12 Things - I learned this week

1. I am not a good patient in the hospital -- well, I am when I have to be there, I think (like when I had meningitis). But when I don't have to be there? I am a whiny, crying baby.

2. I have a malfunctioning gallbladder -- because my gallbladder didn't want The Monkey to have all the fun, so it decided to be disobedient, too.

3. A malfunctioning gallbladder and a hedonist personality do not mix -- Because now I can't have chocolate. Or bacon. Or chocolate covered bacon. For the rest of my life.

4. I can have chocolate and bacon... if I want to be in a LOT of pain -- and I'm not down with pain.

5. My spirituality goes all to hell when I'm in the hospital -- I just couldn't bring myself to be kind of compassionate when my roommate was snoring like a buzzsaw, which prevented me from sleeping, but DID make me cry like a baby.

6. My spirituality comes right back when I'm home & can reflect on my blessings -- I am incredibly grateful for all the love and kindness that was sent my way over the last couple of days. I am wholly blessed and loved, which goes a long way toward the healing process.

7. The Nancarita is precious -- she was all freaking out that she couldn't be with me in the hospital, despite being the one that was taking care of The Trolls while I was in there, ergo, relieving me of any worry I had about their care.

8. The Boyfriend™ is a blessing -- I don't think I can ever adequately express how good he is. I'll spare y'all the schmoopiness.

9. Everything has fat in it -- and having to live a mostly fat-free lifestyle now, I am becoming increasingly paranoid about anything I put in my mouth. My gallbladder has turned me into one of Pavlov's dogs.

10. I am a mama bear when I can't be near The Trolls -- those are my chicks, y'all. And even though I know they're being well taken care of, being forced to not see them does not make me happy.

11. The Best Friend (R) is adorable -- home girl hung out until she was absolutely sure I was being discharged... despite having much more amusing things planned with her kid-free evening. That's friendship right there.

12. There's nothing more restorative and therapeutic than a kiss and hug from The Trolls.

Thoughts on knitting... while knitting

Undiagnosed ADD is not something one should have when they undertake a hobby such as knitting. I mean, unless they want to make potholders all the time. Then undiagnosed ADD is perfect for knitting.

Basically, I have no patience. None. Zip. Zero. Nada. For instance, when The Trolls were born, I expected them to come already knowing stuff, like how to go on the potty... or change their own diapers. I just don't have the constitution for things like follow through -- or knitting, as it turns out.

Part of my problem is hyper-focusing. I get so excited about a new project that I eat, sleep and breathe it. I binge on a new project and then, inevitably, I purge. I get bored. The novelty wears off, and then it's just too easy to get distracted by something shiny. Seriously, y'all, I'm surprised I've kept up with this blog as well (and for as long) as I have.

If these blog posts were time stamped, you'd see that there was exactly ten minutes between them. That's my point. I blogged, I went back to knitting, got bored and came back to blog about being bored.

All of the wisdom from the people I've asked say that you should do things in small snippets, especially when you're living a dream while still working a day job (and doing the full-time, single mom routine). I've been trying to follow their advice because, well, they know stuff. But part of my problem is that small snippets leave way too much room for lack-of-completion. I have seven different paintings mid-way through. My living  room is still not completely rearranged. The nine loads of laundry I came home to? Still muddling my way through that (a load sits, unfolded, on my dining room table as we speak). So when it comes to this knitting stuff, especially since I wasn't kidding about scarves for Christmas, I gotta buckle down and get some shit done.

This is part of the purpose of the life list -- to learn. To combat that which is counterproductive to your nature and get rid  of it. Or, at the very least, make it work to your advantage.

So, this time, I really am going to go back to knitting. I'm going to carpe the hell out of this lesson. I am going to do the task for the task's sake.

Wish me luck.


....Ooo... shiny!

Life List Updates and Wednesday Night Randomness

Goal #40 - Learn to crochet. Once-upon-a-time, I actually knew how to crochet. Nothing fancy, mind you, but enough to keep my hands busy. I'm of the opinion that we humans are much like computers -- there's only so much memory. So, when I had to learn something new (like lyrics to another song -- you don't even want to know how many songs I know the lyrics to), I unlearned how to crochet.

A while back, I was at Michael's and I picked up one of those kits you get 'tween girls to keep them crafty and wholesome. The one in particular was a knitting craft kit. I held onto it for a bit and lost track of it (which, believe it or not, is easy to do in 900 square feet action packed full of crap). I was rearranging my house the other day and came across it again and decided to pull it out and see what I could make of it. Before I knew it, my house was only 1/2 rearranged and I was ensconced in my favorite chair knitting the hell out of a scarf.



So, it's not crocheting, but it is knitting and I'm gonna call this goal done. One of my co-workers is a master crochet-er and she's willing to teach me how to -- and maybe I'll take her up on the offer -- but, for now, I'm pretty damn happy knowing how to knit.

Note to friends on the Christmas list -- guess what you're getting??

And in other news...

I have Internet access at home again! But now I'm feeling all this pressure to get out on the web and do stuff. Why is it that a connected computer makes me feel like I added about eleventy billion things to my to do list?

Speaking of Internet -- Facebook is starting to become the bane of my existence. I'm torn between canceling my account and keeping it active so I can keep tabs on my nearest and dearest. I mean, Facebook saves me the trouble of having to actually call people, but then there's that whole I should call thing. Facebook stalking is so much more convenient, but...

I think you can see my conundrum.

Oh, but wait! There's MORE.

So, apparently, I have this inexplicable stomach issue that worried my co-workers enough to forcibly evict me from the office to go see my doctor, who, in turn, was worried enough about what was going on to send me for an ultrasound (he thought it might be my gallbladder). When the ultrasound didn't show anything, I got to experience the joys of a contrast CT scan.

CT Scans are actually kind of fun -- and the contrast stuff makes you all warm in the good places. Totally worth the big-ass bruise on my hand from the IV

Just in case you wanted to know.

In all the randomness of the last couple of days, I got to experience some really wonderful moments of connectivity. My nurse today is, apparently, going through a painful divorce. I was able to reach out to her and offer her some of the wisdom gleaned from my experience in the same kind of place she's in now. My heart ached for her, because I know how raw this place is, that she's in. Her eyes oozed the vulnerability that she was trying very hard to cover up.

I remember all too vividly that place -- putting on a brave front; trying desperately not to cry in front of total and complete strangers. I gave her a hug and wished I could do more for her than offer her five minutes of camaraderie.

I also learned that, no matter how old you get, sometimes you just really need your mommy. Fortunately, my mommy was willing to mommy me, which made me feel tons better than I thought it would. And she totally didn't call me out about being a big whiny baby.

Last, but most certainly not least -- The Boyfriend™. Good lord am I ever grateful for that man! I'll spare you the schmoopiness, but let me just say that you know you're loved when someone feels guilty for wanting to go home when his car breaks down on the side of the road (who wouldn't?), but still comes over because you feel like ass. Who still hugs and cuddles you, despite your looking like utter and complete shit, making you feel like a princess on a throne, and who will still be a smart-ass just to remind you that even though you're sick, he will stay exquisitely and beautifully just who he is.

I'm off to try to knit some more... and bask in the glow of love and gratitude.

Special Guest Post from Magpie Girl

Hello my lovelies!

I'm very, very excited to be sharing my blog space with Rachelle Mee-Chapman, of Magpie Girl. As I've mentioned previously, I'm all about synchronistic moments, and stumbling onto Magpie Girl was another one of those moments. Rachelle provides soul care for artists and her messages and inspiration (most recently about taming the monkey mind... ooo... shiny!) have provided a great deal of help while I'm on my journey toward living my most authentic life.

In honor of her birthday, Rachelle is doing 30 Stories in 30 Days -- answering questions posed by we artists in the blogosphere. She stopped on by Fearlessly Phobic to answer my question:

Q: How do you chase your dreams while still having to do the have-to’s without burning out?

The language of your question is revealing in and of itself. Did you notice your verb? Chase. It’s quite driven isn’t it? Not just compelled but also propelled.

Many of us feel that our life is like this – pushed around by forces that are not within our control. It can be maddening to try to figure out how to make space for one’s creative dreams, while still doing the work, chores, and child-rearing of everyday life.  Here are some tips and techniques I’ve found helpful.

- Adjust to right-fit expectations. Notice I didn’t say “lower” your expectations. This is not about setting your sights low, it’s about healthy function. Be realistic about the amount of time and space you have for your dreams, and trust that this is enough. (And it will be.)

- Work in small snippets. Sometimes we don’t work on our dream because we want a big chunk of time in which we can do it all at once. Even ten-minute increments will add up to a finished project eventually. Do what you can when you can.



-Do Less. One of the issues I see in my coaching practice is that people are not willing to do less to make space for their dreams. Your kids might not be able to be in two sports. You might not be able to be in your book any more. Dinners might have to get a lot simpler. Society tells us a lot of “shoulds,” but really very few of them are essential. You can to Do Less to Live More.

-Rest. You cannot pursue your dreams when you are drop-dead tired. Get sleep. Practice Sabbath. Take a day off. You have to fill-up to create something new. Even a little rest can shore you up for a new burst of creativity.

- Make a Pact. When you are spinning a dream, having a withmate can be a big help. Together, you can help each other focus, set right-fit goals, and break each other out of stuck points. What might a creative partnership look like for you?

What about you? What are your tips and techniques for getting your chore list done and pursuing your dreams? We’d love to hear what works for you, because “there ain’t nowhere to go but together.”

Rachelle Mee-Chapman, specializes in customized soulcare for spiritual misfits. She works with clients at Magpie Girl to help them find a spirituality that fits; and hosts Flock, an online soulcare community. You can learn more about her creative approach in her free ecourse, Magpie Speak: a new vocabulary for soulcare.
Friend :: Follow :: Presents!

Hey! Boston! There's a whole rest of a state to the west of you!

Pictures from my trip home:

Random guy, enjoying the scenery. Potholes, Buckland, MA

Down the river from the potholes.

 

I forgot what the exact symbolism is for the stones, but these line the path on the way to the Peace Pagoda

The Boyfriend, taking pictures of the stacked stones. I took pictures of him.

Ooo... depth of field. Fancy! Actually, I really like this one.

Prayer flags that line the koi pond and woods, surrounding the  pagoda.

Some fancy flower on the Bridge of Flowers in Buckland, MA

Things I'm Grateful For - Part 8

I originally started this entry while on the plane ride to Florida, back from Massachusetts (my home state). Either the Xanax (necessary for my being able to fly – damn turbulence) was working overtime or the freshness of the trip was making the words rather bitter, so I shelved the entry until I had at least one full day “back to normal” with which to process the last couple of days.

Since moving to Florida in the summer of 2005, I have not been back to Massachusetts during the fall – admittedly my favorite time of year. This was not for any particular reason other than I just hadn’t made it up there. But I think, subliminally, I hadn’t made the journey north during the autumn because New England falls have a unique magic all their own; it captivates and enthralls you – even one such as me, who thought herself pretty immune to foliage – and you find yourself pricing houses and wondering how many cords of wood you’ll need for the upcoming winter.

"Downtown" Buckland, MA

As fate my begging would have it, I wound up working a trade show in Marlborough, MA this past weekend. My bosses bestowed their benevolence on me by allowing me to piggy-back a mini-vacation onto the trade show trip (it helped that it was significantly cheaper for the company for me to fly back on a Tuesday, rather than that Sunday).

Side note: The Boyfriend™ was born and raised in Florida. The furthest north he’s ever traveled, in this country, was to West Virginia (he was in Michigan when he was a baby, but that hardly counts, since he doesn’t really remember it).

Because I was already headed home, I begged and cajoled nagged The Boyfriend™ into coming with me, to see my roots. I figured it would be best to place myself “in context” by way of explaining some of my rather – to a Southern-born mind – eccentric way of being. In need of a vacation outside of Florida, The Boyfriend™ acquiesced and I picked him up from Logan Airport and we made our way to Western Mass.

The Boyfriend™ being intensely touristy. See the look on his face? Intense.

Side Note: There is an entire state west of Boston. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe – even the maps Enterprise Car Rental was handing out stopped exactly at Interstate 91 – but Western Mass exists. Where do you think people go to get liquor on a Sunday?

I pre-warned The Boyfriend™ -- who hates long car rides about as much as I hate flying – that there would be a lot of driving involved in this trip, mostly because my grandmothers now live 45 minutes apart from each other, and they were my priority for the day. Because The Boyfriend™ is delightful and incredibly understanding of my weirdness, he was mostly good-natured about my neurotic, road trip-filled behavior (the man seriously needs to be nominated for sainthood. I am no picnic – even on the best of days). I think it helped that my family was incredibly accepting of him (read: they just went along about their normal behavior, as if The Boyfriend™ had always been there), and he could just ease himself in.

The last time I was home, I was rather melancholic about it; home didn’t feel like home anymore. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to be nomadic for a bit longer, until I either found where home was or I made peace with New England again, so I could return, but other than that didn’t pay my melancholy much mind. Home feels less so when you stay away long enough. It’s the nature of the beast.

I must’ve made peace with New England, when I wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes that happens to me – must be the perpetual distraction by shiny things.

While driving hither and yon, this quote from Rumi was a constant refrain in the back of my mind:

It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away, so that when I’ve gone and come back, I’ll find it at home.

HOME!

Suddenly, I was home. It wasn’t just the place I was from – this was home. A sense of peace overcame me and I was looking at familiar streets through a different set of eyes. I was aware of everything and the beauty of it all – how food tasted better, the water more pure. As poetically trite as this is, my heart literally sang with joy. HOME!

The Boyfriend™, apparently, feels similarly. That, let me assure you, was not something I was prepared for. In fact, I was prepared for everything but his falling in love with Massachusetts. After all, Florida is what he knows; it’s where he was born and raised. He’s always been within a stone’s throw of an ocean – and the Pioneer Valley is certainly not an ocean; and while the Connecticut River is pretty, it’s not nearly as warm as the Gulf of Mexico.

But I should’ve been prepared. I should’ve known that the foliage would be a succubus. I should’ve known that he’d experience the first good night’s sleep he’s had in a dog’s age (New England air has that effect). I should’ve recognized that one of the things that attracted me to The Boyfriend™ in the first place was a similarity in spirit to my beloved New England. Perhaps, it’s why I wanted to take him home for Halloween to begin with – I must’ve known on some level that he’d love it.

I knew I’d be weepy and nostalgic – even though home hadn’t felt like home for quite some time, I still miss the holy hell out of my family – and the Xanax would be doing double-duty to calm my frazzled flying nerves as well as my heartbreak at leaving my family, but I was prepared to suffer that alone. Turns out, I don’t have to. The Boyfriend™ misses home as much as I do.

Update on Life List Goal #69

And it is done...ish. The Boyfriend got to experience -- albeit briefly -- a real New England fall.

Added bonus: I now know how much he loves me (read: he can, good-naturedly, put up with me in neurotic traveling mode).

Down side: I miss home truly, madly, deeply.