TWITTER
SUBSCRIBE
Link to Me
Drinks on Me! Award
You Said It! Award
-
Custom Blog Design
Anne Taintor
Causes
-
I’m So Mediocre
Change
It’s on my heart this morning to share this with you.
I’m thirty-frickin’-eight years old and possess the maturity level of a child at times.
I am so ashamed to once again be facing the same old bondage that has always held me. You would think I’d have learned by now, but in reality my past efforts to resolve this have amounted to little more than band-aids on a wound that just won’t heal.
This season I am in absolutely took me off guard. I didn’t for the life of me see it coming and it has completely knocked me off kilter.
It is true: Denial always ends up in crisis. Ouch.
Worry not. I’m a mess but I’m okay. Well, will be okay. This is good. It’s painful, but good.
Why are we so conditioned to think of pain as bad…. to avoid it at all costs? Avoidance and denial keeps us from facing the real issues, ever worsening the cause and therefore the festering pain.
Verily I say unto thee:
Pain is good. It tells us something is wrong and motivates us to make healthy change.
As Dave Ramsey put it, “We change only with the pain of same is greater than the pain of change.”
(waving hands wildly) I’ve had enough “pain of same”, so bring on the change. Gently, please.
Anatole France summed it up nicely, and I love this:
“If we don’t change, we don’t grow. If we don’t grow, we aren’t really living.”
Amen. And amen.
My favorite pastor challenged us in a way I will never forget. He said if there are “don’t go there” issues in your life or relationships, GO THERE. Truth is certainly one of the most scary and painful things to face, but in my opinion, not nearly so much as living in fear of it.
No more band-aids, y’all. It’s time to open the wound, irrigate it with Love, dress it in God’s Truth and allow it to heal from the inside out. The scar will always be there but scars aren’t painful. In fact, I want to bear life-giving scars like the beautiful scars that mark my Jesus’ head, back, hands, side and feet.
In this, I’ve discovered a Great Reverse. Truth is ugly, yes – but sometimes your truth isn’t Truth at all. It’s truth in the sense that it happened, but what I have come to believe about myself because those things happened are nothing more than lies. Lies have shaped me.
Gah, lies still shape me. Change is a process, often slow, but thank God He has me on the road to growth. Even though I have known Christ as my Savior for a very long time, I am developing a new and very personal understanding of Him. This is what He meant for us. Not just salvation, but LIFE. He is faithfully beginning to restore what I’ve lost and is leading me in the full life Jesus promised me. I want that!!! I want the freedom that comes in living out God’s Word, from trusting Him, speaking the truth in love, asking Him for wisdom and above all seeking Him first.
Dear reader, this is heavy stuff, not the norm for my blog. Levity is a rare commodity these days, but what I do have is Truth. In spades.
So, I choose to press on, painful though it may be, knowing and thanking God in advance that I WILL come out the other side whole and free.
It Wasn’t A Compliment At All
I’m short on time. I have a new niece to visit in Minnesota tomorrow (squeal!!!), so today is a bit of a scramble. But I’m energized to post, so here I am. I think it’s the combination of excitement of getting away meeting my new niece and a stunning day, weather-wise here in the ATL. This is Heaven’s forecast. Pretty sure that’s scriptural y’all.
Anyway.
Have you ever done something brilliant that you then for the life of you could. not. replicate??
Such has been the case with my hair this week. Precipitated more by necessity than intent, I let my hair dry a little wavy and scrunched it up with gel and hairspray last Friday. The effect was amazing.
I’m serious as a heart attack on this. Can you say your own hair was ever amazing?
For the one day it lasted, it was magical. For the first time ever, I had body. And I loved the layers I never asked for from my scissor-happy stylist.
Naturally, I tried it again. I was no match for the lure of no more blow, velcro roll, straighten, rat, smooth, spray fight. All this time, I’ve been fightin’ God and what He gave me folicularly. (Is that a word?) So, I turned from my wicked ways and sought forgiveness.
Ever since though?
Frizz.
Last night, Spin finally said something. He said, “Soliloquy, your hair looks…… good. (pause) You know, in a White Snake kind of way.”
Basking in the glow of what I thought was a compliment, I thanked him.
Wait.
White Snake?
As in White Snake, the 80’s band?!
I’m not going to say Spin was wrong….. but……… wow.
I mean, take me to bed or lose me forever, right?
Gah.
So I’m back to the fight. I would consider a different hairstyle altogether, but it has been stated in no uncertain terms that my hair must remain long.
Spin has been very clear.
Funny. The things I’m clear on aren’t mutually regarded. Do you know, it’s Fall, and I cannot take a nap now until Thanksgiving, for fear I’ll wake up and the Christmas tree will be up. It’s no joke.
I’ve got an ace in the pocket for this weekend while I’m gone, though.
If when I get here there’s a tree in my family room, I’ll just go get a perm haircut.
Nice little insurance policy, wund’tyasay?
Pole Dancing
I may not be fully “here” right now, but the funny still is. Thanks, Lanxi!
(By the way, please don’t give up on me yet. I’m working hard to get myself back here, dear reader. I just need a little more time. Thanks for understanding. )
There Must Be A Pony In Here Somewhere
From the title, some of you will know right away of what I speak.
For others, this little story will make it clear:
Parents of twin six year olds were worried that the boys had developed extreme personalities — one was a total pessimist, the other a total optimist — their parents took them to a psychiatrist.
First the psychiatrist treated the pessimist. Trying to brighten his outlook, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with brand-new toys. But instead of yelping with delight, the little boy burst into tears. “What’s the matter?” the psychiatrist asked, baffled. “Don’t you want to play with any of the toys?” “Yes,” the little boy bawled, “but if I did I’d only break them.”
Next the psychiatrist treated the optimist. Trying to dampen his out look, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with horse manure. But instead of wrinkling his nose in disgust, the optimist emitted just the yelp of delight the psychiatrist had been hoping to hear from his brother, the pessimist. Then he clambered to the top of the pile, dropped to his knees, and began gleefully digging out scoop after scoop with his bare hands. “What do you think you’re doing?” the psychiatrist asked, just as baffled by the optimist as he had been by the pessimist. “With all this manure,” the little boy replied, beaming, “there must be a pony in here somewhere!”
By nature, I’m more like the child who would be inclined to cry in a room full of shiny new toys. Let’s just put that out there right now.
I’ve got it good. I know it. And I’m not ungrateful.
But when you’re used to new toys, and are suddenly faced with what feels like a lot of the same ahem, manure, all at once, ya’ gotta’ wonder where the pony lesson is.
‘Sort Of’ Single
My Stink.
That man-child is somethin’ else.
Look what I pulled off his phone this morning.
——
MK (Mary-Katherine): who do u like?
Stink: i’m sort of single right now
MK: what do u mean sort of?
Stink: i’m single and it sort of SUCKS!!!
—–
He’s TEN!!!!! What am I going to do with him when he’s a teenager?!
I Need a Flame Retardant Turtleneck
I’ve got what feels like a million people breathing heat down my neck about something.
“So, now that the kids are in school, what are you going to do with all your time?”
“What Bible study are you going to lead? When? Where?”
“Are you going to get a job?”
“Call me, we’ll do lunch.”
“When are you going to start blogging again?”
“Why aren’t you calling me?” (Not referring to you, Vanity. Honest.)
“This is the third time I’ve tried to call you in a day in a half. I know you’re not returning my call, so what are you doing?”
Leave me the hail alone already!
I’m staring at a wall, alright?
And I’m content.
(Even as I sit here typing, I just sent another call from my mother into voicemail.)
Enough already.
Do I have to be “busy” for my time to count? Because I’m on tellya’ now….. I ain’t in no hurry to fill up my new found free time with “busy”ness.
The truth is, I’m feeling a little ….. confused. Like I’m not the same person. For the first time in eight years, I’m not home schooling. For the first time in fourteen years, my kids are gone for the day. This is a monumental change.
I cried all last week.
This week, I just feel numb. Like I don’t know exactly what I want to do with myself – although I seem to know exactly what I don’t want to do with myself.
I didn’t shower for two days this week because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to work out or if I felt like I should work out, knowing once I showered, I wouldn’t have the option anymore.
Can I please just revel for a little bit in not having any expectations for my time? I mean, I know it can’t be a long term reality. But just for a few days? Can I just have some time and space for self-reflection? Time with the Lord? Maybe a nap? Or getting lost in a book? (You know – the old fashioned things with words on pages of paper bound in a cover?)
I’m sorry that it looks so much like unproductivity.
I’m sure I’ll get over it.
Um.. Hi?…. Hello?…. Is This Thing On??
Is anyone even still here?? (I don’t deserve for anyone to still be here.)
It feels presumptuous of me to expect any sort of response.
SiteMeter doesn’t lie, y’all.
I guess I’ll go ahead and have a conversation with me, myself and Irene…..
“Why, Soliloquy, there’s been a shocking absence in the blogosphere for the last few weeks. Where have you been, darling?” (I’m talking to myself y’all. I can say what I want.)
“What a dear you are for noticing! You know, I vacated my life for an extended week and decided to go live it instead of write about it for a change. It was a delightful change of pace.”
“Well, on behalf of the entire internet, we really are so delighted to have you back. It just hasn’t been the same without you.”
(snort)
Sounds more like a vacation from reality, right??
I am glad to report that I was not at BlogHer. My sources tell me it was a disastrous disappointment. I have documentation even…. but let’s not go there…. we don’t want to upset anyone’s sponsors.
Gah, I’m glad I wasn’t at BlogHer.
Instead, I was gladly in SoCal – San Diego and Catalina Island to be exact, for nine glorious days.
It was loverly.
The change in climate made Atlanta feel like the Middle East. I did not miss the humidity here. I have a new appreciation for the term “dirty south”…. 10 minutes outside has you itching for a change of panties in these parts.
Eeew.
California is really something special. We made some great memories at Coronado beach, the zoo, Catalina Island, a Padres game, Vanity and Chopper’s place…. and a day with this dear reader.
Actually, she’s less of a reader than she is a bff after seeing her three times in the last 9 months. Although by the number of comments she leaves here, you’d wonder….
Marcy finagled an overnight stay at our hotel in exchange for a blog review just to be with me.
This is the only photo I got of her!! Dang it all, we didn’t get one of us together! Isn’t that just how it goes? I rarely end up in front of the camera…
Fortunately, we got a few of our kids, who hit it off famously. As for her husband, we’re still trying to determine if he actually exists….I personally think she made him up as an excuse not to get a matching key tattoo.
So, yeah. California…. what a ride. There’s really so much to tell, it feels almost too overwhelming to try to rechannel. There were many times I wished I’d brought my laptop…. so many lost posts, like the meat-head single dad or the loudmouth Italian mafia-wanna-be family from Catalina…. (My apologies to meat-heads and mafia family wannabe’s. I’m sure with enough alcohol, I’d find you delightful.) I guess that’s the point of vacation. I certainly vacated my every day life for 9 days – which happened to include blogging.
The end of vacation also means the end of…. summer. (gulp)
It’s been a nutty week of eye, ortho and dental exams and uniform and school supply shopping. Hair cuts are next week…..
…. and then they’re off.
I’m beginning to feel a little emotional about it, actually.
I’ve been brainwashed under the loose belief that because I was sacrificing so much to home school, it was the best way to educate children.
That’s a lie.
But still, I think that after eight years of having such a huge responsibility, I’m going to feel perhaps a wee bit….. lazy? Now don’t get all upset…. I’m not calling anyone who doesn’t home school lazy.
I told you I know it’s a lie.
But it will be an adjustment…. just today someone asked me if I’m going to go back to work.
Yeah no.
Hail no.
But what in the world am I going to do with myself?
It’s Never Not Scary
My “glass is completely full” morning was more like half empty.
Spree had another seizure .
I don’t care who you are, watching a seizure is upsetting. While you know in your head that everything will be alright, there’s a fear that lurks in the back of your racing mind that they won’t come out of it…. or at least won’t come out of it without permanent damage.
What was better this time around was the aftermath. I knew what to do, and Spree bounced back quickly. I was more calm. The last time she had a seizure, I happened to have a doctor’s appt. that morning and my blood pressure was through the roof. I had to explain the huge adrenaline rush from an hour earlier…..
While I’m not glad it happened, if it had to I’m glad it happened this week. I wasn’t here last week and won’t be next week either.
Just yesterday morning, someone was telling me about how they had recently had their first seizure.
It was a person.
How many talking dogs do you know?
She’d had an early morning, no breakfast and a flight. She was told the combination of lack of sleep, low blood sugar, change in barometric pressure from her flight and some anxiety probably just created enough of a seizure inducing “cocktail” in her system.
We had storms last night that kept Spree up. She’s terrified of thunder. So this morning the culmination of anxiety, loss of sleep, an empty tummy and the storm’s affect on the barometric pressure…. well, I guess she had her own puppy seizure inducing “cocktail”.
Even though she seems fine, I’ve decided to take her to the vet anyway. I think she needs something from the valium family during storms and while we’re at it, right before the groomer shows up, and hm…. perhaps when we leave on trips.
My dog is a mental case.
Does anyone have experience with a dog who either has seizures or is on psychiatric drugs?
Don’t Call Me. I’ll Call You.
The stars have aligned and we are a childless household.
Well, at least for the night.
Dnoces of Ursae Majoris is in an uncooperative snit so we’re left with the damned dogs, but the glass is half full, y’all.
Half. Full.
And tomorrow morning?? after Spin leaves at an ungodly hour for New York, the glass will be COMPLETELY FULL unless said damned dogs wake me up.
Just sayin’.
I must be livin’ right.
Summer is Over Already
It’s only July 10th, I know, but for all intents and purposes, summer is over. The lazy stretched out weeks of summer…. gone.
Sadly, I’ve got nothing to show for it. Not even a decent tan.
Our trip home was a gong show. Thankfully, the weather was glorious. It’s so nice to step outside and be able to draw in a full breath of cool, crisp air, even in the dead of the afternoon, but it’s funny to me that I can feel cold in 75 degree weather.
Gah, I hate the heat and humidity in Atlanta.
By the last night of our trip, three glasses of wine wasn’t enough…. I had to get a peanut butter cup Blizzard to finish off the monumental task of managing the stress.
It’s not that my family is horrible to be around, but in large quantities (of time, people or in this case, both), the chaos is more than I can take. Individually, everyone is rather delightful. Altogether together though, I quickly inch up on certifiable.
Clearly, the problem lies with me. Call me crotchity, but I find that I require a certain amount of quiet to maintain my sanity.
There’s no such thing as quiet in my family.
We’re klassy on a golf course. I’m pretty sure golf course etiquette doesn’t allow for streaking, as in the nude, run through the course sprinkler kind – or the public relieving of one’s self, as in the independent potty training kind. (Ever seen anyone strip and squat right next to a golf cart?)
I guess with my family 7 golfers, 7 riders and 4 carts, there’s bound to be some form of public indecency. We’re just thankful it was cute.
I DID manage to sneak away and hook up with Sarah from the Mommylogues. I wish it could have been for longer, but everyone out on the lake at the same time can’t last forever. Although I’m certain she won’t say the same about my cabin hair and attire me, she’s darling. I’m just so thrilled that I got up to the lake just before she moves to another state in two weeks!
I also learned that I can never have an affair, which is a good thing to know about yourself before considering it. Heh.
I’m just not good at sneaking around.
Or lying.
I do so appreciate your collective mockery concern, but whether the baby monitor was on or off didn’t matter this trip. There was nothing to be heard. The cabin is 400 square feet plus a loft/ bathroom over a 3-car detached garage. Did I mention there were 14 of us?
Unless you get the back bedroom in the loft that has a door, there’s really no chance of any privacy.
Heck, even with a door last year, there was clearly no privacy.
Moving on.
We’re home. I put Nina on a bus to camp this morning until Tuesday. We leave a week from today for San Diego, and the kids start school two weeks after we get home from CA.
See? Summer really is over.
Maybe once the kids are in school, I’ll get something done.