A Hah?

Oprah calls it an “Ah-hah Moment”. Others call it “hitting bottom”. Glenn Beck says that he can remember the exact moment when he experienced it. That moment is so clear to him, he can tell you what he was wearing, the color of the walls in the room, the color of the carpet.

It is that moment when you come face to face with the core of yourself. With who you have become. And it is the moment - that single defining moment – when you decide either to go on as that person, or become someone else. It is life changing, often life saving.

And sometimes it isn’t so dramatic as that.

I have problems. I’ve meticulously documented them here and in multiple personal journals, both digital and handwritten. There is a thread weaving through all of these personal documentaries… I am waiting. Literally, waiting… I am waiting and watching for that “Ah-hah” rock-bottom moment. Because it can’t be far off.

Problem is, I’ve been lead to believe, especially by the O herself, that along with that Ah-hah moment comes great enlightenment – the roadmap out of the problem, The Answer.

And I know there is no answer written out. I know that I have to find it myself.

And I’m so damned tired and discouraged that it’s entirely possible that I’ll be asleep or zoning on the computer and miss it.

New Adventure

Crazy busy these days, but I had time to start a new adventure...

I've pulled up a chair at Joy's table, and will be contributing to the conversation over there. It's a nice blog - always a great conversation happening with some really neat people.

Come check it out.

Good bye, Indy.

We loved you, and you will be missed.

Flat Spin

Watching “Top Gun” has made me an expert on fighter jets. And being the expert that I am, I know specialized terms like “flipping the bird”, and “flat spin”.

The “flat spin” is when the jet goes into, well, a flat spin – going around in circles, ever faster, as it spirals toward Earth, and ends in a fiery crash. According to Top Gun (and we all know what experts Hollywood filmmakers are), you can’t pull out of a flat spin, unless you’re Tom Cruise, or very, very lucky.

There are days when I feel like I’m in a Flat Spin. Days when Hot Rod is being stubborn, things are breaking right and left in the house, chores are piling up, and on top of everything else, I start thinking about being in a gilded cage.

So apparently, I’m in a Gilded Cage with wings, and it has somehow worked itself into a flat spin.

No wonder people think I’m nuts.

I keep trying to pull out of the spin. I rack my brains for ways to fix the problem. I recently came upon a good idea, and started putting it into action. The wheels have been moving very slowly, and what I first thought was GREAT NEWS, well, it turns out I may have been speaking prematurely, even though I wouldn’t say what it was, to avoid jinxing myself. I may have jinxed myself anyway. Spiral one, flat spin.

Two weeks ago, I thought of another “out” of one of my problems. So I took steps to make it so. Today, it fell through. Spiral two, and moving faster.

The garage door opener is still broken, I bought a new one, but haven’t replaced it yet. The door itself is broken, too, and I could only use duct tape to fix it. The furnace broke the other day, too. I can band-aid that, as well, but I don’t know how long that fix will last. I feel like this place is falling apart around me, a metaphor for my life.

I try to keep a positive attitude. I believe, with everything that I am, that attitude may not be everything, but it darn sure can’t hurt one bit. And it’s better to be positive about things. But it’s getting harder and harder to keep the proverbial “stiff upper lip”.

Of Cravings and Confusion

I’m thinking about cravings today. I have terrible cravings… for sweets, for crunchy/salty, for food of any kind. Yeah, I’m an emotional eater, and I’ve been under a lot of stress this week. Stress that’s making a black hole in my gut that just sucks in vile and disgusting foods that end up on my hips and on the scale and fail to nourish my body or my soul. I just keep dumping crap into the hole, and it never fills.

Sparky and I started discussing things. I don’t feel at liberty to say what was said between us, but let’s tag it with that line from, what, “Apocalypse Now”? (please correct me if I’m wrong)

“What we have here is a failure to communicate.”

Or a failure to communicate properly, because anyone who knows me, knows that I cannot keep my mouth shut for more than two minutes, unless I’m sleeping, and even then I’ve been known to mutter a few things.

Turns out that, for the better part of 15+ years, we thought we were thinking the same things, that we had the same goals, that we had the same vision of what marriage should be, and what we both needed to do to accomplish those goals and that marriage… Well … Apparently, not so much.

He thought this, I thought that. And there’s an ocean between the two viewpoints. And even though we talked about things, apparently, he was saying one thing to me, but had entirely different expectations. Turns out that the old myth about the woman expecting the man to read her mind was reversed in this case – he expected me to intuit things that he didn’t articulate.

And, to be fair, perhaps I was talking so much that I didn’t take a few minutes to say the right things, or to listen completely. Nobody is completely at fault here, and nobody is completely innocent.

But it makes me so very tired. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired because my brain is working overtime, trying to fix my own problems, trying to fix our problems, trying to keep up with the House that Murphy Built (or the Three Stooges, depending upon the day), trying to stay ahead of Hot Rod, who is wicked smart. I’m tired because I can’t exercise like I’d like to. I’m tired because I DON’T exercise like I should. I’m tired because I eat the wrong crap, and I eat the wrong crap because I crave it, and I crave it because it fills that emotional void. And that emotional void is there because my brain is tired.

There are days when I just want to pack up Hot Rod and the pets, and just run. Just go. Find a cabin somewhere and live the simple life. But then my overworked brain jumps in and says, “that wouldn’t be fair to Hot Rod”. And it wouldn’t.

So I stay put, and I keep plugging along, because that’s what I do. I stick. Whether out of loyalty, or fear, or even stupidity, I stick.

No wonder I’m such a fan of Golden Retrievers. We’re both loyal to a fault, and when all else fails, be silly. Too bad, I haven’t hit “silly” yet.

SEE LEO IN ACTION!

Leo has learned to fly!!!




(and yeah, that picture totally has nothing to do with it, but it cracks me up, so it stays)

The Guest

Hot Rod got off the bus today, with a big smile on his face and a giant yellow tote bag over his shoulder.

"Teddy's visiting today, Mom!" he said, and ran to show me.

"Teddy" is the Class Bear, and he travels home to spend one night with each student in the class. And today was Hot Rod's day.

He was to take care of Teddy, show him around, play with him, then read him a book and add a page to Teddy's Journal.

And so the adventure began...

He started by showing Teddy the seedlings that we planted over the weekend:




Then he showed him the bird feeders:




Then it was inside to read a book:




It was such a beautiful day today, that Hot Rod wanted to go outside and play baseball. So while we played, Teddy took a nap:




We came back in, and Teddy helped Hot Rod make a Lego Truck, while I made dinner:



After dinner, we had a little more playtime, so Hot Rod and Teddy played a little Hallway Golf (Hot Rod is helping Teddy "putt"):




Finally, it was time for Journal:




And Hot Rod's entry:



it says, "I throo Teddy up and down," and that's a drawing of Hot Rod, tossing the bear over his head.


Then the reading of The Book:

(I couldn't take a picture of this, as they were both crowded on my lap, along with Moose and Polar, Hot Rod's other bear)


And finally.... bedtime:



Hot Rod, Moose, Teddy, and Polar


Sweet Dreams!