Ginger

Combing through iPhoto today and found this. Ginger was the sweetest of the Freedom Ride horses I met at their annual Derby Day Soiree fundraiser last May. I wasn't as confident approaching some of the others!

Spent some time with Kat last week. Standing in a stall while she cleaned her horses' feet and described how much grain they eat (Scully-dog scavenged any bits Sienna scattered off the floor), it shocked me to realize how much fear I seem to have developed over the years. From horse-crazy adolescent to wary adult; when did that happen? But I do miss riding in the desert; and marvel at memories of myself going out to catch my ornery horse at John's place, pushing hard in the dark to reach the river by moonrise, and keeping up with Tom while he gave Brandy a workout. Only ten years and a lifetime ago; was that me?

The Mirror and the Wall

In a relationship, my partner mirrors the places I need to grow, and is the wall I need to push against.

And a real gem from Shaina: When someone tells you "no", he has just saved you from spending an evening with someone who really didn't want to be there! Or from a fruitless (frustrating) conversation with someone who is unable to give you the attention you need at that moment. That is to say, he (or she) is doing you a favor by telling you "no". Brilliant!

Commitment

Bottle Blue

That's the name of the color we finished painting our library/office room today. It's a fabulous, medium-darkish sort of blue (picture a bottle) and will provide a great backdrop for our sci-fi and fantasy collectibles. In addition to painting, we also hung new wood blinds, picked up a neat counterweight desk lamp, and--after much debate and re-arranging--agreed on a new furniture layout. All in all, a very productive day.

I always feel connected with Scott when we "project" together. Certainly there are moments when I want to tell him off! But his style has loosened up (he eyeballs and freehands now!), and mine seems to be getting more present and practical; I resist his suggestions less and I think he's more open to mine. My highlight was when he finally expressed his frustration with the old furniture layout, particularly that he didn't like being crowded and having my things all over his desk! That rare admission instantly broke through my irritation; I laughed and together we looked for ways to solve that problem.

And somewhere inbetween all that, we rescued a baby squirrel!

Mmm-mm Moment

Pushed against a pattern today. In a small way that seems almost silly, but then that's why they're called baby steps, right?

After lunch (I've been cooking fresh food for myself the last week or two, which has been a great improvement over the long run of frozen and prepared food I've existed on the last few months; it never seemed worthwhile to cook for myself), I found myself craving a Cookie. And after knocking about all the cupboards, I couldn't find anything else that would satisfy my craving. So I restlessly pulled down my cookie cookbook (which I'd flipped through the last time I craved cookies and didn't make them) and found a recipe for Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookies. Man, did that sound good.

Yet I did everything in my power to thwart myself from fulfilling my desire. Coming at it from a feeling of defeatedness before I even began, I looked for the slightest reason NOT to make cookies. Oh, too bad; I didn't have all the necessary ingredients. Oh wait--I do have baking soda. Not enough sugar... but I could raid the sugar bowl. In fact, if I halved the recipe (I certainly didn't need 6 dozen cookies!), I had just enough of everything I needed. Hmm... Well, there isn't enough time; it's only two hours until I leave for work. I looked at the recipe. I paced the four steps across our galley kitchen and back. It was too bad; I sure wished I could have a cookie.

Then I thought angrily, this is ridiculous! Why am I thinking two hours is not enough time? It was a micro-version of the feeling that the rest of my life is somehow not enough time to start something new. Or that a cookie-making detour was not worth the time it was going to take (unless I was ready to commit a whole day to baking--all the way or nothing!). Well, what else was I going to do for two hours? Next thing I knew I was in action; slowly at first, but then picking up speed and having more fun as I went--discovering I had pecans to throw in the mix; realizing I could use my big stand mixer. I suddenly remembered the time I journaled about making banana-nut bread; I'd forgotten the simple satisfaction of measuring, making, reaping edible results.

So, less than an hour after my "a-ha" moment, I was having a happy and satisfying "mmm-mm" moment with crispy chocolate chip pecan cookies, a glass of milk, and the next chapter of Prince Caspian!

Of course, after that all I wanted to do was take a nap!

Monday

It's Monday morning, and I'm struggling (as I frequently do on beautiful, sunny mornings with the whole, excruciatingly long day ahead of me) with a sense of being lost, directionless, displaced. What should I do? Where should I start? How will I fill this day? It's not that I don't have plenty of stuff to do; the office (currently under renovation) is a shambles, I have business calls to make, and there's always more laundry. It's more like I have no guiding principle or goal or priority to direct the flow of activity. And it's not that I have no purpose or see no value in my life; it's that I can't connect these mundane activities to that sense of purpose (which I hold in my head, but really experience only in fleeting moments).

A few weeks ago in despair I made an analogy to the laundry. No matter how much laundry I do, how well or how often I do it, there's always more laundry. And while I'm not now in despair or hopeless or wilting under a feeling of futility, I just can't seem to Organize my Life.

The kitchen timer has just sounded; mealtimes provide markers throughout my day, and Scott's return from work divides it. Otherwise my day is a formless void that I struggle to fill, and at the end of which I marvel at (anad shame myself over) how little I accomplished in so much time.

Overtaxed

Well, after spending the last couple of weeks blaming myself for lollygagging around and not getting anything done, I finally snapped to today (with a little catalytic help from Ron and Marcie) and gave myself permission to BE SICK. Instead of dividing my energy between taking care of my health and trying to work--and doing neither of them well--I've decided to devote the rest of the weekend to my own recovery. Without the guilt of feeling "lazy" over my head, I feel better already!

So after a trip to the allergist (who I left armed with an action plan, three scripts and two educational websites), I stopped for an excellent bowl of Caribbean Chicken Soup at Pollo Tropical (it reminds me of sancocho; and the new shrimp soup looks suspiciously like asopado) and passed a pleasant hour at Target choosing leisure activities... the Revenge of the Sith soundtrack (with bonus DVD!) and the complete Chronicles of Narnia in a fat paperback omnibus edition. Oh, yeah, and another ship to hang from the ceiling of our space-fantasy themed office, currently under renovation...

I feel so much more relaxed now... amazing how big a strain feeling guilty and angry at myself put on my already taxed system! And after all this time, I still forget to be aware of stuff like this.

Synergy

Deadly Emotions

Joyce Meyer's guests this morning were Dr. Don and Mary Colbert. Dr. Colbert is the author of Deadly Emotions, which I've been meaning to check out ever since the first time I heard him speak.

That time, Dr. Colbert got my attention when he described a physical parallel to restimulation (when you encounter a stimulus and because your old brain doesn't know the difference between the present and the past, you respond emotionally as you did when you first encountered this stimulus--in childhood, for example). Dr. Colbert said that a part of your brain (the amigdala, I think) stores the memory of your body's physical response, and so when you are restimulated [my word], your body has the same physical reaction--for example, an adrenaline rush. He went on to show how one thing leading to another can make you really sick (e.g. sustained adrenaline -> increased cortisol, which if sustained will basically start eating you from the inside... hope I remembered all that right!).

Today Joyce asked him and Mary about workaholics and people who can't rest. Some highlights:

He called anxiety the "common cold of mental illness"! He talked about needing to renew the mind, to re-program your brain with truth from the Word (like what I do in group: remind myself of truth and replace old recordings with true ones). Mary said that people expect something or someone "out there" to change the way they live or they way they think (like God waving a magic wand), when really only they can take control of and change those things. "If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always got."

One of Joyce's favorite verses is 1 Peter 5:8 (Amplified): Be well balanced (temperate, sober of mind), be vigilant and cautious at all times; for that enemy of yours, the devil, roams around like a lion roaring [[a]in fierce hunger], seeking someone to seize upon and devour.

I think Dr. Colbert is going to be on the show all week, if you want to check it out: 9:30AM M-F on BrightHouse channel 14. And, I didn't realize his office is right here in Longwood!

Think Denk

Think Denk:

What a wonderful word is "moot"... I imagine a map like Tolkien's, of Middle Earth, with a land named Moot, to which all irrelevant comparisons and questions are banished; or perhaps they simply choose to live in Moot, like some people choose to live in Idaho. There they would live, exchanging non sequiturs, while the rest of us pursue our linear, logical ways.

Just thought this was a wonderful image!

Shaken

I've been avoiding the news. After being exposed to it all day on Wednesday, I've pretty much stuck to the updates and what I get from friends and family, all of who are feeling their helplessness. Tonight I picked up a paper at Panera and read.

I read things that moved me to tears. People dying in shelters from Day One (what kind of existence did they have, to have been living 24 hours from death?). Learning that Florida schools are enrolling newly-homeless children. Victims arriving in Houston being designated "domestic refugees". Rescue workers being shot at. Pain, fear, anger I understand; but what motivates a person to fire on the very help he awaits before it has a chance to reach him? To rape and beat fellow disaster victims?

Things that angered me. Wounds, wounds; one man saying that it felt like the government was punishing the people of New Orleans. A university professor who thinks the government should have ordered a mandatory evacuation on Thursday--when the storm was still in South Florida, and who knew that it would survive crossing the peninsula and strengthen, much less where it was going to hit? The government is not God; neither is it the devil. And hindsight is always 20/20.

I'm so distressed. Last year when Florida was ravaged by four storms, I witnessed the best in people, peppered with some of the worst. Now all I see is the worst, and it's shaking me.

Gas, incidentally, is up to $3.11 (from $2.99 yesterday and $2.48 the day before). But with all that's happening, if that's the worst effect we feel locally, then I have nothing to complain about.

Top Ten

The below was posted in the news section of our consultant workstation today:

Congratulations to the Top 10 in Personal Retail Sales for each state!

We would like to congratulate the Consultants listed below for their achievements in Personal Retail Sales for the entire Convention 2005 period (June 2004–May 2005).
...
Florida
1) Ethel Ricardo, Village Of Palmetto Bay ($69,530)
2) Cindy Capwell, Palm City ($61,545)
3) Elise Beard, Ponte Vedra Beach ($51,463)
4) Kim Sverdlow, Brandon ($50,831)
5) Susan McCall, Clearwater ($48,003)
6) Anne-Marie Hulsey, Jacksonville ($45,361)
7) Holly Manus, Longwood ($38,615)
8) Diana Roberts, Lake Mary ($37,326)
9) Kara Coffey, Orange Park ($36,290)
10) Audrey Russell, Orlando ($35,822)

I already knew (it came in a mass email), but seeing it posted in black-and-white, in a public place for all to see, by Corporate is somehow Different. Official. I'm giddy; I just emailed it to Scott, my parents and my in-laws!

And Kim (my friend and sponsor) is #9 for the state of Virginia!

Ramblings of a sick mind

Spent this fine, hurricane-free Saturday morning behind the Mac (incidentally, named "Hal"; the PC is "Cortana"), keying in orders while listening to the fantastic soundtrack Wicked. I'm feeling much better today, if I ignore the fact that I still can't breathe and eat at the same time, and the vague sensation that I'm not right in the head (hardly a new development). Antibiotics must be kicking in. Since Wednesday I've existed on a steady diet of Boston Market chicken noodle soup (beats Campbell's for actual chicken content), with the notable and most excellent exceptions of Mr. Shannon's vegetable beef soup, Mom's mung bean soup with rice (which I know came from Deguzman's filipino grocery), and Dawn's delicious homemade corn chowder. [singing] Soup is Good Food...

Speaking of Dawn, I spent Thursday afternoon with my new(ish) friend at her home. What fun! I felt right at home sitting on her couch with my legs tucked up and her large Rottweiler mix Ivan on my lap (oof!). It's so rare I meet adult friends with so much in common--faith, band, music (she's responsible for the Wicked sountrack mentioned above), costumes, fantasy, even flatulent pets! And to top it all off... she lives HERE in ORLANDO! Woo-hoo!

Mom came over last night with soup and palitau (filipino dessert); the food was totally worth the usual scolding to take better care of myself (Marcie, I kept hearing "I'll take it under advisement" in my head!). But the real bonus was when she insisted on showing me how to make a tiny little spaghetti strap that I could turn into button loops on my pain-in-the-butt-plaid blouse. I stitched the bias strip as instructed, and damned if she didn't turn that thing inside out with a straightened hairpin! We were actually both giddy over the success of that experiment, and now I don't have to settle for elastic cord (or make it myself!).

Free at last

Today we decided Arrow's incision was healed enough for her to go swimming. It was so much fun to watch her plunge repeatedly into the canal and out again; lope along the bank, her sodden tail casting lazy arcs of water in her wake; and roll upside-down in the grass, wriggling down the slope until she almost fell into the canal. After weeks of cooping her up in an e-collar (the "cone of silence"!) and leash-walking, I enjoyed watching her wholly be a dog again.

So after 15 stitches and 3 weeks recovery, Arrow and mommy have one more thing in common: we are cancer survivors!

Have you seen the moon tonight?

Have you seen the moon tonight? It's large and low, full and flat, hanging heavy over the horizon, and the most amazing deep red-orange hue...

Happiness is...

...a chocolate sprinkle cone from Twistee Treat.

Chocolate sprinkle cones from Twistee Treat always put me in a simple, grade-school joy frame of mind. All cares melt away as long as there are sprinkles left to lick and cake cone left to crunch. If there's such a thing as positive restimulation (where the old brain doesn't know the difference between the present and the past), this is definitely it!

In grade school it was trips to the Dairy King (somewhere on Edgewater Drive, I think, across from a high school and near a church). Dad knew the owner--name the place, Dad always knows the owners--so at the end of the night, they gave us cartons of leftover ice cream mix.

In high school it was the Twistee Treat on Goldenrod Road, down the street from church. Cake cones towering with chocolate/vanilla twist soft-serve and completely encrusted with chocolate sprinkles RULED. The building is still there, although I heard it might be closed; we haven't been since we moved across town years ago.

Tonight on the way to Clermont, Scott spotted a Twistee Treat. So on our way back (at 9:30PM, still open!) we stopped for a cone. The cake-cone shaped building with a soft-serve peak roof stood alone on the side of the road, brightly lit in an area without street lamps. Faded red letters across the top of the building still say "6 flavors", and though there are over 26 now (we tried the white chocolate macademia), they don't have anything on chocolate vanilla twist! I sat in the car with napkins on my lap catching the occasional shower of chocolate sprinkles (they still don't skimp!), momentarily transported to a place where it didn't matter much if I spilled food.

Chocolate sprinkle cones from Twistee Treat still RULE!

Anniversary of a Storm

This time one year ago, we were not-so-cautiously emerging from the hallway fort where we'd huddled during the worst of Charlie, listening to the eerie howling of the wind and the thud and tumble of oak branches on our roof. Scott recklessly picked his way through the backyard and over the fence to see what had become of the boat (I hung back, nervously training a battery-powered lantern on him), but all we could see was debris. In the next hour, shouting in the street and the buzz of chainsaws alerted us that neighbors were about, cutting an opening for one man to drive his truck through and check on his animals. I don't know how he got through; the next day we found the main road still blocked by fallen trees in both directions. The whole scene was bizarre, surreal, and yet oddly novel, so for the first two days I took photos and wonderingly documented the experience.

The next three weeks felt like being disconnected from the World. The Olympics came and went. By the time our phone, internet and cable services were restored, even the news stories and t.v. documentaries on the storm had played out. It was like we'd lived the last three weeks in an alternate dimension, the rest of the world going on around us while we struggled with cleaning up and getting back to "normal".

So when they announced that Frances was coming, I sank into a dread that deepened into depression over the five excruciatingly long days it took for the storm to arrive. It was slow torture; I cried BRING IT ON! echoing the sentiments scrawled and spray-painted on so many boarded up windows. One night, on the way home from a canned goods run, I was thinking, "I can't do it again" when we drove past the little neighborhood church. The marquee read, "I will never leave you nor forsake you."

Three weeks later came Hurricane Jeanne. But somewhere between Frances and Jeanne, I experienced a shift. Here's what I typed in my journal while I waited for the storm to arrive:

I am very distressed by the writings of people saying that the storms are the wrath of God on believers for our sin and hypocrisy. Perhaps this is true; perhaps it is the lesson that they are learning. Everything that happens is an opportunity to grow and learn; but I believe God can use the same events to teach people differently, meeting them at the place they need to grow.

When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. Instead of seeing the storms as God’s wrath, what if we saw the many ways he has spared and protected us as his favor? What if we could thank him for the things we learned about ourselves, about him and others in crises? What if we praised him for his faithfulness throughout? Here are some things I’ve learned.

Hurricane Charley took me by surprise. Frances paralyzed me, because I had experienced the disruption, disorientation and disconnection resulting from Charley and feared what could be in store. Had the storms stopped then, I would not have learned my greatest lessons and experienced the peace that I have now, even in the midst of anxious anticipation of Jeanne. Fear and depression would have been my model for anticipating future storms. Awaiting Jeanne, I learned a new model of peaceful preparation that will be how I approach future storms (and I hope all crises in my life). I have learned that I am stronger than I think.

#1: It’s Not About Me
I’ve realized that it’s not about me: the storm is not coming to get me, punish me, ruin my business and disrupt my life. It would come whether I lived here or not! The world does not revolve around me or have me at the center of its intent. Even when it feels like it!

(Job didn’t suffer b/c God questioned his faith; he suffered b/c the devil did! Job learned from it… but the cause was NOT about him!)

#2: The Earth Is the Lord’s and Everything In It
God made the earth. He created it in all its intricate, sophisticated detail. Even the weather is organized according to scientific systems and patterns he ordained. Yes, God can supernaturally intervene to cause or calm storms. But suppose this is simply the weather behaving according to its brilliant design. Do I question the sovereignty and judgment of the one who designed it? If all weather is the sign of God’s pleasure or anger, then he must have mood swings every day! Remember #1: everything is not about me.

#3: Whether I Live or Die, I Am the Lord’s
My well-being does not depend on the weather. It does not depend on how well my business recovers in the wake of three storms. At the essential level, nothing has changed. God hasn’t changed, who I am hasn’t changed, nothing truly important has changed. When I look at it closely, even my circumstances have essentially not changed. This realization gives me peace, even joy (as I began writing this, I was bopping around doing hurricane prep chores to praise music). I have a strong center, a rock. My well-being does not depend on how I feel… in fact, it doesn’t even depend on whether I live or die!

So, for me these hurricanes were a wake-up call and a lesson… but not the punishment of a vindictive God. I don’t fear him for them; I’ve had it out like Job and I love him for it.

My theme song was "I get knocked down / but I get up again / they're never gonna keep me down!" And if nothing else, I'm now experienced in using a chainsaw (although Scott has to start it for me) and cooking on the grill (we even baked cookies!)!

A Major Award

It's a Major Award!

-from A Christmas Story

So tonight I'm having dinner when Scott comes home from work, walks over to the table, and casually places a small, flat disc next to my plate. "What's this?" I ask. "An award," he says over his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen.

Scott earned an award! I jumped right up, kissed and congratulated him. He doesn't like to make a fuss; but I know this to be an old wound and pattern, so I hooted, "oh no, you're not getting away with that!" and pressed him eagerly for details. Turns out they hoodwinked him into attending a meeting this morning as a "seat filler"... only when he walked in there were about 100 people there, to which he thought, "well, this ain't right" (he's got an internal what's-wrong-with-this-picture radar). After some introductory remarks, he and three others were called by name and presented with medallions by the Air Force colonel in command of the project, for making "great strides" in its development. I told him how impressed I am with him and generally made all the fuss he deserved--he matters, and somebody noticed (which he realized for himself). The really cool part was that, while he insisted it wasn't as big a deal as I thought, he was smiling and clearly enjoying the attention. He's getting better that way; used to be he'd let a couple of days go buy before mentioning that he'd earned a spot award, and a week before telling me he'd received a raise! And if I showered him with attention, he'd get embarassed or angry.

So then he calls his parents to make some arrangements for tomorrow, and says not word one about it! Naturally I called them right back and told them, then handed the phone back so he could hear their congratulations (note to groupies: of course his mom used the "P" word!).

To celebrate I whipped up his favorite homemade ice cream, Ben & Jerry's sweet cream recipe with chopped up Reese's cups. Normally he helps me but I wanted him to feel treated, and he let me.

The medallion is pretty cool. It's pewter; one side has an eagle on a white starburst and the words "Presented by the Commander", and the other depicts JASSM on a background of four shades of blue enamel. They're a limited edition and Scott's is numbered 126.

Two cubic feet

We got a new refrigerator. It's amazing the difference two cubic feet make!

We've been talking about getting a new fridge ever since the day I spent cleaning out the old one left behind by the previous homeowners, so revolted by layers of gunk I was in tears. We talked about it after each of the half-dozen times we had to throw out spoiled food and start over, because one of the doors failed to close properly. And we talked about it when we got our fridge, the fully-loaded year-old one we hauled here all the way from New Mexico, out of storage only to find that it was too large for the space in our 1957-built kitchen! But every time we tried to shop for a new fridge, the timing was wrong; we couldn't agree on features or a budget, and ultimately came to the conclusion that as long as the old one worked, we'd be better off saving the money.

A couple of half-gallons of milk ago, nearly four years after moving into the house, Scott noticed that food was going bad before the expiration date, drinks weren't cold anymore, and the unit itself never stopped running (which he thinks contributed to a high electric bill). Leave it to the detail man; like the proverbial frog in the pot, I wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't pointed it out!

The timing was finally right (i.e., our hands were forced), but we still didn't agree on a replacement: an inexpensive base model to tide us over, or a nicer one to last? I didn't think our budget could take the hit (especially on the heels of Arrow's unexpected surgery). Then on the last stop in our hunt, everything fell into place. We found the exact model we had considered at the scratch-n-dent as a floor model clearance for $200 less--half off the original price! Scott got his ice maker and water dispenser, I got my top-mount freezer and stainless steel doors, and it's a KitchenAid--all for a price we expected to pay for a basic model. Looking back at how one thing led to another, I'm convinced everything happened in the order it needed to happen (even to the order we visited each store). I've never been so thrilled (and at peace, with myself and Scott) with a major purchase. The Hand of Providence!

Now, if only I liked grocery shopping...

Our deepest fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

Nelson Mandela

I remember when, in order to compliment someone, I would declare myself to be less able in that area than s/he was... or to receive a compliment from someone else, I would have to compliment them in return, or demure and say it was God... I know now that while God gave me ability, I am the one who has to act on it! So I've learned to say simply Thank You, and it is always enough.