Blogs Beat Emails

I think the reason I prefer Blogs to Emails these days is the low expectation of a response.

On my email accounts{oh, and how frustrating to have 2 and still not receive messages!!} I usually assume that if I correspond with someone, for whatever reason(even a silly survey)I need to hear back from them! This is a need, based on a desire to actually communicate and find out how they are, what they have been up to, how they feel, etc. A general "care about you " attitude on my part.
My preference with people has always been to KNOW them and KNOW them well, a rare condition it appears, sometimes referred to as friend.

Now I am as guilty as the next person of ignoring an email from time to time, thinking I will get back to them after work, later in the day, when I am in a better mood[this is often the reason, btw], or secretly hoping they will forget I didn't answer and write me again. This is called Lazy. Yes, even a grandmother of 10 , mother of many, birdwatcher, cat tolerator, and Perfect parent[remember? I have a dog named Perfect??!!] can be Lazy. Hard to imagine, yet so true.

Anyhow, where was I? Oh, ignoring. On Blogs, you have no expectation of a response, thus, no ignoring! You just write, because you want to express something from within. I think it is an underrated system of communicating and I personally am going to change it. I am not that important , mind you, I just know people. Lots of people.

Blogs can be written, then forgotten. Or should someone happen to comment on your blog(thanks to timmers here) you can feel momentarily cared about, validated, affirmed. Should nobody comment, you do not have to know that nobody READ your blog, you can just be pro-active and go read somebody else!!

Now here is the beauty of Blogging. You can snoop into other people's minds and lives and never have a relationship with them!! No need to email! No need to wait for a hint of how they are! No need to care about them personally-just visit temporarily their exciting (or boring I just discovered this morning) lives and be gone. Away with you to your life filled with grandchildren and children and pets and friends!! Off you go to work or school or the grocery store with the biggest loss leaders! On with the TV and the LOST season opener...

Oh I love blogging, and am so sad that I am 5 years behind the times...think of all the wasted moments of feeling I was being ignored.So many emails written. Daughter in New Mexico informed me I was 5 years late on this 'rage' when I told her of my new blog.

Tsk, Tsk, better late then never. Excuse me now as I go read about the lost art of paper cutting....(don't they know why it should stay lost?)

Two Sides to EVERY story

One of the more commonly heard adages I share with a certain young son of mine is : "Just because you think it in your head, and are convinced it is true, does NOT make it THE TRUTH!"

The 'practice what you preach' irony reverberates loudly in my own head as this week begins, making me need to sort out fact from fiction. My head is dancing with life events to be sorted, dates remembered and some forgotten in my messed up mind.

To know me is to know I have a horrible memory!! I am not sure why this is, but I eliminated a long time ago the possibility of abuse in my childhood , one of the major causes of forgetfulness. I had a marvelous childhood(thanks mom and dad!). Guess it's a quirk of nature.

So, as the week began, very early in the morning from somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain ,was the knowledge that THIS week was THE BAD ONE. In spite of my horrible memory, I remember well, without assistance from my calendar, all dates of significance.

Call it a gift. Call it crazy. Call it whatever you want , but that is a fact and can be documented by witnesses of this amazing memory. How many friends and family receive cards and notes from me on their special occasions, some they have even forgotten! Like the time I sent my mom a note on the anniversary of her mom's(my grandma's)death and mom saying "oh I knew it was near here but never remember the date".

Back to my mind, and this week. On this particular last week in January week several anniversaries loom as being bad memories.

Our son , Daniel Mark, died as an infant in 1984. He was 9 months old and just died.

A few years later, my previously mentioned grandma died. In 2002, my father-in-law died, quickly followed by my husband returning abruptly and completely to his home country, never to be heard from again. I think of that bizarre instance as a death. Particularly since we were married, happily, for 3o years prior.

God, being my Saviour and friend, helped me cope with all of those losses , quite amazingly, by grace and faith and friends and time. They did however, translate into my mind as part of a death week memory and label, always to be dreaded, feared and tolerated.

Well, part of my own personal journey of healing and health this Year of Jubilee! 2008!, is to rethink all dark ,scary places from the past and reintroduce the Light that I know should be there, rather than darkness.

I opened up my datebook and to my wonderful surprise! discovered a plethora of exciting, wonderful memories tucked in behind the others. I guess they were crowded out by my thoughts rather than the TRUTH, claiming a spot that should have been reserved for THE TRUTH. It seems daughter Margie and wonderful son-in-law Joel were engaged to be married this week! Well, for crying out loud, this is the marriage resulting in 5 lovely, lively, grandchildren!! How could I have forgotten that?? I also see my sister-in-law and brother- in- law were married 43 years ago! Oh look, a dear friend was born! My goodness, my cousin Jo was born! Best yet, my own precious baby son , now close to 20 years of age, was legally adopted this week 19 years ago! How could that joy be hidden behind the curtains of selective, sad memories?

Just because I think it, does NOT mean it is Truth. I learned many years ago another very wise adage. God's Word is TRUTH. Nothing else should take a place of such prominence in my mind, even my selective memories. Or especially my selective memories!

I need to go now, I have to send Margie and Joel a card telling them how thrilled I am that they were engaged 9 years ago. Maybe I'll go shopping and get Andy a present just so he knows how important his adoption was to me, and wouldn't it be fun to write to my husband and tell him I am OK that he left because now, after 6 years of sadness, I am able to embrace this year? OK, maybe not . I think I need more grace from God for that!

musings of the day

I knew today would be weird, because I woke up remembering my dreams, and they were strange. Usually I don't remember what the dream was, but this morning it stayed in my groggy mind several minutes longer than usual. It's gone now, so I can't even comment on its content, and significance when wide awake.



My head is pounding and my coffee did not do the trick of making me appear more alert than I truly am.



I had planned on a lovely pre-going-to-work day with my twin grandchildren(one of the two pairs I am blessed to call mine), perhaps cooking or just Being. The anticipation mounted at the thought of just seeing them, hugging them as they ran past me looking for familiar toys and objects to throw, er, I mean, touch. I put a Crockpot of beef on so my daughter and I could enjoy a late lunch or perhaps she could take home a pot of stew to her always hungry husband. Then I checked email, of course, to once again be disappointed that the majority of people I write to had already said whatever it was they needed to say, and were silent at the moment, leaving my Inbox rather boring.



Maybe I should call and make sure daughter who lives 1/2 hour away was knowing she could also come over and we could have a 'gathering' and enjoy the little ones together? Well, I don't want to be pushy. She has 3 precious ones not in school and if we time things right , a solid window of 2 hours is there sandwiched between bright yellow school buses. I wish daughter who lives one mile away could come, but her schedule is so full I barely see her except Sunday mornings. Then I gather her son in my eagerly awaiting arms as she leaves him with Grammy so she can have a free sitter for the day and I can have free hugs and photo ops. I think it a fair trade-off, considering he now knows me and smiles when he sees me from afar. People would pay good money for that, don't you think?



The phone rang and changed the day. It turns out, daughter one had visited daughter two the previous day and daughter 3 had visited daughter 2 the day before that. Everyone was visited out, except Grammy/mom/me. "We'll make it one day next week" I was told, no problem.

No hugs, no photo sessions of cuteness growing older, no laughter and fun before work, no lunch together and certainly no pot of stew for dinner. I am weary of making pots of anything with none to share it with.



Now what shall I do? I guess I'll look at my birds out the window and try to snap one with my not quite fast enough shutter finger. I think ibuprofen is in order, tissues and perhaps my computer screen. It isn't great at interacting, but hasn't yet failed to amuse me. The fool cat is staring at me again, so maybe I should change her litter box for amusement. The darned dog is wrapped around her post, scaring away all of the pretty birds, leaving the gray ones there feeding, so I'll deal with that. I hear the laundry spinning, which means 10 minutes can be used very wisely by folding laundry. Hmmmm, almost time for work.



Turns out, I didn't need to have children and grandchildren fill my day, amusing me when I felt there was no point in this late- to- work time slot. I'll be here whenever the kids think they want to see me, or eat a bite of lunch with me, or have me watch a child or two or five, or meet up and shop till we drop for sales. Anyway, if I want to SEE a child, I have a 23 year old asleep in his bedroom(I think) , and the baby son [ age 19 ] is coming home tonight after school and work, so I can always snap a photo of him-and dodge for cover :-)!



I need coffee. I knew today would be weird.

For Better, or Worse

Her name is Apryl. Yes, spelled exactly as it is written-Apryl. As if spelling the name correctly is mandatory to knowing her well. Anyone with a cat knows her. And besides, who needs to know the spelling of a cat's name ? Good grief, she's a cat, not a famous novelist! Well, 7 years ago, when Miss Apryl was given to Miss Julie(young 16 year old daughter having been recently traumatized by leaving of father from family home)as a compensatory gift(Ok that is another whole story, trust me)Julie insisted vehemently that the spelling be "Apryl, not April Mom". Only it is pronounced Mah-ummm.[insert heavy sigh]

I do not like cats. I am not a cat lover. I am a cat owner, by default this time. My kitten Kelly in college was an exception to the cat lover comment, she was adorable! All orange and white and full of vim and vinegar, jumping carelessly into the toilet as someone flushed it and barely escaping with her life on many occasions....oh, sorry, I digress.

Apryl is so annoying. She is totally in charge of me and I resent it daily. I awaken in the early morning to a cleverly placed paw on my chest with just the simplest prodding of a claw. I jump awake, startled and in pain, and she is just lying there looking at me , so innocently as if she hadn't just awakened me in pain. She wants to go outside. It is time. I either get up, stumble down the stairs and let her outside , or I endure countless proddings , like a cowboy prodding his cattle, moving them along to where he wants them to go.

After she has investigated the outside community, say , in 5 minutes or less, she is batting this very same paw at the window that I am sitting next to. This she does quite loudly until I get up and let her back inside. Move chairs, you say? Believe me when I say it does not matter what chair I am in, Apryl finds me and annoys me there.

As she enters the house, she pauses, looks up at me with disdain(I KNOW disdain when I see it)
and meows over and over while looking for the back of whatever chair I am sitting in, to determine if it has been cleared of obstacles for her highness.

Apryl also feels it neccessary to rub against anyone she thinks is a friend. I think perhaps she has a sixth sense of who actually hates her or is allergic to her, because they are especially chosen to receive her longest and most luxurious visits! I say " just hit her off you!" and I do mean this....but kindness and foolishness are often intertwined, and she is usually left to use the person's finest clothing for her brushing post. Why are people so nice?

There is one aspect of Apryl's life that amuses me endlessly. She is the BEST guard cat in the entire neighborhood! Should a strange car, or person , or even mailman walk anywhere near the house, Apryl jumps to the windowsill and starts low grumblings in her throat. She does NOT appreciate uninvited strangers! I can look at her and immediately know if I should get up and investigate a noise or feeling . I think this is why she is still here, nightly driving me crazy as she winds her body carefully around my legs, waiting for me to settle in so she can get comfortable. I cannot possible afford Shloemin Shield.

Another pet peeve(get it?) is her bathroom issues. If her litter needs changing-oh my. I hear about it! I am treated to wild clawings in the middle of the night, over and over until I either change the litter or threaten her with death.She believes me, too.

Well, I would like to write more about Apryl, my default cat, but she is meowing at me, and my show is about to start on TV and if I ignore her, I will pay later.
Anyone need a guard-cat? Oh, a dog is preferred? I have one of those too. Perfect's story, another day.

Birdwatcher Extraordinaire

I am a birdwatcher, in the true sense of the word. I watch birds. That's it, I do not bird identify or bird call or bird travel or even care what bird it is that I am currently watching. I just want to watch birds.

I've noticed that when I mention to someone that I am a birdwatcher, they have one of three responses. Either they get all excited and say 1) "oh have you seen the ____(insert scientific name here___?) that has been seen in the Eastern part of Delaware lately?? , or 2) they say "oh I know somebody(usually a grandmother or single person with no other identifying characteristics ) who birdwatches", or 3) they sigh and say "nice".

Now there is nothing wrong with those responses but do you notice why it might frustrate me, a mild mannered, occasionally excitable birdwatcher? How do you comment on the bright red pair of cardinals you saw on your back deck as you were sipping your coffee? How does one share their happy feeling that a hummingbird(only a bird identifier knows which one)has slowed down enough to be spotted? and heavenly days! I am NUTS if I get one in my camera lens.

I just want to tell someone of my enthusiasm for these wonderfully different and lovely creatures that God created, without being expected to know their call, their breeding habits and their colors in winter. I do not even care if they have a scientific name and specific area of flight.

Count the hawks in Cape May Bird Sanctuary if you want to, but I want to spot one soaring above my head!!

OK, so do not get me started about the FEEDING !! I go to the local store (yes, bird people I buy it at the Walmart, Target or Grocery store-whoever has it cheapest!) and often buy it in a 10 lb bag. It is either that or limit my purchases to only a 3 lb. bag of birdseed and TWO loaves of genereic wheat bread on sale.[this for me] A person has to be thrifty and birds are included in that life choice. Oh horrors! I do not buy sunflower seed already hulled, oiled and shucked for my precious ones. I just want to WATCH them, not create a diet for them that is better than my own!! Do you think I ever dare mention that in public? Not a chance, thank you.

I believe my passion started when I was a small girl visiting my grandma Miller. She had a kitchen window that looked out over an expanse of woods. She would thoughtfully toast a piece of bread(always white, I might add here) and then spread peanut butter on it. Then she carefully opened the window above her sink and placed the food on the outer sill for the birds to enjoy. Lo and behold they came rapidly and boldly as she exclaimed excitedly when she saw "black capped chickadees"!

To this day, the little chickadee is my sign that it is time to get the birdseed , butter the bread, and lay it across the back deck, all the while laughing as the squirrels share it along with Perfect, our dog, who loves grabbing the spoils.

You see, I am a birdwatcher, and watching birds is ALL that I do.

If Mom is 77 , then I must be old

Happy Birthday Mom!

I am astounded that age 77 is a mere 20 years away. It seems like the gap between she and I has closed as the years stroll by. Is it possible that they are even getting closer together?

Well, mom was actually 77 yesterday, January 16, 2008.

Since I had brilliantly downloaded another anti-virus protection service and it 'imploded' my computer as it fought to keep the bad guys out along with the Comcast provided anti-virus protection [this was the young girl technician's word, not mine] we had a temporary computer meltdown here. I tried over and over to log onto the internet , all the time being told it was impossible by this machine that continues to be smarter than me. My solution was to uninstall my newest maneuver, fixing my own problem. As an aside, have you noticed how we often create our own problems, then want others to fix them? Just an aside.

Back to mom.

Maude gave birth to me at age 19, becoming pregnant at age 18, just out of high school. Her real name isn't Maude, it's just what I have called her as a silly pet name over the years. How could mom become a mother at such a young age and live so well until age 77 still loving and traveling and sewing and cooking and going to church and sharing of herself with MY children and grandchildren? My youngest son is the age she was[19] and THAT is impossible to imagine-that He could be a father! Amazing trip through the years I would say, very successful, very inspiring, very strenuous at times.

I am so weary already, the daily struggles and stresses often becoming my theme rather than my postscript. I want to be done raising kids, be done paying the bills, be through with all of the responsibility factors. But the road continues on, the traveling often leaving me bone tired and discouraged.

Then I call Maude. She chatters on about the weather or the latest trip she has planned or the
cutest little bird she saw at her feeder that morning. And I feel inspired to continue walking forward, getting out my binoculars for a clearer view of those little birds outside of MY window, all the while knowing that since she is ahead of me on this journey through life, and she declared it safe, I am OK. After all, she's my mom. And I love her, my always young mother.

Rediscovered!

As 2008 begins, I have rediscovered my BLOG! Last year when I began it, I was sure the answer to my ponderings was at my fingertips-I would BLOG! But alas, I lost how to get back into it!

So this morning as I wondered what other people thought about life, I rediscovered it!

Here we go-again.

I conquered a PHOBIA without drugs, intervention or alcohol.

I have been terrified of flying since a really nasty return trip from Brasil 32 years ago....the sight of an airplane flying overhead, the sounds from an airport, movies or news clips on TV, any mention of an upcoming trip ...all sent me into the intense mind game of " what if"?

I hated the comments made by the flying world. I resented the casual "trust God" advice givers. Don't they think I would have flown to ITALY where my son and his wife lived and loved? Don't they think I take my relationship with God very seriously and am not casual about FAITH? or TRUSTING HIM?!?

So for 32 years I was a prisoner of my fear..

On December 31, 2007 I decided to go for it- rid myself of my last holdout of faith. Trust God with the airplane and the pilot and my terror(yes, I meant that word) and just go. I sat between Rachel and Aric who live in New Mexcio and love it there. I prayed for grace to withstand the terror. People prayed for me, friends encouraged me, family was proud of me...and I flew. To New Mexico between the kids, back from New Mexico alone, next to an elderly PuertoRican non-English speaking stranger. wow. God allowed me to FEEL the terror and fly anyway. I hated every second of it until the plane pulled up to the gate. I do not want to fly again anytime soon. I know, however, that I will.Someday, sometime, I CAN. The phobia holds me captive no longer, and I am excited to beging this year 2008 as my own personal Year Of Jubilee.