Posts from the ‘Deep Thoughts By Sista’ Category

Saturday Words of Wisdom

Funny, yet profound quote from this morning…

#2 is watching The Three Stooges.  Curly says “If at first you don’t succeed, keep on succin’ til ya do succeed.”

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Of course, we laughed cause Curly said it but I got to thinking…Curly was right.   Did they even say things “sucked” back in the 30’s?  When did that phrase originate?

Anyway, who woulda thought Curly was such a philospher?

Dot Connecting

I guess I could actually blog some words, huh?

Blogging has indeed been light of late.  It’s not that I don’t have anything to say (I usually have something) but life has been in the way. 

I started working.  Do I like it?  Not really.  I  know I should be grateful and I am but the paycheck that came was frighteningly squattage and it sent me into a tailspin of the Blues. 

Back when that “dream” job appeared out of thin air, I took it because I thought I would be stupid not to.  If you have just joined us, the Dream Job lasted 6 weeks.  Not only did I lose my job, but, a number of others there did.  I’m really glad to not be there any longer, but, at the same time, I am starting to feel punished for giving up my State job to take a higher paying  job because now….I’m making less than I made at the State.  AND having to work a lot harder. 

Call me “spoiled”….but it sucks.   I do feel like I’m being punished for taking a chance and my mother’s lifelong warnings of not doing such have come true. 

A friend said something to me yesterday about all this though, that has made me think.  It was so profound, I can’t quite wrap my head around it, but, I know it was one of those things I’ll look back on and remember as a key point in this whole journey. 

I was talking to this person about how there is something I would LOVE to attempt but because of circumstances, individuals who are no longer in my general circumference because of annoying things like death and divorce… I feel like I have no access to explore  this particular area.  This friend  said to me that the answer lies within people and circumstances that present now, not things that are no longer available.

He also said this to me: 

“likewise i have a feeling that the possibilities of your taking that passion of yours and turning it into a blessing for yourself and others will come from attributes that are already present within you and opportunities that are within your reach right now”

This line of thought can apply to anybody and anything.  I’m so glad I had that little chat with my pal .  I was in terrible need of a fresh perspective and a vision.  He said something about having the “intellect to connect the dots” and I said that was the hard part and he said…

“If  it was easy it would be boring  and not worth near as much”

Just kinda blew me away…I needed it badly. 

 

The Economy and Stuff

As I’ve been sitting in Training this week with 9 other people, most of whom have been victims of layoffs, most of us struggling to survive and doing what we can to tread water, as well as my own experience the last three months as a single woman trying to get by,  I’ve thought about a lot of things.

One of the guys used to own his own finance company.  Read that again…he OWNED his own finance company.  Has worked for large corporations as this big shot, finance guy.  He is now, like me, training for a job he is way over-qualified for.

Another guy, a young guy in his mid to late 20’s is an architect.

Another guy is an electrical engineer and  has just returned from his second deployment in Iraq within the last several weeks.  You want to talk about HUMBLING, listening to Eric describe the numerous times his life was in danger, dealing with riots in an Iraqi prison, and all these things that are just about impossible for a dufus like me to wrap my head around.  I would say Eric is probably not even 30 years old. 

A young lady in my class, a little, teeny tiny woman originally from Guyana, who made her way to the United States, is also a military veteran, is a college graduate…

Another lady, probably in her mid to late 50’s, retired from working for the Government, took another job in the insurance business, is responsible for caring for her elderly mother and will be working the overnight shift.

There’s yet another young lady, who moved here to work for a very large company.  Packed up from her hometown in South Alabama, leaving her family and friends, getting an apartment here only to get laid off three months later. 

The thought has occurred to me this week listening to my co-workers tell their stories of struggle and trying to figure out what to do in these lean times and the constant news reports of how bad the economy is, all the people losing their jobs, etc….and this may sound weird but I think it’s probably good that we’re going through this Recession/Pre-Depression/Whatever You Wanna Call It. 

I don’t know what I’m trying to say and I’m certainly not an expert on talking about the dang economy and all that, but, I think maybe it’s good for the people of my generation to experience this stuff. 

 So many people in my general age group (that could be anybody born after say, 1960 on up to 1980) have never had any sorta clue what it’s like to struggle.  Our generation had everything.  I look at my own kids.  They certainly don’t live in a mansion but my word-they have no idea how lucky they are to have what they have. 

I’ve always been amazed at young people, not far out of college who have homes and lifestyles that it took their parents years of hard work to obtain.  It’s always been unsettling to me and it seemed like something was not quite right about it.  What is there to work for and dream for  when you have “everything” so young?

I’m not what you would call smart about stuff like this and I will tell you I’ve looked at many people my age who live quite well with a fair amount of envy.  Then again, I feel like maybe, my lack of riches as an adult, lack of credit cards (thank you, Jesus that a tiny taste of that was all I needed to know I didn’t want that)-as an adult, if I didn’t have the cash for it, I didn’t get it.  Plain and simple.  I’m not patting myself on the back by any stretch or saying everybody should use ME as their financial example cause that’s not it.  God knows I could use a lesson or two in budgeting.  I’m still flying by the seat of my pants with that.

I know that the Economy thing will eventually turn around.  I don’t know when or how or what, but, nothing ever stays the same.  It will go back up and I hope people will learn that maybe credit isn’t always the best way to do stuff, ya know?  And that the One With The Most Toys doesn’t really win anything but a lot of debt, stress, marital problems, despair, etc. etc. etc.

And I am once again disclaiming my ability to say anything about important stuff like the economy.  I’m very hopeful for our country, our Powers That Be, my own situation and future and am glad that God is in control. 

And I’m REALLY glad to be back amongst the employed people and hope that I will never forget those dark days of December and January, sitting here in my ever-so-humble, but very comfortable dwelling, wondering what in the world I was going to do next.  I don’t ever want to forget my wonderful family and extended family and how they helped me.  I hope and pray I will someday be able to do the same thing for somebody like they did me. 

More importantly, I don’t want to forget that even though I had some very dark days since December 5, I knew that God was going to provide for me.  Didn’t know how, but, I know from experience He’s pretty dang creative and has a way better imagination than I’ve got.   He’s done things for me I could’ve never thought of.  He’s bigger and greater to me now than ever.  I’m not out of my hole yet, but I can at least see that it’s not quite as deep as it appeared to be.

Today Is Tuesday

Today is Tuesday, you know what that means…we’re gonna sing a Tuesday song!

I wanted to be a Mouseketeer SOOO bad at one point. I’m not talking 70’s Mouseketeers or Justin Timberlake Mouseketeer….I wanted to be one with Karen and Cubby, Annette, Tommy, Cheryl, Jimmie, Bobby and Cissy….no wait…Cissy was Bobby’s partner on Lawrence Welk. ANYHOO, I wanted to be one.

Oh, and I need my medicine. I haven’t filled my ADD medicine that I’m out of because it is expensive and I dont have insurance at the moment. I’m liable to zip from one subject to the other at the drop of a…..

My old friend Eric sent me a copy of his documentary Everyone But You.  It is my mission to make sure everybody sees this movie, especially my own kids who have dreams of making a life in music.  This thing is so brilliant and beautiful and real, it should be required viewing for all the music biz students at every college in the country.

There were so many things in this movie that made me laugh so loud and then there were several things that made me cry.  After nearly 20 years of being married to a recording artist/musician/songwriter/etc./etc so many things in this hit home with me.  And on the other hand, my own self, being a stifled, frustrated artist…I totally got it.

I’m so proud of Eric for doing this and I hope he’ll keep hawkin’ it even though he has to work for food and stuff.  It inspires the crap outta me.  Thank you for sharing it, mah friend. 

I had the thought today, too…what if I get a Booty Call and they get a busy signal or no answer?  Just sayin’….

Ok, lets see what else?  Oh…look at this picture of my beautiful daughter:

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My new favorite piece of music I heard today?  Tu Vo Fa L’Americano by the Puppini Sisters.

Oh and the best news I got today?   I start working Monday.  Thank you, Jesus.

Oscar Babblings

People from India are not Americans, but, I suppose they are natives of some sort.  The question is, is it “proper” to call them “Indians?”  Or will the PC Poo-leece come after me?   (Not that I care but you know…)

My boyfriend Jimmy Kimmel brought up a really good point last night on his Post-Oscar broadcast…they brought those kids that were in Slumdog Millionaire to Hollywood for the ceremony but can you imagine how hard it will be for them to return after that????

I love Hugh Jackman.

I wanted Mickey Rourke to win.

Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Doo Rag should’ve disqualified him for even being nominated. 

Oh and speaking of PSH, I’m not gonna point fingers but did notice on one of our local news channels (:cough: WKRN:cough:) they were running graphics on nominees and they spelled “Seymour” wrong.  Don’t mean to split hairs but if you’re gonna do a job like that, it might behoove one to do the homework?  Or am I just being silly?

I was a bit comforted to see Sean Penn whip out his “cheaters” to read his speech cause anymore, I can’t read nothing without mine.   He’s older than me, yes, but,  it made the whole Cheater thing ok to see Jeff Spicoli needing some help reading.

Sophia Loren and Shirley MacLaine make Senior Citizenry not look all that bad.n  And Meryl Streep too.  Dadgum.

The In Memoriam segment was kinda lame.  It lacked the “awwww” factor because of the way they timed the clips and photos. They should’ve asked me to do the Power Point on that.  Gah.

 

Discuss.

In Which I Am Very Vague

You know how there are those occasions you are hit with a brutal reality that you knew was there, but, at the same time, it wasn’t an issue because it was never really brought up and you didn’t really think a whole lot about it because it was something you never saw with your own eyes?

Then, when you are reminded of Said Brutal Realities you go “Ohhhhhhhhhhh.  So THAT’S the deal?”  Then everything makes perfect sense and you feel like a huge weight has been lifted and that you really weren’t losing your mind after all?

I love it when that happens.  I just hate that I didn’t figure it out way sooner cause it woulda saved me a lotta mental energy.  Or maybe I knew it, but, just didn’t want to know that was the deal.

The Night Before The Night Before Christmas…

I don’t know what I was thinking this evening when I had this thought:

“I think I’ll just run into Wal Mart.”

It was when I walked into the Rivergate Wal Mart on Christmas Eve Eve that I was reminded of a couple things:

I really have been a little “detached” from Christmas shopping this year. I’ve done some but not like I’ve done in years past.  That’s one of the pluses about the kids being older.  Teens have more expensive wishes, but, as a rule, it requires much less “put-togetherness”. 

Had I not been so detached from the Shoppingpalooza, I would have thought better than to go into Wal Mart at 7:00 on the 23rd of December.  Baaaaad choice.

The Rivergate Wal Mart IS the Armpit and Groin Lent of Nashville-Never in my life have I smelt as strong an odor of cigarette smoke and seen more women in DIRE need of root touchups, poor grammar, baggy britches….it’s good in ‘da hood, boys and girls.

This whole holiday season has been a plethora of visiting with old friends.  I got to visit a little bit today with my good friend from 3rd and 4th grade, Kelly and loved seeing her and her kids. 009

Look at her beautiful, blue eyes, y’all.  I had forgotten how blue her eyes were.   (Note to self…scan photos of Dance Recital in 1978 in which Kelly and I both wore heinous costumes to give readers a REALLY good belly laugh)

Kelly gave me this Woodstock Christmas ornament in 1979 and it has hung on my Christmas tree every year since.  It’s made of some sort of ceramic and I’m really surprised it hasn’t broken in all these years.  One of my favorite ornaments. 

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Stuff like getting to visit with Kelly today are the things I love most about Christmas.  Forget the standing in line at Wal Mart and busting your bank account….for me, besides the whole Jesus’ Birthday thing, it’s about getting to visit with the Kelly’s in our lives and remembering.

I went out to Cool Springs tonight for a gathering of people who went to Brentwood and Franklin High Schools (thank you for organizing, Paige!) courtesy of Facebook. 

I ran into a kid I have not seen since probably 6th grade. 

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 Donald and I were in Elementary school together all the way through, but, I remember him being in my  5th grade class, especially.   I told him that one of my most warmest, fuzziest memories of childhood, (back when life was good, before the dreaded Puberty Monster hit, before cancer, car accidents came and I got hip to realities of life ) was at Christmas that year, our entire class went to Donald’s house and then went caroling. 

 Donald’s mom was one of these just fabulous, June Cleaver kinda moms, and that evening is one of those things I’ve always remembered and often wished I could escape back into.  He had no recollection of the event at all, but,  I told him to be sure and tell his Mama I’ve always remembered being in her home at Christmastime. 

THAT is the kinda feeling I’ve always tried to create at Christmas with my own family.  Just like what was in my home, especially those last few days before Christmas.   Warm, fuzzy, magical…the lights all seem to have a different glow. 

I’m praying that my kids, even though this Christmas has found our lives rearranged and different…I hope there is still some of that element for them.

There She Goes Again…

Sometimes I wish I were an anonymous blogger like Kate, who so beautifully tells stuff that’s going on, yet, we (at least I) have NO clue who she is.  I relate to a lot of the things she tells, as do a lot of people, I’m sure.

Yeah, I know all about Live Journal and other places one can blog stuff that either nobody or certain people can see.  I know all that.  I’ve tried that.  Something about it, is uncomfortable to me.  Don’t know why. 

Honestly, the biggest problem I have with multiple blogs is the multiple passwords.  I can barely keep up with signing in here. I like this being my place, ya know?  I mean, this here’s my little spot on the World Wide Web.  Sometimes (most times) I talk about insignifigant, boring junk, but, there are times, (like now) I wish I could get your input on some things, but, it is such, that I can’t, for a myriad of reasons.  My heart is full of stuff at the moment but it’s just not one of those things I can broadcast.  I’ve taken to carrying a little spiral notebook with me that I can jot down some of these things in as a means of something…I dont know what.  That’s helpful.  One thing I’ve learned from that intimate sort of journaling is that what we feel is not necessarily what is so cause feelings change from moment to moment.   Learning to differentiate “feeling”  from emotion.  I don’t know if that makes a lick of sense. 

One thing I can tell you here, that I don’t know that I’ve ever told here (but there are a couple people I’ve told and they seem flabbergasted) but I’ll tell you a little blogging secret about me:

I HATE the name “Sista Smiff.” 

I don’t hate the “Smiff” part.  I never had a nickname or nothing and I got that in my late 20’s and I like that ok.  But really, Smiff isn’t who I am.  That was a variation on my married name.  That’s not any sort of jab at my soon-to-be-ex husband or anything like that.  It’s not about him or anybody else.  It’s ALL about me, ya know.

Yeah, I know that was a name I gave myself when I started blogging long time ago in a spur of the moment, spontaneous, “What do I call this?” thing.  But, when somebody calls me “Sista” out in the real world?  I cringe.  I don’t know if it’s the same sorta cringe I get when I’m sung “Happy Birthday” to (I have never posted that picture but I must.  I HATE to have Happy Birthday sung to me.

  At my 5th birthday party, when it was sung to me, I hid behind a coat rack and a photo was taken of me.  Y’all would love that)  It’s almost like the cringe I got in 5th grade when I wrote this really lovely poem.  It was very spiritual and quite deep for a 10 year old, but, I cringed when it was hung in the hallway for the world to see.   I was embarrassed. 

I think it’s the same sort of cringe I used to get (not as much now) when I would recall a specific date or name of something and my family, or whoever, would marvel at my memory. 

Or in 1st grade, when I was sent to 2nd grade for Reading cause I read so well.  I was embarassed as hell by that.  Not by my 1st grade peers.  I don’t know what it was that mortified me so about it, but, I was really embarrassed.

I’ve always been embarrassed by my talents.  I’ve never quite figured out what to do with what I perceived for many years was weirdness.  I wanted to be a songwriter.  Did y’all ever know that?  I did  I dabbled in it a little, but, never got comfortable with opening up.  Same with singing.  I can sing but when I open my mouth in public (unless I’m doing a harmony part or something like that and can hide behind others) I don’t sound like I can carry a tune in a bucket. 

I’ll never forget when I was about 21, a newlywed and having a conversation with my mother in law and brother in law…both of whom are great songwriters.  I somehow let it out of the bag that I wanted to write songs and said how I’d always heard songs in my head…words, melodies….and just assumed everybody did.  I remember Hazel looking at me and saying…”No, Honey…not everybody hears songs in their head.” She went on to say how Harlan Howard used to say that songs were “floating around up there” and you had to reach up and grab them.

Why don’t I try to write songs anymore?  Cause I quit hearing them in my head and that really makes me sad.  Every now and then, a stray melody appears (happened today actually).  I quit trying because I was scared of it.  That’s so ridiculous. 

I was watching that show Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew?  (Gawsh, I love him!)  Tawny Kitaen was telling how she came by that name….Tawny.  Her real name is Julie (trivia!) but when she was 12, her parents divorced and she moved to a new school.  She saw this kid on the way to school the first day named “Tawny” and she decided that’s who she wanted to be.  They went through this whole thing about how she wanted to be somebody else and part of her addiction problem is not being herself or something.

This is another one of those rambling, meandering pontifications that I do from time to time that I have no idea why I’m telling this or where it’s going.  I can say that it is definitely taking the place of some deep, navel gazing thoughts I’m not comfortable sharing here at this point, although I wish I were. 

I guess some things we have to figure out in private.  There are things we have to figure out that’s between us and a select few in our lives or us and God.

Elections and Revelations

If I lived as long as Barack Obama’s Grandma lived and then died the day before my grandson was elected President, I’d have to have a little talk with Jesus about that.

Speaking of the Election, Yo Sista is one of those 5% of voters who is not decided as for who I’m going to vote for tomorrow.  I said I didn’t know if I was even going to because of said quandry, but, Cherry said “You HAVE to vote!”

Is it responsible to go into the booth and close my eyes and point at a button?  I don’t think so.  What does one do when this happens?  Write myself in? 

 For real…what do ya do when this happens?  I’ve never had this happen before and I have voted in every Presidential election I’ve been eligible to vote in.

I’m getting lots of questions about my “Revelation.”  I don’t know if I can blog that or not.  My preacher reads this blog.  HAR.

In Which I Use A Few Too Many Metaphors…

I feel like somebody took my innards and just tied ’em up in a big ol’ double knot.

Do I roll with it and just untie the stupid thing and let it straighten itself out by doing what it needs to do or do I just sit on it and keep the knot tied and just get used to that uncomfortable feeling until I’m numb to it and it doesn’t bother me anymore?

I think the first option is what I’m supposed to do, according to the counselor. But, if I do that, then I’ll be all sad and blue and I don’t want to be. Sad and blue is not attractive and it makes others around you uncomfortable. I like everybody to be happy and comfortable. If I’m out of sorts, then it will be obvious.

No, just go on and get your mind on something else and avoid dealing with the knot. My pain tolerance is high. I can suck it up and pretend I don’t hurt.

Then again, maybe if I let it out of its cage, it might get kinda ugly for a little bit. It might get downright nasty getting down to the nitty gritty and getting all the yuck out but maybe…just maybe….once all that junk gets a good scrubbing….gets out, maybe, just maybe, the knot will loosen and everything will start working normally again better. Hmmm…thats quite a concept.

That knot has kinda begun to interefere with my regularity. I really don’t want Jamie Lee Curtis to show up with some of that yogurt thats supposed to make you reggalar. (Sorry if thats TMI) Not just THAT reggalarity but all around and in general. It’s getting on my nerves.

I think I’m ready to get busy healin’ up sos I can get on with it.

Heaven’s Gates Are Open Wide

I don’t know what posessed me to put that video up early this morning of the Gaither Vocal Band singing Jesus Loves Me. Maybe it was to prepare me for a phone conversation I had to have this evening.

My mom calls me, sounded a little frantic “Mary [her sister in law] called and left a message. Said it’s bad news. I’m ‘fraid my brother’s gone.”

Her brother is 86 years old and has been blessed with pretty good health considering his age and the one-after-the-other tragedies he and his wife have experienced since 1994:

1-Only daughter dies unexpectedly of pneumonia after surgery. I think she was 40-41 years old.
2-Oldest son gets lung cancer. Goes through treatment. Things look good. Then, about a year later, I think it was on a Wednesday, they discovered it was in his liver. He had worked that day. Was dead by that Saturday. I think he was 52 or 53.
3-3 years later, their other son commits suicide.
4-2 years later, daughter in law, wife of oldest son dies of Lou Gehrig’s Disease.
5-Last year, daughter in law, wife of son that died in 2003 dies of cancer. Two late teen/early 20ish sons.

My mother only has a cell phone for long distance. She doesn’t keep the thing charged or on. She doesn’t even have a long distance carrier on her regular phone anymore. So, she calls me and asks me to call Mary. I am dreading this. I’m thinking that if my Uncle Nootsie (nickname) has passed, I am going to have to talk to his wife of 60+ years and it’s gonna be painful. Then, I’m thinking “Oh geez, I am going to have to call Mom and tell her that she is now the sole surviving Sullivan Kid.”

I’m dreading this call, but, at the same time, I’m thinking “Damn…Nootsie’s 86 years old. If he’s gone, then he didn’t suffer. It was probably his heart. He probably mowed his grass recently. A life well lived.”

Something told me though, as I dialed the phone and got the busy signal that it probably wasn’t Nootsie. This was confirmed when my Uncle answered the phone (and sounded eeerily like my mother when she first wakes up and hasn’t had coffee yet) and proceeded to tell me that Steven, his oldest grandchild, was killed in a car wreck today.

You want to hear something absolutely GUT wrenching, listen to an 86 year old man, who has been walking around with a piece of shrapnel in his head since WWII and has a Purple Heart, break down and cry uncontrollably on the phone and then pass the phone to his wife because he can’t say anymore.

Then, I talk to my Aunt Mary, who is crying and I’m thinking “Holy crap…what do you say to this???” I’m not believing what I’m hearing. It’s bad enough to outlive ONE of your children, much less THREE, plus two daughters in law that have been in your family for so long, it’s almost like you gave birth to them, and now their oldest grandchildm the same kid that was born the same week my grandfather died in 1971 and carried his middle name. What the hell????

How is it that Steven took his wife some lunch today at home because she was sick and now he’s dead? Left no skidmarks. Died on impact. And his younger brother and sister now are the only two left in that family? This young guy, who isn’t even 30 yet, helped care for his mother as she suffered that horrendous disease has to call his grandparents, as they’re sitting down for dinner to tell them that once again…….

That same Steven that we used to call “Stevie” who was probably one THE absolute most adorable little boys I’ve ever seen. I haven’t seen Steven since he was about 15. I’ve seen pictures but my picture of him is this kid right here with my sister in about…oh 1977 or 78-
Little Stevie…I think of him as about 3 or 4…with his pajamas with the rhinoceros on it and we’d ask him repeatedly….”Stevie…whats that on your pajamas?” We wanted to hear him say…again….”Ith a bunotheroth.”

So, there I am on the phone with my aunt….listening to her cry, talking about what a good husband Steven was and how crazy he and his wife were about each other…She asks how I am. I can’t quite describe how it humbled me when she asked, yet, I was a little hesitant because sheesh…I have NOTHING to complain about. Humbling because she stopped crying for a minute to ask about each kid by name, etc.

Then, I have to call my mother. She answers the phone and I can tell she’s been crying.
“Well…it’s not Nootsie.”

“Who is it?” she asked me.

“Stevie.”

“What happened?”

I tell her and she hollers “No! HOW MUCH MORE CAN THEY TAKE? THIS CAN’T BE! etc. etc ”

I haven’t heard my mother let loose like that since…gosh….I was probably a little kid. Mom tends to hold her emotions in. Oddly enough, I was glad to hear her do that.

But, it absolutely sucks. It would have been easier to tell her it was her brother, I think.

Consider The Lilies

It was fun to see the guesses people made about what my large news is.

No, Gingah, I am not coming out of the claw-zit.  God knows that there idn’t a thing about me that exciting or interesting.  Yo Sista is not gay. 

That wacky Linda suggested perhaps my large news was that I finally made it out of the Flying Saucer parking lot.  Har-dee-har-har-har.  (Y’all wondered why I didn’t come to the last FS shindig. HA.  It gives me nightmares just thinking about the evening I spent alone…late at night in the Flying Saucer parking lot.  I don’t think I even blogged that experience.  It’s funny now but at the time it wasn’t. I wasn’t even drunk. It woulda been less embarrassing had I been. I need a Designated Driver for the Flying Saucer because I’m obviously a moron with parking lot machines)

Busy Mom had an interesting guess…that I had entered the Convent.  Maybe we won’t rule that possibility out at a later date. 

I did ask Miz Biz, since she is the most Catholic of the Catholic people I know, to give me a Sister name, preferably French.  She did not disappoint-

Sister Mary Voulez Vous Coucher Avec Moi

No, Bridget…not a house.  (The thought of me walking into a lending institution right now and asking for a loan is funnier to me than my Saint name.  The bank people would need Depends from laughing so hard at that thought. HAR)

The Large News is thus:

I have a new job.  A new job that I was not looking for.  I mean, I had not searched anything for a new job.  I figured now would be pointless to even think about looking for a new job.

This whole process of moving and all that’s gone along with it has been a step out in faith for me.  I felt from the git-go that if this was what I was supposed to be doing, God was gonna make a way cause, well, He’s sorta in the Way-Making business.  Every step has had His handprint all over it, from the place I ended up, to the truck, to my couch, down to the towels we dry off with…it just all fell into place. 

So, as much as I like the work I’ve been doing the last year and a half, it doesn’t pay squat.  Even so, I was not looking for a job. 

A week ago this past Friday evening, I got on My Space.  There was a message with a subject line that said “I Am Looking For An Administrative Assistant.”  My first thought was “Yeah, RIGHT.”

I read the message and the person didn’t ask if I wanted to chat or nothing.  He actually said “If you or anybody you know” is looking.  Pervs don’t usually use that phrase.  I read on and it was for real sounding so I answered back. 

To shorten it, me and this guy emailed back and forth a few times, I had a phone interview and set up a time for me to come out to the office and interview and dadgum it, Doo….I done got maself a dadgum job.  And the thing is…this Dadgum Job pays TWICE as much as what I am making at the moment. 

Not only that, this job (AA to a VP of Sales) has a lot more future than the one I have.  I like what I do and it’s a shame there isn’t more of a future in it, but, reality is reality.   I am pretty excited.  (And yes…this is a legit company with benefits and it’s not Sales of Sex toys or anything like that.)

I have an office!  When I was driving to it the other day, I passed where Kate worked and got excited and thought “Oh wow, we’ll be neighbors!” and then remembered she just left.  I’m talking across the street, too!  It’s just a really good opportunity all around that I would be foolish to not jump at.  I’m still unbelieving how it all came about and dropped into my lap. 

I will miss my peeps I work with, but, they are all happy for me.  They are good people that are probably some of the best people I’ve ever worked with.  I will have to drive to Cool Springs everyday from Hendersonville, but, it’s not that bad of a drive.  I grew up a stones throw from my new office and actually, used to work across Moore’s Lane 20 years ago. 

There’s a Full-Circle-ish sorta thing about that and I get a bit of a warm fuzzy knowing I’ll be in a familiar area, although when I worked/lived near Cool Springs way back, it wasn’t nothing but a big field.  I’ll be making enough money that it will be worth the drive (yes, I know money isn’t the only reason to take a position.  Believe you me…I learned that a number of years ago the HARD way) but more than any of that, I will be able to pay my bills, take care of myself and my family and not have to worry about getting evicted cause I can’t pay my rent. 

Brad…the new boss, said “I want you to hold your head high.”  Unbelievable. 

Brad strikes me as a similar type guy as the Gentleman Formerly Known As My Boss. I asked him if he was a Micromanager.  He just laughed. 

The thing is that I could have never come up with this.  I’d have never dreamed I’d get a job off My Space.  I’d have never dreamed I would have a really great opportunity like this, at this particular point and time.  I may hate it.  They may hate me.  Who knows? 

I usually cringe when I hear the phrase “God Thing” but really…it just is. 

 

***I usually don’t go back in and add to posts, but, I left something out about the whole thing of God making a way and providing for our needs.  I got my check stub in the mail the other day.  Y’all would faint if you saw how little my two week pay was.  It was coming up on my first time to pay rent and I sorta choked on that and realized that ok, I have $25 to live on the next two weeks.  Yee haw. 

I got home yesterday and got my mail and there was a card from a very dear, longtime friend that I don’t talk to a whole lot.  Sweet note from her and there was a gift card in it to Wal Mart for $50.  I started laughing and crying at the same time at how my “Imaginary Friend” tends to provide for me and knows what I need. 

 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. 23Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. 24Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! 25Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life[b]? 26Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?

 27“Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 28If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! 29And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. 30For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. 31But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.

Nobody Teaches Us How To Grow Old

I was driving down Gallatin Rd. yesterday during lunchtime.  That is one busy road.  It’s not exactly the kinda road one would want to purposely go out and stroll on, although that area has a lot of residents who have to either rely on public transportation or their own two feet to get around. 

I have frequented that part of town a lot over the last 20 years.  I lived off Gallatin Rd. for 5 1/2 years.  I’ve seen all sortsa types of folks crossing that road.  I’ve seen various shapes, sizes, colors, means of crossing, including a guy in a wheelchair with no legs more than once…I’d be scared to death to try to get from the Piccadilly side of Gallatin Rd. to Jenna’s Toybox, myself.

Anyway, I was driving down the road and I saw this older lady in one of those Hoveround things.  I assume this lady is a resident of that Senior apartment complex there behind what used to be Col. Tom Parker’s office.   She was probably at least 75-80 years old.  She was fairly well dressed, had her coif nicely done (betchya she sleeps with toilet paper on her head between her Friday Hair Washin’s). 

One look at the woman you could tell her health is probably not the best it’s ever been, but, considering her age, she’s not doing too bad.  I would imagine her kids probably took her wheels away from her at some point and if she decides she wants to run over to the bank or to the Piccadilly or wherever, she has to rely on the transportation from the complex in which she lives or one of her children has to drive her around.

So, here was this lady, in her Hoverround, waiting to cross Gallatin Rd. My first thought was “What in the world is that woman doing out here on Gallatin Rd. trying to cross this ridiculously busy street in one of those things for?  What is wrong with her??” I wondered if her children and grandchildren had any clue that Maw Maw was crossing Gallatin Rd., zig-zaggin in and out of traffic.  I had a vision of my mother (who will be 74 in a couple of months) doing such a thing.  My mother will barely leave her house in her own vehicle, much less a battery operated contraption like that.

As quick as I had that thought, the thought occurred to me that Hoveround Lady musta wanted to go somewhere and she decided that she wasn’t gonna let a silly little thing like not being able to drive stop her, no sirree.  Where’s my wheels?  Brang ’em here, I want some of that Carrot Souffle’ at the Piccadilly! I was suddenly in awe and admiration of this nameless woman for having lots of cajones. 

The whole scene also made me think about the fact that the good Lawd willin’, I’m going to be that Senior-aged woman (shut up, Much Younger Friends who haven’t even crossed into 30 yet).  I’m just stubborn enough that if I want something bad enough (not Carrot Souffle’ though) I will knock you down til I get whatever it is I’m after.  I don’t like the idea of carpooling to work in a gas shortage because that messes with my independence.  I sho nuff bet at that age, I will resent having to depend on somebody to haul me around.

It’s a scary thought, Old Age.  It’s scary to me that the same turd who left a smart alecky comment on my blog post about him (I told him I would not mention him again on here since he was so offended.  I removed his second comment ‘fo most of you had the chance to see it.)…that same kid, along with the help of the Drama Queen and #2 will someday be involved in major decisions about what old age home I will live out my days in. 

I envision the Drama Queen having to take me grocery shopping, to the doctor…lordy mercy…we will be just like Eunice and Mama. 

Just in 2008 alone, I’ve gotten calls from my mother in the middle of the night, in the middle of my workday, and other times, have had to abandon what I’m doing to go across town to where she lives and deal with a situation.  Hear me, I do not mind doing these things for my mother.  Not one bit.  This is the woman who gave birth to me, wiped my rear end (nevermind that I STILL remember the time she accidentally put toothpaste on my ass instead of Desitin for diaper rash.  Yeah, I have a good memory but you’d remember that one too.  Trust me, toothpaste on yer butt-ox doesn’t get rid of cavities.)  Lord knows the sacrifices Barbara Jean has made on my behalf.  I am quite thankful that I still have her around to do for (yes, I would be even more thankfuller if’n she’d move about 20 minutes closer!).

Do you ever think about your old age?  Is there going to be money for me to live on?  Are my boys going to marry awful women like the daughters in law in Driving Miss Daisy or A Trip To Bountiful?  Will my daughters in law only allow me to hum my hymns when they aren’t around?  I kid, but, ya know…stuff like seeing the old lady in the Hoveround on Gallatin Rd. makes me think about that sorta stuff.

All my life I’ve been taught how to die, but no one ever taught me how to grow old.

BILLY GRAHAM, Newsweek, Aug. 14, 2006

The One Where The Manchild Dives For The Ball…And Missed

You know how you wake up in the morning to have your regular ol’ day…you are pretty happy that the humidity is low so YES! It’s a Good-Hair-Day-Tuesday.  You’re feeling right good about yourself and your future, life is good, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off-to-work-you-go?  It’s a productive morning, get lots done and you’re thinking “So, what will I do at lunchtime?” …..

Then you get a phone call telling you your kid has split his head open in PE class. You call the school and are told that 911 has been called, your kid is bleeding oh and be sure you get a plastic surgeon to do his sutures?  So much for a leisurely lunch time, eh?I’ve never had one of those kinds of phone calls before until today.

  Now, I’ve had kids get stitched up, (one with an unfortunate encounter with a merry go round, the other an encounter with bare feet and a rake) broken bones, (big toe and wrist) the Vapors, an ambulance ride, handed my not-yet-one year old-baby to a stranger to put him to sleep to put tubes in his ears, had the same baby about a year later, severely dehydrated, suffering from Rotavirus, in the hospital hooked up to IV’s for three days, rocked and held a feverish little one (and not so little) more times than I could possibly remember, sat in the bathroom in the middle of the night with the shower running, letting the steam clear a croupy cough, my 2 year old drink bleach, saw one of my kids nearly drown at 3 years old, an ER trip thinking one had appendicitis, been thrown up on, pooped on , peed on, all those things more times than I could begin to remember.  January 2 I will have been a parent 17 years.  I’ve done a lotta stuff, like every other parent has.

Something about hearing the numbers “911” in relation to your child, who is about 25 minutes away makes your heart just stop for a second.  Mine sure did today.  I waited at Hendersonville Hospital for a good 25 minutes before the ambulance arrived with the Manchild in tow.  I wasn’t even sure if they were bringing him there because the ER people hadn’t gotten a call, the office lady at Station Camp didn’t know if they took him there or to Sumner Regional.

Finally, the ambulance pulls up and I go over to the back, nervous, not totally knowing what I’m gonna see, kinda on the verge of tears, in total Talk-To-Jesus-Out-Loud mode…and they pull the Manchild out on the stretcher. 

Now, you gotta realize, I haven’t seen the Manchild wear anything except a black tshirt with some sort of band name on the front for probably two years and baggy blue jeans.  He had on his Gym shirt, which is gray and has his school name on the front and he had on shorts!  I forgot the boy had legs.  We also don’t live in the same house anymore.

So, he’s got on a totally different color than I’m accustomed to seeing, his head is wrapped in gauze, oxygen thingies up his nose, blood on him and I say something very motherly (and very sincere) like “Oh Tyler” and my firstborn child waves at me and says “Mom….I look like a retard.”

The Wellness Class (what happened to “Gym” or “PE?”) was playing “Flash Football.”  I don’t even know what that is.  A friend of mine asked me if that was when you run down the field and show your ass. I don’t know. I’m assuming it’s something akin to Flag Football.  They were inside the gym and Tyler went to dive for a catch and…well…he missed. 

He doesn’t remember the missed catch so that means he went to his Special, Happy Place for a moment.  He was pretty pale when he got to the hospital and he was chattering.  Tyler is a big talker but he’s usually very calm.  He was almost hyper.  I guess part of that was nerves, part of it mighta been a little shock…he was cracking me up though.

They ran him through the CAT scanner and that all came out fine.   A plastic surgeon looked at his boo boo and said that he narrowly missed hitting a major artery in his forehead as well as narrowly missed the muscle that controls the eyebrow movement.   4 cms with tissue and skull exposed.  Yee haw. The Manchild is fortunate all around and that is not lost on his Dad or myself. (There are more pictures on the Flickr over there but some are a little…ick so I wanted to be sensitive to my more sensitive readers)

 I got paper towels and washed his hands and face (first time he’s let me do anything for him like that since I can remember) and even though it was a crappy thing to have happen, I enjoyed getting to play Mommy to my big boy, even for just a minute.  (Enjoy is probably not the right word)   I couldn’t believe he wasn’t fighting me.  This boy likes to be independent.  I respect that and totally encourage him to take care of himself but it’s interesting how when your kid is sick or hurting. that mother instinct just kicks in.

The changes that have occurred in our family the last few weeks, the logistical changes, etc.  I don’t know…I’m glad he let me be Mom and do my job, even though when he first got in the room he said “Mom…I’m 16. I’m ok.”  After the EMT guy said something about how much he bled and that “that’s your Mom, man” it was ok for me to slip into that mode cause none of his buddies were around or nothing. 

All the stuff that’s gone on lately has been difficult for all of us.  It’s so important to me that Tyler knows that just because I’m at a different address (he chose to stay with his Dad) that I’m still his Mom and my love for him is no different.  I may not be a perfect mother, but, those kids are my heart.  Even big, tall and hairy like the Manchild is, he’s still my baby boy.

When we left the hospital, I hugged the Manchild and told him I loved him and was glad he was ok.  I decided when I moved that I have to start telling those kids every single day I love them.  They aren’t really warm/fuzzy/”I love you” saying kinda kids and I’m not so good at saying it but thats another thing about my life I’m trying to change.  Days like today are such a reminder that you don’t know from day to day, how your life can change in the drop of a football.

Random Saturday-Ness

I thoroughly enjoyed having a house full of giggly girls at my house last night.  I’ve known most of them since they were little and the other two girls, Kelsey and Morgan, are just two of the sweetest kids around.  I’m glad the DQ has some good friends like them.
When the Manchild was younger, he loved that show Courage The Cowardly Dog on Cartoon Network.  I remember one time he was watching it and he was saying “Mom, you have to see this” and I was all “Oh puh-leeeeaze” but I watched it anyway to humor my kid.  I ended up nearly wetting my pants laughing cause that is one funny show. (It was the one where the goose fell in love with Muriel). 

I hadn’t seen Courage in ages until today.  #2 was watching it and I swear, Courage and Eustis were just plain killin’ me.

I can’t profess the same affection for Cartoon Network’s Total Drama Island.  That show makes me curse.

Ricky Gervais was on Letterman last night.  Ricky and the Gentleman Formerly Known As My Boss remind me a ton of each other.  ‘Cept the GFKAMB isn’t British.  Ricky G. is a funny man.  The GFKAMB is also a funny man.  I’m not sure what it is but, yeah. (That phrase sounds like something the Drama Queen would say…but yaaah)

I for real thought that Gary Tuchman was gonna die live on television last night trying to show us just how powerful Hurricane Ike’s winds were.  I bet Anderson Cooper would be really pissed off if somebody else dies live on the air before he does.  I did think millions of people were gonna witness ol’ Gar’ getting his arse blowed to Glow-ry right there in front of our eyes though.

I texted Cuzzin Sharon in Houston to see if she had evacuated and she hadn’t.  She texted me early this morning and said that she had the windows open and she was reading a book and sorta enjoying the whole thing.  The funny thing is I remember when Hurricane Alicia hit Houston back in the early 80’s, Sharon telling of sitting on her back porch, reading a book.  I’ve never known Cuzzin Sharon to be without a book.

 I should start reading again. I used to read a lot but somewhere along the turn of the century, my ability to sit down and read a book went out the window.  I mean, I can still read but, I got to where I would skim through and not really read stuff.  Maybe I should try again.  Donna was talking about some Henry David Thoreau book yesterday that sounded interesting.  Note to self….two words Library Card.

I didn’t do nary a thing today and it was really nice to do nary a thing.  I did get a haircut but I didn’t get cullah put on so it didn’t take long. I didn’t feel like I had something I needed to be doing and there was something about that that was just a good feeling.  I haven’t felt that in years and years.

It ocurred to me while I was out and about a little bit ago that I’m now residing in the same area I resided in when I first married in 1989.  This area has grown a bit but there are still things here that were here then, like the Kroger I used to go to as a newlywed and the laundromat we used to to go to before we had a washer and dryer.  Something about that is a little ironic.  Started my grown up life in this little area and it’s like the second round of my grown-up life is beginning in the same spot.  Kinda bizarre.  Not really, but, it gives me pause.