Beggar's Shot Glass

I've Moved On

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 00:02:00 +0000

I've moved on and there's no turning back. I'm in a place where I can let lose, speak freely, and just hang out.

I will be closing this space in one week's time. Thank you all who have stuck by me; your kindness has not been forgotten.

If you haven't gotten ahold of me (or heard from me) via email yet, I would still like your email. :-)

Needed: Emails

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 01:35:00 +0000

I have a few readers where I can't find your emails. I'd like them, please. I can't say why on here, but I promise not to spam you.

Since comments are moderated, I promise not to publish any comment that you leave that has your email. However, you can just send me an email at beggarsshotglass at gmail dot com and I will reply.

Just so I don't get you worried, it's not THAT important, just a little something...

Sometimes Pain is a Blessing

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 18:16:00 +0000

Something happened yesterday that caused me to cringe. It was a small, seemingly insignificant ouchie, but it stung nonetheless.

Pain is sometimes a great teacher. Through my pain, I learned what I have to do about certain situations.

This got me reviewing other recent events (and by recent I mean the past month or so) and how each little prick has pushed me into another direction. It's not an about-face change, but a shift onto the right path. Although I hadn't intended to, at some point in the night I managed to walk through another gateway.

Life here in my home bends, at times, to accommodate the changes around us. It bends, but it doesn't break. It is distorted, temporarily, but it manages to come back into it's true shape. I'm learning to bend with it, not against it.

All of those things I was DYING to share the other day have dissolved with one realization. Some things just don't matter.

I am so grateful for the things I do have, for the choices that are abundantly spread out before me. I am eager to share my love with my children and husband and friends. I am eager, also, to give up trying to convince people that I am not who they think I am. Mostly, I have, but there are a few in my life that I long for them to just see me.

I can't force that, I now know. I can only move myself to or away from those people or situations. I can choose what I spend on/with them.

There is no greater satisfaction than knowing I finally have my own back.

Painfully Introverted

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 17:40:00 +0000

Not for the first time, I have found myself crippled at the desk, unable to share all of my thoughts or experiences. I have written, and deleted, about ten posts detailing the adventures in Sue-land.

And yet, here I am. I can't share. It's none of your business, but although I want to share, I can't.

I read blogs about people going through divorces, separation, loss, people who bare their open wounds to the world, raw and bleeding. I want to wrap my arms around them.

I read blogs about funny things that happened on the job, while traveling, or just talking to their best friend. I laugh and nod my head, sometimes choking on coffee or wiping tears from my eyes.

I read blogs that are pretty mundane, but just interesting enough to pique my interest. I keep coming back for more.

And then there is my blog, which lays dormant. Whatever riches I have floating around in my head are transported to a private journal and practically nothing gets aired here.

Except frustration. And I don't want this to be a frustration blog. There's far more to my life, more joy and tears and experience, than I share here. I have given you a very shallow glimpse of all that I can be, and it makes me sick inside.

But I can't share.

And this leaves me stumped as to what to talk about, if anything. I wonder if this truly is the absolute end of my blogging. I've teased, I've threatened, I've privatized, but I've never truly stopped blogging. Where does this leave me now?

I think part of the problem is that I feel I cannot be as open about things here as I'd like to be. Would moving to a new blog and creating a faux-identity solve this? Could I pull it off? I don't know, but I know I want to try. I want to share. I need to share. At times the urge to share is painful, because I can't.

We'll see how this goes.

Some unrelated bullets:

* I can't believe there is Sex Rehab. I suppose I am a bit sheltered.

* This reminded me of my daughter. (Remember this post?)

* It really irritates me that every time I hunker down to start exercising, something comes along and knocks me off track. Although I can't say the interruptions are unwelcome, it does leave me frustrated that I have to start all over again.

* "Real" from Real Chance of love was wearing an inside-out french braid. We should take away his man card. THAT is why I watch VH1's trashy reality love specials, because it's funny to laugh at people doing stupid shit, even if it IS scripted.

* I was without internet for an entire weekend, and I didn't even notice. I'm so proud of myself.

When Everything Will Kill You

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 11:28:00 +0000

Nobody warned me that my child may go through a phase when everything scared her so bad she was afraid it would kill her. But since her accident last year, it's been one incident after another. At first, I tried hard to relieve her anxiety. That didn't work. My calmness freaked her out more. After a while, it was funny.. Now, more than a year after it started, I am no longer amused by it, so I'm just waiting for it to end. I don't know how else to handle it.

Here are a few examples of how she makes mountains out of molehills.

I pulled a bag of bagels out of the freezer. They expired the day before, but since they were frozen (and neither stale nor moldy) they are OK to eat, right? Lauren eats half a bagel, spies the date, and throws them out.

"Mommy, is my face bleeding?" she's rubbing her forehead.
"I can't see with your hand in the way. Wait... weren't you just standing in front of a mirror?" I ask.
"Yes, but, I hit my head on the mirror when I was brushing my teeth. It hurt! Will I die?" Her eyes are wide with worry.
I could have fun with this, but I won't.

"Mommy, am I going to be OK!? I got a little bit of moisturizer on my lip!!!" She's quite anxious about this, too.
"Just wash your lip off." I say.
"I've already washed my entire mouth, like a hundred times!" she replies, still a bit frantic. The fear in her eyes would be devastating if it wasn't Lauren.
"Then you'll be fine."
She whimpers and walks away, still fretting and rubbing her lip.

"Mommy!! Is it OK to eat something healthy for breakfast and then something sugary? Will it do anything to me?!?" she asks me.

When will this phase end?

They're Just Dots

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 20:52:00 +0000

I'm totally ripping off a lot of bloggers by posting bullets today (though not necessarily because it's Sunday, although one blogger comes to mind), but I don't care. They're just dots. And they connect only to the words following them, but not necessarily to each other.

It always amazes me how people can just disappear. It frightens me, too. Where do they go? I've known several people in my past. Several who have *poof* disappeared. Some intentionally via removing all personally identifying information from the web. One from mysterious circumstances. And a few from simply losing contact and me not having the faintest idea of where to look. Facebook doesn't help. Neither does Google. Yes, I've tried, and yes the thought did pass through my head that it's a little stalker-ish, but if you go decades without hearing from a childhood friend, you might just have a day when you wonder about them. I try not to obsess on the 'not knowing' part and just accept it.

Nobody can prepare you for your own personal parenting experience. You might know what is on the horizon, but the details are too blurry until you get close. Not too close, or all you'll be able to see are those details. I have to constantly remind myself that my purpose as a parent is to bring up this child in a way that they will succeed in life. Sounds simple, right? But nobody prepared me for some of the specific challenges I would face. It tests me, and I tend to get testy back.

I'm trying to figure out how to make money from my talents. I've already decided that portrait sessions are (for the most part) a bust. I dislike that genre. Very much. So, I want to learn about stock photography or something similar. Any suggestions/ideas? I've done a few things, but I need some tailored guidance, I suppose. And some confidence. Am I ready to play with the big boys, or should I forge my own path?

I also feel as if I am finally coming out of a fog of confusion. It's been a long journey so far, and it will never end. I no longer feel despair knowing that my life is always a journey. There will be checkpoints, but it's always a journey. The past year was quite possibly the best year of my life, so far.

I discovered one of my special gifts the other day. I'm not going to share this one, but it was SO wondermous to FEEL it, to know it. Recognizing a gift for what it is leaves room only for joy and appreciation.

Saturday morning I took a picture of one of my co-workers helping me out. *smile* He scoffed. Without missing a beat, I said to him, "You'll never be that young again." I love the look on his face as the statement washed over him. "I suppose that's true." he said.

One last thing. Allergies SUCK. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Did you notice how the bullets got shorter as I came down?

It's Pointless Because It's Drivel

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 16:10:00 +0000

Once upon a time I had a lot to say. I said it well, too.

Then I had a few life-altering experiences and suddenly I have nothing to say. I have a lot I could talk about, but it feels like a betrayal to share. Some things are better left unsaid.

That leaves this blog rather uninteresting. I know it does. I get bored reading my own blog. I used to be able to sort through archives and laugh and point and 'remember when?' at them, but now.. I fall asleep.

Where's the creativity? The spunk? The Spitfire? Am I reduced to endless drivel?

I admit, too, that I devoted far too much time to the internet and the blogsophere. It hurt my family (in more ways than one). And I was hurting. Blogging didn't satisfy what I thought it would.

Blogging didn't fulfill the needs I had hoped it would, and this was the very reason I started blogging in the first place, to fulfill the needs I couldn't fulfill offline.

Knowing this, I'm left contemplating my very purpose for being here. Many have already moved on (can't say that I blame them).

This post is so pointless that I can't even think of a way to end it.

When I find a purpose, maybe then I will rediscover my muse.

Fall Into Me

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 22:00:00 +0000

"Where are you, Sue?" he whispered to me.

I can't answer him, so I look out the window. I don't know where I am, but it feels good. This place inside of myself is where I fall into my sanctuary, where I lean into the universe.

It's raining and dark outside, but it feels comforting, not gloomy. There is a sweetness to it. Refreshing.

Where am I? I'm right here. My mom used to say, "wherever you go, there you are." I'm not sure where she heard that, but it's true. Here, I am.

I feel him staring at me, inquiring. Then, I feel him relax and look off into the distance. He is also here, there, inside.

I smile a crooked smile and a small chuckle escapes. It's good to know I am not alone.

Quit Buggin' Me

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 02:44:00 +0000

I don't know what it is, lately, but I just can't shake this.

Something is definitely bugging me...

Forgiveness Starts At Home

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 13:00:00 +0000

It is very easy to forgive others their mistakes; it takes more grit and gumption to forgive them for having witnessed your own. —Jessamyn West

You've heard the phrase "Charity starts at home" right? (You have now, at least.)

So does forgiveness.

It's been a while since a past mistake rankled me or got under my skin. Somebody would remind me of what I did in the past and, aside from the occasional irritation at the mention of it (seriously, why are they bringing it up now?), I would let usually let it pass and be on with my life. I am (mostly) comfy in who I have become.

There are times, though, when it hurts. When my past is thrust into my face for no reason but to deliberately insult me and cut me down; to make me FEEL hurt. Rather than see that it's the offender's problem, sometimes I let it burn and sizzle inside.

I know enough now that those times are when I need to be aware of what's really bothering me. What's going on below the surface? And the truth is, some of my past mistakes have gone unforgiven. I haven't bothered forgiving myself, or I deliberately refused to because I felt I didn't deserve (my own) forgiveness.

So it sits there, stinging, lingering. I let the words somebody else chose to say to me, about me, rip me up inside because I felt as if I deserved it.

And then? Then I realized that I really did need to give myself some time and allow room for me to forgive myself. (I did. *warm smile* I did.)

The past is the past. I cannot change it. I can delete blogs, burn letters, and block memories, but I cannot change what has happened, only how I view it and feel about it. And nothing changes until I can accept it, love it, forgive it, and let it go.

The funny thing about self-forgiveness is that once I did it, I found that my view of the past was much different than how I saw it from within the pit of anger. Once I forgave myself, I found it quite easy to forgive those who have moved to hurt me.

I am forgiven, and so are you.

Take A Good, Long Look in the Mirror

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000

When you write a personal journal, you are giving yourself a means to see your own soul unfiltered.

Putting pen to paper (or fingers to keys) is a quick and effective means of seeing what you're really thinking, made of, and where you are going, truly.

If you can't be honest with yourself in your journal, then that should be a wake up call.

What else is a wake up call? Wait a few days, and re-read what you wrote. I'm willing to bet a sandwich that you'll see something from a different angle. (not a tuna sandwich, though, that would seem kinda fishy, don't you think?)

Personal writing reminds of the Magic Mirror Gate in The Neverending Story. This, if you haven't already guessed, was one of my favorite movies as a child. However, I never grasped the concept of the second gate until I was in my mid-twenties. Read on...

"Where were we?" Engywook asked.

"At the Great Riddle Gate," Atreyu reminded him.

"Right. Now suppose you've managed to get through. Then - and only then - the second gate will be there for you. The Magic Mirror Gate. As I've said, I myself have not been able to observe it, what I tell you has been gleaned from travelers' accounts.

"This second gate is both open and closed. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? It might be better to say: neither closed nor open. Though that doesn't make it any less crazy. The point is that this gate seems to be a big mirror or something of the kind, though it's made neither of glass nor of metal. What it is made of, no one has ever been able to tell me.

"Anyway, when you stand before it, you see yourself. But not as you would in an ordinary mirror. You don't see your outward appearance; what you see is your real innermost nature. If you want to go through, you have to - in a manner of speaking - go into yourself."

"Well," said Atreyu. "It seems to me that this Magic Mirror Gate is easier to get through than the first."

"Wrong!" cried Engywook. Once again he began to trot back and forth in agitation. "Dead wrong, my friend! I've known travelers who considered themselves absolutely blameless to yelp with horror and run away at the sight of the monster grinning out of the mirror at them. We had to care for some of them for weeks before they were even able to start home."

"We!" growled Urgl, who was passing with another bucket of water. "I keep hearing we. When did you ever take care of anybody?"
Engywook waved her away.

"Others," he went on lecturing, "appear to have seen something even more horrible, but had the courage to go through. What some saw was not so frightening, but it still cost every one of them an inner struggle. Nothing I can say would apply to all. It's a different experience each time."

"Good," said Atreyu. "Then at least it's possible to go through this Magic Mirror Gate?"

"Oh yes, of course it's possible, or it wouldn't be a gate. Where's your logic, my boy?"

"But it's also possible to go around it," said Atreyu. "Or isn't it?"

"Yes indeed," said Engywook. "Of course it is. But if you do that, there's nothing more behind it. The third gate isn't there until you've gone through the second."

(The Magic Mirror Gate from The Neverending Story)

What do you see when you look in the mirror?

I have

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 16:31:00 +0000

I have found that I have nothing left to say.

This is all at once inadequate, too much, and just enough.

[...]

Recyling the Pangs of Yesteryear

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 10:00:00 +0000

Yesterday's post was rescued out of perpetual draft status. I had loads of fun reading through the failed blog posts, the ones that never made it to the world.

A few of them I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. What was I thinking? What was I on?

Some of them are still a bit too personal to share, and I felt myself reaching out to the girl behind the words, wanting to hold and embrace her, love her.

The rest? SO.GLAD I never hit publish. I at least had some semblance of common sense brewing back then to let things lie.

Do you have unpublished drafts lying in wait?

Setting the unpublished side of me to the side, I found an old, old, OLD blog post from spring of 2007, on a blog I haven't used for almost two years.

Today's post comes from the distant past.

"You are your own worst enemy."

Strictly to the point, that phrase has followed me most of my life. A cliche, and yet, so purposefully real to me. I am, in many ways, my own worst enemy.

I challenge myself to confront adversity, but I cower beneath its commanding presence. The inability to make a solid decision for myself, or for the ones I love, has weakened me and stripped me of almost all dignity I might have carried when I was younger. It is painful to me, physically and emotionally, both to remain in repose and to move ahead in any direction.

Is it the uncertainty or the certainty that seizes me? I am certain of what will, can, and should happen. I am uncertain if it is best to move, or even if I should stay put. A leaf in a stream, but at times I find myself "up that well-known tributary without proper means of conveyance." (The words of a late, great high school teacher of mine.)

Again I discover that my unwillingness to act has left me weary and barren of the smallest glint of stamina. Life is a race, and I have not the endurance to keep pace. If I stop completely, I will be trampled. If I run too fast, I will deplete myself of my own reserves. If I can't find a steady pace soon, I will find myself moving along at barely a crawl.

Hell, I'm not even sure where I am going with this. I find myself in a flood of potent—and possibly toxic—levels of emotion moving so fast that it takes me great effort to grasp any object outside of them just to keep from drowning in them.

And another phrase, wait, no, make that two phrases come to mind.

"Que sera, sera." and "This too shall pass."

Neither of which provide me with immediate comfort. I am not sure what would. I am not sad, although I do weep. I am not angry. I am, as I once said about a dream, pickled in emotional brine.

Being raised a Christian, I was taught of the love of God. As a child, however, I had quite the amusement trying to imagine how God could have loved all of us so much.

Recently, I have been given a small morsel of what it must feel like to love 'too much'. I can see why Jesus wept for all the pain in the world. I understand, because I have been privileged to experience it myself. Loving beyond what a normal human would choose is, to say the least, heartbreaking. I know that sounds utterly contradictory, but it is not. I cannot make all whom I love happy. I cannot give the best to everybody. I cannot do what is right in all eyes.

No matter which way I go, somebody hurts, somebody's needs are not fulfilled,

and it kills me inside.

Oh, my how I have changed. *warm smile* This is one of those posts that I hug myself over.

No Offense, No Defense

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 10:49:00 +0000

Somebody once told me that he was never offended. Of course, skeptical me thought of shouting "Bullshit!", but I didn't. I wanted to know how that was possible.

His logic was infallible, but it takes experience for me to adopt anything of value so it never truly sank in until recently. Now I know why he's not bothered by stuff. I truly know.

I cannot take offense, for if it's true, I have no right to be and if it's false, I have no reason.

On the reverse side, it also taught me to keep my own intentions in check before I say or do something towards others.

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. ~Anaïs Nin

Lately, although this is difficult, I have been leaning away from getting defensive. It's hard to stay mum when you want to set the record straight, but is it worth keeping a lid on it? Definitely. My words and actions will speak for themselves. I don't need to justify myself; I don't owe anybody an explanation.

"They only see what they want to see." (Cole Sear, The Sixth Sense)

If I have done wrong, I'll do my best to admit it and move on. Otherwise, I will not argue with people about their perceptions. Hey, it's their choice, not mine. I don't have to see things their way, and they don't have to see things through my eyes.

When I see what I cannot control in life, I'm less apt to try to control it. Acceptance brings happiness and freedom.

Nowhere but UP to go

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 00:26:00 +0000

"It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else's eyes." -Field, Sally

It happens, I can't lie. I have moments, days, weeks, months, where I withdraw into myself and evaluate. Are you nodding your head? You know me well, you who have been here long enough to remember all the introspective posts I've shared. I've been soul-searching for a long time.

I remember my mistakes. I know them. Whatever anybody can say about me, I've already said worse to myself. Whatever they can think, I've already thought worse. It's been dark at times. Blackness so thick it suffocates. Most of my pain is self-inflicted (emotionally, don't get worried, I'm too much a coward to hurt myself otherwise), but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

I know I bring it upon myself. I get my just desserts, so to speak. You're not telling me anything new.

But... I've changed. I know I have. I forgave myself for my past. My past is gone. What else can I do but admit I was a bitch and move on as not one? I shouldn't care what others think of me, but sometimes... sometimes (I can't lie) it really cuts me all the way down, deepest.

But this isn't a post about pessimism, or depression, or the rustling internal conflicts. This has a silver lining. It is always darkest before the dawn, they say. Only during the new moon, that is. And guess what? It's a new moon. And I have just been through a very dark night.

I know who I am. That brings me comfort. I know what I'm not. That brings me happiness. I know what I'm made of. That brings me satisfaction. I know what I'm capable of. That brings me inexpressible joy.

I've got nowhere but UP to go now. And you can't bring me back down. I won't let you.

A Very Short Story in Quotes

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 13:38:00 +0000

“Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something.” -Plato

“Judge a tree from its fruit, not from its leaves” -Euripides

“They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” -Carl W. Buechner

“Sincere forgiveness isn't colored with expectations that the other person apologize or change. Don't worry whether or not they finally understand you. Love them and release them. Life feeds back truth to people in its own way and time.” -Sara Paddison

“Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish.” -John Jakes

"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." -Martin Luther King Jr.

Life has a way of forcing me to see things I didn't want to see, or didn't realize were there already. In the last week I have learned as much as I have tried to learn in the past year, about myself, about others, about life.

It really gives me a reason to pause and reassess what I thought I knew. This may take a while.

Meant to Shine

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 11:55:00 +0000

While searching for 'inspirational sayings" this morning, I found something that absolutely hit the spot.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

-Nelson Mandela

Did you pause when you read this, too?

It really got me thinking. I hope the same for you. We are meant to shine. We are meant to share our light.

The Shake Weight: A New Excuse for Husbands

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 12:21:00 +0000

Does your husband ever try to tell you that you need more practice (*cough*) helping him out?

Does he try to convince you that it would be good for you?

Now (quite unfortunately) there is a device that he could theoretically point to (no pun intended) as a basis for his argument.

Introducing, the Shake Weight. You can't be lazy this time, you MUST click the link on your own. If you have a dirty mind, you'll see it right away.

Yes, we all know they need a good hand shake now and again. I just never, EVER imagined somebody would actually try to market a product that caters to this crowd.

And just how are we supposed to argue against 'clinical studies'?!?

I believe I have seen it all now.

Funniest Twitter Award

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 19:04:00 +0000

One of my facebook friends shared this with his friends list today. I about died laughing! I don't know if there really ARE Twitter awards, but I would give this guy's twitter feed the #1 Spot.

Shit My Dad Says

"Name Justin
Bio I'm 28. I live with my 73-year-old dad. He is awesome. I just write down shit that he says"

You're welcome.

Perfect Afternoon

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 00:01:00 +0000

It was a sunny, fair day today and nobody was home except me. I hopped into the car and headed north to the nearest Starbuck's. This is a treat, as it's a thirty minute drive. I didn't forget my mug (cup discount, woot!).

During the drive, I meditated and played a silly mind game. The game goes like this. I am the center of the universe and all I'm doing is manipulating my surroundings to bring them to me. Example. I was not moving along the road, the road was moving under me. It's a neat twist on reality and I had fun.

Today marked the debut of Starbucks' seasonal Pumpkin Spice (latte? I don't remember... it had espresso!) and I watched the barista swirl the milk and listened to it whiiirrr as it was whipped into submission (teehee, whipped into submission... sigh). She crafted my scrumptious drink with finess. And she gave me a free pumpkin muffin sample! (They know people just have to buy one after a small taste, you know, and I did buy one.)

After that I tried on some really expensive shoes—just to feel them on my feet and have the privilege of saying I've 'worn' them, haha—and put them back on the shelf, opting instead for discounted dressy heels and a fresh pair of runners. I found the perfect pair of jeans, buy one get one 1/2 off!, so I found them in a different color, too.

The drive home awarded me with spectacular views of the southwestern NY countryside, for miles in some directions. I felt blessed. And the best part was that I got home with time to spare before the kids showed up.

Yes, it was a perfect afternoon. I don't get many of those, but when I do I just want to savor each minute of it before it slips away.

It feels like Fall Today

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 13:03:00 +0000

My hands are so chilled that it's hard to move my fingers on the keyboard.

Fall is nipping at our heels and slowly stealing away (the only two weeks we had of) summer. I'm surprised that I managed a tan this year, considering that I hardly ever try and that this year there was next-to-no summer at all.

The seasons are changing, I can feel it. This morning we are practicing for school tomorrow. I have never figured out why school starts on a Tuesday around here, but oh well. The gas fireplace in the kitchen is running, the crickets and the birds are chirping outside. A layer of fog has just barely burned off and I can see the first leaves dropping already. The house smells of Apple Cinnamon and soon of roasting garlic clusters and maybe some zuchinni bread, too. And I've had such a craving for pumpkin pie this weekend.

Fall is the time to settle into life and cozy up to your loved ones. It is my favorite season of the year, nearly tied with summer but beating it narrowly only for the cozy, snuggled-in factor. It speaks of harvest and rest and enjoyment of the simpler things in life.

I hope that I am always able to enjoy the simplest things in life. Always.

Unspoken

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 03:31:00 +0000

One of the first 'rules' of marriage I ever heard was that you should talk to your spouse about everything. I have not lived up to that rule entirely throughout the last seven years. In fact, I stand certain now that that are times when it must be broken.

You know the adage "Some things are better left unsaid."? There will be those times.

Like the day when she cannot bring herself to cry in front of you, and when she comes out of the bedroom it is obvious she was, and equally so that she does.not want to talk about it (for once, you might say). This is a time when it will remain unspoken.

Then, when the tables are turned and he, for once, breaks down. When he crumbles under the pressures of manhood and realizes that there is just too much pressure for one man, or person. It will be painfully obvious to her what he is going through, but, again, equally so that it need not be discussed.

These are the times that words do no justice. That a gesture, a look, or some space will speak for all that is unsaid. When a hand is pressed into another or a cold beer passed between hands. When a kiss leads to something more, or when one of you decides that right now would be a good time to take the kids for ice cream and a movie, without the other.

When roses are bought "just because". Or encouragement given for a boys' night out.

These are the times when needs are anticipated, acknowledged, and met.

This is what they meant by 'communication'. Being in tuned with one another.

This is also what they call "love".

Comfy in my own Skin

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 15:01:00 +0000

I do NOT have a beach body. And I don't really care anymore. It seems the only time I do have a body resembling anything model-worthy is when I'm busting my butt constantly and cutting out sugar in any form. Not fun, mind you, but my body was gorgeous.

Then, I realized how much I love my body. I realized this a long time ago, actually, but not as deeply as this one true revelation.

A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law took the grandkids (my two, my niece and nephew, and another child who is part of the family in a way) to a local amusement park and water park.

The night before, I could not find my 'cover everything' bathing suit. It is a tankini top with a skirt bottom. It covers everything, but doesn't drag down and flatten the top the way a one-piece does (I really hate that). I cried. Josh looked at me perplexed. I walk around the house with such confidence about my body that it concerned him about how upset I was at this looming exposure.

"You don't understand!" I sobbed and I went to bed upset.

The next day, when it was time to undress an run around the water park, I hesitated. No, I didn't just hesitate, I bordered on freaking out. "But mom," Lauren said to me. "You told me that you don't care what people think of you."

"It's not the people I don't know, it's the people I do." I said. It was, in fact, the opinion of my mother-in-law that I was worried about. But, I don't give her enough credit. She wasn't AT ALL mean or anything. Not only that, but she did make a good point. "You know who they are going to be looking at? Those really tanned gorgeous bodies walking around." She had an excellent point.

People might look at me for a moment but then they'll move on. It's not high school anymore. They aren't going to laugh at me for months (or years) and if they do, I have the option of tuning them out and walking away. I'm no longer forced to walk the same halls with those who taunt me. I'm an adult, and I can leave.

I also learned that family accepts you for who you are, not what you look like, and it feels good to be accepted.

It also feels good to know that my daughter listens to me. She doesn't worry much about how she looks or what others think of her body. She's confident. I wonder where she gets that from...

(I thought I had a picture to share. Well, I do, but I don't know where it's buried in the computer still. Sorry.)

The World Just Got Worse

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 04:00:00 +0000

If you think you've seen it all, if you think things can't get ANY worse than they are now, then you have thought.wrong.

Behold, an invention so unbelievably ridiculous my brain is about to exploid trying to understand it.

The Snuggie... for DOGS!

I thought they had FUR for that sort of thing.

Now, not only can you look like a dumbass, but your dog can too.

I'm sorry.

Boxers or Briefs?

beggarsshotglass@gmail.com (Sue) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 13:00:00 +0000

I'm not much for the dog, so I'm going to hand out some briefs today (er, small updates, if you will).

My life has been extremely busy the past few months. In the recent past, I can only see one day a week where I haven't had to go somewhere, visit somebody, buy something, or look at a house. This, obviously, has left me feeling utterly drained. After a bid on a house was flat out rejected, I told my husband that I was done looking for a house. Hrm, now what did I say to him? "I am —>this.close<— to having a breakdown. I need a rest." It is entirely too much stress for me to handle on top of everything else.

My kids are growing up way too fast. My son? Uses big words that confound me, and he uses them correctly. This talent of his has astounded even my in-laws when he pointed to his finger during a camping trip and said it was numb. My daughter, on the other hand, has gone from little girl to "don't kiss me" and running away when I try to hug her. This can be used to my advantage if she misbehaves, mua ha ha ha haaa, but I do miss the cuddly, shorter-than-mommy punkin she used to be. Part of being a parent is realizing that I'm not raising kids, I'm raising future adults.

(And those future adults rack up quite a bill when it comes time for school shopping for middle school. Ugh.)

I discovered that, while I have a passion for photography and writing, I do not want either of them to be my choice of career. I'm much happier doing those as a hobby and not as 'work'. I might draw up a private post expanding upon this (if I can remember how to access that wordpress blog, that is).

I have always abhorred order in my life, leaving room for the spontaneous joys of being young and carefree, but in the absence of it I have failed. Either I am getting old and set in my ways or I am finally starting to value the benefits of have structure in my life. Either way, I'm kicking myself for not setting guidelines before summer started. Yes, I have enjoyed myself, but my own limits are quite clear now.

Let me say, briefly (of course), that I am disappointed with the direction healthcare is headed. I don't want a complete reformation. I want funding for the programs that already exist, and assistance to people who cannot afford premiums so they can pay them on their own. I do NOT want what the government is peddling to our lawmakers. From what I've read so far, it's nothing I would enjoy living with (whether or not we could really "live" under such a proposal is up for debate). What happened to our right to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?"

I'm out of briefs for today. Time to do some laundry.