Observations

• Invisibility is only cool if you are really invisible and not just being treated like you are.
• Some people get to choose when they want to be considered mature, and when they want to hide behind the protective wall of childhood. Whether or not they take responsibility for their words and actions depends on which they choose at the moment. And this is totally acceptable with all those around them, so it has to be okay.
• Being a mom is the most challenging task I'll ever love.
• I have written at least a dozen novels. Unfortunately they are all still in my head.
• You can say, "All you need to do is ask" a million times, but you can't make them ask.
• Coerced validation is not validation, but concession.
• It's really too bad that I have to get old to learn so many important lessons.

The Dreamer is Out

Maybe "out" isn't quite the term to use. Maybe a better one would be
disillusioned
disappointed
sad
dismayed
deflated
disheartened
Just pick one. Any one of those will do.

I've whittled my Facebook "friends" list down from 780 to 325, with more coming off daily. Simplify doesn't just mean reducing clutter on the list; it also means removing stressful people and situations. I would expect others to remove me if I were stressing them out. I'm sure some already have. I'm good with that.

My daughter is being harassed on a less-well-known social networking site by our lovely (not) family stalkers. We know who they are, and I find it terribly sad that they can't seem to curb their obsession with our family. Whether it's out of jealousy or anger or envy or some combination, I don't know and I honestly don't care any more. I will be so glad when we move from this place, if only for that reason. At least we will have far less chance of ever running into them in public, and I'm hoping we can sever the online ties to them at some point as well. They've been pretty persistent, so that may take a while. Seems to me they should have better things to do with their time and energies. It's kind of creepy.

I am juggling a lot in my head and heart lately. I'm trying to figure out a way to word at least some of it, knowing that wording it takes some of the heaviness away. Reading Natalie Goldberg is certainly helping, which is ironic considering our diametrically opposing spiritual views. I have a great respect for her heart.

Sunday Morning In

Our church is over an hour away, and we couldn't make the haul this morning. So we are home, spending the morning relaxing and resting and being grateful to our amazing God for all of His blessings. I'm sipping my coffee with vanilla latte creamer, and Steve's will be ready for him when he emerges from our epically comfortable canopy bed. Maybe there will be some cool worship music later, but right now I'm enjoying the stillness of Sunday morning.

I finished reading Writing Down the Bones last week and picked up Thunder and Lightning - Cracking Open the Writer's Craft (both by Natalie Goldberg). Natalie and I are at opposite poles spiritually, but the woman has some pretty awesome ideas on writing. I think I could just go from one of her books to the next, and then start over again and still find things to inspire me as a writer. I'd call that the mark of an effective author.

I had a bit of a struggle yesterday with a discussion that happened at the Haus. It's just hard when you keep asking the same direct question over and over again, trying to reword it in case you were misunderstood, and you keep getting the same answer over and over that doesn't answer the question. I love the girls of the Haus so much, and wouldn't hurt any one of them for the world. I know they are each doing and saying what they feel is right so I'm not criticizing them--just explaining how excruciating it is for me to feel like I did last night. I went to bed more frustrated than I've felt in quite a long time. I'm glad that doesn't happen often. I am deeply grateful for some very dear friends who are helping me sort through it all. They know who they are.

It's sunny this morning. The Google weather thing says our high is supposed to get to 70, but I'm pretty sure there's something screwy with how they get their numbers; we never reach the highs they say we're supposed to reach. At least we have it better than our friends in North Dakota whose high isn't supposed to quite reach zero. I would just die. Not even kidding.

Life has been much less complicated since my 2011 "Simplify" theme took hold. I stopped tutoring, found a permanent home for the rescue Chihuahua we were fostering, and returned to full-time homeschooling our two remaining teens. I'm focusing on God and home and family and writing. These are pivotal days in our family, and writing helps me to sort through my thoughts and emotions and responses to it all. If Rosie is lucky, she will be out of the house before I hit menopause. Then poor Steve will be the only one who has to live with me through it. I have plenty of Evening Primrose Oil on hand, so hopefully I will be ready when it hits. Steve is the best friend I could ever imagine, so having him here with me is key.

Sometimes Facebook vexes me. It isn't just the social network, though. It's both a blessing and a curse to have such constant access to everyone's daily lives. It did help to whittle my "friends" list from 780 to 328--and I'm still whittling. Simplify.

The truth is, I am not looking forward to no longer having kids in the house. Neither is Steve. And it isn't because we don't know each other, don't have a relationship of our own to hold us up, or any of that hooey. It's because we love our children more than life and we LIKE them very much and want them around. We haven't really had "kids" in the house for a while now. They are mature far beyond their years. They are our best friends.

Currently Reading: A Writer's Book of Days

Finding it pretty interesting thus far. One common thread I've noticed in the past few books I've read is that it's okay, and even beneficial, to flit all over from one topic to another without much regard to cohesiveness when doing daily writing practicing and/or journal-keeping. Why isn't "journaling" a word? There should be a verb form of that word. Then again, there should be an adjective form of "integrity", too, but there isn't. That isn't right.

My coffee cup warmer is my friend. I keep forgetting I have it (okay, the truth is, it keeps getting buried as my desk gets messy and it's when I take a few minutes to tidy it that I uncover it and recall its benefit), but I am once again enjoying not popping up from my desk every ten minutes to warm my coffee in the microwave. This is much more convenient.

Cut

My friend got her "chemo cut" today. She took it like the trooper she is, sharing the experience with her two best friends and making it a day of friendship and celebration of life rather than one of loss and fear. I admire her. I feel a million things at once, and few of them are positive. I would like to think I would be as courageous and upbeat and hopeful as my friend in her shoes. I can't say for certain that I would.

Mama never got the chemo cut. She didn't get far enough down the Multiple Myeloma road to take it. She didn't want to walk that road, though. She was ready to go. She told me so. She was ready to see Gary and Grandpa Joe and be done with hospitals and tests and needles and injury and pain. I understood, but I wasn't ready to let go.

I get angry when I see or hear the C word. I hate it with a passion I can't describe. I'm glad I can't describe it. I don't want to give it energy or time or acknowledgment. I just want to hate it.

I'm glad my friend is filled with hope. I know that is the way to live. She is a better woman that I.

Too Quiet

Resurrecting a poem I wrote in 2004 when my boys were away on a trip.

Too Quiet

It's too quiet in here
No voice of boy, no smile of teen
The scene cries for the absence
Waits, expectant, like me
Like it would only be an hour to hope
Like it would only be an hour
I miss you

It's too quiet in here
No impish acts, no sticks in the house
The empty is me
Loves without limit or restraint
Like it will be only a while till you're here
Like it will only be a while
Come home

It's too quiet in here
No chocolate stains, no eyes on ice cream
The silence shatters glass
Reaches across the miles to where you are
Like it could only be a prayer and you'd appear
Like it could only be a prayer
It's quiet

Pushing Through

Finished Writing Down the Bones this morning. I've moved on to Bonni Goldberg's Room to Write. I've browsed through it before (much like I had WDTB) but haven't read it start to finish. I have far too many great books on the writing craft that have been sitting on my shelves unread. Off the top of my head:
Write It Down, Make It Happen
Damn! Why Didn't I Write That?
The Well-Fed Writer
The Artist's Way
Vein of Gold
The Sound of Paper
God Is No Laughing Matter
The Creative Call (I think I lent this one out)
You Can Write a Column
The Everything Book of Creative Writing (or something like that)
Writing From the Heart
When Memory Speaks
How to Write the Story of Your Life
Lists to Live By
Dancing Corn Dogs In the Night
The Pocket Muse
Families Writing
and those are just the ones that popped into my head. I know there are probably three times that many if not more. No wonder bookcases are taking over the house.

I didn't realize how much I had missed having time to write until Natalie Goldberg inspired me to get the pen (fingers) moving again. I found myself not wanting to finish WDTB because I didn't want it to end. I think she felt the same way when she finished writing it. I think I would've, too. I really like her writing style.