How often does one have all three kids and all three grandkids in the same room at the same time? Or, in this case: all three grandkids and all three greadgrandchildren. What generation is missing? The babyboomers.
I Love My Kids
What a threesome. I love my kids
Anger
When does anger go away? When one’s needs are met.
Trouble is; one often spends one’s life expecting someone else to meet one’s need. In actual fact; I am the only one who can meet my needs. So it follows that my anger goes away when I learn to meet my own needs; take responsibility for my own happiness; take care of myself well rather than second guessing the needs of others and then waiting for someone else to notice and meet my needs, reinforce or reassure. I speak of adults, of course. Children have age appropriate needs. I am no longer a child. I am an adult. How about you?
A Walk
There is nothing quite like a walk; a walk in the park, a walk in an open space, a walk in the mountains. I know of no other activity open to a married woman living single that provides such relaxation, rejuvenation, satisfaction and fulfillment; mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually; as a good long walk in coolness and sunshine.
Oh, there are other things that come close: A good read or polished symphony concert (but where is the physical rejuvenation?). Oh yes, perhaps musical performance? That, too, stretches one: mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually—but it is much more directed, mentally and spiritually, than a walk. A walk is very freeing and enlightening
Serenity
Whew! For some reason I am feeling relaxed, clear-headed, and centered again. Over the past several weeks I felt rather sad and prone to the slough of despond. My novel writing slowed to a crawl due to 1) teenagers in the house and on the computer; 2) finishing of the first draft of the novel and the drudgery of searching for an agent or publisher; 3) the general business of life and work; and, 4) the heat-don’t forget the heat. It is so hot here in the summer that I have to schedule my daily walk early in the morning or late at night. This upsets my writing and inspiration schedule. During the spring months I was in the habit of rising early, going straight to the computer, writing until I hit neck or wrist cramp or couldn’t turn the phrase the way I wanted it. Then I would go shower; return to the computer feeling inspired, usually with a wet-head and day clothes. The next time I needed a break I donned walking shoes to tread the neighborhood for an hour and returned to write for an additional two hours. When P got home from school each afternoon we ate a quick supper, pulled on our serving clothes and walked across the street to work a paid job. In May everything changed: the job, the two students at home in the morning, the heat that hampered the walks, schedule demands and pressures.
A is back at college now and P is at the high school. This makes little difference as I am now working weekdays. I miss my kids, I love my current job, but, both my writing and my psyche have suffered. This week I found a better solution. My writing group now meets only once a month, freeing up three out of four Mondays. Sweet Adelines meets once a week, so Tuesday is my music and girls night. I deleted my Wednesday night meeting, to devote that time to writing and individual spiritual renewal, I find time to walk Thursday through Sunday. The heat of summer has abated a tiny little bit. You know what? I am feeling a lot healthier mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically -Especially when I get enough sleep. Goodnight.
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My Dancing Day
It is a dancing day! At 7:00 A.M. this morning (Thursday, August 7) it was both sunny and cool (from last night’s rain). A perfect day for walking – and dancing through a meadow with delight.
The Dames D’Plume
Admittedly, we are a rather eccentric, individualist group. Given that we all write fiction; that A writes Steam Punk and Heather is most modern in her themes, but loves the Renaissance; when you consider that Carrington is young and fun loving; and I am old and staid; is it any wonder that our meetings gravitate toward characters and themes in an attempt to spur each other on toward greater creativity, inspiration and encouragement? If you think us a bit weird; you haven’t seen anything yet. Buy our books and be transported into other worlds.
Exponential Music
When I removed, temporarily, to the high desert last January; I was not quite clear of the duration of my stay here, but it was clear to me that I wanted to spend plenty of time writing, enjoying my grandkids, and doing as much music as possible. I took a job working as a server across the street in order to stave off starvation and feed my car, but, it was not a job as a singing waiter, so I endeavored to connect myself with extracurricular music. I joined the Symphony Guild and went to a couple of concerts; sang with the local Messiah Choral Society, and visited and joined Sweet Adelines; thus committing to long rehearsals and learning a ton of new music. Then miraculously, I was offered a full time job teaching Core Knowledge music. Umm. Do you think I have enough music in my life?
I go to sleep with my brain swimming in baritone harmony to a number of barbershop / swing tunes. I spend my days convincing eighth graders there is no business like show business; and fourth graders that my grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf. Third graders are sure now, that nobody is home, but that they will soon be able to keep on track and sing a tune while Ms. Teacher sings a round. All in due time. Seventh graders are amazed to learn that Ms. Teacher knows a tune – and the words- to the poem about a capital ship named Walloping Window Blind; which they learned last spring in sixth grade. Second grade has already begun the move west by workin’ on the railroad. First grade is primed for this year’s world series by step, clap, clapping, in ¾ time while they beg, “take me out to the ballgame.” Fifth grade exhibits fine reading skills by mastering ALL the vocabulary to FIVE verses of Battle Hymn of the Republic and sixth grade, well, sixth graders have learned to communicate precisely how they feel about the early start of a new school year by singing Hallelujah or humming me a funeral march. School has been in session four days. Do you think I am getting enough music in my life? Do you think we will be a singing school? You bet!
No Plan B; or the burden of poverty
Sorry to disappoint if you thought this post was a harangue about “the morning after” birth control plan. I am not going to mention that except to say: plan “B” birth control got its name from the original “Plan B”; the thing one does when plan “A” does not work out, or is less successful than anticipated.
In life, Plan “B” (and sometimes even plan “C” and “D” and on through to “Z”) are integral tools in the arsenal of the “can do” person. The “up and take another,” the “don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” or “let’s make some lemonade “philosophy.
Having a plan “B” and a plan “C” is part of thinking things through ahead of time; a part of comprehending that life’s situations are made up of relationships and people; and that because we can’t control people; there are a number of routes a situation can take. It is good to be prepared.
The existence of a plan “B” or plan “C” enables one to take healthy risks in business or other ventures. Plan “B” as a safety net enables confident learning. One is free to fly high and wild and soar to unexpected heights when one has a trustworthy safety net. One is free, as a child or neophyte, to learn a better plan B via mistakes and failures; without committing suicide or winding up in hell because the first experiment failed.
Acapulco, Mazatlàn, Puerto Vallarta; who cares. Somewhere back in time, I knew a couple who traveled to one of these picturesque destinations to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary. Upon arrival, they found the weather dismal with a constant drizzle. No problem, they immediately commenced plan “B” and hopped a few hundred miles to an alternate beach and cheerful sun. They were able to switch course “on a dime” because they had a few dimes to spare and with ease could alter travel and lodging arrangements.
Decades ago, I was a Tupperware Lady. One day as I was packing up my wares after a late morning coffee showing, I witnessed the essence of housewifely plan “B” in action. The man of the house was expected home for lunch. The woman was preparing grilled cheese sandwiches. With all the distractions, the sandwiches burned just before he walked in the door. Pulling out a can of tuna and a fresh loaf of bread, the woman never missed a beat; lunch was on the table with only 4 minutes delay.
The huge burden of poverty as I know it; the unrelenting stress; is that there is absolutely no room for error. Cheese and 8 slices of bread is all the pantry holds. Plan “A” must work or the world comes to an end; and the celebration is spoiled. A little bit of breathing room, a savings account, a modicum of emotional wealth; however, and one can self-alter the aim as the target moves. Who cares if it is plan A or Q or Z, as long as we are going with the flow; adjusting the destination as necessary.
I Sing, You Sing, We all Sing
I sing: with Sweet Adelines, in the shower, at funerals and parties, with the Messiah Choral Society each Easter, when I’m out walking, in weekend worship with a thousand other voices. P sings: with a rock band, at his computer studio, whenever the spirit moves him, and he used to sing with Colorado Children’s Chorale (when he was still a child) A sings: with a rock band, when she is writing songs with folk guitar. K sings: with many rock bands, when he is writing songs, when he is communicating with friends and family. My DIL sings: sometimes anonymously for ad jingles, sometimes backup on K’s recordings. And; all the grandchildren sing; even 11 month old Selah who cheerfully belted out “Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya (Offspring)“ in imitation of the vocalization she had just heard Philip produce. We all sing! Shortly, it will be time for me to return to the classroom, and yes, there we will all sing, every day as we learn through music. I sing, you sing, we all sing; isn’t that a wonderful thing?