I'M A PITTA WITH A KAPHA KITCHEN

I've always thought of myself as a Kapha girl. I mean, I've never taken a dosha quiz, but just from the things I know about doshas I just pegged myself as a Kapha. Well it turns out I was all wrong. I finally took a dosha quiz and I'm a Pitta. Pitta, Pitta, Pitta. I know none of this makes sense to many of you, but stay with me here. In Ayurveda you are always more of one dosha than the others, but ideally you'd like to be kind of close to balanced in all three. The thing about these kinds of workshops is that you have a tendency to go into them assuming that you have some sort of major dosha imbalance. In other words you go into them thinking there's something wrong with you. Well, I learned this weekend that there's nothing wrong with me. I'm fairly balanced in all three doshas, but I'm strongest in the Pitta. I eat a diet that suits my dosha and do activities appropriate for my dosha. I'm doing most every thing right. You know what is wrong? My kitchen. My kitchen is all wrong for an Ayurvedic kitchen. See the evidence below.

That top square is how the layout of an Ayurvedic kitchen should be. That bottom square is a diagram of my kitchen. See the the problem here? I've got fire where I should have water and earth where I should have air. My kitchen walls are yellow which is a Kapha balancing color and the color swatch I've had taped to that wall for over a year is orange which is a Vata balancing color. Maybe I won't be painting that kitchen orange after all. In fact, from where I'm sitting, all I can think to do is gut it entirely and start over from scratch. I mean how hard could it be to move plumbing and gas lines?

OK, maybe that's a bit of an over reaction. That top diagram is the ideal Ayurvedic kitchen, but nobody lives in ideal conditions. There are ways I can fix my kitchen without calling in the construction crew. The first thing I can do is paint my kitchen a Pitta soothing color like green, blue or purple. Next I need to put something inspiring along with a small water feature in the north east corner. The water feature can be something as simple as a plant or a vase of flowers. Since I can't move my stove into the "fire" corner, I can put things that get hot in that corner. This is something I already do. My coffee maker sits there and also the rice cooker. Now, let's move to the earth corner. That's a good place to store things from your past. I'm doing OK here too. This is the area I store my dishes. My dishes are special, made by my mother, and spent three years packed away in storage. They represent something from my past. The air corner is where you should keep the things that you don't use too much. I use the fridge every day, but I store baking pans and muffin tins in the cabinet above.

So... nothing a little paint and inspiration won't fix. The first thing I need to do is figure out a paint color. I've been set on the idea of orange for a kitchen for a long time. Now I'm leaning towards eggplant. And maybe open up the cabinet above the stove to put cookbooks and something inspirational to look at while I cook. Easy, simple fixes and I'll have my very own Ayurvedic kitchen. Om shanti.

A PETITION

Last year I spent my birthday at a hospital either cheering Chris on while he drank down yucky barium or waiting for him to come out of more tests. The icing on the cake of that day was sitting in the oncologist's office listening to him pass on Chris's death sentence. I received the gift of death last year. It was not awesome. As this year's birthday grew closer, people started asking me or mentioning having big celebration plans for my birthday. I would cringe every time at the thought of celebrating, what now seemed to me, death penalty day. This year I really wanted to petition to move my birthdate. I could move it to or near the date I was actually supposed to have been born, the end of March or possibly even April 1st. Chad called this pyrite. Maybe I was meant to be a fool's gold baby. Or maybe my birthdate could be the actual day my parents were finally able to take me home from the hospital (I spent a few months there, it's just what they do when you're like 3 lbs.). But then I became aware of the legal repercussions of changing your birthdate. It's more complicated than changing your name.

When it became clear that I could not change my actual birthdate, I started looking into ways to fall off the face of the planet. Disappearing to Paris was an extremely appealing idea. I've never been to Paris and I hear it's lovely. Or maybe I'd like to escape the cold of winter by losing myself on a sunny beach in the tropics. But falling off the face of the planet is EXPENSIVE. I soon realized that I needed look closer to home for my "escape". So I signed up for a weekend Ayruvedic workshop being held at one of the local yoga studios. Yesterday I spent the whole afternoon doing yoga and learning how to build an Ayruvedic kitchen (that's an entry all unto itself). I woke up this morning with a groaning and creaking body that wasn't used to three yours of yoga. My ribs hate me. I am officially 109. I started a new journal. This journal will not contain grocery lists like my current everyday journal. This journal will be just for practicing creativity. This afternoon will be more learning about foods for my dosha and more yoga (ouch). And then I will eat a giant (not good for my dosha) birthday dinner at Cafe Grateful.

And I will slowly erase the memory of last year's birthday from my brain.

Thank you all for the wonderful birthday wishes.

ADULT PURCHASES

As an adult I have purchased a washer and dryer, a lawnmower, a car (twice!), and a house. I have never purchased a couch. Couches have always been hand-me-downs. The couch we had in our first apartment was a cast off of Mom's when she decided she wanted something different in the living room. That couch followed us from Chickasha to Stillwater. After that we got Randy and Katrina's big red couch and that was our couch until we moved in with Chris's mom. We didn't need a couch then because she already had two couches. When we moved to KCMO we sat on the air mattress for a month before hauling Traci's old leather couch up here. Traci's old couch (I do not mean to offend you Traci) was a monster couch. It was big and bulky. It made squeaky noises and the cushions would often try to eat you. That couch was always left out of the picture whenever we discussed the living room make-over, but couches are expensive. Unless you pick it up off the curb, which is basically what I've been doing since 1998. It was time to break that cycle. Yet it still wasn't my intention when I woke up Saturday morning to go out and buy a new couch. Big purchases make my stomach hurt. But as I read through all my email ads that morning I noticed that World Market was/is having a big furniture sale and I had just received a 15% off anything coupon from them for my birthday. So...I bought a couch and the $277.45 I actually spent on the couch made my stomach less hurty.

My family being here also made it possible to buy the new couch. The couch came in a box that would not have fit in my car and only just barely fit in Mom's vehicle. Then there was some assembly required. The guy at the store said the assembly was just a matter of attaching the feet. Randy and I looked at the box that was not shaped at all like a couch and blindly nodded "riiiggghttt" at the guy. No..."some assembly" in this case stood for "build your own damn couch". Well actually it translated to "Randy, build your sister's damn couch", 'cause he put the couch together with tools that he despised. Apparently he wanted some kind of wrench thingy that I didn't seem to have. He kept mumbling angrily about it under his breath. He couldn't believe that I didn't have one and asked me how I was able to get my lawn mower apart without it. I told him I used my teeth. He told me the he knew what I was getting for Christmas. Except it sounded more like a threat. Any way, I wouldn't have a couch I could actually sit on if he hadn't decided to be the only boy at a mostly girl party.

I spent most of Sunday lounging around on my new couch. I think we're going to be real good friends. And I'm almost done with the living room. I'm down to window treatments and figuring out what to put on the TV wall (if anything). I may need to lay on my new couch and stare at that wall some more. I'm just going to say "new couch" twenty more times. New couch!

LAND OF THE LIVING

You know how I wrote that whole Thankful Friday entry about how I was getting better? That's the type of entry that happens when you write ahead, because in reality Friday morning I woke up with another sore throat and I was all "MOTHER F*&#@#$!!!". I stayed home from work, drank copious doses of Alka Seltzer cold medicine, used my Neti pot twenty times and drooled on the couch while watching season 2 of Portlandia (second episode is the best. ever. by far.). I continued to take the Alka Seltzer on Saturday and only moved from the couch long enough to take the car in for it's oil change and run to the mall for some beauty supplies. It was a short outing. The rest of my weekend was spent watching Season 7 of Weeds (meh), various movies and documentaries, and washing clothes. I did make it to Sunday dinner at the Lange's where Hannah introduced to me to all of her Princess Barbies (highlight of the weekend). Yes, I was disgustingly lazy this weekend, but the sore throat is gone. All that remains is a sniffle and an occasional cough. I feel really guilty for the lack of moving around this weekend. I did the minimal amount of house work needed to be done (clothes, dishes). I did paint my fingernails (something I hardly ever do). I also unplugged the lights on my tomato cage Christmas tree. Notice I said "unplugged". This does not mean that it has been put away. Oh no. It's still sitting on my front porch (better than a rotting pumpkin). And the more things I list, the guiltier I feel about how I spent my time. Actually, the Christmas tree sitting on the front porch was the clincher. But I'm better. I'd even say that I am well.

The actual act of doing less is an art. It is an art form that I can do well, but not without guilt. I don't even really understand why that is. My house is always clean. Clothes are never left piled on the floor or in the dryer. And though there have been a couple of Sunday's where I didn't brush my teeth until 3 in the afternoon, I am usually clean. The neat and tidy of my house should not be a source of guilt. Also, I hear all of you shouting "But Cindy, you've been sick!" yet this does not ease any of the guilt I feel for watching so much TV, and I don't think having a little guilt is such a bad thing and here's why. Guilt has always been a huge motivator for me.

There was a time when guilt would take control of my life and send me into straight on panic. Like when I thought I needed to be at the gym three times a day and I'd feel guilty for only making it twice. My rational brain recognizes that as crazy behavior, but when you're the fat kid and have always been the fat kid and still feel like you're the fat kid even though you're not, exercise is one of those things you obsess about. My feelings of guilt usually stem from the idea that I am not enough and back in the days when I truly believed that I was not enough, this guilt could turn me into a nervous wreck. Now I use that guilt to keep me on track with my usual routine. It's like my brain says "OK, you've had your weekend of indulgence, now it's back to the usual". Monday I worked, walked, spent over an hour on my yoga mat, made myself a baked sweet potato topped with kale and ricotta, cleaned the bathroom and took out the trash. Nothing extraordinary, all the things I'd usually spend time doing on a Monday, but all things that had been a bit disrupted since the Holidays.

So I guess I'm finally back to the usual and it only took a tiny amount of guilt to get me there.

WHAT'S TO COME

Those of you who have followed this blog for years know that I don't make a list of resolutions for the New Year. Last year I made a goal to do something about my health. I wasn't thinking big things, just the little things like have my eyes checked, go to a dentist, do something about my janky hip. I also made a goal to shed the guilt I tended to feel for being happy. None of those goals worked out very well for me. I never made it to an optometrist or a dentist. I never found a chiropractor and my yoga practice became sketchy. And that whole guilt thing? If anything I felt even more guilty for finding any amount of happiness in the last year. I have lots of expectations for myself in 2013. Lots of things I want to do. First I'd like to keep my sanity through the next two months. That may mean I spend more time in hibernation or sad things show up on the blog. I don't know. It's something that I'll deal with one day at a time. In the mean time I'll focus on my health. I'll finally go to that eye doctor and that dentist. I want to eat better and walk more and I want to get on my mat every day. I have no excuses now and it's time I really learn to take care of myself. I want to transform myself into that hippy yoga goddess I always wanted to be.

But that's not all. I want a lot for next year. I want to finish a big project I started on last year. I want to take Mom to Ireland. I want to use my camera more, not the iPhone camera, but my fancy pants camera. That means making an effort to get out on more photo walks and forcing myself to stop when I feel the urge to take a picture. I want to do some Life List things. I want to start teaching yoga again and do more volunteer work. And...and...I'd like to drop that whole guilt thing.

I know it's a lot. I told you I had great expectations for myself. Here's to a New Year. May it be filled with all of our great expectations.

MY HOLIDAY OF DISCONNECT

My last night at my parents, I made mom pull out all the old photo albums. There was a photo I was looking for in particular of me and my siblings, that now that I think of it, is in my stash of pictures in storage. But I looked through all the pictures anyway. There were loads of old square black and white photos taken of their lives before me and Janell even. I like looking through the pictures of my brother as a baby because I never knew him as little. He was a teenager when I came around. I was mesmerized by vintage Mom and my gangly Dad. There where pictures of the two them as a young couple on picnics with a young Aunt Anne and Uncle Russell. I asked mom about those pictures. She told me that they all used to pile in the car and head to botanical gardens in LA or Civil War battle sites like Vicksburg. I was shocked by this because I couldn't imagine that their parents allowed this. But then again, those were different times. As I flipped through all those early years, I kept looking for signs wondering if they were happy then and feeling slightly removed from it all. Sort of how I've felt about this whole holiday.​​ I feel I haven't been really interactive. Present and accounted for for sure, but not participating. Many times during visits with friends, I felt off kilter. I might as well have had my camera up to my face because it felt like I was seeing it all through a film. I was an observer. I know a lot of this was probably caused by cold meds and antibiotics. It seems everyone got the plague for Christmas. But some of that feeling of disconnect comes from something else. Maybe I don't quite fit in here any more. I've turned into a square peg. Maybe it's that people here have moved on. Their lives have continued to move forward with various achievements, soccer games and classes while I've been standing still. Nothing's new with me. I have no words of humor or wisdom to bring to the table. So, instead I stand in a corner watching it all and feeling like a wallflower at the middle school dance hoping that someone will ask me to dance, but terrified that someone will ask me to dance. It wasn't all this way. The times where I was one on one with someone I was fine, not a complete zombie. But even then, I had a hard time shaking the melancholy blanket off my shoulder. I felt like I did a lot of complaining and I hate that. It sets me back to the years when I was whiny and complained all the time. My massage/energy worker/therapist tells me it's OK to be where I am, but I don't want to be in that place. And I can't help but hear the Waitresses singing "Christmas Wrapping" some where in the back of my head. ​ Robin provided a cozy space for me to run to during those times I needed to be reclusive. I knew that moving would risk things, but I was optimistic. I lost a bit of that optimism when Chris left. He was the glue and I'm not confident enough in myself to be able take up the part of being glue. I'm more like tape and not even the good kind that sticks to everything. I just barely hold on and I know that I need to try harder, reach out more often. I don't even have a good excuse other than I'm lazy. Next year I'll do better, I'll be healthier, I'll be skinnier, I'll be... Isn't that the way? I say these things in my head, but don't feel them in my heart. Someone told me not too long ago that it's possible I'm too hard on myself. I told him that's probably true. I've always expected too much of myself and those around me. It's why I'm constantly the cheerleader. I believe we can do anything. But those pom poms have gotten heavy and I've lost the energy to cheer myself on let alone any one else. Yet, I'm not willing to retire them just yet either. I still believe. My soul just needs a rest. So that's the plan, let this old soul of mine take a rest. Practice the art of living as opposed to just existing which is what I feel like I've been doing lately.

IT'S OH SO QUIET

I've been a little quiet these days. Every time I sit down to write something, I end up deleting what ever I write. I've been busy with Holiday gatherings and mustering Holiday cheer. And eating Holiday cookies. So many Holiday cookies, I've scheduled a juice cleanse for January. There's been broken arms (not me), dead dogs, emergency appendectomies (again, not me), and not to mention the horribleness of events in Connecticut. I feel like maybe we all just need to sit real still and not make any sudden movements for the next couple of weeks. So let's look at these pictures I took of Christmas lights instead of me ranting about gun control (control does not equal ban people, pull your heads out of your butts) and lack of compassion towards the mentally ill.

Oooohhhh....pretty pretty lights.

I'll probably be practicing this art of stillness and silence until after the New Year.

THERE'S NO WAY TO TITLE THIS ENTRY

Thursday morning I took Hooper back to the vet for his follow up appointment. He made an odd grunting sound as I picked him up and put him in the car and I thought to myself "Oh...this is bad". I left him at the vet office so they could look him over and do X-rays and then I ugly cried my way to work because I knew it was going to be bad. And it was. Hooper had a mass on his stomach and kidney and maybe even his liver. He was one sick dog and the vet said he thought it would be best to put him down. So...that's what I did on Thursday. I said goodbye to my dog. It really seems like 2012 has been the year of death. Losing my husband and my dog all in the same year is kind of a shitty deal. I've been looking at it from many angles. Someone could easily look at my life and see that I may have gotten the monkey's paw of a life. Good things come at a sacrifice. If that's the case, thank the Gods I didn't win on that lottery ticket I bought the other day. All of this also kind of makes me feel like I'm the Grim Reaper and the playlist running through my head right now ranges from Hole's "Violet" to Eric Carmen's "All By Myself". But I call bullshit on the whole sacrifice thing. Good things, bad things they all balance themselves out. It's just that mine seems to balance out in years. Good years/bad years. There's no way to sugar coat this year as a good year. Good things happened this year like my trips to New York and Atlanta and new babies in the family.

There's many of you who are probably wailing to the Heavens "WHY TAKE THE DOG THIS YEAR TOO?!?!!?". My reply is why not take the dog too. Hooper was old and I knew he didn't have much time left on this planet. That's the way of dogs. They just don't get as many years as they deserve. But the truth is, this year, next year or even the next year wouldn't have made it any easier. Kind of like ripping a band-aid off. Do it fast and get it over with. It's one less thing to mar the next year. For the first time in many years I have no one to take care of but myself. So maybe 2013 is going to be learning how to care for me for a change, which will be weird.

So...I'm adding to my collection of ashes on the bookshelf. I'm turning into a macabre version of that little old lady who swallowed a fly or a Tim Burton like children's book. All I know is that I'm ready for that balanced year of good.

THREAD

Hooper didn't eat or drink all day yesterday or today and has been really lethargic. I took him to the vet this afternoon and was told to take him off the pain meds and the vet gave him a shot of something. Now we wait it out to see how he responds. It's like history repeating itself, but this time it's with my dog. As I was driving back to work after dropping off Hooper at the house, my head flashed back to the countless of times I drove back forth to check on Chris. I felt myself back in that place scrambling to hold normalcy together, keeping the house together, staying on top of things at work, trying to make Chris better, convinced I could I do it all. I can't. I never could. Yes... I realize that I am over reacting a bit. But maybe I'm just reacting.

I think I'm taking a break from the blog this week. That thread that's barely holding me together has become seriously frayed. I'm going to work on winding that up.

TWENTY THINGS

I'm having a really hard time staying present in this moment. My brain keeps jumping ahead to things to come, plans for the next year and how to organize myself for all of it. I just can't help myself. Last week I had a massage/healing with a wonderful lady named Jeana. It was a Groupon I'd purchased months and months ago, but due to scheduling she couldn't get me in until Dec 6th. I say it's a massage/healing because part of the session was spent talking about what's causing the tension in my shoulders and the rest of the session was the actual massage to get rid of the tension in my shoulders. During the talking part of the session Jeana recommended that I make a list of twenty things that I enjoy doing or want to do and then get out there and do them. The idea was to do social things that would get me out and meeting new people, like take a class or volunteer or start teaching yoga again. These are things I had already started thinking about for next year, but it also made me think about the Life List. Once a year I usually sit down and edit the Life List. I may take something off the list that I'm really not all that gung ho to do any more and replace it with something that sounds more fun (to me). I may make an edit to an actual item by changing the terms or conditions. But this year, I didn't do that. Every time I thought about doing it, I remembered that I had #79 on that list. When Chris and I came home from the oncologist's on the day they told us that there was nothing we could do to fix Chris, we made a list of things we needed to do and started on a list of things we wanted to do. Things fell apart when we started on the list of things we wanted to do. The idea that we wouldn't be able to do those things together was just too much to think about. It's the same problem I've had with the Life List. Even though #79 is the only item on the list that specifically includes Chris; all of the other things are things that I just assumed Chris would be involved in. So attempting to make any kind of edit to the list has been like running into a brick wall.

When Jeana mentioned making the 20 things list, I decided it was time to at least look at my Life List. I know there's got to be at least 20 things on that list that would get me out and about. It's just that the realization that I don't need Chris to do any of those things is bitter sweet. I never needed Chris in order to do anything on the list except #79, and I admit that one was a total cheat. I just wanted him to be a part of it whether he liked it or not. The things on the list are still things I want to do. There are some changes I'd like to make to it and I will do that soon. But for now, I'm planning to pull twenty things from that list to work on in the next year. I think 2013 will be the year of self discovery.

THE WIDOW MADDERA'S GUIDE TO SMOOCHING

This may not be a post for all eyes. For instance if you're my brother, you're probably not going to want to read this. If you continue on, well, don't say I didn't warn you. There was a guy I went out with a couple of times. He was nice, not unattractive. On our first date he kept looking at me weird, like he couldn't quite figure me out, but he asked me out again for the following week. The day of what was supposed to be our second date, he sent a text saying that he had to cancel. Something about a busy week and things with friends and family he had to think over. I figured this meant that he was just not that into me and didn't expect to hear back from him. But I did and we went on a second date and it was fine. Notice the use of the word "fine". There came a point near the end of the evening when I started thinking to myself "how do I get rid of this guy?". It's not that I wasn't having a good time or he made me feel uncomfortable. I was just ready for the date to be over. And then the guy kissed me.

The kiss was not a bad kiss. It was not a huge cavernous mouth of a kiss. I did not feel like he was going to swallow me whole. It was not the kind of kiss that felt intrusive or slobbery. It was a perfectly nice kiss. I just felt nothing. Nada. Nothing. Not even a zing or a zip or spark. And I knew right there and then that I would not being seeing this guy again. Because you see, I know what I want from a kiss. I want the kind of kiss that makes me want more. I want a kiss to set my whole body on fire starting from the tips of my toes all the way up to top of my head. I want the kind of kiss that sets off a chain reaction where clothes become haphazardly clutched or even tossed to the way side, the kind that makes you forget how you made it from one room to the next without tripping and falling over your own feet. And because I know I want this, I know better than to settle for less.

Maybe that's the benefit of being so inexperienced. I can count on one hand the number of people I have kissed in a passionate on the lips kind of way. Also inexperienced may not be the best word to describe it. Though I may be lacking in number of conquests, I am not lacking in certain skills or know how. I know the difference between fine and really amazing. Now if I only understood weather, I really would be worthy of superhero status.

GETTIN' ALL CRAFTY UP IN HERE

Any girl that grew up in 4-H knows how to sew. This brain contains the knowledge of how to cut out a garment, follow a pattern, put in sleeves and even a zipper. But that knowledge is wedged way back in the middle somewhere. I hated every moment of sewing. I'm sure my mother also hated every minute of me sewing because she couldn't get as far as the bathroom before I'd be screaming "MOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM". My memories of sewing are memories of a constant battle with the sewing machine and hours of ripping out seams. Making a garment for a 4-H project means that is has to be perfect. PERFECT! So it's no big surprised that I gave it up when my 4-H career ended. But people, have you seen the lovely fabric that's out there these days?!? Its so freaking enticing. I decided to drag out my sewing machine and make Hooper and I knew stockings. We never got around to replacing them after the accident I don't talk about. Every Christmas I'd look at the store made ones and never really see anything that reflected us. I knew that the only way I'd be able to get OUR stockings was if I made them. So I did.

I spent thirty minutes fighting with the sewing machine and remembering how to actually use the thing, but turns out it's kind of like riding a bicycle. And there was no need to be perfect because I have no plans on entering them in any competition. I didn't even use a pattern. As long as you don't look down inside them too closely, I think they turned out lovely. The material for my stocking came from Owl & Drum. My HS friend Dani partnered with a friend of her's to open this really cute little shop in Tulsa, but you can also buy from them online. They have lots of cute things.

And then I wrapped a tomato cage with Christmas lights, because I couldn't stop myself.

BE WILLING

Tuesday morning as I sat in meditation mentally kicking aside grumbles that plagued my brain, the phrase "be willing" passed across the front of my eyes. Part of me laughed at this. Be willing? I feel like I'm always willing. Willing to try the new thing. Willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. Willing to work hard. Willing to give in to the things I don't want to do. But there are things I am generally not willing to do as well. I will never willingly admit defeat even when I know there's no possible way of winning. I will never be willing to admit that I need help or be willing to ask for it when I need it. Some times I am unwilling to let go of the grumbles that plague my brain and some times I am unwilling to accept that I can not fix everything. I am sure that this is the reason those words passed like ticker tape across my brain. I have been trying to figure out how to hold onto while simultaneously letting go. This is like Hooper's retractable leash. It lets him have the illusion of freedom without him actually having the freedom to chase that car down the street (he totally would if I let him). It's pretend and I am pretending that I can let go and hold on at the same time. I've always been so good at compartmentalizing everything. My head matches my basement. Everything gets neatly organized and put in sections, but nothing ever really gets tossed. I have a whole stack of things in the basement that I've put in what I call the "garage sale section". It's been there for months just waiting for that right time to have a sale except there never seems to be a right time.

I need to be willing to truly let things go. I need to be willing to find the important things to hold onto and let the rest just go. Subconsciously I know that this load is getting too heavy, that I'm holding on to too much. Even my words lately. It feels like it's taken days to write this entry and the urge to just not write or delete what I have written has been so great. Each sentence has been like pulling teeth. I need to be willing to let go of those words trapped in my head. Lately I've noticed that I've been putting things off with the intent of starting anew in the New Year. "Next year I will...". I forget about right now. So I think, for right now, I'm going to be willing.

What about you? What are you willing to do or not do?

NO ONE WAS HURT IN THE MAKING OF THIS ENTRY

I have never been one for big crowds and crazy sales. I think we ventured out for a Black Friday once years ago, back when doors opened at SIX AM! We vowed never to do it again. This year stores got the ball rolling on Thanksgiving Day with deals starting at 10 PM and doors opening at some places at midnight. I guess when your economy is based on people buying crap, you do what you gotta do to get them into your shop. I was lured in this year with the idea of getting a new TV. I am not exaggerating when I say that my computer monitor at work is bigger than my home TV. When Katrina told friends that we would be venturing out on Black Friday to get me a new TV, people would ask "why does she need a new TV?". Katrina would hold up her hands about 20 inches apart and the immediate reaction would be "Ooooohhhh". It was so small, I had been avoiding foreign films on Netflix because I couldn't read the subtitles. My niece Amanda found out about our plan and wanted in on the action too. She had her eye on a North Face jacket. So this is how we found ourselves standing in a line that wrapped around the back of Best Buy at 11:45 Thursday evening and when doors opened at midnight everyone politely and calmly entered the store. That's right. There was no trampling or screaming or shoving. There was no snatching items out of others hands or tug of wars of DVDs. By the time we made it in the store, they were already out of the TV I had planned on (actually, you had to get there at 10 and get a ticket for it, we didn't know this). We sent Amanda to wait in check out while Katrina and I looked at my TV options. They had a 32' Dynex for $180 and a 32' Samsung for $240. I had no idea what the difference in the two was, but I discovered that you could ask any man in that store what he thought about a particular TV and he would tell you. EVERYTHING. I went with the Samsung (it's remarkably light weight!). Easy peesy. Next on our list was Amanda's North Face jacket. She'd seen it in the Macy's add so Randy drove us over to the nearest Macy's. We searched around the coats, but didn't find it so I asked one of the store clerks. She told us that they didn't have them at this Macy's and we'd have to go to the other Macy's. Randy was not too thrilled, but Amanda pulled out the "but Uncle Randy" voice and there was no problem. Except that Macy's didn't have the jacket either. I talked to a floor manager there and he said he never gets them (I started my angry letter in my head at that point). Next stop was Dick's Sporting Goods and they did have her jacket. Yippee! We waited an hour in line to check out of Dick's and that was the longest wait we had all evening (morning?).

After that we ended up at Target. Katrina and I lost Amanda somewhere in the store and the two of us ended up in the Christmas isle so tired that we were making the Christmas ornaments talk to each other. Katrina said something about how her shoes kept falling off. I asked her why and her response was "because bub boop de boop". That was our end. Amanda was still bright eyed and bushy tailed, but Katrina and I couldn't even say our names and I still had to drive Amanda and I back to Mom's. We made it home around 4:30 AM. We never did witness a fight or see rudeness happening. Everyone was really calm and polite. We did see some crazy shit like a few families wearing matching Black Friday t-shirts and one guy camped out at PetCo. But there was no blood or gore or mangled bodies. Kind of a let down.

BECAUSE I FELT LIKE I SHOULD BE WRITING MORE THAN LOVE THURSDAY AND THANKFUL FRIDAY ENTRIES

Some times I think I should take a holiday from blogging around this time of the year. It's just that I feel like I have nothing to bring to the table. My brain is scattered about all the things that I need to do or want to do or have to do before the New Year. All of that is competing with thoughts and plans for after the New Year. For some reason this year my brain is particularly scrambled (I know). Oh! I need to get my passport renewed. That expires this year.

See what I mean? I am distracted. I'm currently reading The Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling and by currently, I mean it's taken me three weeks to get to the second chapter. Some where in the middle of that I decided to start watching the Twilight movies because they've been on sale through Amazon which streams through the Roku box. I've never felt more ashamed of myself than I do right now for admitting that I've seen these movies. And now I can't un-see them. I started a hat for someone as a gift earlier in the year. I have taken it apart and started over on it three times. We might as well go ahead and say four times because I'm not happy with how this round is going. In fact, I'm pretty sure I made it too small so I'm going to have to take it apart again any way.

Oh, and I watched Toy Story 3 the other day because it was the only thing on at the time even though I knew it was at the part where shit gets real. So...maybe I should just stick to the Love Thursday and Thankful Friday entries.

DRY

Thursday night I slept with my shoulders scrunched up around my ears and when I woke up around 3 AM, my body was hurting and I was considering calling in sick. Sleeping hasn't been restful lately. But I got up at the usual crazy hour Friday morning and did all the things I usually do even though it hurt to turn my head left or right. Because this is what I do. I'm pretty sure I was a pack mule in my former life. Or a camel. Any way, I scheduled myself a massage for Saturday morning. I'd never been to this day spa before, but it had been recommended by someone at work and it was a very nice place. As day spas go, it was one of those kind you see featured in a magazine. The problem was I had read this blog entry by Pamie the day before. Really...you should go read it. It's horrifyingly funny. That was the first problem. The second one was that I forgot to put lotion on when I got out of the shower. I realized this as I was putting on my socks, but shrugged and thought "meh, they use massage lotion, that's good enough". Listen, if you knew how many times I forgot what year it was while filling out the paperwork at the new spa, you'd understand how easily I'd forget lotion.

Cut to my massage. Just as I climb onto the table I think "Life is gross. Carry a flashlight". So, that's in my head as I pat down the table to reassure myself before settling in (thank you Pamie). Actually, that thought doesn't really leave my brain until the massage therapist starts to work on my shoulders. But then I get distracted by the therapist constantly having to dip into his supply of body butter that he's using as massage lotion. My skin was so dry that it immediately sucked in the lotion as soon as it touched my skin. I could actually hear my skin cells making a slurping sound. The guy probably went through two buckets of body butter.

But, and this is the most important part, I can now turn my head left and right without wanting to cry. Yeah! And I'm well moisturized.

IT'S IN HERE SOMEWHERE

One of the things Terry said to me the other night was "Wonder Woman? It's time to put your bracelets on". I'm stuck. Words and ideas are trapped inside my brain and I can't figure out how to get them out. I think maybe if I bought a new computer, the words would just drop out of my finger tips. You would be able to read entertaining entries and I'd make some progress on that book thing I've started (I'm not talking about that). I stopped using my laptop months ago because it would do this thing where the cursor would just randomly jump to a new place. I'd be typing along and look up to see that I'd just written a whole paragraph in the middle of sentence from another paragraph. It was a mess. So I moved to the laptop that Todd had sent for Chris to use. It's fine; it just makes this slight whiny noise and has to stay plugged in. Both are old as tombs. But I'm hemming and hawing over making a decision. My thoughts are as scattered as the things Chad kept sneaking into my purse. The first thing I found was a toy jeep.

It was my last day and I was cleaning out the trash that had accumulated in the bottom of my bag when my fingers rolled across the little wheels. I picked it up and looked at it. I knew there had been kids at the party the day before, but I couldn't imagine any of them digging around in my purse. So I took it downstairs to Chad and asked "do you know why there's a jeep in my purse?". It looked like he was going to try to deny it's existence, but instead blurted out "because it's a jeep". Chad and Jess are Jeep people. We rode all over Atlanta in a Jeep. In fact, I still have the remnants of a bruise on my shin where I banged the fuck out of it while clambering in.

Then, while we were at breakfast, I reached into my purse to grab my camera. Resting on top of my camera was this toy Death Star.

There was no explanation for this one. He didn't say a word, just shrugged because we already knew why that one was in there. I think that was the last thing. I haven't really dumped out the purse since my trip and that may be something I need to do. But I'm pretty sure those where the only things he snuck past me. They seem random, but really, if you know how to look, you'll see the connection and the random things found in my purse are no longer random. Learning to find the connection with the little things helps my find the connections with the big things.

CHURCH

I hadn't been to Terry's house or had seen the boys since Easter. Summer had been a busy one for all of us, but Saturday night we all gathered at his place because our friend Heather was visiting from CA. And even though I had been neglectful all summer, they welcomed me with open arms. It seems like every time I end up there, Terry gives me some tid bit of wisdom. It's like he's my priest (he's going to love that comparison). We found ourselves alone on his back patio at one point during the evening so that I could have my confessional moment. I confessed my fears and faults and Father Terry gave me absolution. He said some things that I'm not ready to believe about myself just yet. They were all good things, things that the people who love me already know. Instead of Hail Marys, he made me list things that I can do that know one else can. I argued with him over this. I told him that we all have the potential to do the things that I can do, still insisting that I am not special. But he persisted. So I gave him a few answers like I can be honest and I can find humor in adversary. But I still don't believe that these are things that only I can do. And then it came to me, that thing that I can do that no one else can do. No one else can be any better at being me than I can.

I have some work to do, but don't we all? I see it as a work in progress. It'll be a resolution for the New Year. But I left Terry's house that night with lighter shoulders and a full heart. I also left with a big bag of tomatoes, a dust mit shaped like a hedgehog (Heather), and an empty bowl that looked liked someone had licked clean (pear, grape, and pomegranate guacamole is the crack of guacamole). I need to go to church more often.

MY INTERNAL COMPASS IS BROKEN

I've been really reluctant to admit this, but I think my internal compass is broken. I've always instinctively been able to point out north, south, east and west. I get my direction and map skills from dad and he has mad navigational skills. There's only been one time when I've been unable to figure out north and that was when we were in Portland. I blamed it on the fact that Portland has a true north and a magnetic north. But other then that time, I've always been spot on with directions. Remember how I talked about driving 40 minutes in the wrong direction the other day? My instructions where to take Hwy 7 south. I exited on Hwy 7, but I went north. There was just something about how the exit looped off the major Hwy I was just exiting that made me think I was headed in the right direction. I drove and drove on this little two-lane Hwy that twisted and turned and passed you through little towns. The entire drive, I was torn between the beauty of all the trees and Fall colors and this annoying thought that the sun wasn't in the right place. And when I finally passed a sign telling me I was on Hwy 7 North, I slapped my forehead and turned around.

If I'm to be completely honest, this thing with the compass has been happening quite a bit. When I was in New York in July, I never figured out where I was. I turned out of Talaura's apartment and onto the street in the wrong direction just about every morning. I might as well been wearing a leash for Talaura to lead me around with. The entire time I was in Atlanta, I had zero clues into which direction was north. None. I had no freakin' idea where I was in relationship to north, south, east and west. I never told anyone this or asked "hey, which way is north?". I just went with it. And the other night when I went out to Jeff's house for Halloween, even though I'd been there twice before, I still got lost.

It's not like my compass needle is completely broken. I could stand up right now and point you correctly north. I think it's just off a little. It needs some adjusting. Or it needs to be re-magnetized. Always with the magnets.

I HAVE A THING FOR THE MACABRE

My fascination with cemeteries started last year. There are two cemeteries that I pass on my way to and from work every day and occasionally stop in for pictures. Forest Hill and Calvary cemeteries contain some of the most prominent Kansas City families, baseball players, R & B singers, and the founder of Hallmark Cards. There's something about the way the light gets captured in these cemeteries that just pulls me in. So when Chad mentioned Oakland Cemetery and how it's the oldest cemetery in Atlanta, I knew it was a place I had to see. I could have wandered through those grave sites all day and I'm really at a loss of words on how to describe the visit. Some of the headstones were heartbreakingly beautiful.

And then there's Margaret Mitchell, the author of Gone With the Wind.

But my favorite section was the Jewish section. There was just something about the closeness of the grave sites and the pebbles and rocks left on headstones. I felt more at peace in this section of the cemetery than I have in most churches.

Oakland Cemetery is a place to get lost in. If I had to pin point one thing that was my favorite part of that trip, I wouldn't be able to pick just one. But this place is way high up on that list.