getting lost.

A lot.

Some military families stick very 'close to home' when overseas; meaning they rarely venture outside of U.S. housing and shopping areas. They don't learn much of the language - they don't go out of their way to purchase 'locally' - their friends are other Americans.

We were extremely fortunate, therefore, with our first overseas assignment - we were sent to Dusseldorf, where there simply were no American facilities.

So there wasn't any choice, really. Had to learn German - enough to shop, and then to survive in church. Had to learn to take the tram and the trains. And got lost three thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven times on just the one-way streets alone in Dusseldorf (it would be up in the millions on just regular roads alone).

But by getting lost, I found out alternate routes to almost every place you'd want to go in Dusseldorf - I discovered several Schlosser (castles/mansions) that were not listed on the tourists runs - I began shopping at the farmers' markt - and my two girls were dressed in the most darling German clothing you can imagine (this was in the early 80's, when the exchange rate was VERY good).

So when we were transferred to Frankfurt, I continued to get lost - and then in Honolulu - in Maryland - and now in Arizona.

Today I didn't mean to get lost - I was attempting to find an address - but I can across something that was cute enough to warrant this long, rambling and judgmental blog.

A street name.

"Almostaranch"

Well, I thought it was cute.