ARIZONA MICHIGAN
*Silhouettes of peaceful, purpled mountains *The way a blanket of freshly fallen snow
and the towering ink palm trees against the dusts the top of previously fallen snow so
backdrop of rose-blush and tangerine sunsets that all the sharp lines of the footprints &
that never disappoint. snow angels are softened. And how snow
can appear white or ochre or a serene,
sparkling perewinkle, depending on the
time of day and the mood of the sky.
The above was saved so I could move to a computer that would allow me an hour of use, but it's all jumbled. I read it over and thought it was kind of cool. It was supposed to be side-by-side columns listing the sunny spots in both Arizona and Michigan, but it didn't save the way I formatted it (by hand, not using the tools because none of the tools allow 2 lists next to each other). So here they are; separated: (grrrr)
ARIZONA
*Silhouettes of peaceful, purpled mountains and towering, inked palms and cypress trees against the backdrop of rose-blush and tangerine sunsets that never disappoint.
*Nearly scalding hot water straight from the tap--no wait time. (Good for washing dishes and boiling water for hot tea or noodles in a jiffy!)
*Which brings me to the curiousity of: Butt facials...buttials? Even the toilets have hot water! A steam bath for the butt.
*Our neighbor, Heather, who out of the grandness of her heart simply handed Grace and me a stack of books she thought we'd like to borrow--three of which were SARK books (five of which were doggie books and kid craft books that Grace loves...we've started a dried apple head person already...). I've finally read a SARK book! (Eat Mangoes Naked) Could SARK be my long-lost aunt?
*Sedona (I haven't actually been there yet, but I know I'll love the red rock vistas and the energy vortexes.)
*No matter how short or involved the errand, I am always driving toward magical magnetic mountains. We are surrounded. I marvel at them in front of me, through the windshield, and behind me through the rearview mirror as I drive. My eyes gobble up a feast no matter where they look.
*Bigger bugs (so I can qucikly spot them to escort them back outside).
*DRY heat.
*The shiny glint of palm leaves dancing with the warm breezes in the ubiquitous light of the sun that make you stare in wonder: surely someone placed polished, plastic, paper up there for fun? But no, this is one of Mother Nature's quirky delights!
*The abundance of freshly baked (and cheap!) corn and flour tortillas available at any store that sells groceries.
*Any spot on the rim of the Grand Canyon.
*Sizzling sepias!
*Our second storey stoop where I can observe everything--the mountains, the trees, the 20 people that will most certainly walk by our apartment within an hour's time.
*The way Arizonians share their roads with bikers.
*Joel.
MICHIGAN
*The way a blanket of freshly fallen snow is like fairy dust on previously fallen snow; all the sharp lines of the footprints and snow angels are softened. And how snow can appear white or ochre or a serene, sparkling perewinkle, depending on the time of day and the mood of the sky.
*Crisp, cold water straight from the tap--no wait time. (Good for drinking and cooling down a freshly brewed batch of iced-tea.)
*Together, two hands serve as an instant map of Michigan's upper and lower peninsulas (right hand upright, facing you, left hand perpendicular, to left of and above right-voila!). Those of us born and raised get quite a bit of use out of our hand maps when discussing locations with others.
*Our neighbor, Phyllis, who is 93 years young; she always has an interesting story or local history tid-bit to tell.
*Saugatuck.
*Apple orchards and Cider Mills in the fall (hot cake donuts, hay rides, pumpkin patches...).
*Smaller bugs (so as not to startle me so easily).
*Cool breezes.
*That maple tree on our street that turns to a fiery red-orange while the other trees still sit with their greens.
*The bounty of fresh (and cheap!) locally grown produce.
*Any beach on Lake Michigan.
*Gorgeous greens!
*Our front porch swing where I can sit and be solitary with our sheltering Oak; or share it with my family and attend to tales of their day's events.
*Plentiful parks perfectly plunged into nature's oasis, complete with running and biking trails.
*Nathan
* * *
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Water...Or Lack Thereof
During our first week here, we drove on an overpass on the way to the library and Nate said, "It's funny, in Michigan we have overpasses for going over water; here, they're for going over a little canyon of desert area."
Yes, as it turns out those "little canyons of desert" become washes for the rivers of rain to flow through during this, Arizona's monsoon season. ( I've read that it is improper grammar to use the word "season" with the word "monsoon" because monsoon is a season; we do tend to say the "fall season" or the "winter season" and it didn't sound right to just say "it is monsoon in Arizona"...) These monsoon thunderstorms are akin to spring and summer thunderstorms in Michigan. As in Michigan, they can be violent and sudden, knocking power lines down and causing floods. But, the glaring difference is that because they get rain so infrequently here throughout the entire year (they don't have images of a cacti on their state license plates for nothing), the ground is considerably harder so when it does rain, the parched earth can't imbibe that gift from the sky as zestfully or as willingly as it does in Michigan. (Also, as my husband's buddy pointed out, they don't have nearly as many drains here as they do back east--he's from Rhode Island.)
Bottom line: Water easily overwhelms here in Arizona.
Tantamount to how the exceptional temperatures of Arizona can easily overwhelm a native Michigander like me.
On our first day at our new apartment, I had gone out to purchase necessities such as food staples, contact paper, and a shower curtain. It was 112 degrees Fahrenheit. Nathan aptly compared the feeling of walking outside to that of when you feel the blast of heat when opening a hot oven, "only it never goes away and it's all around your body and face...all the time". Or, he said, it's like standing next to a hot car engine but again, he addded,"all the time, all over your body, and in your face". As if I could forget. Yes, perfect analogies, I told him.
As I trekked across the vast black-top parking lot toward the store, I took a deep breath and embraced that oven-like quality of the intense Arizona heat. Rather than complain to myself, "Man, it's hot out here!"--I was actually smiling at what an intriguingly different sensation walking outside could be. Not bad; just different.
I promise you, I am not a heat person. My favorite season is autumn in Michigan, with an Indian Summer or two thrown in. Sixty to seventy-eight degrees Fahernheit---ahhhhh. Bliss. I can keep my windows open to feel the cool breezes or let the whispering leaves of the great Oak in my front yard lull me to sleep each night.
Honestly, I truly was embracing Arizona's delightfully distinct desert climate. Though it's consistantly hotter here, it's lighter, not so heavy, and amazingly, on that 112 degree day, I barely broke into a sweat. It's discombobulating, really. In Michigan when it reaches the 90s as it often does in the summer, you can count on a massive side of heavy, humid air to go with it. Hot humidity goes hand in hand with sweat, more sweat, and mosquitos!
Not an issue here in Arizona. Hallelujah!
On the flip side, during that shopping trip on that first day here, as I roamed through the store I thought, Boy, I need to drink some more water when I get home.
Then, ten minutes later: Whew! I wish there was a water fountain right here where I'm standing.
And finally, just: Water...water...Oh, I need to grab a silverware tray...water...water...Oh yeah, and a trash container...and where are those shower curtains?...water-water-water...I better buy a water bottle at the check-out to drink on the way home...cool, cool water...Mmmm-can't wait for that waterwaterwaterwater...
But by the time I had reached the cashier, I realized I couldn't wait until I was at the car to drink. I cracked the cap open right there in front of the cashier, waiting (smiling, but actually impatient) for her to hand me the receipt, and immediately thereafter--I drank.
And drank. And drank some more.
It was only a regular 20 ounce bottle, but I'm not much of a drinker in general. Yeah, yeah, I'm a nurse in another life and I know how important water is and that I was already dehydrated when I felt that thirst, but I can't guzzle it and I rarely drink 64 ounces daily. Not even when I overhydrate myself three or four days before giving blood. More like 30-40 ounces in Michigan; about 50 ounces here in Arizona (and I feel great and my urine is clear...on a day of hiking or other such activity, of course, it's much more). But when I get busy, as I was on that day of moving and all...well, I tried to be conscious of my fluid intake (and I love water--it's my number one beverage choice) but I'm sure I slacked.
So that July first day, when I guzzled 15 ounces of H2O before heading back out in that arid Arizona air, I could actually feel the individual cells of my body expanding their withered, semipermeable plasma membranes in joyful appreciation.
I've worked out my whole life. I've done lots of runs for charity--lots of training for those runs--long runs, too; I trained for and completed a marathon (held here in Arizona--but in January), but the thirst I felt that day was definately a different animal. It stayed with me for days--the memory of that feeling, that full-body, parched feeling. Later that week, the kids and I watched the movie, "Holes". Though I've always empathized with strong movie characters, this time I was sure that when I'd seen it years earlier, I'd only thought I could understand how thirsty and hot and dry those kids felt in that desperate desert doom. But now...now I felt like we were kindred spirits. Now I felt I knew exactly how thirsty they really were!
Or so I told myself.
Hooray for water!
Hooray for Michigan's abundance of it!
Hooray for Arizona (for teaching me a much deeper appreciation for it)!
Yes, as it turns out those "little canyons of desert" become washes for the rivers of rain to flow through during this, Arizona's monsoon season. ( I've read that it is improper grammar to use the word "season" with the word "monsoon" because monsoon is a season; we do tend to say the "fall season" or the "winter season" and it didn't sound right to just say "it is monsoon in Arizona"...) These monsoon thunderstorms are akin to spring and summer thunderstorms in Michigan. As in Michigan, they can be violent and sudden, knocking power lines down and causing floods. But, the glaring difference is that because they get rain so infrequently here throughout the entire year (they don't have images of a cacti on their state license plates for nothing), the ground is considerably harder so when it does rain, the parched earth can't imbibe that gift from the sky as zestfully or as willingly as it does in Michigan. (Also, as my husband's buddy pointed out, they don't have nearly as many drains here as they do back east--he's from Rhode Island.)
Bottom line: Water easily overwhelms here in Arizona.
Tantamount to how the exceptional temperatures of Arizona can easily overwhelm a native Michigander like me.
On our first day at our new apartment, I had gone out to purchase necessities such as food staples, contact paper, and a shower curtain. It was 112 degrees Fahrenheit. Nathan aptly compared the feeling of walking outside to that of when you feel the blast of heat when opening a hot oven, "only it never goes away and it's all around your body and face...all the time". Or, he said, it's like standing next to a hot car engine but again, he addded,"all the time, all over your body, and in your face". As if I could forget. Yes, perfect analogies, I told him.
As I trekked across the vast black-top parking lot toward the store, I took a deep breath and embraced that oven-like quality of the intense Arizona heat. Rather than complain to myself, "Man, it's hot out here!"--I was actually smiling at what an intriguingly different sensation walking outside could be. Not bad; just different.
I promise you, I am not a heat person. My favorite season is autumn in Michigan, with an Indian Summer or two thrown in. Sixty to seventy-eight degrees Fahernheit---ahhhhh. Bliss. I can keep my windows open to feel the cool breezes or let the whispering leaves of the great Oak in my front yard lull me to sleep each night.
Honestly, I truly was embracing Arizona's delightfully distinct desert climate. Though it's consistantly hotter here, it's lighter, not so heavy, and amazingly, on that 112 degree day, I barely broke into a sweat. It's discombobulating, really. In Michigan when it reaches the 90s as it often does in the summer, you can count on a massive side of heavy, humid air to go with it. Hot humidity goes hand in hand with sweat, more sweat, and mosquitos!
Not an issue here in Arizona. Hallelujah!
On the flip side, during that shopping trip on that first day here, as I roamed through the store I thought, Boy, I need to drink some more water when I get home.
Then, ten minutes later: Whew! I wish there was a water fountain right here where I'm standing.
And finally, just: Water...water...Oh, I need to grab a silverware tray...water...water...Oh yeah, and a trash container...and where are those shower curtains?...water-water-water...I better buy a water bottle at the check-out to drink on the way home...cool, cool water...Mmmm-can't wait for that waterwaterwaterwater...
But by the time I had reached the cashier, I realized I couldn't wait until I was at the car to drink. I cracked the cap open right there in front of the cashier, waiting (smiling, but actually impatient) for her to hand me the receipt, and immediately thereafter--I drank.
And drank. And drank some more.
It was only a regular 20 ounce bottle, but I'm not much of a drinker in general. Yeah, yeah, I'm a nurse in another life and I know how important water is and that I was already dehydrated when I felt that thirst, but I can't guzzle it and I rarely drink 64 ounces daily. Not even when I overhydrate myself three or four days before giving blood. More like 30-40 ounces in Michigan; about 50 ounces here in Arizona (and I feel great and my urine is clear...on a day of hiking or other such activity, of course, it's much more). But when I get busy, as I was on that day of moving and all...well, I tried to be conscious of my fluid intake (and I love water--it's my number one beverage choice) but I'm sure I slacked.
So that July first day, when I guzzled 15 ounces of H2O before heading back out in that arid Arizona air, I could actually feel the individual cells of my body expanding their withered, semipermeable plasma membranes in joyful appreciation.
I've worked out my whole life. I've done lots of runs for charity--lots of training for those runs--long runs, too; I trained for and completed a marathon (held here in Arizona--but in January), but the thirst I felt that day was definately a different animal. It stayed with me for days--the memory of that feeling, that full-body, parched feeling. Later that week, the kids and I watched the movie, "Holes". Though I've always empathized with strong movie characters, this time I was sure that when I'd seen it years earlier, I'd only thought I could understand how thirsty and hot and dry those kids felt in that desperate desert doom. But now...now I felt like we were kindred spirits. Now I felt I knew exactly how thirsty they really were!
Or so I told myself.
Hooray for water!
Hooray for Michigan's abundance of it!
Hooray for Arizona (for teaching me a much deeper appreciation for it)!
Friday, July 23, 2010
Cheers! Our Cups Runneth Over
Since the housing market is still too stagnant for us to be able to move to AZ, and since my husband, Joel still has at least another five months until he will be allowed to attempt a transfer back to MI, we decided that the next best option was to move here temporarily when the kids were out of school. July 1 to October 1; three months, or 90 days as Grace likes to tell people.
Actually, Nathan will be leaving much sooner. August 6 his dad will drive here to get him and they will embark on a 14 day road trip the long way home. Beginning with the Grand Canyon, and looping up to Yellowstone and Badlands, Mt. Rushmore and through the beautiful Pictured Rocks of the UP of Michigan, their trip will be filled with awesome sights to behold. And I know Nathan is very excited about it, as he was for this entire summer of adventure that began when we left June 28. And we are excited for him. But we will be melancholy to see him go. It will be nearly two months before we (Grace and I) see him again (longer for Joel, of course which makes me apprecitate Joel's occasional bouts of "being in a funk" all the more). Two months. Nathan, Grace, and I have never gone more than seven days apart, and that was unusual, two days at most, normally...now...two months.
It will be difficult.
Tears will fall.
Our hearts will ebb.
But oh, the joy that will effervesce when we meet again!
Luckily Nate is a kid who loves travel and adventure and new experiences as much as I do. Grace does, too, but she's a little gun shy from having Joel gone all this time.
So. For now we are together with Joel. He drove up to get us (so we'd have two cars to utilize when packing and toting two kids, a dog, a cat, an adult and all the STUFF that goes with us, instead of just one car). We couldn't afford a moving truck or trailer (we did look into it extensively); hence we don't have much in the way of material items and conveniences such as furniture, clothes. pots/pans, dishes--that sort of thing. We have a blanket in the middle of our tiny living room floor which we call our "couch". We play cards and board games, we read, we spend at least four days per week at the library up the road since we have no internet or television, either. And, we spend a lot of time at the two swimming pools that are practically right outside our "90-day Test Drive" apartment door.
All in all not bad. And best of all, our meager, mismatched, cut-rate cups runneth over with LOVE because we are together with Joel again.
Actually, Nathan will be leaving much sooner. August 6 his dad will drive here to get him and they will embark on a 14 day road trip the long way home. Beginning with the Grand Canyon, and looping up to Yellowstone and Badlands, Mt. Rushmore and through the beautiful Pictured Rocks of the UP of Michigan, their trip will be filled with awesome sights to behold. And I know Nathan is very excited about it, as he was for this entire summer of adventure that began when we left June 28. And we are excited for him. But we will be melancholy to see him go. It will be nearly two months before we (Grace and I) see him again (longer for Joel, of course which makes me apprecitate Joel's occasional bouts of "being in a funk" all the more). Two months. Nathan, Grace, and I have never gone more than seven days apart, and that was unusual, two days at most, normally...now...two months.
It will be difficult.
Tears will fall.
Our hearts will ebb.
But oh, the joy that will effervesce when we meet again!
Luckily Nate is a kid who loves travel and adventure and new experiences as much as I do. Grace does, too, but she's a little gun shy from having Joel gone all this time.
So. For now we are together with Joel. He drove up to get us (so we'd have two cars to utilize when packing and toting two kids, a dog, a cat, an adult and all the STUFF that goes with us, instead of just one car). We couldn't afford a moving truck or trailer (we did look into it extensively); hence we don't have much in the way of material items and conveniences such as furniture, clothes. pots/pans, dishes--that sort of thing. We have a blanket in the middle of our tiny living room floor which we call our "couch". We play cards and board games, we read, we spend at least four days per week at the library up the road since we have no internet or television, either. And, we spend a lot of time at the two swimming pools that are practically right outside our "90-day Test Drive" apartment door.
All in all not bad. And best of all, our meager, mismatched, cut-rate cups runneth over with LOVE because we are together with Joel again.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Fun With Boxes
Nathan-this is what he and his cousins did with their free time at my Aunt Heidi's place up north last week. Fun with empty boxes, just like the good ol' days. Thanks for the pictures, Lynne. And thanks Heidi and Joe for the beautiful and fun filled weekend camping in your yard, eating good food, and telling old ghost stories by the campfire.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Witnessing Grace
Here is what I wrote in my journal on April 8th:
Mourning Again
Gracie--intense baby, exceptionally impassioned little girl.
Heart on her sleeve,
it splits open for all to see, hear, feel her sorrow;
and her blood runs and it touches any in her vicinity.
Her anguished cries and screams, begging him
to stay.
Trying to physically keep him here;
blocking
pushing him back
clutching his body, not letting go.
Grabbing door frames and walls as he carries her
with him out to the car.
Why can't you work in Michigan, Daddy?
I don't want you to go, Daddy!
You can't go. Stay. Stay here, Daddy.
You're staying here, Daddy. You don't have to go.
Stay, Daddy.
Her six year old head can't wrap itself around the why.
Her six year old heart only knows it has been cracked wide open
and it hurts.
She succmbs.
He sits with her in the backseat;
she cries.
A mournful, moaning cry.
He holds her.
She says,
I don't want you to go Daddy.
She says it like a mantra that's lost its reason.
He says he doesn't want to go either.
She sobs
until she sleeps, even though Gracie doesn't sleep in the car;
she sleeps.
He wakes her when we are on the airport roads;
she quietly weeps as though she never slept.
When he says good-bye her weeping returns to wailing.
She is trying to hold it back
but cannot.
He tries to make her laugh, she tries to smile for him
but cannot.
Instead, a sorrowful moan escapes her throat
and she is trying to close her heart
but she cannot.
Her wailing circles to quiet weeping, which turns to
quiet contemplation.
Or subdued stillness.
Or encompassing emptiness.
She is temporarily tranquilized.
She gazes at nothing.
My right arm is stretched back holding,
caressing her right foot;
the only comfort I can give while driving alone with her now.
My arm is numb
my heart is not.
A low lamenting moan after a time,
but it is only followed by a sigh--no more crying.
She is six years old and she grieves again for her daddy.
And I grieve for her.
I wrote this the day Joel left after the longest visit yet (7 days). And that same night, at 11pm, I wrote:
She is dancing, she is creating art, she is laughing and smiling. She stops to say she misses him, she allows her grief to flow, but then she allows herself normalcy and levity. Her spirits are lifted by music and art and animals, she allows herself to feel what she is feeling in the moment and she does not wallow.
I love the lessons our children show us. Thank you, Gracie.
Mourning Again
Gracie--intense baby, exceptionally impassioned little girl.
Heart on her sleeve,
it splits open for all to see, hear, feel her sorrow;
and her blood runs and it touches any in her vicinity.
Her anguished cries and screams, begging him
to stay.
Trying to physically keep him here;
blocking
pushing him back
clutching his body, not letting go.
Grabbing door frames and walls as he carries her
with him out to the car.
Why can't you work in Michigan, Daddy?
I don't want you to go, Daddy!
You can't go. Stay. Stay here, Daddy.
You're staying here, Daddy. You don't have to go.
Stay, Daddy.
Her six year old head can't wrap itself around the why.
Her six year old heart only knows it has been cracked wide open
and it hurts.
She succmbs.
He sits with her in the backseat;
she cries.
A mournful, moaning cry.
He holds her.
She says,
I don't want you to go Daddy.
She says it like a mantra that's lost its reason.
He says he doesn't want to go either.
She sobs
until she sleeps, even though Gracie doesn't sleep in the car;
she sleeps.
He wakes her when we are on the airport roads;
she quietly weeps as though she never slept.
When he says good-bye her weeping returns to wailing.
She is trying to hold it back
but cannot.
He tries to make her laugh, she tries to smile for him
but cannot.
Instead, a sorrowful moan escapes her throat
and she is trying to close her heart
but she cannot.
Her wailing circles to quiet weeping, which turns to
quiet contemplation.
Or subdued stillness.
Or encompassing emptiness.
She is temporarily tranquilized.
She gazes at nothing.
My right arm is stretched back holding,
caressing her right foot;
the only comfort I can give while driving alone with her now.
My arm is numb
my heart is not.
A low lamenting moan after a time,
but it is only followed by a sigh--no more crying.
She is six years old and she grieves again for her daddy.
And I grieve for her.
I wrote this the day Joel left after the longest visit yet (7 days). And that same night, at 11pm, I wrote:
She is dancing, she is creating art, she is laughing and smiling. She stops to say she misses him, she allows her grief to flow, but then she allows herself normalcy and levity. Her spirits are lifted by music and art and animals, she allows herself to feel what she is feeling in the moment and she does not wallow.
I love the lessons our children show us. Thank you, Gracie.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Following Your Joy--Just Try It
Last night my "commune housemate", Jen thanked me for DVRing American Idol so she could see Lee DeWyze sing "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen (see February 5th blog). I said, That's funny, I just thanked Ellen DeGeneres in my journal for getting me to watch American Idol in the first place, so I could witness the transformation of Lee from shy paint store employee who had a passion for music to a performing artist who is now regularly releasing that passion onstage for all to see and hear and feel and share. Look at all the joy he brings to others just by doing and sharing what he loves. (I'm sure he was doing it at home, but who knew? It's the getting himself out there and sharing it with the world that took heart and courage and we can all see the pay-off, not just to Lee, but to all of us who watch and listen to him, too.) I feel so strongly on about that point that I wrote a book about it (still haven't found an agent who will read any of it--so I've put the querying aside for another while and I'm working on some children's books and a novel).
Everything comes in its own time. As I've said, I'm not really a big TV person, but shows like American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance that've been around for years, but that I am only just now starting to watch, inspire me and keep my faith alive as I pursue my own dream. I feel such a deep connection with the singers and dancers and their quest to do what they love for a living. It's too bad they couldn't do a show like that for writers. By nature, we tend to be more reclusive so getting us to read our pieces on a stage would be a stretch--not even factoring in that it could put the audience to sleep early on in the auditions.
No, those of us wanna-be-writers will just continue to write, to query, to enter contests (that aren't televised...or even known to most)...maybe blog once in a while. And always we will know that we are writers, even if we've never published anything, even if we are still earning our living as a medical supply manager, as a teacher, or as a stay-at-home-mom. We will work hard at our craft because it brings us joy to do so and because of that, we will know that someday, if we truly believe, we will earn a living from that joy and share it with others--Just as surely as Lee and Crystal and Casey and Mike from American Idol will.
In the meantime, we will be awed and uplifted beholding the singers and dancers in the final episodes of these shows come into their own and live out their purpose. Hopefullly, they inspire not only other singers and dancers (and writers), but any person who has thought about following their dream. Any of us can do it. No matter what it is, no matter who you are, no matter how scary or crazy it sounds to yourself or to others--just do it anyway. And live joyfully.
Everything comes in its own time. As I've said, I'm not really a big TV person, but shows like American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance that've been around for years, but that I am only just now starting to watch, inspire me and keep my faith alive as I pursue my own dream. I feel such a deep connection with the singers and dancers and their quest to do what they love for a living. It's too bad they couldn't do a show like that for writers. By nature, we tend to be more reclusive so getting us to read our pieces on a stage would be a stretch--not even factoring in that it could put the audience to sleep early on in the auditions.
No, those of us wanna-be-writers will just continue to write, to query, to enter contests (that aren't televised...or even known to most)...maybe blog once in a while. And always we will know that we are writers, even if we've never published anything, even if we are still earning our living as a medical supply manager, as a teacher, or as a stay-at-home-mom. We will work hard at our craft because it brings us joy to do so and because of that, we will know that someday, if we truly believe, we will earn a living from that joy and share it with others--Just as surely as Lee and Crystal and Casey and Mike from American Idol will.
In the meantime, we will be awed and uplifted beholding the singers and dancers in the final episodes of these shows come into their own and live out their purpose. Hopefullly, they inspire not only other singers and dancers (and writers), but any person who has thought about following their dream. Any of us can do it. No matter what it is, no matter who you are, no matter how scary or crazy it sounds to yourself or to others--just do it anyway. And live joyfully.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Laughing with Fate
In the Gregory David Roberts novel, Shantaram, one of the characters, Karla, says, "If fate doesn't make you laugh, then you just don't get the joke." I love that line. Maybe partly because I can be so slow at getting the jokes that Nate and Joel get right away and then it turns into a laugh-fest at me. I laugh, too. I do get the jokes; just not as quickly as everyone else--When I do, I think it's as funny as anyone that my comprehension could be so dilatory, and we end up laughing all the more. So when crazy things happen, especially in groupings, I look for Fate's punchline and often I am quicker than most to get it, hence my appreciation for Karla's line.
I mentioned last week that my identity was stolen--actually, it was just one credit card that an international fraud ring got hold of, posing as me online in London, Berlin, D.C....they racked up about $4000 in charges within a few days. But the funny thing was that my identity had been stolen about 10 years ago. As I've mentioned in the first blog, I am not at all technically savvy; I'm not online often (well, when I'm researching for a writing project or something...I am),I do some online bill paying, but nothing is saved to the computer or anything like that. And ten years ago I had an email account that I never checked and that was it. So it's just funny that someone got me twice in ten years.
The first one, I never knew about until the bill collectors tracked me down a year later accusing me of hiding out. The person who opened the account lived in Ohio, gave a fake Ohio address and phone, and they knew my mom's maiden name. The charges added up to about $1000 and the card was never used after two large purchases, but it took me almost a year to get it resolved. Almost no one believed me and when I reached someone who did believe me, they had no idea what to do about it. It just wasn't as common back then. It was a constant game of phone calls, explaining my story over and over, most often on prejudiced ears (most made it perfectly clear that they thought I was lying...), two different people on two different occasions actually hung up on me midsentence and I promise you that I never raised my voice and I never used harsh words. I knew that each new person I spoke to had nothing to do with the person I had spoken to before. But for some reason, most of them seemed to form an immediate opinion about me often referring to me as "people like you". It was crazy. That's why it took nearly a year, because sometimes I needed to take a week off from the negativity coming at me through the phone with each call I made. Also, I was sent on wild goose chases by the few that tried to help me by guessing at what I should do (sending me to my own city police, who directed me to the Cleavland, Ohio police, who directed me right back to the credit card company...).
This time, among the charges were a trip to Italy, a notebook computer, backpacking gear, and $300 in music downloads. I said, "They're buying things that I want to buy for myself!...I'm Monica! I'm Monamana!" (that Friends episode...) And people do mispronounce "Meinema (say: MINE-eh-mah)" as "MoNAMana"! I've been planning to go to Italy for years now, but my goal was by 2010 ("italy2010" was one of my passwords to get to patient information on the hospital computers years ago)...Nate, Jen, and I were supposed to go...but then Joel lost his job, moved to AZ...so it will wait at least another year. Also, the day before I'd found out about the charges, I told myself that I needed to get my own laptop since my computer is going so slowly, it's old...and this is Jen's laptop I'm using until she needs it again in the summer when she has to give her school laptop back (she's a teacher).
And THEN: the very next day after I found out about the fraud charges and said I was Monamana/Monica, Nate turned on that episode of Friends. It's been at least a year or two since the last time Nate and I watched Friends and it's been months since we watched any TV show together (he was always swimming--oh, and he beat his goal of 26 seconds for the 50-Free, he gets 25's regularly--he's got that passion for it now), but there it was, just starting, the one where Monica becomes Monamana and takes dance lessons and tries out for a Broadway play with the girl who stole her identity.
So I'm laughing. And there's more, too much to tell. This is already so choppy, I know. Maybe I'll fix it later. Well, you know about my debit/credit card being declined...that's resolved, too (our bank wasn't used to us using it so much and in two different states...). As of last night my phone went out. Today I was online "chatting" with a tech to try to fix it for an hour and a half. I was typing, running back to the computer room to troubleshoot for/with JOHN--checking wires, unplugging, plugging, finding the right port, etc. and making dinner for Grace. I'm coo-coo for cocoa puffs! It's still not fixed. It will be at least two days. Please, if you are trying to call me, don't leave a message because I can't get to them.
My point and the reason I am laughing is because I know it's not just funny or weird that this has happened. Twice. Ten years ago my life was going through an overhaul. I was separated from my husband, Donnie. I was completely changing my career path by attending nursing school. I was getting a new identity (but fighting it back then; I fought with myself a lot in those days, which is partly why the process to get it straighened out was so rocky, right?).
This time, I'm flowing with the changes. JOHN said I was "easy to work with". I got a good laugh out of that since, to me, none of it seemed easy...I was already laughing at myself because it's like a maze of wires back there, I know nothing about any of it... anyway, when he typed that, I laughed more. Thanks again wherever you are, JOHN.
I've been in the process of transformation for two and a half years--since the day I decided to be a writer in August of 2007. I am looking at this as a sign of culmination. This is the year I will get an agent and finally be published and paid for the work I've been doing. I just know it. Right when I found out from Saks Fifth Avenue security that someone from London was trying to use my name and Master Card to by a pair of $532 Gucci loafers,(I guess because I'd never shopped at Saks in my life is what tipped them off--and they were the first to notify me, not my card company, thanks Saks security--), I was stunned more at the fact that this was the second time in ten years that someone stole my identity. And I knew that I had to pay attention. An hour later, after speaking to someone from the credit card company, who told me about the trip to Italy, the notebook computer... I knew. This will be a pivotal year. I'm on my way to being able to afford a trip to Italy, regular hiking trips, an iPod or MP3 player, or something like that (I LOVE music and I'm still using a boom box and CDs--our stereo is out, too)and my very own notebook computer.
We must remember to laugh. Even when things seem to be going wrong--there's a reason. Just have faith and laugh and enjoy the growth.
I mentioned last week that my identity was stolen--actually, it was just one credit card that an international fraud ring got hold of, posing as me online in London, Berlin, D.C....they racked up about $4000 in charges within a few days. But the funny thing was that my identity had been stolen about 10 years ago. As I've mentioned in the first blog, I am not at all technically savvy; I'm not online often (well, when I'm researching for a writing project or something...I am),I do some online bill paying, but nothing is saved to the computer or anything like that. And ten years ago I had an email account that I never checked and that was it. So it's just funny that someone got me twice in ten years.
The first one, I never knew about until the bill collectors tracked me down a year later accusing me of hiding out. The person who opened the account lived in Ohio, gave a fake Ohio address and phone, and they knew my mom's maiden name. The charges added up to about $1000 and the card was never used after two large purchases, but it took me almost a year to get it resolved. Almost no one believed me and when I reached someone who did believe me, they had no idea what to do about it. It just wasn't as common back then. It was a constant game of phone calls, explaining my story over and over, most often on prejudiced ears (most made it perfectly clear that they thought I was lying...), two different people on two different occasions actually hung up on me midsentence and I promise you that I never raised my voice and I never used harsh words. I knew that each new person I spoke to had nothing to do with the person I had spoken to before. But for some reason, most of them seemed to form an immediate opinion about me often referring to me as "people like you". It was crazy. That's why it took nearly a year, because sometimes I needed to take a week off from the negativity coming at me through the phone with each call I made. Also, I was sent on wild goose chases by the few that tried to help me by guessing at what I should do (sending me to my own city police, who directed me to the Cleavland, Ohio police, who directed me right back to the credit card company...).
This time, among the charges were a trip to Italy, a notebook computer, backpacking gear, and $300 in music downloads. I said, "They're buying things that I want to buy for myself!...I'm Monica! I'm Monamana!" (that Friends episode...) And people do mispronounce "Meinema (say: MINE-eh-mah)" as "MoNAMana"! I've been planning to go to Italy for years now, but my goal was by 2010 ("italy2010" was one of my passwords to get to patient information on the hospital computers years ago)...Nate, Jen, and I were supposed to go...but then Joel lost his job, moved to AZ...so it will wait at least another year. Also, the day before I'd found out about the charges, I told myself that I needed to get my own laptop since my computer is going so slowly, it's old...and this is Jen's laptop I'm using until she needs it again in the summer when she has to give her school laptop back (she's a teacher).
And THEN: the very next day after I found out about the fraud charges and said I was Monamana/Monica, Nate turned on that episode of Friends. It's been at least a year or two since the last time Nate and I watched Friends and it's been months since we watched any TV show together (he was always swimming--oh, and he beat his goal of 26 seconds for the 50-Free, he gets 25's regularly--he's got that passion for it now), but there it was, just starting, the one where Monica becomes Monamana and takes dance lessons and tries out for a Broadway play with the girl who stole her identity.
So I'm laughing. And there's more, too much to tell. This is already so choppy, I know. Maybe I'll fix it later. Well, you know about my debit/credit card being declined...that's resolved, too (our bank wasn't used to us using it so much and in two different states...). As of last night my phone went out. Today I was online "chatting" with a tech to try to fix it for an hour and a half. I was typing, running back to the computer room to troubleshoot for/with JOHN--checking wires, unplugging, plugging, finding the right port, etc. and making dinner for Grace. I'm coo-coo for cocoa puffs! It's still not fixed. It will be at least two days. Please, if you are trying to call me, don't leave a message because I can't get to them.
My point and the reason I am laughing is because I know it's not just funny or weird that this has happened. Twice. Ten years ago my life was going through an overhaul. I was separated from my husband, Donnie. I was completely changing my career path by attending nursing school. I was getting a new identity (but fighting it back then; I fought with myself a lot in those days, which is partly why the process to get it straighened out was so rocky, right?).
This time, I'm flowing with the changes. JOHN said I was "easy to work with". I got a good laugh out of that since, to me, none of it seemed easy...I was already laughing at myself because it's like a maze of wires back there, I know nothing about any of it... anyway, when he typed that, I laughed more. Thanks again wherever you are, JOHN.
I've been in the process of transformation for two and a half years--since the day I decided to be a writer in August of 2007. I am looking at this as a sign of culmination. This is the year I will get an agent and finally be published and paid for the work I've been doing. I just know it. Right when I found out from Saks Fifth Avenue security that someone from London was trying to use my name and Master Card to by a pair of $532 Gucci loafers,(I guess because I'd never shopped at Saks in my life is what tipped them off--and they were the first to notify me, not my card company, thanks Saks security--), I was stunned more at the fact that this was the second time in ten years that someone stole my identity. And I knew that I had to pay attention. An hour later, after speaking to someone from the credit card company, who told me about the trip to Italy, the notebook computer... I knew. This will be a pivotal year. I'm on my way to being able to afford a trip to Italy, regular hiking trips, an iPod or MP3 player, or something like that (I LOVE music and I'm still using a boom box and CDs--our stereo is out, too)and my very own notebook computer.
We must remember to laugh. Even when things seem to be going wrong--there's a reason. Just have faith and laugh and enjoy the growth.
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