Morning Stroll

It's the beginning of day 2 on Maui and I took a short stroll on the beach this morning...I had intended on a fast paced, heart-healthy walk, but when I got down to the sand I slowed down. Perhaps it's something in the air.
Each morning, the locals come out -- some, mostly men, bring long poles and throw their lines into the surf. Then they sit nearby and watch the waves roll in. I haven't seen them catch anything yet -- but I don't really have the attention span. There are the morning surfers and kayakers -- and the morning tourists. Those not-so-easily distracted fitness walkers and those plagued by the time change from the continent -- up before dawn thanks to preprogrammed internal clocks.
Then, there are the seaweed pickers. The locals, who, armed with plastic bags comb through the mounds of seaweed left when the tide goes out for a particular type of seaweed.
So, as I headed out this morning for my morning stroll, I stopped and watched. A small woman with a visor and sandals stooped every few steps and pulled a brownish collection from all the green. I watched her for a few minutes and all I could do was marvel at the way she could spot these little brown plants when all I could see was green.
Another tourist came up and asked her about the seaweed. She explained that you clean it, then par boil it. It's served chopped with sweet onions and tomatoes and a little bit of pepper.
That tourist left and I asked the woman if I could take her picture. She hesitated for a moment -- "Come on?" I said. "You'll never see me again..." She looked up and smiled.
Her name is Lenore. She's originally from the Phillippines but moved here when she got married. She said she has to walk each morning because she's retired now. Sometimes she picks the seaweed for herself, sometimes she gives it away to her friends. Her children are grown and she has grandchildren and great-grandchildren now. Lenore admits that sometimes she'd like to move back to the Phillpines -- a brother and sister are still there. But, later she says there's nothing much to miss as it's almost the same here.
I ask her to teach me to find the seaweed and I stoop to pick up a clump that I'm sure is right. She laughs, "No -- that's not it." This process is repeated for about 5 minutes, when I finally learn to spot the right stuff. "That's it!" she nods. I was ecstatic.

I walk with her for a while -- not sure if she wants company -- not sure if I do -- but watching her eyes scan the clumps of verdant plants for the small brown branches of her salad. She's like an eagle -- scooping up her prey -- prey that is unseen by anyone else.
Lenore explains that you can find this certain seaweed on several beaches, but this one is closest to her home. (I think she said it was called gobo, but by the time I got back to the house, I'd forgotten the word)Each side of the island has different kinds of seaweed. She said tourists come here and learn how to eat the Hawaiian way -- and it makes them feel better. Then they go home and forget about it. The next year, they come back and they remember again.
Finally, I'm able to see it. Once you're eyes are trained to it, it's easy to spot. The branches are longer than the other seaweeds...no feathers, not green... It occurs to me that hunting for this seaweed is a lot like life. Sometimes what you need is not the magic potion purchased from the great wizard selling hope -- it's right in front of you hidden among the mundane.

Eventually I thank my new friend for sharing her day with me and I walk ahead. The beach is an interesting place -- there is the weathliest of visitors -- walking along with their $20 "green" mug filled with expensive coffee and good taste. The grateful retiree who saved and pinched for a lifetime to visit or to stay here each winter. The locals whom I suspect begrudingly share this space with everyone else. Then there are the people I suspect slept here last night -- worldly belongings packed in a 30 gallon black plastic garbage bag and a few essentials tucked into a back pack. This group is also diverse -- a college age kid in a hurry to get somewhere. A 20-something smelling of patchoulli and dreams of living "free". The elderly gentlemen who found a protection collection of palm trees under which to camp and talk.
It's easy to make assumptions about these people as I travel through their world and I wonder what or if they stop to think of me. The housewife on vacation -- stopping to find seaweed or take a picture. The writer who wonders if other people hear the words in their heads like I do -- the person who has a hard time soaking it all in because she want to get back to the computer so badly -- to write and tell the story of her new friend Lenore and her seaweed.
It's easier to walk close to the water -- the sand is more compact. Yes, there is risk of a wave or two -- but again the beach has reminded me of another life lesson. Sometimes it appears to make more sense to stay away from the risks -- to walk away from the water. But maybe it's better to walk closer to the water's edge -- there is risk, yes -- but the rewards are so much greater...
Today I met someone new -- I learned a little about seaweed... and maybe a bit about myself -- all I had to do was walk along the water.

Oops -- I posted this on the wrong blog...

It's day one in Maui -- I'm on the island in the Pacific. Don't get me wrong -- it's a cool thing. I'm on the brink of relaxing. It's all good. My husband and I here for a wedding. His best friend is getting married. They've been close friends since they were 8.
Over the years, their friendship has gone through the normal roller coaster of a life long friendship -- but there was no way he was going to miss this event ... despite the fact it's wedding number three for the groom. Over the years, I've become good friends with the first two wives -- so this feels a little odd. Wife 2 (although they were technically never married) is one of my closest friends. Number 3 seems very nice. She's a tall, thin 30-something -- beautiful brown eyes, perfect teeth -- traffic stopping tits. She's been very welcoming too me -- and to her credit that's got to be hard -- as she knows wives 1 and 2 are my friends -- and close.
I came to the wedding with a bit of dread in my heart -- wondering what the hell I'd do while vacationing with the couple and 30 of their closest friends and relations. There are 5 bridesmaids and their boyfriends/spouses. They're young, tanned and tattooed. They call me sweetie and honey. This makes me a little crazy -- but all my city -friends seem to do this -- so apparently I'm missin' something. One of the bridesmaids apparently has decided I'm quite elderly and feeble. She hugs me around the shoulders and asks if she can bring me anything. When I wouldn't stand up for a drunken toast, she came over and as if I were suffering from an addled mind-- (Why else wouldn't I want to listen to drunk people try to make a toast? "You're my best fuckin' friend, dude." ) -- take my hand and try to walk me to the deck. I actually yelled at her. And you know what she did? She came over and hugged me for a dinner -- a meal which I did not prepare or pay for ... and included a kiss on the cheek. What is with city people? They're always calling me sweetie and kissing me.
I didn't do a damn thing today. It was freakin perfect. I sat on my ass all morning taking in the sunshine and ocean breeze. I finally got hungry and bored enough to go out in search of fish tacos and a quilt store. Found both. Got some yummy tacos and a couple of nice quilt kits and fabric. Plus, I signed up for a Hawaiian appliqué class. Conveniently it's at the same time as the reception and I think I can sneak away for a few minutes and perhaps avoid anymore "sweeties" and "kisses" .
The best part of being here is hanging out with the groom's family. Growing up, Clem became their fourth child. For him, being one of four was a whole lot easier, sometimes, than being one of 10. They are a close-knit and loving bunch - and have always gone out of their way to make me feel welcome.
While the young whipper-snappers and a few old-but-still-like-to partiers are downstairs fielding noise complaints -- the bulk of the family and I are snuggled into the upstairs condo watching Dancing With the Stars.
These are my kind of people -- and my kind of vacation.

Hearing the call

Forgive the cross post -- I'll try not to do this often -- but I have been sick this weekend and don't have enough creative energy to do two posts today....

For the past several months, I've been feeling the urge to write here again. First, I've been struggling with the eating disorder again and secondly, because I continue to hear from people who miss this site -- and could benefit from the shared experience.
I haven't written much of anything for the bulk of 2010. Mostly, I've been distracted with other things. I can always find other things to work on and do.
But it's apparent to me that the more I put aside things that bring me joy, the harder it is to combat the addictions that haunt me.
I know, I know. I've said this before. It takes me a while to catch on -- and I'm easily side tracked. Recently, I've been talking with someone close to me who also has an addiction. He didn't want to go to counseling or rehab or church, so he came to me. Go figure. The situation has forced me to look at myself, my own addictions and what is working for me and what isn't. The process has reminded me that I know more than I think I do. And just when I think I'm failing at everything, I only need to relax long enough to remember what I have all the tools I need.
I thought I'd share the suggestions I'm sharing with my friend in hopes of helping others -- and reminding myself of all the tools in my toolbox.

So for today the assignment is: Give yourself to do something you love today.
Try for an hour, but 15 minutes in the minimum. Maybe it's playing or listening to music. Try reading a book for pleasure. Maybe it's uncovering your sewing machine. Maybe it's taking your camera out for a walk and shooting some photos of the great fall colors. It doesn't matter. Do what brings you joy.

Now here's a danger: If you're like me, you'd like to say... do some scrapbooking but it would take you a day and a half to uncover all the stuff to get the job done. So, divide your time in half. If you're giving yourself an hour, spend no more than 30 minutes finding enough stuff do something simple. The time spent will bless you. Then spend the remainder of your time working on your project. Initially, it will be frustrating -- but if you give yourself a little bit of time each day -- quickly enough you'll be working on your scrapbooks -- or whatever project. If you're like me and it will take more than a few days to uncover the tools for your project -- Spend half your time working on that project -- then work on something else that blesses your soul -- like reading a book or walking or whatever.

To help your progress, find some music that makes you smile Today I'd suggest Bette Midler. This is the best version I could find on You Tube, but I highly recommend finding Bette's version.


Comment below to share how you're blessing your soul with others. Together we can reach our goals.

Toto, we're not in Arizona anymore.

Here's the good news. Unlike Arizona, Wyoming has picnic tables. At least within Yellowstone National Park it does. But our ongoing quest to seek out suitable picnic tables will not be so easily satisfied.
We arrived in Henrys Lake, Idaho late yesterday afternoon. We have rented a 3 bedroom cabin near the state park. It's comfortable and warm and affords us the luxury of spreading out and cooking our own food. While at face value it costs more than a hotel -- we believe we come out ahead.
The last several months have been typically hectic and we're all tired. It's the kind of exhaustion you feel after living on adrenalin for too long. Now the pressure is off and the body goes into a repair mode. This short vacation is what we need to recharge our batteries.
We went to bed early last night and got up late this morning. Just what the doctor ordered. We woke up to a rainy, windy day. We kind of hope the bad weather will keep other tourists at home. This is unlikely, but it can't hurt to hope.
This vacation gives us the chance to visit two more national parks. As you may recall from our Spring Break trip, I'm obsessed with visiting our national parks. Over spring break we hit 4. Today we took in the grand daddy of them all, Yellowstone National Park.
We had hyped the park's wildlife to the kids and within minutes of passing through the gates, the park held up its end of the bargain. A moose, elk, buffalo, a coyote and a brief glimpse of a wolf -- all within the first 10 miles or so of being in the park.
We headed straight for Old Faithful, stopping at some of the geyser areas along the way. Already it's been a great lesson for the kids. Amid the instant gratification and artificial world of video games and television, Mother Nature creates real entertainment. The vivid colors of the bacteria that live in the geyser fields--the anticipation of seeing where the the trail will lead -- real life has the best graphics.
We made it to Old Faithful just in time for a good eruption. The kids were only mildly impressed. It was time for lunch. Past time. Everyone was getting cranky. Surely there would be a picnic table near by.
There might have been.
But picnic tables tend to disappear if our presence. Finally we spotted one in a wooded area. Snow covered and muddy. But a picnic table. We made quick work of sandwiches and chips. Chipmunks waited at our feet for tasty treats. Camp robber birds flew over head.
We packed up and headed out -- only to find just around the next bend...beautiful picnic tables, lakeside... and for only a few brief moments -- sun. Oh Well...
Next on the itinerary: Upper and Lower falls. The kids were fading. It was raining. But we really needed some exercise. The falls are truly breathtaking and worth the walk. Last time we were here, Clem and I hiked to water fall somewhere in this park -- but we had to climb this horrendous stair case. We've been telling the kids about it. They want to make the trip as well. Each time we mention it, we both look at each other with that, "I'm going to regret saying that" wince.
10 years ago, both of us were better shape. Much better shape. Neither of us is confident we can make the climb now. With luck the children will forget we mentioned the staircase....
The way I see it, we must have picked a good cabin. The kids wanted to go back to the cabin. They were even tired of seeing buffalo. All three fell asleep after the last look at the falls. Clem and I drove home listening to the windshield wipers as the kids slept in a pile in the back of the suburban.
Within a few minutes of being home we heard the sound no mother wants to hear; bodies tumbling down the stairs. Apparently, there were trying to play a version of leap frog while coming down the stairs. I'm not sure why that made sense to them. I suspect they won't try that game again.
Tomorrow we'll head for Grand Teton National Park and conclude the day with dinner at a friends cabin.
Sure, it would be nice if there were sunshine. But the sun tends to make us want to go out and do more. We did plenty and the rain makes us want to snuggle into warm blankets. Perhaps, this is what we need.

April Showers bring May clarity

I can't believe it's been more than a month since I posted. Really?! The month of April just zipped by and I've been, as usual, trapped in one project after another.

It's funny how we all find ways to distract ourselves. Some people smoke or drink. Others work out. I know others than shop and still others who text or spending time on the computer. I probably do a little of everything -- eating leads the list. Talk on the phone. Read. We all have some way of trying to numb the pain we are feeling or think we might feel if we acknowledged our feelings.

I have always volunteered. When I was in high school I had extra curricular activities during every lunch hour and every night after school. If I was gone, I didn't have deal with a home life that was disappointing and confusing. It was doing drugs. I was gaining valuable experience, building a resume' -- doing the good work. That trend has continued into my adult life.

There is the very real part of me that truly enjoys community service. I love most aspects of leadership and activism. I have a lot of interests and many talents and I enjoy what I do.

But, if I'm honest with myself, I know I get over involved because I get uncomfortable just being home.

I'm not sure why. I think it's partly guilt. Guilt that I can stay home when so many of friends have to work to support their families. How did I get so lucky? Maybe it's boredom for this ADD-riddled brain of mine -- I have to have a kabillion things going on in my life to keep interested. I'm lonely, sometimes. I have friends, yes. But it's not like I can walk next door and visit them. (Ok, I can. It's about a quarter of a mile away, but she's almost always at work)I don't really fit in around the farm. The other wives work for the dairy. I do not. I'm liberal. They're not. I went to college. They didn't. They're all good people -- people I really enjoy and cherish. But I'm a bit of a fruit loop in the bowl of cheerios around here.

For many years, I used food to distract myself and numb the feelings of guilt, loneliness, boredom and more. I rarely binge anymore and am getting used to recognizing when my body is full or hungry.

It's an odd sensation. I'm often full when there's a lot of food left on my plate. I find my self quite flabbergasted. What the hell are you supposed to do with the extra food? Not everything is suitable for left overs. How do you get this extra food to the starving children in Africa that are supposed to need it? Then I'm always rather stunned that I DON'T know what to do with the food left on my plate. It seems simple enough. You just push the food away. Throw it away. Put it in the scrap bucket. Save it for later. It all seems odd. After all these years of being part of the clean platers club, it's like I've been kicked to the curb.

Today I was able to walk away from a plate. It made me crazy, but I did it. Did a little victory dance, in fact.

Here's the real clincher. My life doesn't suck nearly as bad as I thought it would without my dependence on binge eating. In fact, it's a pretty good life. I have lots of friends, a supportive family, plenty of activities to keep me busy.

While there is certainly a need for better balance in my life, I'm aware, for the first time in a long time, that the journey is the point. I'm always working on bringing things into balance, but perfection isn't necessary. Sometimes, I have it together. Some days, I don't. That's OK.

Part of what makes me who I am is the ability to juggle a lot of projects at once. The trick is understanding when I'm doing a project because I love it, or because I'm trying to hide. Now that I'm listening to my body, I can tell. If I'm getting physically sick at the prospect of a project or task, it's not a task I need to be doing. I can hear my own voice in my head telling me what's good for me and what's not.

Clarity, much to my surprise, is a blessed gift.

Home Sweet Home

As nice as it is to be on vacation, it's oh so nice to be home.

We spent Saturday morning at the National Automobile Museum. I expected a building filled with a bunch of old cars and that I'd be bored.

Nope.

This place was really cool! They covered the history of the automobile and complimented the exhibit with well written displays and an audio tour. I learned a lot and my kids all enjoyed. We took a nap in the afternoon and then had a nice dinner with a good friend.

In real life we should have left early to come home.

Instead, we made the 8 hour drive in one day stopping in Winnemucca for brunch with my niece and her mother -- my favorite ex-in-law. We was nice to see them but it's always to leave Winnemucca.

We had a glorious vacation and are already planning our next adventure to Yellowstone and Mt. Rushmore and every national park in between.

It's fascinating to watch my rural raised farm kids experience city life. They're not used to waiting in long lines. They're very sensitive to noises and smells. They're intrigued by things a lot of people take for granted; public transportation. They love taking buses, trams and buses, but at the same time, they don't really understand why they have to wait in line to do it.

Back at home, we curled into our own beds and I started work on the mountain of laundry we've amassed.

We're all exhausted and feeling entirely spoiled by our great fortune. Last night, my oldest couldn't sleep. She was, in fact, over-tired, but in her mind she was feeling guilt that we were able to take such a long and luxurious trip. Today she suggested we start living more frugally.

No more trips to Costco, she suggested. We should shop from a menu and a list and shop the pantry and the freezers first. We should only go out to dinner for special occasions and rarely.

We should shop locally when possible and go through the house and our rooms and get rid of most of our stuff.

She's right and she's ready to commit to doing the menu planning and organize the lists. I suggested we do it for a limited amount of time -- like 90 days -- and then see what changes we like in our life and what changes we don't.

We're both a little undecided about a garden. Every year I start out with great plans for a garden. I actaully have no skills in this area. I jsut plan a lot of stuff and spend a lot of money in hopes the spirits of gardeners before me with possess my body and soul and somehow force me into being a good garderner. Last year got off to a great start I made it into July before I got overwhelmed. The warmer weather and garden soil is calling to me again, but I hesitate to start again.

My daughter's ideas are great and I'm looking forward to seeing what she puts together and supporting the effort. I'm grateful for our bounty but rather than feeling guilty I'm hoping I can teach her there is a middle ground between abundance and poverty.

Be it the luxury of a vacation, a fully stocked freezer, a life without lines and pollution or the simple abundance of friends and family the greatest gift I can give her, perhaps, is appreciation for all the she has no matter the amount.

Old West is best

We spent the day in Virginia City.

I love this place. We toured an old mine, the museum, the Mark Twain museum ... we wandered about the board walks and marveled at the geological wealth and the incredible and dynamic history here.

I enjoy small towns with great history. I could spend hours and hours going through each store, each museum and go through every headstone in the cemetery. Alas, I was with my husband and children so I just did a few of each.

It's definitely on my list of "come back to soon".

Reno is also a beautiful place. It's sad to see the hotels and casinos dark in this wretched economy, but there seems to be lots to do and the scenery is breathtaking.

It's been a quiet day -- and that's welcomed.

Tomorrow is our last day of vacation and although I had kind of wanted to drive half way home tomorrow, it looks like I'm the only one with that vision so we'll make the 8 -9 hour drive all in one shot. Bleh.

As much as I've enjoyed this trip, it will be so very nice to do laundry and sleep in my own spacious bed. While I generally fight routine -- it's the rebel in me -- I find comfort in the rhythm of our hectic schedule.

The time in the car has given me time to think, plan and re-evaluate a few things. We've had time to talk to the kids without a ton of inference. This vacations are a bit crazy, but our family functions better with them than without.

National Park tour concludes

We spent one more morning in the Grand Canyon.

I'm certainly glad we were there in the "off-season". I wouldn't want to be there in the height of the tourism months. It was entirely too crowded.

One of the things I love about the parks we've visited is the variety of hikes available. The all have "easy, moderate and difficult". We walked along the rim trail at Grand Canyon, which travels, obviously, along the rim.

It's been good for kids to see and hear and occasionally meet people from all parts of the world. There have been few cultures to which they haven't been exposed -- at least a little.

We didn't walk along ... just long enough to find my three favorite vacation hot spots; bathroom, visitor center, book store.

First, I'm officially old enough that, when traveling, my digestive system (to be delicate) doesn't work well--sometimes not at all. While it's a difficult problem, it has the bonus of forcing me to walk a little further in search of a bathroom, so I'm getting more exercise. (which you'd think would help the situation, but it, sadly, does not)

After I've checked out the facilities, I must visit the visitor centers so I can get my nifty "National Parks Passport" stamped with each park's official stamp. Then, I must go to the bookstore to buy the official sticker to attach to my nifty passport. Plus, I buy the official park badge because I have a plan for one of my world famous PROJECTS! A lovely photo memory quilted wall hanging that will, of course, include the official park badge. I will point out that each park offer pre-printed quilt blocks. Those are for sissies!
After wrapping up our Grand Canyon tour, we headed for Las Vegas.

Again, I just want to point out there are simply NO picnic tables in Arizona. We met my older brother in Kingman, Arizona. (He's a geologist and lives there part time in search of minerals and metals and other geology.) He suggested a lovely city park. My assumption: park = picnic tables.

This park did contain a bench. And an old steam engine. A tree.

NOT ONE PICNIC TABLE.

We walked across the street to a diner. The restaurant happened to be on the famous Route 66. One of my many items on my "bucket list" is to travel Route 66 (in a convertible) so I am always looking for opportunities to spend time on this famous byway.

This particular restaurant was not worth the extra effort.

In theory it's only supposed to take about 90 minutes to get from Kingman to Las Vegas. Those calculations came, apparently, before 9 -11. Now it's takes 90 minutes just to get over the Hoover Dam.

Every car must stop and some cars get searched -- I'm assuming you get searched if you look like a terrorist threat, whatever that means. We didn't get searched. I'm guessing the guards don't have kids. Kids trapped in a car for as long as my kids have been in a car this trip would certainly be threat to anyone who knows kids.

There's a really cool new bridge being built and it's almost done. That, rumor has it, will eliminate the need for searching cars before they cross the bridge because then the terrorists will only be able to blow up a bridge, not the dam.

I was a little nervous about taking the kids the Las Vegas. It's complicated and busy. As much as I knew they'd like the lights and the attractions, I've never felt it's a great place for a family vacation.

As expected, the kids loved the circus-like atmosphere, but the problem with Las Vegas is that it takes you so long to get from one place to the next everyone, especially children are exhausted by the time you get there.

They loved the downtown light show, though they were exhausted. The next day, we tried to show them the sites, but the miles it takes to walk from one attraction to the next made us all tired and cranky.

We finally took them to the indoor amusement park at the Circus Circus and let them ride the roller coasters etc. The loved it! We also took in the Tournament of Kings. The food was wretched, but the show entertaining.

We had planned on riding the roller coaster at the Sahara this morning, but it didn't open until noon. Not wanting to wait, we headed for Reno.

Don't get me wrong. Nevada is a beautiful state. The state planners, however, put the highways through the ugliest parts of it. Further, taking a clue from their Arizona neighbors they didn't put in a rest stop or picnic table. After 3 hours of driving we frantically pulled into a town called Goldfield. It look inhabited. Mostly by miners, but inhabited nonetheless. Saw a sign for a city park, so once again, we figured there was a good chance there would a bathroom or a picnic table.
No bathrooms. No picnic tables. Miners, it seems, don't need to go to the bathroom.

Katy and I crossed our legs and Clem drove 90 miles an hour toward Tonapah. This town must have been really cool in it's hey day, but those days are long gone. They do, however, have a gas station with a bathroom. It was too cold for a picnic, so we found a Mexican restaurant recommended by the gas station restaurant.

We also drove through the US Army's storage depot. Holy cow! Imagine miles and miles of bunker looking buildings storing who knows what for the US Army. Throughout the desert there are thousands of mounds of dirt with a concrete door. Then miles and miles of metal buildings.

OOOH! I forgot to mention that just outside of Las Vegas we drove through an Air Force base and we got to watch one of those little drone planes they fly remotely to spy on people and things.

It was pretty cool.

We also passed a couple of naval bases and a sign that said there was a Coast Guard base nearby -- which I can't really understand -- but I can see why the government puts military bases in Nevada. Even the most vicious of terrorists wouldn't want to drive out here to what literally is the middle of freakin' nowhere.

There are no rest stops or picnic tables.

So far, I REALLY like Reno. It's got the cool stuff that Vegas has, but not the smell and it's really easy to walk around town.

We tried taking the children out to a nice restaurant. Clem had his heart set on this place, but taking three children who have been stuck in a car for eight hours to anyplace but McDonalds is really just, well, stupid.

I'm sure we were quite entertaining the the lovely and refined couple next to us. There was minor barfing, butter pat artwork, slurping, talk of farting -- make that Loud talk of farting.

I had two mojitos and it didn't even start to help my headache.

I want you to know that when I write these updates in my head as we're driving down the freeway, they sound so much better. Witty even.

Alas, those moments are gone.

Some vacay pics!

The kids get their first look at Grand Canyon
Where we spent Saturday afternoon....
Katy overlooking the Grand Canyon
The kids at a petroglyph site in St. George
SUN!!! Zion National Park

From snow to sun!

Remember when the Brady family went to the Grand Canyon?
They failed to illustrated the 300 miles of vast nothingness that one has to drive through to get there.
We left from St. George, Utah. From St. George there are two routes to the south side of the Grand Canyon. Long and Longer. We started with long.
Throughout this vacation we've been staying in hotels with free breakfast and then picnicking through lunch. That way we're only eating out officially once a day. It's cheaper and theoretically better for the family.
We left later than we'd planned today, but headed out thinking we could have lunch on the Colorado River near the Navajo Bridge.
Guess what?
There is not a picnic table anywhere along that 300 mile stretch.
Not one.
Not even a good place to pull off the road and have a nice picnic.
Apparently picnicking is something the Navajos are not big fans of. I found one city park. It was a large square of red dirt in the desert.
So we finally pulled into a convenience store parking lot and grabbed a cheese stick and an apple out of the cooler.
I always pictured the grand canyon as being surrounded by desert.
It's actually pretty wooded. Throughout the parts of the park we've been in so far, you can't really see the rim through the trees.
I have to admit to being a bit skeptical. I drive over the Snake River Canyon on a regular basis. How much different could the Grand Canyon be, really?
Well, by golly, there is a reason they call it "grand".
It really defines the word awesome.
It's stunning.
I will also point out that it's crowded. And this is the slow season.
But like most native Idahoans, I'm offended when other people have the audacity to show up in nature at the same time as me. I really prefer to enjoy nature without anyone else around. I don't think that's too much to ask really.
I don't think we'll spend a ton of time her in the morning. We'll check out a few more sites and then head for Vegas.
So far my favorite park has been Zion, which we hit yesterday morning. It's truly spectacular and after waking up yesterday morning with 6 inches of snow on the car it was really wonderful to feel the sun on my face. We hiked to several sites. (Our family policy is no more than 3 miles per hike) On one hike, I ran into some people wearing UI Vandal gear. Turns out we were sharing the trail with Vandal Defensive line coach Eti Ena. It was my brush with greatness for the day.
We spent some time with my aunt and uncle in St. George. I hadn't seen them since my wedding, so it was nice to get caught up and St. George was a pretty and friendly city, which we plan to visit again soon.
It's been such a lovely trip so far and great joy to watch my kids discover some of the countries greatest treasures.
The DVDs, Ipods, DS, and other distractions we packed for the journey aren't very attractive onces we've passed through each park's gates. They'd discovered the art of echoes. The only electric gadget they carry consistently is their camera. (And sometimes their phones, to take pictures and send them instantly to aunties waiting for updates at home)
I wish I could give every child an opportunity to visit a National Park -- or a state park or other natural -- and national treasure --.
I'm so lucky I can share this with my children. I hope they too, understand, what a gift this trip has been.

What was that about making plans??

We are in Beaver, Utah.
This is not where we're supposed to be.
We spent a glorious morning hiking through Arches National Park.
More on that later.
About 1 p.m. we headed due west across the state so we could get to St. George Utah, which is at the southwestern corner of the state. We, however, hit a spring storm.
Not like a little weather pattern that dumps a skiff of snow and moves on.
A giant blizzard.
The kind that closes freeways and causes jack-knifed trucks etc.
We made it through several mountain passes on I-70, but as soon as we got onto I-15, the snow started coming down at a slant.
A few miles in traffic came to a complete stop. We sat on the freeway for 90 minutes. We finally got going, but not for long.
It was white knuckle driving.
I'm pretty good in theses situations -- but dang.
We finally got to Beaver and I needed to pee and get a break.
We opted for staying put.
Good thing we did, as the road ahead to the south was closed -- oh so we hear.
We we grabbed a late dinner at a cafe' which, did not serve beer, I might add and that really irritated me.
But we got one of the last hotel rooms in the place and got in a nice swim in the luke warm pool.
My cameras in the car, so will post photo and more information about Arches tomorrow.
We think we'll be able to get to St. George in the morning before the next storm hits.
We're thankful we have a comfortable hotel room and the safety of staying together.
It's so bad out there that churches and homeowners in the area of opening their doors to strangers to get off the freeway.
Stay tuned for more...tomorrow

The National Park quest continues

I now own a National Park passport.
Yep, I'm that cool.
It was a nearly perfect day and I'm exhausted.
We started out early traveling from Salt Lake City's Midvale area to Price, Utah. It was a beautiful drive. Utah's mountains are close. They're not some beautiful peak in the distance, they're so close it feels like you can reach out and touch them. The further we traveled south and east away from SLC, the red rocks of the southwest become more and more prevalent. Breathtaking canyons lined with juniper made it hard to concentrate on driving. There are still pockets of snow, so all of the colors made for an incredible pallet of color.
At Price we stopped at the Eastern Utah University dinosaur museum. It was quick and easy and very informative. The kids had a great time. This state has a remarkable history.
We stopped for picnic lunch in the tiny, desolate town of Green River. The main drag is lined with out-of-business motels which were probably locally owned. The outer edge of this town is lined with chain hotels. Currently in business. There's a surprise. We have yet to figure why anyone wants to stay in Green River. It was actually kind of a creepy place.
We continued east toward Moab and the scenery became more and more spectacular. There's no real way to describe it -- we've all seen this area in the movies. Thelma and Louise went off the cliff just outside of Moab. Against a Crooked Sky, Mission Impossible II... There are countless pictures of the area on everything from postcard to Utah license plates. We had originally planned on getting settled in our hotel and then heading out to one of the national parks.
But when we came across the sign that said "Canyonlands National Park next right" -- how could we simply drive by? So we coined a new term. Remember we have the voice of Homer Simpson on our GPS navigator? Well, when we go against Homer's instructions, go renegade you might say, we call that "Going Bart". We turned Homer off. Again, there is just no easy way to describe the vistas in this park. We had a blast.
We took short hikes at several of the popular sites. The air was crisp and clean. And as the sun set, we kept thanking our lucky stars we were able to make such a journey. How lucky are we?
We also met Adventure Man, my son's alter ego.
"Sometimes, I'm just an ordinary 7-year-old boy, but when I'm on the trail, I'm Adventure Man."
Adventure Man guided me through the trail making sure I got back to the car.
"Watch out for that cactus."
"The snow makes it slippery here, step over there."
"You know, the older you get the less attention span you have."
"Really," I said.
"Yep, the older you get, you just don't pay enough attention."
"The younger you are, the more agility you have."
With Adventure Man's help, we made it into Moab and had a great dinner at a place with fire grilled pizza and a nice salad bar. It was some of the best pizza I've ever had. We got back to the hotel and swam a couple of laps in the chilly pool.
A hot shower and I'm ready for sleep.
Tomorrow we will take on Arches National Park and make our way toward St. George. There are a number of parks and monuments along the way and two big parks to cover while there.
I hesitate to say it in fear I'll jinx our luck, but if the rest of the vacation goes this well, it will be an amazing vacation.

Fitzgerald Family Adventures Day One

We left early.
We NEVER leave early.
I kept thinking, something's gotta be wrong. We NEVER leave early.
We headed into the grade school to pick up the two youngest. When they hopped into the back I noticed the wireless headphones for the DVD were missing.
The option at this point is backtrack--something my husband despises regardless of the fact that at that point, we were only 10 minutes from home--or face 2300 miles listening to anything the kids were listening to. There was no way option two was going to work.
So we went back.
So much for leaving early.
We grabbed the kids and headed south.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and relatively warm. Headed east on I - 84 we traveled through the western edge of Idaho's famed potatoes fields. It's a bit too early for much farming. There were a few tractors out, but they were not moving. The ground is too wet. Idaho spring is nearly torture for a farmer. It gets just warm enough to make you think you can get outside and then just as you get everything ready to go -- bam! winter is back and you have a foot of snow on top of the tractor.
As we aim for Salt Lake, my husband starts telling "landmark" stories: tales of where he did what along this route.
"We bought a Case 930 tractor there. My dad was still alive."
He's only 52, but he tells stories like a man 20 - 30 years older. He's apparently always been like this. His dad called him "Walter Winchell" because like the famed commentator, he "always has the story".
Within an hour we start the argument that will follow the entire journey. He likes to travel in the relative comfort of a refrigerator. I prefer not to see my breath while driving.
I spent $12.95 and downloaded the Homer Simpson voice for the navigator. The investment paid off with great laughter from Clem and the kids. When you get on the freeway Homer laughs and says "Woo Hoo". I figure it couldn't get much better and then when we pulled into our first stop, Home said. "You can celebrate because you're a genius." I love it!!
We ate dinner in Sandy, Utah at the Mayan. It's a Mexican-like cuisine -- and truly, the food was just OK. The best part of this establishment is the entertainment. "Cliff divers" appear twice an hour and jump off the synthetic cliffs into a pool of water. It's entirely cool! My children loved it! My son, following the second show, let out a good ol' fashioned southern Idaho, "Yee Haw" -- this is his highest compliment.
We've decided to stay in Best Westerns along the way until we get to Vegas. Best Westerns have free breakfasts and tend to have pools. Very kid friendly. The pool isn't open here -- but we've shoved a roll-away into a tiny two queen room and we're watching The Marriage Ref, our new favorite show.
Off to Moab tomorrow!

Southern bound

Here's the deal.
I bought a National Park pass. It's ridiculously expensive to get into our National Parks. This is rather irritating as I could swear I already pay taxes for our National Parks..but that is a soap box best saved for another day.
Soooo, as God as my witness, we will get our money's worth from that park pass.
I will be posting updates from our adventures on the road in the Catholic Assault Vehicle. We like to say the CAValry is comin'.
First stop, we're headed to Sandy, Utah tonight for dinner in the famous Mayan restaurant. We are leaving, if all goes well, after school tonight to start the first leg of the whirlwind tour of the southwest and the National Parks therein.
In the meantime, I'm frantically packing ... and seem to be running terribly behind.
I'll check in later tonight.
National Lampoon's got nothin' on the Fitzgeralds.

Springtime in Idaho

You know it's spring in Idaho when you have one child on the ski hill and another on the golf course.
It was a fabulous spring day. Busy for me, but in a pleasant way. I got up early and put my 9-year-old on the ski bus with a friend. Then, after a quick nap I took my 11-year old and 7-year-old to Twin Falls. I dropped my son off to meet my sister at the fabric store where they picked out fabric for his First Communion outfit. To give you some example of his personality. He chose a bright green silk for the lining and a sparkling silver for the front of the vest. This is not a traditional 1st Communion outfit. I've decided I don't care. He should feel comfortable and express himself the way God made him. Last year, my middle child wore pants. Another break with tradition. They were darling white satin capris. So once again, we'll send up a stir with in St. Peter's parish.
Then, my oldest needed dropped at the golf course, where she played 9-holes with one of the state champion golfers -- a senior with whom she attends school. This young woman has become an amazing role model for my young daughter. She's a good student, a good and kind person, an athlete and generous with her time. Today she played golf with my sixth grade daughter. She's a senior with lots of friends and plenty to do, but she took time out of her weekend to play a few holes of golf with my daughter -- who, by the way, had never played golf with anyone but her dad.
Middle child is hooked on skiing. This is an odd thing as she is the one who hates being cold the most. She loves it -- but no one else in the house skies, so she's kind of on her own. Each weekend for the last month or more, I've found someone to take her skiing or I've taken her on my own. Today I paid the pass fees for a neighbor girl/babysitter. I put them on the ski bus to the mountain. They skied from open to close and came off the ski bus tired and sun burned.
My babies are growing so quickly. Each of them are in the process of losing their "baby" and turning into a young man and young women. My oldest, at 11 is rapidly -- as in with lightning speed becoming this ...this... woman.
She has porcelain skin and fuchsia lips and the most amazing eyes... and I keep staring at her...and her sister... in hopes if I stare at them long enough I'll never forget how they look at this moment. I'm trying, albeit a futile effort, to memorize each freckle as they look at this moment. The curve of their smiles... the glint of wonder in their eyes.
My son still has his baby face..although that, I sadly know, will start to change over the summer. With him, I want to pack around a tape recorder so I will know each amazing phrase the young man utters. He has a command of the English language I can't even begin to fathom. He, like his sisters, is an old soul with an understanding of the world most adults will never understand.
Yesterday, after a series of frustrating losses on the wrestling mat, my tiny little man looked at me and said, "I know I didn't do as well as I did last year, Mom. But I'm still really proud of myself."
Why can't I have such confidence?
It's a joy to watch them grow, truly. I look forward to seeing what they do and who they become. But it's days like these that I wish I could freeze time and hold their tiny hands in mine forever and ever and ever... I hope the freckles never change.

Sunday, sunday...sunday...

I sat down to write more today.
My toes are cold.
This, in fact, makes it difficult to be witty and creative.
I realize other people might, oh, I don't know-- put slippers on or socks...
I'm sitting here in shorts and a tank top because I planned on a nice workout on the Wii, but my son took over and kept beating me -- not much of a work out but I'm too lazy to get up on put on clothes... or slippers.
Now, I can't remember what I was going to eat.
Hahahahaha
I just wrote eat ... I meant to write "write".
Yep -- I'm tired... and as I mentioned cold.
It's supposed to warm tomorrow.
Maybe I'll write more then.

Winds a blowin'

Holy cow it's cold out there.
It's a typical Southern Idaho late winter day. The wind is howling. It's cold. There's not enough snow left to be pretty, which in my mind makes the cold easier to deal with.
I had planned on cleaning the garage today. But that just sounds painfully chilly.
It's Friday, my favorite day of the week. I don't think I should have to do anything that makes me cold today. Unless it's fun -- like drinkin' beer or eating ice cream.
My oldest daughter is going to a school dance today. Not at her current school, at her old one. Some friends invited her. I'm so thankful. But my stomach hurts.
School dances, particularly the middle school variety can be so very odd and upsetting. I'm assuming she'll have a great time as she has good friends there. But I worry so much about the mean kids that might break her heart.
I keep trying to remind myself that just because I had some bad experiences in my growing up years, she may not have the same heartbreak. Even if she does, it is a normal part of growing up. She'll be fine. I can't believe my little girl is old enough to go to a middle school dance.
At her current school though I have an issue with the Bible teacher and I'm not sure how to handle it. My instinct is to go all "Karmanator" on him. I've been trying so hard to be a grown up and be all rational and stuff, but man this guy makes my head spin around.
This incident didn't happen in my daughter's class, so I've been trying to let it go.
I got an e-mail from the teacher on Wednesday -- one he sent to all the parents about the book The Shack.
"In Bible classes today we discussed the book "The Shack" and I told the students that I have a problem with the book because of some of the underlying concepts presented. However, some of the students indicated to me that people they know have read the book and said it was great. Let me say that there was a time when I couldn't wait to read The Shack, until I found out some of the concerns I am now sharing with all of you. If you have read The Shack or plan to, I would encourage you to check out one or both of the following links. The first is a review of the book from a guy who knows the author. The review discusses some of the problems with the book. The second link is an interview with the author in which some very concerning statements are made.

http://www.wretchedradio.com/pdf/review_shack.pdf

http://www.archive.org/download/carmmedia/shack.mp"

Now, let me get this straight. Some how this "teacher" saw fit to have a discussion about a book he has not read.
Furthermore, the book is fictional. It says right on it. "Fiction". Fiction, means it's not true. It's not meant to be true...or factual... it's meant to be make believe.
The reviews the teacher posted are of interest. One is a point by point critique of the book by someone who claims to be friends with the author. Indeed there are some theological issues in the book that the average theologian might have reason to question except that that book is FICTION. It's all made up.
The whole point of fiction is to tell a story. It's not a true story because again, it's FICTION. So I fail to understand why it warrants an academic review because it's FICTION. If you don't agree with the theology, then you have the ability to not read it again.
The other alleged interview with the author is clearly edited and manipulated. Credible? I doubt it.
So this "teacher" is claiming the book and it's author are dangerous. He's never read the book, but because of these reviews he doesn't want to read the book, yet it makes perfect sense to discuss it in a BIBLE class.
It does not make sense to me. First, I think teachers should actually read the book they're discussing in class. Second, I think the book should actually be relevant to what they're discussing in class. Color me unreasonable.
If the kids are having an intellectual discussion about the theology of a work of fiction it seems to me that everybody should have read the book in particular the teacher.
Further, the apparently main problem with the book is that universalist approach -- as in there is more than one way to God. God, in the book, is initially presented as a woman. (Curses!) The author does so with intention and explains his reasoning when the book concludes. The main character in the book has turned away from God and is in fact angry with God. By the end of the book he's resting in the unconditional love and joy God can bring. Now tell me, isn't that the point of the entire BIBLE??? Isn't the Bible all about God's unconditional love? If the main character comes to know God in the end, why is it a bad thing??? Because he came to God in an usual way rather than oh I don't know -- being the victim of some evangelistic ambush in the local mall?
Further, the book has caused millions of people to look at their own spiritual life and ask more questions about their own faith. In many cases, this work of fiction has brought them closer to God in a very real way. This is apparently a bad thing?
Back on the academic side, the reviewer the Bible teacher link to keeps referring to the author as Paul. Yet, on the authors own web - site he refers to himself as Willie. Makes ya wonder who is really the author's friend.
I don't think it's too much to ask of a teacher to a)read the book he's discussing in class -- and b) make sure the sources he quotes are legitimate.
Perhaps I'm wrong.
I'm trying to figure out the grown up thing to do here. I really want to go into this man's class room and through a hissy fit, but I'm guessing it won't go anywhere with this guy. I'm thinking I'll write a nice calm letter to the principal and the teacher and thoughtfully explain my concerns.
As a writer, it makes my heart hurt when people don't read a book because they think it's filled with something it's not. It's labeled as a work of fiction -- as such can be used as a discussion starter, but not as a matter or record of fact. To confuse the two does a disservice to writers -- and most importantly the readers who won't take the time to open a work of art.
Well, that's enough of my soap box for the day.

Burdens lifted and getting in the groove

I am getting used to this lack of Facebook, but I don't like it. I really miss my friends. I really miss having easy access to so many of them to ask questions or chat or whatever.
Today has been a pretty productive day and, in general, a good weekend. Yesterday, I got the sewing room cleaned out so I just have to deep clean there. It's the one room I manage to get cleaned most consistently. I have a huge quilt to get done in time for a May graduation, plus I need to build some cushions for a camper... (that's a long story. I'll save it for later) So, I needed this room cleaned up. Plus my niece came over to work on a sewing project with my sister. And, my sister loaned me a serger so I could make some pot holders for the school kitchen and practice with the serger. Pretty cool.
So today I got the living room cleaned up -- not a small task, since we had dumped a bunch of unmatched socks in the middle of the living room. To give you some example of what a mess this was, let me point out we found 78 pairs of socks. I dumped half a garbage can full of unmatched socks. I hate throwing out the socks, but there is obviously no reason to keep them, they're just taking up space.
I finished paying bills. And actually remember to put a few things in the mail. I'm notorious for writing out checks or filling out forms and sticking them in my purse without actually mailing them.
I worked out a little bit. I opened the Jillian Michaels game for the Wii. I bought several months ago on a clearance sale. I'm not sure why. I don't actually even like Jillian Michaels. It sucked. I'm getting rid of it. I played with Wii Fit for a while and now hurt... a lot.
Then, a friend who had moved away last year stopped in for a visit. That involved visiting while I drove down to Jerome to quickly inventory some groceries in the school lunchroom, pick up katy and come home.
I fixed a quick dinner and then we had to dash off for a wrestling practice. Cj got kicked in the teeth -- an accident. Dropped the car pool kids off.
Now I'm home.
I can honestly say I wouldn't have gotten that much done if I had gotten lost on Facebook.
In other excellent news, there was only one person I've ever unfriended on Facebook. Just over a year ago, she accused me of something. I said stupid stuff and the friendship ended. This was difficult as we have lots of mutual friends and our kids are friends.
But we're both pretty stubborn...
I saw her at a school function last week and she didn't frown at me or anything. It seemed nicer than it had been. I wanted to talk to her, but I figured she wouldn't talk to me.
Then, Saturday, I got a text from her asking for forgiveness.
Wow.
I had missed our friendship, but she had hurt me a lot -- and I suppose I hurt her too.
I felt like a huge rock had been lifted off my heart.
And I felt really lucky that she valued my friendship enough to try to make things better.
In the same way it felt good to get a room clean up and and remove the clutter, it felt good to have this personal clutter removed from my heart. I had to apologize for my stupid mouth and own up to what had happened in our friendship.
A nice way to celebrate Lent, I think.
And when I'm back on Facebook... I'll "friend her again".

Day three

It's a good thing I've been busy.
It makes life without Facebook a lot easier.
The worst times are when I'm waiting or don't have something that needs to be done. It's a great waste of time, Facebook. but on the other hand I really miss my friends. I don't live in a suburban neighborhood. sometimes it feels very isolated. Plus, right now I'm driving a lot, so I'm in the car several hours a day sometimes. The connection to others that my Facebook account provides is really important.
It's starting to feel a little bit like spring. More birds are singing in the morning. Sometimes the sun coming through the window gets uncomfortably warm. And, even more than before, I'm feeling like it's time for new beginnings. It's time to rekindle my housecleaning/clutter removal plans. It's just time for me.
I went shopping today. Not something I do very often. (Facebook, I'll point out is much cheaper) I just picked up a few things -- mostly groceries--but I wasn't in a hurry today, so it was nice.
More importantly, I ignored my long "to do" list and opted for spending time with one of my sisters. While we talk often, I rarely have time alone with just her. We didn't do anything earth shattering. She helped me shop for grocery items for my daughter's school (I'm working on the new hot lunch program) we had a sushi for lunch.
It was face to face contact. Warm. Intimate. Long over due.
I can go all day, sometimes, enjoying great digital conversations, but never really talking to anybody outside my home in person.
Sometimes, it's lonely. At other times, I'll admit, it's a welcome peace.
But the time I can spend with family and friends and not only converse, but exchange glances and observe body language, is valuable time that cannot be replaced.
I had a lovely day. It was relaxing and comfortable.
Sure, my to do list is stretching out by the moment -- but it will be there tomorrow.
Sharing sushi with my sister -- that's a moment I can't replace!

for the record

Damn! It's nearly midnight and I've managed to get about 30 minutes sleep and now I, for no apparent reason am WIDE AWAKE.
For the record, I can totally live without Mariah Carey. She scares me.
So watching tv in hopes it will lull me to sleep is not, in fact, working,because NBC apparently has contracted with Mariah to sing some dumb ass song for the Olympics.
Really?
Makes me sick to my stomach.
Elvis Costello seems to be on Sundance.
NBC apparently didn't have his number. If they did, clearly, there would intelligent music available during my Olympic coverage.
People who luge are a little crazy. Elvis Costello could write a bitchin' song for them.
I'm just sayin'.

Conclusion, Day One

I'm soooo tired.
This fasting without Facebook thing 'aint for sissys... I'll tell ya what!
I'm allowed one full meal for the day. I finally ate at 7. Now I'm way too full -- as usual I took it one step too far. However, the day has been a good one, although busy.
My oldest daughter's school -- a private, Christian school about 30 minutes south of here -- has not had a hot lunch program.
About two weeks I accepted the challenge of trying to get a lunch program started. It now appears we'll be able to offer a hot lunch as of March 1. But it's been a lot of work and research, well worth my time, mind you, but it's a lot of work.
My husband left for vacation so there were the last minute preparations for the take off.
I also took six kids to Ash Wednesday mass and out to lunch this afternoon. So I was on the road a lot.
About 2 p.m. I had a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I looked down at my hands and saw my hands shaking unusually bad so felt it was best to eat a little something. Then I cam home and the kids had made cupcakes.. red velvet...one of my favorites... so the fasting quickly went out the window.
I really miss Facebook. I have questions for friends on facebook and will now have break down and actually call them on the phone or actually, get this, talk to them in person.
The convenience of taking care of something at the moment I think about it is something I've apparently been taking for granted.
I'm truly hooked on the show Faces of America, the latest PBS series. I'm off now to watch it and catch up on some rest. I'll check in tomorrow.

The 10 a.m. Ash Wednesday update

Clearly, this is going to be harder than I thought.
It's 10 a.m.
My mind keeps returning to my beloved Facebook. I've thought of at least 10 witty posts.
Five questions to ask Facebook friends.
You know it's an issue when you're frustrated you can't e-mail the manager of the local Subway chain to request a lunch order.
The answer is remarkable simple. You call the store and place the order over the phone.
Who knew?
As for the fasting. On days that are not Ash Wednesday I can make it 'till 11 or noon with little to nothing in my stomach.
I'm sure at 10 a.m. I will never make to 10:05 without giving in and raiding the fridge.
The other things I've noticed is that e-mail is suddenly far more interesting.
Usually, in my Facebook life, I quickly read over e-mail and rarely read jokes or "forwards". Not today.
I've read two rather fun, but long forwards.
I've analyzed each e-mail careful not to miss a thing.
Web sites I never had time to peruse before are magically very interesting. I caught myself surfing Hulu.com today. I've always wanted to check it out, but never taken the time.
This morning, it was ok.
This addiction is ridiculous.
More later....

And so, it begins

It's "Fat Tuesday". I've indulged in lots of red meat today and a handful of chocolate chip cookies. I feel good.
Tomorrow is a fasting day, so I'll only get one full meal.
I used to dread fasting days and rarely did them. When you're obsessed with food a day of fasting is torture. Since I conquered that battle, a day of fasting isn't a big deal. In fact it's pretty cleansing.
I'm determined to "do" Lent this year. Again, I rarely practice this aspect of my Catholicism. Typically, I have great intentions, but by 10 a.m. the morning of Ash Wednesday, I have forgotten. Certainly by the first Friday of Lent I've ordered a juicy hamburger -- totally spacing an obligation to abstain.
The other tenant of the Lenten season is to "give something up" or "do something extra".
I've opted to give up Facebook. For those of you who know me well, you understand this is no small sacrifice. I love Facebook. It has allowed me to reconnect with old friends. Those friends provide me an electronic support system and safety barrier.
The problem is I get lost in Facebook. I spend hours chatting with friends, playing games, reading others updates. That is time I don't spend doing things like paying bills, managing our household spending time in real life with friends and family.
It's gotten to the point that my children say things like, "You're on Facebook again?!"
It comes to my phone. I check several times an hour for posts and messages.
The other day my 82-year-old father pointed out I hadn't spoken to him in a month. This is a huge problem. I had taken for granted that he and other members of my family already know what's going on in my life because I post so much on Facebook. My father does not check Facebook. He doesn't own a computer. The hours I spend on Facebook could very easily be spent with him and other people in my family and life who deserve face - to - face contact.
It also occurred to me I never write cards and letters anymore, short of the occasional thank you note. I cherish my letters and cards from my family and friends in the days before electronic communication. Will my children cherish my emails or Facebook posts? I doubt it.
So while I am not on Facebook I plan on writing a minimum of one letter or card per week and put an actual stamp on it and actually put it in the mail.
I'm going to chronicle the Facebook-less life here.
I expect to have more time to post.
I will, however, point out that I turned off my e-mail notifications from Facebook about 2-hours ago.
It's making me crazy....

Quiet morning

I'm sitting here in the quiet of the morning. Clem is fixing coffee in the kitchen, but it's still dark outside. All kids are tucked away.
I think this has been one of the nicest weeks I can remember in recent history. Not the weather -- just life.
I'm allowing myself to be happy. To count my blessings instead of my frustrations.
The kids are healthy. I am healthy for the most part. We are entirely comfortable and gifted by love and support from family and friends.
But in my usual busy schedule I hadn't really noticed. I am perpetually distracted. "Where are the kids?" "Who has dance or wrestling or practice or piano?" "What's for dinner?" "Is the laundry done?"
But I was sitting in the pick up earlier this week and it hit me. I'm happy.
Not angry, depressed or frustrated. I'm happy.
I'm not worrying about all the things I do wrong and all the things I should be doing. I'm just enjoying what we have and more importantly, who I am with.
Last August, I was planning for a divorce. In fact for the last 3.5 years... maybe the last 5... I have been planning a divorce.
I'm aware I may re-enter that world of worry. But it doesn't feel like it's hanging over my head.This is a huge change and a giant burden lifted.
I had kept it together this long to protect my children. As I write, it seems contrary to common sense. We were in a verbally abusive situation -- it would have made more sense to leave a long time ago. There have been times over the years when I, in fact, should have left. I didn't. It always seemed like pulling them out and away from everything they knew and loved would traumatize them more. In my head, I knew that leaving their dad would be a temporary fix. They'd have to spend time with him unsupervised -- and if he had an episode of verbal bashing -- there would be no one there to speak out against it.
So I never left. I talked about it. I planned it. I cried. I threatened. I retreated. I withdrew. I buried myself in an eating disorder. I clawed my way out of it.
In a series of events -- which oddly enough -- seem to always happen to in October I finally put a stop to what was happening.
A year ago last October, after being screamed at for years and for everything, I finally said, "Get help". I spent one night away from home and two months sleeping in another room. He went to counseling and to the doctor.
Turns out he had 3 metabolic issues working against him -- all of which individually are known to cause mood swings. He had all three causing him to be a screaming tyrant.
He got help. I never would have guessed he'd do that.
For the last year, I've been sort of stumbling through our lives. Stunned he was, after more than a decade, doing and trying all the things I'd been asking for... and it wasn't simply him...it was medical. I had no idea. I had thought he was having diabetic rages. When he finally got the diagnosis the situation didn't get better as I had hoped. It got worse. Diabetes was only one of the three. He had a hormone imbalance I wouldn't have even thought to check, but his doctor caught.. god bless that woman. He has too much iron in his system. The three issues worked together to cause him to be a raging monster in one moment and a gentle giant in the next.
After a year of spending countless hours in medical offices, research and worry, it seems the changes in him are permanent.
I don't have to walk on egg shells. He has moments of anger ... but don't we all?
So a year ago I told him to get help. This last October, I had to look myself in the mirror and decide what I really wanted.
I did that. I had to admit that the anger I was packing around was making me sick, driving my children crazy and hurting my husband's efforts to heal.
I had to let go. I had to stop holding all that anger in and and tell him how I feel. I had to appreciate what I have and stand up for what needed changed.
However, I also met with a divorce attorney. We went over my risks and potential outcomes. Then, I put divorce away. I knew I wouldn't want to make any major decision until after the holiday season. If was going to make any major changes in my life it wouldn't happen until after Feb. 1.
It's after Feb. 1 and I'm sitting in my lovely living room and thinking about how lucky I am to live where I live and enjoy the life we live with someone who cared enough about me to truly change his life.
Our relationship is not perfect, but I don't think it was designed to be. I may be filing for divorce again by August. For now, though, I'm going to enjoy the peace that is currently surrounding my life.
It's long overdue...

Cooking comfort

This is a post I actually wrote several weeks ago -- but was having Internet problems -- and never posted it. I kinda like it though -- so figured I'd post it now...


Tuesday: What I did for myself today.
I LOVE cookbooks. I crave cookbooks. I probably read just as many cookbooks as I do novels. I have a good sized bookshelf in my kitchen stuffed to overflowing with cookbooks…and I have more in storage.
It had gotten to the point that I couldn’t fit anymore cookbooks in, nor could I find what was there. It was making me crazy. One Tuesday morning a couple of weeks ago, I cleaned out the bookshelf. I gave away a large -- ok, huge—box of books. I got rid of the ones I hadn’t used in a while. Rid of the ones I liked, but didn’t LOVE. I got rid of duplications. As I’ve been going through all this extra stuff I’ve used this question as a guide: “Will it bless someone else’s life more than mine?”
I used it when I cleaned out my closet, resulting in 3, 30-gallon trash bags full of clothes and shoes. I gave it to a dear friend who does a tremendous amount of work for the community – but does little for herself. I suspected she might keep some of the clothes, but wondered if she might give the clothes away to a family in need – possibly a new collection of immigrants. To my delight she kept the clothes herself. Each day, she has worn a brand new outfit and has had a great grin upon her face. Her smile tells me the clothes bless her far more than they blessed me.
As for the cookbooks, I have a friend who spends most of her summer and a good part of the winter cooking at 4-H camp. Several of the books contained recipes for “mega cooking” or “cook once-eat-for-month”. They contained the ingredients calculated out for up to 25 servings in some cases. I knew these were books she would enjoy and could use. Further, she just took in three children for whom their mother, a relative, could no long provide. A collection of family friendly meals in a dozen or more cookbooks might come in handy, I thought. When I spoke with her Thursday evening, she said she’d taken quite a few, but left plenty for a young friend, newly married and setting up her own home.
I unearthed a couple of treasures – cookbooks I’d forgotten I had, recipe cards containing my mother’s and grandmother’s handwriting … and a cookbook from my mother’s church.
She went to this church off and on throughout the 30 years we lived in Boise. The congregation was always kind and one pastor had presided there throughout our membership. In 1983, my sophomore year of high school, the mother’s club at Red Rock Christian Church published a cookbook. My mom likely bought the comb-bound, photocopied collection of recipes to support the church. She too was a cookbook collector. I can see her sitting on the couch flipping through each page, thinking about what she might cook. I do not remember a recipe she particularly liked. It doesn’t look like she used the book much at all. I was 16 in 1983 and far too wrapped up in my own world to have noticed.
All I really remember is that she loved the people at Red Rock, appreciated the pastor and spoke fondly of her visits there – although they were infrequent.
When my mother moved into an assisted living facility, I cleaned out her cookbook collection keeping a few pieces, but mostly through the rest haphazardly into the “goodwill” pile. I grabbed this one and started to toss it, but on second thought tucked into the “keep” pile. I don’t even remember sticking into my own shelf.
Flipping through the pages, I was touched by care with which it was produced. Amused by the pre-computer production values. Warmed by the poems and helpful hints tucked in between the recipes.
I can always tell when I’m on the path God, or the Universe (insert your own deity) has designed for me because doors open, ideas flow and opportunities abound. On this very Tuesday I was deep in thought about two things; writing my own cookbook and discerning my own spirituality.
I love to cook. I love history, especially the history of the small town and large rural county in which I live. I have long wanted to write a heritage cookbook containing not only the recipes but the stories behind the recipes. I’ve started it often and gotten sidetracked. (A common occurrence in my life.) The local historical society has plans to open a new museum in 2011 or so and the timing seems good to actually start and finish the project. I am afraid of getting sidetracked, afraid of spending a lot of time and energy on the project only to have a bunch of books that don’t sell…terrified I’ll be in over my head all the way around. I know this is a good project. I just have to create a plan to get it done without overwhelming myself.
I have often wished in my adult life there was a Red Rock Christian – like church near me. There is, simply, not. I have never found a place where I felt as comfortable as I did there. The possible exception is the local Catholic Church. I converted to Catholicism about 12 years ago and enjoy it with little hesitation.
My oldest daughter recently started attending a Christian school about 25 miles south of our home. Several of the teachers are active evangelists and in our short stay at the school, my daughter as already been exposed to videos and other lessons about evangelizing to others. I’m not a huge fan of this practice and it’s made me uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s appropriate in an academic setting, first of all and I don’t find the judgment of others very Christian-like. I really love the song lyric that says, “they’ll know we are Christians by our love”. I think there is more than one way to God and that it’s not our place to judge the path other’s choose, but to love them for who and what they are. If another religion blesses someone’s heart and fills their needs, regardless of my opinion of that particular faith, then there is no reason to question or criticize how they found that peace. A far better method of evangelism, I think, is leading by example.
I knew when we enrolled her in the school, there would be challenges to my philosophy – and that I would be in the minority. But what this situation has truly highlighted is that I do not practice my own religious beliefs nearly enough. I rarely attend church. I no longer actively read the Bible or research my own questions about the Church or my own belief system. How can I honestly look at the teacher’s at my daughter’s school and question how they practice their faith, when I do not practice my own?
Finding this cookbook and allowing my thoughts to return to the Christian kindness I felt at Red Rock was like a bit of Divine intervention…a reminder that practicing what I preach is part of a recipe for Christian living.
If I am truly to live the example I expect others to live, I need to write because that is what I do. I need to write the heritage cookbook because it’s a project that would bless my home and the homes of others.
Becoming more active within my church, but more importantly, in my faith would bless my heart – and offer continuing faith enrichment to my children – in much the same way my mother taking me to church at Red Rock Christian has continued to bless me.

What am I listening to: Today NPR. I needed some intelligent conversation, even if I wasn’t an active participant.

What inspired me today: This passage, which I have seen before, but not thought of in years…found in the Red Rock Cookbook
TAKE TIME
Take time to think...it is the source of power
Take Time to play…it is the secret of perpetual youth
Take time to read… it is the fountain of wisdom
Take time to pray ... it is the greatest power on earth
Take time to love and be loved…it is a God – given privilege
Take time to be friendly … it is the road to happiness
Take time to laugh… it is the music of the soul
Take time to give … it is too short a day to be selfish
Take time to work… it is the price of success
Take time to do charity …it is the key to heaven

A new FebYOUary

So it's Feb.1. All in all, I'm think 2010 is off to a good start.
I spent January focusing doing something for me each day. It's been a good experience. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. Sometimes, it's easy to forget I have needs when I'm so busy taking care of everyone else it seems.
I'm going to continue my "do something for myself" theme for the rest of the year, but I think I need to add a little something to it.
For February, I'm going to be more conscious of honoring myself and my body -- according to my needs -- not the messages from the media, my family and friends or anyone else.
This is something we learn about when going through eating disorder recovery. Truth be told, I'm not sure how much I actually embraced it.
I know, for a fact, I'm really good at denying it.
Example: There is a tape that plays in my head CONSTANTLY -- it's ED -- but I have a hard time deleting this tape. Each winter, it's harder to get out and be physically active -- especially since I've fallen a couple of times this winter and really hurt myself. So I tend to not so much gain weight, but fill out...
I easily allow EDs tape to play. Spending far too much time beating myself up for the plumpness.
So today I let it go. I hit "stop" on that tape player, took out the imaginary tape and jumped up and down on the cassette. (Yes, that tape is that old)
All I've really wanted to do this winter is hibernate. It's been dark and cold and I have craved time at home to do nothing and everything -- but not spend a lot of time away from homing serving others.
What do other animals do while they hibernate? They lose muscle tone. The use up their stores. I've decided that's what I've been doing.
Ya know what? That's OK. I'm honoring an instinct.
But the days are getting shorter and more and more I'm finding myself wanting to take a walk and I do when I can.
Today I registered for a 10K in May. I like to have a goal and this will be a fun event.
It'simple things. Paying attention when my stomach tells me I'm full. Allowing myself to take a nap sometimes. Reading. Sewing. It's not that I'm shirking responsibilities. But I'm letting go of the, "You have to earn joy" thing. Been working on that for years.
But there's more to it than even all those things. Today I looked in the mirror. I looked haggard. Beat up. I didn't actually feel that way. I just looked like it.
So to honor my body today, I took a nice shower, I brushed my hair. I put a little bit of mascara on. Lip gloss. I put on clean clothes.
I'm not going to be on the cover of vogue, but I put on clothes that honored my body and my mood.
So again this month, I'll issue the challenge to you. How are you honoring yourself and your body today?

Creative musing

Here's what I did for myself today:
I spent the morning... and a portion of the afternoon sewing. Were there a ton of other things I could ...or should... have been doing....but I went next door, where, conveniently, there is a quilt shop and sewing studio... and I worked on the cutest little heart shaped bag.
I didn't finish it, but will post pictures when I do.
It was so relaxing! Good ol' fashioned female bonding. The other women there and I talked about darn near everything and shared a nice lunch.
Lately, I've been craving creativity. I have the urge to create art or sew something. Write.
In my world, other things to be in the way. Kid stuff. Family stuff. School stuff. House stuff.
Each Wednesday, my neighbor has a sewing workshop. Sometimes it's just an Unfinished Object workshop where we work on whatever projects we have going on. Sometimes, there's a more formal class. For part of the summer, I was diligent about going to the workshops. But then I got busy and all that other stuff go in the way. So after the first of the year, when I started doing my "what am I doing for me" crusade, I vowed to again make a commitment to going to the classes.
Sometimes, I think, we get in the mindset that we have to earn the right to do the things we love. Once again, postpone joy.
So, despite all the other things I SHOULD have been doing... I allowed myself to get lost in creativity and estrogen power.
It was great!
Guess what? All those shoulds are still there. We lived. I'm just as far behind as I was before I went to the sewing shop. But I feel so much better! I love the purse I'm creating.
And for a person who rarely relaxes -- I relaxed.
So, for my first month of Do something for myself each day, I'm pretty happy with how it's going. I'm removing clutter, I'm not postponing joy, I'm celebrating me.
Not a bad way to kick off the year!