Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Short Lessons in Mourning














"Let's sing hello together,
hello, hello, hello,
let's sing hello together,
hello, hello, hello.

Let's sing hello to Oliver,
hello, hello, hello,
let's sing hello to Oliver,
hello, hello, hello."

My three year-old participates in a Beginning Music Makers class where at the start of each session we sing and wave hello to each student. At the end of class the kids know it is time to go home when we sing goodbye to each of them. Some of the children get a little mad because they don't want to leave and some even shed a few tears. Luckily that age-group is easily distracted!

I've been reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and can't shake the feeling as I work my way towards the end that I will need time to mourn the loss of my new friends Francie, Katie and Neeley. Everyday when I sit down to read about their daily adventures and tragedies I sing the "Hello" song to them in my head because I am so happy to be with them again. There are a lot of great books out there but only a few that suck me in so strongly that I feel as though I am a part of the characters' family and I'm sure after I close the book each night that they go sleep dreaming of me as I do them.

As I am nearing the end of the book I am beginning to feel that same sense of loss that I have felt in prior captivating books. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn isn't the type of book that you read so you can reach the conclusion to find out "who done it" because there is no villain unless you think life ought to be fair. I could reread the book but that would be like looking at pictures of deceased loved ones. You can revisit them but it isn't like sitting down with a fresh cup of tea, it is more like reusing the tea bag from yesterday.

So tonight I will sing goodbye to Francie, Katie and Neeley with a wistful heart.

"Goodbye Francie,
goodbye Katie,
goodbye Neeley,
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye."

It has been grand!

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

It takes two

I came from a mother who embraces the "Self-Help" philosophy of improving our lives. Growing up our bookshelves were always filled with volumes citing ways to be healthier, secrets to loving yourself or someone else, practicing Tough Love, coping with alcoholism and how to find happiness. Sometimes I would peruse those books but never really "got" how a book could help you put your life back together or how words had the capability to make you happier. Apparently none of the early versions had the correct information because when my mother gives me books to donate to the library often times there are several current self-help titles among them. She is one of many who want to believe that it could be as easy as reading a book, that one of the books she purchases will finally hold the answer, the secret, the golden ring to happiness and self-actualization.

In college I intently read The Road Less Traveled and People of the Lie. Reviving Ophelia was in there at some point and one semester while dabbling in Women's Studies I found myself deep in Fire in Belly:On Being a Man. I remember reading them and having hope for myself, my future children, and mankind. There is a sense of power and potential you maintain while reading books that are intended to pull you out of your comfort zone. You read and all the while your insides are screaming "I can do this! I can make a difference!" Then you finish the book and that feeling of empowerment slowly leaks out of you because you are not submerged in the message on a daily basis.

And this is where The Love Dare was different.

For 40 days the first thing I did was check my email and receive my assignment for that day. I lived intentionally in my marriage for 40 days. On Day 1 I had to resolve to say nothing negative about my spouse for that day. I tried to take it a step further and vowed to say nothing negative about him for the entire 40 days. I wasn't trying to "one-up" the challenge but I know that I am quick to judge and am often much harder on Vinnie about what I view as his inadequacies than I need to be. To be successful at starting and completing The Dare you had to be honest with yourself, your spouse and your marriage. And that, in my opinion, is a tall order. We get so comfortable in our actions and our words that we assume too much, too often. The Dare forced me out of that plush place and put me into a place of reflection.

Early on in the 40 days it was easy to see that my efforts were worth it. We were communicating better and more frequently, there were few harsh words between us, he was openly appreciative of things he never seemed to notice before and we were happier in general. He had no idea I was participating in The Love Dare but was pleased with this alien that had replaced his short-tempered judgmental wife.

At the end of the 40 days I stopped The Dare even though I knew I should have continued to focus on the main behavior changing components. It was easy to lose focus, to let happy-alien-wife be replaced with demanding-expectant-woman. I noticed, he noticed. I rented Fireproof and we both watched it separately. He wanted to know when I was going to start The Love Dare and when I told him I had already done it I was met with surprise because he had taken for granted the positive changes that were evident a few weeks earlier. Now we ask each other what day we are on and laugh because he has to get past Day 1 before moving on. He claims he doesn't have "the recipe" but I think it may show up in his in-box soon.

Simple changes can do a lot to any relationship but it was obvious that it does take two people to make marriage successful. After all, marriage is a union of two people and it takes the efforts of both to keep it working. The "self-help" business is booming and you can read all you want but if you don't actively make changes to your behaviors and thoughts you aren't going to gain much. As with anything from running a marathon to making a marriage work it is about effort. You won't finish the race if you haven't put in the mileage for months before and you won't be sitting in the Meijer Cafe drinking coffee (Okay, so Vinnie would rather die than sit in the Meijer Cafe but I just love those older couples that I see there!) when you're 80 with your spouse unless you train everyday to make there.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Catch Up, Sort Of

I just received a request for my pretzel warfare experience to be expounded on in a blog post but I'm a bit behind in my posting priorities so it may have to wait a day or two. I'm having the same blogging trouble that I've always had and probably won't go away anytime soon. I write all my posts in my head while I'm running and somehow my brain does not see fit to print out a replica upon my arrival at home. This may be to the readers' (Mrs. A help with that apostrophe please!) advantage because a lot gets done in my head while I'm on a run. And people think I just run to get away from Vinnie!

So I still need to recap and finalize the Love Dare (Aren't you curious?), a tidy Lenten related post might be nice too but maybe I should wait until Lent is over and the etching on My Lenten Cross has been rubbed smooth. I had a great post about the Star Bursts my mother was trying to poison my kids with all wrinkle free in my mind but I'm trying to Change My Heart during the next 40 days and need to love my mother's efforts even if I would rather scream.

Tomorrow I head off to U of M with my "responsible driver" (I'm wondering if they will give her some type of responsibility test to determine her level of dependability, not that I think she would fail, but how do they KNOW? Do they size her up, ask her to flex, or just Google her name?) to have some small sections of my muscle biopsied because Lupus might have found a friend called Myopathy or Dystropy but we don't think so. We're just checking to make sure he isn't hanging with the wrong crowd. And if he is there will be hell to pay because I. Don't. Have. Time. For. Something. Else. I can't eat for 6 hours before which may be more torture to me than having the muscle "nipped" from my deltoid. My blood sugar and I don't get along well either, it likes to dip too low when it does not have a constant input of fresh, whole foods (Er, read: chocolate.) therefore, the business of fasting never goes well. I hope my trustworthy driver will be patient, especially because my a.m. coffee is not allowed either.

And maybe, just maybe, U of M should not be so organized and forthright because after reading the Needle Muscle Biopsy procedure handout I'm not looking so forward to my twilight sleep. It states: "You may sense the deep stab of the instrument and feel the little nips the instrument makes as it snips off samples from within the muscle. The nurse can give you a more pain-killing medication by vein. The doctor will usually penetrate the muscle in a different direction to get samples from another part of the muscle." I'm not aiming for a natural, unmedicated birth here people! They better pump that "a more pain-killing medication by vein" BEFORE the nips are made. And Panera better be serving up something yummy tomorrow because my dependable driver has been instructed to take me there immediately following the procedure.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Why I love to Read


Because sometimes the author writes about me and that leaves me feeling pretty good about myself, even if the author makes me sound a little quirky:

"She tired to figure out her own life philosophy and came up with something she once heard a rock star-Eric Clapton, she thought-say in an interview about not being a big fan of, uh, people. She wasn't either. She preferred-as ridiculous as it sounded-being with herself. She like reading and watching movies without commentary. She couldn't handle men and their egos and their constant boasting and their raging insecurities."


When I read that particular passage in my latest book it made me sit up a bit higher and open my eyes wider. It was the same type of realization that hit me when I discovered most people don't hate clothing (Just a few select "special" people are hindered by wardrobe sensitivities.) It was freeing in a way because I always assumed I was, well, bitchy for lack of a better term, for not seeking out oodles of people to spend my time with. I'm just not a fan of people and that is o.k. Why I sought out a degree in social work I have no idea, or maybe it was because I could usher my clients in and out and do what I could to offer them assistance without more than a professional committment. I wouldn't have to take them home for early morning conversation when I prefer to have none.

As a child, my home life was peculiar in many ways but one that stands out frequently in my memories is the fact that we must have been trained from an early age not to speak in the morning. Unless you were trying to claim you were too ill to go to school (In which case you were allowed to state your symptoms and wait dutifully for mom to ask if you wanted to go to school.) the expectation was shower, clothing, breakfast and out the door. All without a peep. My siblings may have different perceptions of this but whenever we happen to be together for the night as adults none of the three of us speak in the morning. And I'm not just referring to early morning, if you really want to have a conversation with me try and hit me up after noon where you will have a short window of opportunity before I revert my brain to hermit mode.

For those of you that I frequently find myself in social situations with and appear to be enjoying myself, I really am, but you may want to consider if there is something special about you or if you are quirky too.

Monday, February 16, 2009

The Weekend Was Fine

Even Maybe played hard! And I, I skied alone 2 days in a row. It was as close to Heaven as I could imagine while still on earth.




Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Don't Question My Love

All anyone needs to know is that not one negative word was released from my lips after my farmer husband hauled a load of beans to the elevator today and did this to my yard:



Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Damn Facebook


I'm convinced nobody is updating their blogs lately because they are too busy on Facebook letting people know that they are letting their dog out to pee. Yeah, I'm guilty too. But I don't even stop to let the dog out, she has just been peeing on the floor.

It doesn't help that is has been winter here. W.I.N.T.E.R. As is cold, windy, snowy. Depressing. And just when I finally had a day of running on actual pavement and not ice/snow covered roads it is snowing again.

So, now that my life is complete because I have reconnected with my fourth grade boyfriend (Come on people!) I've decided to get busy in the kitchen.


The Buchtie Babes
L to R: The famous Aunt Mary, Marie and myself


Buchtie: still hot and pipping on the baking sheet. And no, I can't share the recipe because only someone that has been making them for 80+ years can get it right.




Apparently this was a crucial step.



Cleanliness is very important at all times!



Guacamole anyone?



The featured item at Sunday dinner:
Smoky Tomato Salmon Chowder