Wee Betty

Michelle tagged me to post a baby pic of wee Betty. Here she is at 3 years old. Prissy thing, wasn't she?

Research?

I have long wanted to write something based on my grandmother's (maternal grandmother's) life, as she told it to me. She grew up in St. Louis round the turn of the 20th century. She came from an Irish immigrant family. Her mother died when she was a child - thrown from a streetcar - and she and her two older sisters were farmed out to aunts, as their father was an alcoholic and not able to take care of the girls. My grandmother got the aunt who was, as my grandmother called her, an old harridan. Grams tried running away many times to join her sisters in Chicago, but always got hauled back to Aunt Alice...until she didn't, and made it to Chicago to join her sisters. There she met and married the boy next door, a blacksmith and prize-fighter, my Gramps.

Okay. Good stuff. Lots to base a good story around. I have lots of little Grams-tales to add, too.

But, this takes research. Lots of it.

Now I do love history and that's not the problem, but I keep seeing the "C's" on all my efforts that took research in high school through college. It just wasn't my thing, I guess. I get very impatient with details, you see. I know they are needed, but they frustrate the heck out of me when I'm focused on "the bigger picture."

This may be different, I don't know. I may have "grown up." I also know that once the story is down, lots of the details can be changed and filled out. That's what you do when you write. Slice, dice and edit. I know what that's like. I've done it often enough. I do pay attention to the details there, because it is...well, my passion.

I have something else I've been working on, a fantasy novel. Doesn't mean I couldn't work on them both, does it?

And I did live and work in St. Louis for awhile myself during my former husband's seminary days - across from Forest Park where the 1904 World's Fair took place. I have a sense of St. Louis.

I keep debating with myself - should I or shouldn't I? Would it be a waste of time and another disappointment?

I Am Not Well-balanced

So...physical gotten, fitness evaluated. I'm alive, 59 years old and, due to sitting in front of a computer all day at work, overweight (Yeah, like I didn't know that!), my cholesterol and blood sugar are way too high, and my balance is wonky.

I found myself telling Chris, my fitness trainer (Oh, that does sound impressive, doesn't it?)that I used to be a dancer, like somehow that was going to make my balance return in a *blink* and she'd be so impressed. Good grief! I got home and realized that the last dancing lessons I took were 32 years ago, before I got pregnant with the Critter!

Not that there hasn't been physical activity in the interim. I walked, chased children, worked out at a friend's physical fitness shop with the accurate name Body by You, and I took the occasional Yoga class. But, for the most part, I've been sedentary due to my work choices for the last 15+ years. It takes its toll.

And then there's the fact that I'm post menopause. Ugh. I will not go into the disgusting details of how that effects one's body. But I will mention one observation.

That balance thing. I actually realized I was through the bloody (no pun intended) transition for the first time, because I noticed that my center of gravity had changed. Where the heck was it now? I felt like I'd lost my anchor and was floating six inches off the floor and grasping for the walls. I've been looking for that anchor ever since. Hence, the wonky balance.

Very disconcerting for a stick-in-the-mud Capricorn like me. I have to make sense of things. Be grounded.

I traveled through menopause during the most chaotic period of my life. I was totally and completely uprooted, my life turned upside down and sideways. Very synchronous, I'd say.

But I've set down a few roots again...tentatively and very skeptically...shakily. It's new ground for me, just like being on the other side of this menopause thing. I'm looking for that balance, but it just isn't the same, ya know?

But why should I expect it to be?

I feel like a pioneer looking for that "perfect" piece of land.

Fit for What?

And I thought my doctor would be thrilled I was going to start a fitness program! DOH!

I went to the doc for yet another sinus infection and happened to mention that I was going to be starting a fitness program at the place where I went for physical therapy for my tennis elbow and this wonky neck of mine. I'm thinking she'll be pleased and pat me on the back, yes?

No. Instead she gets all big-eyed and reaches out like she's going to grab my arm! She composes herself and tells me that I have to get a physical before I start because she doesn't want me dropping from a heart attack! Yeeooowwwch! She then goes on to tell me like a soothing mother hen (she's maybe all of 35 and I just had my 59th b'day) that women don't exhibit symptoms like men do and when they take on something like this they can drop from an "episode."

Woof! Talk about feeling old.

Anyhow, I'm getting the physical Monday.

Yes, Mom.

Purrrr...

I was grumbling and annoyed this morning - sinus infection, earache, and what was that Caucus all about anyway? And then I happened on this.

I have no idea what the music is all about (It's obviously Japanese), but the photography is amazing!

I'm smiling. I'm purring. Think I'll go snuggle down with Fox for a nap and let the world go hang for a bit.

The Meaning of Christmas?

Michelle tagged me with the challenge to write about "What Christmas Means to You." Her post is below and mine follows.

As a child Christmas was the love of family holding me safe and stories of magic and miracles.

As I got older I grew to realise that there are deeper forms of love and more subtle forms of gift-giving. The love of God giving his son to the world is echoed every day in the love of good people making sacrifices for each other without regrets. The love of friends and family giving time and sharing, understanding and laughter. The love of a life partner giving more than there are words to describe. And the more you embrace that truth of love the more the gifts grow.

Christmas is a reminder that love is more than an emotion
– it is the energy of miracles.

Michelle



The Meaning of Christmas?

I'm not sure that I can tell you anymore. It's not that I don't know. I've lived most of my life fully in the "Reason for the Season," family embraces, children's smiles and expectant giggles, the words of Luke 2: 1-20, the aromatic fumes of Glogg, all thirteen verses of "Good King Wencelas," and singing "Still, Still, Still" in a trio while tears rolled down my cheeks.

I knew it. I lived it. It is still part of me, too. It lives broadly, expansively, lovingly, and gloriously in my memories.

But life moves on and changes, evolves, into things we could never have expected. And the Gift doesn't seem so nicely and tidily wrapped up in shiny paper and bright bows any more, to be trotted out once a year, or even every Sunday and on choir nights.

The Gift has slowly become me - and, believe me, that's not tidy at all! Now, I'm not saying I'm God! Hah! Not at all. But God is in me, part of me. God's not "out there" tied up in the pretty boxes of current religious thought, Walmart's low prices, Wii, and the subprime rate. Nope. The Gift is here in this chubby, old lady with white hair, tennis elbow and sinus problems every morning I wake up. Kind of repulsive when I put it that way, but there it is - the Meaning of Christmas is messy. God made manifest - the Gift amid the messiness.

Go find your Gift this Christmas!

Basket Case

Baskets! I love 'em! I'm not sure what draws me to them or what it says about me, but I have a thing for them.

Today is cleaning day. We just recently had our kitchen painted and are just now putting back the decorations we want back on the walls and above the cabinets. I had several of my baskets up there along with a birdhouse I'm particularly fond of. On our next Flea Market jaunt I believe I'll start looking for more birdhouses to go along with my baskets.

But I have a question for all you housecleaning wizards. (Which I am definitely NOT!) How do you clean your baskets? I'm always afraid of damaging the colors when I use sponge and water or any other liquid cleaner. Just wipe them with a cloth? What?