August Break, too...

Lately, I feel tired. Tired of laundry, half-eaten sandwiches, lousy stains, sweeping, answering the phone, toilet brushes, answering questions, asking questions, my job, looking at the calendar, watching the clock, weighing in, running around, and brushing my hair.

I'm craving silence. Maybe because I so rarely get to experience it. So, I'm following Mark's example and taking a break for the entire month of August from posting wordy blogs. I'm all dried up. I'll just be posting a picture a day, hopefully. Take the badge from the sidebar if you want to play along. I think it's a perfect idea, set in the perfect month. And tomorrow starts my blissful, long awaited vacation.

Talk to you in September!

Time to Get out of Dodge

The seeking is going well. I'm really being encouraged by the new book I'm reading, Eat Pray Love, and it arrived in my life just in time. I LOVE this book. It makes me happy. It feels like me. It's just like God to send me such inspiration when all my worlds are colliding. It feels like he's speaking just to me. Like this woman's amazing success and lovely, life-changing experiences, and best-selling novel, were just for me. Imagine that. Thank you.

Here's some pieces of my worlds colliding:

My baby girl. She has her license. Gulp. That's the last of them. And to top it all off, she's the one who's most like me. Which means, she's the one who's pulling away from me with everything she's got. And then some. Just like I did.

My other baby....my sweet, Grandson. He just had surgery. Well, actually, this is a post-surgery picture with my Mom. He's such a trooper. And SHE has amazing humming skills...just ask Diahn and Lisa. They've seen, and heard, first-hand demonstrations of the amazing, hypnotic, somewhat shrill, humming skills of my mother. Anyway, the surgery has been looming over our heads for weeks now but it's over, with a good report.

Whew. He's fine. Another gigantic, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Really, thank you.

BUT, by the end of the week, after a very long year, my family will be piled high in two vehicles, headed out of town. And I do mean ALL of us, including my son, his wife and both grandchildren. On the way, we're stopping to pick up our stepdaughter. She lives in north Alabama so, in spite of my post a while back about heading to the coast to support the limping tourist industry in the wake of the spill, we decided to head to the Smoky Mountains. It didn't make sense to drive practically all the way to Tennessee to pick her up, and then head all the way down to the coast, with three small children, and then drive her all the way back home at the end. As much as I want to go there, logistically and financially, we couldn't make it happen. Next year though. Oh, how I miss the Gulf.

But she'll be there waiting when I'm able to return.

In the meantime, I get to spend an entire week, uninterrupted, with my family in a riverside cabin. Sweet. And included in that sweet family, is Diahn and her crew. We're stopping to spend the night with her and her family in Knoxville, and then she'll head up to the mountains during the week to hang out and, BONUS, tube down the Little River. For whatever reason, she and I are SO excited about this particular adventure. Everyone else, not so much.

The girls and I are going to Nashville one day so if anyone knows of some cool places to check out, let me know.

It's been five years since I've taken a vacation so maybe I'm a little too excited, but what the hell! Bring it on! Bring on the long drive and the cramped living quarters! Bring on the hot tub and the sounds of the river, right outside my window. Bring on the long, lazy evenings of Monopoly and sitting outside on the deck, telling stories. Bring on the bickering little ones, and the complaining teenagers and planning meals for 9 people, three times a day. Bring on coming home to a depleted bank account, but a heart full of memories and cherished days.

I've had a couple of friends (you know who you are) who have pointed out that I'm bearing a slight resemblance to Chevy Chase in Vacation. I concur. Guess we won't be going to Wally World. And so much for teaching my girls how to whittle. And the giant ball of twine. And the world's largest frying pan.

Kids these days. They just don't know a good time when it slaps them in the face.

Maybe some crocheting classes while we're there...hmmm.

Seeker

I heard a story once about a woman who was seeking guidance from a wise, spiritual guru. She traveled many miles to find this man sitting on a hillside. Exhausted, she flopped down beside him and begin to gush about her frustrations and how she couldn't seem to find any balance or peace in her life. After a few moments, a fly landed on her nose and she started flailing around, hands swatting her face, spewing expletives, but the fly never budged. She finally gave up and wailed, "What can you teach me? Please tell me something, anything, that will help me make sense of my screwed up life!" The wise, old man looked at her calmly and answered, "Be the fly."

I want to be the fly. I want to find that calm, peaceful center in the midst of this chaotic world. I'm not complaining about my life because life is what it is. I have two beautiful, chaotic, angst-ridden teenager daughters, an older son who's coming into his own, finally, a sweet three-year-old grandson who's learning quickly how to master the art of temper-tantrum throwing, a boss who can be somewhat intense and an old house that we're working on, little by little. I also have a kind, warm husband who works hard to provide for us and a supportive, loving family and amazing friends. So what's the big deal? The big deal is that I don't want to be swayed anymore by the chaos of life. I don't want my mood or self-worth to revolve around whether or not my daughters are happy. That in itself is exhausting, for crying out loud, they're teenagers! Their moods, desires and needs are all over the chart. I can't keep up, as well I shouldn't. They're just being who they are supposed to be. So is my temper-tantrum throwing grandson and my intense boss and my old, somewhat charming house.

The problem is simple. It's one I face from time to time as I'm sure everyone else does, and it lies in my stale spiritual life. I'm a Christian, have been for a very long time. My father has been a pastor since I was 6 years old. And sometimes, the Christian world tends to look at God, in my humble opinion, through very narrow eyes. They often tend to box God in to what they're comfortable with, a God who is like them. And while I do believe we are created in his image, the image that we conjure up is often very limited, very tame, very pragmatic. I believe God is beyond our comprehension, magnificent, untamable and beautiful beyond anything that we've ever imagined. I lose sight of that. I falter. I grow bored with the image of him that I've been taught and always struggle to see more of him. That takes discipline, something that I lack. Ask my parents.

So I have to seek Him. And seeking him for me starts with broadneing my vision of him. And the only way that I know how to do that is to read. But not the Bible, anything but the Bible. Blasphemous, I know, but true. I have read the Bible through a few times in my life, and while it is a source of inspiration, it is also the place that all of my childhood fears and questions and strange teachings reside. When I feel like this, they are all I see and I can't penetrate through that veil. So I decided to rattle the cage, to plunge the depths, to use the inquiring mind that God gave me and challenge my vision of who He is. And I'm pretty sure he's okay with that, even encourages that.

I'm starting with Eat Pray Love. So far, it's wonderful. It's stirring things inside of me that need to be stirred. It's challenging the way that I see Him and reminding me of his beauty. And of the beauty that he created, here in this world, for us to enjoy. And it's reminding me that spiritual growth has a structured, methodical, consistent path and not a chaotic, free-for-all, lackadaisical, circle. And it's reminding me of His love.

So, for the umpteenth time in my life, I'm seeking.

I really want to learn how to be that fly.

Magpie 22: Irony for a Tomato Hater

If you were a fruit, you'd be a tomato. Not a store bought tomato, the ones that come from sterile greenhouses and facilities. No, not those impostors. They reek of florescent lighting

and chemicals. They have the consistency of Styrofoam and they taste like a lie. You are not a lie. You are fresh from the garden, your skin taut and split, unable to contain your sweet core. You smell of black dirt and sun. You are summer, all long days and evening symphonies of cicadas and crickets. And I can never get my fill of you, can never find enough ways to devour you.

Big Baby

cur·mudg·eon

   /kərˈmʌdʒən/ Show Spelled[ker-muhj-uhn] –noun

a bad-tempered, difficult, cantankerous person.

I owe an apology to my sister-in-laws and cousin. We all read the Twilight series, along with our daughters, and last night was our second bi-annual trip to the midnight opening of one of the movies, Eclipse. It's a tradition now. We grab a quick bite to eat across the street at the ever popular, elegantly named Fudruckers, and then commence to standing in line for about three hours with crazed, fans of all ages. And I do mean all ages. And I do mean crazed.

My sister-in-law, Lisa, heads up the event. She used to be a teacher and she has four children so she has an incredible knack for organizing and herding large groups of crazed people. My other sister-in-law, Cheryl, and my cousin, Tonia are the other parts of the Twilight posse, along with all five of our daughters, ranging in ages from 11 to 20. It's a rare occasion that all the girls get together for something that we all have read. No, let me rephrase that...there's never been an occasion where all of us girls get together for a series of books that we all have read. Never. I would stand in line for a showing of To Kill a Mockingbird on the big screen, but the teenagers, not so much. Common ground with our daughters is a beautiful thing, even if it is a story about a vampire and his bleeding-heart family, teenage love, and shirtless, muscle-bound, shapeshifters.

But as Lisa pointed out last night, ever so sweetly I might add, I wasn't in the best of moods. See the above definition. In my defense, it was raining. And on a weeknight, I'm normally in bed by 10, asleep by 11 at the latest. Okay, that doesn't even sound like a good excuse now that I'm writing it. But I was wet! And tired! And just like a baby would do in that situation, I whined. I'm sorry, ladies. Next time, if you'll have me, I promise to enjoy myself. And not to sing anymore TV theme songs...especially the theme to Good Times.

Full Circle Shadow

My grandson loves to sneak my old camera and try his hand at photography. Maybe one day, I'll find pictures of something other than himself. But until then, I find these sweet, little nuggets when I download pictures to my laptop. Makes me smile from ear to ear.
















I kind of like these two. So much so, that I've decided they're worthy of Shadow Shot Sunday. These were taken in our backyard, in his bamboo jungle. It's where he goes to hide. And apparently, sometimes, he goes on adventurous photo shoots.

















I just absolutely love this kid.

















A couple of days ago, my daughter and I took him to see Toy Story 3. He loves the first two movies. In fact, that's a huge understatement. He wears a cowboy hat most of the time, has various Woody and Buzz dolls and characters. He recites lines from both movies. He's been in love with Woody since he was 18 months. He's almost 3 now.

On the way to the movie, he decided to wear TWO cowboy hats, in honor of this glorious event.

















I was a little worried that he would be a little squirmy. An hour and a half is a long time for a two-year old to sit still. He was mesmerized. He barely moved, except to shift Buzz or Woody on his lap so they could get a better view. And occasionally, he would look up at me with that beautiful, little crooked smile and whisper, "Nana...it's Woody!"

















The whole experience was so precious, almost surreal. I used to watch Toy Story movies with my son. And Brian looks a lot like him when he was this age. And here we were again, me a little older, with my sidekick, cheering Woody on.

















Life doesn't get any better than this.

The Spirit of the Gulf

As the oil seeps into the coast, the realization of what this means is also seeping in. For me, it was a little selfish at first. My family and I were planning to vacation in Orange Beach, Alabama this summer. It is the first vacation that we've taken in four years. After the news of the spill, we were still hopeful, even if it was somewhat naive. Maybe the media had blown things out of proportion, you know how the media is, right? Maybe we could move up the date from August to June, before things got too ugly.

Then I began to see the images of the devastation to the coast of my home state, Louisiana. Heartbreaking is a word that I hear and read over and over again to describe those images. And still, truthfully, it's easy to see them and feel angered and frustrated, but also somewhat detached. After all, we live in the northern part of the state, we're practically Texans. No one claims us. We’re too far north to claim the word cajun and too much Louisiana to be Texans. But it's still my home. I’ve lived here for 36 years. The gulf is the only waters that I've known, besides the lakes and bayous Most people who live in the southeast live for summer vacations near that warm, blue water. Not so much now.

And then, Dan, a blogger friend in Miami, was invited to participate in The Spirit of the Gulf challenge. He did it beautifully! He was inspired by other bloggers, and in return, he passed it on. You can see that inspiration at Diahn and Mark's blogs, just to name a couple. While we're all angered and frustrated by the spill, so close to home, so near to the devastation of Katrina, the spirit of the challenge is to celebrate the strength of those warm waters, and the people who make their homes and livelihoods near those waters. This past weekend, Jimmy Buffet did just that in Pensacola Beach, Florida. Now, I'm not a parrothead, but if you live near the gulf, you know Jimmy Buffet. Not personally, of course, but you won't hit a resturant or bar on the coast without hearing his music. He encouraged people to come on down! Don't take on a "sky is falling" mentality! He said the people of Florida are "tough people" and have survived much, and that we should "batten down the hatches". And yes, it's true that he's about to open a multi-million dollar resort in Pensacola so maybe his speech isn't completely altruistic, but still. He's a Floridian, I think his words ring true. I think he means them. They speak to the spirit of the gulf. They speak to the spirit of the American people.

And while this disaster is devastating, there's no denying that, if we can't do anything to change it, why not turn that frustration into something positive? Why not send some positive energy to our gulf friends of the land and sea?

Back to our vacation...we've been waiting it out, watching the news, hoping we could still go to the sugar sands of Orange Beach. But this past week, we've all started to think we should head to the mountains! Just like everyone else I know who's cancelled their gulf vacations. Who wants to see that kind of tragedy? If the beauty is soiled, why go there? But now? I'm thinking maybe we should go. Like my sweet husband says, "So, the beaches aren't so beautiful, we'll find a place with a pool." Spoken like a true optimistic. And why not? My one little family isn't going to save the coast, but if everyone stays away, it only makes things worse. Why not go and do what we can by showing our support? Why not go and talk to the locals and let them know that we're not abandoning them? Why not go and see if while we're there, there's something that we can do, no matter how small, to help? Why not let my children see the devastation that man can cause, but also, the restoring power of nature? Why not.

So, here's a poem. It's an older poem that I've reworked slightly. I'm not sure it works for this occasion but it's my offering for the Spirit of the Gulf challenge.

Take this mess from my plate,
give me silence.
Take back your cell phones,
your e-mail, texts and twitters.

Take back your SUV's,
drinking fuel like Coca-Cola,
and your colorful, sleek mini-vans.
that seat your family of four.

Take back your toilet paper in bulk,
paper or plastic, and your super centers,
selling underwear and roasted chickens
under the same, expansive, blue roof,
little old ladies in the produce aisle

pushing the latest frozen, quick easy meal.

Take back your talking heads, your status quo,
lying politicians, your analysis of any given
situation at any given time and the word,
stress,
the excuse for everything that ails you.

Take back your road rage, your syndromes
and little pink pills that make you numb.
Take back your self-centered teenagers,
taught the world revolves around them,
building massive bombs with Leggos.

Take this mess from my plate,
give me milk and honey.
Give me long, lazy days on a gulf beach,

toes snuggled into the warm, sugary, sand,

the mesmerizing, rhythm of the surf
as it spills onto the land.

Give me food for my soul and keep your toys,
I don't want to play.
Let me know who wins.