Greener Grass

February 28, 2014

The dog truly didn’t understand he could literally walk right over the chain link fence into the front yard, since the snow level is ridiculously high. He barked and carried-on, defending his territory against the invading passerby people and dogs. I finally had enough, and called him in, relieving him of his insufferable duties. Salivating, until I gave him a treat, he calmed right down and laid on his cushy cedar-filled pad, contented to spend the remainder of the afternoon snoozing.  The cat got his treat too, though he didn’t spend half an hour deflecting thieves from the house. He believes, if the dog is having a snack, he should be tossed one as well. So be it.

We create our own fences, like the protective mutt. I could most likely escape mine just as easily as lifting one leg up and over at a time, skirting the sharp bits. Why is it then, we go ‘round and ‘round, not abandoning the very things that prevent us from screaming success, true love, healthy gums, a chic wardrobe, and organic mangoes in the middle of a blizzard. We are comfortable, I suspect, in our dissatisfaction, at least more accepting than being on-edge in the unknown.

Who knows, maybe the snacks are tastier on the other side of the chain link.

Nuts for Nylon

February 27, 2014

Seems as though everyone is willing to do what it takes to get a free nylon purple Barefoot bag. Some did a pleading dance, others texted smart messages, filled-out little survey cards, whispered promises in my ear, and one even claimed her mailman wanted one. Shocking. So many chatchkeys, we don’t know where to store them all. Didn’t take the time to scoot around the Home and Garden Show today. I was stuck at the booth, doling out shopping bags, pouring bubbly wines, and suggesting recipe options with the patrons of the Show.

Of course, I got into hot water at the tail end of the shift since I questioned a woman, who looked about 12 years old, got the responses I thought were sufficient and handed her a sample of wine. Unbeknownst to me, a Legal Bartender jumped all over me, saying she could get her license taken away, serving to minors. Since I hadn’t insisted on checking her ID, (she left it at home and was wandering around with her folks,) I was putting her “life” at risk. Hm. The young lady in question will be 25 in two days, told me the year of her graduation (2005), birth (1989) and the theme song at Senior Prom (I didn’t recognize the song, let alone the band.) I had no idea I was putting someone’s career in jeopardy. Typical event when the staff gets half the story (the Bartender is responsible for the liquor license of the Convention Center and has to be in charge during the assigned serving hours.) Well, I didn’t understand the pyramid of power or responsibility so I suppose I could take blame, explain to the judge it was my fault, and have someone bring me a cake with a knife in it to break-out of jail.

Talking Tissue

February 26, 2014

My box of kleenex states “I’m there when you are sad, love tissue.” “I am there when you run out of toilet paper. You’re welcome, tissue.” ”I’m there when you need to pick up icky things. Kindly, tissue.” ”I’m there when you’re sick. Feel better, tissue.” “On the top, please don’t leave me in your pocket when you do laundry.” Yikes, talking tissue!

I was summoned to generate a series of skills assessments at the Chiropractor’s office in North Saint Paul early this afternoon. Upon arrival, I completed an extensive Employment Application and got a copy of the job description.  Only then did I realize the position pays between $10 and $12 per hour, BOE (based on experience.) An easy  math test, personality test, ten key entry, typing test and short tour of the facilities got me revved. A long-time family business, that intends to grow this year, is hiring to fill one spot. Not certain how many others there are applying, but I was seated next to another applicant during this circuit testing process. She kept sighing throughout the exam and looked over my shoulder to see how she compared. I could have cared less who “won.” Though I believe I beat her out, on so many levels.

I put on hose for this? At least I hadn’t taken the time to shave, then I really would have been bummed-out. Where’s the tissue when I need one?  

The Littlest of Seed Savers

February 25, 2014

Five pair of eyes peered from behind frizzy braids, stick-straight tethers, puffed snarls, knotted tendrils, and hat-head to listen to stories about seeds, gardening, berries, pumpkins, and water from the sky. Storytime at the Riverview library produced cheerful moms and straining kiddies, too young for school, snuggling on the damp-from-draining-boots colorful rug. We giggle at the worms, eating and pooping (harharhar) to make proper earth, for plants that make food. Not one child had shown up for Storytime in weeks. I am thrilled to see so many turn out on the sub-zero sunny day. Moms hear about The Seed Library we have stored inside the Branch at the corner of Humboldt and George. They can pick up packets of vegetables, flowers, fruits, and herbs to grow in their garden, and learn about saving seeds for next season takers.  

The cherubs piped-in about the sun, rain, trees, my hairgoesallthewaydownmybacklikethis, I love peas, worms are for fishing, yucky dirt, some wandered off in the middle of the tale, another sits inches from the book about flying seeds, and helps me turn the bigger-than-life pages. Talk of flowers turns to food then to being cold and healthy snacks. I depart, refreshed, and nourished from the wee one energy. Until next Tuesday at 10:30am Storytime, when we discuss insects and how they help in the garden, I am complete.

Ending Happily

February 24, 2014

I believe in a happy ending. Don’t you.

All depends upon what constitutes happy, eh? If I am a better person today than I was yesterday, maybe last week, then, I consider it a happy ending. Falling in love with “Charming,” having babies, getting the white picket fence and dog, snappy car in the garage might bring the happy ending…or is that the beginning.

Each day, I decide on three things I need to accomplish to bring me the happiest-I-can-be-ending to my 17 hours awake time. When those have a big check mark next to these items (perhaps in pencil) then it is a happy (check) ending.

Since time, success, and a happy ending are all made up stuff…we can simply declare a happily ever after and…so it is!

Momentous Sniveling

February 23, 2014

Complaining can get me everywhere. At least that is what seems to be the motivation behind whimpering about the  nostril-hair-freezing temps, stockpiles of snow so high I cannot tell where the dog has meandered off to during our walks, gas gone up one day so I race to fill the tank, only to have it drop five cents the next morning, my Visa bill is coming and has my Izmir airline ticket price screams at me, and I am out of half-n-half therefore won’t choke down black coffee and have to resort to tea. My vocal distress only leads to more of the same. My essential oil diffuser spewing “Awaken” and “Peace and Calming,” deep breaths and a vigorous Pilates workout are what I need to jolt myself out of the trap.

A Gallery Opening took me out of my usual fray and into the splash of downtown life for an hour or two. Startling cement-box condos, elaborate stark décor, jolt me into submission. We meander three levels of jutting open-air layers, sipping tart wine, eating exclusive sweet and savory snacks, hobnobbing among friends. Felt as though I came from the rural naivety, sliced into the world (like Pullman’s The Subtle Knife) of trend and aristocratic posh. A kindred spirit chided the group about the evils of plastic water bottles, encouraged enlightened purchasing power, and won my applause. The alcohol took the edge off my icy driving jitters and I made it home lickety split. A bit of slipping and sliding, but I have no complaints.

Like the Plague, Only Better

February 22, 2014

I woke up this morning and diagnosed a very early case of happiness. This was before the cat meowed incessantly; dogs stood and shook their winter-weighted coats, collar tags jangled in alarm. Before I hit the frigid bathroom tiles and cold toilet seat. Everyone has to eat prior to my cranking up the coffeemaker, and enjoying my first cup of warmth. I can smell the pleasure of happy. Feel the sensation trolling down my spine, though twinges of pain shoot along the edges, remind me to apply essential oils to the skin. Shoveling can’t replace Pilates.

How did that rare, contagious disease hit so rapidly? Contentment is the norm ‘round here. Joy creeps-in on occasion. Maybe it has something to do with our little local Seed Library opening today. We are expecting a mob at the Riverview Branch, a crowd interested in building community through growing food in our yards and saving seeds to spread the wealth for next year.

I aim to spread this sickness to others today, all day, touching light switches, faucets, doorknobs, shaking hands and kissing babies, so beware. If I am within spitting distance, before the stroke of midnight, you will most likely catch happiness.

Ben Gay Snow Day

February 21, 2014

Snow has made it’s way under the door and into the house. Sneaky. The guy across the way, left two hours ago, making his way to the airport, and there is no sign of his footprints in the fresh flurries.

I have to generate a concrete strategy for shoveling this morning since the reservoirs are full. If I can manage to scoot the heavy mass down the long strip of driveway, may be able to accomplish it before I leave for work at 2:25, a mere seven hours from now. My arms, lower back, and hips already protest the rigorous lifting. Can hardly complain, at least I have an intact home, whose thermostat displays “59,” water runs freely out of the sink, and the shower is hot again. Fortune.

The kids are off from school so the Billy Goat tramping from upstairs, has been going on all day. Bella, the little dog I am caring for until tomorrow, sounds-off at each firm step, as though the intruder is coming down on top of our heads. After a long walk in the deep drifts, however, she is lounging on the side chair, finally accustomed to the footsteps. I fear her long, mournful howls that reverberate through the duplex, will alarm the neighbors, as I leave for my work shift. She doesn’t like being left at home, despite the fact that there is another dog here, as well as the guard cat, for companionship. No one to supply a lap for her comfort, though. Poor thing.

Tech Smart

February 20, 2014

Social media scares me. I am lucky to have texting capability on my cell phone, let alone navigating FB, Tweet, play the LinkedIn game, and check my four email address’ “In” boxes. Getting an updated photograph that doesn’t resemble Bob Barker (sorry Bob, no offense) is a challenge. Writing blogs, newsletters, texts, emails, and class material is the easy part. The bookkeeping, attachments, links, posts, ad pop-ups, Google followers, friending, ebook, calendar, scheduling, project recovery, contracts, accepting new friends, auto replys, and fetching a hot cup of tea in between, is more than my furry assistant can handle. Guess I have to raise the stakes.

Keeping my phone and ipod charged and cleaning the cat litter box is overwhelming at times. I got my SUV stuck, careening out of the driveway yesterday. Yes, I am freed, at the moment. Just took a bit of shoveling, language that sent the neighbor kids home, and some aggressive rocking, to release the tire from the high snow bank. Guess I should have hacked more at the ice divots in the area between the sidewalk and street. The Saint Paul City plow creates a dugout and I am out of steam, after piling snow up and over my shoulder height for an hour and a half, only to jab at the built-up ice.

Ken, the neighbor quite a ways down the block, was out, sprinkling de-ice granules. He said he had taken a flying leap, landing on his tailbone at the bottom of his wooden stairs by the garage. The cement doesn’t help, nor does wearing cowboy boots. “Fashion before practicality!” I cheered.

Paper Mate

Papers, scattered across the tabletop, actually, every flat surface in the house, are taking over. They have been breeding overnight, perhaps the moment I walk out of the room, unkempt, disorganized, scribbled in my illegible “doctor” handwriting. Generating it all onto the laptop is my goal for the week. It is insurmountable and yet, doable, if I sort, create piles of similar subject matter and begin, one mound at a time, to type, then format, edit, create a file folder, save it in the correct spot, where I am able to locate it when I need it (that means I also have to recall the name of the document,) and drop the scraps in the recycle bin.

It is an addiction. Writing on the backs of envelopes, saving torn sheets, even a quarter of a piece of paper, that has a glaring blank spot left, to jot some little tidbit.

Signed-up for a new credit card to pay for the on-line class I intend to plow through in a short eight weeks. It is all very frightening but I vowed to do something scary every day. Not jumping off the top of the snow pile (up to my shoulders now) scary, simply things that have been out of my comfort zone for a very long time.

I realize, from when I was small, I started receiving messages such as “That behavior is inappropriate,” “Nice people don’t say/act that way,” “This is not polite,” “Women/girls don’t do that,” It certainly did not have to be what people around me said, a look, body stance or emotional reaction, sensations that turned friends away, were all stored in the “Don’t” File.

I am taking them out of their wraps, trying them on for size, deeming what freaks me out the most, determining how confident I feel any particular day, choosing one, and doing it.  Sometimes things appear out of thin air, and I know I must absorb that one NOW.  

My Environment class ends in three weeks so there will be a bit of an overlap in my studies. Guess I could skip my “How I Met Your Mother”/”House of Cards”/”Lie to Me”/”Nurse Jackie”/”New Girl” or “Mr. Rogers” episode. Drat.

Battle Ground

February 17, 2014

Studied the flood, hurricane, tsunami, extreme heat, and drought disasters of the planet data for my Energy, the Environment and Our Future course. I recall reading an article about war-soldiers being directed to shoot to maim versus kill, and considered that method, while researching the destruction of nature. The attempt to rescue survivors gives the opposing side another opportunity to take out more soldiers. It appears Mother Nature has a similar tactic. Aside from the natural disaster deaths, numbering millions, the true cost of rebuilding entire cities, developing the infrastructures and recreating systems is immense. Delving into the horrific statistics from the 2012 Rio Summit on Disaster Preventions made me realize just how far I have been from an event like Hurricane Katrina. We are studying the economic effects of these catastrophes to take apart the environmental impact on the planet. There is a direct correlation with the heating up of the planet to an increase in catastrophic occurrences.  What do we aim to do about it? How can we prevent such destruction from occurring? Who will be without bargaining power next? When will another ruinous bomb take place? Where will I be when it happens? Why do folks still turn away from the implications of global warming?

I had no reason to be unhappy.

February 16, 2014

I had no idea I would be out shoveling snow again today.

I had no clue Laura would find out Bella was eating cat poop the last time she was here.

I had no earthly idea I didn’t finish my homework and quiz on Thursday and had to race to catch up…got a 10 out of 10!

I had no chance to do my Blogilates today so I had better get out the yoga mat.

I had no business doing business with an ex-boyfriend who crapped-out on my project.

I had no eggs in the house so I ate cereal with yogurt for breakfast.

I had no time to wash the car but it is supposed to snow again anyway.

I had no plans this morning so I took the dogs for an extra long walk.

I had no training on editing my website so I will have to find help soon.

I had no clean underwear…just kidding.

I had no strange dreams that I can recall.

I had no inkling I would be writing this out in a blog tonight.

I had no friends over today but chose to clean the house.

I had no regrets.

Rich or Stubborn?

Snarky attitudes don’t only come from a wealthy background. I find myself on a high horse when I feel a moral push and occasionally shout when the spirit moves me to do so. A friend suggested his co-worker, who tends to get bossy and high-pitched when she does not get her way, has a holier-than-thou position because she is confident she doesn’t really need the income. Her family has enough to feed and clothe her for decades so she has the wealth shield of protection behind her roar. I disagree since I get disenchanted with a system and blare my discontentment. As an employee, the Dog House is a commonplace spot for me. I have tamed the reactive beast in the past eight years or so, yet hardly accept the fact that a disingenuous boss/company/system immoral directive be swallowed without complaint.

So, what is it that gives us the guts to defy an order, to stand up to someone or something when we vehemently disagree?

The Snack Pusher

“Don’t do drugs,” I holler at her as she rounds the corner from airport security to the gate, waving goodbye and blowing me kisses. Glad I pushed umpteen bags of snacks into my child’s luggage before she left the country.

She made it to Izmir! Several delayed flights and one missed connection, a long hike from the airport to the Metro Station and a bit of confusion about which station to hop off to catch another route further south. More walking ensued, with too many bags, a plea for assistance with the Security Guard, who does speak English, at the Main Entrance to Yasar University. He eventually tracked down a gent (after about 100 phone calls) to help Taelor get the keycard and escort her to her room, even chivalrously assisting with her bags. The dorms are like a “fancy, fancy hotel” and she has the room to herself, for the time being.

I was concerned my young lady would be nervous yet she assured me, she was certain it would all work out in the end, felt relaxed and even happy. I was relieved to communicate with my Valentine, through Facebook this afternoon, and know she is finally in her new spot.

Now I can relax, eat my box of dark chocolates and watch a movie. Ain’t Valentine’s Day grand?

Flight Path

February 13, 2014

Random packing is a problematic method. Tossing things into the suitcases willy nilly creates chaos and confusion upon arrival, especially when determining what one will need for a five month excursion. Fifty pounds doesn’t amount to a lot of weight when taking into account hefty school supplies, liquid skin care products, standard gifts, variety of fashionable shoes, and necessary creative accessories. Not to mention the heartfelt anxious sentiments that take up excess space.

Air Canada flight was delayed coming in so the departure time was pushed half an hour later. Connection in Toronto Airport, with a stopover at Customs, appears to be very tight. Numerous texts flew back and forth, sending compassionate messages regarding the not-so-laughable situation. “Communicate the concerns to the flight attendant and know this is all a part of the adventure to Izmir, Turkey,” I jot to her.

In less than 24 hours, she should be in the dorm room with the three flights, two metro stops, a direct path to the security guard at the Main Gate on Yasar (sounds like Yashar) University Campus, a phone call to the contact person, to direct her to her space and settle-in, behind her.

With tax returns, FAFSA application glaring on her To Do List, she has much to accomplish in the next few days, prior to orientation starting on Monday. Let the brisk wind be at her back.

A Day of Vigor

February 12, 2014

Victory, vamp, vivacious, vivid, vibrant, vacillate, very, vengeance, vigorous, comes to mind long before Valentine’s peers ‘round the corner. Red jumps out to scowl at me from every angle, once I leave the premises. My recollection of a wonderful “V” Day goes way back to sixth grade when a classmate sent a torn red heart cut-out that had “Pala is my Valentine” in squabble letters.

Mrs. “B” told me her great grandson, a nine year old, asked his mother if they could stop by the store on the way to school to get a dozen roses, one for each girl in the class. He thought they deserved more than just a homemade valentine. When his mom told him just how much that effort would cost him, he choked and decided he might be able to do that for the girls next year.

I recall the struggle to get Taelor to keep cutting the jagged hearts, until she had enough for all of the kids. There were many years when she started picking and choosing who would merit a valentine…”No, not him!!” Many lessons on compassion and goodwill came from this particular holiday.

Crunchy Takes the Lead

February 11, 2014

I spotted a jar on the sidewalk in the dark of night. Knowing me as you do, I surely picked it up to toss it into the sack I carry along for garbage and recycling discovered on my treks ‘round the neighborhood. Turns out, it is an intact jar of Jif, extra crunchy. Who says life on the West Side is boring and non-productive.

A client posted a slandering comment about me, my businesses and character. Every time I saw the post or even thought about it, I felt devastated and uncertain, unhappy and clammy. Not certain why one ugly statement about me, my services and where I put myself out in the world could take me down to the small nub of skin at the end of my nail. Yet it does. The one raw point, like a fallen tooth and the tongue pokes through a gaping hole, as a reminder that something is amiss.

Checked the site to be sure my rebuttal is posted today and low and behold, several others left gracious and admiring comments about me, my work, contribution and savvy. Brought crestfallen tears to console my spirit. The world is a better place with my team, homies, peeps, sisters, and clan members. It can be a cold world yet the moment I step out and share versus withdraw and hunker, I am reminded that the village we live in is powerful, hungry for giving, being one and at cause, in action for change.

Turkish Airlines representative sent me to the Transportation Agent for Istanbul’s Airport since she could not help me find what I need. The male service worker was not very friendly nor open to stepping outside of his box to assist me with information regarding the Izmir metro or airport services. I found a resource, after much searching (thank goodness for Google,) and created a strategic map for Taelor to circumnavigate the rail system and gleaned specific stations for departure and arrival. I hope this provides the confidence she needs to get on the plane in a few days and land in Turkey with a lovely smile and a lotta luggage.

Winning Worms

February 10, 2014

A friend just murmured “Happy Valentine’s week!” and I decide to treat myself to breakfast out (not outdoors, in a restaurant) tomorrow. It has been a long time coming. I will order all of the sides whose pictures appeal to me, drink gallons of caffeinated coffee, and have red devil chocolate cake for dessert, no matter the time of day.

I welcome and honor stressful situations. Power and courage appears when I am stepping into anxiety or angst. How can I know just what I have to offer if I stick to the same old patterns, my identical way of being in the world? Can you grow without the sticky places in life. Is it probable that I understand my limits, boundaries and uncover skills and talents without pushing aside the barriers. I doubt it.

The Farmers Market planning meeting is always a pin prick scene for me. I constantly tear down the reinforcements, put up screening and temporary plastic sheeting, poking the ways of doing business, and calling people (including myself) on their smallness. I believe sustainability has to come from a strategic idea, with a budget and plan, not just some floating iridescent figure appearing and scaring the heck out of everyone somewhere in the distant future. Not certain if I will continue hawking maple syrup, perhaps I will raise red worms, the humus they produce or steep tea from their excrement. Since I will be out of the country for three solid best-selling weeks, I may have to consider the reliability of the sales crew at the community table. Difficult for me to hand over the reins to just anyone.

Well Well

February 9, 2014

Where in my life do I have one foot on the gas and the other on the brake. It appears my philosophy is to gas, gas, gas and then brake, gas, turn and brake, make a U turn and California stop at the light and veer right. Once I make a decision, I usually never go back. If I am headed down a path and run into a road block, I become desperate to find a way through versus turning around and going back the way I came. Biking down the coast from Astoria to San Luis Obispo quite a number of years ago is case in point. During the summer, a season of road construction, I despised having to turn around, head back up hills, due to a dead end in the pavement.

Heading to the Black Sand Beach in Brasil, my daughter, boyfriend, and his son were following a path that had been washed-out by a flood. I was convinced we could push through the tall grass and come out safely on the other side. I dropped four feet into a massive hole while the rest of the crew stood peering down at me from the ledge and laughed at my silliness. It took me a good while to tramp down the greenery, climb out of the hole and proceed to the shore. We had to turn around, which broke my heart and pride.

Taelor told that story often and with relish. So much so, she believed she was the one who fell a body length into the deep well.

Celebration of Life Together

February 8, 2014

Coke, grass, chips and chocolate make for a successful party, the first two catch your attention, the latter two make it sound completely boring. The cat climbs into laps that don’t belong to him.

One of the guests put the fuzzy Vera Wang slippers on the wrong feet. She gloms the pair from the variety, in a basket, near the door, and obviously isn’t paying attention in her excitement. Upon discovery, she covers her mistake well by sharing a story from when her daughter was little. As her mother pointed out the same predicament, the four year old pipes up “These are not on the wrong feet, mom, they’re my feet!” Who could argue with that?

For those of you who were unable to attend the function, we spoke of allowing our grown children to fall down and make mistakes, after much consoling,  arguing, Judge-Judy-advice-giving, and hand wringing. We decided the best way to come up with a co-op purchase is at a bar, on a napkin. Having it readily available, not to mention legible, at the first sign of a bump-in-the-road-conflict is another story. The group collectively agreed that a cat cannot be shared between three parties, no matter how much they would like to think an animal is like a shirt, it is certainly not one-in-the-same. Needing drama in our lives sometimes lights a fire, and excites the crowd. In the end, we choose not to pile in the car, and rescue the cat from a certain compromising demise.

Since there is no universal signal for gratitude, I am fortunate to be able to use my words. Thank you to my good friends, all of you for coming to my home and celebrating the warmth of camaraderie.

VISA Victory

February 7, 2014

     Her utter joy is audible through the phone lines. The long-awaited official Turkish VISA arrives, intact in the much anticipated Express Mail envelope. One small hiccup made us nervous that the document would not arrive in time for the Flight to Toronto, Istanbul and Izmir on Thursday. It is a weird and wonderful system of permission to travel around the planet. Cash, documents to prove citizenship, official papers verifying sufficient savings, credible signatures from authorizing institutions and an agreement to arrive and leave on designated dates. It appears to be a game that rivals Monopoly.

     As any other great undertaking, this one instigates foreboding and dizzy excitement. Sleepless nights twirl the busy mind into the unknown cave of adventure. Pinpointing the cause of nervousness is a feat. How will I be accepted at the University, what are my two roommates like, will we get along, can I be happy, safe, effective, secure, do I have enough money, can I get around easily, will I be healthy and wise? Breakthroughs happen in breakdowns and challenges. Confidence and taking a Wonder Woman stance is most helpful to conquer all.

     One VISA down, seventeen thousand tests to go!

Death Agreement

February 6, 2014

Imagine having to sign a lease agreement, determining when you will be dying? Mrs. “B”chose an eight month contract, last year, she outlived her nine month signature. She must give a two month notice to vacate and create a list of people who can come and go in her apartment, from that date on. It isn’t enough to decide what precious cargo to leave to whom.

Unbeknownst to me, the doodads I moved around on top of the bureau made it impossible for Mrs. “B” to access the stations on her radio with the remote. The ribs were just undercooked enough that the meat didn’t pull easily away from the bone. The meals I prepared and stored on the top shelf of the frig were too far over to the left for said client to place her water jug to cool. I was “written-up,” once again.  

I have to laugh and complete my pilates, walk daily and eat a lot of chocolate or “someone” would be left, tied to her lift chair with gauze and medical tape across her mouth. Watching “Nurse Jackie’s” wrath gives me plenty of ideas for revenge. The only problem is- the simple fact that I am the solo caregiver, aside from the family. Cops would show up at my house, knowing I am the only suspect, haul me away, and throw away the key. I assume a friend would be willing to bring me a cake with a hidden knife. I would do the same for you. That’s what friends are for.

Rest Haven

February 4, 2014

The SafeZone is a service for homeless youth. They have medical clinics, GED programs, find and subsidize housing for six months, job assistance, shelters, clothes closet, case management, food shelf, meals, walk-in counseling, shower/laundry service, computer lab, resource room, independent living skills, sexual health education and street outreach. I pitched the agency to hold a series of courses for young women in their system. My topics include but are not limited to:

Heartfelt Living
Humble Forgiveness
Opportunistic Vulnerability
Creating Right Livelihood
Underemployed Power
Spiritual and Financial Prosperity
Transitional Relationship Success
Creative Calm
Loving Altruism
Enlightening Eating for a Healthy Body
Loving Kindness
Truthful Compassion
The Journey for Best Place to Land
Open Vulnerability
Splendid Acceptance

This simply means that I will not be able to go out and play very much in the next…oh, say, ten months, but I promise to keep the noise down to a dull roar and drink responsibly from the couch, with the laptop glaring in front of me.  If only I knew someone with a little hut on the beach in some tropical island or a remote cabin at the base of a mountain, to hide away, hammer out the details of my curriculum. Wringing material out of my noggin is not always a simple task. Lots of snacks in small bowls within arms reach are helpful.

Stand corrected

Hello!

Thanks to one of my PEEPS, I stand corrected on my misinformed statement regarding an "increase in domestic violence calls during Super Bowl Sunday." I was under the impression, the uniformed cop on the Big Island of Hawaii, was correct in his assessment of said issue when he barked the stats from under his Ken hairdo. I did not check with snopes.com before posting, and should have. Many untrue rumors have been spread this way. My apologies to those of you who were shocked and appalled.

I cannot promise to check with snopes.com at every turn...or my Blog will be definitively more boring. On the upside, at least I know one person is reading it.

My toes are numb. Although we are much above the zero mark outdoors today, I have several layers on inside the house. Sweating and shivering never suits me. Doubt I have the flu, just have to bite the bullet and turn the heat up. Most of the time, I feel as though I am only increasing the air temperature to the floor above my head, since I can only feel a difference if I sit or stand near the radiator. The utility bill increases and I only get warmer when said bill shows up in my mailbox. Heat rises and my head is much warmer on that particular day of the month.

My new Sorted Affairs brochures appeared in the mail last week. The mailman always avoids me since I jump for joy every time I get a package. He lunges away simultaneously tossing the item, seemingly to dodge human contact. I am told I give good hugs but he doesn't know that. Perhaps I should send him to snopes.com.

Go Seahawks!

February 2, 2014

Eating my nose-is-running hot tomales from the El Burrito market down the street. Wow! Contemplating what I want for snacks for the Super Bowl later today. Hm. Nachos, pretzels, popcorn, stuffed baked potato, cheetos, beer, wasabe trail mix, chocolate, tea, pizza or egg rolls. Triple hm.

Thanksgiving is the only day of the year that beats out the high caloric intake during the Super Bowl. What about watching the finale of the football season makes people crazy for junk food? It is also the highest domestic violence activity day of the year. Is there a connection? I just feel flat out lazy and lumpy when I watch the game, hollering and jumping up and down on occasion takes up all of my excess energy. I couldn’t hurt a flea today. My arms are sore from keeping them above my head for hours, okay minutes on end. Seattle Seahawks are playing. Suppose I should root for them since I have never lived in Colorado, just passed through the airports and spent a bit of time in Boulder and Denver on business, Colorado Springs to visit friends and skiing at a number of the resorts for a week or two. No long-term relationship category means they don’t deserve my cheers.

Soul Savers

February 1, 2014

My shoes say I am not one to stick to the path. They eagerly plunge into the pebbly mud, fresh snow, where things are unclean and messy. My dog adores my shoes. He knows it is time to take a walk as I carry the pair across the room to sit in the chair, to pull them on my feet. We all stroll the familiar streets at a rapid pace, especially when the temps drop below zero, and the wind whips back and forth across the wide space. My shoes, sensible and sturdy, supportive, and at times, unpredictable, march through life with determination and obstinacy.  Though not appearing weak or timid, they cover-up the uncertainty in rough terrain or slick surfaces. Courageous and consistent, my shoes do not waver. Sizable and typically one shade of brown or another, they last a good long time since there are so many of the pairs. Who doesn’t love a closet full of shoes?