Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving had its ups and downs this year, as most holidays do. I remember Mom warning me at a young age about holidays and birthdays - don't have too high expectations lest you be disappointed.

My mother-in-law, Sandy, came down from Sheboygan and is still here. We had a quiet Thanksgiving dinner (with the occasional Atrus or Gabrielle whine) and a great weekend.

I had two cavities filled on Friday - but the rest of the day was much better! Lee worked and Sandy, the kids and I cleaned our butts off because we were having Sandy's family coming in for a visit on Saturday. The house needed a good cleaning (a wood house, all wood floors, all wood everything) and I dare say Aislyn was the best cleaner. She was SUCH a help - the best sweeper and she'd do just about anything without even being asked. What an eleven year old! :)

Sandy let Lee and I go out last night and we couldn't think of anywhere to go because the movies we wanted to see weren't playing by us yet... so we went to HyVee Grocery Store and to Dennys to get something to drink. Then we parked by the lake and had some romantic moments. Awwwwwww. ;)

Today was a great day. I met Sandy's little sister, Kathy and her family - which included a girl a year older than Aislyn. After some awkwardness, the two of them got on very well. Atrus was shy at first, too, but he came out of his shell. Sandy's sister-in-law was there too - as well as Kathy's son and husband. It was such a joyous celebration of family. I loved meeting family that was new to me. It was such a unique feeling... thinking... wow... this is my step-cousin... or step-aunt...

Well, we're going to watch the blu-ray of Star Trek now and they're calling me over...so I best get going.

Tell me how your Thanksgivings were!

Until then, here's Lee and me lovin each other up with our eyes. :)



fin.

The Personal and the Pastoral

I want to trespass on new poetic ground. I have made the realization that I have grown bored with my poetry. That sounds harsh. What I mean to say is that I find that my poetry has gone stale. It's too narrative-driven. It's too confessional. I have no problem with confessionalism, except for the ties it has to gas ovens, carbon monoxide-filled garages and McLean Hospital. I once wrote that I will be "the Sylvia Plath that lived."

Well, now I want to be the Lisa Marie Brodsky, the only poet who writes like I do, the only poet who has my style. That is asking a lot in today's poetic society where MFA programs dispense poets like candy. And hey, I am one of those pieces of candy. And don't we all want to be unique?

A few nights ago, I thought how I wanted to become more lyrical in my poetic works. I was re-reading "Carnival Evening," a collection of Linda Pastan's poems. It is one of my favorite books by one of my favorite poets. I think she combines that feel of confessionalism and lyricism so well. As does my all-time favorite contemporary poet, Beckian Fritz Goldberg (best book by her - "In the Badlands of Desire").

Beckian Fritz Goldberg is phenomenal at giving you surprising images and metaphors and Linda Pastan is amazing in the beauty of such simplicity of language. I am using "Carnival Evening" as a gateway for me to begin to write with more images, description and less talk-to-you narration.

I'll never get away from my roots, where I came from... Plath, Tori Amos... my own life... I need to write in order to live. It is my therapy, but it is my gift to the world. Is that a conceited thing to say? Not if you know where I'm coming from. It is my legacy. I'm not made to have my own baby so my poems act as my offspring. I write to make sense, I write to open up questions, to radiate answers. I have always called myself a "tender warrior," one who struggles a lot in this life, who was born to struggle and survive it all over and over again.

But I want to write, looking at things and bringing out the color, detail, smell, everything. The pastoral, a la the Romantic poets. I want to take in everything I do, all the details.

So somehow I've got to combine the personal and the pastoral.

Tonight I'm going to Barnes and Noble to read some books I've not thought to look at before and take it all in. The newness of it all.

Thank you for reading about my poetic journey, and, as always, thank you for reading about my life journey.

fin.

My Mother, the Sun, on this, her 3rd Year Gone.

So here is the day I've been dreading since last November 6th. What do I think will happen to me on the 6th of November each year? I cry so often for my mother every other day that isn't the 6th of November, why is this day any different?

Perhaps because I woke up at 1:35am and remembered it was 1:30am that my step-father called me on November 6th, 2006 and said, hoarsely, before the news, "Be strong, be stong!"

Yesterday I had therapy and I walked in irritable and cranky. I was clearly trying to repress my grief. My therapist, Bonnie, worked with me and we finally opened me up and I let the tears fall. One thing I love about Bonnie is that she encourages you to make all those messy sounds you make while crying. Let it all out, all the noises, all the sounds, she says. She brought out her yoga mat and pillow and I laid down upon it and hugged her Mama Amma doll and just let it all out. In that moment, it was okay to be a little girl missing her mommy. I finally calmed down and we talked more, about a lot of things. I had a headache that went from my "Third Eye" to my crown area and by the end of the session, I was pain-free. I felt more open and more comfortable than I have in weeks. This is why I adore my therapist so much.

I cried again last night, in bed, as I knew I'd be falling asleep, at the mercy of my subconscious, not knowing what kind of dream or nightmare I'd had. As it happened, I had an unrelated dream, though I kind of wish Mom was in it and visited me in some capacity.

Four nights ago, she came to me in my dreams and adorned my wrists with rubies. I looked up on google what rubies meant in a healing gemstone sense and - of course - it is used to put under your pillow to ward off bad dreams. I completely think Mom told me, in my dream, to get a ruby to put under my pillow to help with my chronic nightmares and vivid dreams. That makes me happy. Today I shall visit Granite Winds in Middleton to buy myself a ruby, as Mom suggested.

And the sun, as for the sun -- today was supposed to be mostly cloudy, little to no sun. Well, Mom will show you, weather forecasters! I was on the computer after I awoke and after typing in my facebook status about Mom, the sun came in through the living room windows and warmed the whole room. Just as I knew at my wedding, the mysterious sun came out just when needed, I knew it was Mom's doing. Okay, maybe God and the lords of weather.... but I am sure that Mom had something to do with it.

Oh Mom, when will this get easier? I was told in the beginning it will not get easier, just different. For the first two anniversaries, there was a newness to it that made me think she might come back (irrational thought that that was). But this, her 3rd year, makes me realize that this is going to be a pattern of increasing numbers. By the time "Motherlung" is published, it will be 6 years gone. One day it will be 10 years gone. Then 20. Her absence is more permanent this year and that, in itself, is more reason to mourn.

If you are grieving someone... or know someone who is grieving a loss... please don't give yourself or anyone else a timeline of grief. I had at least two ex-boyfriends who said to me, "aren't you over it yet?" I stared incredulously at them (one, only a month after she died... he was very young and naive and without grief) and you can be sure we broke up soon after due to differences in maturity and understanding levels.

That's why I'm happy I'm with Lee. He constantly makes the effort to see if he can help me in any way - be that giving me space or talking with me. He understands my inner workings, even if he doesn't think he does. But Lee, my love, you do. We are "made of sterner stuff," as one favorite poet says and we understand each other well. And keep learning more each day.

So don't say to yourself or anyone else, "are you over it yet?" There is NO timeline on grief. It's different for everyone. Everyone's heart ticks to a different beat that resonates with a different song of the Universe.

In conclusion, I'll leave you with the lyrics to a song by Mary Fahl... "The Dawning of the Day." A beautiful song that I try to listen to in the morning if I can... in awe of the sun, the skies, even the clouds.

This morning early I walked on
while my darling was in a dream
The last sweet days of summer bloomed
and dressed the trees in green
Then soaring high in the gleaming sky
from far across the bay
came a fearsome roar from a distant shore
at the dawning of the day

Then I called my men to follow me
knowing well that the view was dim
Though tired and worn, how they fought all morn'
as time was closing in
And my heart was sad though sore with pride
for brave lads all were they
As the angels fly, how they climbed so high
on the dawning of the day

But the edge is moving nearer now
inside the fading sun
and calling, calling out to them
my brothers, one by one
But only dust silence sounds
The ashes float away
as the twilight ends and the night descends
'til the dawning of the day

Forgive me love, I'm going now
so very far away
When darkness falls, only think me near
and do not be afraid
And please don't grieve when I am gone
Abide in what remains
'til the shadows end and we meet again
on the dawning of the day

For when shadows end,
we shall meet again
on the dawning of the day

fin.

When One Door Closes, Another Opens

So my apologies for the morose and maudlin previous blog entry. I'm feeling much better today. And, I guess, that's just how it goes sometimes. I can feel the PMDD cloud far, far away. I'm enjoying my husband and kids. I reconnected with a dear old friend who needs my help and support and I am dedicated to the cause. I feel needed and worthy.

It was curious last night: Lee was doing his 3D tutorials and I was sitting on the couch writing (the kids were in bed) and I took down Sylvia Plath's Collected Poems and began to thumb through it. I found some good lines that helped me write my own poems. The poems, themselves, were desolate and depressing and yet I did not FEEL desolate and depressing. It felt as if these poems had been "waiting in the wings" until I had time to let them out onto the page. I was glad I didn't feel the ache and sadness while I was writing. I felt like I had bottled up so much emotion and here I was letting it out. And yet I was distanced from it. It felt good. I don't know if the poems, themselves, are any good, but sometimes they don't need to be. They are just cathartic.

On the flip side, I submitted to two online journals and that always makes me feel good. I love writing in my cover letter that I have a full-length collection coming out in 2012 (I actually say "forthcoming" instead of the year). I'm insanely excited about the fact that "Motherlung" will be published and by my dear friends at Salmon Publishing.

Yesterday, Lee and I took the kiddos to the playland at McDonalds so they can let out some energy. It was a great time as we got to see some kids in Halloween costume. One boy was Wolverine and Atrus kept calling him a bumblebee. Gabrielle showed us her wiley ways for the first time - she approached him and started talking to him and before we knew it she was holding his hand and bringing him up the jungle gym. And he was following! That girl will surely get what she wants out of boys in the future. Haha.

The kids go home to their mom's house today and Lee and I are going to our friend, Eric's, apartment for a little football party. I am the least likely person to go to a sports game party, but my brother-in-law and his girlfriend will be there so that will be nice. And - free food! What can beat that?

So I want to assure you that from the dark and desolate days of this past week - and the last blog entry - comes light shining in the door of my life. It always gets better.

fin.

Motherless Daughter Struggles as Stepmother

It's not always like this. It's because Mom's 3rd anniversary of her passing on is next week. I am becoming child-like and want her. I cry every day and night for her loss. Plus, I have PMDD this month, as usual, and I feel like an alien version of myself. It's hard to be a stepmother to these kids when I feel so child-like, myself, and want my mother so badly. I feel as though I'm falling down a hole. I love them so much, but my heart feels battered and bruised by the trauma of losing my mother and I don't feel like I have any love to give out at this moment. Will it always be like this?

Some people think 3 years is enough to "get over" the loss of someone. I heartily and strongly disagree. 3 years is nothing. 10 years is nothing. I shall never be the same. Part of me thinks I'm stuck at 28, mourning her the day she died.

Now I understand why Virginia Woolf walked into the lake, pocket full of stones. Why Sylvia Plath turned on the oven. Why Anne Sexton closed the garage doors. I'm in no danger of doing any of those things; my suicidal days are long behind me. But every so often I get a peek into that world. I remember what it feels like to lose everything - hope, love, everything.

I feel like a lesser, gray, deadened version of myself. Grief is written all over my body. My hormones are out of alphabetical order. They are mis-matched, divorced from what they are supposed to be.

When will I feel like myself again?

fin.

Hi Kathy!!

Part of marriage that I love is that you gain family - for better or for worse, haha. In this case, Kathy, it is definitely for the better. I adore Sandy and after the death of my own mother three years ago, I find such comfort in knowing I have
Sandy as a mother-in-law. I'm so glad you found my blog. This isn't actually the blog Sandy was talking about - I think she meant the family website - see the list of links for the Auter Website on the right bar. But I welcome you to my personal blog. Not many family members know about this one as I am brutally honest about life and my place in it here. But if you'll forgive a little maudlin emotions and some sadness and fear - as well as joy and happiness - you are welcome to keep reading. :)

I'm so happy you got in touch with me in the comments section. Feel free to email me, too, at lisa.auter@gmail.com

Marriage is going splendidly, it really is. Lee and I are so in love sometimes it makes me crazy not seeing him every second of the day. Is that how it is for newlyweds? I hope that never changes. :)

The kids are off school today and tomorrow. Aislyn and Gabrielle made their own "computers" out of construction paper and I have to say it was quite a creative idea!

Atrus started day care just for the days I work part-time (Mon, Tues, Wed) and he seems to like it there. I felt like such a mom when I dropped him off for the first time... I got choked up leaving him there. I wanted him to have a good day so badly.

Thanks for liking my dimples, as you said in your comments post. I find I like them, too, but I have to wonder how they'll look when I'm 80 years old and all wrinkly. haha.

Well, I ought to start some cereal for the little ones. I'm so excited to be in contact with you and I hope we can talk more over email soon!

fin.

p.s. Once in a while, ever year or so, I explain the title of this blog. "Romantic Circus Songs" was the title of my thesis for my Masters in Fine Arts in Poetry in 2005. I decided to name it that here, too. And I end each entry with "fin" because that is "end" in French and in the poem "Romantic Circus Songs," there is an old washed-up French trapeze artist, hence the French "Fin."

Bliss

The CHANT CD on.
Apple-cream candle lit.
Cat lying beside me on a blanket.
Lee at the main computer, absorbed in 3D.

Bliss.

I'm relishing the time to ourselves before the kids get here tomorrow afternoon for their week with us. It's so quiet and sweet-smelling here. Don't get me wrong; I love my kids and enjoy having them here. But I also enjoy the time they are not here, when it is just husband and myself.

Tonight, I'm going to Lauren's, as I usually do on Saturday nights while Lee games online. She and I will play with Alexandria and then, once the wee one is in bed, we'll watch my DVD of the first season of "thirtysomething." Aaahh.

Today, Lee hung up a painting that we had gotten from my side of the family for our wedding. We pre-chose it; it was on our Target wedding registry. It's a beautiful painting of a road winding around and bare trees in the mist standing stately, edging the road. It's a sepia-colored painting. Truly breathtaking. I love looking at it. So mysterious. I think it says, "We are on a path, but know not where we go." Which is ok.

Last night, I let my mind wander and it wandered to Taos, NM, where Natalie Goldberg teaches writing. Hear that, Miriam? I think I just may write her and ask for a scholarship or something for 2 weeks out there. I so desperately want it and I haven't gone after it because I somehow think I'm unfit for it. Bullocks! Of course I am deserving. I've been reading her books since high school. So, soon, I will put nervous pen to paper and write her a letter on why she should sponsor me. Look out, Taos!

We've had quite the ill house these past two weeks. First with the kids, and then, on our week off, Lee and I became extremely sick and now you can still hear the echoing of phlegmy coughs and the hacking up of lungs.

Speaking of hacking up a lung, I saw the movie "Bright Star" last night with Heather. It's about John Keats' love affair with Fanny Brawne and how passionate it was. He ultimately dies of tuberculosis at age 25, thinking himself a failure when, in fact, in years to come, he would be the definitive poet of the Romantic Age. Good movie.

It made me come home and light candles (I was home alone) and write a love letter to Lee, in hopes that he never catches TB. I clutched him when he came home, like a lover does when their own comes home from a long time at sea.

fin.

As The Day Approaches...

Though Autumn holds a very painful time for me (my mother's death on Nov. 6, 2006), I've been trying to take in this year's Autumn differently - to not be held prisoner by my grief.

I love driving in the Autumn. Even when it's rainy, like it is today. The colors of the leaves just leap off the branches and brighten up the sky. I see them as little, colored light bulbs, giving us our last bit of light before the season turns to slumber and Winter approaches. I was grateful as I drove home from a doctor appt. today - to be witness to the beauty of the trees, even as the rain sloshed the leaves down and as they stuck to the cars and streets.

I was listening to the radio and the old 70s/early 80s song, "Just the Two of Us" came on, reminding me of Mom. She used to say that was one of "our songs." It was just the two of us, she said, "building castles in the sky."

I was young when she said that. And I would roll my eyes and say, "Mooooommmmm, that's SO corny!!!!!"

Thinking back on that, I feel sad. As I grew older, I grew to love her corniness and, especially now that she's gone, I miss that the most. I hope she knew I was just young and embarrassed by any from of outward verbal or physical affection.

I hear that song and I think, yes, it was just the two of us, for so many years.

In regards to my own family, in the here and now, the past two weeks have been a flurry of severe sickness. Aislyn came over with a 103 degree fever and Lee took her to the hospital. She came home - did not have the H1N1 flu, but soon after, five-year-old Gabrielle came down with the flu as well, though less severe. Atrus was sent home to stay with his mom, but he ended up getting sick, too. We haven't heard from Jenny how Atrus is doing. We assume no news is good news, but you never know with her.

I started a new temp job after seven months of not working!! I am very pleased with it, though I had to miss my 2nd day due to a high temperature of 103.7 degrees. But yesterday I went back. I'm a pharmacy technician and do a lot of faxing and data entry. The company is very nice so far. If all goes this well in the future, I wouldn't mind staying there. It's a part-time job, M,T,W, and off Th and Fri.

So today I have, not the flu, but my remaining head cold. I'm tired, stuffy, but glad I don't have the flu anymore.

Fortunately, I don't have to work on the anniversary of Mom's death, so I can set up a therapist appt. and we can do a ritual of some sort there. I know I can't run from that day forever, stop time on that day and hold it in pause.... but for right now, the grief and PTSD is so strong, even three years later, that I must not be expected to be my normal warrior self on that day.

So on this rainy, blustery day, I invite you to get under the covers with your love (be that animal or person) and read some good books.

I just got a book I had lost - "Skyspeak" by Jan Heller Levi - and am enjoying it greatly. It's a poetry book that had a lot of affect on "Motherlung."

Till next time,

fin.

Vow to Betterment

I have been slipping as of late... for a myriad of reasons... I have disliked, even hated, who I am... which is not a nice way to feel...nor is it nice toward mys-elf.
So... I am writing out a list of vows.

~ I vow to not be on the computer so much when Atrus is here.

~ I vow to become like a child and play with him more.

~ I vow to do my BEST to not put mys-elf down

~ I vow to do more things for my husband to show him how much I love him. Even little things. While in the grocery store, he often puts his hand on my shoulder and rubs it. I find this so comforting and such a little gesture just lights me up. I vow to do little things like that, too.

~ I vow to let go of my past, which I have not done as is evident in my dreamtime. I dream of old people, old places, old circumstances...and often it's a nightmare. I vow to look at my present: my husband, my home, my kids, my cat, my writing, my job hunting, my hope, my peace, my optimism.

~ I vow to read more, to write more, to go outside more and take walks.

~ I vow to not turn into sludge during the Autumn months due to Mother-grief... I will not be paralyzed for three to four months out of the year like I have been these past 3 years. I will look into doing Autumn-y things like apple picking, hay rides, and other fun stuff to do with my new family. I will replace bad memories with good memories.

What do you think? What would you like to make as vows to yours-elf?




Namaste,

fin.

The Very Definition of Bittersweet

Youtube link to the Ingrid Michaelson song, "Keep Breathing" - listen to that while reading this entry, if you like.

Yesterday I found out some outrageously good news: "Motherlung," my poetry book about my mother's fight with and end from Lung Cancer is going to be published by Salmon Publishing in 2012.

They are so busy... and we need to make some edits on the manuscript to make it stronger -- that is why the date is so far ahead. But I waited 2 years for "We Nod Our Dark Heads"; I can wait two and a half years for "Motherlung."

I love Salmon Publishing and am lucky enough to know and care about the three people who run it: Jessie, Siobhan, and Tim. They do outstanding work and I know they will take good care of my book. I call "Motherlung" my biggest pride, my biggest heart-sore.

I chose "Keep Breathing" as the song to listen to while writing and reading this post because I had a bittersweet reaction to the news yesterday. At first, I was crying with joy and calling everyone I knew, posting it on facebook and receiving such warm and loving responses....

then it hit me. I couldn't tell Mom. I couldn't call her up on the phone and tell her my greatest news.

Lee and the girls were out; I was home making a spaghetti dinner with Atrus. Suddenly, I was overcome with grief. I sobbed and felt like a little girl. I wanted my Mommy.

Besides that, it's Autumn: the season in which she died. Her health fell with the Fall leaves. Autumn haunts me. November is always hard.

Poor Atrus was concerned and confused. I told him my mommy died but it was ok because she loved me and was an angel in heaven. I told him I wasn't mad at him and he needn't be scared. He was very comforting.

Lee and the girls came home and I just wanted to be alone with my grief. My dad called and I went upstairs and cried to him on the phone. All night, I was a bit quiet... I heard a voice in my head whisper, "Go to your family..."

so I went over to Lee on the couch where he was playing a video game and leaned my head on his shoulder. It felt like home. Aislyn came over to show us her homework and I felt... at peace. This was my family.

As I lay in bed that night, I realized...

It's not going away...

The death, that is. Isn't that a strange thought? That through time, the death would "go away" and Mom would come back. I didn't even know it was an underlying thought I had until last night. It's still happening, I thought. This grief. I still can't talk to her; I still can't call her on the phone, tell her I love her. Have her tell me she loves me.

Instead, I get these wicked nightmares where she is evil and I must run from her.

It feels wrong not to be able to tell Mom that I'm getting my first book published.

A poem from "Motherlung:"

Attic Illness

It went from the living room
to the attic,
so you walked with your right foot
dragging.

I saw cars pass with families eating
newly-picked apples.
I saw a baby born in a bathtub,
its eyes rolling into its head for the first time.

It went from the living room
to the attic,
this beast,
and in my pajamas, with my sword and flashlight,
I have climbed the steps
to fight it.
******************************

fin.

The Step-Mother's Secret

The Stepmother's Secret

I did not give birth to my son.

I did not give birth to my daughters.

They do not have my hair,

nor my eyes.

My DNA does not slosh through them.

My nipples have not been suckled;

my skin remains unstretched.

I watch these children, marvel

at these children and, in wonder,

ask in my mind,

“Do you know that you are mine?

That I am the one you can run to -

from scratches, heartaches, in joy?

You are the only dreams I have left,

dreams that lull me

to sleep like a midnight song

and you who do not call me

Mother

are still my children

even if nobody knows,

even if only I whisper,

I love you.”

*********************************************

copyright LMB 2009

I'm pregnant with stories of my stepchildren. Gabrielle looked at me while sitting on my lap and said hesitantly, "Lisa...Mom...Lisa...Mom?" as if to ask which she should call me. I didn't pick up on the cue and I looked at Lee with my eyebrow raised, wondering what to do and where this came from. I know their mother would be livid and hurt if even one child called me "Mom," yet I yearn for that to happen. But I understand if it's not to be. It felt so good, though.... knowing how much they love me, knowing how much I love them... Gabrielle - who used to be the most difficult child, so angry and full of tantrums, some violent, - now she's always in my lap and wanting to sit next to me and play "school" with me. It's so touching.

Sometimes the way children think and reason is so precious. Take a look at the conversation that happened last night:

Gabrielle (5 yrs old): There is no Married Day?

Me: No, we just decided to pick a day and get married because we loved each other and wanted us all to become a family.

Gabrielle: Well, then ALL of us should have come together and kissed at the wedding.

************************************

Aislyn, 11 years old now, was the one I thought I'd have the hardest time getting close to. There's no fooling an 11 year old. They can see right through you. Not that I was trying to fool anybody, but if you aren't genuine, they see that. But I remained authentic, loving, and, surprisingly, she was the first to warm up to me and say she loved me and that I was THE nicest person in the world and the best step-mom. I just glowed. I find I'm being the good female role model she needs, explaining things like hygiene to her as she grows into puberty. American Girls has some wonderful books about growing up and answering all the hard questions.

And then there's my growing boy, Atrus, who turns 3 next month. I love him so much; he's such an easy little guy to love. I knew him before the girls, so he and I have a longer bond. We've come a long way. He loves to cuddle and play.

And so the secret of step-motherhood has not elluded me. I think it is to love like you'd never loved before. Think of these kids as my own, which I do.

One day they'll read my letters to them, my poetry about them... and I hope they know how easy it was to become their step-mother, how easy it is to think of myself as their parent. How easy it is to love them. How they are my prayer. The prayer I prayed every night.

fin.

Auter Extravaganza

What's an Auter, you ask? It's my new surname. Or Mrs. name. Why do they call them "surnames?" It sounds like "sir name." I want a "mrs. name."

ANYWAY, I uploaded some pictures to the shutterfly site and I found that you could make your own free website for various occasions. I immediately set to work on making an Auter Family website. Great pictures, great journal entries on the kids. I'm so excited!

Go to:

http://theauterfamily.shutterfly.com

It will be updated often so return and visit! Leave comments!

Love your family, however big or small, blood-related or just full of loving friends!

fin.

From the Land of 90 Milligrams

Greetings. I come to you 30 milligrams less on Cymbalta than before. I greet you with fragile emotions and a lot of anger in the past week and a strong heartbeat. I'm making it. With the help of Lee, most of all.

My, my, I certainly turned into an obstinate 2 year old last night. I was talking or mumbling to Lee on the couch and he said, let's go for a walk. And I whined, "no, I feel dead." And I cried and cried. Lee gently reminded me that *I* had told him to gently remind me why I was doing this. Going down on the Cymbalta. Less nightmares, more control over my life... to see what lay beneath the layers of medication.

So we went for a walk and I was only half-conscious. But the leaves crunched under my feet and I saw the pretty houses and when we came back to the house, I felt a little bit better.

This past week has been full of children, throwing my back out, migraines, not enough alone time with my new husband, less medication than I'm used to, fragile emotions, mom-missings, and more I can't remember right now.

This week promises to be better. Tomorrow I go to my former place of work, what used to be Harbor House but is now Oak Park Place, and take part in the Alzheimer Poetry Project. Lee is going to come with to watch me and I'm so excited for him to see what I do. I visited Oak Park Place last week and helped out with a birthday party and met a kindred soul, Donna - a regal, gentle woman who was dressed so beautifully and was so "with it" I had to wonder why she was there. We discovered that we both wrote poetry and she used to be a teacher at Beloit College. She wants a copy of "We Nod Our Dark Heads" and insists on paying for it. I asked if she had ever read "Anne of Green Gables" and she said no. Well, she was a kindred spirit, I said. She laughed and said I was one, too. I think I may re-visit Oak Park Place if only to spend time with Donna.

In sad news, the church job I wanted wasn't given to me. The pastor said he would have loved to work with me, but they went with someone else. I was sorely disappointed, of course, and now I wonder what I can possibly do. I constantly apply for jobs. Will I find the right one? I thought I'd get that one and I didn't. I had the best interview ever and it still didn't get me the job. I'm overwhelmed at how many people I compete against for these jobs. And I'm sure they feel the same way.

I'd like to send special hugs to my friend, Mary, who lost two important souls this past week. Mary is a burning optimist, but even that can test anyone's faith in life. She'll be okay, but I want to send her my love. Come up here to Mad-town soon, Mary, and I will shower you with hugs and tea!

What you'd see if you'd peer in our window right now:

~ Lee on his computer with headphones on doing a 3D tutorial. I can hear his breathing which is so comforting to me.

~ Me on the laptop on the couch, covered by a shawl given to me by a dear friend who got it in India. I'm sniffling every couple of minutes because I might be catching a cold.

~ Callie sitting beside me. Her head pointed down, but not quite lying down.

~ An empty tea cup on the table.

~ My fingers tap-tapping the keys on the laptop.

I think I may take a look at one of my manuscripts and edit it. Make it stronger.

I'm in the business of becoming stronger.

So long, from the Land of 90 milligrams,

fin.

The Medication Tango

Listen to this beautiful music by the Rachel's as you read this entry. I love this CD, "Music for Egon Shiele." It calms me. I used to play it when I worked at Stern's Bookstore in Chicago. It was an extremely tiny, psychology bookstore. I remember morning sun through the windows, tidying up while this CD was playing. So it is comforting memories. And so, as I write about a difficult topic, listen to my comforting music and join me in telling myself: it will all be okay.

I first started Prozac when I was sixteen years old. It didn't work. I had a dummy psychiatrist. I left that one because of his pure rudeness and found another half-competent psychiatrist who put me on all sorts of anti-depressants. And so became the waves, the dances, the windstorms. Sometimes I'd be on one for two days, having found it didn't work and had horrible side effects.... sometimes they'd find one that "worked" - like Wellbutrin and I'd be on it for years.

But what really "worked?" Was I given a chance, at sixteen, to use my own strength and determination to win out over my life-long, crippling depression? Did we give in too easily? Or was it just too hard and it was clear I had a chemical deficiency?

I don't know.

Because fifteen years later, I'm still on anti-depressants (some anti-psychotics from the days in my early twenties when I was in the hospitals) and I have no idea who *I* am anymore.

I'm stable. I mean, I have low days; I miss my mom almost daily and have a meltdown at least once a week. But in terms of depression, Cymbalta seems to be the one that helps the most. I finally came upon that one in 2006, just as Mom was getting sicker. Cymbalta turned my life around. I thought I had finally found "It." I felt a huge relief in one day.

I thought I had found the magic cure.

Now I know that the cure for those with true, chemical deficiencies is a combination of therapy, exercise, medication, sunlight and love. I don't have so much of the exercise or the sunlight....but am working on it.

Lately, Lee has pointed out side effects he's noticed since we moved into our home.
For one, I have chronic, VIVID nightmares. The nightmares may be from my own subconscious, but the VIVIDNESS is from Cymbalta. This is one of its side effects. At first, I just thought I could live with the nightly nightmares, but then I realized it was ruining my days as well. I was reliving my mother's death every night, having horrible dreams where the grief was exposed as if it was Nov. 6, 2006 (the day she died).

I also have more personal side effects from Cymbalta and Invega which I won't go on about here, but you can make your own guesses. It's unbearable. Not fair.

My two best friends, Lee and Lauren, have slightly differing opinions. Lee thinks I can make it off medication, slowly, bit by bit, and succeed. Lauren thinks I honestly have a chemical imbalance and need my medication - maybe not as much as I take, but some.

I'm just all-over confused. I don't know what I'm like NOT on medication, for I've been on them since I was sixteen years old. Will I have the strength to fight the fevers of withdrawal? Will I have a clear mind to tell myself I'm NOT dying and don't need to panic? Will I be able to take care of the kids and go to a new job successfully? Who will I be?

Starting in 2001, when I moved to Madison, I found the BEST psychiatrist ever. He "got me" and was also versed in eastern practices like focusing on the body's relaxation and breathing. He made all the difference in the world, although he assigned many different meds to me which resulted in years of instability. He found out I was mixed-bipolar and so we tried the big guns: Lithium, Depakote, etc... and Lithium helped for a bit, but finally fizzled out. When he recommended Cymbalta and it worked, I felt so happy.

He has since moved on to another practice where I can't afford to go and I'm seeing his replacement today, at 2:00, to say: "I want to begin to go off one of my medications."

I've said such things before and have tried to lower dosages only to have meltdowns that were so bad that I had to go back on the meds.

I'm now willing to face those demons and hard times and work through them. And yet I am so scared.

But I can do it, right? I'm stronger now. I have all the support I need in my friends and husband.

I'll keep you updated.

fin.

Within and Without

Why do we unintentionally hurt the ones we love? Do we take advantage of their staying power and loyalty? Do I?

I thought I was a smart person regarding love and relationships. I got out of the ones that weren't working for me or the other person ended the relationship for the betterment of both of us.

But I fully admit that I have been taken advantage of the very man who loves me the most. The man who represents the very best of mankind. Why do GOOD men have to suffer such pain in their lives just for being good?

I am not as innocent as I thought I was. I am not as kind as I thought. I do not make good decisions at times.

And I feel ashamed. I feel embarrassed. I am disappointed in myself.

Ironically, a lot of self-forgiveness has to happen within me. I ask, why? Shouldn't he have to forgive me? Learn to trust me? Again? Yes...

but I am so angry at myself, sometimes I just want to claw my skin off or become as small as a baby turtle and hide inside my shell.

But no, I must take responsibility and learn from my mistakes. What happens, though, when you make the same mistakes?

I have a responsibility to this family. To Lee, to the children, to myself.

I must learn that I have everything I need WITHIN and do not need to look WITHOUT for anything.

I am full of love within, full of passion and compassion within, I am full of confidence within (somewhere in there). When I act from my tools within, I don't need to look for anything without. I don't need anyone's approval but my own.

And that is what I have to work on. I don't need anyone else's "YES you are special."
*I* know I'm special enough.

So those are my hurdles and things to remember. Maybe for all of us to remember.

Go within,

fin.

The Reality of Nightmares

Maybe I shouldn't even be down here at 6am, writing this out. Maybe I should have stayed upstairs with a cold washcloth over my eyes and tried to fall back asleep. But I was sure, there was no easy sleep after this nightmare.

Background: I take a high dose of the antidepressant, Cymbalta, and that tends to give one extremely vivid dreams.

This morning I dreamt - again - of my mother dying. I was in high school in the dream, in a class I wasn't paying attention in. Joel, an old high school close friend, was there in the class. I looked at him and he smiled. I frowned. I didn't understand the math in the class and suddenly I broke apart:

Your mother doesn't have lung cancer! Well, it's more than lung cancer. She's bleeding out of her eyes and mouth! (in reality, she had lung cancer and her death was caused by a blood clot burst).

I shouted. People rushed to me, including, Joel (and someone named Caroline whom I don't know) and asked if I was okay. I told Joel to call me later.

I went out into the hallway after class and saw my father and step-mother standing there. I knew what had happened. My father told me that she had fallen and died. I cried, shouted out in despair. I ran out into traffic, with them following me. I woke up crying, sobbing, with Lee telling me to wake up; it's only a dream.

I couldn't stop crying. I was feeling Mom's death all over again. Nearly 3 years later. And it felt so real. I didn't feel I was in the present; I knew I needed to walk around and re-familiarize with my surroundings. My step-children, my husband, my cat, my house.

Later this month I'm going to go start going down on one of my meds. I think Cymbalta may be it. But my recurring mother dreams don't all stem from the drug, it's from my pained and traumatized subconscious. So do I have more dreams like this to look forward to? Perhaps.

Mom, I want you back.

fin.

Rejection, Projection, Protection

Another opinion and this I feel confident about sharing because it comes up in my own life.

For the life of a writer, artist, or anyone who puts their creativity "out there" -- REJECTION.

Isn't that an awful word? I reject you. Your work is rejected. Thanks, but no thanks.

Let me tell you, my writing has been rejected - a lot! I've been submitting poetry to magazines and journals since I was twelve years old. I first entered a contest "Seventeen" Magazine was sponsoring and I kept submitting to them, love poem after gooney love poem, and each time: rejection.

I didn't give up hope, though, and, honestly, I don't know why. Something in me just said keep going. And so I did. Each time I got a rejection in the mail, I'd put together a new submission and mail it out within a few days (how I wish my turnaround time was that good now). I wanted to always have something out there in publishers' hands. And I have kept that promise all these years.

The first time rejection really hurt was last year when I didn't get accepted to the Wisconsin Institute of Creative Writing. For the first time, I thought those evil, vulture thoughts:

am I good enough?
Does my work just suck?

I've been lucky, though. I've had parents and teachers in early school and high school and even college support me and my writing and people who reminded me that I am a good writer, deserving of any dream I want, any goal I make. Most people don't have that. And so while some people hide under the covers and ponder their self-worth when they get rejected, I feel a little twinge, but move on quickly. My work isn't good all the time, but it is some of the time and it's that "some" that I have to focus on and get out there to publishers.

So in conclusion, my opinion is thus:

A rejection letter should not define who you are. Perhaps it could give you pause and make you think, "am I being the most authentic person/artist/writer I can be?"

but it does not say you are a failure. Do not project that onto yourself.

Instead, protect yourself from fiendish thoughts and realize that editors have good and bad days, they have fights with their significant others before work, they have PMS and pissy moods... it's all about catching them in a good place with your best work.

My 2 cents. And I shared it! :)

fin.

Opinion Manifesto

When I was a little girl, I had opinions. I told them to my father and he said I was wrong. He put me down, criticized me, made me afraid to speak my truth. Henceforth, I just learned to shut up and stay quiet.

So I am the one with no opinion, the quiet one who agrees with the masses.

And I don't like it.

Last night, I was talking with Lee about what topics I should write about in my blog. I realized that I didn't want to write about anything that wasn't my life because that would mean I would write an opinion and I was terrified of that.

But what am I terrified of? Someone disagreeing with me? Maybe. Someone criticizing me? Possibly. But I've got to be stronger than that, right?

Don't you just despise those friends who never suggest a place to go when you say, "what do you want to do? Where do you want to go?"

What do you want to do?
I dunno.

I've been both voices before.

So I'm going to divulge my opinions in small doses.

First: I don't think mothers should have leashes for their young children. They should learn to hold their hands.

There. That's a random opinion. Phew.

Expect more to come.

fin.

I Love My Children

I feel like a real mother. I drove the girls to their third day of school today. Aislyn is in 5th grade and Gabrielle is in kindergarten now. It's amazing to watch Gabrielle transition into being a full-time student and she is loving it. Aislyn is a little leary of school, but she says she loves her teacher, which is so important. I'm so glad they're going to this school because this school CARES.

So Atrus and I dropped them off, drove to McD's and got some O.J. for the 'lil one and some iced coffee for me (I'm not used to being up at 7am anymore). Atrus is being such a jewel. I feel my heart growing and expanding with my love for these kids.

There was a slight chance that we might not see them except for once a month, but now that has cleared up and we are going to see them every other week which I am SO happy about.

Because no matter if I gave birth to them or not, these are my kids. These are all the kids I'm going to have and I'm going to love them as much as if they were my own.

I'm going to treasure Atrus calling me "Seesa" (he can't say l's yet)... treasure Aislyn opening her birthday present today (two dreamcatchers I bought her from Katy's Native American store on Monroe St.), Gabrielle wanting a kiss and a hug before bed.

Last night, the girls called out, "I love you," before I could get the words out and that's the FIRST time they said it FIRST. I walked into our bedroom with a smile on my face and Lee knew something good had happened.

I can't wait to watch these kids grow up and become whatever they are going to become. Part of me wishes Atrus could stay my little 2 1/2 year old forever... there's something so sweet and innocent about his youth... but I can't wait until he starts school, either.

I'm so lucky. I've written some poems about motherhood that perhaps I'll include here later. I'm hoping to write some more and make a chapbook out of them. We'll see.

For now, I'm going to play with my boy.

always, with love,

fin.

To Little Lisa or anyone looking for their Soul Mate

Dear Little Lisa,
Remember how you felt for Gerald Coppage in the 1st grade? He had big brown eyes and chocolaty skin. You were head over heels for him. Followed him wherever he went. Yearned to be noticed by him. Then you transferred schools and were heartbroken.

At Pennoyer, you fell for Nicky Colucci, then ultimately, for Joseph Monroe who gave you the Valentines Day box of candy that stole your heart altogether.

You were always on a quest for love. In high school, there was John Kaldis, and then the ever-intense Joel Ortiz. You fell into a sort of daze with Joel. You let yourself become a bit haunted by him. You experienced wonderful times with him, as well as heartache. You were SURE he was the one. Kindred spirits like that just don't come along every day. You thought you'd be together forever.

But we all know that the word "forever" doesn't belong in high school. Not unless you're very lucky. And so you and Joel went your separate ways.

College was a blur of depression, hibernation, and doldrums. Still, there was Enoch, the fabulous musical theatre major.

There was always someone, wasn't there, Little Lisa.

Well, now... having found my Soul Mate... I wish to say some things to you and to YOU, dear reader.

It's true: it happens at the most least expected moments. While compulsively online-dating, I went through an assortment of wonderful (and some not so wonderful) guys all thinking each was "the one" at the time. I was naive. I was starry-eyed at the thought of someone caring about me, even if it wasn't love.

I went through some serious relationships: Alex, Stephen, Jake... break-ups marred my heart, no matter if I broke up with them or if they broke up with me. I thought I'd give up after Jake. My heart was in tatters and I thought he was the one I was to marry. But we both talked and ultimately decided it wasn't meant to be. I swore to myself I would protect my heart better than I had been.

But still... my search for my true love wouldn't leave me alone. On February 4th, 2008, I was bored at home and thought I'd read the craigslist personals, fully realizing most of them are bogus and just guys looking to get laid. I didn't intend on finding anything. In fact, there was a part of me that told myself: why bother? You're just going to get hurt again.

But I'm a born romantic. I get up time after time and believe THIS one will be better, no matter how much I hurt.

I found two craigslist postings that night. I wrote to both of them. And I thank God now that the other person never wrote back. The one who wrote back was named Lee and he seemed genuine and caring and I was eager to meet him.

I didn't know when we met at Dennys soon after that this would be my husband. I always thought I'd know right away. That there was a secret, magic knowing I'd have as soon as I'd see "his" eyes. Now some people recognize their partner right away. That's just not the way I work. I tend to think "so-and-so" is THE ONE each and every time. But I went to Dennys with no expectation, just excitement at meeting someone new, no matter how it turned out.

We talked over Vanilla Coke and a Sprite for four hours. I felt very comfortable with him. We shyly held hands toward the end and gave each other a long, soulful hug goodbye in the cold snow outside that meant, "I WILL see you soon."

And we did meet again. And again and again. It happened like that.

I didn't know Lee would be my husband until many months into the relationship, until we had moved in together and we were lying in bed, he sleeping and me lying next to him, whispering, "I want to marry you," hoping he hadn't heard, but he sleepily said, "did you say something?" and I gasped and said, "no, no, go back to sleep."

But still, the word "marriage" was a fantasy to me. I couldn't imagine the practicalities, the realities of it. It was still a fantasy.

Now we are married and I feel much like I did before, only more whole. Like "he has my back." Like I have a bookend on the other end of the shelf. I'm one bookend, he's the other. And in between we hold books on love, relationships, how to get through tough times, books on kids and stepkids, and how to parent... books on how to spiritually and creatively connect...

At age 31 and married, I don't feel naive anymore. I don't feel that rush to meet people who like me. I found the one I need those feelings from.

I guess what I want to say is... you don't have to look hard. The Universe always had Lee in mind for me. Before we met, we were going through such trials, such difficult times. Soul-testing times that would ultimately teach us how to be better people, thus preparing us for each other.

Each love, each relationship teaches you something, whether it's through smiles or tears. No one is a waste. No one is a mistake. I'm made of layers of past relationships that all helped shape me to be the best wife I can be.

So Little Lisa, you needn't worried so much. You were always on your way to Lee.

And you, seeker of the heart, you needn't worry so much either. Everything is molding you, teaching you, leading you to your ultimate love.

And above all, remember: one must first love themselves before they can allow another to love them.

I wish you love in all areas of your life. Jubilation and celebration.

fin.

I Come to You as Mrs. Lisa Auter....

...and there is no one else I'd rather be.

We had our wedding this past Saturday, the 29th of August. We did most of the initial work ourselves. We didn't have parents helping us out... we did a potluck where everyone brought food... and our wedding cake was not a three tiered poofy extravaganza; it was an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen. We skimped and saved the best we could. If there was a theme for our wedding, it was: casual. Relaxed.

Boy were we surprised when, come rehearsal night - the night before the wedding - and we walked into my step-father's house and saw a beautiful white arbor decorated with flowers and garlands standing in John's Great Room facing the huge windows which overlooked my mother's gardens. Denyse, our wedding angel and flower benefactor (she and her hubby cop friends of Mom and John) went all out and decorated to the high heavens. I hear my cousins had a hand in it as well. I was speechless. Wow. I'd actually get an arbor? The kids loved it. Gabrielle and Atrus kept walking under it.

The rehearsal went well, despite my father and maid of honor not being there. I'm so glad the kids - Aislyn, Gabrielle, and even little Atrus were excited about the wedding. We went home and went right to bed to get good sleep.

The next morning, I was on cloud nine. Not feeling too nervous or stressed. I knew things would work out. The only thing I was stressed about was the weather. It was forecasted to be cloudy with a chance of rain. More on that later.

So we arrive at John's house. My aunt and uncle and cousins are already there. John had bought tons of that "veil" material and hung it up on his huge front porch. It billowed in the wind - beautiful! I was taken aback. The place looked gorgeous. Lauren, my maid of honor, was there as well.

I went upstairs with the girls to Denyse who was waiting in the bathroom to do our hair and make-up. She put curlers in my hair and in Aislyn's hair. With Gabrielle, she put these snake-like twistie ties in her hair and she looked like Medusa!

Atrus found the toys the grandkids use and found pirate-wear. He and Gabrielle put on eyepatches and pirate hats. Great pictures were taken of that! So funny!

So time passed... Denyse who can be a bit intense... was my keeper... meaning she kept all the stress away from me. As did Lauren. The guys couldn't get our mix CD to play and I panicked but they worked it out and I felt oodles better.

So then it was time to get ready to walk down the aisle. I looked in the mirror one last time. I looked beautiful. A light sea-green eyeshadow over my lids, blush, raisin-colored lipstick. My grandmother's and mother's diamond necklace, passed down to me. My mother's turquoise earrings. I looked at myself and got teary-eyed for a moment. I could feel Mom around me.

We walked down the staircase to the song, "The Promise" by The Secret Garden. First Aislyn, looking far beyond her 11 years, went down throwing turquoise and white flower petals... then Lauren walked down... then I walked down. I caught sight of my father waiting for me at the end of the stairs. He had a silly grin and tears in his eyes. All our problems and fights disappeared and love shown in our eyes. I joined his arm and we walked toward the groom and arbor.

Just then, THE SUN CAME OUT and lit up the room. Dad handed me off to Lee and Lee mouthed, "wow!"

We both faced Reverend Don and I just noticed the sun shining on the both of us. I KNEW it was Mom that had done that. We said our vows... Lee was shaking a little bit, but I felt calm and natural, thank goodness. We exchanged rings, lit the Unity Candle...we kissed tenderly and before I knew it, Reverend Don had us face the audience of 20 or so of our closest family... and introduced us as Mr. and Mrs. Auter. We walked the processional outside the door and then took pictures with every possible familial and friend combination. It was chilly and breezy, but the sun stayed out. I was amazed.

After pictures, we went inside and started our mix CD. As we walked outside, U2's "Beautiful Day" played, which I loved.

We all started eating the bounty of food that had arrived from each guest. Far too much food! haha. "Mr. Jones" came on and Lauren and I danced to that, for that was one of our songs. I barely ate, but that's ok.

"Babe" by Styx came on and I dragged my Dad out on the dance floor (living room rug) and we had a great dance together. I told him I remembered the last time I had danced with him - at his work banquet 10 years ago and I was so proud of him. He said he was so proud of me today. I whispered to him a few choreographed moves to end the song with and we executed them perfectly. He twirled me around, got down on one knee, and I sat on his knee and arched back. Perfect choreography! :)

Then came the dance with my step-father. Oh my goodness, was that intense. We danced to Bette Midler's "The Rose." He's a big guy and he clutched me close to him so that I could barely breathe. He whispered that this was one of Mom's favorite songs. He started saying the words in my ear and I began to cry. We missed Mom so much. I knew he was having a hard time at the wedding. He stayed in the background for the most of it. He missed Mom, too. I started crying in his arms and said, "Be strong! Be strong!" just as he had said the morning he had told me Mom died....

I just cried in his arms and he whipped me around the dance floor like a rag doll. Once the song was over, he disappeared and I wiped my eyes only to see Lauren standing far away, whipping her own tears away. I went to her and we both hugged and cried, missing my Mom. But we took a deep breath and went on.

Gabrielle wanted to dance with me (as 5 year olds don't have that filter of self-conscious yet like 11 year olds do) and we twirled in circles. She got me dizzy very fast. Atrus joined in and soon the three of us were going in circles. I had to stop a few times or else I would have slipped in my shoes. It was so fun, though. Gabrielle was very attached to me during the reception. She followed me around the whole time. Aislyn stayed back a little, sad to finally see that her old family was definitely gone. But she was a good sport about it.

The best man, Brian, and his wife Vanessa, volunteered to take the kids, Lee's Mom, and the food back to our house so Lee and I could go directly to the B&B for our honeymoon. Oh, we agreed in a second and was entirely grateful for them!

The bed and breakfast, The Parsonage, was a 125+ year old house next to a church and our room was small but cozy.

In the morning, we sat around the table with three other pairs of guests and talked. It was wonderful. Ah, but we had to leave soon to get back to the kids and drive Sandy home.

And so we re-entered the real world.

And so goes my wedding. Our wedding. Lee and I are still getting used to having these rings on our fingers.

Now comes the REAL work - the marriage.

I want to thank everyone for their well wishes and emails these weeks. I couldn't have asked for a better wedding. It was full of love and family.

love,
Mrs. Lisa Auter.

fin.

My Review of Four Season's Theatre: "Evita"

I'm not a theatre reviewer, but I have seen "Evita" twice on stage and have been singing the soundtrack into my mirror since I was thirteen. :)

Last night, I took my beloved to his first professional, Broadway musical, "Evita" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. You know Andrew - "Jesus Christ Superstar," "Phantom of the Opera."

Anyway, they cast "Eva" long before auditions opened and I thought, wow, this Amanda Paulson must be some kind of star. She got her Voice and Performance degree from UW-Madison years ago and she's been in "Miss Saigon," among others. AND the lead singer on a cruise ship.

Anyway, the opening was very interesting. It starts out in a cinema in Buenos Aires and what the director decided to do was (before the actual performance started) show an actual Eva Duarte movie (for she started out as an actress) on a screen on stage. Suddenly, the lights go dark and the movie goes blank. First in Spanish, then in English it says Eva Duarte de Peron has entered immortality. Then those chilling brass notes are played. Oh, I got goosebumps and patted Lee's knee frantically.

Overall, Amanda Paulson was good as Eva. She is an extraordinary actress, to be sure. I just thought the voice of Eva needed to be a bit more rich. Her voice is more suited for "Ellen" from "Miss Saigon" (which she, indeed played - see her on youtube). At times she got a bit screechy, but there were also some lovely vocal moments.

My disappointment existed with Peron and Che. Both sported odd hairpieces and no one had a hint of a Spanish accent, which bothered both Lee and myself. Che did not exhibit the anger needed to balance the sarcasm and Peron, himself an off-Broadway actor, missed some cues and flubbed up at times. He also seemed very young and not as "commanding" as a dictator should be. Che had been in numerous commercials and I was surprised because he didn't have much stage presence. I find that hard to write because I don't ever want anyone in the cast to read this (haha) because I am not a professional theatre reviewer, just a fan.

And I certainly was a fan of this production. Always looking at how the ensemble performs, I was looking at this one very closely. And I tell you, they were nearly flawless. I was proud to see Dennis Reichhold who played "Toad" in the production of "The Wind in the Willows" I was in - he was part of the ensemble. They were sharp, the dancing impeccable. The ensemble was my favorite part. But then again, I have a thing for ensembles.

A lovely surprise was the junior in high school, Samantha Mae Bock, who played the "Mistress" who sings "Another Suitcase in Another Hall." She was sweet and naive and a wonderful singer. I enjoyed her immensely and was very envious that she was where she was at as a junior in high school!

So yes, the theatre bug has gotten me. I'm auditioning for Four Season's "Fiddler on the Roof" next year. After seeing "Evita" I realize I might not make it in because they have high standards and great talent. I desperately want to be in the "Fiddler" ensemble, but we'll see.

Bravo to "Evita," overall. I'm so glad I got to see it again.

To view highlights from dress rehearsal, go here

fin.

Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?

A dear friend of mine is going through the worst time of his life. For years, he's been battling one thing or another - all seeming like bits of the world are against him. He is a wonderful soul, a truly GOOD man and I don't see him deserving ANY of this.

So why must it happen? And must it happen at all?

I think back to my entry on Abraham-Hicks and the Law of Attraction. Follow your bliss. Your emotions will guide you. Align your emotions with the highest thought and you will achieve whatever you desire.

Well, I want to scream at Abraham (as I'm sure a lot of Abraham-Hicks "learners" do from time to time) and say REALLY????? Cuz my wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/friend/partner/ME is surely not feeling the fruits of my labor. How much laboring do I have to go through, one might ask.

With all my beliefs about positive attitudes changing everything, I looked this man in the eye and said, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say."

He had the positive attitude. He had the get-up-and-tackle-the-world attitude. He was finally going to win. I thought for sure he was going to win this one. And Life just kicked him in the gut one more time.

What does this mean? How do I reconcile this with my beliefs? I believe good things happen to good people. I believe things happen for a reason. I don't think our life is mapped out grid by grid, year by year, but I do believe that certain things are pre-ordained.

So what about this man's problems? What soul contract could he have possibly signed (going off Caroline Myss's concept of "Soul Contracts") before coming into this world? Why such suffering? Why such misery?

Harold Kushner wrote a book that may help my friend as well as myself: When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Go to amazon.com or click that link and read the forward to the book. This is a book I ought to read, perhaps my friend ought to read as well. I wish I could read the book online - NOW - at 5:50am while my desperate mind searches for answers to these questions.

For now, I must still believe in positive attitudes. But my crest has fallen as of yesterday. I know of so many GOOD people who have just suffered their whole lives. I was once one of them - now I choose to look at it another way.

I carry my suffering like girl scout badges on my vest. I say, see what I've been through? See what horrible suffering I endured as a child? A teen? See what grief did to me when I was 28? But the fact is, I learned from each thing. It taught me about compassion and loving myself and others. It taught me to get out of my own head (after a long while) and appreciate what I had in my life.

Maybe my friend can appreciate what he has in his life...one day. But yesterday, everything was just raw, the pain so fresh. He looked up to God and wanted to give up.

I hope he doesn't give up. He has so much love and life to give to others.

So I haven't really answered my questions, have I? Or maybe I have. Why do bad things happen to good people? To teach them? What kind of teacher would make that happen? I don't know. I'm no theologist or philosopher; I'm just a writer and a blogger.

What do you think?

fin.

New Perspective

What would life be like if you looked at the world like this?

fin.

Pump Up the Mood

Everything changed when I read "Ask and It Is Given" by Esther and Jerry Hicks - with the help of Abraham... an entity that you must stretch your imagination for. Tee hee hee.

You see, Abraham is a spiritual entity that Esther Hicks channels. I'm sure there are people that can explain this phenomenon far better than I, but whether you believe in channeling or not... whether you believe it is actually Esther channeling her own deep knowledge or not... you MUST listen to the wisdom, the words.

My dear Lee has an open mind, thank goodness, but does not jive with this non-corporeal form of channeling bit. Which is fine because he is reading the book and loving the message and it is changing his - and our - life.

The message? Have a positive attitude... align yourself with your most highest vibrations and send them out there to the Universe - ask and it is given. Ask for what you want and it is given to you. With some caveats. But you'll have to read the book to find out what they are.

But as I said, after my mom died, this book became my bible. I realized I needn't spend eternity in depression that *I* had CONTROL over my emotions - good or not so good - and I could control the outcome of my day. It had a profound effect on me - who thought I was doomed to live in a depressive void the rest of my life.

But no. I had a choice.

Today is a big day for Lee and myself. Lee woke up feeling yucky and he remembered the book and said, "you know what? I'm not going to let you control me, you bad funky mood. I'm going to set my sights on a good day and nothing is going to stop me."

I'm loving it! I could use a dose of positive attitude today as well. Yesterday, I was all doom and gloom and thinking I was in a rut. But as long as you FOCUS on the negative, you are aligning yourself up with that negative attitude. You start attracting negative things.

So now, as I listen to my neighbor's wind chimes as though they were a sign to go take a walk, look up to the heavens with gratitude and joy... I will control my mood. I will feel good and heaven forbid anything that gets in the way of that.

I'll do my super judo karate kicks on them! :)

What I suggest you do is check out the link under "Esther and Jerry Hicks" that I've provided in the beginning... putz around on their website, learn a few things. See if it jives with you.

Also, I want you to know that you don't have to "jive" with the Abraham-Hicks theory and thought and that's the ONLY way you can feel better.

There are lots of ways to feel better. Be more active (I'm one to talk!)... keep a gratitude journal. Do something good for others, like I did a few days ago when I wrote that note to the crying girl in the cafe. Random acts of kindness go a long way towards lifting up your spirits and also helping someone else.

Simply look around you and be grateful for what you have. Sure, there are bills to pay, debt to consider, sleepless nights for new mothers and fathers (Megan, I'm thinking of you here)...but look at the flip side. Look at the beautiful face of your baby and love and gratitude will shine over you - even at 2am. Ok, I'm not a new mom, merely a stepmom, but I KNOW those overwhelming feelings of love for a child. That love alone can lift you up on a bad day. Let children delight you.

So that's my words for the day. Even if the Abraham-Hicks thing isn't your thing, look around your world more. Take in every scent, sight, sound, taste. Be grateful for what you have and for what you are lacking... know that God, the Universe, whatever your cup of tea is, that you will be taken care of.

Blessings to all of you,

fin.

To the Woman By the Window

I have been feeling a lot of ANGER in the past two days.

Anger at my father for treating me like he usually treats me - like a child, disrespectfully, and all this 2 weeks before he's supposed to walk me down the aisle at my wedding. I bubble over with anger.

Anger at my best friend for walking over me once again, for putting our friendship - not second - because I can understand second beneath her daughter - but on the sidelines. Feeling betrayed and misunderstood.

I was sitting at the Yarn Cafe today, my place of choice for writing and reading and grounding myself. I wrote a twenty-page journal entry. My hand just kept going and going, not tiring, not stopping.

Then I noticed a woman, around my age, maybe a little younger, sitting beside me at a table by the window. The sun streamed in and I looked at her and she was crying a little, wiping away tears, sniffling. She was writing in her journal as well.

My heart leapt from my chest and I wanted to do something nice for her. I wanted to give her a gift.

So I wrote a short note about how I journal too and couldn't help but notice that she was crying. That I was a teacher of writing and firmly believed that healing takes place when we write things out. I wished healing for her. I wished for her to take a deep breath when she was done and go outside and feel the sun on her face and smell the fragrant air.

I went up to the counter and bought a square piece of fudge for a dollar and presented it on a plate. I walked up to her (of course having my bag packed so I could make a quick getaway) and handed her the fudge, the note, and said, "I hope your day gets better."

She looked up at me with glassy, teary eyes, and said with an awestruck smile, "Oh my god..."

I smiled and walked away, winking at the barista who knew what I had done on the way out.

Walking across the wildflowers that grew along the railroad tracks, I felt my heart soar. I felt like an angel. But this is not about me. Granted, it made me feel special and like a million bucks, but moreso, I wanted HER to feel good. To know that someone always watches out for her, be it the Universe or a stranger at a cafe who notices her tears.

Maybe I actually wrote that letter to myself. Maybe I actually bought that fudge for myself and in the act of giving it to her... relieved some of the anger and distress I felt.

So, woman in the cafe, I hope that lit up your heart a bit. I wish for you a little more hope than what you came in with.

I know it softened me up a little. I don't feel as angry. I look around and I see my Callie lying in the window, sun on her, eyes half-slits of contentment. I know my fiance will be home soon and I can cry or laugh in his arms, whichever I feel. I can be proud of what I did, know that I am a good person... that a bit of my mother came out back there... I'm kinder than my father gives me credit for, I'm less selfish than my best friend gives me credit for.

And I'll leave it at that. Some things aren't meant to be dissected.

Pass a random act of kindness on. It will brighten someone else's day and make you feel so good.

fin.

Ways I Was a Mama Today

~ The lady at Walgreens said to Gabrielle, "are you shopping with your Mama today?" and Gabrielle didn't dispute her.

~ Taking the kids to McDonalds and buying happy meals for all of them (uf! $$$) and watching them play on the equipment.

~ holding Atrus when he fell down and got hurt.

~ teaching Aislyn how to use facial gel to help her with her new burgeoning acne (pre-teen!). I made it fun for her. I got Neutrogena pink grapefruit scrub and told her she had to make funny faces in the mirror as she put on the soap. :)

~ During candle time, while we say a thing or person we're proud of, Aislyn said she was proud of ME for the great way I took care of them today while Daddy was at work. I beamed.

~ Hugging each kid good night and saying I love yous all around.

~ Saying prayer together at dinner (I never did this until now).

~ Sitting here knowing my soon-to-be husband is reading the girls to sleep; Atrus is already asleep... feeling content knowing my new family is loved and safe.

I am so in love with the life of being a step-mama.

fin.

Development is Relative

Today I went to MARC-East to do my part of the Alzheimer's Poetry Project. This would be a little bit different because the audience was not so much Alzheimer patients, but people with development and cognitive disabilities. I admit I was nervous because I have less experience with that population, but I had Lauren there to help me. She's one of the wonderful staff there.

I had about 9 people, most of them had Downs Syndrome plus some other disability. One of them lay on the couch, in her final days... she emitted peace and love. Her name was Sue.

I started by tapping out "Tyger, Tyger, burning bright / in the forests of the night" on their laps or tapping their hands. They seemed to love the interaction and smiled brightly and nodded as I recited the lines. Robert knew most of the poems and said them two steps faster than I did.

I read "The Purple Cow" and they all laughed at its hilarity.

Then I read some nursery rhymes which they loved the most. Many could remember. Such as Hickory Dickory Dock... or Hey Diddle, Diddle.

The most precious part was when I asked each person what was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. With Alzheimer's residents, we often get answers like rainbows and churches, and there was no difference here. Many people said church and rainbows and sunshine. Sue, the woman on her way to Heaven, said, "God watching over us" and Marge said angels. Aleta said, "the MARC female staff."

Aleta was a curious one. I immediately fell in love with her. She had beautiful curly black hair and pretty eyes. I later found out she had gotten into a massive car accident at age 10 which had damaged her forever. She had all her memories up to age 10, though. She talked with lots of saliva and a severe slur, but she told me how, as a little girl, she would kneel by her bed and pray. And when I sang, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" with her, she said I had a beautiful voice. She had such a beautiful heart.

Really, they all had beautiful hearts. As we sang:

"You are my sunshine
my only sunshine
You make me happy
when skies are gray
You'll never know dear
how much I love you...
please don't take
my sunshine away"

I had a lump in my throat as I looked at Sue hooked up to a breathing machine, but all decked out in necklaces and a pretty dress, lying on the couch under an afgan. I looked around the room and realized each person was a ray of sunshine that I was truly blessed to meet. They wouldn't live to old age and that hurt me. Those last lines of the song always haunted me and as I went around shaking hands goodbye (some hugs, too) I wished each of them, silently, a long and happy life full of love and tenderness.

fin.

Catch-up

Lee made it clear that I ought to update my blog since I last left you with a heavy, depressing entry. Things are going wonderfully now. Poor Lee has to get up at 2:00 now instead of 3 because he got a promotion (a thankless one) and I am so proud of him... I'm not waking up so often early in the morning. Still having nightmares, but not much I can do about that (maybe not watch "Lost" right before going to bed).

I went to Kenilworth, IL (a suburb of Chicago) this past weekend to visit my aunt and uncle and also to go to my first acupuncture appointment. I brought along my friend, Andrew, and we had a great time. The acupuncture appointment was great, though I don't feel any residual effects like I had hoped. My neck still hurts.... although... hey, I haven't gotten a stress headache since then. So maybe it worked. I'd like to go regularly here in Madison, but everyone is so dang expensive and I have VERY little money.

Wedding planning is going well. We're taking a tally of what everyone is bringing, food-wise, since this is a potluck. So far, good stuff. Lasagna, vegi-chili, a beef dish, finger desserts, plus much more. We're awesome in the food department.

I have two exciting publishing opportunities. The literary magazine that used to be called "Free Verse" and which is now "Verse Wisconsin" edited by Wendy Vardaman and Sarah Busse contacted me about writing a January article about the Alzheimer Poetry Project for their readers. My first non-fiction piece! Exciting and scary. I'm much more comfortable in poetry-land... but I'll do it, gladly!

Secondly, a prestigious and favorite publishing company wants to publish "Motherlung" but is having financial difficulties and we are working things out to see if they can't publish me in 2012... it's amazing and exciting... to imagine my love for my mother out in this world for all to read. I hope they can give me a contract.

Gimme some online love for my cat, Callie, won't you? She has bad dental problems and is not grooming herself as much. I took her to the vet and they did blood tests and everything came back fine (thank god!) but her dental problems will set me back a prettty penny, but meanwhile, I'm giving her drops to make the pain in her teeth lessen. I love her so much and worry so much.... good energy is appreciated!

Good energy is also appreciated toward my chapbook, "Oh, Olena" being published by Concrete Wolf Press. I mailed it out yesterday. It's a unique chapbook: poems written to a real poet (Olena Kalytiak Davis) as I imagine that she is my mentor and can answer my life questions. It's a little whacky; her poetry is equally whacky. I highly recommend her books.

Well, my hand joints are a-hurtin so I'll wrap this up.

Make your mark. Write "I was here" somewhere today.

fin.

Grief Leaves for Work Every Morning

I often wake up when Lee's alarm clock rings at 2:45am. Sometimes I go back to sleep, sometimes I am wide awake, as I am now, and come downstairs to putz around on the computer. Every time, however, as I lie upstairs in bed, listening to him, downstairs, gathering his lunch, getting ready to leave, listening to his footsteps plod along the wooden floor, I hearken back to the days when I laid in bed at the tender age of thirteen (and up), as my mother bustled around the house at 5:30am, as the coffee percolator percolated, as the curling iron clicked its heat from the bathroom.

The footsteps. Busy, intentional, careless. My cat at my feet curled up in a circle not noticing what was about to happen. And what was about to happen? They were about to walk out the door.

When I was thirteen, I heard my mother's heels click-clacking across the kitchen to the living room and back again. It was a small house. I would hear her approach the front door, open it with a slight squeal, open the screen door, and close the heavy door behind her, the key's jingle making sure I knew she was going. It gave me a heavy heart. It introduced me, a latchkey child, a sort of loneliness I hadn't known before. I was alone in the house, me and the cat, and I would have to wake up in a few hours to start my own day. In a way, I suppose, it taught me independence. But I didn't know that at thirteen, or fourteen, or fifteen, when all I could feel was the ache in my heart whenever she'd seal the door with her keys. Come back and hold me...I'd think. I still need you.

And here I am at age 31 (odd: the reverse of 13), in the best relationship of my life, living with my fiance and in only 50-something-odd days will be marrying him. Here I am at age 31 waking up almost every morning with him or staying in bed listening to him turn on the shower, listening to the water rush down the drain, listening to him walk down the stairs, to the kitchen to get his breakfast and grab his lunch for the day, then opening the heavy wood door, then the screen door, and finally giving the door that secure key-turn lock. Come back and hold me a little while longer...I think. I still need you.

Mom and Lee walk out the door to work.

-ust -oking.

It's time I update my blog; I can feel it in my bones. But I just don't know what to say. Because of that, it is the law with me that I will find something to say and go on and on about it. Now I'm just wondering what to do about it.

Let's write a list.

#1 The "j" letter sticks on this keyboard. Lee and I think one of kids spilled -uice or something on it. See? The "j" wouldn't work there either. I had to give it a good beating -ust to use it above. See how vital the (BAM) j is in our society? Personally, the (BAM) j button has haunted me, romantically speaking, and all I have to say is thank goodness Lee's name doesn't start with a (BAM) J name.

Ah yes, it started with -oseph. Then it was -ohn. Then it was -oel. Then there was a -avier somewhere in there who liked me, but I didn't return the feelings. There was -ake, more recently and who meant more than the other (BAM) J names.

But I've seemed to let go of (BAM) J or it's let go of me. Are there letters that follow you around? You know, now that I think about it, it started in kindergarten for me. We all sat on a letter of the alphabet in this big circle. The squares were pea-green and white, alternatingly. I sat on the pea-green (BAM) J. That must have started it all.

What haunts you?

#2 I'm involved now with the Alzheimer Poetry Pro-ect. Excuse the lack of (BAM) J's but I just can't BAM anymore. Anyway, this pro-ect is extremely near and dear to my heart. Gary Glazner, famous poet and writer founded it and we got in touch years ago. Recently, he gained a grant from someone in Milwaukee to form a chapter of the Alzheimer's Poetry Pro-ect here in Wisconsin. And he remembered that I lived in Madison so he emailed me up and soon he was training me. I went to my first "Gig" this past Monday.

It went beyond my wildest expectations. The people there were so loving and happy and grateful for us to be there (Gary had flown over from his home in Brooklyn to help me out for my first time). We sing-songed Blake's "The Tyger" and danced to Poe's "The Raven..." I had such fun! I loved seeing the looks on these peoples' faces.

One woman, whenever we would ask for someone's name, would start singing a song that had that name in it. It was hilarious and sweet. We all sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" when, during the group poem, one woman said the most beautiful thing she had ever seen was a rainbow. The only man in the room said "a pretty woman." That got us laughing. One woman said ME! I blushed.

I've been asked by Gary to do six more "gigs" and I'm thrilled to do so. I get paid a bit so that helps, too, since I'm still unemployed. *groan.*

#3 Lee and I are each having respective "hard days" and I'm glad to see that we are being the see-saw that we need to be to make this work. I rise to the occasion when he's hurting or upset and he does so when I am. It works wonderfully. Even simply KNOWING he needs me to be strong helps me feel better, stronger, more able to be the calm, reassuring voice he needs to hear.

#4 In appoximately 50-something days, WE WILL BE MARRIED! Woo hoo! Will things seem different? My left hand will feel heavier. I'll be so excited to use my new last name every chance I get. Want me to sign for the bill? You bet! I suppose I'll be taking us out to dinner a lot. ;)

#5 I'd be interested from any of you who take antidepressants: do you have vivid nightmares regularly? I do. I know some of it has to do with the fact that I'm on meds, but I also know my subconscious can be a real beast sometimes and I wonder if I'm not doing this to myself. But I really can't be THAT tormented, can I? I mean I woke up hitting my thigh over and over because I dreamt my father was suffocating me with a pillow. And I dream of being raped and abused and all these other things. I am back to dreaming about theatre now that "The Wind in the Willows" is over. Must I keep dreaming about failing in theatre until I get a lead role in which I must memorize something? Because that's where the fear lies: in memorization. I have to memorize some poems for the Alzheimer Poetry Pro-ect and it's already putting me into a tizzy. And yes, I had a "traumatic" experience with theatre memorization back in college. Don't ask.

Well, I'm outta ideas so you'll have to go find something else to read now. :)

Thanks for bein there,

over and out,

fin.

Carrying the Albatross

I got a surprise in the mail the other day: a literary journal called "The Albatross." Accompanying it was a letter that read, "Dear Contributor..." and I thought, aw man, another rejection letter...and then I mused on what "contributor" meant. Wait a minute! I was PUBLISHED in this journal! I opened it up and on the second page was MY poem from "Motherlung," The Operation. I was ecstatic. The third poem from "Motherlung" to be published professionally! Rack 'em up, baby!!

Go here to see the pdf online version. It's a beautiful journal with a beautiful message.

Today I got a phone call from the eminent poet, Gary Mex Glazner (author of "How to Make a Living as a Poet" and other books), who heads up the National Alzheimer Poetry Project. I tried to start up my own chapter here in Madison a few years ago. All it takes is reading poetry and interacting with elderly people with Alzheimer's. It seems that Gary is now in Madison and has been given a grant to start a chapter here - hooray! - and wants to meet with me to see if I'd be interested in being involved with it. I have to agree, I'm hesitant - only because I'm putting all of my energies into finding a job and my relationships with Lee and the kids...and the wedding. That's a lot on my plate. Oh, have I mentioned that Lee and I are going ahead with the wedding this August? We are, much to our delight. We've done some excellent work and are continuing to build upon the foundation we have had. We feel confident this is the right decision.

ANYWAY, I don't know if I should involve myself too much with the Alzheimer Poetry Project. I want to because I love reading to the elderly... but I can't afford, literally, to spend much time on things that don't give me an income. Sad, but true. Still, though, before pick-up rehearsal tonight, I'm meeting with Gary and we'll talk about it.

Keep cool during these summer months. It's been a scorcher!

fin.

"I Don't Know Why I'm Frightened...."

I don't know why I'm frightened
I know my way around here
The cardboard trees, the painted scenes, the sound here.
Yes a world to rediscover,
But I'm not in any hurry
And I need a moment...

That apt song can pertain to my re-entrance of the theatre last night (Opening Night of "The Wind in the Willows") as well as my foray into step-motherhood.

Opening night was stupendous. I had Lee and the kids in the audience and it felt so good to play to someone out there. We all did a great job and I'm so proud of our cast and crew. The actress is back!

In other news, the title is apt because I'm having to take care of the three kids BY MYSELF today for a few hours. Parents, I don't envy you. These are three wonderful yet hard kids, too. Lee had to go into work unexpectedly and here I was. Lauren had gone home. I panicked. I wanted my mommy. I counted to ten and did the best job I could do. I'm still doing the best job I can do.

I admit; I'm so frightened of being a step-mother. Of parenting these kids. I love them; I do. But they present such challenges.
Speaking of which, I hear loud pounding upstairs which I better attend to.

Think good thoughts for me?

fin.

In response to anonymous comment in last post - "JC"

BUT, "JC" - REAL friends would RESPECT my boundaries and the fact that they don't have to know every ding-dang thing in my life. I've had numerous people read that blog entry and say, you know? You're right. You have every right to your privacy. All I said, JC, was that I was given a second chance.... that I was starting over... to YOU, I said Lee and I were having difficulties and I didn't want to go into it. That should've been it. "Oh, sorry to hear it, LM, hope things work out." Zip. Nilch. Nip in the bud.

I'm sorry to lose your friendship, too, "JC", but I don't feel you know me anymore or, for that matter, even WANT to know me anymore. I don't take your loss lightly. I hope you at least know that.

I will still share things on this blog, but don't you see? My relationship with Lee involves TWO people - me and him. And when I share things with friends, I have to think about that OTHER part of the equation, too. And THAT is what I've never done before. Perhaps you didn't mind me being so free with our relationship, but Lee does mind. I owe him that respect, just as I SHOULD have respected you back then.

Finito.

Make No Mistake Who I Am

Because I just lost two dear friends due to the misconception of who I am, who I have become, let me be clear to you.

I used to blog everything in my life. Had a fight? Blog it here. Experienced something intense with a lover? Blog it here.

I no longer find this suitable or appropriate. Lee has taught me many things, the least of all being that what happens between one partner and another in their relationship - is between the two of them. Oh, I'll tell you about my birthday and how we went to a bed and breakfast and went horse back riding. I might even post pictures. But will I tell you what happened this past week to make our wedding be postponed? I'm afraid not.

I will talk about my revelations about it, yes. I am in therapy and I am talking about many hard things. I'm looking at my not-so-nice sides and figuring out how I can stay true to my character, true to the morals and values I hold dear. Morals and values I partly learned from Lee.

I make no apology for not telling you (the royal "you," whoever "you" are) what happened last week. It is intense and painful and Lee and I are dealing with it. So if you come here to learn what goes on in my private life, sorry to say, you're not going to find it anymore. If that deters some people, so be it.

I will still be the person seeking optimism, seeking magic, seeking to become a better person. I will still love myself enough to honor myself. I will still talk about my relationship with Lee, just not our private conversations and difficulties.

I will say that since the "hurricane," as he calls it, of last week, we have been more consciously loving each other and rebuilding trust and it is ever-so-sweet. I am letting him into more of my world, more of my heart - places I assumed he couldn't access. But he is proving me mistaken, which is such a blessing. We are deepening our bond so when we DO get married, perhaps a year from now... we will have a firmer foundation beneath our feet.

So... make no mistake in who I am, who I have become. I am not harsher, I am not mean. I am simply learning a better way to live.

Thank you for reading,

fin.

Changes in the Wind

"Please try to be patient
and know that I'm still learning
I'm sorry that you have to see
the strength inside me burning..."
--"Once" the movie from the song, "The Hill."

My dear readers and stumble-upon-ers and followers: much in life has changed. I have not been myself for the past month. It's like I went on an Idiot Vacation. My heart was not acting in according to my brain and I just felt... distanced from what I know is good in my life.

Lee and I have decided to postpone our wedding for approximately a year for a myriad of reasons. A lot of it being financial and job-related. We want to have a more stable ground beneath us before we enter marriage.

It hurts my heart because I was so looking forward to marrying this man August 29th, but we are building a foundation now.

Our love is as strong, if not stronger than ever. I am amazed at how much we are looking at ourselves and our relationship and seeing what we can do to better it. I am so in love with him - for being the kind, generous, loving man that he is. And for forgiving me of my foibles.

So times are fragile, but they are real and *I* feel real. I'm letting him into my "world" more - my world of spirituality, creativity, etc. He is making a real effort and doing wonderfully. I feel closer to him. And I'm proud of the effort I'm doing as well. And that's what love sometimes takes: a little extra effort.

I'm having to change a lot about myself, look at not-so-glamorous things about myself and change them. I have to be gentle with myself, as well.

In other news, "The Wind in the Willows" opens in a week or so. I'll post more details about that later.

Hold close and honest to the ones you love.

fin.

On the uP-Swing

Fact: I go a bit loony without the internet and I am not ashamed of it. I have integrated it into a big part of my life. I look for jobs on line, I visit favorite web sites, but, most importantly, it's how I stay connected to people.

We don't have the internet at home anymore. We will as of this Friday, fortunately. I've been coming to the Yarn Cafe for internet usage, but that means I have to buy a coffee or some such drink and spend money and while I want nothing more than to support the Yarn Cafe, I have little money to spend. So. I look forward to Friday when the installation happens. I feel like it's the re-installation of my sanity because just ask Lee: PMS + no internet = NASTY LISA!!!!

A dear kindred friend has come into my life in the form of Jack. I look forward to seeing this friendship bloom and can't believe my luck at finding such a gifted, compassionate person to be friends with. I have such a knack for finding kindreds. I'm so lucky.

I'm still struggling with finding a job. Lee and I recently talked how I have to step up my game, so to speak. Start looking harder, more determination, etc. Which is, admittedly, hard when you don't have internet at home AND I'm taking care of Atrus many days. He's over a lot of this week, but next week I intend on hitting the pavement harder. However, today, he is at day care (the one day I have off this week) so I'm here at my fav. cafe using the internet and looking at jobs and updating my facebook (facecrack).

I found a part-time job listing for a Life Enrichment Coordinator in Sun Prairie which is what I did at Harbor House in 2005 - worked with Alzheimer residents. It was hard, hard work but I know I can do it now. I have the heart and the skin, I just know I do. So think in your heads: "get the job...get the job....get the job...."

Lee and I are at a sad crossroads with money... we may have to move out of our beloved house once the lease is up... so concentrate and think in your pretty little heads, "keep the house... keep the house..." or if you like, "find something better and more affordable... find something better and more affordable..." --

close to work
not too far from Lee's work
close to the kids
close to a cafe!
safe neighborhood to take walks and rides in


and oh! The wedding! It is a-comin! I have yet to mail out invitations, but the people who are coming know who they are. Lee made these BEAUTIFUL invitations which I am so proud of.
We shall have a potluck, ice cream cake, and I *think* I've found my dress. We were going to go for a casual summer wedding and I was going to buy a simple, summer dress... but then I went to the store, Deb, and found the DRESS.

A gown - white with blue diamond embroidery. It's from their prom collection and I have to order it... like today. Eek!

Many thanks to the effervescent Heather for going dress-shopping with me.

Oh - my birthday holiday! I have yet to tell you all about the marvelous two days Lee and I spent horse-back riding and lazying around the Atrium Bed and Breakfast. I'll do that once he gets the pictures taken care of and photoshopped, etc. So that is on the way.

I'll take this opportunity to recommend my dear friend, Miriam Hall's, blog, "inside space"
which is fascinating and catch-your-breath-beautiful. She is someone I want to spend a lot more time with and am grateful that I know.

Rehearsals for "The Wind in the Willows" are going....
we open in June and start off-book and full-runs next week. I dare say the chorus has no idea where what song fits where... but I am sure it will come together. I wish I had a piano at my house so I could practice the songs.

That's my update for you all. Today is a good day. Upper 60s to low 70s, sunny, porch weather.

May you enjoy, wherever you are.

fin.

To Sheryn Marie

Sheryn, please email me your latest email address, I would like to catch up, etc. My email is equinox14@hotmail.com

love

Lisa Marie

Nearly 31 and I'm Still Here

Hello. Welcome back. Guess what? Tomorrow, I turn 31. When I was 15, I told myself I wasn't going to make it to 21. When I was 21 I said I wasn't going to make it to 24. At 24 I was flabbergasted to be alive. To have survived all I had. At 28, when Mom was dying, I decided if she died - I would die, too. But I didn't. I had tremendous help (Dr. Moore, Meriter Hospital, Jake, Laurie, Vic, Andrew, Becky, Lauren, plus many others around the world) and I made it through.

Now I'm looking 31 in the face and saying, I WILL turn into you. I feel like I'm at the top of a big hill, being 30. A big accomplishment... and while I have pressures and worries and such in my life right now, I see my 30s as a downward fun slide. I'm getting married, gaining step-kids (which all comes with stressors and such, but love is what I'm talking about right now), hopefully 31 will find me a stable job I can have for years and years.

I'm not pretending my 30s will be all fun and games. I know I chose to live a life of extremes and struggle and what-not even before I was born (this is what I believe).... but I also chose love. True, unconditional love. For others, from others, for my Self. And that is what will be manifesting in my 30s, I believe.

I could list a host of negatives that are going on right now - money, stress about relationships and children... .but I won't go there.

Because this is my last day being 30 and for the most part, I think 30 was a banner year.

Tomorrow, Lee and I are leaving are Madison woes behind as we speed off to Eau Claire to go horseback riding through the forest (with a guide) and then to our beloved "Atrium Bed and Breakfast" that we treated ourselves to last year. We think it is Heaven on Earth. We're going to relax in the jacuzzi, go hiking, rent "Once" and "Lost" (we miss it so since our internet access left us at home) and just relax. Friday, we are trying to hook up with Lee's best friend and best man, Brian and his amazing wife, Vanessa. Then it's back to Madison Friday night to face our reality.

I'm pretty damn grateful for my life, though. I'm proud I've made it through to 31 and can't wait to see what my 30s have in store for me. Mom always said your 30s are so much easier, in some ways, than your 20s.

So long live birthdays and horses and beautiful four-post beds and hiking trails and escaping.... and then coming back.

fin.

Happy Birthday Mom and other musings

Happy Birthday, Mom, who did not get to live past 52. This year would be her 54th birthday. She doesn't age in my mind. Perhaps she simply stayed 30 and I stayed a little girl. When I think of her, I see soft, chestnut hair, not the sun-bleached hair of her later years and then the tufts of hair of her last months. I have a picture of her on my birthday/Mother's Day - my last birthday and Mother's Day with her - in 2006, the year she died, and she's in my church parking lot with a white scarf around her head. The scarf shocked me, I remember; it was so white and apparent. It was so "I have cancer." I was embarrassed. Then I was saddened. But I sang in the choir for her. I sang so lovely and she said she could hear me; she could always hear me.

The play I'm in, "The Wind in the Willows," is the first play she won't be in the audience for. I know she'll "see me" in it in the spiritual, metaphysical way people use when they pat you on the back and assure you of a departed one's presence. But I want her THERE. I want her giving me carnations after the show. Taking me out for pie. Just like she did in high school.

I was having some serious "visitation" dreams there for a while. She would come to me and really BE THERE in my dreams. My subconscious got to visit with her and I'm so glad I had those dreams. But on the third night, she said she couldn't come visit me anymore and I cried and begged her not to go, but she said she had to. And I haven't had a visitation dream like that since. Still, I take comfort in knowing that I sat with her and saw her and talked with her.

I'm at Lauren's house right now. She's putting Alexandria to sleep. Not an easy feat. I whispered my "I love you" in the little one's ear and she gave me a kiss. So sweet. It's odd how much children play a role in my life these days and will forevermore. Lauren's daughter, Alexandria, Lee's three kids: Aislyn, Gabrielle, and Atrus. I'm growing into a real parental figure. And wouldn't Mom love that. Wouldn't she be proud of who I've turned into. Quite a different woman from when she last left me in November of 2006.

And is it any accident that my favorite RN from Meriter Hospital contacted me today and said he loved reading my poetry on the internet and how special I was? I have meant to mail him a copy of "We Nod Our Dark Heads" since it was while I was on that psych ward in July of '06 that I heard Parallel Press was going to publish it. I just hadn't gotten around to it. I felt Mom's hand on my shoulder, her nodding, as I read his email, saying how special I was. Mom always told me I had an good effect on people. I hadn't seen this man since 2006 or so (a friend of mine was on the ward later on and I visited her there and saw him then, but I forgot when that was) and here he was writing me on the birthday of my mother and telling me what she would tell me. It takes my breath away.

Well, the little angel is asleep and Lauren is out in the living room. I hope she doesn't mind if I cry softly in her lap, just for a few minutes or so.

Thank you for being witness to my days. I appreciate you all.

fin.

Precious Moments

No, I don't mean the overly saturated cutsie dolls from Hallmark stores...

I mean these moments:

~ going to the park with Gabrielle and Lee yesterday. Pushing her on the swing and her saying "Higher! Higher!"

~ teaching her how to say please and thank you and ask instead of telling.

~ giving her a bath - my favorite part of last night. I've been over at Lauren's so often when she's giving Alexandria a bath and I see it's such a great bonding time for them... I gave 5 yr old Gabrielle her first bath. I gave her lavender bubbles and she washed her hair and we had lots of fun. I told her she was so beautiful, the boys would all be asking her out for dates when she got older. She giggled. I wrapped her up in her frog towel and we combed the snarles out of her hair. That, to me, was precious time. I thought to myself, "this could be my girl." She looks like me to an extent (Brown hair and eyes) though her disposition is NOTHING like mine.... but you know what? She asked ME to read her a bedtime story and rub her back at night so she could go to sleep. That touched me so much.

~There I sat, in my decades old rocking chair - that belonged to my great-great-great grandmother - and I read Cinderella, the version I had when I was her age.... and I rubbed her back as she fell asleep. She was so scared of nightmares but she fell alseep easily and didn't wake up once. That shows she felt safe and I am so glad.

~Poor tired Lee was in bed trying to sleep and I came in and told him what a wonderful father he was. He truly is. I love parenting with him.

~ And right now, Atrus is on my lap playing with cars, talking in his jibber jabber high voice about buses and cars. I'm going to take advantage of this precious moment right now and get off the computer to play with him.

To quote the questionable Whitney Houston, "I believe the children are our future..."

fin.

Stepmother Growing Pains

Phew, the last 2 days have been a whirlwind of whining and getting Daddy's attention, and fighting and playing, and watching movies and talking with a candle in the middle of the table, changing diapers, getting between the two youngest who fight, talking to the oldest who can't stand her sister and feels like she sacrifices too much.

I just dropped off the girls at school and now I have Atrus. I feel so ... time-bomb-ish. I'm so not used to dealing with a multitude of yelling and loudness. I'm used to quiet and space. But when you become a parental figure, I suppose you give that up. I admit I snapped at Atrus when he whined and asked for his cars which HE had but he thought I had. His howling just got to me more.

But I took a deep breath and sat next to him and whispered to him, it's ok, it's ok. And I said I was sorry I snapped. And now he's playing independently with his toys and whispering to himself which I do believe is one of the most precious things I've heard lately.

I worry about my boiling point sometimes. Just today when I am sick and have a headache and sore throat and have been up since 5:45am (nothing close to Lee being up since 3:00am) to make sure the girls got up and were ready on time.

Next week, it's just Gabrielle and Atrus staying overnight (we switch off) and let me tell you, that girl pushes my buttons. When I was little, she was the girl I didn't play with and didn't like because she was so mean and bossy. I admit, she intimidates me a little, but I can't let her see that. She's had some precious moments with me, like last night, when she held up her arms for a hug goodnight and she isn't a huggy kind of girl. That touched my heart. But for the most part, she is a struggle. Maybe she'll be better one-one-one, I don't know.

I have to wonder how our wedding will go. The kids are all in the procession down the staircase. Aislyn wants to be the flower girl and doesn't know yet that Gabrielle, too, was going to be the flower girl. I suggested Gabrielle blowing bubbles or something, but Lee said she'd probably blow too hard and get frustrated because she couldn't do it. And Atrus will, no doubt, be clinging to Lee during the ceremony because it's a new house with new people. Let's just say that at a recent birthday party, he didn't -wouldn't - take his coat off for an hour. It was his safety blanket.

So I might kiss my new husband with my stepson in his arms. Oh well, that wouldn't be so bad. I just want the kids to have a good time. I want to silly-dance with Gabrielle (Aislyn, I fear, would be too shy) and I so want to dance with Lee, but he doesn't like dancing. I'm still in the begging stage. I guess it all depends on whether we can get in better shape by the time we have to wear the tux and dress (me dress, him tux).

20 people are invited and the date is August 29th. We're having ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins for our wedding cake and we don't care if we get any eye rolling cuz we think it's ultra cool. And we're having a potluck so everyone is bringing their own dish. We're doing this mostly because we're on a tight, tight budget, but also so others can feel like they're participating, too.

The invitations should go out within the next 2 weeks.

Boy am I tired. Is it nap time, yet?

fin.

Learning Humility

I remember this feeling from high school...

Looking at the cast list and looking at the character you just thought for sure you'd get...

and seeing another person's name.

I remember that feeling.

I felt it this morning when I looked at the cast list for "The Wind in the Willows."

That sinking feeling.

I feel mixed because this play will take me away from Lee and the kids sometimes and definitely on Saturdays when we are the crew... and I don't like that. But when I thought I'd get a specific, bigger part, I was willing to go with that.

But now I'm a more chorus-like Rabbit.

A lesson in humility. I thought I did a fantastic job at auditions and callbacks. Who knows what the casting people were thinking. Maybe all Mother Rabbits had to be blonde.

Or *gasp*

what if I wasn't good enough?

Could that be it? Don't get too high for your britches, Lisa Marie.

So I'm grateful I get to be in a play that my step-kids can come and see me in and enjoy.

I'm grateful I had a great audition experience.

I'm grateful for Rabbit and I'm going to be the best gosh-darn Rabbit they've ever seen!

I remember this feeling...

fin.

Nibs and Callbacks!

[referring to a comment -] Nib: the point of a pen, or either of its divisions. Kate, is that you? ;)

I got a callback for Mother Rabbit! Callbacks are tonight and I'm excited, albeit a bit daunted by the time commitment. I'd miss seeing Lee and the kids a lot... but for this short time, I think it would be worth it.

The audition went superbly. I got many compliments afterward which made me float humbly around. I sang "On My Own" from Les Miz and if you know me, you know I'm obsessed with that show and I got into the part while I sang the song and just .... oh, I was just so in my element. I felt the shame of giving up theatre for 12 years slide away as I welcomed a piece of myself come back.

Break me a leg for tonight!

fin.

Broadway Baby

Prologue: Anyone who is close to me will realize what a HUGE DEAL THIS IS. Read at your own peril:


Wow. I can't believe I'm doing this. I saw "Oliver!" this weekend up in Eau Claire. It's a children's theatre and my friend was in it. I'm watching it and all this high school stuff is coming back to me. The "Who Will Buy" sequence gave me shivers just as it did while I stood sidestage back then, waiting to bustle onto the stage as a peddler.

And I thought... children's theatre... yes... I could do that. It feels less threatening. Given that I still dream and have nightmares about theatre, I wondered what dream I'd have after seeing "Oliver!" -- well it was a nightmare and horrible... I wonder what that means.

The way I left theatre was very bad. I overdosed on pills in 1996 and missed a performance of "Cabaret" I was in. I was chorus. All turned out well, but I was so scared to go back up on that stage, I never did again.

But seeing this "Oliver!"...... I thought yes... perhaps it's time... I need to honor the part of me I've shunned.

So..... get this... I looked into the Madison Children's Theatre and they're doing The Wind in the Willows and Evita!!! Holy cow, Evita!!!! The leads are already cast, but I would KILL to be a chorus member in Evita.
So... with song in hand and my heart dripping on my shirt (ew) I'm going to audition for "Wind" Monday night and Evita later this month.

I'm terrified.... what if I forget my lines like I do in all my nightmares? Like I did that day in drama class and never looked back?

But I'm excited... I feel like this part of me that I've exiled is coming out. Like I'm releasing her into the world.

And hey, I might not get either show. But just the auditioning process is a harrowing experience I've missed. At least I would have experience.

So... I wanted to tell you. This Broadway Baby is waking up...

break me a leg!

fin.

Today I Woke Up

I've been struggling for the past few weeks. Constant crying, fear, mostly chronic nightmares that color my day the darkest shade of black. Nightmares which make me feel worthless, useless, ugly, horrible and every other negative word you can think of. All stemming back to high school. I've been thinking: who am I? Who was I? Am I the same person? Of course not, but who am I, then? How have I changed for the bettter, for if I have not changed for the better, why am I still here?

I have more to say, but my dear friend, Melissa, posted this video on facebook and I wanted to share it with you, too. It is exactly what I needed to read and I hope you find meaning in it as well.



Have a fulfilling day, people. Let's be gentle with ourselves.

fin.

Coming Out of Hiding

Well, I've not exactly been in hiding... but a dear friend has been reminding me that it's been about a month since my last entry and I feel kinda bad for it.

I can say I've been busy and I'd be right, but I can always make time to write.

Honestly, my reasonings for writing have changed. I used to feel like the world had to know everything I was doing and I no longer feel that way.

I'm doing wonderfully with Lee. We're engaged and we're having more time with his kids which I'm thrilled about (ages 10, 5, and 2). He is a very private person and I guess some of it has rubbed off on me because I haven't wanted to display everything to the public.

Another reason for my absence is that I'm also very active on Facecrack - I mean Facebook.

So, let's see what has been going on.

I took Leonie's e-course, but peetered out on it in the last few weeks because a temp job took over and suddenly I was employed and not having time to paint and write and such. Of course that's b.s. because a TRUE artist can always find the time... but the job was sucking me dry and I just didn't WANT to create anything at the end of the day.

I'm still at that job... Monday promises to be better as they teach me an actual procedure that doesn't involve stamping for 8 hours a day for a week.

I co-facilitated a retreat with the gorgeous Melissa Simonson and Tanya O'Neill. We did coaching, yoga-dance, and writing. Unfortunately, I got NO sleep the night before and felt really off the day of the retreat. I felt disappointed in what I did or didn't bring to the table. It was not one of my best days. I know I'm a better workshop facilitator than that. But it's all a lesson and now I know I have to get adequate sleep and not compare myself to other people.

Lee and I are getting married on August 22, 2009 at my stepfather's house (Mom and John's house) - a large log home. They got married there as well as Lauren and Jason so it holds meaning. Unfortunately, it can't hold a lot of people so Lee and I have wittled the guest list to a total of 20 people. I desperately wanted more, but I had to compromise. Lee and I have been having a lot of talks about compromise. I think that's a good sign, though, about how we'll be entering our marriage.

MARRIAGE!! Did you hear that? I'm getting MARRIED! That's so... adult! My parents were married! They divorced, BUT they RE-MARRIED FABULOUS people.

And people, I'm a STEP-MOTHER!

Atrus already loves me. I see him a lot. He's with us 4 days a week now and I drive him to day care Thurs. and Fridays.

I've just begun to see Aislyn (10) and Gabrielle (5), though. They all ate dinner over at our house last Wednesday and ... it felt like a real family.

Lee said this and Gabrielle said, "nuh uh, Lisa isn't part of the family," very innocently.

Aislyn, bless her, said, "Well, she's kind of like... a step-mom..."

I beamed inside. We all said "grace" and I felt like I could really do this the rest of my life.

In other news, Lee and I are looking into buying or mortaging a house after we get married. It's not for sure because of our financial states... but we hope to. We'd like to get into one of Dane county's surrounding areas because taxes are lower, but still be close to Madison. Lee's a rural guy, I need my cafe in the city. ;)

We had squirrels up in our attic and I'd like to thank the Precious Memento Gods for protecting my pictures, notebooks, and stuff. The squirrels just got the box lids. I'm going to Target tomorrow and buying tubs galore for everything.

Satuday nights, Lee plays XboxLive and connects with his friends and I go somewhere and connect with my friends. Tonight I'm going to see dear Andrew. I'm hoping to do some oil pastel work because I haven't been creative in so long.

Oh, I'd just like to say I HATE UNEMPLOYMENT. I've been trying to call them for months because I'm owed thousands of dollars and every time I try to get to a live person, it hangs up on me. ARRRGH!

So... overall, I'm a happy lady these days. I look at my ring finger about 10 times every day. :) I love my kitty cat so much. I love my Lee and his kids, my step-kids.

I'm grateful I have a job in this economy. I hope to find a better full-time, better paying job on my own that's not through a temp agency.

I'm waiting for the news that "Motherlung" will be picked up by a publisher that I send it to... which means I have to send it to more places. Hee hee.

Thanks for coming to read the blog. Sometimes I feel like no one really cares what I have to say and then someone mentions that I haven't written in a while and I feel my heart grow big and soft. :)

Bless you all and I hope life is loving you big-time.

fin.

The Future Just Got a Whole Lot Brighter!

When I met Lee last Februrary 4th, 2008, I knew it was a big moment. He was so very handsome and as we talked, it was so easy and joyful. We had a lot in common and we left that early cold, wintry morning with a big hug that felt.... like we'd known each other before.

One year later, it's still cold and wintry, but last night Lee made my dreams come true. He asked me to marry him. We both cried with joy and thought about all that has happened this past year (good and bad) and we just embraced for five long minutes.

He didn't have a ring because he hasn't gotten his tax refund back yet, so today I have a red twisty-tie on my right hand so it feels like I have something on and as a visual reminder.

I'm beyond happy and so excited.

fin.

Happy Anniversary!

Today is Lee and my 1 year anniversary. Happy 1 Year to Us!!!!

Things are going well, despite me not having a job yet. That is a big stressor, but I'm being extremely creative - painting, sculpting, drawing, and writing.

More soon.

fin.

Kali, Destruction, and Mama

So where have I been? Why haven't you heard, darling? I'm doing Leonie's fabulous, wondrous, life-evolving Creativity Goddess e-course. And oh my is it worth the little money I paid for it. She is a wonder of a woman. She really is. I hope to emulate her positivity in my workshops.

This week we are talking about the Goddess Kali (Hindu?). She is depicted strangely, with many arms and usually with dark skin or blue skin. And her tongue sticks out in a bold, wide-eyed pose.

Leonie is teaching us to make friends with Kali. She brings destruction, but only for the sake of transformation. She can teach you to be a warrior. She can help end negative cycles.

What immediately came to mind was how opposite my own mother was to Kali. Oh, she was a warrior spirit all right, but she took care of me too much. She gave me money too easily in hard times. She just wanted to save me from any more pain. With Goddess Kali, there might be pain necessary before the blooming takes place.

Goddess Kali teaches us to let go. In a fierce manner.

I think it's time I let go of the notion....

and this is hard...

that I'm going to see Mom again soon.

It's like I'm always waiting for the doorbell or phone to ring. Even after two years.

Meeting Lee and moving forward with our relationship was step away from the clutching I did to Mom. Mom was about dependence. Lee was about independence.

But I still feel I am a vine which grows around my mother... a dying vine because she, alone, can't sustain me anymore. In spirit she can.... but I have to accept it. She's gone.

That's all well and good to say, but this week, I intend on creating things which will help me to implement that into my soul story.

I'm over at Becky's right now. We're going to have coffee with delightful amaretto cream and then we're going to do art. She's going to teach me watercolor techniques and I might make another painting. Oh, I didn't show you my first painting, did I. Well, I'll upload that soon, promise.

I'm scared to dance with Goddess Kali, to tell the truth. She can be fierce. And this Tender Warrior is afraid of fierce. But I have to trust that she knows what is best. She can be a mother, too.

Speaking of destruction, my body is taking its toll as is my car and wallet. I've gotten into 2 fender benders AFTER the big accident of September. It's all the ice's fault. Stupid ice.

I fell in my doorway and landed flat on my chest - and now 2 week later, my right ribs hurt A LOT. I might have to go into the doctor and see if I haven't damaged some internal organ. Blech.

I had Strep Throat TWICE in October and November.

I've had this cold-turned-sinus cold for two weeks now. I'm tired of breathing out only one nostril.

I don't have health insurance. I'm going to have to pay weekly.

I still don't have a job.

But where a little rain must fall, there is usually a rainbow.

My friends, Melissa and Tanya, and I are going to co-facilitate a day-long retreat March 8th. More details to follow. Just know it's going to be scrumptious.

Women only... it's going to include yoga-dance, life coaching, value-setting, and creative writing. Yum!

And of course Leonie's e-course is feeding me well.

So I'm hopeful things will improve.

Thanks to VSD for reading my blog and responding to my last question in "True North."

How does Goddess Kali work in your life right now?

fin.

True North

So these two other delicious women and I are running a day-long retreat and today we got together to talk about it. Tanya does Yoga-dance and Melissa is a life coach. And I'm a writer. We're focusing on one's direction in life... how to find your authentic self... stuff like that.

Melissa is a genius in marketing and life coaching. I've not seen what Tanya does, but she works with the chakras. And then I'll come in and work with them through writing.

I knew that taking Leonie's e-course would open my eyes and change my way of being a workshop facilitator. It's funny, I'm not just a participant of Leonie's course, but I'm observing her facilitating and seeing how I can better myself. I already have great ideas. And I can't wait to see how Melissa facilitates things because I can pick things up from her, too.

My own workshop, "Inside Out Writing Workshops," is going through a transition. Initially thought for people with depression and those struggling with some trauma, I wanted to lighten the workshop up a bit. It felt too heavy. So I'm revamping it in my mind. It's going slowly and I'm not so sure of my footing sometimes, but I trust the process.

I feel energized and excited after my day with the beautiful goddesses. And here I come home. Lee is watching a movie and now I have to find something to do for myself which is challenging. When I'm out with friends, I'm fine, but when I'm home with him, I feel needy of his time because we don't see each other that often.

Perhaps I will go upstairs and revamp my "altar." It's more of a nightstand now... but -- OH! I had a fabulous idea. I want to get one of those wooden TV trays and set it up by my altar. It could hold a cup of tea while I sit on the windowseat...or act as a secondary altar...and I also want to go to the furniture store or thrift store and find a cabinet that can hold my art supplies.

So many directions my mind and body want to go in!

weeeeeee!!!

Where's your direction?

fin.

Reason #8760 why I wrote - NO SHAME

Some of you already know that I thought I was sexually abused when I was little. I thought this on and off all of my life. When my mother was alive, we devised a time line of events that led us to believe it could only have happened when I was 4 or 5. But we didn't know who, what, or where.

Then Mom died and I couldn't talk to her anymore.

I had a horrible nightmare two nights ago. And then, while talking to my dear spirit-brother, Andrew, who is gifted with dream inSIGHT, and some other divination tools, I began to remember the who and where part. It frightened me. It angered me.

I came home and fell apart in Lee's arms. I knew for sure now. My whole body knew it. My soul knew it. I had a face. I had a name. This scared me, but it also freed me.

Of all my friends, Alex will know most of all the damage this abuse has had on me. It affected our lives very deeply. I started having the flashbacks while we were together and try as we might to not let it affect us, it did.

Then the flashbacks went away.

I think the nightmare from the other night happened because it was time for me to know. I was in a safe and happy relationship with Lee. I was feeling loved by him and friends and family. I feel Mom felt it was time for me to know.

But this morning, after a much-needed dreamless sleep, I felt overwhelmed with things I had or ought or wanted to do.

Then I decided to bite the bullet and do what I knew I had to do: write. So I went to Borders and forgot all about poetic convention and metaphors; I just wrote out my feelings. Raw and untouched. I was angry. I was mourning. I was sad. I was so angry.

Then I went and bought a bunch of sale items stuff which satisfied the shopper in me.... but the writing is what made me feel empowered.

As a sidenote, I'm about to begin painting - first with watercolors, then with acrylics that dear Andrew gave me. All leading up to Leonie's e-course in the goddess inside us and creativity. I need to just make that first mark - that is the scariest part. And then I can begin. But do you realize how scary that first part is? That first blob of paint? What if it comes out wrong? What if it turns out ugly or people don't like it? What if *I* don't like it?

So it was today. I was nervous to start writing about the abuse. What if it made me feel worse? Well, it didn't. I felt more comfortable writing because that is my very breath.... but it's harder with art and me.

I will be patient with myself as I go and gRoW through this process. Of delving, of discovering, of healing, of writing, of painting. Nothing is wrong. I am not wrong. No-thing in me is wrong.

May you have the same revelation... only without the trauma behind it.

fin.

Stuck in-between

I have a wonderful resource for you. Leonie wrote all about what I wanted to write about. :) Check out her blog about how to survive the holidays and that in-between time between Christmas and New Years. I love what she has to say, as always.

I'm plunkin along fine here. Spending time with Atrus and Lee. I met the girls and they were delightful. I'm grateful for Sandy, Lee's mother, who helped me get through an emotional bubble-burst from a horrible fight with my father.

Yes, our relationship is in jeapordy. I don't know what to do yet. I don't want to sever ties, but something has to change. He can't keep beating me down anymore.

Today, Lee, Atrus, and I are going to Olbrich's model train show. I hope he likes it. He's fascinated with cars (Atrus is) so hopefully this will introduce him to other modes of transporation.

Meanwhile, I wish you well in this in-between land of Christmas and New Years.

fin.

Random Bits of News

Hello possums, as Leonie says so sweetly.

Let me break things down for you:

~ I might be catching a cold. So far, in the last two months, I've had Strep throat TWICE and a bout of the 24-hour stomach flu. And today I feel like I'm coming down with a cold. What the hell?

~ Tonight is an experiment. Operation Do Your Own Thing. Lee plays his xBox Saturday nights with his best friend - online. They never see or talk, except during this time. This is Lee's only social time besides me. I want to give it to him. But I had a hard time doing that. I secretly hated the xBox and all video games and wanted him all to myself. Then I wised up a bit. So now I'm upstairs on his laptop and because he's smart, we have wireless internet so I can just pop the laptop open and go. So I have the internet to play with while he's playing. I also have my notebook to write new things because I've had a host of maladies lately to write about.

~ In a surprise move, Lee will have his two daughters on Tuesday night for Christmas. This is the first time I'll be meeting them. I'm nervous up to my eyeballs yet I can't wait. We went stocking-stuffer shopping for them (all 3) and had a blast doing that. I've never shopped as a "mother figure" before for children. It felt wonderful.

~ Lee's 2 yr old, Atrus, is really taking a liking to me. He let me pick him up a number of times and he gave me lots of hugs. It's so precious, the act of falling in love. Sure, romantic love, but also the act of falling in love between a parental figure and a child. He'll know me the rest of his life. I'll love him the rest of his life. And the girls.

~Speaking of parenting, my father is doing such a poor job I wish he'd just stop. I momentarily thought of severing all ties last night after a particularly sour fight we had over the phone. But I can't sever ties. I had a parent die. I lost her unwittingly. I can't turn my back on my other parent voluntarily. But boy, our relationship will sure change.

He treats me like a CHILD and denies it later. He calls me a child, thinks I don't think of others. He therefore knows NOTHING of who I am. Our relationship will thus be one of "how's the weather?" "What movie did you see?" This saddens me a great deal, because after Mom died, Dad and I grew closer, but in the past year and a half, he's turned obsessed with the little details of my life and of criticizing every step I make. Checking up on me like I'm some toddler in a china shop.

~In bettter news, I can't wait until January 15th because then I start Leonie's e-course on creativity. I am frightened, too, you see. I am a writer. I don't think of myself as a painter, sketcher, whatever. Simply a poet and writer (why must we separate the two? Isn't a poet a writer and can't a writer be a poet?). But my inner wild child is calling. She's wanting to talk to me with different and new mediums. Paints. Clay. Pen. Whatever. I trust Leonie's vision, wisdom, and ability to reach that part of me - or rather to help me reach that part of myself. She is one of the most beautiful creatures on this earth I have had the pleasure of getting to know. I shall trust her and trust her process. And trust mys-elf as well. I'm SO excited. Of course, I don't have to wait until Jan. 15th to start my inner discoveries and artsy-doings. We'll just see where I go.

~ In related news, Happy Birthday Andrew for Monday, the 22nd!!!! I may do some art with him.

~ I'll be spending Christmas here in Madison, not Chicago like I thought. Lee unexpectedly got Atrus for Christmas Eve and I thought hard about it. I'd miss my Chicago family, but Lee and his children are my new family. I wanted to spend it with him and Atrus. So I'm waiting for my aunt to call back and for us to talk. I hope she isn't too upset.

~ I'm listening to "Prince of Darkness" by The Indigo Girls -- I think of Annie from high school. Anne, I miss you, if you're reading this. I'm thinking of you right now. ***squeezing eyes really tight***

~ Thank goodness for space heaters. That's the only way I can be up here. It's usually freezing upstairs, but because I have our quiet little space heater on, I'm toasty.

Well, that's about it from the peanut gallery. I hope you aren't buried beneath snow like I was a few days ago!

Peace,

fin.

Loss

Today was my last day of working at American Family. My favorite job to date. The job I could have stayed at had they not had such bad financial problems and had to lay me off, along with 164 contractors. This was the first job where I didn't spazz out. I didn't hide in the bathroom, crying. I didn't always look forward to going, but that's normal. I loved the people, I loved the challenge. And today I had to say goodbye and let it go.

That loss triggered feelings regarding Mom and the loss of her. Which triggered feelings of loss about another topic I'm not ready to disclose yet. But it's about grieving and accepting and being grateful for what you have.

I'm going to file for unemployment, apply to every job I can find, and work on being gentle with myself. I'm going to envision I'm in a boat going down a river very slowly.... calmly... I'm going to let the tide take me wherever I'm meant to go.

Obviously, there's something different planned for me, work-wise.

Family is starting to wiggle its way into my life. Lee has his son over on Wednesdays and overnight on Fridays. I like spending time with them. Atrus, the 2 year old, is getting used to me and has moments of what could be seen down the line as love. Other times he just glares at me. Which I'm fine with.

I'll be meeting his other two kids, the girls, at a later time.

I'm realizing I'm going to be a step-mother to them. I pray and pray that they like me and I like them. Well, I already love them, just from hearing about them. I hope I can be a positive and loving influence in their lives. There's a bittersweet part, though, and that's what I'm not ready to share yet.

I'm taking a hiatus from Inside Out Workshops, too. I just don't feel the drive anymore. I'm not worried that I'm going to give it up; I know I won't. I just need some inspiration. I know it will come. I just have to soak up life and look for miracles around every corner.

One of those miracles is that I signed up for Leonie's e-course on art and creativity. I'm nervous because we'll be doing other things than writing, like painting and drawing. She's using all mediums. I'm so afraid of art, it's silly. I'm a writer, I say. I don't paint. But I feel my very soul call out for color and symbolism. My hands want to be free to speak in another language. So that e-course starts January 15th. I'm going to watch how she facilitates her workshop and take notes for my workshop.

I hope you all are having special holiday moments. Watch "A Christmas Story." Turn on old 50s Christmas songs. String popcorn and cranberries on your tree. Kiss your sweetie under the mistletoe.

I wish everyone job security, financial security and self security in these uncertain times.

fin.

A Thanksgiving Toast

Here is the toast I wrote for Thanksgiving dinner. I had never before said the "prayer" or the toast. I was very nervous.
*****************************************************
It's 5:00am and I was lying in bed thinking about all the different families in all the different houses in all the different states in the United States of America who would be coming together today. And I was so excited I couldn't sleep. That and the fact that I kept coughing myself awake. I've been agonizing over this Thanksgiving toast for weeks and I felt I ought to come downstairs and think it out. I won't make it too long, I won't make it too cheesy; like Goldilocks finding the perfect bowl of porridge, it'll hopefully be just right.

Two Thanksgivings ago, when my mother and uncle died, I woudln't have thought I'd be here today. I wouldn't have thought that I would live in this beautiful house with this beautiful man sharing my first hosted Thanksgiving where my father would drive all the way up from Chicago and where I would know you three wonderful people. I just couldn't have thought something like this up.

But losing the very thing most dear to me gave way to meeting the one person who could give me hope. [here's where I started getting choked up] And he taught me to fight. He taught me, "enough." And, together, we set upon this course of healing and moving forward with our lives.

My mother was the queen of gratitude. She taught it to me when I didn't want to learn it. And it was only after she passed away that I truly learned what gratitude meant. It meant seeing God in the sunshine and in the scary nights when you feel alone. It meant not giving up when you felt like the world was handing you a big ball of crap. It meant seeing through the ball of crap and finding bits of diamonds in it. Holding on, holding on for dear life, holding on to the knowledge that it will get better; God will provide.

So I'd like to toast to the balls of crap. For teaching us to hold on, that it will get better. I'd like to toast to love - new and old. I'd like to toast to family - seen and unseen. And I'd like to toast to gratitude - what I think Thanksgiving is all about - seeing the diamonds in the rough patches.

I'd like us to go around the table and name at least two things we are thankful for, in whatever way gratitude means to you.

Thank you for coming to Lee and my home, thank you for being our family.
********************************************

Thanksgiving was wonderful. My first hosted Thanksgiving couldn't have gone any better if I had hoped for more. Lee cooked equisite food, Cody, Kate, Sandy, and my Dad were great guests. And Callie didn't stay hidden the whole time.

That Saturday, my family, the Gordons, came up to visit from Chicago. They met Lee and promptly loved him (how could you not?) and Lauren and Alexandria even came by. We all went to Dennys before Lee went to work and then came back and took a lot of pictures.

Here are some highlights from the four days:























My aunt should have some more pictures of that side of the family. I'll try and get those.

I wish you had an equally wonderful Thanksgiving. It's harvest time. What are you getting ready for?

fin.

Say What?

I said, "sjfjdjjkldflkjdw."

I'm not being understood that well the past 2 days.

I have Strep throat. Yuck. Yesterday I couldn't even move. I've never felt that incapacitated in my life.

Thanks for modern (or not so modern) medicine, I'm taking the wonder drug, Penicillin, and on day 2 I'm already feeling better.

But my head goes WHOO WHOO WHOOO when I stand up or walk or sit down. And my throat goes craaaaaaaccccckkkkkkk when I swallow.

So I feel pretty miserable.

BUT

(the sun'll come out ... tomorrow...)

I have a poetry reading this Thursday as part of the Glass Bookcase Reading Series, otherwise known as UW MFA's and Fellows Who Have Been Published Giving a Reading. It's pretty cool. I'm excited NOW... I was grief stricken when I found out I had Strep and began to feel so poorly because I could not imagine feeling well ever again. O the drama!

But based on the way I feel today, Thursday should be no problem. Just a sore throat, most likely.

So come one, come all!

Thursday, November 20
7:00 (I read first - there's two of us)
UW-Madison
Helen C. White Hall
600 N. Park Street
(in the corner next to Memorial Union along the lake)
in room 6195.

I'm excited because 1. I get 25 minutes! and 2. it's my first paid gig!!

In other news, Saturday I have an Inside Out Writing Workshop (see link on sidebar) and I invite all of you to come to Avol's Bookstore at 2-430 for not only valuable ways to dig deep down inside, but fun ways to do so, too! I'm always changing my plans for the class, so come and see what I have cooked up this time.

Well, the couch is calling. Send me healing energies, please.

Oh, speaking of energies,

my Grandma Vahlberg died last Friday. She was my aunt's mother, a dear dear woman whom I loved very much. She will be missed. Anyone who prays, if you wouldn't mind keeping her in your prayers, I'd greatly appreciate it. And her daughter, Vivian, who was as close to her mom as I was to mine.

Grab hold of the ones you love,

fin.

Days of Dealing

So here I am. I'm using Lee's computer because mine crashed. Lee is playing "Rainbow Six" online with his best friend who lives in Minnesota.

"Let me take the hit."

"Yep, guy up above us."

"Watch the flanks."

All of this eludes me. Video games in general. Lee is especially interested in war tactics and games that are about that. Last night we watched "Saving Private Ryan" in honor of Veteran's Day. He said he watches this movie every year to mark the occasion. It was an intense movie. Not my cup of tea, but an important movie, nonetheless.

We went grocery shopping for Thanksgiving today. Woodman's brought out the worst in both of us. We were grumpy, something happened that involved biting his arm and accidentally hurting him and so he was the wounded puppy and I was the apologetic beetle and then we stopped talking all together and I when I did talk, I said a particularly nasty thing and in the car, I asked, "can we be nice to each other now?"

Lee explained to me why what I said bothered him so much and I understood and apologized. We hugged. All is well now. Just another par for the course, learning about each other.

My sprained ankle from last Sunday is particularly bad. I have dark purple-black spots along the rim of my foot, on my ankle and on my toes. How my toes are bruised I have no idea. It's constantly hurting and though I ought to see a doctor, what is she going to say? I've sprained it. Ice and elevate. But part of me thinks there may be more to the story.

I'm sending "Motherlung" to Salmon Poetry in Ireland. I know the publisher (it's an organization of 3 amazing people) and it would be SO lovely if they were to publish it.

Two days ago was the anniversary... Mom's death... I handled it surprisingly well. I had a wondrous session with Bonnie and got a lot out. I felt lighter afteward and grateful to have my memories. I took Lee out for Mexican food and ice cream and I celebrated her life. For the first time, I didn't let the day wear me down.

Work is getting better, but we are getting a new application to learn and use - which affects every aspect of my job. It's very difficult, but all of us will be clueless - so it's ok.

Pick up the November issue of Madison Magazine and turn to page 22 to see an article about yours truly. Shoot me a comment if you want me to send you a magazine. I'm also hoping to scan the page in and post it on the blog, but that might be a while, yet.

November 20th, I am reading at the Helen C. White English Building on UW campus. It's a woman from Milwaukee and myself reading. I'll be reading from my newly published, "We Nod Our Dark Heads" and some new pieces.

November 22th, I am doing an Inside Out Writing Workshop (see link on sidebar for web blog) at Avol's Books. I encourage the curious to come check it out. It's going to be glamorously wonderful.

Well, that's all I have, folks. Start putting in your storm windows and taking out the extra blankets. Make the tea and cuddle with the cat. I know I will.

fin.

Back to Nov 23, 2007

Lee is asleep upstairs. It is 7:42pm. This is how it is now that he works first shift. Nights are my time now. I'm going to use them to write, to read, to connect with my self.

I just re-read November 2007's blog entries. Quite a different life. But a blessed life, indeed. I was with Jake, thinking about where to move to go to school (I ended up staying in Madison, obviously, and thank goodness, too) and I was, of course, mourning my mother. I read, in particular, November 23rd's entry. I read with heightened interest how on Thanksgiving I had a headache because I am battling huge sinus headaches now. I was told by a reliable source that these headaches are emotional and related to my grief.

And re-reading my Jake days..... touched a part of my heart I keep hidden just to keep from hurting. Oh yes, I love my Lee. We are doing splendidly. But don't you always still have a space for your past true loves? I believe we can have more than one soul mate in one lifetime. Everyone teaches you something about yourself and the world around you. I learned so much from Jake, himself, from his predicament, from our love, and from our break-up. I know he reads this blog at times... and I just want to say that I will always love him.

Just as I will always love Alex. It stops there, though. My relationships between and before weren't the true love kind. The kindred kind. Stephen was special, but we weren't destined. Ryan was good for a while, but we didn't fit. Alex, Jake, and Lee - those were/are my great loves.

I have a great friendship with Alex.... Jake and I have an unsteady relationship, I believe. We're still learning how to be friends and that's perfectly okay. I have patience and I want the very best for him.

So I was reading the days leading up to the 1 year anniversary. I was as messed up as I am now. Maybe more-so this year because I have a job to deal with...

And this Thanksgiving is the first one that *I* will be hosting. Well, Lee and me. Dad is coming... but that's the only person from "my side." Lee's mother is coming as is his half-brother and his girlfriend. We're hoping Lauren and her family are coming, but I'm not believing that until I see it. I would love it, though. I wish Mom could have been at the first Thanksgiving I helped host...

I've been getting back into my spiritual and creative mind. Bonnie, my grief counselor, is very New Agey - in the best ways possible - and encouraged me to keep a quartz in my pocket at work - to ground me. Last week I laid down in the sick room and napped and meditated with my clear crystal quartz on my chest. I felt calmed.

I'm going to work on having more workshops, I'm going to mail out "Motherlung" more as well as other submissions, I am loving finding people on Facebook....

so that's me. I'm going to go type my latest batch of poems into my computer file.

I wish you shooting stars and crunching leaves.

fin.

Have I Met the Circle (my Chicago trip)

I've been sitting here for seven minutes staring at the screen wondering what to write about my trip to Chicago this weekend.

Right now, the wind whips through the trees, my fingers are cold... the house is cold... my love is asleep upstairs (he is starting his new early morning shift) and now I have time to myself... to gestate... to reflect...

I was nervous about this trip. About the traveling (would I see everybody on time? not get lost?), about what I would say, about what they would say...

I had had a pretty hard couple of weeks and I didn't want to drag that with me like old rotting cans clanging to my back bumper.

It didn't rain much, but there was spectacular lightning on the way to Nicolau's and Carrie's house. I went to Triton College with Nicolau back in 1998 and we hadn't seen each other in close to ten years! We had bonded over a shared love of music and were both in a Broadway choir along with the third person in our trio of friendship, Karen Williams (Oh Karen, where are you??). I nervously approached Nicolau's door and we screamed when we opened it and fell into a big hug. He and his wife, Carrie, had a beautiful house. Carrie, also a musician, was at a show. Nicolau had cooked a wonderful dinner so we set to drinks (and got a little tipsy) then dinner, all the while talking and catching up. It was such a relaxing time. I knew the next day would hold a lot of stressful traveling and fitting-people-in, so I relished the relaxing ambiance of my time with Nicolau.

Saturday morning came fast and I headed out the door and into "Colette," my trust Toyota Corolla, who was enjoying this trip as much as me. I drove to Niles' Omega Restaurant to meet J.R. Rose, a good friend from high school. He is a drama teacher at a suburban high school and just got back from England where they staged a play he directed. We didn't have much time, but we managed to get all the details in and a big hug (he gives the best bear hugs) in an hour.

Then I was off to Logan Square to meet up with first boyfriend, Matt Fontaine. Matt hadn't seen me since I was maybe seventeen (we went out for a few months when I was sixteen, sweet sixteen) so this would be interesting. I got lost trying to get to Lulu's Cafe, but finally found it among the loops of Logan Square. We decided to go to another nearby restaurant as Lulu's was very busy. I'll never forget seeing him first, standing on the corner, looking at his watch as he waited for me. He looked older, of course, seemed to have darker hair, but still looked like Matt, sans the flannel and long hair. :)

So we sat and he had a sandwich while I was happy with a lemonade after that big omlette at the Omega. He told me of his time at the Runaway Switchboard for four years - wow! I always knew he cared for troubled kids. We were both somewhat troubled in our youth. He's in a transitional period now, aren't we all? And it was relieving to find someone else flailing their arms a little in life -- but I have no doubt he will find his way, as I am finding mine. There's one thing I know - I don't have ordinary friends, I have extraordinary friends. They make things happen.

Matt kept saying how good I seemed. I knew what he meant: in relation to how I used to be back when. I was glad he could see the maturity and difference. I was quite a depressive beast in high school. Ok, maybe that's being a little harsh. But I had a lot of difficulties.

We reminisced about the old days and talked of people we knew. Before I knew it, it was time for me to go and meet my high school theatre director, John Muszynski, in Park Ridge.

So I hopped in "Colette" and, again, we got lost in the weird Logan Square neighborhood (yet hip!) but made it to Park Ridge ahead of schedule, in fact. I called Mr. Muszynski (hereafter called John because that is what I am supposed to call him now) and we coordinated the place to meet: the Pickwick Restaurant in uptown Park Ridge. I waited with baited breath in the booth as the waitress tirelessly asked me if I was sure I didn't want something to drink while I waited.

And then, John walked in. I was so excited. And weirded out. You see, this man has made appearances in practically every dream I have had for the past thirteen years. I dream of theatre as many times as I brush my teeth; it's obsurd. I think my subconscious is upset with me for giving up theatre... or something like that.

John looked dapper in his suit since he was going to Maine South to see "Mother Hicks" -- a play I was in my junior year. I thought it would be too strange to actually go to the production, and my father wanted to see me anyway...

John and I talked of people we knew, about my workshops; I gave him a copy of my book. I had this nagging feeling like I had let him down in not pursuing theatre like Jenny Beacraft, Joe Pindelski, Brad Haak, Kevin Byrne, J.R., and others. But while we were talking, I realized something...

I wasn't a failure.

Oh my god. All these walls came crashing down - in a good way. I was not a failure.

I experienced a flashback to 1997 - Beloit College - drama class - breaking character in front of the camera - flying in into hysterics because I was a hysterical and troubled 19 year old back then - and then never, ever, stepping my foot back on the stage. I relived the years of shame and anger I felt at myself. Listening as peers of mine pursued theatre and I didn't.

But what I realized at the table with John was... I had pursued a sort of theatre. MY WRITING. I read at open mic's, was often invited to readings. I had been on the radio, on TV, and had a book out!! I was a success.

And even moreso, I wasn't a success merely because of these accolades... I was a success because I was ME. I had survived and sat in front of this mentor of mine and I was here and happy!

Wow, I had lost about forty pounds during that conversation, alone. And John had no idea, haha.

It was sad to see him go; I wish I could have had hours more to pick his brain... but I shall be in Chicago again.

There's a chance I may become involved with this organization: UniVerse of Poetry thanks to Nicolau and Carrie.

And I really do want to return to Maine South and see a show. Perhaps I can now, emotionally speaking. Perhaps I won't have horrible theatre nightmares anymore. Has the circle been completed?

I thank everyone who I met with and wish to tell everyone I couldn't meet up with: Aimee, Kate, Megan... that I'll see you soon!

blessings,

fin.

My poetry interview

I am in Chicago, visiting my dear long-lost friend, Nicolau Santos and he is a techie and figured out how to download my video onto my blog. So here you go, the infamous interview that aired last month for National Alzheimer's Month. I hope you enjoy it.
I am having a spectacular time in Chicago so far. Nicolau's is my first stop in ye olde Chicago tour of seeing olde friends. I admit, I'm a little tipsy but I did spell olde right - the old English way. ;) Nicolau cooked a magnificent meal while we caught up on each other's busy lives. The highlight of the meal was the drink - champagne with "Something-Royale"... this sweet raspberry liquor with lime in it. Mmmm. I haven't had a drink in ages. Tomorrow I might remember why.

I met Nicolau at Triton College in 1998 when he and I were in a Broadway choir. He has the voice of an angel - I encourage you to visit his blog that is linked from his name.

Tomorrow I am going to visit J.R. Rose, then Matt Fontaine, then my dear theatre director, Mr. John Muszynski and then go to my father's house for dinner. (Yeah! Free dinner!)

Well, my head is swimming with happiness so I'm going to let you go. Thanks for checking up and I plan on coming back to Chicago so if you're here and I'm here - let's make a date!

fin.

Riding the Dark Horse

This weekend was splendid for a while. Lee and I spent much-needed wonderful time together. We had a late-night dinner at Perkins Friday night (and bought a pie since I had a coupon), Saturday, while he worked the day shift, I went to my favorite cafe - The Washington Hotel Coffeehouse, otherwise dubbed The Yarn Cafe - and I had a huge writing session which churned out 7 poems, much to my delight. It felt so good. Saturday night, Lee and I saw "Eagle Eye" in the theater and although I had a little health scare (I'm ok) during the movie, I enjoyed it very much.

Today, we slept in and had a late breakfast. Then Lee went to work and I went back to the cafe and wrote some more.

Something like a black scrim slipped over me while I was sitting in the canvas rocking chair at the cafe, however. I began writing only self-indulgent, self-pitying writing, writing that made me sick of myself, sick with myself. I decided to stop and I came home and immediately blackness fell upon me.

You should know that I started seeing a grief therapist named Bonnie (have I already told you this? I think I have) and she warned me that I'll have times of grief and fear and anxiety that pop up now and again, mostly when I'm alone with my thoughts.

I turned on the TV, desperate to get lost in a show, but found nothing. I made some phone calls, wrote some emails, solidifying plans to go back to Chicago next weekend and see old friends. But even that I couldn't seem to look forward to.

Then it hit me. PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. To learn more about it, go here. I believe I've talked a little about it on here before. It's PMS on crack. I realized it's a week before my period and I realized I must be having a PMDD "attack."

Everything felt like an avalanche falling down on me, when, in reality, I don't have that many things hovering above me, ready to crash on my life.

The main thing is the grief over my mother. I live with that every day.

But as the evening went on, the worse I felt. I felt like I was spiralling out of control. I cried in bed for a while. I laid with Callie and pet her. I flipped channels.

Finally, I made chamomile tea for myself and it was that simple act of self-care that lifted me out of the bottom-level pit. I've since drunk the tea and my racing heartbeat has calmed down, some.

It's hard to remember you have control over yourself in times like these, but you do. I'm confused as to how that correlates with one's own messed-up biochemistry, but oh well.

I had a horrible nightmare this morning that woke me up screaming and sobbing. I won't recount it here for several reasons, but mostly because to the average person who doesn't know me inside and out, it won't seem like that bad of a dream. But it had to do with my theatre background in high school, my recurring dream of being asked to return to the theatre and a very specific person in my life who had a huge impact on me, even a decade later.

The dream hinted that maybe I shouldn't go back to Chicago next weekend, but specifically not to go back to Maine South High School to see "Mother Hicks," a play that I took part in my junior year. So I'm opting to visit with my father instead. I'll miss seeing people like Mr. Muszynski, the theatre director, but I just don't think my psyche can handle it. Lee said the dream could have been a warning OR a way to put closure on my life in theatre. I don't know what to do.

After writing Lee some pretty dire emails tonight, I wrote him one last email that spoke of my hope. That I had made tea for myself and was being proactive in my self-preservation. I wrote that I would "count my gratefuls" (as Mom used to say) and remember how loved I am by so many, most of all him and that I was so grateful that he was willing to go down this road with me.

I'm listening to Eva Cassidy sing "I Know You By Heart" right now and there's this one lyric that sends me into tears every time. I just heard it. I closed my eyes and rode it through. Here it is:

You left in Autumn.
The leaves were turning
I walked down roads of orange and gold.
I saw your sweet smile
I heard your laughter
You're still here beside me every day.
Cause I know you by heart.

That's how I feel about my mom. Oh, here I go again... the tears...

ride through it...

ride...

fin.

Flail and Wail

I'm listening to a baby flail and wail right now. I'm over at Lauren's and she's putting Alexandria, now almost 2 years old, down to bed. Whenever I hear a baby really let it all out, a little piece of me feels jealous because I want to cry that way, too. I want my mother to scoop me up and make it all better.

Days have been hard since Autumn hit Madison. I am now seeing a grief counselor named Bonnie. She said I have "anticapatory grief" with Mom's 2-year anniversary coming this November 6th.

I'm having problems at work focusing, at doing things right, at keeping my emotions in check. All of this is fear and behind fear is sadness and anger. I honestly think missing my mother has a lot to do with this hole I have sunken into. I'm hoping my work with Bonnie, which I've just begun, will be the first step to a truly healing phase.

I was doing really well. Crying once in a while... it went from every night to a few times a month. Then once a month...but then Autumn hit like a truck and seeing the colors change and smelling the leaves and pulling out the sweaters really affected me.

Poor Alexandria is still sobbing. Wracking sobs that make mothers not know what the problem is. I feel bad for Lauren. She is such a great mother.

It hurts to hear her cry like this because I can hear myself cry like this inside my head.

If only a warm bottle of milk solved everything for me and finally put me to sleep without the threat of nightmares.

fin.

Lost

A friend couldn't come up today from Chicago to visit me and I just fell apart. She had a very legit reason not to come and I don't harbor anger at her at all...but I was looking forward to it for so long, what with Lee working 12 hours today.

But I cried and slept until 2:00, headachy from no caffeine, slipping in and out of weird dreams. I'm going to go to a cafe and write, if I can harness that at all.

I just feel very alone and most of all I miss my mother. Autumn drags her memory over my heart like hot coals for she died in November, when the trees are losing their color.

I feel lost in a world where I have no mother. I dream of her constantly, I fight with my dad constantly. I grow up and then I grow down. And then I turn around so fast I get dizzy and fall into bed for another hundred years or at least until the warrior in me tells me to get up and fight.
fin.

Twisty-Turny

I'm driving a white Nissan Sentra as a rental car. My beloved cheesy bumper stickered black Honda Civic was called a "loss" by the auto body place.

You betcha it's a loss, buddy. My mom gave me that car. When I was 19 and at Beloit College, Mom decided she'd go without a car (or use John's) and give it to me way up in Wisconsin so I could come home on weekends. I've driven a lot with that car. I've driven from Madison to Chicago, from Madison to Tennessee (geez, Alex, was it ten hours?) every other month for a yer and a half, but two weeks ago, almost, some teary 19 year old who never got in an accident before was driving her parent's car and kaboomed into me so fast her airbag deployed.

Now my baby is a loss.

And I'm driving a stark white car whose breaks are so touchy you'd think they had a case of PMS.

John is going with me to get a new car this weekend. For real. He's the best person I can think of to go car-shopping with. Let's just say he can get in your face a bit.

In other news, I'm having really weird dreams lately. One morning I could have sworn I was out of my body.

In other news, a friend has gravely disappointed me while I have disappointed a different friend. The cycle of life.

In other news, I'm giving a poetry reading at UW-Madison in November as part of the Glass Bookcase Reading Series. I'm even getting paid! My first paying gig! Woo hoo!

Lee and I are settling into our beautiful home very well, although we are rarely home at the same time. I have to stay up late just to see him. I hate our schedules. He stayed home sick last Sunday and it was the best day we had in a long time.

I've recently joined Facebook and because I heard there was this group called "I Was a Maine South Thespian" I joined and so far have almost peed in my pants at how many theatre alumni I've found.

Well, I should go into the scary basement and get my laundry out of the dryer.... yes, Lee and I are afraid of our basement, ok? It's dark and spider webby and it has this... this toilet in the middle of the room. No walls or door. Just a toilet. And it has this shed-like thing that we are NOT going to open because we're both chickens and have seen too many stupid horror flicks.

I wish you all the best life has to offer. Time goes by so fast, doesn't it?

fin.

Life 101

I really wish that, in high school, they would have made me take Home Economics. I wish I could cook with ease these days. Better yet, I wish they had a Life 101 class where they taught everyone how to change a tire, how to mend a hole in clothes, how to treat the flu, and especially, what to do in case of a car accident.

I got in a car accident yesterday. I was driving to Barnes and Noble by the Firestone stop sign in West Towne Mall and got rear-ended by a young girl going about 20-25mph. I got out of the car and was livid.

"What the hell??!!" I screamed at her. She was crying and sobbing. I looked at my car: quite dented, the bumper about to fall off.

I felt my anger which had risen to peak level (and I don't usually get angry) lessen as I saw her bleary eyes and obviously panic-stricken face. I said, "let's pull into the Firestone parking lot."

So we did. She was carrying on how this was her parent's car, she was a student in Eau Claire who was going home tomorrow. I got her name, number, license plate number.... but both of us were novices at accident procedure. She had never been in one and I had never been the victim of one. I've been in few accidents, but the other person had always taken the initiative and followed procedures.

I calmed her down, said these things happened. She felt horrible, said it was all her fault. She wasn't looking; she was watching a car about to turn in front of her and just plowed into me.

My neck and head and back started to hurt. I was in a daze. I told her to go. I had all my information. So she left.

I then realized I left my keys in the ignition and the doors were locked. Great. I went into Firestone and asked to use their phone. They said they couldn't open my door due to liability but I could use their phone for whatever I needed.

I called Lee. He was busy at work, but asked what I had done. When I told him, he advised me to call the police

(See? This is where Life 101 would have come in handy. When in an accident, call the police.)

and 911 to take me to the ER. I didn't hurt that badly, but if I did result in injuries later, it wouldn't be covered. I began to cry as I thought of having to go to the hospital with nobody by my side.

He couldn't leave work right then and I understood. You can't really leave a live newscast. If I was hurt badly, he would have left, but I understood. So I called 911, crying. I began to feel worse. I sat on the couch and saw a fire engine coming. I looked sheepishly at the Firestone guy and said, "that's for me."

I met the guys outside. They put a neck brace on me and I fell back into their arms as they put me on one of those boards. They wanted to take all precautions because I was now complaining of neck and back pain. I cried and cried.

(Life 101: if your primary caregiver dies, for the rest of your life, you are going to want them back in times of trauma)

They put me into the firetruck. The fireman was very nice and did everything he could to make me more comfortable.

"What's the worst part?" he asked.

I misunderstood what he meant. "That my mom isn't here with me," I said. "She died."

He was silent. Then it hit me. Oh. He meant physically.

"Oh, sorry. I guess my neck."

The ride to Meriter Hospital was long. All I could do was stare up at the lights.

It was surreal as they wheeled me through the ER; all I could see were the overhead lights and hear people around me. They brought me into a room and 1-2-3-put me on a bed from the board. The nurse talked with me, a policeman came and talked to me about the accident. I had my little notebook with me so I gave him her information. He left me with a case number to give to my insurance company.

(Life 101: when you are a victim of an accident, most of the time insurance agencies will take care of you).

I was still freaking out about money. And my car. There was so much wrong with my car, how would I fix it?

(Life 101: if the damage costs more than the car is worth, they will write you a check and you can get a new car). -- Lee told me that one. He took Life 101 by audit and knows a lot. I'm very grateful to him.

I was in that room for a while, just waiting. Then a nurse took me to the X-ray room and took some x-rays. Then brought me back. Everyone was very nice. I was a good complacent patient.

The doctor came in some time later and said there was no structural damage to my spine... I'd just be very sore the next couple of days. He wrote me a prescription for two muscle relaxers. I wondered how I'd pay for those, too.

He left, a nurse came in and discharged me. Lee couldn't get me until 6:45, an hour later, so the nurse gave me a voucher for a cab. I thought that was very generous.

That night, Lee came home for his hour dinner break and found me lying in bed on my back, staring at the ceiling.

Nothing particularly frightening happened that day, but I was just in shock. I was very quiet and scared. He took us to Taco Bell for a cheapie dinner and then brought me to get my car. I'm lucky it's still drivable. But I don't feel confident in its stability while driving.

I was still quiet and somber over dinner. I noticed Lee looking at me and he smiled.

"What?" I asked him.

"Even though you're all quiet and withdrawn, you still look so cute."

I laughed. The first smile since the accident. Bless his heart, I thought. That made me feel so good.

I expected to be in immense pain today, the day after, but I'm really not in that much pain. I'm grateful for that.

I also feel overwhelmed at all the calling around I now have to do. Tomorrow I have to go to the place that unlocked my car and pay them. I have to call my insurance company and tell them what happened and get my car settled. Where will I get it looked at? I might need a rental car in the meantime, I don't know.

(I've never driven a rental car).

Lee says I ought to get a lawyer because there were injuries involved. I don't know.

I'm just overwhelmed.

In other news, we move this Wednesday to our supa-cool art deco house. We have Lee's brother, brother's girlfriend and friend helping us move. I'm excited to be in that house. I'm so excited to make it our home.

In still other news, I was interviewed by Channel3/14's Teri Barr for my book on Alzheimer's. It aired on September 11th and will air sometime this week on Channel 3 at 10:00. I'll let you know when.

Becky can get the interview and put it on my blog, so you'll see that in upcoming weeks.

What do you wish you could have learned in Life 101?

blessings to you, and do drive safely.

fin.

Thoughts on Mom and loss....and love.

(written this morning at the Washington Hotel Coffee House, affectionately called the Yarn Cafe)

I admit it. I still miss her. But that is not a secret. It's understandable and real. She won't be at my wedding, at my child's birth (when I am with child, that is). I scold my tearducts; this is not new news. These facts ran through my head at lightning speed when first I was told to "Be strong, I have something to tell you." But I'm surrounded by mothers. One brings her two daughters into the Yarn Cafe and knits yarn together to form a beautiful mosaic while her two young ones read books and munch on potato chips. I wonder if they know how lucky they are. Last night's movie had a mother readying her daughter for her wedding. Another punch in the gut. I walk around bruised, I thought I'd turn extinct, but I look around and pray she still sees me. Maybe I can stitch her face into this blanket.
************************************

(Mama - baby love, courtesy of Lauren and Alexandria)
**************************************

Another Daughter's Story

In a parallel universe, Mom is
alive and I am ten.
We are living our lives again.
I pray to this child: child, love
your mother more than I did in my reality.
She is my puppet and I make her wander
in the kitchen when Mom cooks and
I have her ask to help. Mom smiles
and teaches her about ounces and dashes.
The child sees Mother as Teacher and
forever looks at her with awestruck eyes.
Yes, I will learn from you.
Mom teaches her to cook, knit, read past
her age. They take walks at night, the
walks I declined when I was fifteen
and hating her boyfriend. But I make
the child love everybody so Mom doesn't
feel stuck in the middle. The child grows up
self-sufficient, noisy opposite of how
I grew up, and when college arrives
like a long-distance aunt off a boat,
the child goes away to Beloit and thrives.
Mom visits once a month; they talk
on the phone, they love each other
with correct boundaries.
This universe I can control, can
live again.

LMB 2008
**************************************
(from Motherlung)

Dear Mom I hope you don't mind
me calling other mothers, looking
for other arms, other tornado
refuges, other red painted finger-
nails, other whispers to sleep, other
beds to rest in, cheeks to kiss, hands
to examine, dear Mom I hope you
don't mind me asking you to stop
the nightmares, please walk beside
me, within me, I hope you don't
mind me taking a different step
and then a different one and Mom,
can you see me dancing?

LMB 2008
*********************************

And readers, World, friends, I hope you don't mind me continuing to write about Sheila Rae, the best mother I know and knew. Was lucky enough to have. It's almost 2 years since she passed. My dear friend, Ron's, mother just passed and my heart aches for him. But he has different challenges that I didn't have to face. If you are reading this and your mother or father has passed on, know that you belong to an elite club that is not so elite. There are many of us.

Hopefully, when Motherlung is published, you will read it. And your long-lost parent will come and sit beside you as you read it. And he/she will stroke your hair and read it with you. And you will feel comforted, and you will feel redeemed.

fin.

More from Improv Everywhere!

I just love these people. Go on youtube and look them up!

Here's one that made me feel extra good!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Nbkbss7i5s&watch_response

Batter up!

fin.

Can We Get a Napkin Please?

There's this group called "Improv Everywhere"...or maybe it's a movement. But I love it! Watch this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkYZ6rbPU2M&NR=1

God I miss musical theatre!

fin.

It's Been a While....

So it's been about a month since I last wrote and I can only report good things for the most part. Lee and I house-hunted and found a BEAUTIFUL one that we are going to move into on Sept. 17th.

Here is a pic:


Doesn't it look like...a home? Like... adults would live there?

EEeeep!

I am so excited I can hardly stand it. I can't wait to start my life with Lee there. It's all-wood inside, has a fireplace, an upstairs windowseat, a huge dining room and living room and master bedroom... a washer/dryer... cute cabinets for cans...a huge pantry... so much charm!

Work-wise, I still love my new job. I've gotten quite good at it, learning lots of new things. They challenge me and I'm glad I have risen to the challenge.

Not so with my bookstore job that I kept for Saturdays. I just didn't feel challenged there. At my real job, I feel valued and appreciated. Powerful.

When I walked into the bookstore, I felt powerless and panic-stricken. I did not want to be there.

So I decided that it was doing more harm than good.

At my new job, I'm the new "me." But at the bookstore, I would revert back to the "old" me and I didn't want to do that. So I gave up the extra money and quit today. I'll always look back fondly at the bookstore and its employees. And I will continue to shop there.

But it was my time to go.

I'm missing Mom a lot lately. I'm PMS-ing and I keep having bad dreams about her. Also, in relation to dreams, I keep dreaming about one ex-boyfriend from high school in general. It pulls on my heart. And someone else from 2000 that also pulls on my heart.

But then I look in front of me and there is Lee, wonderful Lee, who I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Here is a sticky sweet picture that we took while at the Arboretum last May.



So except for some mother-missings, I can't really complain about my life. And it feels awfully good to say that.

On with the show!

fin.

When the "Rocky" theme came on, I just knew...

When I was driving to my first day of my new job this morning, and the "Rocky" theme song played, I just knew... it'd be a good day. and, my friends, it was AWESOME. I am SO FREAKING EXCITED! I think.... no, i believe...

gone are the days of feeling alone at work
gone are the days of running to the bathroom to cry
gone are the days of holding in tears and bursting out crying anyway
gone are the days of submission
gone are the days of feeling like I don't measure up
gone are the days of not going to work because I "can't handle it."
gone are the days of feeling like a failure
gone are the days of leaving work early because i "couldn't handle it" and "had a meltdown"
gone are the days of bosses seeing me cry under a table
etc. etc. etc.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I will have bad days now and again. I know this. But I had such a great day today.... it matched my desire to make this year the YEAR OF THE ADULT..... I turned 30 this year, met the man I want to marry and grow old with.... moved in with him... took on more financial responsibilities.... yes, oh yes, this job will be wonderful. It's everything I wrote in my God Box and my Universe Box, everything! It nourishes me. The people really CARE about me. I've already made two mother-like friends. The environment is fun and professional, too. I've ordained the best job for me!

If you've followed my plight, this has been a three year search. I kept going from job to job and "failing"... or perhaps I should say misfiring..... I got my training wheels on after a long stint of unemployment after Mom died... and got a part-time job at the bookstore.... and after 7 months of that.... now I have this full-time job.... and i am up the task, people! I'm so excited!

I felt Mom around me all day. And you know what? I couldn't wait to come home and write to all of YOU and shout and yell and laugh and cry. This year really IS about becoming ME - THE ADULT. (always hugging the inner child, too, mind you). But I've had SUCH problems being an adult... or appropriately life-mature all of my life.... everything is just falling into place. October 1st, Lee and I move into our new home - it will be a house or a duplex. And I'll be working at a job I love. Living with the man I love.

Celebrate with me! And I know so many of you are in flux with your jobs now.... just keep holding on.... keep visualizing and hoping and dreaming.... love love love,

fin.

Full-Time Working Woman - woot woot!

Yay!!!! I'm a working woman now. I was before, but only part-time. I'll be working for an established company as a dispatcher. Not something I've done before, but I'm willing to give it a try. Apparently, I gave a killer interview. :)

Have a toast with me!

Cheers!

fin.

Living Out of Boxes and Good Old Fashioned L-O-V-E

So I'm here. Lee's place. It feels surreal. Both Callie and I have acclimated ourselves to his apartment amazingly well. I wish Lee felt the same, haha. He's slightly overwhelmed with all of my "stuff" being everywhere. To be fair, I only set up my altar in the bedroom (with few things on it, not my usual montage of stuff) and I set up my desk. Perhaps it's the desk that bothers him the most; it is pretty busy.

But last night, I was "home" (yes, this is my home now!) and I sat at my computer and I worked on Motherlung. 52 poems. How I wish 52 was an acceptable number for pages in a book. Mom was 52 when she died. But most contests say 56-70 or some random number like that. But I read through all the poems and I really have a good feeling about this book. I feel it's "touched."

Now "Touched" can mean a lot of things. In my case, it is "Touched" by Mom, by God, by the faeries, whatever. the whole bunch, even! It's special. It's a book I won't be able to repeat in intensity. I will write other books, but this is special. This kept Mom alive a little longer for me. And it continues to keep her spirit alive whenever I read a poem. I had to revise the poems with the Poet Hat on and not the Daughter Hat. That was hard. I kept wanting to become sad because the poems are, well, sad. But the middle section picks it up a little, as good old Tenaya advised me to do.

Reading the older poems, seeing how much pain I was in... and seeing how much more... at peace... I am. It's amazing. It's mostly due to the love I received from people along the way: Alex, Lauren, Jake, Laurie, Vic, Becky, and especially Lee.

There's an interesting theory I have about Lee and Mom. I strongly feel that were Mom alive today, I would not be with Lee. Mom enabled me a lot and let me stay a child in many ways. When she died I had to grow up fast. In January of '08 I declared I wanted to become an adult. And I met Lee -someone who needed an adult partner, someone who could pick up their half of the slack, someone who kept their responsibilities. He taught me SO much about going to work and staying at work. How to get through rough days. The importance of thinking of the big picture. That big picture being me wanting to spend the rest of my days with him and him needing a responsible, stable partner.

I've never been a stable partner until now. Oh, of course I have crying jags (mostly once a month) and I say to Lee, "I need to melt down. I'll tell you what to say, I'll tell you what to do...just hold me while I cry and talk it out." And he does. He does it well. And then soon we're laughing again and watching "Stargate." :)

But yes... I feel if Mom were still alive, I wouldn't have learned how to become an adult. I wouldn't have been ready for a relationship like the one I have with Lee.

It's a bittersweet realization, no? My greatest gift was born out of my greatest tragedy.

Speaking of mothers, Lee's mother is visiting this weekend and staying with us. She brought TONS of food as mothers do and promises to make many meals. I say, go ahead! She's so sweet and very talkative. But at least she's not talkative and boring. She always has good stories. She's very special to me and I hope to be in her life for a long time.

So obviously you know that I'm not at my old apartment anymore. That means that my phone has been turned off. I only have my cell number. Email me if you don't have that number and want it. Of course I don't mean this to the stranger who comes across my blog. I'll think you're weird. Friends only, please.

Last night I had a taste of what it will be like when I get a full-time job. I'd get home at 5 or 6, Lee will already be gone. He won't be home till 11:00 or so. So between 6 and 11 it'll be just me. I see this as the most opportune to write and connect with myself and friends (like Lauren and Jason and Alexandria and Becky and Melissa and whomever else comes along)...but mostly write. I've always lounged in front of the TV... not focused on my writing every night. I cringed when I heard of writing practice every day by Natalie Goldberg and Julia Cameron.

But I am a writer. And I plan to publish. And my poems sitting on my floppy disk ain't going to publish themselves. So away I go into submission land, mailing out individual poems and, eventually, my book.

A word of advice. Don't eat a lot of chocolate and then have a cafe mocha. Overload.

May all your wishes come true, even the ones you don't know about yet.

fin.

In Flux

Let's see... where to start. I'm sorry I've neglected this blog as of late, it's just that life has been in total flux and nothing has come of it. I still don't have a full-time job that pays well (though I love my part-time job which doesn't pay well) and I'm moving in with Lee at his apartment and going house/duplex hunting with him on Wednesdays. And interviewing with numerous temp agencies. My favorite thus far is Drake and Company.

So, as you see, life is a bit chaotic now. But I'm having some special moments. Like today when Lee made his famous eggs benedict or when Alexandria ran into my arms and kissed me and said "bubble" while we were blowing bubbles. Or Issa telling me she's starting a literary journal on-line. Or connecting with Rhona, Mom's childhood friend.

So things are going...

Remember last year when I was so gung-ho about Abraham-Hicks? I think I strayed a bit and need to get back in the mindset of appreciation of what I have and gratitude for what is going to be given to me. There's a reason why I haven't gotten a job yet and it's not because my resume looks job-hoppy. Part of me isn't emotionally ready for it. Well, I *want* to be ready for it. So I'm going to read over the books again and refamiliarize myself with its ideas.

My apartment looks desolate and messy. Full of cat hair and dust balls. Bless-ed Lauren is taking my couch and bed. I'm attached to them both and didn't want to give them to just anybody. So I'm glad they're going to a good home.

I'm going to crawl into my bed now. One more week of sleeping alone. Then it's full-blown coupledom for me! :) It's ok, I don't mind. :)

fin.

Go Inside Out!

Today I have my Inside Out Writing Workshop. I planned it out last night and am including lots of fun new prompts and exercises. Last night I even had a dream I was with Natalie Goldberg in her New Mexico home talking about writing. Must be a good sign.

Well, even if you're not coming to the workshop, I wrote a blog on my Inside Out Writing blog that gives some writing ideas for the curious and for the workshop attendee who wants something more after she/he's done with my workshop.

So visit and try some of the exercises on for size. I'll occasionally be updating it with new prompts and exercises.

Can't wait to start the workshop today!

In other news, this morning, I got Lee up and we're going to get the Sunday paper and officially begin our house search (renting). I'm oober excited because that will be such a momentous moment - the first time we look for a house or a townhome/duplex. :)

Have a wonderfully creative and loving day!

fin.

Toddler Magic

I visited with Lauren and Alexandria (15 months old) today and Alexandria KNOWS me now. She KNOWS I'm a staple person in her life. She got excited when I arrived. As I held her and fed her, she fed me too! :) It was soooooo cute. And when I went in for a kiss, she leaned up and kissed ME goodbye. I feel so special. I love this little being so much. I was all a-glow on the ride home. Children can make the world a happy place. All my worries just disappeared.

Thank you, Alexandria, my poochie girl. I can't wait to grow older with you.

fin.

What If?

What If...

I started doing all the things I've talked about...

I stopped worrying what people thought about me...

I dared to be loud...

I "grieve it all one at a time..." (Alanis Morissette)

I thought of myself as an adult already...

I knew that I can do whatever I want...

I knew that I can have whatever I want...

I no longer thought it would turn out badly...

I remembered what Abraham-Hicks taught me...

I depended on ME and ME alone...

I stopped thinking my inspiration would only last a day

I remembered that I went to Ireland by myself...

I thought of the big picture instead of the immediate present's pain

Not feeling it all - all of the time...

What if?...

fin.

THIS is why I google myself!

I found myself reviewed by the Midwest Book Review! And I found my book, "We Nod Our Dark Heads" and an excerpt on many websites. They all say the same thing, but look how many websites I made it on! :)

In the following, my book is meshed in there with others mentioned.
http://www.maximumfitmag.org/forum/12/1225/what-to-feed-eastern-box-turtles-mbr-the-poetry-shelf

http://www.thefreelibrary.com/We+Nod+Our+Dark+Heads.(Brief+article)(Book+review)-a0178796588

http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G1-178796588.html

http://www.allbusiness.com/medicine-health/diseases-disorders/10204097-1.html

http://www.talkaboutabook.com/group/alt.books.reviews/messages/66933.html

So you'd be surprised what you'd find if you google yourself. It's not conceited, it's informative!

fin.

Being an Adult is Expensive!

Lee and I need a 3 bedroom house/apartment. Preferably a house. His kids might be with us one day. That's a whole other ball of wax. :) I'm excited, though.

Anyway, I've been looking online at houses and you can't really rent a house (and yes, we're hoping to rent because neither of us makes enough money to buy a house) - a 3 bedroom house - for under $1000.00. It's crazy. Well, you CAN...if you're willing to live in squalor and in a horrible neighborhood.

It's still a bit early to be truly looking for a place for September 1st...but I can't help it, I'm so excited!

And for August, I'll be living in Lee's current apartment. That will be a bit difficult because I can't decorate or bring out my stuff. And he only has one TV station.
But hey. That means I work on my poetry submissions more, get "Motherlung" revised and finished and sent off!

I have a job lead (after the last one fell through). It's less money, but could be more enjoyable with more personal interaction. Wish me luck!

fin.

Mike Droho and The Compass Rose know their direction

Last night was so very special. Remember me telling you that the song "Portland" was Lee and my "song?"

Our "oh honey they're playing our song" song.

Well, last night Lee and I were able to go down to the Memorial Union Terrace to hear the band. Mike Droho hosted the open mic. Lee and I got there around 9:30. It was packed with herds of college folk, beer, and cigarettes. But it was pretty. We were right on the lake.

Lee and I papasquated on the grass as there weren't any tables available. The mosquitoes were horrible. Mike was spraying down the performers with bug spray.

We eagerly awaited 10:00 so we could see the real reason we came. We shifted over 10 feet to get a better view and suddenly the mosquitoes weren't bad. The band started with "Equilibrium"

(the band's website: www.thecompassroseband.com and the myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/mikedroho)

which is a FABULOUS song. The perfect song to start out with. Mike put so much of himself into it that he jokingly said after it was finished that he had spent all his energy on that; he was done.

They continued to play and you could tell the chattering mob of people on the terrace perked their ears up. You could tell this wasn't the open mic portion of the evening. This band set the bar HIGH. This was REAL hard-earned music.

I had previously emailed Mike Droho and told him the story of "Portland" being "our song" and he graciously wrote back thanking me and saying he'd play it that night (so cool! I felt like someone famous had written back to me!).

So we eagerly waited for "Portland" and, sure enough, it started. I scooted closer to Lee and he put his arm around my waist. I clutched his hand with mine and I know I should have been watching the band, but for just a few moments I closed my eyes and suddenly everyone around us disappeared. It was just Lee and me. The past four and a half months showed like a movie in my head and my heart just glowed.

During the lyric, "and in your bed I feel safe..." I squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. I remember the day he emailed me these lyrics, before I had ever heard of the band.... and now my musical life is so much the better for knowing these folks.

"Groove Song," a favorite of mine, closed the show as Mike showed his excellent electric guitar skills and let it all out. As Lee and I walked back to the car, he said:

"You know what's cool? Most couples have "their song" by a musician who might tour New York, L.A., the - only the major cities and you never get to hear them. Ours plays right here in Madison and we can go out and see them whenever we like. Aren't we lucky?"

But the story doesn't end there, folks. This band has a serious future. They are good. Spectacular. Read up on them. Go to one of their shows if you're in Madison. They are prolific and important.

It's nice to know for the rest of our days, Lee and I will always think of them fondly and with much gratitude.

fin.