TOP 10 THINGS I LOVE THAT MY SISTER-IN-LAW HAS SAID

10. NAR NAR CHAI LA DAKPO MA-GYAB NA RIL RIL OWE LA DO CHAR BAB-YOUNG Which mean, you will get stone of showers on your round head, if you don't control your long tongue.

9. Michael go to the refrigerator three times before I talk to him in the morning (for cream in his coffee). He no talk until third time there.

8. I no drink the coffee anymore. When I drink the coffee, everything Michael say, WRONG!

7. You talk to your mama like that in India? Bam, bam! (After hearing Woohoo speak to me.)

6. After going to a Catholic Mass with me, she's been saying, "Alleluia!" at the end of nearly everything.

5. You cannot cut your hair after sun go down, your spirit will go right away.

4. Little Boy think he king! (Speaking of her son.)

3. I live like rock star! (She said this even when the floors were plywood, there was no central heat, no completed bathroom in the house, no oven, no stove, no dishwasher, you get the idea.)

2. I love to watch wrestling on TV! It's REAL, Sister Carrie!

1. "I LOVE IT!" said approximately 100 x a day.

(View outside my window now, but picture provided by NPS.gov)

END OF DESIRE

I'm still turning over the idea that peace comes at the end of desire, yet we are to ask for what we want. Here are my latest ramblings/musings/ahas:

I still think peace comes at the end of control. Period. But some of what we are trying to control comes in different shapes and sizes and masquerades as the needs for:

Restitution

Retaliation

Revenge

Justice

Enough

I'd love to hear your thoughts, especially if you disagree! Bring 'em on!

love.

A DISINTERESTED TRUTH

I throw the I Ching and the answer to my question comes. I have a lot of questions. I'm confused about a lot of things. Don't know the things to say or do to make things "better" and doing nothing feels like doing nothing. So I throw the I Ching with this question in my mind, "What do I do now?" The answer comes, "There is wisdom in the disinterested truth."

I had not heard this term before, don't know how that's possible with a family full of lawyers, but I was familiar with the concept.

Detachment.

The end of desire.

I put on my chains and drove the last 60 miles yesterday going 25 MPH in a wintery storm. Some of the drive was treacherous. Some of it was still. And peaceful. And so, so beautiful. White, white everywhere.

While I made this drive, I let one song play over and over on the stereo, "The End of Desire" by Jennifer Berezan. The chorus soothed and kept me company all the way.

"It’s high as a mountain it’s deep as the sea
It’s wide as a valley
It’s full and it’s empty
It’s everything I want when my wanting retires
It’s all that begins
at the end of desire
the end of desire"

Now I'm here, safe and nestled, fully cozy and lacking nothing. It's easy to not desire when you are not lacking.

Driving over I felt a deep resonance that attachment causes suffering, and peace comes at the end of desire. I also believe in the Law of Attraction, and that what we want we draw towards us. How do we live with both? How do we end desire, and ask the Universe for what we want? Are these not opposites?

Now, feet up inches from the wood stove, rocking back and forth in the antique chair, I try to hold these two beliefs and see how they might have more in common than first meets the eye.

Control. That is the difference. We end our desire for control. We don't end our desire. We want health. We want happiness. We want peace. We must end our desire for controlling how that all comes to be, how that looks, how that will shape up.

Live and let live, right? Live simply so that others may simply live? How do we love someone, and end our desire for controlling them? How do we want what is best for them, without controlling things how we see best?

When I asked my question, "What do I do now?" I wasn't really asking that. I was seeking affirmation that what I wanted to do was the right thing to do. I was not interested in the disinterested truth. I wanted the truth to be my truth, that with the right plan in place, I could control the behavior of another.

H.H. says, "Yes, I am a Buddhist. I have a strong faith toward Buddhism, but I should not have an attachment toward Buddhism. If I attach myself to it, then that's against the essential teachings of Buddhism."

A disinterested truth.

RIGHT THERE ALL ALONG

Sitting on my brother's sectional, we all watch "The Wizard of Oz" on TV. Sonam, my raised in India sister-in-law, has never seen the movie. Neither has my raised in the good ol' US of A son. We turn it on late, only 40 minutes to go until the end.

Woohoo, Michael and I try to explain the movie to Rojo and Sonam.

"The Lion wants courage."

"The Tin Man wants a heart."

"The Scarecrow wants a brain."

"Dorothy wants to go home."

Michael, Woohoo and I have each seen the show so many times we can recite the lines right along with the actors.

"Poppies, poppies, poppies will put them to sleep," we say in our best Wicked Witch of the West voices.

"See The Horse of a Different Color?" we coo. Get it?

They don't get it. Nowhere in Rojo's or Sonam's background is a cultural reference for that.

Nor is there any comprehension of needing a brain, heart or courage.

Let alone "going home." These two know that home is where the heart is. They are always home. Always.

A friend that reads my blog (my favorite kind) came over for coffee before Christmas. I have the most darling Christmas coffee pot, creamer, sugar bowl and matching mugs. I don't entertain save for coffee, and I invent ways to use this during December.

We sit in my family room duly admiring the darling dishes.

My friend says, "You know where the yellow couch is, right? I don't have to say it, it's so obvious it's embarrassing."

"NO! Where?" I say, not having a clue where she's going with this.

"It's in your living room, Carrie. YOU have a yellow couch."

And while it's true I have a yellow couch, I have never realized I HAVE A YELLOW COUCH!

There's no place like home.

THAT'S MY BOY

I like to do whatever Michelle O'Neil does, and she wrote about the biggest hits of her kids' Christmas, so I need to do that too.

When we took Rojo to visit Santa a few weeks ago, he sat on his lap and looked bewildered when Santa said, "What do you want for Christmas?" Rojo, fully believing in Santa at age 11, but not fully believing in the whole "wanting" thing, answered, "You tell me," to Santa.

"How about a train?" Santa suggested desperately.

"Yes! That is a great idea, Santa! Yes! I want a train!" Rojo exuded.

Hopping off Santa's lap he comes rushing over to me, "Mom! I am going to get a train from Santa!"

Now, a little back story. The boy has never shown an interest in trains. We've had train videos. We've had all the Thomas "system." We've had trains, trains and more trains at our house. Not. One. Bit. Of. Interest. I finally packed them all up and gave them away. Years. Ago.

STM decided to spiff up his old train set from childhood, still in a box in his parents' basement. We wrap it in Santa paper (you all do that, right? Separate paper from Santa?) and put it out on Christmas Eve.

Rojo wakes at 6:00 jumping up and down (literally) and says, "I want to go see my train! Where the hell is my train? Is that my damn
train?" he asks, pointing to the box lying beside his bursting with gifts stocking.

Pulling the wrapping off so fast it all but sparks, he sees the train, grabs it, hugs it, dances, swears, yells, jumps and is thrilled for the rest of the day. Doesn't actually play with it for more than 5 minutes, but thrilled.

He had fun opening his brand new Nintendo DS Lite, and several hundred dollars worth of other "things" but the train, ah, the train.

As he brushed his teeth (in the laundry room sink, where he always does, don't ask me why) he says through his foamy mouth, "This is the best Christmas I ever had."

"I'm so glad," I respond. "What were the two best things about it?"

"The train!" he answers.

"Yes, that was such a great gift from Santa. What else was great about Christmas?" I probe.

"You were there!" he answers with a look of total "duh" on his face.

He just bought himself another year of "Not a mark on him!"



*Photo from Jupiter Images

MERRY DAY

Today is Christmas. I'm delighted to discover that this year I have a high number of friends not celebrating Christmas. This year I know a lot of people of different faiths, and that thrills me. None-the-less, today is Christmas, and to you, my friends of all faiths and non-faiths, I wish you a merry, merry day.

Thank you, each of you readers, lurkers, commentors, "real" friends and "virtual" friends, family and loved ones everywhere, for your presence in my life.

Love, love and more love. Period.

SEE NO EVIL

My brother has been living in my dad's old house since before my dad died eleven years ago. Sonam has lived there with him for four years, Kunga for two. In those years the house has been remodeled and most noticeably, re-energized. Literally, the old, angry, drunken, cigarette smoke-filled house has been replaced with all that is right with the world.

My dad had travelled extensively in "the Orient" when he was young, and our home was filled with all kinds of his relics from those days. He never explained any of them, to me anyway, when he was alive. Sonam has now made the scary dragons and sharp-edged artifacts soft and lovely with her understanding of their role in Buddhism, and her feminine touches around the house.

In what is now their shrine room, are two giant deities, one of Buddha, one of Tara. Michael and Sonam paid over time for them, and finally had enough to have them sent over from Asia. Then Sonam and her sister, Suthi, carefully painted them. The shrine room isn't ready yet, they still sit on the floor but will one day sit on their own specially-made tables.

Before it was Michael and Sonam's house, the shrine room was my parent's master bedroom. It is the room in which my father died.

Now, instead of being able to walk in and say, "Dad died here," we enter to do a practice that is meant to instill peace, love and compassion for all sentient beings.

Tara and Buddha have not been consecrated yet. They have been filled, literally, with prayers and painted according to strict protocol, but until a lama that Sonam hand-picks comes and blesses them, the deities must remain blind-folded with a holy katya. They are vulnerable to evil spirits if their eyes are open and their beings are not consecrated.

Perhaps we humans should have holy katyas wrapped around our mouths and typing fingers until we've been blessed, consecrated. With our mouths and loose fingers we can forget to use skillful speech. We can forget to be our highest selves. We can forget that we are on this path together, to help, encourage, walk alongside each other with love, peace, compassion, tolerance and patience. We are not meant to walk behind or in front of each other on the path, but alongside, in cooperation, not competition. There is no scarcity. There is not a special guest list for enlightenment, all are welcome, the more the merrier.

We humans tend to forget that what we preach, so must we practice. We can forget that sticks and stones can break bones, and words can break spirits. We can forget that it is easier to add words, than to take them away, once spilled from our careless lips they are never to be fully gathered and made whole again.

That expression my mother used all the time? The one that she thought gave her carte blanche? "Do as I say, not as I do?" Yea, that one. I'm not a fan of that one. What we say and what we do are not easily extricated from one another, once mixed together they are like a casserole, once put together, the ingredients are impossible to separate. I vote we all try to align what we say and what we do, but that's just me.

Until we do reach a state of enlightenment, can we all agree to open our eyes to see beauty? Open our ears to hear truth? Open our minds to seek wisdom? Open our mouths to speak kindness? And open our hearts to love? Can we agree to at least try?

love.

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES

The kids and I are in Eugene, Oregon this weekend. More specifically, we are staying with my brother's family, in my childhood house. It was a house when I lived here, it is a home now.

This year there will be no Santa coming down the chimney to bring toys to my little nephew, Kunga. This family is Buddhist, and Santa is not in my sweet nephew's 2-year-old vocabulary. That didn't stop my kids and me from bringing him gifts. He's a typical boy, loves dump trucks, fire trucks, school buses, pretty much anything with wheels. He also is being introduced to the wonder of Fisher Price and "Little People."

I don't know about you, but Fisher Price was INTEGRAL in my child development. My brother had the garage, I don't think I had jack shit, but my cousins, wow, they must have been rich, they had the castle, airplane, A-frame, house, airport and I think I remember a hospital and some random horses. Heaven. Pure heaven!

We got Kunga the dump truck/bulldozer construction site. He can hardly stand it, he's so excited. He has the attention span of, oh, I don't know, a TYPICAL child, but not a typical 2-year-old. He has been playing with that damn thing all day. All. Day. Without anyone needing to make truck sounds, show him how fun it is, etc.

I don't wish he had ADHD, I don't wish my kids didn't, but key-rist, the differences are stunning.

Sonam, my darling sister-in-law, shows me the other Fisher Price toy they inherited, the house, with a few stray Little People. BTW, the Little People are HUGE now, I can't believe a child ever choked on the old style Little People, but I guess they did, or could, anyway, ain't no way they're choking on these suckers now!

I take each Little Person from the house and hold it up to Kunga.

"Kunga, who is this?" I ask, showing him the brown-faced, curly, black-haired lady.

"That's Oprah," he says, matter-of-factly.

I laugh until my sides split, gather myself, then hold up the next one. This time a rather androgynous looking person with short, brown hair.

"Kunga, who is this?" I ask.

"That's Aunt Carrie," he says without a trace of irony.

"From your lips to God's ears, Kunga, from your lips to God's ears."

LADY BUG, LADY BUG, FLY AWAY HOME

See this cute little ladybug sitting on a pretty leaf? Darling!

See this cute little ladybug sitting on my TONGUE? NOT SO CUTE!

I swear to God, I just about swallowed one!

WHAT is a ladybug doing in my water glass in winter? In my tightly sealed home? Please tell me HOW it got there, and how I can be so possibly distracted that I didn't NOTICE the giant ladybug in my glass before filling my mouth with a huge gulp of water and its poor little unsuspecting body!

Luckily for ladybugs, I have a killer gag reflex. I coughed that thing up so fast it would have made your head spin. She was FINE! I opened up the door and set her free. She will survive.

Ladybugs symbolize good luck. I'm pretty sure she was the lucky one this time.

Key-rist! I've been roared by Jenny Rough at Roughly Speaking. What an honor!

OK, so I am supposed to list three things that make great writing. Well, let's see:

1) HUMOR - I like to laugh! If you have a sad ass story to tell, you don't have to be Robin Williams, but you need some humor to break up all the sadness. Some of my favorite books have depressing stories, but aren't depressing to read. That was what I loved about Blackbird, my favorite book of all time.

2) Cut to the chase! Be succinct, but don't forget to paint the reader enough of a stage that they feel they are there.

3) Make me think. Challenge me. Turn something I hold as true, and force me to re-think it, but don't piss me off. It's a fine line. I want to open my mind but not blow it all to bits.

OK! There you have it! Now I am supposed to tag 5 writers. I tag:

Deb
RiversGrace
Jess
Kimmy Pie
Holly

I also know it's a crazy time of year for everyone but Holly (see her blog) so I will understand if you deal a chimp to me.

SAY, "AHHHHHHH-MEN!"

Had my regular dental check-up today. I am a dental wonder. WONDER, I tell you. Nothing pleases a good dentist more than seeing me bite together. The joy on their faces would bring tears to your eyes, TEARS!

I've had what dentists technically call, one &%$#@@ up jaw/bite/mouth forever. Well, not forever, for the first 39 years of my life. And now I don't. Now I bite together and teeth touch, there is occlusion, closure, and this, apparently, is really, really important.

Closure. Yes, it's a nice thing to have when one is attempting to speak, eat, swallow and breath. It's also, as I've recently discovered, a nice thing to have in life, overall.

The tricky thing about closure is, you don't always know when something has come to an end, so you don't do any closure activities/ceremonies, nothing, about it. Then, when you wake up in a cold sweat one night in your bed of knotted sheets and soggy pillows, you sit bolt upright and say, "Key-rist! I guess that is OVER! WTF?"

So, I made my dentist turn cartwheels in his office today, and came home and had a LONG telephone conversation with someone that helped me to feel emotional closure. We actually spoke for 158 minutes, according to our anal retentive telephone systems. Through that mega conversation we laughed, raged, got teary, and most importantly, got to to the bottom, the end, the finale of a project we've been working on for a year now. Closure.

So why don't I feel like a whole new person today? Why was last night the night I awoke with tangled, soggy sheets and mind whirling with disappointment, outrage, deep sadness, deep regret, and humiliation? What's up with that?

So we all agree there are no accidents, right? Everything happens for a reason? Our enemies are our best friends? We are all each others' teachers? Blah, blah, blah? My mind gets this. My soul gets. My body doesn't. My body wants to shake. My body wants to sweat. My body wants to yank things off walls and throw things from shelves. My body wants an outward display of closure. It wants to look around my environment and SEE the end of an era, not just understand it in the abstract. My body wants concrete signs of the end.

When my body, mind and spirit all come to the end of this road, then, and only then, there will be closure.

True closure.

Occlusion.

Conclusion.

Finality.

The end.

The new beginning.

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DEALING WITH HERE?

Rojo's name has morphed. It went from Rojo to Rojo-de-do-de-do, to Rodeo-ho-ho, and now even HE is referring to himself as Rodeo. Yee haw! Ride em' cowboys!

So, Rodeo comes into my office and says, "OK, Mom, I'm going to ask you a question, and you have three choices for answers. You can say, 'SURE!' or you can say, 'Maybe,' but you cannot say, 'No.'"

Not bothering to explain that is not really three choices, I agree to hear the question.

"Can you go to Safeway and buy a bottle of Aquafina?"

"Right now?" I ask, looking at my watch and planning my "out."

"Yes! Right now! You will go to Safeway and you will buy me one bottle of Aquafina. You will open up that thing they have like a refrigerator? The one you just walk right up to and open? The one you just open up the door and take the Aquafina?" His eyes bounce with joy just talking about the refrigerator containing bottles and bottles of expensive and environmentally disastrous tap water.

"Oh, I don't know, Rodeo, we have two cases of water in the garage that you've already talked me into buying."

"Mom! That is not one of the answers! You are supposed to THINK ABOUT THE QUESTION BEFORE YOU ANSWER IT!," a line obviously borrowed from his teacher.

"OK, I will think about it."

"Great!" he beams, bouncing off like I just handed him a winning lottery ticket.

I go back to writing and forget all about the Aquafina.

For a full two minutes.

"MOM," he bounces back in, "did you have time to think about going to Safeway? BUT, before you decide, Daddy says you can either take Woohoo to Youth Group, or you can go to Safeway, we need bread."

I quickly depress Control/Save and trudge downstairs.

"I will take Woohoo to Youth Group, and on the way home I will get the Aquafina and bread from Safeway!" I announce to the gathered family, smiling proudly at myself for killing three birds with one stone, and thinking evilly how I can work this in my favor later.

I do just that, and when I return triumphant, I am met at the door by a very sad and deeply troubled young boy.

"I was scared to death! You did not take me to Safeway! I wanted to GO with you to Safeway! You were supposed to TAKE me to Safeway, not buy Aquafina without me! I do not want that stupid Aquafina! That is a BAD bottle of Aquafina! I am so sad you did not take me to Safeway! Why did you not take me to Safeway? Why did you scare me to death?"

He cannot catch all the tears pouring from his eyes, both sleeves and two Kleenex are not enough for the spillage. He is hardly intelligible through all the sobbing. His little heart is BROKEN - fully broken. He is holding the Sharpie pen in his hand, all ready to write his name on the bottle of Aquafina that HE wanted to choose from the special refrigerator, and I've gone and blown his plan all to hell.

"I am so sorry, Rodeo, SO sorry! I didn't understand! I thought I was supposed to bring it back for you!"

"No! That was NOT what you were supposed to do! You did not follow directions!"

I quickly determine that this is one of those times when I must give in, buckle, turn things around at all cost, or it will escalate to the point of no return, and frankly, I'm just not up for that scene tonight.

"OK, get your shoes and coat on, let's go."

One last wipe down of the face and he's pulled himself together enough to get himself in the car.

Still snuffling, recovering from the aftershocks of sobbing, he says, "Were you trying to deal me a chimp?"

"Beg pardon?" I say, eyes on the rainy windshield, mind a million miles away.

"You were trying to deal a chimp to me, weren't you, Mom!"

"Excuse me?" I say, now fully intrigued with what he is saying, and mind frantically searching for the real meaning.

"Ahhh..." I say, as it slowly dawns on me, "No, I don't think I'm dealing with a chimp, Rodeo. I'm sorry about the mix-up."

"That's OK, Mom, I won't deal a chimp to you either."

FULL CIRCLE

I'm from Eugene, Oregon. And if you've never heard of it, that's OK, you've been affected by it. I. Promise.

In 1971 a man named Bill Bowerman, while coaching a bunch of runners at the University of Oregon, decided he could improve upon the shoes the runners were wearing. He grabbed his wife's waffle iron and made the first NIKE. Green and yellow, U of O colors, go Ducks! The rest, as they say, is history.

Eugene remains the running capital of the world.

I am not a runner.

My husband was. He ran and was wicked good in high school, still holds two school records 30 years later, even after everything was converted into metric. His records can't be touched.

STM, my husband, ran himself to a full scholarship at Boise State University, and did well. He really wanted to run for the Ducks, though. All really good runners seek a spot on the U of O track team. A guy named Phil Knight ran there. Some kid called Steve Prefontaine, Alberto Salazaar, Mary Decker Slaney, maybe you've heard of them? Research the history of track and you'll find these names in every case.

Finally, after two years as a Bronco, STM abandoned his full scholarship and decided to transfer to U of O. He could run for the team, but not on a scholarship. He would have to run (100 miles a week) and work, and go to school. But he did. And he was amazing.

We were two people living in Eugene at the same time, but we didn't meet there. It wasn't until I had graduated from the U of O's rival state school, Oregon State (go Beavers! Yes, I said Beavers. I know, I know, believe me, I know, and to make matters worse, their colors are black and orange) and got a job in Portland, that we met.

Little ol' me, with not a BIT of sports interest or ability, got her first job out of college working at NIKE. (That's a whole other blog posting.) At that time NIKE had many buildings all over Beaverton, Oregon, not the "Campus" they have now. I got put into a building for "Footwear" and so did STM. Neither of us had a job remotely related to footwear, but we had a more Universal "job" - meeting each other, I guess.

We met, we dated, we both left NIKE, and here we are today.

Tomorrow, we are invited to be guests at the NIKE Employee Store. My old boss still loves me (Hi, Janell!) and lets me "in" once a year. STM and I are going to shop for ourselves. We are going to spiff ourselves up with current NIKE fashion. Imagine that. We are going to buy a thing or two for the kiddies, too, but mostly, we are going to walk through the door of our past, together, before we walk out the door to our future, together. For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. We've had the worse, the poor and the sickness. We're thinking 2008 might be our year for better, richer and healthier, in all the "right" ways.

Go, Links! Our colors are True and Blue.

Broken sheet of glass

Helium filled underwear (allowing one to spontaneously lift off the ground)

Fire escapes

Paper towels

Attempted rape

Lunch at McDonald's with my mother

Driving a car with no control over how car maneuvers

Trying to write a check but keep making mistakes

College entrance exams

Vacuum cleaners

Lesbians

Aspergians

What do all these things have in common? They were all part of my SAME damn dream last night.

I'm going back to bed. I'm fully exhausted.



PART OF ME EXERCISE: All these aspects of the dream had me trying to gain control over an uncontrollable situation. Here goes:

The broken part of me is trying to clean up part of me. The more I force part of me to do what I want, the more part of me tries to escape part of me.

LIFE IS A SUCCESSION OF MOMENTS, TO LIVE EACH ONE IS TO SUCCEED.

OK, so I got out my old 1984 wall calendar last night, right before going to bed. What? What's that you say? You can't believe I still have my wall calendar from 1984? Really? You can't? Well then you don't know me very well! Believe it, baby. Believe. It.

So, as I was saying, I got out my old 1984 wall calendar last night, and I finished a project I started 23 years ago. Twenty. Three. Years. Ago.

What's that you say? Who has a "To Do" list that is 23 years old? Well, again, I do. Get over it.

23 years ago I got the calendar of a lifetime, artwork by Corita Kent, my GURU, may she R.I.P. It's a series, 12 pieces that flow from one to the other with their words and with the paint brush.

The theme is moments. Loving all of them. Loving the dark moments. Loving the light moments. Loving the moments in between.

I'll be damned if the message isn't just as pertinent to me as it was in 1984.

But here's the funny thing. I'm a neurotic keeper of the birthdays. I always know when everyone's birthday is, and in 1984 I was even WORSE. Almost every day has the name of someone I guess I acknowledged. Scary thing is, 3/4 of these names don't ring one damn bell for me now. Not. A. Bell. Who the hell were these people that I just HAD to recognize, that I can't even conjure up a face for now?

They were flashes in the pan. They were in my moment then. Not now.

But some of the names? The other 1/4? I am still in touch with. 23 years later they are still in my life, and I love them more now than I did then.

They were the real deal. Life-long friends. They were in my moment. They ARE in my moments now.

Is one better than the other? Can we find just as much value from a short-lived friendship, as from a long one?

Maybe. Some come in, burn bright, then explode and disappear. But while they burn bright, that moment of intensity is so bright its glow carries you for many "moments" afterwards. Many lifetimes, maybe.

Last night I had dinner with three old friends, For eighteen years we've been friends. I was a young, single, poor, hopeful, naive new teacher when I met them. I am older, married, saddled with kids and minus the naivete now. Still hopeful, though. Still think I can make a difference in the world. Eighteen years and we are all still trying to make the difference in the lives of children. We are still who we were then, in that moment. We have had many moons and moments pass between us since, but we really haven't changed much.

Are friendships here to change us? Do others change for having known us? Can we make a difference in the lives of others and yet maintain the status quo? Is it possible to throw ourselves into the lives of others and not ripple their waters? Do we make a small kerplunk or a big, giant, tidal wave? Does it just depend? On what?

The moment. Different moments, different stokes for different folks. We are all different. And so much alike. We need each other. Sometimes we need a small kerplunk that reverberates quietly for years and years. Sometimes we need a messy, crashing wave that comes along, sweeps clean all that is not anchored down in our lives and washes it away. When the storm recedes we see what is left. What is left is real. What was illusion is gone. Those stormy friends can be very significant, no matter how short-lived. We are profoundly changed from having known them.

The twelve calendar pages were cut from their binding last night. Each page cropped to fit its own frame, then inserted inside between glass and cardboard. Shiny glass on the front, strong, sturdy cardboard on the back. One side with the glory, one side there for support, taking a back seat to the spotlight, but making the other side useless without it. Two parts that aren't good until they come together. Two types of friends, no good to us unless we have both. Some friends are shiny and get all the glory. Some are strong, sturdy, there every time you need them, happy to recede into the wings of your life stage, catch you when you fall, come out when you need a hand, then go back quietly again until the next time.

Friendships.

Moments.

Shiny.

Protective.

Sturdy.

Forever friends.

Big, splashy friends.

love.

SYNTHESIS

God, there's nothing better than when two beautiful things/people/events/etc. come together to make something WAY better than the sum of its parts. LOVE that. Love everything about that!

Way back in June I had the profound experience of spending an evening with two ROCK STARS! Well, not rock, better, FOLK STARS! Tracy Grammer and Kate Power. Kate told a beautiful story of having a song "downloaded" to her by the Universe. She wrote the song, "Travis John" and what happened continues to happen. Synthesis. Synchronicity. No accidents. Then Kate sang the song for us. We wept. Then Tracy sang the song for us, her own rendition. We wept. The beauty of these two women's voices. The beauty of the lives they touch by singing. The beauty that Tracy has vowed to sing "Travis John" at every concert until the war is over. Beauty, beauty and more beauty.

So, here's the song, and the story. You need both these CDs, for sure.

TRAVIS JOHN

Under a foreign sky,
my fate awaits me.
There but for God go I,
do not forsake me.

I am a boy,
full of promise,
full of freedom;
And now the joy
is dead and done,
I am gone.

Before the western sea,
my home was in the valley.
There with my family,
I took to manhood early.

I was the one
my brother called,
my mother looked to me,
her fine, strong son;
And now the joy
is dead and done,
I am gone.

Finding my way to go,
the call that I should answer;
My country's own hero,
like music to the dancer.

I am a boy
full of promise,
full of freedom;
And now the joy
is dead and done,
I am gone.

Under a weeping willow tree
you planted roses.
There in my memory,
where my eternal ghost is.

I was a boy
full of promise,
full of freedom;
And now the joy
is dead and done,
I am gone.

And now the joy
is dead and done,
I am gone.

Kate Power
©2003/BMI

"Power's song, 'Travis John' speaks to the grief of war and the heroic idealism of America's youth. Travis John Bradach-Nall was one of the first Oregonians killed in Iraq (July 2, 2003). 'Travis John' captured the attention of local media, who responded with newspaper articles and radio airplay. A special feature on Oregon ArtBeat (OPB) was created to tell the story of the song, the boy, and the studio where it all came together, only to discover that 'Travis John' was unknowingly recorded in the studio that was built by the boy the song was written for.

'Travis John' won 1st prize at the 2006 Kerrville Folk Festival in the 'Music to Life' song contest for social change sponsored by the Public Domain Foundation founded by Noel Paul Stookey. Adopt-a-Minefield is the beneficiary of the prize money in memory of Cpl. Travis John Bradach-Nall. The song was judged by a panel of judges including Peter Yarrow, Noel Paul Stookey, Mary Travers, Judy Collins, Cheryl Wheeler, Janis Ian, Tom Paxton, Christine Lavin, Len Chandler, John Stewart, Tom Chapin & Holly Near." (Information from Artichoke Music)

To order Kate's (and her cute husband's, Steve Einhorn) CD, "Pearls," click here.

















To order Tracy's new CD, "Book of Sparrows," click here.
























love.

PEOPLE

"People! They're the WORST!" says Jerry Seinfeld in one of my favorite "Seinfeld" episodes. Cracks me up every time.

And there isn't a more irritable person on the planet than me. If it can bug? I find it buggy. Having children with some extra buggy tendencies (read "constant behavior") has forced me to be more patient. Yea, the kids. And the 50 mg. of Paxil I religiously pop into my mouth on a daily basis.

"They are my child abuse prevention pills!" I quip. And it's true. Before the meds I was so snappy, grouchy, reactive and all-around bitchy.

Last night I dreamed I was packing up my stuff and I put it all on a boat. Then I swam beside the boat in a river. All of a sudden the river got wild and the boat filled with water. I had to grab, really quickly, what I wanted to save before the river swept it all away.

I grabbed my meds.

And the kids' meds.

And my cell phone.

And my camera.

That's it.

Just really glad to know even in my sub-conscious state I know what matters.

Then I woke up this morning with this song in my head. Although I am bugged by the "says you were half now you're whole" part, but still. I'm a lucky woman. I need people - even the buggy ones.

love.


PEOPLE

People
People who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world,
We're children, needing other children
And yet letting our grown-up pride
Hide all the need inside,
Acting more like children
Than children.
Lovers are very special people,
They're the luckiest people
In the world.
With one person, one very special person
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half,
Now you're whole.
No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person
Who needs people.
People who need people
Are the luckiest people
In the world!

With one person, one very special person
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half,
Now you're whole.
No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person
Who needs people.

People who need people
Are the luckiest people
In the world!


*Photo from Jupiter Images

Do something nice for yourself today, watch this.

love.

P.S. Let's join together for peace the 7th of every month, 7:00 PM, 7 minutes. Thanks to those of you that joined us last night.

PRAY FOR PEACE

Today is Pearl Harbor Day. It is also the 7th of the month. Some of you may already be doing this, but if not, please join me and my neighbors as we stand outside at 7:00 PM, and share a 7 minute prayer for peace in this world. We light our candles, bow our heads, close our eyes, and we come together.

We are Protestants, Catholics, Buddhists, Agnostics.

We are neighbors.

We want peace.

We believe peace is possible.

Please join us.

love.

LOCK DOWN

It's my friend's fault, really, it was her big idea. She wanted to spend time with her husband, "quality time." They decided that instead of using his vacation time taking a vacation, he would spend a week at home. He wouldn't go to work, she wouldn't either. She cleared her calendar totally, and he started buckling under pressure from work. Soon his "week" off was a little bit here and a little bit there. "TFBS!" she called.

Not happy that he was not living in the spirit of their vacation time, she cancelled it entirely.

He wanted to prove he could do it. They re-scheduled. This time she called it "Lock Down." NO EXCEPTIONS. No important meetings or phone calls, just the two of them, together, for a week (plus both weekends). Now, they do have children, and so their alone time was really only during school hours. They spent much time planning good use of those hours, trying to balance fun and responsibility. They had some household projects they wanted to accomplish, but they set aside time for fun things, going to the beach, hiking, lunch out, that sort of thing.

It was a huge success! They had a ball being together! Remembered all the reasons they got married in the first place. They laughed, they puttered around, they had fun, they rested, they relaxed, TOGETHER.

"Don't tell STM about this great idea of yours," I warned her. "He'll LOVE it, and I cannot imagine 9 straight days of togetherness. Please. Take. It. To. Your. Grave."

Well, "Lock Down" got leaked, and he found out. I knew it was only a matter of time until he got some crazy idea about doing the same thing.

He's a smart one, though, my husband. He knew I'd never go for 9 days.

"Care, I'm thinking about a little Lock Down for us. Just 2 nights, I full day, two 1/2 days. Just you and me in Sisters. We'll go to movies, we'll Christmas shop, we'll rent videos, we'll hang. What do you
think?"

Hard to say no to that. He even promised to make all the childcare arrangements.

He did.

We did.

It was great.

I've got two words for you people: Lock Down. Try it, you'll like it!

LINK FAMILY HOLIDAY LETTER

Dear Family and Friends,

Thanks for all the great feedback we got from last year's letter - wow! We didn't realize we had such power, such influence! We were able to TOTALLY RUIN life for many of you, and TOTALLY DELIGHT some of you, all with the same little ol' letter! We are hardly worthy of such import, but thanks, none-the-less!

We're happy to report 2007 has been QUITE the year for the Links! All FOUR of us are now pooping in the toilet! Hurrah!

Carrie finished her book and just about finished her marriage! Ha, ha, ha! Now her book, and her marriage, wait for the results to come in. Will an agent sign her on? Will an agent get her book to sell? Will she make it to the yellow couch? Will her husband stick with her if any of those things happen? We will see! Excitement abounds! 2008 already promises a year of drama!

Rojo never made it out of the Willamette Valley this year. If there ain't no cable, there ain't no Rojo! He doesn't like to be too far away from his daily doses of "Drake and Josh" and "Suite Life of Zach and Cody." But can we just say, thank God for ESPN? "We" know ALL the teams, professional and college! Basketball and football! We know all the mascots, too! Go ahead and try us! You can't stump us, no way, that just goes to show you what a good case of OCD can do for a person! Plus, there just isn't anything more fun than playing the "What does Boston College Stand for?" game! Come on, everybody, say it with me, "Eagles! Go Eagles, Go!"

Our little girl is a teenager now, and that prohibits us from saying anything that could in anyway be interpreted as critical, so, well, enough said! We can say, all those years of arguing? Excellent practice for the teenage years! We really like to prepare our kids well for the next stage of life, and we are going to go ahead and take an A for this one. The girl is a world class arguer! The. Best.

STM continues to be husband and father-of-the-year while his flakey wife squeaks out the last few drops of her "Power Year." She is strongly considering switching it to the "Power Decade" - one year just really isn't enough to do the kind of personal growth, a.k.a. make life a living hell for everyone, that she intends to do!

The Links continue to enjoy the benefits of finding out who their true friends are! Nothing like a dissident blog writer to separate the wheat from the chafe! We've been effectively black balled from some social circles, but that's OK, we have cable! Who needs cocktail parties?

STM and Carrie celebrate their 16th wedding anniversary this month, 22 years of togetherness. Carrie has officially spent 1/2 her life with this man now, and he is still full of surprises! Just when she thinks she's pushed as far as she can push, he opens his big, warm heart and makes more room.

Happy holidays from our crazy household to yours!

love.
The Links


*Photo from http://santaletters4kids.com

JON & KATE PLUS 8

OK, this is my latest fascination - I stumbled on this show in one of my extremely rare TV channel surfing moments, and got hooked. TLC was running a marathon of "Jon & Kate Plus 8" and I got sucked in big time. EIGHT? And I'm sorry, SIX 2-year-olds? Lord, have mercy!

But here's the irony. The more I watched, the less I was in that "I don't know how they do it" state. I DO know how they do it! They have EIGHT children that sleep on a schedule. They have PREDICTABILITY, ROUTINE, ORDER, CONTROL in their home. They have eight children that eat what's put before them. Eight kids that are TYPICAL.

I just finished Jenny McCarthy's book, Louder Than Words. As any parent of a child FAR from typical knows, this is HELL. I'm willing to go way out on a limb and say Jenny McCarthy, and parents dealing with life and death health issues and/or extreme special needs, have it WAY harder than anyone with "just 8."

I want a reality show where they have a film crew around the clock of a mother of a two-year-old with some special needs, and a baby with lots. I want that crew to be there at 1:00 AM, 2:00 AM, 3:00 AM, with the screaming infant, the mother wildly swinging the baby in an infant seat in a futile effort to let the husband and 2-year-old sleep. God knows the daddy has to get up in the morning and "work" - he needs his sleep!

Instead of a camera crew following Kate along while she manages to grocery shop with 2 carts and an impressive array of coupons, ALONE, I want a camera crew to follow the mother of the 2-year-old and infant trying to shop. Please keep the camera rolling as she tries to unload the car, put the food away, cook the dinner, and have everything ready for the husband when he gets home from "work" - he'll be hungry! Please keep the volume on while the infant SCREAMS the entire time! Please keep things rolling as the baby barfs on the mom, the mom's boobs leak, the 2-year-old wets her pants and this is all happening in full stereo in the grocery store.

Are you impressed with her use of coupons? She needs two carts, too, just for a family of four. The infant seat takes up 1/2 of one cart, the two-year-old the other 1/2, then one is for groceries. Of course neither child spends much time in the cart, so this mother wears running shoes to catch the two-year-old while wildly swinging the infant in the car seat. Wouldn't want to disturb all the nice people at the grocery store with all that SCREAMING!

Do I sound bitter? Resentful? Well Key-rist! Kate and Jon had fertility treatment. They KNEW they would likely get multiples. They CHOSE this. They paid good MONEY For this. This is what they bargained for. Are we to applaud them and make them heroic for getting exactly what they wanted? Nobody gets married and says, "Hey, honey, I know, let's have two kids, both with special needs! It'll be just like we always dreamed! The sleep deprivation! The doctor visits! The therapists! The relentless screaming! The bills! The inability to leave the house ever again! What do you say?"

OK, let me come back to center. I like Jon and Kate, they are darling. Their family is darling. We need families like that in the world. Great humans doing great things. I do not wish on anyone the full knowledge of what it takes to raise a special child, or two, or three, or... I do wish for a world where those of us that ARE dealing with atypical children are given the benefit of the doubt. We are given your compassion, not your judgment. We are given your help, not your condemnation. We are given your smile, not your disapproving looks. If you don't know what to do, say that. Say, "I don't know what to do, tell me, I want to help." We will appreciate that. And while you are at it, do not judge our marriages, coping skills, atypical adjustments to life with atypical children. Please. We've got enough to deal with without making it all OK with you.

Thanks.

10 Questions for the Dalai Lama

Y'all aren't tired of me writing about my buddy, H.H., right? Good! I didn't think so! He's just so darn writable! LOVE him, love him, love him, LOVE him! The man personifies "love." He IS love. I just watched this DVD and plan to watch it again immediately. But here are the highlights:

TOP 10 THINGS I JUST LEARNED FROM H.H.

10) He didn't wear his visor once on the video - darn.

9) He's HILARIOUS! A jokester! A trickster! And that GIGGLE - stop! WAY too cute!

8) He's quick to laugh at himself.

7) He's humble - big time.

6) When someone points out a good reason he's wrong, he's quick to apologize and publicly change his statement/opinion.

5) He NEVER veers from his message of love, peace, compassion.

4) When science and religion disagree, he tends to go towards science.

3) He believes many customs are out-of-date and need to go, especially with regards to women.

2) A monk was captured by the Chinese, tortured and held prisoner for two years. When he was released he denounced peace, love and compassion towards the Chinese. After 2 hours with the Dalai Lama he changed back, permanently, to practice/believe/integrate peace, love and compassion for all sentient beings.

1) He chose the next Panchen Lama - the Lama that will identify the next Dalai Lama after his death - and the boy disappeared immediately and has never been heard from since. The Chinese chose their own Panchen Lama and plan to "use" him to "choose" the next "Dalai Lama" In an effort to fully control Tibetans. The Dalai Lama has nothing but compassion for this "Panchen Lama."

That's a little scary - long live H.H.

(Photo by http://partythemeshop.com)


I'm still trying to shake off the night of intense dreaming I just had. Key-rist! I spent the entire night trying to out-smart an organized group plotting to murder me! Then I found out the whole thing was a birthday surprise! It was all a "game" a "trick!"

So, play along with me in the fun game of percept language:

There was a group, part of me, trying to murder part of me. I out-smarted part of me and kept alive part of me. I found out part of me was actually being surprised by part of me.

Say it with me, Key-rist! Yea! A little like that!

(Photo from www.bugmusic.com)

Meet Antje Duvekot

DANDELION
When Harry met Sally it was settled
That Mary Jane would fall for Spiderman
The story was set in stone like
Tarzan and Jane, Yoko and John
You were like my Hollywood movie
The butterflies and Central Park kiss
Of course you would pursue me, I was Julia Roberts
I mean, how could you resist?

Well, I am the Fourth of July
I'm throwing you a fire in the sky
You could go blind in my light
But you were looking for an orchid
And I will always be a dandelion
Dandelion

So I put on the best of my Warhols
I could have been your Marilyn Monroe
But you had only eyes for the Mona Lisa
You shared my cab ride all the way home

But I am the Fourth of July
I'm throwing you a fire in the sky
You could go blind in my light
But you were looking for an orchid
And I will always be a dandelion

I am a middle class home, I am a worn out banjo
I'll never dance in Swan Lake, I'll never play the cello
I am the Northern Lights, I am invisible
I am a dandelion, I am forever wild

I am the Fourth of July
I'm throwing you a fire in the sky
You could go blind in my light
But you were looking for an orchid
And I will always be

You were looking for a tea light
And I will always be a forest fire
A dandelion

I've had this song playing in my head for weeks now. I love it. I am obsessed with it. Not only does it start with mentioning my favorite movie, it articulates something for me I've never quite been able to articulate. I'm a dandelion. Yep, that's right. Me and my new best friend, (NBF) Antje, we're both dandelions. And God dammit, I'm just not going to apologize for that anymore. Who needs an orchid? Too high maintenance! Who needs to dance in "Swan Lake," play the cello, be a work of art? All over rated, if you ask me. I'm no little puny tea light, either - I'm not subtle, understated, quiet, unassuming, NO, dammit, I'm not!

I have wrestled with who I am versus who I think others think I am for too long. Like Dr. Phil says, "We wouldn't care so much about what others think of us, if we knew how little they actually do." Key-rist! So true! Why do I spend more than one second worrying about false perceptions? Worrying about being a banjo in a cello world? Worrying about being a forest fire in a tea light culture? TFBS to that!

For the 22 years my husband and I have been together I've been accusing him of wanting one thing, but getting another. Never did I stop to think, "Wow. I think he actually knew what he wanted and got it! He wanted ME - not someone like me, not someone else, ME." He wanted a banjo, I tried to be a cello. He wanted a forest fire, I tried to be a tea light. He wanted someone to dance WITH, not watch dance.

Why would a person fight a fight that isn't there? Not just fight it, FIGHT it? What's up with that?

If you can figure it out, let me know. In the meantime, I'll be ravishing forests with my fire.

SEVEN THINGS YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME

I've been tagged.

1) The first thing you may not know about me is I hate chain-mail! But more than I hate chain-mail I LOVE talking about myself!

2) I have a "thing" for gay men, always have, always will, and my husband often starts conversations with, "Oh, you'd really like him, he's your type, you know, gay."

3) My SAT scores were so low, I could only get into "easy-to-get-into" colleges when I was 18.

4) I graduated with honors and went on to earn a 4.0 for my Master's degree - so ha, ha, ha.

5) I was an advocate for Talented and Gifted (TAG) kids before I became an advocate for kids with special needs. They are not mutually exclusive categories I soon discovered. There are no accidents.

6) Nobody laughs harder at my jokes than I do. I LOL when I'm all alone.

* Obviously my Master's is not in MATH! It is in Education - now do as I say, and not as I do!

AND DRUM ROLL PLEASE...

7) I'm already shopping for what I'm going to wear on the yellow couch - wouldn't want to clash!

ALLOW ME TO GET UP ON MY SOAP BOX

Christmas time is here, and that means ONE thing: most of you will misuse the apostrophe when addressing your envelopes and/or writing your cards, and that will totally RUIN my Christmas! So, since we OBVIOUSLY don't want that to happen, allow me to give you some simple guidelines. We'll all enjoy the season that much more with the joy of knowing we've pleased the gods of punctuation (and me).

TO SHOW PLURALITY:

1) We are The Links. No apostrophe. Just plural. Simple.

2) The Jones Family or The Jones' is how your pluralize names ending with "S."

3) The Kalez Family, or The Kalezes is correct. Their name ends in z, to make it plural it requires es, but NO apostrophe!


TO SHOW POSSESSION:

1) We are invited to the Link's house for a really fun party.

2) We are invited to the Jones' house for a really fun party. (Tricky! Same as plural!)

3) We are invited to the Kalez's for a really fun party.


And while we're at it, the ONLY time you put an apostrophe in ITS is when it is a CONTRACTION for IT IS. Otherwise it's like hers, ours, his, it is automatically possessive. Simple Simon!


*Photo from Common Sense Farm.com

DON'T FORGET!

Register with me for the Ruth King "Generational Healing" 1-Day Workshop
Friday, February 1st
9:00 AM - 5:00 PM
Portland, Oregon

e-mail me at: fullycaffeinated@comcast.net

TOP 10 WAYS TO BUG YOUR 13-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER AT CHRISTMAS TIME

10. Tell her you're doing all your Christmas shopping at Trader Joe's this year.

9. Play "The Carpenter's Christmas Album" in the car every time she gets in.

8. Mock her Christmas list.

7. Take her shopping but every time she finds something she "needs," tell her, "Great! Put that on your Christmas list!"

6. Tell her you're going to make her wear tights to the school Advent Program, you just can't stand to see her on stage with cold legs.

5. Tell her, "Santa is making a list of who's naughty and nice!"

4. Tell her all you want for Christmas is for her to be happy.

3. Suggest that this year instead of gifts, the whole family is going to donate their gift money to charity.

2. When she asks you what you want for Christmas, start singing, loudly, and in public, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth."

1. Remind her to keep the Christ in Christmas.

THREE TYPES OF SUFFERING

Buddhism teaches there are three types of suffering:

1) Suffering of Suffering - things which bring up fear and pain and we take measures to eliminate
2) Suffering of Change - things which at one time brought satisfaction and comfort and no longer do
3) All-Pervasive Suffering - the basis for the first two - to eliminate suffering you have to get rid of all the aggregates (category of sensory experiences) that are the basis of all suffering (attachment, clinging).

OK, if I have this straight, all sentient begins have suffering of suffering, hunger, pain, etc. Only humans are fickle and grow restless and tired with what they have, and are always wanting. But the real issue is our ideas, our beliefs, our attitudes. Our mind is what brings us the most suffering.

I'm thinking about Christmas. For me, no holiday has as many ideas, beliefs and attitudes associated with it. There are lots of ways to screw up Christmas, and very few ways to get it right. If the tree doesn't get picked with the right "energy" - if there aren't Christmas carols playing while it's decorated by one, big, happy, smiling, singing family, if each ornament isn't pulled from the box with rapt attention from all, then BAM - we've already ruined Christmas. When the lights are tangled, decorations damaged or missing, someone is not in the proper spirit according to someone else's attachment/expectations, then BAM! Christmas is ruined! If the calendar says, "Christmas Season" then it's Christmas Season - damn everything else. HO, HO, HO!

When one person in a family feels conflicting emotions, suffering of suffering, suffering of change, that can really throw a wrench into the festivities.

But should it?

We are certainly affected by those around us, but can they "ruin" things for us without our permission?

There is interconnectedness left and right, but we are all, in the end, alone and individuals. Can one person have high (maybe unrealistic) hopes of how things should be, and another person go on living with themselves despite the fact they are never able to reach the heights of those hopes held by another?

Whose job is it to make our dreams come true? Can we learn to have hopes, but then live with the peace that comes from detaching from the outcome of those hopes?

Do we have a choice?

Have a happy holiday season, if you want to, I don't really care one way or another.

TOP 10 THINGS FOR WHICH I AM THANKFUL

10. Coffee
9. My extended family
8. Humor
7. The wisdom borne of pain
6. My children's school community
5. Amazing friendships
4. Health & vitality
3. My husband & children
2. More coffee
1. love.

ODE TO GARY

He was the one that never took a vacation.
He was the one that worked six days a week for 24 years.
He was the one that saw my baby before most friends.
He was the one that my daughter was first allowed to go visit all alone.
He was the one that sold me bread, milk, ice cream and solace.
He was the one that knew my name.
He was the one that said, "NO RUNNING!" and nobody was afraid of.
He was the one that said, "If we don't have it, you probably don't need it."
He was the one that was right about that.
He was the one that taught me to say "ground beef" instead of "hamburger."
He was the one that ordered extra sourdough bread when he knew Rojo was on a binger.
He was the one that asked what kind of Ben & Jerry's I'd like him to carry.


He was the one that went in for surgery on November 2nd.
He was the one that had complications.
He was the one that stayed in ICU for 16 days.
He was the one we prayed for.
He was the one that died on Sunday.

He is the one we will miss.
He is the one we will never see again.
He is the one we will never forget.
He is the one for whom we leave flowers and cards and candles burning by The Little Store.
He is the one the delivery truck drivers came by for today and left flowers and cards and candles burning.

He was the one with The Little Store and the Big Heart.






*Photos from The Sellwood Bee

IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN!

Some of you will remember this from last year. Well, I'm feeling compelled to update it for this year:

TOP 10 THINGS LIKELY TO BE SAID BY MY MOTHER-IN-LAW ON THANKSGIVING

10. I got a really big turkey this year so we'd all have plenty of leftovers.
9. Boy, it sure is wet out there, isn't it?
8. I suppose it's time to start thinking about Christmas!
7. It rained so hard last night I didn't think it would ever stop.
6. I had Papa put on new wiper blades and my, that sure makes a difference.
5. I got the whole crossword puzzle done today!
4. Aren't we lucky to have everyone together?
3. I just love how everyone pitches in so no one has to work too hard.
2. We are just loving all the new restaurants popping up in our neighborhood.
1. We have so much to be grateful for.

TOP 10 THINGS LIKELY TO BE SAID BY MY MOTHER ON THANKSGIVING

10. I haven't heard a word from your brother - I'm sure he doesn't even consider calling his own mother on Thanksgiving.
9. Good thing I had plans to come here, nobody else I know thought to invite me!
8. What a waste to work this hard and have it all done so quickly.
7. Have you heard what those crazy democrats are trying to do now?
6. The malls will all be an absolute MAD HOUSE from now on!
5. I hate how everyone has taken the Christ out of Christmas!
4. I'm sure Baby Jesus would be horrified to see what we've done with His birthday.
3. Everyone I know has cancer.
2. I left my car unlocked and someone stole my stereo. Can you believe it?
1. Let's hope 2008 is a happier year than THIS one has been!

REBEL WITH A CAUSE

Sorry I couldn't post any sooner, I had to get Roger and Chuck out of my bedroom before I could move forward with my day. It's been awhile since I had this problem of men that would not leave my bedroom when I wanted them to.

First it was Roger. He came to the door at 9:30 AM and said the neighborhood was having a lot of disturbance and interference, and it was coming from our home. Roger would really appreciate it if he could come inside and take a look. My husband answered the door, and not knowing I had anything to hide, led him straight to me - how embarrassing. Then Roger called Chuck - Chuck? Could you come help me? We've got a real doozy on our hands! I've always been too much for one man to handle.

Even with both masterminds at work, the problem remained. Something in my bedroom was causing all the ruckus in the neighborhood, and everyone would appreciate it very much if it would stop.

Oh, boys, I would if I could, but I can't so I won't!

All this brings to mind another time or two I've been disruptive and interfering. I went to a big fund raiser last night and the subject of my blog came up (I may, or may not have been the one bringing up the subject). I got to hear which posts were favorites, which posts made people sad, or happy, or feel touched, and then "the" post came up. The one where I got on my high horse about infidelity and how we still stone women for that.

For some reason people didn't appreciate that. Somehow they got the idea that I was pro adultery. Well, for the record, I am not pro adultery, but I am anti-stoning. A woman shared with me that she had two brothers-in-law that weren't speaking because one had cheated on his wife and the other didn't approve. She said something I'll never forget, "I think if he'd shot and killed someone, everyone would still be talking."

I just find that fascinating that we, as a culture, tolerate murder over adultery. Adultery certainly can murder a marriage - no question about it. Would that be a nicer way to look at it? Death? It's the betrayal aspect that hangs us up, that and the fear that it is contagious. We don't want our marriages to "get it" and by condemning it, we are inoculating ourselves.

Well, Roger and Chuck got the problem in my bedroom fixed, and now the neighborhood is happy again. Too bad they found me a hopeless cause.

"Through meditative techniques, one can free the mind of delusions and attain what we call enlightenment." H.H. the Dalai Lama

And since sleep is the best meditation, you can, theoretically, achieve enlighenment if you sleep enough! It's true, when you sleep you are not deluded, that's why our dreams can be so great or so scary - no delusions - the straight story. I'm telling you, People, you gotta write down your dreams! That's why the old expression, "Sleep on it," makes so much sense!

One more WOW (Word of Wisdom) from HH: "With love that is simply attachment, the slightest change in the object, such as a tiny change of attitude, immediately causes you to change. This is because your emotion is based on something very superficial. Take, for example, a new marriage. Often after a few weeks, months, or years the couple becomes enemies and finish up getting divorced. They married deeply in love - nobdoy marries with hatred - but after a short time everything changed. Why?"

Something to "sleep on!"

Dreamed Woohoo woke up and the bottom of her front tooth had broken off. I dug around in her bed and found the chunk, then couldn't remember the name of our dentist. I held the broken bit of tooth protectively, while scrambling for a new plan.


Percept Language: The Woohoo part of me woke up part of me. Her front tooth part of me broke off part of me. I dug aound in bed and found part of me. I held the broken part of me protectively, while scrambing for a new plan for part of me.

Yea. Kinda like that.

Generational Healing Workshop
Friday, February 1, 2008
9:00 AM - 5:00 PM
Portland, Oregon
$115.00/person - lunch included

We all embody a rage inheritance-the unresolved rage of our parents and ancestors that we carry forth out of an unconscious loyalty to them. With the insights from African indigenous wisdom and Family Constellations methodology, we reveal unconscious entanglements with the fates of family ancestors. In this work, we create a "knowing field" as we stand in for each other and decode this unconscious legacy, and in so doing, we learn how to:

Let go of habitual pain patterns.
Release long-standing traumas.
Be present to and enjoy the moment.
Expand perceptions of right and wrong.
Balance life.
Develop satisfying relationships.
Rest well in body, mind and spirit.
Embody satisfying and healing legacies.

In this profoundly intimate and experiential work, we experience the beauty and complexity of unconditional love. We discover how seeing, being, and honoring our past frees us to be powerful and genuine in our present-day relationships, lives, and service.

Ruth King, MA, a respected voice on transforming rage, is president of Bridges, Branches & Braidsan organization working with negative emotions in positive ways. She is the author of Healing Rage, Women Making Inner Peace Possible (Penguin, 2007) and the audio CD Soothing the Inner Flames of RageMeditations that Educate the Heart & Transform the Mind (BBB, 2007). King weaves Eastern and Western psychology, leadership development, systems theory, shamanism, metaphysics, meditation, and teachings from wisdom traditions to lecture, coach, and facilitate retreats that transform the emotional body and mind. For more information, visit http://healingrage.com.

1:1 coaching sessions (1 hr. each) with Ruth available Thursday, January 31st 12 - 5 PM or Sunday, February 3rd, 8:00 AM - 12 noon.

To reserve your spot, e-mail Carrie Link at:
fullycaffeinated@comcast.net

CHECK, CHECK!

I am DONE - done, totally done with my book, well not TOTALLY done, but I'm done WRITING it. Now for the editing. And the re-editing. And the editing it some more. But for now, for this moment, on this day I celebrate having WRITEN it! It is not the book I started off writing. It's a book about not writing the book I started off writing. It's the book I wrote when the book I thought I was going to write, would not be writen. Are you following all this?

Like with everything, I didn't end up where I thought I was going, but I got "there." "There" is already feeling like a place I want to be.

Today I celebrate being done.

Tomorrow I wake up and start all over again.

Another metaphor. They're starting to bug.

We (Rojo) are very interested (completely obsessed) with Boston College. We (I) don't know why we (Rojo) love BC Eagles so damn much but we (he) does.

He's "been" BC for weeks now, both football and basketball. He's the coach, band, refs, Boston College and the other team, too (always a college ending in the words, State University, so __SU). I am the scoreboard monitor and cheering section. While in my scoreboarding trance yesterday I noticed he has still not self-corrected two words he's been mispronouncing for years.

Offense = Odd Fence

Rebound = Re-butt

Then I realized the wisdom of what he was saying. To live life on the offense does indeed create an odd fence between you and the world around you. A rebound is nothing more than getting up off your butt and trying again.

Rojo strikes again.

Can't talk now - I've got a game needing a scorekeeper and cheering section.

WHERE I'M FROM

La La invited me to do this activity, and I'm really glad I did. Try it, you'll like it, hey Mikey!

WHERE I’M FROM

I am from whiskey and teachers, from scarred knees and willow trees.
I am from juniper, St. Thomas, milkshakes and Dunkin' Donuts.

I am from marriage and children, step-families and pearls.
I am from Eastwood and Reed, Uncle Sam and dogs named Kitty.

I am from hearing aids, chest walls, emphysema and jail.
I am from murder and babies, lies and omissions.

I am from college and masters and teaching the poor.
I am from flunking and passing, Bonzai plants and country fairs.

I am from Prineville and poverty, sororities and Ivy League.
I am from valleys and Catholics, Buddhists and BLTs.

I am from cages and braces, smoke and keys.
I am from acronyms, diagnoses, knowing and ignorance.

I am from homos and heteros, does and don'ts.
I am from intelligence to wisdom, from right to left.

PLUS


I walk into the salon Wednesday and am instantly greeted by Doug, Sue and Cindy, three darlings of Darling's Hair Salon.

"Oh! Look at your cute outfiit!" they say. So kind of them to say so, considering I am in workout clothes, hair hidden beneath a hat.

"You do NOT want to see what is under this hat!" I warn as they giggle graciously.

Doug with his psychic ability only equal to his hairstyling ability, takes a closer look at me and says, "Uh oh, what's the matter with you?"

"Oh, Doug, everything. I'm not OK, I'm really sad and everything is falling apart."

"Well, let's see what's going on," he says, removing my baseball cap and nearly gasping with the fright underneath. "Good Lord! Something is giving you grey hairs! What's going on?"

"I can't really talk about it, Doug, and besides, I don't understand it well enough myself to be able to explain it to you."

"Honey! You don't have to. Let me get a vibe."

With one hand on the nape of my head where the new grey hairs have taken hold, he closes his eyes and proceeds to tell me everything that is going on. Everything.

Doug, with his perfectly starched, yellow, Ralph Lauren oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up with precision, his glasses that are that special kind of crystal that is supposed to impress me, but doesn't because I can't even remember the name of it, his own buzzed head, picture of his "husband" on his cell phone screen, he knows. He knows everything.

Is Doug psychic or am I finally transparent? I stated as a goal for my "Power Year" to be transparent - to hold no secrets, to be completely open and vulnerable, what you see is what you get, no hidden agendas, no ulterior motives, as ego-less as humanly possible for those of us un-enlightened beings.

I'm pretty sure it's the former, I'm not at the end of that lofty goal, but I am further along with it than I was when I began in February. I am much better at not spinning a story in my favor. I am better at owning my own responsibility in matters of the heart and soul. I am also much, much more of a crier than I was in February. When the mask began to drop, so did the tears.

I can't quite get it up to a really good boo-hoo, but there are tears. Tears are truths. We cry when we are on to something. I'm on to something. So is Doug. And besides, I have a cute new haircut.

SHAKE YOUR BEAUTY

Extra busy morning at our house today, all four of us going in different directions, and Rojo sensed our prayer time might get cut from the line up. He pulls the chairs up to the table, gets out all the stuff, books, prayers, word-of-the-day, etc... and rings the gong, summoning us all to prayer.

"We're going to have a really quick one today," he tells us.

He grabs the word-of-the-day bag and pulls a word, "Synthesis!" he exclaims, "I had a dream about that last night! Can I choose another word? Please? Can I choose just one more word?"

"OK," Stan says, one eye on the clock, mindful we will all be late if this prayer time doesn't get wrapped up in the next 10 seconds.

"BEAUTY!" Rojo shrieks with delight, while breaking into song and dance.

"I had a dream about that last night, too! Shake your beauty - shake your beauty!"

We all shook our beauties, and none of us were even late.

TOP 10 SEXY THINGS MY HUSBAND HAS SAID RECENTLY
Subtitled, "Yes! You CAN teach an old dog new tricks!"

10. I bought you some doughtnuts, you're down to skin and bones.
9. I cleaned the toilet. You shouldn't have to be the only one that does that.
8. Why don't I take the kids over to my parents' house, let you have a little quiet time here.
7. I noticed we were low on Pellegrino, so I stopped by Trader Joe's and bought a case.
6. Rojo is studying Christopher Columbus - I found a book at his reading level, I thought I'd alternately read it with him each night when I put him to bed.
5. You're always the one to take Woohoo shopping, why don't I do it this time?
4. Why don't you make me a list of all the things around the house you'd like me to fix.
3. Is this the right amount of cream in your coffee? Here - let me get it and a spoon so you can make it just right.
2. Here - I'll unload your car for you, why don't you go on up and take a nap, you look tired.
1. You've never been more beautiful.