"What Fresh Hell is THIS?"

Well,now what?

We're all aware that being in church makes you no more a christian than being in a garage makes you a car.

If you're gonna talk the talk, you'd better walk the walk.

No, this is not your concious speaking, it's mine.
And it's nagging me, constantly.

Because I'm not doing enough.I've got to figure out what I want to do, personally,hands on, rather than donating. I'm involved (& enamored with) a wonderful group with wonderful ideals and plans in motion. Their numbers are legion, their faith and their will is strong and they are making a difference. I'm proud that I belong to Pax Christi.

I used to feel that I made a difference. I still believe I did, in my own little way, for years and years, but I got paid for it. Now, towards the end of middle age, while I've still got some steam left, I'd like to use it.

I spent some time as a caregiver in the not too recent past, for a little boy who's Cerebral Palsy was so severe he had no abilities of his own. My problem with him is that he got too big for me to carry !

I'm thrilled to be able to care for my own (healthy,thank you God) grandson and I treasure every minute I get to spend with him. But that's getting, not giving.

I'll find something, different and special, I hope, but I wish I had traveled when invited overseas with "Operation Smile."  It's a ship that goes around the world, changing staff every 2 weeks. I was invited by a plastic surgeon I'd scrubbed in with to join this team about 12 years ago and I declined. The ports of call were Viet Nam and Kenya and their mission was to do nothing more than repair every cleft palate they could find. It's a forty-five minute procedure and gives these babies a better chance in life. There is no charge, the docs do their own triage and decide exactly whom will be given this gift the following day. Staff rotates every 2 weeks because they HAVE to, The conditions are poor, the hours are long and the work is exhausting. I was honored to have been asked, but declined. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak.

So, I'll be thinking of something,probably minor, but something,anything, in the next few weeks that will make a difference.Not because I'm all that noble, but because the voices in my head are telling me to. And I'll do whatever it takes to quiet them.

I regret not taking the chance on "Operation Smile," but I need to get over it and move on, because that ship has sailed.

Godspeed.

In the Eye of the Beholder

I had a nice long visit today with a friend,a good friend, someone with whom I've shared a great deal.

As usual, our conversation was all over the place, as happens when you're in and out of touch over the years. The best thing about that kind of friend is that you can pick right up wherever you left off...and we always do. We  share anecdotes, catch each other up, laugh & bicker, just like the old days.

We touched on a lot of topics today and he, eventually,as he always does, struck a nerve. Not a major nerve (he can do that too) a minor one, but we touched on it lightly & it resonated enough that I decided to blog about it, he already knows how I feel.

 It's this:

 One of things I'm known and, presumably, loved for is my sense of humor. I'm fortunately (and amazingly, considering everything) a very high spirited person.Too grateful to get depressed, too tenacious to know when to lie down & say "Uncle!"

I have a finely tuned sense of the ridiculous. I'm not exactly "a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants" kinda gal - pratfalls and sight gags don't get me going. It's the unexpected, the bon mot, the witty, the puns, the subtleties of life that crack me up, that slay me. I'm great at laughing uncontrollably & inappropriately (ask anyone.)

But what doesn't ever delight or amuse me is sarcasm. I loathe, detest, despise and abhor it...(but lemme tell ya how I really feel !) I think it is, as I reminded my friend, the weapon of the weak, the heavy handed humor of the adolescent and certainly unkind. It isn't used by anyone I know or love, I'm happy to say, at least around me. My family are like me & and I guess that's the way we roll.  Laughter at another's expense is cruel. I find enough in my everyday world to keep me upbeat, smiling and for the most part, happy.

But, I guess it's all about your environment.

 "You don't have a sense of humor, it has you"
(Larry Gelbhart, producer of MASH)

Now,that's what I'm talkin' about!

Onwards and Sideways

I want to read all night again, like I've done for years, but my eyes won't let me, despite having a recent eye exam & desired correction. My eyes will tear & ache, forcing me to call it a night. Except, I can't. I am plagued with, not insomnia, because I have no problem falling asleep, but with "sleep disturbance" (the clinical term)

It's disturbing, all right, it's beyond disturbing, it's downright frustrating! It's like taking a nap in the middle of the night. Then I awaken. God only knows why,nothing nagging at me, causing me to toss and turn. In fact, my dreams are rather interesting. I wish they were longer.

I guess this goes back to an earlier post, about "Passages" by Gail Sheehy. This is part of it, isn't it..? I talk to friends, complain about it and learn that they, too were awake at just the same time. We could've gone out for coffee or started a backgammom game online. But no one wants to call anyone else in the middle of the night, in case they got lucky.

(I remember when "getting lucky" had a whole nutha meaning)

So, I've reasoned that lack of sleep is responsible for lost synapses.My neurons aren't firing as fast as they once did. What tricks are needed to hang on and stay sharp? I'm great at head games, as long as they have to do with math or sentence structure.

With retirement, I've lost any structure my life had. No schedule. (No regrets, either) so my wake/sleep schedule is like that of a newborn.

I think I'll start setting my alarm clock again, just so I'll have the pleasure of slamming "snooze."

Now, that's what I call "getting lucky."

Bittersweet

The best relationships I've ever had have been with my dogs.The most lasting, too.

I'm so enjoying the company of my faithful companion, a shih tzu, named Georgia. I realize that is an odd choice for a name, but it suits her & had I one more girl-child, it would've been her name. I think it's sweet & feminine.

Make no mistake, in no way is Georgia feminine. She is, however, very sweet. In fact, I like her more than I do most people. Shih tzu is a breed I never dreamt I'd own. I never imagined I'd be that lady with a lap dog. And now that's exactly who I am. The minute I met her, 12 years ago, I fell in love with her, her scary looking underbite & big  brown cow eyes. That underbite would keep her from ever being a show dog, thank God. (I haven't stooped to that yet.)

 At 6 weeks, she was the size of a hamster. I brought her home in a slipper. I found her in northern Michigan & I thought she looked as out of place as I felt while living there. I came to adapt, to love the lifestyle actually, but that's another story, another blog.

I've always loved dogs so much & owned several, but always a large breed. German Shepard, Goldens, & a Collie who, while beautiful, was dumb as a box of rocks.I loved her too (that would be Lucy) but she couldn't jump up in my arms without knocking me down.

Georgia can. Georgia has been with me longer than several of my ex-husbands.  (again, another story....) She has a personality that is so comical, so endearing and is such an important part of my life. Her traits are many & varied. It's like she's inside my head ( it gets crowded in there sometimes)

With the spring, I felt the urge to rearrange the living room furniture. This interested her greatly. Except. She doesn't like any change in her routine & refused to enter the area for 2 days! She made her derision known by standing in the dining room & barking at it. Finally she succumbed & has again found her niche.

Her niche is with me, wherever I am. I realized last night as I climbed the stairs, following HER schedule for bedtime (she's so insistent!) how much I will miss her when that sad day comes. I know I'll be inconsolable. I know too, that if dogs don't go to heaven, I want to go where they go.

Another Country Heard From....

Lately, I have been chewed up & spit out by people I thought I knew. People with whom I've shared holiday dinners, a Godchild, & so called "Facebook Friends." (really, how many of them would give me a kidney?

It all had to do with the exciting news that our # 1 national enemy has been killed. It all has to do with the varying reactions with which this news was met.I was, AM distressed by all the "Dancing in the Streets."  Martha Reeves knew that dancing in the streets was celebratory, but for the sheer joy of being alive, of experiencing Motown in the summer.

This. This is a horrific display, celebrating the fact that more killing, a vengeful killing occurred. While I appreciate that OBL has been found, that the figurehead is no longer, I cannot jump for joy over even more murder. I don't understand ( &, being a retired hippie,("Peace & Love, y'all") probably never will understand why things went down the way they did. A covert mission involving Navy Seals, check. The discovery of public enemy #1, check. The fact that OBL refused to surrender, check. He resisted arrest, check. ZING - 2 bullets, head & heart, check. Wait. Why?  I'll never understand why he wasn't overpowered, tasered, captured.

I realize it would've been costly to the American people to house this man, try this man, maintain this man. But there's no price on life. In my opinion, he needed to be captured, tried and then forced to live out his life in solitary confinement.

But that's just me, I'm a catholic, I'm pro life and I'm a retired hippie.

Peace & Love, Man ~

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." —Rev Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.

Strange, But True ...

I was in my home office, working on ( well, that doesn't matter) and I had nothing but silence surrounding me. I was engrossed in my project, typing furiously, when I heard the most beautiful, melodic whistling I've ever heard. It was pitch perfect and solitary. Clear as the night air. I stopped typing and was afraid to even move. All windows and doors were open, so I sat back to listen. The tune was familiar and complete. The song was a favorite. It was 4:15 am and someone was serenading me with " I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen"

I stepped outside, dog at my feet, silent too & learned the source. It made me laugh and cry at the same time and wonder if I were dreaming. ( I wasn't)

It was a nightwatchman across the way, walking through a parking structure, affording him delicious acoustics. Far too old for the job ( he HAD to be, knowing that particular song) and I'm thinkin' he was a little fearful of sabatoge. For while his lyrics are of another, safer day, his circumstances were not.

I hope he comes back, I hope he remains safe and I hope to God I hear him again