And Now for the Rest of the Story
First you have to read the Celestine Prophesy Post before reading this one--I don't know how to move things around on my blog.
Well, we moved into this great sandstone house with wood floors, beam ceilings. It was two bedrooms, one bath, but beggers can't be choosy, and rent was only $50.00 a month. (long time ago). Well, it turned out the house was a duplex, and the other side of the house was the alcohol halfway house for the Res. The guys were all very nice, we were just warned not to give them cough medicine, alcohol wipes, or mouthwash if they asked, but other than that, they were cool.
The house we had been moved into had been the residence of the half-way house manager. He and a couple of his staff had gone to a conference in San Diego and "got lost", so while he was AWOL, they moved his furniture out of the house and moved us in. About two months later, he shows up at the door. I told him that all his stuff had been taken to his mom's house, and he left without a comment. Never saw him again.
Lots more stories about this house, but I will save them for another post.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
My Version of the Celestine Prophesy
I don't know how many of you guys have ever read any of the Celestine Prophesy Books, but I wanted to share one of those moments that afterward makes you think "hmm".
My first major job in Public Health was working for the San Bernardino County Health Department in California. I didn't stay long (culture shock of moving from a small southern town got to me quickly). However, while we were there, we kept visiting Arizona. We made a trip to the Grand Canyon and travelled through the Hopi Reservation. Now my experience with American Indians prior to that was a couple of trips to Cherokee, North Carolina. My exhusband (see previous post) and I were somehow drawn to the desolation and drama of the area. After growing up on the East Coast, Arizona is like an alien planet.
Well, when we had decided that we didn't belong in that West Coast Rat Race, I started scanning the LA Sunday times for jobs, when what should catch my eye? There was a job listing for a Health Educator for the Hopi Tribe, in Kyokotsmovi, Arizona. I sent my application in, not expecting to hear back. Yet, a couple of weeks later, I got a call asking if I could come out for an interview. So, we packed up the kids (just 2 at that time), jumped in our old VW Bug and drove to the "Res". The interview went well, and the health educator from Keams Canyon took us on a tour of the reservation.
Well, there aren't many trees out there, so as we were driving down Second Mesa, there were a few Cottonwoods by this old warehouse building, with a sandstone building across the street. We were informed that there was also a sacred spring, and right up the road were the "Corn Rocks".
I told my ex at the time--if I got the job and we moved to Hopi, I wanted to live in the stone building-with the trees.
Well, at the end of the interview they asked if I could bring a mobile home out with me if I got the job, because housing was very scarce. Me, just out of grad school, up to my neck in student loans--nah, if you don't have housing, I couldn't take the job.
So, we returned to California and figured that was that--
Well, two weeks later, I got a phone call--We have a house, will you take the job? My only question was "Indoor plumbing?", Yes it was, and I was moving to Arizona.
Well, they told me that they would have someone meet me at the Second Mesa Trading Post to take us to our new house. It was July--crossing the desert in a U-Haul pulling a volkswagon with two kids was loads of fun. As we pulled into Flagstaff, a thunderstorm came up and the temperature probably dropped 20 degrees.
We make it on over to the trading post and waited. Up on the top of the mesa, you could hear the Home Dance with the tortoise shell rattles echoing down to the folks pumping gas and buying grocieries. It was an amazing introduction to our new home.
A pick up truck pulls up and the couple inside motion for us to follow them. We started up the mesa, right up the same road that went by the trees, the sacred spring and the sandstone house. They pull into the driveway and indicate that this would be our home. The house I had seen during the interview, the one place with a few tall trees, and a sacred spring, just down from the Corn Rocks.
We lived there for 4 1/2 years. I have never been more aware of my ties with Mother Earth than my time on Hopi. It wasn't always easy, but some of my best memories still take me back in my mind's eye to that day and that house in the trees.
I don't know how many of you guys have ever read any of the Celestine Prophesy Books, but I wanted to share one of those moments that afterward makes you think "hmm".
My first major job in Public Health was working for the San Bernardino County Health Department in California. I didn't stay long (culture shock of moving from a small southern town got to me quickly). However, while we were there, we kept visiting Arizona. We made a trip to the Grand Canyon and travelled through the Hopi Reservation. Now my experience with American Indians prior to that was a couple of trips to Cherokee, North Carolina. My exhusband (see previous post) and I were somehow drawn to the desolation and drama of the area. After growing up on the East Coast, Arizona is like an alien planet.
Well, when we had decided that we didn't belong in that West Coast Rat Race, I started scanning the LA Sunday times for jobs, when what should catch my eye? There was a job listing for a Health Educator for the Hopi Tribe, in Kyokotsmovi, Arizona. I sent my application in, not expecting to hear back. Yet, a couple of weeks later, I got a call asking if I could come out for an interview. So, we packed up the kids (just 2 at that time), jumped in our old VW Bug and drove to the "Res". The interview went well, and the health educator from Keams Canyon took us on a tour of the reservation.
Well, there aren't many trees out there, so as we were driving down Second Mesa, there were a few Cottonwoods by this old warehouse building, with a sandstone building across the street. We were informed that there was also a sacred spring, and right up the road were the "Corn Rocks".
I told my ex at the time--if I got the job and we moved to Hopi, I wanted to live in the stone building-with the trees.
Well, at the end of the interview they asked if I could bring a mobile home out with me if I got the job, because housing was very scarce. Me, just out of grad school, up to my neck in student loans--nah, if you don't have housing, I couldn't take the job.
So, we returned to California and figured that was that--
Well, two weeks later, I got a phone call--We have a house, will you take the job? My only question was "Indoor plumbing?", Yes it was, and I was moving to Arizona.
Well, they told me that they would have someone meet me at the Second Mesa Trading Post to take us to our new house. It was July--crossing the desert in a U-Haul pulling a volkswagon with two kids was loads of fun. As we pulled into Flagstaff, a thunderstorm came up and the temperature probably dropped 20 degrees.
We make it on over to the trading post and waited. Up on the top of the mesa, you could hear the Home Dance with the tortoise shell rattles echoing down to the folks pumping gas and buying grocieries. It was an amazing introduction to our new home.
A pick up truck pulls up and the couple inside motion for us to follow them. We started up the mesa, right up the same road that went by the trees, the sacred spring and the sandstone house. They pull into the driveway and indicate that this would be our home. The house I had seen during the interview, the one place with a few tall trees, and a sacred spring, just down from the Corn Rocks.
We lived there for 4 1/2 years. I have never been more aware of my ties with Mother Earth than my time on Hopi. It wasn't always easy, but some of my best memories still take me back in my mind's eye to that day and that house in the trees.
Wishful Thinking
One of my wishful thoughts has been to get into the publishing world. I have what I think would be great ideas for books, and sometimes when I'm traveling, I make a mental note of the scenery and how I would make that part of my book.
I have had this one idea for the last ten years or so. It came from some of the scenes out west, when you are driving through New Mexico and Arizona. My plan was to drive to some of the old pueblo buildings that were still standing in different states of disrepair and take pictures of them. The Title of the book would be "Return to the Mother", but in Spanish (obviously I don't speak Spanish, or I would have translated it already). The story would be the development and use of adobe around the world, so of course I would have to travel to other countries that used adobe and take pictures there as well. I saw it as a coffee table book, big, glossy and heavy. But, somehow getting bills paid has to come first.
My other book idea would develop into a series. It would be a travelogue, again with lots of pictures. It would basically be the travels along the coastline of the United States, taking pictures of the little fishing towns, beaches and characters that reside there. I would start in Maine at Eastport, and travel down, around, and across to the West Coast, and then up to Washington. Once this one made it big, I would take the coast of South America, etc, etc.
I figure it would be the best of both worlds, I love to travel, I love the ocean, and I love "money". So, I guess one day, I will just have to find someone to pay me to travel, take pictures, and publish my books. Any takers?
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Far From the City of Brotherly Love
I got to make a quick trip to Philadelphia this week, the "City of Brotherly Love". I had been once before in the fall, and being in Philadelphia during a heat wave is an interesting proposition. Luckily, if you are downtown, you can walk through buildings sometimes to get to the next street, so I spent very little time outdoors. It was the news that was so disconcerting in Philadelphia. There have been 10 murders in the last 3-4 days, one being a taxi driver with four children. My taxi driver told of another story where the driver was held at gun point, but luckily wasn't shot.
There was an elderly woman who died in her house because she didn't want to turn on the fans or air conditioners because she was afraid she couldn't pay the electric bill. There were loads of people trying to sit outside because their row homes acted like convection ovens. Everyone seemed to be blaming everyone else. The mayor wanted to bring in more police and state troopers, the police chief wanted the city to raise the pay for the police so they could keep the policemen they have and possibly get more. All in all, a desperate situation, luckily with a short term end in site--a thunderstorm coming down from the north.
Not so for Atlanta, I got back to hear it had been 100 degrees today. I guess in the South we suppose that poor folks, and elderly folks have air conditioners and fans (as we sit in our air conditioned houses).
It's a sad world, not so full of "brotherly love". And then, I got an email from a friend of mine, who is in Sri Lanka working at an elephant orphanage. I want to include her story here because I think it says something that sometimes we forget. We are all in this together. Easy to say, hard to act on. Here is one example of selfless devotion to this thought.
Hope for rain and cooler temperatures.
I have now switched orphanages and I am now at an elephant orphanage for a week. What do I exactly do? The first thing in the morning I clean up, no lie, after 67 elephants who just ate---so yes, I scoop their poop for two hours! Thank God they are vegetarians; their dung is not so bad. Then I feed the baby elephants their bottle with human powder milk and later in the day give them their bath in the river. It is a sight to see 67 elephants stroll down through the bookshops and gift stores as they journey through town to get to the river.
Out of the 67 elephants, 3 of them are disabled. Raja the blind elephant, shot by poachers who also tore his eyes out and he still survived; Punjab with one ear that a hunter tore off; and Sama who accidentally stepped on a land mine and lost a whole foot. So when Sama journeys down the town threw the bookstores, you see her limp and hop to catch up with the rest. I washed Raja several times and he already knows me by my elephant dung smell and because I accidentally scrubbed his eyes (it's hard to tell where they are!). I have a special place in my heart for Sama; even though she is disabled, she feeds the baby elephants with her trunk. I have no problem cleaning her dung.
So yes, my main job description: elephant dung cleaner!
I got to make a quick trip to Philadelphia this week, the "City of Brotherly Love". I had been once before in the fall, and being in Philadelphia during a heat wave is an interesting proposition. Luckily, if you are downtown, you can walk through buildings sometimes to get to the next street, so I spent very little time outdoors. It was the news that was so disconcerting in Philadelphia. There have been 10 murders in the last 3-4 days, one being a taxi driver with four children. My taxi driver told of another story where the driver was held at gun point, but luckily wasn't shot.
There was an elderly woman who died in her house because she didn't want to turn on the fans or air conditioners because she was afraid she couldn't pay the electric bill. There were loads of people trying to sit outside because their row homes acted like convection ovens. Everyone seemed to be blaming everyone else. The mayor wanted to bring in more police and state troopers, the police chief wanted the city to raise the pay for the police so they could keep the policemen they have and possibly get more. All in all, a desperate situation, luckily with a short term end in site--a thunderstorm coming down from the north.
Not so for Atlanta, I got back to hear it had been 100 degrees today. I guess in the South we suppose that poor folks, and elderly folks have air conditioners and fans (as we sit in our air conditioned houses).
It's a sad world, not so full of "brotherly love". And then, I got an email from a friend of mine, who is in Sri Lanka working at an elephant orphanage. I want to include her story here because I think it says something that sometimes we forget. We are all in this together. Easy to say, hard to act on. Here is one example of selfless devotion to this thought.
Hope for rain and cooler temperatures.
I have now switched orphanages and I am now at an elephant orphanage for a week. What do I exactly do? The first thing in the morning I clean up, no lie, after 67 elephants who just ate---so yes, I scoop their poop for two hours! Thank God they are vegetarians; their dung is not so bad. Then I feed the baby elephants their bottle with human powder milk and later in the day give them their bath in the river. It is a sight to see 67 elephants stroll down through the bookshops and gift stores as they journey through town to get to the river.
Out of the 67 elephants, 3 of them are disabled. Raja the blind elephant, shot by poachers who also tore his eyes out and he still survived; Punjab with one ear that a hunter tore off; and Sama who accidentally stepped on a land mine and lost a whole foot. So when Sama journeys down the town threw the bookstores, you see her limp and hop to catch up with the rest. I washed Raja several times and he already knows me by my elephant dung smell and because I accidentally scrubbed his eyes (it's hard to tell where they are!). I have a special place in my heart for Sama; even though she is disabled, she feeds the baby elephants with her trunk. I have no problem cleaning her dung.
So yes, my main job description: elephant dung cleaner!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Sex Lies and Sales
Blogging has been an interesting experience. Sometimes I delete things I've written, because once I have written it and gotten the emotion out of my system, I don't seem to need it there anymore.
I have been trying to look at other blogs to see what people are writing, and it is an amazing jumble of sex, lies, and people selling stuff. I am sure there must be a better way of finding blogs that you can relate to, but obviously not by clicking on "next blog". Some blogs need an X rating, stuff I would rather not see pop up on my screen. Some blogs take away all the navigation, and you have to click back, then click next blog to make your way to something else.
I've left some comments on other people's blogs, but other than one person, no one seems to reciprocate. Maybe I need to write about sex, lies, or I need to sell something.
Another reason I have deleted a few things from my blog is that I have shown a couple of my friends at work, and I'm afraid that next thing you know, somebody that I've been complaining about will end up on my blog, so I will try to stay more positive, find some jokes to report, make up some lies (just kidding), and yes, I do have a bunch of junk in my garage that maybe I should sell.
So, after another hot one in Atlanta, may your sex be fulfilling, your lies be carefully constructed, and your sales skyrocket.
I did find an interesting joke:
The Old Poodle
A wealthy old lady decides to go on a photo safari in Africa, taking her faithful aged poodle named Cuddles, along for the company.
One day the poodle starts chasing butterflies and before long, Cuddles discovers that she's lost. Wandering about, she notices a leopard heading rapidly in her direction with the intention of having lunch.
The old poodle thinks, "Oh, oh! I'm in deep shit now!" Noticing some bones on the ground close by, she immediately settles down to chew on the bones with her back to the approaching cat. Just as the leopard is about to leap, the old poodle exclaims loudly, "Boy, that was one delicious leopard! I wonder if there are any more around here?" Hearing this, the young leopard halts his attack in mid-strike, a look of terror comes over him and he slinks away into the trees. "Whew!", says the leopard, "That was close! That old poodle nearly had me!"
Meanwhile, a monkey who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for
protection from the leopard. So off he goes, but the old poodle sees
him heading after the leopard with great speed, and figures that something must be up. The monkey soon catches up with the leopard, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the leopard.
The young leopard is furious at being made a fool of and says, "Here, monkey, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine!"
Now, the old poodle sees the leopard coming with the monkey on his back and thinks, "What am I going to do now?", but instead of running, the dog sits down with her back to her attackers, pretending she hasn't seen them yet, and just when they get close enough to hear, the old poodle
says: "Where's that damn monkey? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another leopard!"
Moral of this story..
Don't mess with old farts...age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill! Bullshit and brilliance only come with age and experience!
Nancy
Blogging has been an interesting experience. Sometimes I delete things I've written, because once I have written it and gotten the emotion out of my system, I don't seem to need it there anymore.
I have been trying to look at other blogs to see what people are writing, and it is an amazing jumble of sex, lies, and people selling stuff. I am sure there must be a better way of finding blogs that you can relate to, but obviously not by clicking on "next blog". Some blogs need an X rating, stuff I would rather not see pop up on my screen. Some blogs take away all the navigation, and you have to click back, then click next blog to make your way to something else.
I've left some comments on other people's blogs, but other than one person, no one seems to reciprocate. Maybe I need to write about sex, lies, or I need to sell something.
Another reason I have deleted a few things from my blog is that I have shown a couple of my friends at work, and I'm afraid that next thing you know, somebody that I've been complaining about will end up on my blog, so I will try to stay more positive, find some jokes to report, make up some lies (just kidding), and yes, I do have a bunch of junk in my garage that maybe I should sell.
So, after another hot one in Atlanta, may your sex be fulfilling, your lies be carefully constructed, and your sales skyrocket.
I did find an interesting joke:
The Old Poodle
A wealthy old lady decides to go on a photo safari in Africa, taking her faithful aged poodle named Cuddles, along for the company.
One day the poodle starts chasing butterflies and before long, Cuddles discovers that she's lost. Wandering about, she notices a leopard heading rapidly in her direction with the intention of having lunch.
The old poodle thinks, "Oh, oh! I'm in deep shit now!" Noticing some bones on the ground close by, she immediately settles down to chew on the bones with her back to the approaching cat. Just as the leopard is about to leap, the old poodle exclaims loudly, "Boy, that was one delicious leopard! I wonder if there are any more around here?" Hearing this, the young leopard halts his attack in mid-strike, a look of terror comes over him and he slinks away into the trees. "Whew!", says the leopard, "That was close! That old poodle nearly had me!"
Meanwhile, a monkey who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for
protection from the leopard. So off he goes, but the old poodle sees
him heading after the leopard with great speed, and figures that something must be up. The monkey soon catches up with the leopard, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the leopard.
The young leopard is furious at being made a fool of and says, "Here, monkey, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine!"
Now, the old poodle sees the leopard coming with the monkey on his back and thinks, "What am I going to do now?", but instead of running, the dog sits down with her back to her attackers, pretending she hasn't seen them yet, and just when they get close enough to hear, the old poodle
says: "Where's that damn monkey? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another leopard!"
Moral of this story..
Don't mess with old farts...age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill! Bullshit and brilliance only come with age and experience!
Nancy
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Spring In Atlanta
Ah for another few days like these
Spring in Atlanta is an amazing time. It is a constant panorama of color, changing week to week. It starts with the camelias,bradford pears,ornamental cherries, daffodils, tulips, iris,azaleas, the assortment of roses, and on into summer. I love the multiple shades of green of the budding trees, the blue sky much like out west before the haze turns it grey, and the temperatures that welcome you outside. Out west, we spent a great deal of time outside, even in the winter with cross-country skiing, etc. In Atlanta, we get spring and fall to be outside. Winter is often rainy and grey, and summer is hot, humid, and buggy. But I have got to say, the colors here are amazing.
Ah for another few days like these
Spring in Atlanta is an amazing time. It is a constant panorama of color, changing week to week. It starts with the camelias,bradford pears,ornamental cherries, daffodils, tulips, iris,azaleas, the assortment of roses, and on into summer. I love the multiple shades of green of the budding trees, the blue sky much like out west before the haze turns it grey, and the temperatures that welcome you outside. Out west, we spent a great deal of time outside, even in the winter with cross-country skiing, etc. In Atlanta, we get spring and fall to be outside. Winter is often rainy and grey, and summer is hot, humid, and buggy. But I have got to say, the colors here are amazing.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Where Have All the Flowers Gone
The funny thing about flowers is that I never grew flowers until I met my present husband. Before that time, I was totally into growing vegetables, useful things that I could feed my family with. I thought that flowers were for the weak, the rich (who had money for flowers), and not for me. I was the practical one, who canned, and picked, and stewed, and jellied. I'm not sure where that came from, because my Grandmother had a wonderful vegetable garden, but had tons of flowers, which she would allow me to pick to bring into the house. We still had to pick beans, compost the tomatoes, pick off the horn worms etc, but she always had the roses, gladiolas, petunias, hollyhocks, and several others, including mint growing right outside the patio door. I spent a year living with my grandmother when my Dad was overseas, so I got really into the gardening scene.
My best garden was in Nevada. Our back yard was big enough to be a small used car lot, so my ex-husband borrowed a tractor, tilled it up, and we planted corn, beans, melons, tomatoes, squash, and even eggplant (which no one would eat). We did have sunflowers which grew to be over 13 feet tall. We had so many squash-butternut, acorn and spagetti, that we couldn't even give them away. I even grew enough pumpkins for each kid (4) to have their own pumpkin to decorate for Halloween.
But it wasn't until I got remarried, and we got our first house together that I started my adventure into flowers, and now, my kids call me a "plantaholic". I have my veggies in the back of the yard, but I've got flowers everywhere else. I've also tried to tie it together to flowers/plants that I have gotten from other people, not just bought ones. I have althea and cannas from my uncle's house who has passed, day lillies and irises from old homesteads that were out in the middle of nowhere(my husband is an archeologist), and several other plants that came from somewhere, so bring their history with them. We also have a wonderful botanical garden in Atlanta so I can go hang out there whenever I can't get enough flowers and plants at home.
Hope you like this small albumn
Happy Wednesday
The funny thing about flowers is that I never grew flowers until I met my present husband. Before that time, I was totally into growing vegetables, useful things that I could feed my family with. I thought that flowers were for the weak, the rich (who had money for flowers), and not for me. I was the practical one, who canned, and picked, and stewed, and jellied. I'm not sure where that came from, because my Grandmother had a wonderful vegetable garden, but had tons of flowers, which she would allow me to pick to bring into the house. We still had to pick beans, compost the tomatoes, pick off the horn worms etc, but she always had the roses, gladiolas, petunias, hollyhocks, and several others, including mint growing right outside the patio door. I spent a year living with my grandmother when my Dad was overseas, so I got really into the gardening scene.
My best garden was in Nevada. Our back yard was big enough to be a small used car lot, so my ex-husband borrowed a tractor, tilled it up, and we planted corn, beans, melons, tomatoes, squash, and even eggplant (which no one would eat). We did have sunflowers which grew to be over 13 feet tall. We had so many squash-butternut, acorn and spagetti, that we couldn't even give them away. I even grew enough pumpkins for each kid (4) to have their own pumpkin to decorate for Halloween.
But it wasn't until I got remarried, and we got our first house together that I started my adventure into flowers, and now, my kids call me a "plantaholic". I have my veggies in the back of the yard, but I've got flowers everywhere else. I've also tried to tie it together to flowers/plants that I have gotten from other people, not just bought ones. I have althea and cannas from my uncle's house who has passed, day lillies and irises from old homesteads that were out in the middle of nowhere(my husband is an archeologist), and several other plants that came from somewhere, so bring their history with them. We also have a wonderful botanical garden in Atlanta so I can go hang out there whenever I can't get enough flowers and plants at home.
Hope you like this small albumn
Happy Wednesday
Monday, July 10, 2006
Those Moments that Stop Your Heart
Today was one of those moments that you absolutely hate, the phone call of disaster. I had been at work a couple of hours when my daughter (the one with the blog) called. She was taking my grandson (along with her other three kids) to the ER. A telivision in the bedroom had fallen on top of him, and he couldn't seem to stand up.
My heart was in my throat, and all I could say was, "I'm on my way". So, I jumped in my car and made the fastest trip up to the ER that I have ever made. I got there to see my grandaughter (almost 9 going on 15) and my grandson (5, going on 5) in the waiting room. The clerk indicated where my daughter was with my grandson(17 months) and his sister (17 months). My granddaughter had just had a bad trip to the doctor(blood tests, etc), so she was in the exam room crying and my grandson was just sitting there looking like no big deal.
I took my granddaughter out to the waiting room with the other two, and we waited about 40 minutes before they took him for X-rays. And, then as usual, another 40 minutes or so (luckily the ER was not busy at all) before the doctor called me back in, to let us all know that it looked like bruising but no breaks. What a relief.
My daughter and her kids have been living with me for the last 15 months. You remember how crazy you were about your kids when they were small (as adults, ah, not so much--just kidding), but I was there with my daughter when the twins were born. I had gone in to be there with my daughter, but after they wrapped the firstborn (the boy) up, they handed him to me (my daughter had a c-section, so was not holding anything at the time) and then, after the girl was born, and wrapped, they handed her to me too. I was sitting there saying, "Heh, I'm here for my daughter". The nurse's response was, "Heh, get used to it Grandma". And ever since that time, I have been enamored of the two. (Of course I love my other two grandchildren-and I was in the delivery room with my daughter when her first son was born), but somehow, having them so close by, watching them grow, being a part of their lives has been magnificent. Even if my house seems small with all these folks, it has been worth it.
So, the week that I was going to start with a WOW, started with a POW.
Happy Monday.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
The Power of Words
I should have gotten up and written my thoughts last night when I couldn't go to sleep, but I figured maybe I should sleep on them or not sleep on them as it turned out. Here was the situation. My daughter has a blog, and she is an excellent writer, and she wanted me to read one of her posts. Well, let's just say her posts are much more provocative than mine-heh, somethings are better forgotten. And, some of her posts are things that happened to her as a teenager (I don't know where I was, because I sure didn't know about a lot of the stuff she writes about). Well, one of them made me uncomfortable, and words were said (I hate that it is so much easier to say stupid things when you are upset or angry-why doesn't something just make your mouth stay closed).
Then, because I was upset, mostly with myself, I started in on my husband, who has the same disease of the mouth that I do, and he said some things, and I said some things, and for one of the first times ever, we went to bed somewhat mad at each other. All because of a few words, written on a blog.
Well, I'm learning, gotta realize the past is the past-there is nothing I can do to change it but learn from it, and learn to be the supportive person I want to be. There are just so many buttons that people can push.
One of my other buttons is that when something uncomfortable happens, I want it done with, and go on, FIDO (Forget about it, Drive On). A couple of members of my family seen to want to drag things out, keep dealing with the situation, it drives me crazy. I've been reading some stuff about Tom Peters, and he said at 61 he went to Canyon Ranch and finally really learned to breathe. I guess that's what I need, to stop holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to fall, stop thinking life is a roller coaster, and just breathe.
So, my goal for this next week is to Breathe, put some WOW in my life, and have some fun. (too bad I have to go to work!)
Nancy
Friday, July 07, 2006
Psychology at Home and at Work-Need Your Help
Psychology is such an interesting subject, trying to figure out how to work best with your co-workers, family members, how to get ahead, stay out of trouble, have fun, and survive the day to day traumas of the "real world".
Well, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to deal with a co-worker who portrays themselves as a victim to get what they want. I started researching stuff about victims, but had a hard time finding out how to stop someone from playing that victim role with you to get sympathy. I finally found something that talked about these people, and that they are really covertly agressive (lots of jargon), and that they prey on the fact that most people don't want to be thought of as hard, unsympathetic, etc.
I guess my issue is why do we have to work so hard at this? Why can't people be straight up and say, "I want to do this my way", and then we could discuss what the other options could be. Why is there so little compromise with some people? Did some people get stuck in the me-centric phase and never get to the point that they can see things from someone else's perspective?
It's all very strange. It's like competition. In most cases, it's not about winning and losing, but some people make it that way, they want to win, at any cost. What about everybody winning.
When my kids were little I was always trying to get them to see the compromise position. Easier said than done. My ex-husband didn't believe in compromise-it was his way or no way. He even told me one time, "Why don't you just agree with me". I told him that if he wanted a "yes" wife he had definitely married the wrong person. (Guess that's why he is my Ex). The bottom line is that we are all in this together, moving towards a common goal of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. If we have to stand on someone's head and push them down into the mud to get there, is that happiness? If we can be happy and make others happy with us, doesn't that compound the happiness?
Well, if anyone has any ideas on how to stop somebody from using the victim role to get their way, I would greatly appreciate your suggestions.
Happy Friday
Psychology is such an interesting subject, trying to figure out how to work best with your co-workers, family members, how to get ahead, stay out of trouble, have fun, and survive the day to day traumas of the "real world".
Well, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to deal with a co-worker who portrays themselves as a victim to get what they want. I started researching stuff about victims, but had a hard time finding out how to stop someone from playing that victim role with you to get sympathy. I finally found something that talked about these people, and that they are really covertly agressive (lots of jargon), and that they prey on the fact that most people don't want to be thought of as hard, unsympathetic, etc.
I guess my issue is why do we have to work so hard at this? Why can't people be straight up and say, "I want to do this my way", and then we could discuss what the other options could be. Why is there so little compromise with some people? Did some people get stuck in the me-centric phase and never get to the point that they can see things from someone else's perspective?
It's all very strange. It's like competition. In most cases, it's not about winning and losing, but some people make it that way, they want to win, at any cost. What about everybody winning.
When my kids were little I was always trying to get them to see the compromise position. Easier said than done. My ex-husband didn't believe in compromise-it was his way or no way. He even told me one time, "Why don't you just agree with me". I told him that if he wanted a "yes" wife he had definitely married the wrong person. (Guess that's why he is my Ex). The bottom line is that we are all in this together, moving towards a common goal of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. If we have to stand on someone's head and push them down into the mud to get there, is that happiness? If we can be happy and make others happy with us, doesn't that compound the happiness?
Well, if anyone has any ideas on how to stop somebody from using the victim role to get their way, I would greatly appreciate your suggestions.
Happy Friday
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Getting Traffic To Your Blog
I'm not sure why I want traffic to my blog--I guess, it would just be nice to see someone comment good or bad about my wanderings, so here are some words that supposedly help generate traffic. Sorry for any misguidance.
Adding these words may help attract some traffic: The One Percent Doctrine Ron Susk..., Martin Taylor, Clay Aiken, World Cup, Myspace, Tamara Hoover, Singapore, Supernova. Of course I don't know how to hotlink these things to my blog, but so it goes.
Of course I won't know whether you came or not, but if you do, at least say hello before you leave.
I'm not sure why I want traffic to my blog--I guess, it would just be nice to see someone comment good or bad about my wanderings, so here are some words that supposedly help generate traffic. Sorry for any misguidance.
Adding these words may help attract some traffic: The One Percent Doctrine Ron Susk..., Martin Taylor, Clay Aiken, World Cup, Myspace, Tamara Hoover, Singapore, Supernova. Of course I don't know how to hotlink these things to my blog, but so it goes.
Of course I won't know whether you came or not, but if you do, at least say hello before you leave.
The Mother of Inventions:
It always amazes me the things that happen that just make you want to say, why me? It's not big things or dangerous things, but just those kinds of things that make you crazy. One of those things happened to me this weekend. I went to spend part of the Fourth holiday with my Mom. (My Dad died in November, and my Mom has had to get used to being on her own after 60 years of marriage). We decided that since we wouldn't be at her house for the holiday (I had to come back to go to work), we decided to host the other families on the mountain for dinner. So, we got organized, started early while it was cool, and tried to get as much ready as possible. We were doing really well until my Mom decided to put the pans of rolls on the back of the stove to rise. Needless to say, you know what happened. One of the pans somehow, fell behind the stove. Now this is a stove that hasn't been moved in probably 20 years, so it would have taken a crow bar to get it moved forward to get that pan out, and we couldn't leave the pan and dough back there, (mouse problems). Access to the back of the stove was complicated by the fact that there was a cabinet above the stove. My first thought was to get a coat hanger (the answer to so many problems) and try to snag the pan with the dough still in it. Of course this wasn't working very well. Then I remembered that I had gotten my Dad a thing for picking things up off the floor or from high places (he had a hard time bending over). So, I was able to snag the pan (of course the dough fell out) and then snag the dough (luckily it held together in a big ball), and retrieve the item from behind the stove. Of course I have the black and blue marks on my arm from forcing it down in the space behind the stove. I couldn't convince my Mom to keep the dough (just kidding). So it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut would say, Here I am cleaning the ... off of everything.
It always amazes me the things that happen that just make you want to say, why me? It's not big things or dangerous things, but just those kinds of things that make you crazy. One of those things happened to me this weekend. I went to spend part of the Fourth holiday with my Mom. (My Dad died in November, and my Mom has had to get used to being on her own after 60 years of marriage). We decided that since we wouldn't be at her house for the holiday (I had to come back to go to work), we decided to host the other families on the mountain for dinner. So, we got organized, started early while it was cool, and tried to get as much ready as possible. We were doing really well until my Mom decided to put the pans of rolls on the back of the stove to rise. Needless to say, you know what happened. One of the pans somehow, fell behind the stove. Now this is a stove that hasn't been moved in probably 20 years, so it would have taken a crow bar to get it moved forward to get that pan out, and we couldn't leave the pan and dough back there, (mouse problems). Access to the back of the stove was complicated by the fact that there was a cabinet above the stove. My first thought was to get a coat hanger (the answer to so many problems) and try to snag the pan with the dough still in it. Of course this wasn't working very well. Then I remembered that I had gotten my Dad a thing for picking things up off the floor or from high places (he had a hard time bending over). So, I was able to snag the pan (of course the dough fell out) and then snag the dough (luckily it held together in a big ball), and retrieve the item from behind the stove. Of course I have the black and blue marks on my arm from forcing it down in the space behind the stove. I couldn't convince my Mom to keep the dough (just kidding). So it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut would say, Here I am cleaning the ... off of everything.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Fourth of July
As the Fourth approaches, it makes me think back to the many Fourth of July events, parties, gatherings, fireworks, etc, that I have participated in. It always seemed to include watermelon, home made ice cream, and usually nature's fireworks of a thunderstorm. Growing up in the south, there were always watermelon seed spitting contests, sunburns, over done hot dogs and underdone hamburgers. There was usually potato salad that set out on the table for hours(it's amazing we still survived), chips that got soggy with the humidity, and wilted pickles. Fire work displays were from the very simple (sparklers), to the very complex. I will never forget 1976 and the bicentennial celebrations (of course I watched them on TV), the tall ships, flipping channels to catch all of the different fire works shows across the country. One of my friends in New Mexico traded work on a hot tub for a ton of fireworks that they lit in their field, while they were half drunk (another survival story). But the Fourth I remember the most was the time we spent in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. We were on vacation out west and were headed to Yellowstone and the Tetons. I had been reading a book written by archeologists about Chaco Canyon, and I was determined I wanted to go. My husband, who is an archeologist had been to Chaco many times, but I persuaded him to drive the 27 miles of washboard dirt road to take me to Chaco. We were one family of about 20 at the campground. It was so still, no fireworks, no parties, just experiencing the history and the lives of those that had gone before. I don't think I have ever seen so many stars. The only sound was the lone coyote, the breeze, and the whisperings of the families that had gone before. In our celebration of the freedom of this country, I hope that some of us remember the freedom that was taken from those that lived here first.
As the Fourth approaches, it makes me think back to the many Fourth of July events, parties, gatherings, fireworks, etc, that I have participated in. It always seemed to include watermelon, home made ice cream, and usually nature's fireworks of a thunderstorm. Growing up in the south, there were always watermelon seed spitting contests, sunburns, over done hot dogs and underdone hamburgers. There was usually potato salad that set out on the table for hours(it's amazing we still survived), chips that got soggy with the humidity, and wilted pickles. Fire work displays were from the very simple (sparklers), to the very complex. I will never forget 1976 and the bicentennial celebrations (of course I watched them on TV), the tall ships, flipping channels to catch all of the different fire works shows across the country. One of my friends in New Mexico traded work on a hot tub for a ton of fireworks that they lit in their field, while they were half drunk (another survival story). But the Fourth I remember the most was the time we spent in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. We were on vacation out west and were headed to Yellowstone and the Tetons. I had been reading a book written by archeologists about Chaco Canyon, and I was determined I wanted to go. My husband, who is an archeologist had been to Chaco many times, but I persuaded him to drive the 27 miles of washboard dirt road to take me to Chaco. We were one family of about 20 at the campground. It was so still, no fireworks, no parties, just experiencing the history and the lives of those that had gone before. I don't think I have ever seen so many stars. The only sound was the lone coyote, the breeze, and the whisperings of the families that had gone before. In our celebration of the freedom of this country, I hope that some of us remember the freedom that was taken from those that lived here first.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Digital Cameras
So, I don't know how many of you have made the plunge and bought a digital camera, but my husband decided I was borrowing his too much, so I got one as a Christmas present a couple of years ago. The problem with digital cameras is that since you don't always pay to print the pictures, you keep taking the same picture over and over, trying to get it just right. This is probably my fourth rendition of this picture at the botanical gardens in Atlanta, and I still haven't gotten what I want from it. It gets a little frustrating. If you had to pay for the prints, you take it once, figure out you don't know what you are doing, and give up. This digital business means you try again, and again to try to get it just the way you want. The bottom line is you start thinking you are a "photographer" instead of a picture taker. I need to realize, I take pictures to capture a memory, not sell a picture. I need to learn to take what I get and be happy, it was the memory at the moment. And, unless you are Ansel Adams or some other famous photographer, who invests tons more time, effort, and equipment into the process-who would want it other than me anyway. So for those of us still trying to capture that one magic moment on film or digital, keep trying, the great thing is you can hit delete and try again, or until they close the gates and run you out.
So, I don't know how many of you have made the plunge and bought a digital camera, but my husband decided I was borrowing his too much, so I got one as a Christmas present a couple of years ago. The problem with digital cameras is that since you don't always pay to print the pictures, you keep taking the same picture over and over, trying to get it just right. This is probably my fourth rendition of this picture at the botanical gardens in Atlanta, and I still haven't gotten what I want from it. It gets a little frustrating. If you had to pay for the prints, you take it once, figure out you don't know what you are doing, and give up. This digital business means you try again, and again to try to get it just the way you want. The bottom line is you start thinking you are a "photographer" instead of a picture taker. I need to realize, I take pictures to capture a memory, not sell a picture. I need to learn to take what I get and be happy, it was the memory at the moment. And, unless you are Ansel Adams or some other famous photographer, who invests tons more time, effort, and equipment into the process-who would want it other than me anyway. So for those of us still trying to capture that one magic moment on film or digital, keep trying, the great thing is you can hit delete and try again, or until they close the gates and run you out.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Ghost stories:
Do you believe in ghosts? I have had several ghost encounters over my life, but the strangest of them all happened just recently in my house. We had always had that fleeting glimps of something just out of site that would move around in the living room, but had never really thought anything about it until my daughter came and told us of her encounter with a ghost cat. I had never heard of animal ghosts, but a little research showed that it is more common than one would imagine. Well, the gist of her story was that she was lying on the couch with her face to the back of the couch (she has migraines), when this ghost cat jumped up on the couch, she could feel it walking, and then heard a sick sounding purr close to her ear. She was so scared, she couldn't move anything. It then jumped up to the back of the couch, and disappeared. She was really freaked by it. I didn't think that much about it until one night I was babysitting for her and was lying on her bed when I felt something jump up on the bed, and I could hear a breathing sound. I had read that one thing you could do to get rid of ghost animals is to tell them to leave, so I told it in a loud whisper (didn't want to wake the kiddos) that it was not wanted at our house and that it should leave. As I told it to leave, the curtains moved, and we haven't seen it since. Strange stuff.
(if you are ever interested in hearing my other ghost stories, just let me know)
Cars
It's funny how cars work in my family. It seems like we trade them down through the family until finally somebody does it in. My parents gave me their 1968 volkswagon way back when, which I drove forever--not even sure what happened to that one. My parents gave me their old white ford aerostar-extended, which my husband drove to work until we gave it to my son, who took it and wrecked it. My oldest son got a car that he sold to my daughter who sold it to my youngest son for babysitting. I gave my son my suzuki sidekick, which he tore up and then finally sold, and now I'm giving him my suzuki esteem, but I'm already mourning it. It's been a great little car, and even though I wouldn't want to be in an accident with it, it has gotten me to and from work for the last 3 years. But, he needs a car, and I'd rather him not have to go into debt to buy a car, make payments, etc. Funny how we can get so attached to inanimate objects like cars. I never gave my car a name, but I've tried to keep it clean, and take relatively good care of it. The other part of giving away a car is trying to find one to replace it. Looking for good used cars is harder than finding a good man. Either way, they usually tell you lots of lies about how they run, and they try to cover up their imperfections. However, once you find a good used car, you can usually get a few good years out of them. That's not always the way with a man. (not me, I've got a good one and he's been running well for the past 12 years, but I hear stories. I lucked out when I met my present husband, I met all of his family, and when I saw how much they wanted to keep him for themselves, I figured he must be worth something. So Happy Sunday.
It's funny how cars work in my family. It seems like we trade them down through the family until finally somebody does it in. My parents gave me their 1968 volkswagon way back when, which I drove forever--not even sure what happened to that one. My parents gave me their old white ford aerostar-extended, which my husband drove to work until we gave it to my son, who took it and wrecked it. My oldest son got a car that he sold to my daughter who sold it to my youngest son for babysitting. I gave my son my suzuki sidekick, which he tore up and then finally sold, and now I'm giving him my suzuki esteem, but I'm already mourning it. It's been a great little car, and even though I wouldn't want to be in an accident with it, it has gotten me to and from work for the last 3 years. But, he needs a car, and I'd rather him not have to go into debt to buy a car, make payments, etc. Funny how we can get so attached to inanimate objects like cars. I never gave my car a name, but I've tried to keep it clean, and take relatively good care of it. The other part of giving away a car is trying to find one to replace it. Looking for good used cars is harder than finding a good man. Either way, they usually tell you lots of lies about how they run, and they try to cover up their imperfections. However, once you find a good used car, you can usually get a few good years out of them. That's not always the way with a man. (not me, I've got a good one and he's been running well for the past 12 years, but I hear stories. I lucked out when I met my present husband, I met all of his family, and when I saw how much they wanted to keep him for themselves, I figured he must be worth something. So Happy Sunday.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
TravelTravelling is one of those things that make getting through the weeks and weeks of work worthwile. It's just too bad I don't have a rich uncle to leave me some funds for only traveling, but so it goes. Our travel has been a little different than many because we both love being out in the middle of nowhere--no restaurants, no theater, just a place to bunk, a grill to cook on, a stream or river to fish in, etc. etc. We've had some great adventures, including Homer Alaska, Yellowstone, Glacier, Nova Scotia, the Olympic Peninsula in Washington and others.
Blogging for Fun
It seems like everyone else in my family has a blog, so I figured it was time to see what this new way of communicating was all about. I spend my day in front of a computer, answering email, so I'm not sure why I would want to do anything that was similar to what I already do. But, here it goes. People may wonder why I called my blog "Stranded in Atlanta". Well, until seven years ago, I lived in "heaven", Santa Fe, New Mexico. My work was 2 miles from my house and there was an award winning brew pub half way between the two. I loved the mountains, trails within three miles of my house, and more museums than you can shake a stick at. Then, for some crazy reason, I transferred to Atlanta, and looks like I'm here till retirement.
The funny thing is, I was born in Georgia, and lived here some as a kid, but as soon as I could escape Georgia and South Carolina, I was gone to California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Nevada. Did a stint on the Hopi Reservation, but that will be another story.
So for now, I will start by welcoming anyone who happens to drop by, to take your shoes off and set a spell, leave a message, and come on back again.
The funny thing is, I was born in Georgia, and lived here some as a kid, but as soon as I could escape Georgia and South Carolina, I was gone to California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Nevada. Did a stint on the Hopi Reservation, but that will be another story.
So for now, I will start by welcoming anyone who happens to drop by, to take your shoes off and set a spell, leave a message, and come on back again.
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