I have a decent life filled with the ever present joys and irritations so integral to human relations. BUT. I wonder sometimes how to reach deeper within and touch the passionate spark of essential me-ness in order to let it run free, even amid the triviality of dirty laundry and midnight cries.
A blogger who I've become friends with wrote these words recently. These words which resonated in me like a tuning fork, something that I didn't even know needed to be articulated--an identity which is not so much a secret to others but to myself.
And so, along with my other selves which I am continually exploring, wife, mother, Christian, I also have this self--my secret self--to find and get to know.
Since this is the most fascinating subject ever to be written about on a blog and since I know you are dying to know, here is what I did with my time yesterday:
Began watching last episode of Bones, Season One, Disc 7.
Am interrupted by phone call from chickenone and happily talk for quite a while. (45-60 minutes, I'm not sure.)
Finish watching Bones. (Love, love, love that show!)
Think about cleaning up, then decide that three extra kids are going to be hanging out so a) why clean before they come to mess the place up (Great minds, T., great minds.) and b) I don't have any food to feed them, so at least a quick trip to the grocery store is in order.
Run to Trader Joe's and buy fresh fruit and miscellaneous snacks plus a few meal supplies.
Zig over to the regular grocery store to buy sodas.
Zag over to pet store to pick up bedding supplies for Bobby the hamster and to ask if our guinea pigs, which we signed over for adoption, have been adopted yet. It is busy in the store and personnel are scarce but, what do you know, I see Smokey in a cage, for sale at $32.99.
I decide not to confront someone in the store, because I'm weird about not wanting to embarrass the store employees by pointing out that the animal I gave them to adopt out is being sold. Instead, I walk out of the store, get in the car and CALL the store to ask if my guinea pigs were adopted. I'm told that there are no guinea pigs in the back, so they must have been taken. Hmmm... Smokey was very distinctive and I have no doubts about his identity.
I'm not all that upset by this. I wanted the guinea pigs gone because they were too much work and cost too much to feed and bed (although they were too, too cute). But, I would hope that this isn't a regular practice of this store which makes a point of doing small pet adoptions on Saturdays. I am giving the benefit of the doubt that Nibbler was adopted out and rather than leave Smokey alone (which guinea pigs hate), they put him in with the "for sale" piggies.
Jet home.
Colin is home and he and I unload the groceries. I still have about an hour before the kids are delivered.
Waste time Interact meaningfully with the blog'verse in front of the computer.
Whoops! There they are. Let the chaos begin!
*********************
atypical, Julie and daisies, thank you for your suggestions. I loved reading how you would approach the same circumstance. Daisies' response made complete sense to me although I might not have guessed it beforehand. The other two responses were spot on what I might have guessed based on atypical's and Julie's writing. I like that the personalities revealed in a person's post are so authentic and true to self that you can begin to know how they might respond Inreallife.
Aliki, I got to go on the walk and to Starbucks and I'm still envious. It was that good!
*********************
Bonus anecdote:
After a few days up at Vegas and then spending the night and most of the next day with friends, Marley came home exhausted. She was terribly crabby while her friends were here and then she passed out at 7:00 in the bonus room. Paul and I have not done the co-sleeping thing with Marley. Colin was a frequent visitor to our bed, but little Miss Wild Thing, as young as six months would not go to sleep with us. If we tried, she just tortured us. There was no other option but the Cry It Out for her. However, during Paul's last couple of trips, I had some success making the bedtime transition more pleasant by offering to let her go to sleep in my bed. Initially I assumed that I would end up moving her back to her bed during the night. I was quite surprised to find that finally, FINALLY!, she would sleep through the night. In fact, she would sleep in later than when she is in her room. At the tender age of practically seven, I have started letting my daughter sleep with me. So around 7:30, I hoisted her up off the couch and deposited her in my bed.
This is what I found when I came to bed a few hours later (just ignore how fabulously decorated my boudoir is):
How am I supposed to sleep around that?
(I had her get up to use the restroom and then repositioned her accordingly. On this particular night, she woke up and went back to her room on her own.)
Okay people, I have 4 - 6 hours to myself. Paul is still in Vegas on business. He Who Wishes Not To Be Mentioned is participating in a grassroots quintathlon with some friends, and Marley is hanging out at a friend's house (a favor which I will reciprocate later today).
So, I need your advice. I have this chunk of time and I'm not sure how to spend it. Here's are my options:
Straighten the house and do some laundry. School is back in session on Monday and Paul is gone until Friday. If I get the house in shape today, it will make life easier for the next seven days.
Grocery shopping. I've been taking something of a vacation from my diet. A combination of circumstances has led to this. One circumstance has been the lack of proper foods stocked in my cupboards. Grocery shopping will help me get back on track quickly.
Watch TV. I have one more episode on my Netflix rental of Bones, Season One, Disc 7. It will take almost an hour to watch. This is just a feel good for me.
Journaling/Scripture Reading/Spiritual Reading. I have to say this is the one I feel like I most ought to do. Watching TV is just for me, this category is for me and good for me. It is also an area I've not been intentional about for weeks and weeks and weeks--which is another way of saying months, but months sounds way more negligent than weeks.
I have already done my exericse. A nice long walk up and down hills with a stop at Starbucks. I was joined by two friends and so I killed two birds with one stone there. It was good for my body and my soul.
So, I doubt I'll get enough input before my time is up. I'm curious, however, as to what you will all recommend. And, if it doesn't help me out this time, I'll have the advice at the ready the next time I find myself in these circumstances--probably not for another year or so, but I can always hope it is sooner!
Well, here I am, a day late and (if you're lucky) a few words shorter than usual. ;) After my epic post from the Conniption Zone, I'll be be as brief as possible. We joined Paul on a business trip to Las Vegas as it is the kids' Spring break. He always has a 10 or 11 day trip here in April and for the last few years, we've made it up here for a few days. I have very mixed feelings about Las Vegas, so perhaps I can tie my weekly bread baking in with this trip.
What about Las Vegas gives me consolation? Truly, truly, truly, there is little about Las Vegas that gives me consolation. That said, making this annual trip has its life-giving points. Similar to tornado season or hurricane season, the LUE family has convention season. Starting in April, Paul will be gone over 21 days between now and mid-June. That doesn't include any extra travel he may have to make between this Vegas trip and InfoComm in June. It has been this way for years and it will be for the foreseeable future. By joining him here for a few days, we alleviate some of the separation. The kids look forward to the trip and that, I can tell you, is pretty much of a miracle. Getting two kids who are eight years apart in age excited about the same place is a beautiful thing. They'll play for hours in the pool and every day we are here is a day I'm not NOT cleaning my house at home. Also, Paul has a home office and works on the opposite side of the country from most of his co-workers, some of whom we have known since before we got married. I usually get a chance to catch up with a couple of these guys here (and sometimes we get a free meal--whoopee!)
What about Las Vegas causes me desolation? Where to begin? Las Vegas brings out my hyper-idealistic nature. While I have aged enough that a lot of my idealism has been tempered, it flares up like a sun spot causing interference in my rationality and I usually end up with an underlying feeling of heaviness while I am here. I remember the first time I brought the kids up. Marley was just beginning to walk, so Colin would have been just 9 years old. Vegas has in previous years made a concerted effort to bring families to town, adding attractions for the kiddos as well as the adults. We walked down the street one night and there were all these men passing out cards to everyone who passed by. When they would see we had children with us, they would turn the card over so the kids wouldn't see the naked woman on it. The ground, though, was littered with the cards that others had discarded. Cards advertising clubs with shows featuring nudity or something similar, I'm sure. I didn't like my children being exposed to this seamier side of the city.
I see every woman on every billboard, bus or playbill and think about whether or not this life is the one her parents dreamed of for her. I look at my daughter, my beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed firecracker and my heart breaks to think of her making a living by dancing, posing, modeling in Las Vegas. (I am not judging women who do this. I do not know their circumstances or the journey which brought them here. They may be perfectly content. In my ideal world, however, no woman would have to make this choice.) It doesn't take too long for my mind to wander from the women dancers and models to the other women here in Vegas. The women who sell more than their image.
For a long time, I thought that was my main issue with Vegas and then last year, Paul and I were at a buffet for breakfast. I sat, eating my crepes and potatoes and what not. I looked around and saw people with their plates heaping. It occurred to me that pounds and pounds of this food was all going to be thrown away once it was time for the lunch buffet. I felt sick, thinking about all the hungry people in the world and all the waste here.
Do you see what I mean about hyper-idealism? I know that the money spent in Vegas provides salaries for a lot of people. Children's parents feed them, clothe them, send them to college with the money they make here. I'm sure the state of Nevada's budget owes no small part to the taxes paid by business owners, etc. I can see all that, but deep in my heart, I am saddened by what lies beneath the dancing waters, bright lights and lively atmosphere. Instead of the world being supported on the backs of turtles, as in the Hindu myth, I imagine Las Vegas supported on the backs of those whose lives are not what they imagined they would be.
And so, in choosing to come to Vegas, I have made a choice. Paul has to be here, no matter what I feel/think about the place. He doesn't have the same response to the place that I do. I could, on principle, never come here, but then I would miss out on a few days of not having to be on my own, the kids getting to have some fun and their seeing a little more of their dad than they would otherwise. So, I choose to be here and to live with my discomfort. At least for now. There may come a day when I can't do it any more. I'll have to wait and see.
I hope I haven't completely bummed everyone out. :/
If you are interested in other Sleeping with Bread posts, you can click here. I don't have the links up yet, but if you look on the sidebar, you will see the regular bakers listed.
I've had a couple of requests to share the story of my seven hour trip back home last week. I knew when I said not to ask that someone would. (COUGH!Alpha DogMa, atypical, Meredith) So now, how to relate the tale without a) alienating my husband (It wasn't his fault); and b) putting you all to sleep--this is a long story. To set the mood, watch this clip:
Imagine if you will, a woman. Mary-LUE, your average Everywoman. There is nothing to suggest she is anything other than your ordinary suburban, SAHM, grad school-wannabe. But that's all about to change. Returning from a trip to visit with a friend, she's about to take a wrong turn...
It's Tuesday afternoon. The sky is clear and blue. Mary-LUE travels down the highway. After receiving a phone call from her husband, she agrees to stop in Bakersfield to pick up guitar parts he is hoping to win within the hour in an Ebay auction. It will only take her an hour or so and it will save a few dollars on shipping costs (plus, he'll get the parts sooner). She runs a few errands while she waits for the auction to close and then settles in at Barnes and Noble to await Guitar Guy.
As she waits, she takes advantage of the wireless connection to get her blog fix. Time passes and although she is within the expected time she knew the errand would run, she begins to realize that this delay will put her into the LA area during the evening rush hour. During a phone call with her husband she mentions this concern. He generously offers to make sure all the arrangements for the evening are handled: babysitter, dinner, etc. He suggests that if the traffic gets bad she can pull over and have a leisurely dinner and wait out traffic.
There is only one problem. She is not a leisurely traveler. Mary-LUE, once on the road, likes to get where she is going with as few stops as possible. Her mood begins to sour. She doesn't see the warning signs that the Conniption Zone is near. Guitar Guy shows up and the Fender guitar neck and body are promptly delivered. Mary-LUE hops into the car and calls her husband to announce she is on her way.
Beep!
Beep! Beep!
Her cell phone begins to signal that the battery is low. She can't find the phone charger and she still has a two and a half to four hour drive depending on traffic. She relays this information to her husband. He recommends that she save battery power by turning the phone off. She can just turn it on to check messages, but she doesn't like the idea of being on the road for that long without her phone available. Besides, she knows how to conserve a phone battery. She doesn't need him to tell her.
The conniption has begun.
Mary-LUE gets back on the highway, looking in all the same places, over and over again for her phone charger--while barreling down the highway at 70 miles per hour. It's always in the driver side map pocket. Not there. She sweeps under the driver seat, the sides of the arm rest between the front seats. Not there. A driver passing by her on the road might have noticed a woman talking to herself, hitting her palm on the steering wheel looking otherwise agitated on the road. Such a driver would have been wise to steer clear of Mary-LUE. She was definitely driving under the influence of a temper tantrum.
The miles pass and Mary-LUE's bile recedes from her throat. She approaches Magic Mountain. Feeling a need to answer Mother Nature's call, she pulls off the highway and notices a Starbucks AND a Verizon Wireless store. This trip is turning around. . . or so she thinks. At Starbucks, she turns on her phone to check messages. Her husband has texted her:
No see yr plugger here. map pocket by left leg is my only idea.
(Frequent visitors to the Conniption Zone will know that there is very little in the way of useful things that can be said by the spouse of someone trapped in the CZ.) Mary-LUE's thoughts at reading this message runs along the lines of "Does he really think I haven't already looked there 20 times!!!!!"
The very helpful Dude Verizon helps Mary-LUE find the right car charger and she's back on her journey. At least if she was going to be stuck in traffic, she would have phone access the whole way. (Are you as hopeful as she is about this?) Within minutes of being on the road, it becomes clear the car charger is not working. When she can get it to connect at all, it gives her an "Unauthorized" message.
Mary-LUE's head starts to pound. She seriously considers whether or not she might have a stroke from the frustration. She takes deep breaths, trying, mentally, to cut her losses. The thirty dollars she just spent on the car charger is almost as much as the shipping charges would have been on the guitar parts. Those blank-i-ty-blank guitar parts that her blank-i-ty blank, darling husband of 19 years just haaaaaaad to have.
This interior monologue continues until. . . she hits traffic. Granted, it isn't the worst traffic she has ever encountered. It probably doesn't delay her trip by more than 45 minutes. The major delay was already experienced in Bakersfield. But Mary-LUE is deep into the Conniption Zone.
Deep.
As she approaches her So-So Cal hometown, she decides to stop at the local Verizon Wireless store to return the car charger. She turns on the phone to check for messages:
we b at Kfc 5pm if u can/want
"NO!" Mary-LUE does not "can/want b at Kfc 5pm." (It is already 5:30 p.m.) Mary-LUE is going to return the charger now or it won't get done at all and the thirty dollars will be completely wasted. The only problem is, she bought the charger at a Verizon AUTHORIZED dealer, not a Verizon store. The Verizon store cannot exchange the car charger.
GGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!! (This is the modern day equivalent of shaking your fists at the gods.)
Her head is really hurting now. She wouldn't be surprised if her eyes started twitching or something. She drives the last mile or two home. Number One son is the only one home. He meets her at the door with news of his day. She listens to his story and then heads straight to the phone. She calls the Verizon AUTHORIZED dealer and explains the situation.
"Are you going to be coming back this way anytime soon, ma'am?"
"NO I AM NOT GOING TO BE COMING BACK THAT WAY ANYTIME SOON. May I please speak with the manager."
Sadly, the manager is unable to suggest anything useful.
"If I mail a copy of the receipt, along with the car charger, would you credit my account?"
Yes, he assures here that won't be a problem, just make sure you include the original packing. That won't be a problem. Mary-LUE has the packaging. Or at least she thinks she does.
(In the meantime, her husband and daughter return home. Her husband, unaware of his wife's presence in the Conniption Zone asks her how she is doing. A flurry of words are spoken, some of which include Not, Good, Two, Hours, Wasted, Thirty, Dollars, Shipping, Costs, Time, Back, Not, Worth, It.)
Mary-LUE starts to put together the receipt, car charger and. . . packaging? Where's the packaging?
She looks high.
She looks low.
She looks in the car.
She looks under the car.
She looks in the trash.
She dumps out her purse.
Her husband, in his most conciliatory manner, has been helping her. He has to stop, though, in the search for The Plastic Clamshell Car Charger Holder because he has to leave for worship rehearsal. He starts to ask if she wants him to pick up a mocha for her on the way home. She interrupts him, through gritted teeth and tears, to make it clear that in her state there
is--
not--
a--
single--
word--
he--
can--
say--
that--
will--
be--
helpful--
right--
now.
It is better just to leave--so he does.
Mary-LUE rounds out the evening by calling the second Verizon store to see if the packaging was left there. The call does not bear fruit and there is no more to be done. Her spouse comes home and she is civil but distant. If she talks to him, she'll want to rant and rave at him. She knows there is no point in ranting and raving. He didn't really do anything that came close to meriting the strength of her response. But she was in the Conniption Zone, the place where no prisoners are taken and a sideways glance is cause for war. So, Mary-LUE did the only thing she could. She stopped resisting the CZ. She went to bed and slept, knowing that the CZ rarely maintains its hold on you through the night.
So fellow travelers, learn from Mary-LUE's story and pay heed to the tell-tale signs that the Conniption Zone is near.
Roll Credits
Afterword: I'm not sure why I was so susceptible to my fit of temper. Lack of quality CPAP time (my sleep apnea treatment), not being a great traveler, having to drive so long by myself, being a big baby. Maybe it was all of the above. All I know is it weren't purty. Sleeping with Bread will be baked fresh tomorrow.
Wow! I just noticed that I have 197 posts on this blog. Now, I know I need to deduct a few that are drafts and have never been published, but still, how do you commemorate your 200th post? Any ideas? Should I be registered somewhere?
So today I finally got a chance to catch up a little in the blog'verse after a busy week which started with an unexpected trip to Modesto. My friend Julie has been up visiting with her mother. Recently diagnosed with kidney cancer, my friend's mom had some complications during a marathon surgery to remove one kidney. After talking on the phone with her on Saturday, I conferred with Paul, who agreed that a trip was in order. Sometimes you just need a friend.
It was a pretty quick turnaround trip with a five hour drive up there on Sunday and a seven hour drive coming home on Tuesday. (Do not ask; I don't come across well in the telling.) In between, we spent some time in the hospital, went to see Blades of Glory--it was either that or Wild Hogs--and made necklaces and bracelets at a bead store.
Of course, one frustration was I had the wrong cable to connect to the internet in my hotel room. I had some banking and blogging to do and was not able to accomplish either. Once I got home, my best intentions to catch up were waylaid by play dates, working in Marley's class and, as I mentioned somewhere, my new status as "Go To Girl" for the yearbook. (The fact that there is an elementary school yearbook is somewhat exasperating to me.) The deadline was today and while I was initially asked to help with some camera-to-computer image transfers, apparently I have a talent for photo collage. I was happy to help (and nicely thanked with some Trader Joe's products) but it kept me away even longer. The blog'verse should take comfort in the fact that I picked it over my checking account. As of this posting, my Google reader is clear of new posts but my bills still haven't been paid. The blogosphere is my master.
So, today, Colin had no school and Marley had a half-day. Next week they both have Spring break. Both of them are way past ready to have a reprieve from the weekly routine. Every day Marley complains about going to school and we've taken to putting on what amounts to a dog and pony show to elicit her cooperation. Portable DVD player in the car on the way to school, promises of taking her out to lunch, dangling picking up a friend on the way to school. Is it the best parenting technique? I doubt it; but, I can tell you it is the most expedient. Today we had to up the ante: a trip to Color Me Mine, a ceramics painting store. She was extra fussy, whining about not feeling good. Her back hurt. Her neck hurt. Her throat was sore. We told her to call us if she still didn't feel well and Paul took her to school. We were certain she would be fine once she got there. Um, guess what? She is sick. The school office called about 40 minutes before she was supposed to get home. She'd gone to the office and they'd taken her temperature. 102 degrees. Why thank you, I'm thrilled to be receiving yet another "D'oh!" parenting award. I have quite a few of them lined up on the mantelpiece.
In the middle of all this, I have in the back of my mind my application for grad school. I can go online and check the status. They have me listed under my maiden name. This worries me because the transcript with the good grades had my married name on it. I hope they put it all in the right file. So far, the admissions status page is telling me my application is still incomplete. However, it no longer tells me that I need college transcripts. It all makes me a little fidgety. Part of me is planning on mh being a student in the Fall and part of me is worried about being accepted. Keep your fingers crossed, pray, think good thoughts--whatever you do, please do it for me. I think I'm ready for this school thing.
Oh, one more thing: I've updated my Scenic View link in my sidebar. Atypical of nonsensical text pointed it out me and it is a four hanky story. (If you have any post you think needs a special shout out, let me know; I'll make it a Scenic View.)
P.S. I just read this post by Halushki's sister. It is the absolutely funniest post involving a goat I've ever read. A must read. Really. You have to go read it. Right now.
“What I said,” answered Mary-LUE.“It was just after breakfast when I logged off and I’ve been away for days, and had Starbucks, and all sorts of things happened.”
“Don’t be silly, Mary-LUE,” said blackdaisies.“We’ve all been here and you just left a moment ago and now you’re back.And what is this Starbucks, anyway?”
“She’s not being silly at all,” said MarillaAnne, “she’s just making up a story for fun, aren’t you, LUE?And why shouldn’t she?”
“No, MarillaAnne, I’m not,” she said.“It’s—it’s a magic world.There are people there and weather, and I went on a long drive through the Grapevine and saw Jewel-y in a city called Mo-Des-Tow.I stayed at an Inn called Fairfield but there was no blog’verse connection there.This magic world is called Inreallife.”
“Why, you goose,” said Terri B, “there’s no such place as Inreallife; look! You must have had a power surge.”
Then everyone looked at Mary-LUE’s stats; and they all saw—Mary-LUE herself saw—it had only been a few moments since she’d logged off and then returned.There was no Starbucks and no weather, no Grapevine or city called Mo-Des-Tow, only the blog’verse.“A jolly good hoax, LUE,” Lamont said, “you have really taken us in, I must admit.We half-believed you.”
“But it wasn’t a hoax at all,” said Mary-LUE, “really and truly.I went to Inreallife.Honestly I did.I promise.”
“Come, LUE,” said Alpha DogMa, “that’s going a bit far.You’ve had your joke.Hadn’t you better drop it now?”
Mary-LUE grew very red in the face and tried to say something, though she hardly knew what she was trying to say, and burst into tears.
For the next few days she was very miserable.She could have made it up with the others quite easily at any moment if she could have brought herself to say that the whole thing was only a story made up for fun.But Mary-LUE was a very truthful girl and she knew that she was really in the right; and she could not bring herself to say this.
"Speak the word slowly as though a whisper can be judged." The Freckled One
"The problem with designing something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of a complete fool." Douglas Adams
"Just because your voice reaches halfway around the world doesn't mean you are wiser than when it reached only to the end of the bar." Edward R. Murrow
"Would you like some human with your salt?" Nd-Nd in "The Problem with Popplers" Futurama epsiode 2:15
"When you can't run anymore, you crawl... and when you can't do that, you find someone... to carry you." Firefly:The Message
"The gospel is meant to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." Garrison Keillor
