6 Word Fridays: Kept

Thanks Melissa -- for more entries, see http://www.makingthingsup.com/

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I think I've kept every single

solitary piece of paper ever touched

by me, someone I love, or

well, anyone.  Journals, wedding programs, letters,

countless scraps of paper. These pale

in comparison to the pictures. Oh

yes, the pictures -- thousands of them.

Hauled to six addresses in thirteen years.

A small cedar box holds things

precious beyond words -- pictures, obituaries, announcements

each of them tied to someone

who was or is very important. 

But this is more than that --

it is the 42 inch tall

box filled with paper, photos, memories.

I've kept them all, in a

box for the last thirteen years.

Added to it, sure, many times.

Subtracted?  Never -- not until this moment.

I finally tackled the memory mountain

determined what was to be kept

and what could be given away.

It was freeing, frightening and necessary.

I have memories in my head

I kept those, safe and sound.

Paper isn't memories.  Photos aren't memories.

Scraps of paper are not memories.

Those are remnants of time passed.

So I kept all my memories

Kept some photos, paper, letters.

And let the rest say goodbye.

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Wow, Melissa, you are good with the timely topics of late.  I spent last Saturday wading through my guest room, determining what could be kept and what could go to trash, Goodwill or friends. 

I mailed off 10 letters yesterday -- to friends -- with photos that they may not have seen or knew existed.  I hope they enjoy them.  I did when I found them, but I also knew that I was not going to keep them further -- so I blessed someone else.  If you are someone who received a letter with photos -- just know that you do not have to keep them 13 years in a box -- you can look at them, enjoy them and let them go if you like. Do not be strangled by the tyrrany of stuff -- I am trying not to be.

The "Scrapbook Box" and how I freed myself from its grip.

I should say that I admire, greatly, those who scrapbook.  Those who take the tidbits of life and make beautiful, gorgeous pages for all to adore. 

I am not of your ilk. 

I have had a box of "scrapbook" stuff that I have hauled:

from Maple Lane
to Liberty Creek
to Rose
to 1st Ave NW
to Sea Oats
to Reflection Cove Drive.

Yes, friends, six addresses, 13 years. The box has been opened on occasion, to find what it is I believe I want to see, but never truly been explored to its depths. 

On Saturday I looked through it.

I found hundreds of pictures.  Some good, lots meh, lots bad, a few great.  The bad pics (out of focus, blank pictures, blurry) went straight to the trash.  Nothing to see here.   The meh pictures were sorted to determine if anyone else may want them (because I don't anymore).  I found a virtual treasure trove of pictures of old, good friends.  So I sorted those and some of you will receive pictures in the mail soon. 

The good and great were sorted again -- into pictures to keep and pictures to pass on.  The keepers were resorted into a now much-depleted basket.  The others were put in the "pass it on" file ...

Thus, the tyranny of the scrapbook box and my guilt over it was ended. 

I think.

I woke up this morning in a panic over one (1) of the hundreds of pictures that I had trashed.  It was a picture of me and my sister on my wedding day as she hooked grandma's necklace around my throat.  To think of that moment, that picture, pains me more than it brings me pleasure.  I had such hope, such promise in my eyes that day and the picture captured it perfectly.  I know the rest of the story now -- and that is where the pain comes in.

It is okay, that one picture that I miss.  It is in my mind's eye ... I don't need that sadness following me around any more. 

In Case of Rapture ... Really?

Who knows, maybe this blog will be burning in the eternal fires of hell tomorrow sometime, but really -- rapture?  On 5/21/2011?  What about December 12, 2012 -- which is also apparently a big day for the rapture.

Let me say this -- I am all for religious freedom.  I don't care what you believe in or how you worship, save that it hurts others, small children or woodland creatures. 

However, the ramping up of crazy on the "end of the world is coming May 21, 2011" has hit a fever pitch.  I heard someone on NPR (?) talking about selling all their stuff and awaiting the end of mankind (tomorrow), I have seen facebook pages pop up devoted to getting the "stuff" of the people raptured and countless internet postings on the subject.

If I'm wrong, and hey, I'm good to admit it, I suppose this blog won't mean more than a dusty fart come Sunday.   If I'm right, and the world continues to exist on Sunday, well, this blog may still well be worth only a dusty fart but I will be able to wonder aloud at the people that sold all their stuff, cars and homes for a rapture that didn't happen. 

So, dear readers, are you Rapture-Prepared?  Or just rolling with it, wondering how these people will wake up on Sunday -- disillusioned?  disgusted? re-invigorated for 12/12/12? buying more stuff immediately?  joining a new church/cult that believes THEY have the key to the date of rapture?

This world amuses me mightily, it does.

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This post is courtesy of a conversation I had with some friends last night over the "end of the world is coming Saturday."  One good friend said he didn't want to buy his usual 18 pack of beer on Friday, that he'd just buy a 12 pack, because "it would sure piss him off if he wasted beer." 

6 Word Fridays: Charmed

Ongoing, continual thanks to Melissa for inspiring so many with her Six Word Fridays.  Check out http://www.makingthingsup.com/ for other blogs celebrating 6 Word Fridays.  This week's word is "Charmed."

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It is when I feel most
envious, that I believe others have
a charmed existence.  Bereft of doubt,
lack of worry, plenty of everything,
they have it all, in spades.

But then I realize, their life
is no more free of worry,
want or doubt than mine is.
In fact, we are both charmed
in our own way, each envious
of the others' life, wondering about
the others' seemingly charmed life, indeed.

'Seemingly' is the key, as each
of us leads a charmed life
to someone, somewhere else, as the
grass is always greener over there :)

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This post was based on a short snippet of conversation the other day between KC, Mary and I.  Two years ago, the three of us spent countless hours drinking wine and hanging out.  Today, we can do that, in short snippets of time, because both KC and Mary have beautiful baby girls.  There are times I am envious of them and their charmed lives.  It struck me, however, that my life must appear charmed to them too, as I was asked what I was doing the rest of the night (after Mary announced she and her husband were looking at a minivan and KC announced she was finally able to get away for a facial after her husband would be home to take care of the baby) -- and the question was posed if I'd be "out partying" that evening.  I said I didn't plan to be, but then it reminded me that for them to be "out partying" requires a whole hell of a lot more effort than me, given children, child care, nursing schedules, bedtime schedules, nap schedules ... for me, it is "I want to" and I do.

Guilty as Charged

http://theoatmeal.com/comics/moving

I have been this person.  I don't want to be this person any more. 

So I'm working on it, throwing out trash, giving away what is good enough to be given away and sorting through the rest.  Trying like hell to make some sense of this two bedroom apartment to which I now reside.

Trying to be rid of what isn't necessary for this next phase of life.

Here's to hoping -- and hiring movers, because it is the least I can do for the people I love.

I have a lot of crap.  Time to get moving, er, sorting.

Every step a little closer ... a recipe!

I'm currently in the process of "using up" the food/spices in the house.  I don't want to move much, if anything, in that department so I've been cooking like mad. 

This week's experiment?  Quiche -- which I always thought meant 'difficult' in French since nearly every restaurant that makes quiche acts like they have the secret to turning iron into gold.  Not true, dear readers, not true at all.

Easy Quiche -- or "quiche doesn't mean 'difficult' in French"
350 oven, 30 minutes, muffin tins - greased

1/2 cup flour
5 eggs, beaten
2 T butter, melted
1 cup fat-free half and half
1/2 cup fat-free milk
6 slices bacon, fried and crumbled
1/2 cup matchstick carrots
1/2 cup sliced, then diced (small) potatoes -- I used red potatoes
1/2 cup minced onion
1/2 cup minced green peppers
1/2 cup minced mushrooms
1/2 cup zucchini, shredded
1 cup grated cheese (I used colby-jack, but your call)

Mix flour, eggs, butter, half and half, milk, bacon, carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, zucchini and cheese.  During this time, saute the onions and green peppers, then add to the mixture.  Scoop into greased muffin tins, then bake for 30 minutes in a 350 oven.  Turn the pans once, at 15 minutes, to ensure even baking throughout the tins.  Makes approximately 18 quiche-muffins.

To reheat these little darlings -- 45 seconds on high in the microwave.  Mmm mmm.

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This was a combination of a few recipes on AllRecipe.com.  I wanted something with less refined carbs (i.e. no crust, little flour), and more heavy on veggies.  I added bacon because I had it, but it isn't necessary.  This is truly delicious and I've eaten it for every meal since I made it. I add a salad at lunch and dinner just to get a few more veggies.  Yes, dear readers, I am trying to pay attention to my veggie count. 

In terms of what veggies I used, this is what I had on hand.  Clearly, any combination of veggies in 1/2 cup or 1 cup combinations would work too.  I only wish I had remembered the sun-dried tomatoes I had -- those would have definitely made the cut. 

Next time.  There are more veggies in the fridge which need consumed.

Fifteen years since college?

Okay, this is weird.  Certifiably, undeniably, utterly weird.

I was reading my friend Jamie's blog (The Promise 365) and she was writing about her weekend in Boston (okay, cool) and then she mentioned something -- her fifteen year college reunion.

Has it really been 15 years since I graduated Butler?  I mean, REALLY?  Well, 1996 was 15 years ago and I did graduate in 1996, so I guess this means that I've really been out of college for fifteen years.

What I remember best about graduation day was Kurt Vonnegut spoke (yes, THE Kurt Vonnegut -- an Indianapolis native and friend of Butler) and that my family left me there with no way back to my apartment and my graduation party.

Yeah, you read that right.

Graduation day was cold, rainy, miserable.  Graduation was held outside in a covered pavilion (that no longer stands today) and my extended family all came to see me graduate -- something like fifteen people or so.  Although Kurt was spectacular (he was), it was a miserable grind of a graduation.  At the end, I walk out of the pavilion and head into Hinkle Fieldhouse (the gym area) where graduates are supposed to meet their families. 

There is not one member of my family there.  And my car is back at my apartment, approximately a twenty minute drive away.

Remember, these are the days before cell phones.  I have no money (cap and gown don't truly allow for purse), am in a dress (hence, no pockets), and I am stuck at my own graduation.  I borrow a quarter and use the payphone, calling my house line in hopes of finding someone there.  No one answers, I learn later, because they didn't want to answer my phone and intrude on my business. "Besides that, everyone is there, who could be calling?," my mother says cheerfully, later that day.  Argh.

All of the family, after hearing my name called, me go across the stage, and return to my seat, leaves Butler to head to my apartment for the party.  Not one of them thought of me, despite me riding with them there and my car being obviously located and parked back at the apartment.

Luckily enough, I found my roommate.  She, her mom and I rode back to the apartment in a two-seater Honda Prelude.  Yep, three people, two seats.  It was tight but we managed.

My family?  Nonplussed.  The story is still the family joke.  Apparently they all thought I was riding with "someone else" in the family and it never occurred to them until I got home that I didn't have a ride.

Fifteen years. 

For my master's degree ceremony I had my own car.  I'll do the same for Ph.D.

6 Word Fridays: Wisdom

Many thanks to Melissa for being my muse, week after week.

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Wisdom is so much more than

knowledge, learning, thought, contemplation, experience or education.

Wisdom is a combination of these --

hard-earned, often with a pain component.

Wisdom is what I gain after

failure, success, loss, gain, thought, contemplation.

To be wise -- always a goal.

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This week has been an alpha and omega week for me.  On Monday, dear friends Mary and Lee welcomed baby girl Ellie into their lives.  On Tuesday, I spoke with a dear friend about her ups and downs.  On Wednesday, a friend of the family passed, less than 8 weeks since her diagnosis of brain cancer.  I write this on Thursday, knowing that tomorrow morning (Friday) when this publishes, I'll be on a plane heading north, to see family, to see friends, and to see my Hoosier Guy.

So much joy, so much pain -- all in one week.  I try hard to see the forest for the trees but there are weeks where it all seems so much. 

Please, dear readers, join me in thinking, prayer, meditation (your choice) for love for our loved ones, peace for those that love them, and arms that know when to hold, when to hug and when to just touch. None of us knows, nor can ever have, the knowledge of what is to come in the next second, minute, hour, day, week, month or year ...

Namaste. 



Serendipity

There are some days where I would *swear* the universe just knows what we need when we need it.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I spent Tuesday night on the phone with a friend.  Lu (as you've been introduced to before) lost her husband of 17 years in 2009 to complications following a fall. [See blog post here: http://athenainindy.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-friend-steve.html]

We talked about how her work is going (boo hiss -- return of a jackass for a boss [I may be insulting jackasses by comparing them to him]), her kids (family drama), and her missing Steve (we all do).  She said something that stuck with me on Tuesday -- she said "I feel like I'm cheating when I go out with other guys." 

I had to stop, take a deep breath, and tell her that Steve would want her to be happy -- whatever the hell 'happy' is right now for her.  Certainly happy today does not look like happy two years ago at this time --

Last night I talked to Hoosier Guy about this.  We've talked many times about how we didn't know each other in high school (despite a total HS population of 600 or so), only knew OF each other through mutual friends.  Each of us has said -- what if we'd met then -- would things have gone completely different for us?

I don't know.  I think so.  I think, truly and honestly, each year, each moment, each moment of happiness or heartbreak shapes us.  I'm certainly not the person I was a year ago, not the same as 5 years ago and certainly not the same as high school me, let alone the child me.  I don't think I (nor he for that matter) would appreciate each other and what we do for one another if both of us hadn't lived through our lives as they happened. 

--- Back to Lu.  As we talked about Steve and her feelings on dating, I felt a profound sadness for her, even more so developed with time.  She had "that guy."  Steve WAS, indeed, her soul mate.  Her lover, her friend, her confidante, her rock -- those were all Steve.  And one cruel, hateful September day, Steve was gone. 

Thinking about our conversation yesterday, I was perusing my blog, as I do.  I love to read the comments (yes, I read 'em all), and I happened upon a commenter I hadn't seen before -- CJ.  As per the norm, if I see someone I don't know, I click on their name and see if they have a blog.  If they do, I give it a read. 

CJ, if you read this, thank you for writing your blog.  I still don't (and can't) understand the depths of your loss, but I feel I've gained a greater understanding of Lu and her loss of Steve.  Thank you.  I don't know you, we've never met, but you've taught me a great deal through your words.  If you'll accept a cyber-hug from a stranger through this magical thing we call the Internet, please accept one from me. 

CJ's blog is below -- it isn't her only one, as she is a very prolific writer.  Again, CJ, thank you for commenting on my blog and allowing me a moment to glimpse into your life.  Seeing your comment yesterday and then reading your blog was serendipitous indeed.

http://theredsweater.blogspot.com/

6 Word Fridays: Yesterday

This week's topic ... yesterday.  Thanks Melissa!

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I hear 'yesterday,' and think Beatles
John, Paul, Ringo, George ... those guys.
One of the most haunting songs
ever written -- yet I can't help
but sing along when I hear
it played on the radio. Yes
I believe in Yesterday.  Ah Yesterday.

If it weren't for lessons learned,
if it weren't for tears shed,
if it weren't for thoughts swirling,
if it weren't for those yesterdays ...
could we truly appreciate glorious TODAY?

Yesterday is for reflection, contemplation, thought
Today is for living ... lessons learned.
Tears shed, thoughts coalesced, reflection over.
If it weren't for yesterday, I
wouldn't be me today -- not even.
Yesterday made me strong.  Living today ...


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Notable Quotations from George Santayana (philosopher and poet)


'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.'

Life of Reason, Reason in Common Sense, Scribner's, 1905, page 284

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Santayana

Night and Day

This ... this THING ... the Hoosier Guy and I have is night and day different than my past life.  Night and Day.  Opposite.  Dark and Light.  Finally -- into the light I venture.

This weekend we went to Key West -- had so much fun, laughing, joking, people watching, enjoying.  It was lovely and peaceful, just what I needed after so much crazy at work and crazy with worry about school.  On Saturday we took a boat trip out to the Dry Tortugas -- the end of the Keys and a national park.  I love national parks, try to visit whenever I can.  The trip was to include snorkeling and exploring Fort Jefferson (the site of the National Park and its environs). 

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I last went snorkeling on my honeymoon with the Hex.  We took a boat trip to two separate locations off Maui and saw lots of pretty fish and beautiful reefs.  Then the ride back -- choppy, stormy, windy.  I could see the dock and yet could not imagine it would take us two hours to get there -- that is how horrid it was.  I became seasick.  Barfed repeatedly.  Felt like hell. 

My new husband?  Taking pictures of my misery -- because he thought it was "Funny."

Hindsight?  I should have divorced his ass immediately upon return to Indiana.  We hadn't been married four days at this point. 

Homicide?  My fellow passengers (and the crew) would have considered it justifiable.

One nice crew member I'll never forget.  As I barfed repeatedly and my Hex took pictures, the crew member brought me a drink and whispered to me: "I'm sorry."  So am I, friend, so am I.

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I haven't been snorkeling since.  First, I'm not a good swimmer -- not really.  I have never been in the ocean above my waist without a boat being within twenty yards (no kidding).  Second, those horrid memories still make me angry.  Make me want to scream and shout at being wronged. Make me angry with myself for staying as long as I did, with someone who thought it was funny that I was sick on a boat and took pictures of my misery for his delight.  Assclown.

So this trip was a leap of faith for me.  I like the ocean.  I like the pretty fish.  I like seeing the underwater world.  I scheduled this trip for Hoosier Guy and I, hoping that I could share this moment with him, enjoy snorkeling -- or not. 

The boat ride out there was horribly choppy in the middle.  Yes, I barfed.  Repeatedly.  Breakfast?  Returned.  Hoosier Guy?  Steering me to the back of the boat, getting me some water, getting me some ginger ale, getting my stomach right, and steering me away from someone else who was barfing (and who would have barfed on me).  He took care of me -- sweetly, kindly, considerately.  Made sure I was okay, did everything to make sure I was gonna be okay.

Snorkeling?  We snorkeled, hand-in-hand, through the coral reefs surrounding Fort Jefferson.  I was farther than I've ever been (on my own power).  I was scared, but not horribly so, because I had my dear Hoosier Guy at my side, making sure I was okay, enjoying myself and pointing out the fish and the reefs. 

It was his first time snorkeling.  We'll do it again.

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I didn't tell Hoosier Guy about my previous snorkeling experience before we went on the boat.  He knew I'd gone in the past, but didn't know about how it went.  He didn't know how Hex had reacted, he didn't know of my fear of deep water and fear of drowning.

He was who I've come to know and love -- a dear, wonderful man who cares for me and who wants me to be happy. 

I am so lucky to have gotten it right this time.  So thankful. So lucky.