Today I woke up to rain. Big Rain. It was before 7, and that is not my usual time. I'm a sleeper inner. Anyway, about the big rain..... It was noisy, and gray and dismal, and the sun wasn't quite up. I kind of groaned, because as I heard the rain, my thoughts turned to Jennifer. Jennifer is a friend, not a close friend, but a friend non the less, and today, in the rain, the big rain, the noisy, big, gray and dismal rain Jennifer was burying her husband Doug. Doug had succumbed to cancer after a 5 year war with it. Doug used to hug me in the hall at church, his church being all finished and mine being about to start....and I would look at him and tell him I was so proud of him for shrinking the tumors in his lungs...then his brain...then his adrenal glands...then eventually his valiant try with his liver. My stomach did a little lurching, thinking about Jennifer, and her family, going to the cemetery on this gray day. So Not Fair.
I got to the funeral early, so I could maybe see her, and hug her, and tell her she could do it. I did it all, I saw, I hugged, and I told. Our eyes welled up with tears together, two women, not close friends, but nonetheless two women who had a shared experience of broken hearts. I felt my stability shift just a bit. My heart ached. Ached mostly for her...but to be honest, it also ached for me.
Its been 9 years since we have planned a funeral, dressed a body and had a burial day. I have come a long way. It has taken years and years. In those years I have learned better how to walk around with the wound that loss weaves into your fibers. Sometimes, however, life has events that bring you back to the wound and you are reminded. Reminded of it all: the loss, the saddness, the grief.
Nevertheless, I'm here to say that being pushed back to that place of sadness is OK. I would even go so far as to say that it is Good.
While they were bringing Doug into the chapel for the funeral, we all stood up out of respect. I'm not going to lie, I started to struggle a little. I felt an arm reach around my waist from the left. Then I felt an arm from the right inch around my shoulders. What is not Good about being reminded that you have people in your life who will help you bear your burdens?
While listening to Doug's children tell wonderful stories about their dad, I was sent back to the stories that my son told of his dad at our funeral. What is not Good about being reminded that you had people in your life whose love trickled down: from them to you to your children and all around and back again?
While listening to a speaker teach the congregation about God's great plan of happiness, the Redeemer of Mankind, and the hope of an eternal reunion on resurrection morning, I was transported to a place of hope and certainty of my beliefs. What is not Good about being reminded of God's love for all mankind, and His plan to reunite families together forever? What could be Better?
I believe that there is good, and I believe that there is evil in this world. I believe that cancer is evil. It destroys, it maims, it disfigures, it brings strong to weak. Pure. Stinking. Evil. I heard a line from the funeral today, that was uttered right after Doug died. (paraphrasing here)
"Cancer has lost. It did not win. The cancer will not continue to grow and flourish, but is now dead, and deteriorating, lifeless, stagnant, and still. Its remains are in a state of atrophy even now.. On the other hand, Doug has won. He has beat the cancer, for he continues to live, to think, to feel, to care, to do, and to be. He exists still, and he will continue on throughout eternity."
Good triumphs over evil.
Life triumphs over death.
Togetherness triumphs over loneliness,.
Joy triumphs over sorrow.
A push back to that place, the place, while I wouldn't want it every day, is a blessed reminder of all things that are Good.
And since from time to time I have to be in the place, I'm grateful that the place can also shine a bright light on the Good.
My wish is to soak up all that Good..... soak it up just as fast as humanly possible.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Booyah!
Will the World Be a Better Place if I clue you in on the fact that this morning I had pumpkin pie for breakfast and whipped cream from a can was included and I sounded a little like a nursing baby humming it's way through a feeding and then I sprayed a little whipped cream right into my mouth like I'm the only one who lives here?
It feels so good to do service.
It feels so good to do service.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Gratitude, Poof, Spanx.
I have been writing a weekly email for the women that go to my church. After wishing everyone happy birthday and putting in an uplifting quote and sharing everybody's good news and including a calendar with items such as a nativity festival that is needing nativities to display, (its borderline oxymoronic) I finished the email with my own little list of
what I’m grateful for.
“A 10 Little Things Mommacita is Grateful for Which is Not an All Inclusive List” is the title I gave this list. And there was no premeditation for this list. I made it up as I went along. And it shows. Not a lot of thought went into it......OK???????
This is not to say I’m not grateful for the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the love of family and friends and a body that works most of the time, and all the other big things that bless my life... Of COURSE I am grateful for those. So don't get all harummmmphed and call me out on my dumb gratitude list. Even if you are tempted. Which I’m sure you’re not. Even though I just implied that you were.
I made this list to keep people reading the emails. The women seem to need a bit of fluff and poof amidst their calendar items for the week to keep them from hitting the delete button or worse yet the send this to spam button. I have since tweaked the list to make it blogworthy. I hate to insult my readers, all 5 of you, but lets be honest....you like a little fluff and poof yourself.
I hope I'm not saying anything wrong when I say fluff and poof. I really am making this up as I'm going along. If it is an innuendo for something awful I do it in innocence. Forgiveness mandatory and let us never speak of this again.
Soooooo-oo, Since I have not given you a blog yet, and since it is already written, and since I am lazy, and since you're saying to yourself "What the heck Mommacita just give us the silly list, because don't you think we deserve it after all this silliness, sometimes you drive us crazy with all your fluff and poofiness", I give to you a very unspecial list:
“A 10 Little Things Mommacita is Grateful for Which is Not an All Inclusive List” is the title I gave this list. And there was no premeditation for this list. I made it up as I went along. And it shows. Not a lot of thought went into it......OK???????
This is not to say I’m not grateful for the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the love of family and friends and a body that works most of the time, and all the other big things that bless my life... Of COURSE I am grateful for those. So don't get all harummmmphed and call me out on my dumb gratitude list. Even if you are tempted. Which I’m sure you’re not. Even though I just implied that you were.
I made this list to keep people reading the emails. The women seem to need a bit of fluff and poof amidst their calendar items for the week to keep them from hitting the delete button or worse yet the send this to spam button. I have since tweaked the list to make it blogworthy. I hate to insult my readers, all 5 of you, but lets be honest....you like a little fluff and poof yourself.
I hope I'm not saying anything wrong when I say fluff and poof. I really am making this up as I'm going along. If it is an innuendo for something awful I do it in innocence. Forgiveness mandatory and let us never speak of this again.
Soooooo-oo, Since I have not given you a blog yet, and since it is already written, and since I am lazy, and since you're saying to yourself "What the heck Mommacita just give us the silly list, because don't you think we deserve it after all this silliness, sometimes you drive us crazy with all your fluff and poofiness", I give to you a very unspecial list:
“10 Little Things Mommacita is Grateful for Which is Not
an All Inclusive List”
- A warm house on a windy, rainy, putrid Sunday night, And my calendar says I can stay out of the wind and the rain and the pue and the trid. This was not the case tonight, but maybe someday it will be.
- Family ties- just knowing I have some is good.
- Skin perfecting make-up. And I promise next week's blog will not even have the work MAKE-UP in it. Because I'm just as sick of this subject as you are.
- A monthly day of beauty which is really just a haircut and a color
- Gas is not 10 bucks a gallon
- Ice. Yes. I love ice. In my beverages. And yes. It’s a REALLY little thing. And by the way, I am grateful for a hot shower with just as much passion.
- 4 granddaughters and 3 grandsons who like me. It’s the liking me part that I’m grateful for. This is not a little thing and technically should not be on this list but I’m a grandmother and have to talk about them. It’s the law.
- When I go to Costco and the rain lets up while I’m loading my car. Any Northwesterner understands this and if you are a NWer then we are soul sisters on this one
- Good TV. I just loves me some good TV. Oh yeah, and books. And algebraic equations. OK, I lied a teensy here but I refuse to tell you where.
- Eyes that are ABLE to read without Reading glasses but still have the OPTION to read WITH reading glasses if I want to or need to. Sheesh this is tiring
- Spanx. And I know that’s 11 on a list that says 10 in the title. But how could I not be Thankful for something that does so much for so many who need a little help here and there? Spanx are truly a compassion based unmentionable. If I happened to be an unmentionable, I might look to Spanx as a role model.
There
are more, but as you can see, this list is a little scary because I think I just said that I would use a girdle as a role model. Stream of consciousness is the devil.
I will spare you any more, “10 Little Things Mommacita is Grateful for Which is Not
an All Inclusive List” items which will put my act of sparing you at the top of
YOUR “10 Little Things you the READER is Grateful for Which is Not
an All Inclusive List”
You the READER have bad grammar. Just saying.
I'm just tired now.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Makeup Removal
Today We're talking about Make-up. Maybe its because it might be on my mind from confessing about my eyebrows. Maybe its from having a dream about Glitch being in a skit while shaving my head as I lay sleeping. Despite the reason, you're getting my psychotic views on make-up, or more precisely, my psychotic views on makeup and the aging American Caucasian Woman.
My big question today is:
I've been doing an informal study over the past, say, 500 months. I have been studying the faces of women who are at least 10 years older than I am (yes, I am at least 500 months old. At first I wasn't sure, but now I am because I just did the math on a calculator that (oddly enough) has keys that are 1 inch by 1 inch so aging people can see them)
While studying, my feelings went from a "hmm-m how odd" to full on fear.
These are some of the things that I fear:
1.) I fear I will become that woman who doesn't know that less is more. You know her. Eyelids a little too turquoise, lips a little to red, cheeks a little too circular, skin a little too puttied. I fear that sometimes I have crossed that line. I have tendencies. Particularly when I'm experimenting with some eyeshadow that was free in a gift with purchase that if truth be told, I know is wrong for me but I just keep trying to put that square peg in a round hole.
2.) I fear that I will become that woman who can't see and her kids should step up to the plate and take away her lip liner so that she doesn't go to church with "Plum Crazy" eyebrows. Don't scoff. I know a person who did this. I also saw a woman who drew her eyebrows ABOVE her real eyebrows. And all four corners were squared off as if a stencil was used with a can of spray paint. The whole thing was a rectangle arch situation. I became paralyzed, absolutely paralyzed with fear. She had double eyebrows. Like a rainbow. The top set were dark. The bottom set were hairy. I couldn't stop starring. Or feeling scared. I think this is the woman who I fear the most.
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3.) I also fear I will be that woman that says waaaaaaaaaay too soon, "Hey, I'm over (insert age here), so I don't need makeup any more" and so she, after covering her age spots up for (insert number here) years, just relaxes and lets them flap in the breeze. Like a tush in a hospital gown. I especially don't care that when 'flap in the breeze woman' was 13, she and her friend down the street used to lay out in the sun with baby oil smeared on every surface while listening to the Monkeys on KPIX Radio and were even known to call the station to request a song for a boy named David Croft that someone not me was crushing on. Should anyone have to look at 45 year old sun damage or a tush that is flapping before they absolutely have to??.
My big question today is:
HOW LONG IN AN AGING AMERICAN CAUCASIAN WOMAN'S LIFE
(assuming she is NOT a natural beauty and is CLEARLY a woman who needs to wear
makeup every stinking day of her life)
DOES SAID WOMAN HAVE TO CONTINUE WITH THE PURCHASING
OF MAKEUP, THE APPLYING OF MAKEUP, THE TOUCHING UP OF MAKEUP, AND THE REMOVING OF MAKEUP?
Or in other words... is there an end to my maddeningly boring makeup ritual? Is there mercy in this lifetime? Is there? IS THERE?????
I've been doing an informal study over the past, say, 500 months. I have been studying the faces of women who are at least 10 years older than I am (yes, I am at least 500 months old. At first I wasn't sure, but now I am because I just did the math on a calculator that (oddly enough) has keys that are 1 inch by 1 inch so aging people can see them)
While studying, my feelings went from a "hmm-m how odd" to full on fear.
These are some of the things that I fear:
1.) I fear I will become that woman who doesn't know that less is more. You know her. Eyelids a little too turquoise, lips a little to red, cheeks a little too circular, skin a little too puttied. I fear that sometimes I have crossed that line. I have tendencies. Particularly when I'm experimenting with some eyeshadow that was free in a gift with purchase that if truth be told, I know is wrong for me but I just keep trying to put that square peg in a round hole.
It could happen
2.) I fear that I will become that woman who can't see and her kids should step up to the plate and take away her lip liner so that she doesn't go to church with "Plum Crazy" eyebrows. Don't scoff. I know a person who did this. I also saw a woman who drew her eyebrows ABOVE her real eyebrows. And all four corners were squared off as if a stencil was used with a can of spray paint. The whole thing was a rectangle arch situation. I became paralyzed, absolutely paralyzed with fear. She had double eyebrows. Like a rainbow. The top set were dark. The bottom set were hairy. I couldn't stop starring. Or feeling scared. I think this is the woman who I fear the most.
No eyebrows AND outside the lines. Behold my future
3.) I also fear I will be that woman that says waaaaaaaaaay too soon, "Hey, I'm over (insert age here), so I don't need makeup any more" and so she, after covering her age spots up for (insert number here) years, just relaxes and lets them flap in the breeze. Like a tush in a hospital gown. I especially don't care that when 'flap in the breeze woman' was 13, she and her friend down the street used to lay out in the sun with baby oil smeared on every surface while listening to the Monkeys on KPIX Radio and were even known to call the station to request a song for a boy named David Croft that someone not me was crushing on. Should anyone have to look at 45 year old sun damage or a tush that is flapping before they absolutely have to??.
they don't call 'em liver spots for nothin'
I could avoid all this dopey stuff if only I turned down the vanity knob a notch or two.
But then I would have to blog about my fears of loosing my inner beauty as I age, due to repressed anger from man's inhumanity to man.
You like the shallow me. I just know it.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Sabbath Confessional
So.
Racking my brain here.
Trying to find a subject.
From my mundane existence.
Don't get me wrong. I cherish the mundane. I seek the mundane. The mundane pleaseth me. Because even in the mundane, there is always TV.
So in desperation, I've decided to tell some of my secrets.
Since I have never leaked these secrets to only those who know me well, I stand at the edge of risk. Now you will all know these things. Am I ready for it? Am I confident enough for this kind of exposure? I don't think I am. But onward I trudge through the muck. Hold your head high, Mommacita. You're about to reach unalterable exposure. This is almost like TMZ. Without the cameras and high risk paparazzi chase down I-5.
So, now, I give to you my 5 readers, some unknown facts about me, a delightful woman of mystery.
Please be kind I implore you. Just because I'm writing it here, doesn't mean I want to talk with ANY of you about it face to face. If you do, I will turn into a 13 year old girl and run screaming from the room with a door slam that will quake the earth.
Confessional #1
I DRAW MY EYEBROWS ON EVERY SINGLE DAY EXCEPT THE DAYS I MIGHT HAVE FOOD POISONING OR MORNING SICKNESS. NO, THIS IS NOT AN ANNOUNCEMENT.
Yes. This is embarrassing. Mainly because when people see me without eyebrows on they can't help themselves by saying something obnoxious like, "Gee, you look so different" or "Gee, you look like an old woman" The latter was said to me in my freshman dorm room the first week of my college experience right after I had left the bosom of my childhood home. Yes. I was scarred for life. But mainly because the scenario was repeated each time I got a new roommate, a child learned to talk, I went to girls camp etc. etc. etc. Sometimes I look at older women and think, hey, you don't draw your eyebrows on and YOU'RE getting away with it does that mean I will get away with it at 40? Then I turned 40. So I changed the age to 50. Then I turned 50. Well, you get the drift. I will be drawing these babies on until I die. And don't tell me to get them dyed. I've tried. My eyebrows are made of plastic fishing line and have you ever tried to dye plastic fishing line? So yeah. I became an art major in college so I might draw.
PS I was at a ST Louis Nordstrom 2 years ago and a Mac Representative finally showed me how to do it right. I love thinking about walking around for 55 years with stupid eyebrows. Dig hole, jump in, pull dirt in after me.
Confessional #2
My dirtiest little secret is that I READ OBITUARIES IN THE SALT LAKE CITY DESERET NEWS AT LEAST ONCE MAYBE TWICE A WEEK.
I know. IT"S WEIRD!!!!!!! I was visiting my parents once, and while watching the paint on the walls age I picked up the newspaper and saw an obituary in the Deseret News for a DOG. You heard me. A DOG. It was a little white one. It was mixed right in there with everybody's beloved Daughter, Wife, Mother, Sister, Grandmother, Aunt, and Friend. The dogs owners really missed that dog alot. So after reading about the life of the dog, I started reading the obituaries around it. I kind of liked them. Everyone was different. Some were mushy: "Grandma was the most sweetest most kindest most cutest Grandma in the universe." Some were succinct: "Jerimiah is dead. Obituaries cost a fortune. The end." Some were for little babies. I always felt true sorrow. Some were for children. Same reaction. Some were for family members of people I went to school with. Some oozed love. Some were full of respect. Some are poorly written which would most likely pose the question "Got Proofreader?". Some were beautifully written which really did leave the world a better place not like this ridiculousness piece of bleh. Anyway, I've never found any obits that rival the ones in the Deseret News. It's because they'll obit anyone including a dog. Even though I've been searching and searching, I have never found another dog one. Dog ones kill me. I'm sure there has been one, but its just too weird to look online in another city's obituary page more than once maybe twice a week.
I just like thinking about a person's life and their weird family. Is that so wrong?
Aren't you glad there's people out there who appreciate other people's efforts?
What?
No. I am not trying to make weird normal. Its weird and I own it.
Confessional #3
I CAN"T WATCH ANY OF THOSE 'HOARDER' SHOWS ON TV BECAUSE I GET NAUSEOUS AND I START RETCHING.
This is NOT a lie. The thought of a house full of cat skeletons and rodent poop makes me sick. Not to mention all that stinky junk.
Confessional #4
I HOARD HAIR PRODUCTS.
I love everything about hair products. I love the smell, I love the thought of trying a new one, I love the thrill of finding a really great one, and this goes for everything from shampoo to hairspray. And my friend has a niece with her beautician's license and sometimes I get to go with them to the beauty supply store, and the thought of hair products at a discounted price makes me absolutely giddy!!!! I can't stop buying them because what if I never ever ever get to go to a beauty supply store again (even though they will take me whenever I want). I am compelled to buy 5 of one thing and then I find a better product so I'm stuck with 4 bottles of Sugar Shock up in my closet. It is a problem people. I'm not a rich woman.
This needs to be over. I can't take any more confessionals today. I'm all vulnerable and naked now and I've spent my life trying to be clothed because, just trust me, it's better that way.
And I'm all about the world being better.
Racking my brain here.
Trying to find a subject.
From my mundane existence.
Don't get me wrong. I cherish the mundane. I seek the mundane. The mundane pleaseth me. Because even in the mundane, there is always TV.
So in desperation, I've decided to tell some of my secrets.
Since I have never leaked these secrets to only those who know me well, I stand at the edge of risk. Now you will all know these things. Am I ready for it? Am I confident enough for this kind of exposure? I don't think I am. But onward I trudge through the muck. Hold your head high, Mommacita. You're about to reach unalterable exposure. This is almost like TMZ. Without the cameras and high risk paparazzi chase down I-5.
So, now, I give to you my 5 readers, some unknown facts about me, a delightful woman of mystery.
Please be kind I implore you. Just because I'm writing it here, doesn't mean I want to talk with ANY of you about it face to face. If you do, I will turn into a 13 year old girl and run screaming from the room with a door slam that will quake the earth.
Confessional #1
I DRAW MY EYEBROWS ON EVERY SINGLE DAY EXCEPT THE DAYS I MIGHT HAVE FOOD POISONING OR MORNING SICKNESS. NO, THIS IS NOT AN ANNOUNCEMENT.
Yes. This is embarrassing. Mainly because when people see me without eyebrows on they can't help themselves by saying something obnoxious like, "Gee, you look so different" or "Gee, you look like an old woman" The latter was said to me in my freshman dorm room the first week of my college experience right after I had left the bosom of my childhood home. Yes. I was scarred for life. But mainly because the scenario was repeated each time I got a new roommate, a child learned to talk, I went to girls camp etc. etc. etc. Sometimes I look at older women and think, hey, you don't draw your eyebrows on and YOU'RE getting away with it does that mean I will get away with it at 40? Then I turned 40. So I changed the age to 50. Then I turned 50. Well, you get the drift. I will be drawing these babies on until I die. And don't tell me to get them dyed. I've tried. My eyebrows are made of plastic fishing line and have you ever tried to dye plastic fishing line? So yeah. I became an art major in college so I might draw.
PS I was at a ST Louis Nordstrom 2 years ago and a Mac Representative finally showed me how to do it right. I love thinking about walking around for 55 years with stupid eyebrows. Dig hole, jump in, pull dirt in after me.
Confessional #2
My dirtiest little secret is that I READ OBITUARIES IN THE SALT LAKE CITY DESERET NEWS AT LEAST ONCE MAYBE TWICE A WEEK.
I know. IT"S WEIRD!!!!!!! I was visiting my parents once, and while watching the paint on the walls age I picked up the newspaper and saw an obituary in the Deseret News for a DOG. You heard me. A DOG. It was a little white one. It was mixed right in there with everybody's beloved Daughter, Wife, Mother, Sister, Grandmother, Aunt, and Friend. The dogs owners really missed that dog alot. So after reading about the life of the dog, I started reading the obituaries around it. I kind of liked them. Everyone was different. Some were mushy: "Grandma was the most sweetest most kindest most cutest Grandma in the universe." Some were succinct: "Jerimiah is dead. Obituaries cost a fortune. The end." Some were for little babies. I always felt true sorrow. Some were for children. Same reaction. Some were for family members of people I went to school with. Some oozed love. Some were full of respect. Some are poorly written which would most likely pose the question "Got Proofreader?". Some were beautifully written which really did leave the world a better place not like this ridiculousness piece of bleh. Anyway, I've never found any obits that rival the ones in the Deseret News. It's because they'll obit anyone including a dog. Even though I've been searching and searching, I have never found another dog one. Dog ones kill me. I'm sure there has been one, but its just too weird to look online in another city's obituary page more than once maybe twice a week.
I just like thinking about a person's life and their weird family. Is that so wrong?
Aren't you glad there's people out there who appreciate other people's efforts?
What?
No. I am not trying to make weird normal. Its weird and I own it.
Confessional #3
I CAN"T WATCH ANY OF THOSE 'HOARDER' SHOWS ON TV BECAUSE I GET NAUSEOUS AND I START RETCHING.
This is NOT a lie. The thought of a house full of cat skeletons and rodent poop makes me sick. Not to mention all that stinky junk.
Confessional #4
I HOARD HAIR PRODUCTS.
I love everything about hair products. I love the smell, I love the thought of trying a new one, I love the thrill of finding a really great one, and this goes for everything from shampoo to hairspray. And my friend has a niece with her beautician's license and sometimes I get to go with them to the beauty supply store, and the thought of hair products at a discounted price makes me absolutely giddy!!!! I can't stop buying them because what if I never ever ever get to go to a beauty supply store again (even though they will take me whenever I want). I am compelled to buy 5 of one thing and then I find a better product so I'm stuck with 4 bottles of Sugar Shock up in my closet. It is a problem people. I'm not a rich woman.
This needs to be over. I can't take any more confessionals today. I'm all vulnerable and naked now and I've spent my life trying to be clothed because, just trust me, it's better that way.
And I'm all about the world being better.
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