simple pleasures

Ahhhh, this feels so good! I promised myself that if I attacked the dining room, I could sit down and play with some words. It took quite a while, as I allowed myself to indulge a few pleasant distractions and to make dinner, but it's cleaned, neatened, and minus another 3 square feet of carpet (thankfully!!). Of course, I hadn't factored in the cleaning up after dinner, so there is someone home, rather than my planned solitude. No matter: he likes to read, and when I'm finished here, we'll read together and snuggle for a while. Everyone else is at some practice or other, and even the dogs have decided to stop wrestling for the time being. Radio on, candles lit, smile on lips.....what more could I ask for?

Today was one of those days when I realize just how blessed I am. Despite our visit from Sandy, we had no real issues here, other than being home bound for two (rather pleasant!) days--our power stayed on, no water in the basement, nothing larger than twigs off the trees. We are exceptionally grateful, and have said so, again and again. Our friends and relatives all came through the storm with similar stories, although one dear friend had to evacuate his mother, and still doesn't quite know how her house fared. His car suffered a direct tree hit, but they are safe. I continue to pray for those who didn't fare as well.

At work, I was exceptionally productive--whether because of the extended weekend break, or just the knowledge that we'll be lucky if we can finish our projects by the end of the school year, I don't know. What I do know is that it felt great to get so much accomplished in my half day. So much that I am really looking forward to tomorrow. Another blessing. [smile]

Chatting with a couple of friends topped off my afternoon. Through the magic of Facebook, I was able to "visit" with a friend in Maine, a friend in Harrisburg, and another in Tennessee, as well as my husband; all while making the dining room pretty and presentable! Gotta love it! Just another blessing (as if "just" could ever describe a blessing), showing me the amazing power of bona fide friendship, truth and honesty. I really do have some of the best friends I could ever hope or ask for: they are as much family as friends, and fall into that special category of people that could be mixed together in a room without me, and still get along like they've known each other forever, simply because they are the cream of the crop, the real deal, the best.

Let's see, what else shone through as a blessing today? Texting with my sister on her lunch break...homemade applesauce, and rice that didn't burn a grain...green tea with honey....the last of the pudding with lunch...this adorable picture of Guy that I put in my coaster last night...some of my favorite songs on the radio....the word "impeccable"....joyful greetings as everyone arrived home....a phone call wherein I was asked if I am proud of my son ("Oh, YES! So proud of him!")....a smile on my face all day long....wearing my new pants...simply everything about today. My life is just where it should be. From time to time, I've tried to pull the tiller--HARD--in one direction or another, but following the current without fighting it has led me to a wonderful, blessed place. Thanks, God, for a beautifully simple day.

what to do

How am I preparing for Hurricane Sandy? Other than the usual, I'm making granola. And I'm printing directions for craft projects I've found on Pinterest and would like to try. Guy has the Weather Channel on, and is flipping to any storm coverage he can find--I'm trying to avoid watching and listening; preferring to look out the windows for now. I know at some point, I will long for the information flow, as there are predictions of up to 10 days without power. There's no way any batteries will last that long in this house! A dear friend has offered to be our evacuation site, if necessary, but we'll reserve that for emergency, as there are the five of us, plus two (rather big) dogs and Mom. We'll see. Next, I will probably hard boil the eggs, since at least two of us like them that way. Then I'll make soup for lunch.

The combination of dire storm warnings, full moon and the actual air pressure, I have this strong desire to curl into a ball and cry until the whole thing is over. Three days of tears would not only make me look rather lovely for the next week (puffy face, burned eyes and enlarged nose), but will also leave me with a strong desire to sleep for the next two days after that. Too much to deal with, so I'm resisting....

There's also the other Sandy I'm thinking about. Almost 20 years ago, Guy and I lost a baby, that we then named Sandy; an ambiguous name for a baby we never saw, and a baby whose very existence was questioned by the same doctor who confirmed the pregnancy. I've credited Sandy for being a good part of the reason I am the Mom that I am; for helping me through the tough (read: lonely) days of bed rest at the end of my pregnancy with Jonathan. Frequently, I find Sandy in the back of my mind, but the pain is just a faint memory. Occasionally, I wonder what Sandy would be doing now, but then I realize that our family would not be what it is today--at all. None of the combination of personalities would be what I know as our loving home. Not that I think it would be worse, or better, but different is different, and cannot ever be seen, in this case.

So, back to the granola, then eggs....followed by caramel apples, soup, and anything else that will keep me as busy as possible while the TV is on, maybe even some yoga. When (if) the power is out, at some point we will get tired of each other, I'm sure, but in the meantime, the older boys (including the extra "son" we had for the night) are still fast asleep, and the younger two are being as lazy as possible. Guy's moving the cars, and I'm wondering what the dogs will do later today (they don't like getting wet in the rain), and why there are so many cars driving past our house. And trying not to think about our niece at Hofstra and Jonathan at Ithaca. All while praying that we keep our sense of humor, if nothing else.

The laundry and porch paint-prep are done. Must remember to run the dishwasher soon.....

sparkle and shine

Yesterday, I was asked how others would describe me--in one word. Let me tell you, SO MANY words flew through my head--all accompanied by the faces of the people who would use them (and even some of their expressions)! In that nanosecond, the words were categorized in my mind, and I'm sure I smirked as I replied, "That depends, a whole lot, on who is describing me!" The question was then amended to "What word would Kimi use?" To which I replied, "Positive."

At home, a good amount of discussion (and laughter) ensued. Drew interjected that it was an unfair question; how could anyone know what word someone else would use to describe oneself? I told him probably the best way would be to ask. What word would he use to describe me? "Well-rounded." Truly one of the sweetest things I could have imagined a 14-year-old saying to his momma. When I then asked Guy, he replied, "Complex, or complicated." Amused, I asked if that was in a good way, or a bad way. He then wanted to amend his answer to "Wife," but after a lesson from Drew regarding which kinds of nouns can be used as adjectives (Thanks, Ms. H-B!), Guy finally settled on "Coffee" as his descriptor: bold, strong, warm, lively, soothing.....it still makes me shake my head, but, in a funny way, I'm quite flattered. Would anyone besides my SSJ Coffeehouse mates understand? Does it matter much?

At dinner, Henry decided, with lightning speed, that the word he would use is "Unbalanced." In the best way possible, of course! I can always count on Henry to confound and bemuse me--and to try to tell me it's a compliment. He insisted, though, and may even explain himself someday. Weird kid. Wonder where he gets that from?

Later, I presented the case in my Facebook status. The responses I got warmed my heart, and, interestingly, were not any that had floated (floated?? No, rocketed!!!) through my mind in that conference room. Most of those that I tried to mentally sift through were related to the people I have recently decided I don't need in my life anymore: "negative" was one of them. Not too long ago, someone told me, "You really are quite negative, you know." I was puzzled: this was the only person I have ever heard that from. "Sarcastic," "Cranky," even "Bossy" I'd heard before from time to time, but only ever in reference to a mood, not my basic make-up. (Maybe the Bossy from time to time....but I've grown up a lot since then!) It shook me, especially since it was at a very shaky time for me. I went to work the next day still wondering what, exactly, was meant by it. Lo and behold, one of my co-workers said, out of the blue, "Stephanie, you are one of the most positive people I've ever met! I love working with you!" Ironically, she said this as I was trying to spin a complaint I had, because I didn't know her very well! Between that day and the next, three people mentioned something about my positive attitude, bringing me back to my center--and at a tenuous time for my own balance, mind you! Sometimes the 'one word' giver needs to be disregarded.

Anyway, those who responded with their "one word" for me are people that I hold so dear in my heart. Many were along the same vein: Linda's "Multi-talented, or Multi-faceted" was similar to Drew's response, as well as Allison's and Shawna's choices: "Brilliance" and "Effervescent," respectively. Before that whole Twilight movie thing, "Sparkle" used to be a very nice little descriptor in our house! My other Linda wondered if "A+++" counts as a word--she is a nut! (That's the word I think I would use for her, but with the warmest smile and a great big hug, too!) "Steadfast," from Amy, warmed my heart; especially since just before I saw it, I had been thinking that "Resilient" or "Loyal" would have been good responses. Steadfast is about right.

I worried momentarily as I considered what to say if some of the words I might use would sound arrogant. And would they really be words that someone else would use, or were they words that I would wish others would use to describe me? It was the hardest part: "Intelligent," "Organized," "Managerial," "Amazing," "Unusual"--how many of them are words I've actually heard others use when talking to me, and how many are words that I'd like them to use? I was glad when the question was modified. Another word Kim would have used: "Sympathetic."

Then I saw the word "Real," and it made me cry. A really, really good cry, with the warm heart, full-face smile, and laughter. "Real" is what I've always wanted to be. "Real" is what I work for, pray for, live for. Real. Connie considers me to be Real.

I do, too, although I haven't always, and that makes it all the more touching. I've been praying for the strength to be myself, to continue to be me, to be as real as I can be. Thank you, God, for answering prayers; for guiding me to the people who fill my life with light. Thank you, friends, for the words you share with me, giving me the energy and fortitude to share my words with you. Thank you for being the sparkle in my life.

black and white and red all over

Yesterday, I was asked a question about myself that really got me to thinking. The kind of question that, upon hearing it, makes you want to sit around and discuss the possibilities for hours. Unfortunately, I didn't have that kind of time when it was asked--it was more of a "think on your feet" kind of thing. As I reviewed my day with Guy yesterday, I told him I was pretty excited to have something clear to write about today!

The question (and I hope I get this just right): "Where do you see yourself in the grey areas of life?" (DS*) I asked for a little clarity (lol--clarity on 'grey'), and she responded that I had been talking about following and adhering to rules and regulations, and she wondered if I saw things in black and white, or shades of grey. Actually, I think it was the coolest question ever! So many thoughts starting flying through my head; memories of good and bad things that have happened to me, rules and laws I have followed, made, or broken, who I am now versus who I was even just a year ago.....yet I knew I only had a moment or two to think and to respond.

My response (the "simple" answer, as it were) went something like this: "When it comes to rules, regulations, and expectations, I tend to see them as either followed or not; black or white. When I am expected to do a job, when I am being paid to do a job, that is the job that I do, as I've been told to do it. In other aspects of my life, though, I tend to be a bit more grey. However, if I see a way to do something better, or that makes more sense, I will happily say so!"

But for the rest of the conversation, a part of my mind was on that question. What a great question!! Especially for me. I hadn't done that kind of soul searching in a long time. And for it to be so applicable to me, at this moment in time, struck me as pretty amazing.

So the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it's not so much about black and white for me. It's more about the details. I'm a detail person, and if there are details--lots of them--I can place importance with those details. The speed limit in town is 25 because of kids living there, and their associated balls, dogs, bikes, toys, and elderly relatives; therefore, driving 25 is important. The pass at school is important because I've been there when the school was on lock down, and the room was called to see if everyone was accounted for, as well as when there was a bomb threat, the building was evacuated, and we had to account for who was in the room at the time and earlier in the day. When the laptops were stolen, too, there was a breakdown in the "system" we used for accountability. When I would walk the deck as an official, it was my responsibility to disqualify swimmers who were not using a legal stroke, regardless of how "hard they were trying." Deadlines, size requirements for pictures and artwork, even parking spaces; all of these things mean something, have details that are important, so I adhere to them. The way Guy put it was pretty direct: if there's a rule, I'm more likely to follow it than not. That's the way I've always been.

But I've also made Guy crazy telling him that there are shades of grey in so many areas of life, because I do see it that way. (Not just grey, actually. I think the world is full of very colorful ideas. It's definitely not a grey place!) What I see as being terribly offensive, another person might not even notice. Things that don't bother me at all might seem like disasters to someone else. There are so many ways to see political issues, personal issues, family problems, attitudes and personalities. If all of that was black and white, the world would be a dull place, indeed. And, of course, all night last night I had example after example of things that I see as grey areas, but today.....zip! Oh, well, I think I can get my point across anyway.

My longer, more in depth response to the question is that I see things in details, in colorful bits and scraps that come together to make a tapestry of life, knowledge, courtesy, fun, decorum and spontaneity. I see myself as a quilt, or a painting--a collage. It is, as Guy pointed out lovingly, one of the reasons I tend to get on people's nerves. (I do, and I know I do, when it comes to following directions, but when those same people don't, they get on mine. C'est la vie.) Many people seem to want to pick and choose which rules they follow or enforce. I can't. Literally. I've tried and I can't. Guidelines, on the other hand, I can make all kinds of gooey! No problem there! That's when my creative side kicks in and we can really have fun.

Try it. Ask yourself where you fall on the grey scale, or ask some of your friends where they put themselves, and then have a lively, lovely discussion. And then ask yourself how you've changed from where you were a year ago, five years ago, a decade ago. A neat little exercise. Thank you, DS.


*Name omitted purposely

date night

A clear, crisp October evening. Absolutely beautiful. There are stars in the sky, and a half moon shining down. One of those rare, perfect night sky evenings, where the temperature and the sky, and even the day of the week have fallen into just the right alignment.

As I sit here, dinner eaten and cleaned up, coffee prepped for the morning, even the dogs calmed down, I am waiting (somewhat patiently!) for a Monday night hammock date with my husband. In the back of my mind, I know his favorite football team is not playing tonight, but I also know that has never stopped him from watching football before. So in my heart, I know that this unexpected, but much anticipated, cuddle time is just because.

Earlier in the day, I had emailed him that today, tomorrow, this week, is not quite a "normal" week for me. Today and tomorrow, I have "extras" on my calendar, and Wednesday is my first day without appointments, athletic department work, or meetings; just my usual work and Faith Matters. I know that he read in that email my need to connect--before I even realized that's what I was saying. I am truly blessed; sharing my life, my heart, my love with him.

It's not always been easy, and from time to time, the road has seemed downright impassable. But more than anything, I am grateful for the faith inside of me, the faith at the center of our souls, that helped us to muscle past the boulders in our way. We've come to a beautiful place--one of those spots where there would be a camera sign on the side of the highway--and the vista is incredible! I would not have appreciated the view nearly as much without the obstacles, and the hills and mountains we've had to climb to get here. All of it, though, was worth it, when this--today--is the outcome.

toe the line

The other day, after changing my Facebook status, I got an IM that made me chuckle afterwards. The status was rather innocuous, and the exchange that followed, though it meant something to the two of us, would have meant very little to many others. What tickled my funny bone was the fact that it happened.

Before I started blogging, I would play with the words in my status very carefully in order to sum up my thoughts of the day succinctly, completely and, oftentimes, somewhat obscurely. Those who know me, and know me well, would probably either pick up on the "code" I was using, or realize there was something they'd "get" if they asked. (These days, I just blog it right out--still choosing my words carefully most of the time, but without the need to be succinct. Those who want to know, do.) I have dear, wonderful friends who would text me, email me, call, or even comment on my status. Many times, the association made would be off-base, by a little or a lot, but, to be perfectly honest, that doesn't matter to me. What matters is when my words touch someone.

Anyway, I have a friend I don't see often when it's not summer swimming time, and she will text or call to talk after seeing blogs that touch her in one way or another. To me, it always seems out of the blue, and that is, quite possibly, the best part. Her contact always serves to remind me that I need to push past my isolationism a bit more now and then, and reach out to my friends, too. The other day, another friend, who I've known for so long I really don't remember not knowing her, is the one who IM'd me. Not only did she know something was up, she knew exactly what was up, and we chatted. Both of these ladies are examples of just how friendship works.

Why did this make me chuckle? Because there have been people in my past (my recent past, unfortunately) that have had this mistaken idea that they know who I am based on my status updates, my Tweets, or even my blogs. Or think they should. These people inevitably had asked my husband just what my updates meant; what, exactly, was I trying to say, and why didn't I just say it? My husband, to his credit, would usually tell them that if they wanted to know, they should ask me. That is what a friend would do.

That is precisely what my friends do.

Over the summer, a very perceptive friend texted me in the middle of the night when I posted a status at a time of night that I don't usually post, one that made her wonder if I needed to talk. I did need to, and she was precisely the right person at the moment. Another friend emailed me from far away, just 'checking in' because of a word in my status. Others have laughed with me about the inside jokes hidden in the updates, knowing that the words will look completely different to anyone else who sees them. But the connection is the thing.

I pour my heart out on my blog, but really only the part of my heart that I am willing to pour. My friends, my household, and my dogs are the only ones who know the rest. Someday I may pour the rest out, but only when and because I want to. If there is something you think is missing; something that you don't understand, you have a choice: ask me, or make your own assumptions. Either one is fine with me, BUT choosing the latter does not give you any true knowledge of me. Perhaps the gaps are there intentionally -- because I need to talk, or because I just don't want to share -- and perhaps you've just missed the point.

What I've found, in a lifetime of reading, is that when words touch me, they are telling me something about me, not about the author, necessarily, and when I want to know if I have something in common with the author, I dig to find out. Most of the time, quite frankly, I'm more gratified by what I've learned about myself. I love the comments that I get on my blog (though they are few, and not all get published) because they show that I'm making a connection, and helping others to learn, or admit, what's in their own hearts -- the sorrow, the pain, the love, the joy, the promise. The ones that don't get published are only marginally related to the posts, perhaps by sharing just a word; they are not carefully worded or thought out in any way. Nor are they edited for spelling, punctuation, syntax. In actuality, they are posted spitefully, and with a sense of entitlement, and they are being viewed as evidence of harassment. I will not be bullied, in person or 'on paper,' today, or ever. Another sweet friend called this anonymous commenter a "dimwit" and asked how I liked that word. I think it fits. Hiding behind anonymity is cowardly -- especially when the veil is so thin.

left arm/right words

Today, I'm feeling it. I'd like to say I don't know why, but I actually have a very clear idea what brought this on. What is "this," you ask? This is the raw, pulsating pain of old grief. For me, new grief was different from what I feel now -- when it was new, it struck at everything: the ticking of a clock, the warm smile of a friend, the memories, the realization of dreams dashed. It was also sudden and uncontrollable pain that caused tears that were explainable. Explainable because anyone who asked would understand where it was coming from; they could relate.

Key points: "anyone who asked" "they could relate"

Days like today, I feel more a need to hide it because most people don't seem to understand -- or want to. Time, and how it heals, is relative, and unless someone is willing to listen with the goal of understanding, their listening will not be a comfort to me. (Perhaps to someone else, because grief and its associated pains are very personal. Very personal, indeed.) Days like today, I wish I could ask advice of someone who is no longer here to enjoy a cup of coffee with the conversation. Not that I don't ask the advice; I do, and I get responses, too, whether you, as the reader, want to (or can) believe that or not. I do get responses. Sometimes they are very clear and concise, and sometimes they are, not surprisingly, much more Socratic in nature, playing to my more natural, questioning nature.

All my life, I've spent a good amount of my time alone either replaying conversations I've had or imagining conversations that I think should be. Some would call the former "dwelling" and some would call the latter "visualization," but in all honesty, it plays from my introversion. So many times I later realize exactly what it was that I wanted or needed to say, but, taken by surprise, I didn't. Replaying doesn't change anything about that interaction, but it does make me feel like I've had my say. Yesterday, I envisioned a conversation I'm really thinking is inevitable, and, actually, very important. In that case, I do need to practice my feelings more than my words, as it tends to be my emotional state that negatively impacts my vocalizations. I have questions that need answers; as much for myself as for those who need to answer. No, that's not true: the answers are probably more important for them than for me.

What I wish I could ask is this: will they answer. At all. Answering honestly is not at issue (I don't think that's possible, as it would change the past and the future). Is there a point in setting the table if it's likely no one will attend? That's the discussion I imagine we would have had. And the reason this brought on today's raw pulsing is not anything more profound than that I'd like a left arm hug after getting nowhere with the discussion. I could really use that. It would be the reassurance that I am me, the sum of my own parts. That I am not overlooked and ignored by those who mean something in my life, just by those who are insignificant in the end. Insignificant because they cannot even bring themselves to rise above.

Fortunately, I have a husband who understands that he cannot replace that hug with his own, but he can supplement with his heart open wide, and his shoulder to lean on when there are days like this. And I have a house full of boys who know my heart, because I wear it on my sleeve here (though not necessarily in public -- that would be too extroverted of me!) at home. They all know me, my moods and my tears, my grief and my joy, and just what it takes to light the spark of joy when I need it most. Even in my most pained moments, I know that I am both blessed and loved.

So, the conversation may or may not occur, and I know that, really, it doesn't matter one bit. I've said what I needed to say -- here in the forum of my kitchen, and, more importantly, in my heart. The rest is what it is.