Taking the Bully by the Horns

My dear friend Audrey has given me wonderful advice about this blog. She told me to just start writing. The right words will come. Everyone needs a fabulous writer as her mentor! I just happen to be so lucky. I am getting ready to go walk on this beautiful morning, but I have had something on my mind for the last several days. I'm gonna try and write this down.

Supposedly, EVERY single American kid goes through an awkward stage. Experts (whoever the hell they are) tell us this. Our parents and teachers tell us this. Anyway, I truly thought I had completely put my horrible awkwardness far, far behind me. But dammit, FaceBook keeps popping up with people I haven't seen or heard from since that time. And it makes me think about it. And it makes me question just how much I really put away. Again, the last thing I want to do is sound like I am whining or feeling sorry for myself. But I want to tell this story. It's mine. I might hurt my parents a little, but they are strong, and i think they can handle it.

"Blubber" by Judy Blume, was my favorite book in the 5th grade. The book is about a heavy 5th grade girl who becomes the target and victim of her class. Ultimate teasing and bulling ensues. But one of the worst offenders soon finds the tables turned and makes some pretty big self-realizations in the process. This book was really well done. And thought now it feels a little dated, it still holds some heavy truths for certain kids. When I was in the 5th and 6th grade, thankfully I wasn't a fat kid. That would be the last thing I needed. Up until about 5th grade, I was fairly normal. I wore glasses, but so did a lot of other kids. I also got braces at a rather young age (at that time), getiing them put on right after the 3rd grade. My grades were average to good. I loved to read. I had a pretty normal family. Just my mom, dad, and younger sister. Nothing too unusual. When I was going into the 4th grade, my parents moved to Owensboro KY, where my dad had a new position with GE. It was while we were living there that things started to get sketchy, and later to fall apart. My parents began to fight. Their arguments were loud and explosive. Then they turned violent. It was during this time that my mother, my sister, and I moved back to Tennessee. After staying with friends and family, we finally moved into a little duplex near the elementary school we would attend. During this time of upheaval, something happened (well, several things actually) to my normally attentive mother. She stopped eating, she stopped coping, and ultimately, she stopped caring for us like we needed. My sister and I were pretty much left to fend for ourselves. It did not go well.

Kids tend to have a radar and can pick up on the weakest link in a heartbeat. They wouldn't have needed much of a radar in my case. I practically advertised all the disfunction that was going on around our house. I had not been to the orthodontist in so long, several of my brace brackets had come off. (pretty) I had out grown my clothes and my shoes, and my mother cut my hair very short because it was driving her crazy! Plus some eye doctor had decided that perhaps I needed bi-focals. Oh yeah. Just what every 5th grader needs! I walked into my classroom basically begging to be made fun of!! And boy, did they ever! After our 5th grade teacher read "Blubber" to the class in an attempt to help us understand how bad it feels to be teased, my bright class basically just gleaned the evil antics of the characters from the book and looked for a victim. And lo and behold, there in my bi-focaled, half braced glory, stood the perfect victim. Me!

Now my class was smart about how they approached the teasing. It's not like today where anti-bullying campaigns fill the halls and auditoriums of America's schools. Teachers were not on the lookout for bullies. (I believe they were in the breakroom smoking cigarettes and downing coffee, but that's another story.) We were left to our own devices much more then. There were no paid playground monitors. That job fell to some kid in the class. So playgrounds were basically torture chambers for the meek. I, personally, was not allowed on any apparatus, unless I barked. My class had dubbed me "The Dog" and I had to perform to get to do anything. If I wanted to use the bathroom, I had to bark, and sometimes beg. If I wanted to get a tray in the cafeteria, I was told to bark. This lovely moniker followed me into the 6th grade, where I would come in to class in the morning and find my desk pulled away from everyone else s because nobody wanted to sit "by the stinky dog!" I was pushed, tripped, my shoes stepped on and torn. My wonderful project on Julius Caesar was crushed. When I had my school picture made, some kid jumped up and down behind the photographer making monkey faces. ANd I made it fun for them. I yelled, screamed, bawled, brayed, cursed, threw things! I even tore a girls earring! I am sure i made it a pure pleasure for them. There is nothing more fun than a victim who responds so deliciously. Wonder why I hated "Lord of the Flies?" Anyway, the amazing thing was that the adults in my life were so seemingly unconcerned. I know my teachers knew about it. But teachers are human, and sometimes it is easy for them to fall into the pack as well. My PE teacher definitely did that. She was downright cruel. My mother would say things like, "Well Amy, that just happens to everybody!" My dad was not there. My grandfather told me to pray. I did pray while I was dodging rocks at the bus stop. I prayed for everyone of those little fuckers to be hit by the bus! But....no such luck. For about 3 years, my young life was a living hell. I will say now, as an adult, I am amazed at what grown-ups would say to a little girl. When I finally did get to go to the orthodontist, he actually yelled at ME for not showing up to my appointments! Like I could drive the 9 miles into town myself? My grandparents yelled at me because my shoes were completely falling apart. Now I know that this was the late 70's and early 80's, and the "Me" generation was in full swing. But what the Hell?

My home life was pitiful. That is something I don't like to talk about even to this day. There are very few photographs of me during this time. I am thankful for that. When I see them, the chaos of that time comes running back, and even thought I am a happy, healthy adult, I still get those terrible feelings when I look at pictures. But, you know, things do tend to change. I grew up. Got contacts. Got my braces off. My family moved to Texas and then to Alabama. We were happy for a while. I got a chance to totally reinvent myself. And boy did I ever! And although my family really did put the "fun" in dysfunction, I will always be grateful for getting away from that horrible time. I mean actually, physically getting away. Of course, I swore I would NEVER move to Tennessee again. Ha......well, here I am! Because, things do change. My Dad, whom I now adore, got scary sick. My Mother, who just makes me laugh, now lives near here as well. And my beautiful sister, with whom I share these memories, is here for support, and to back me up in just how ridiculous the situation (s) actually got.

Here is another little tid-bit of craziness. I, of course, work very hard not to transfer my past onto my children. They are not me. My husband and I are not my parents. But since we moved back to Tennessee, one of my daughter's is now a student at that elementary school I went to. The first time I went in to register her, I will admit, I had to fight a little panic. But I walked around the school a little. I was safe in my anonymity. I did some yogic breathing. I looked at the bright and beautiful classrooms. I saw the well-dressed, smiling teachers standing at their doors with huge 'first day" smiles. And I knew it was just going to be okay.

As an after thought, I will say that I am very glad there is "anti-bullying" legislation in most states. I will also say, no child deserves to be bullied for their race, sexual preferences, or economic background. What I went through has made me who I am today. Most of the time, I am okay with that. I know that there are children who had it much worse than I did. I pray that there will not be more. And I have had the opportunity to be such a proud mother when I witnessed one of my children standing up for another who was being harassed. So I have much hope for this current generation. I think about what Woody the Cowboy says to the evil Sid at the end of Toy Story. Two simple words......."Be Nice!" We can do it!

This is not going to be easy to write. I may make some of my dearest friends mad. I may lose some of my dearest friends. I am sorry, but my heart is heavy. and I must write.

I have been very angry at God lately. Today, I realized my anger has been misplaced. And today, I really need to pray for a friend! I am not eloquent enough to be political. I have very strong political feelings, but I cannot put them into words. But I have proudly claimed myself as a Christian, because I believe in Christ's amazing love and forgiveness. Seems to me, that being a Christian these days is a very convoluted business. I am having a very hard time understanding why more congregations are not standing up and saying "Enough is enough!" We cannot with good conscience be the wealthiest country in the Western World and not take care of some of our poorest and sickest fellow Americans! Now it is no secret that I currently do not have health care. Neither, then do my beloved and precious children. Every night, we shop for affordable plans for our family (healthy family) of five. Brian has a good job. Of course, I am now in school and looking very actively for work. I am thankful that he is employed, and that currently we are healthy. And I am not counting myself amoung the sick and the poor who do not have health care. But it completely boggles my mind that we as this amazingly strong country, do not have an affordable health care system in place. And it leaves me amazed that Christians, yes, followers of Christ, no matter what your religious affiliation may be, are not advocating this. Why not? Personal responsibility? You think our president is the anti-christ? It's not our place to look out for one another?

When someone in a congregation gets sick, or a family's house burns, or someone loses their job, what do we do? We go to them. We serve them. We love them and bring them food, clothing, and once in our case, a car! Because we love Christ and want to be like him. The humble footwasher. I have seen and even been on the recieveing end of some of the most amazing compassion ever. And personally, I have to think about this when I get upset at how divisive we have become. And of course, I have to point out, that being served lovingly isn't just a Christian thing. I would be completely remiss if I didn't point out that one of my most stallwart amazing friends is a Pagan. But.....she would wash my feet in a second. Because she has compassion.

I don't want to lose who I am because I am confused about how I believe. It is obvious I am not conservative in my beliefs. I make no excuses for that. And what got me thinking about this whole mess to begin with, was my need to pray. I have not been doing very much of that lately. And now I have a friend who really needs and deserves to be prayed for. So now, I need to turn to God. And PLEASE do not think I am overly making myself important. I am SO just one person. One person who really loves her friend. One person who hates to alienate people and make them angry. One person who got mad at God, for human problems. And it is scary to get angy at God. But I also don't want to spend my life being a coward. Not standing up for what I believe in because it's not popular or because it's going to make someone angry. And as far as serving one another goes....I have LONG way to go on that! I am remiss at taking care of my fellow man. For stopping and looking around me at who just might need me for a second, a minute, or maybe even longer. And I am NO Bible scholar, nor do I care to be one. But I love that story in the Bible about the bleeding woman. The one that was so disgusting no one had anything to do with her. And in a huge crowd she (a lowly woman), touches Christ's robe hem. And he feels her. He reaches out to her. And she, the poor and lowly, dirty, gross, bleeding woman is healed. And whether you are Christian or not, that's not a bad example to follow.

No matter what you feel about our Nation's health care issues, I would like to ask you this. If you believe in prayer, will you pray for my friend? If you believe in lighting incense and chanting, will you do that for my friend as well? Because she is very special to a lot of people, and she is scared right now for health reasons. I know this blog is about me....but today, I want it to be about her.

This is Dedicated to the One I Love

"You wonder how these things begin. Well, this begins with a glen. It begins with a Season, which, for want of a better word. We might as well call September."

My precious friend John Hallum read those words at our wedding, 14 years ago tomorrow. And while John is no longer with us, I can still hear the sweetness in which those words (From Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt's play "The Fantastiks") were read. Our wedding was a bit rushed. Brian was given orders to Schofield Barracks in Hawaii about 6 months into our relationship. We decided to get married, and pretty much put together, with the help of wonderful family and friends, a wedding 5 months later. We had a couple of minor catastrophe's, but we did it. On a very cool Saturday in September, at the Historic Soldier's Chapel on Fort Meade, Maryland, my darling Grandpa Ernie married us. I wore a white cotton Laura Ashley wedding gown and carried lots of yellow and white daisies. It was a very sweet day.

Now 14 years and 4 children later, we are not without our bumps and bruises. Yet, here we are. We have made each other laugh. We have hurt each other enough that we made each other cry. Yet, here we are. We have watched family and friends as their marriages fell apart, and mourned with them the losses that they felt. Yet, here we are. We have fought, yelled, screamed and pushed each other way too far. We have been through times so bad we barely speak of them outloud. Yet here we are. Each of us has felt pain so deep, the other one could never reach it. We have been through counseling. We have been through moves. We have lost people so close to us the pain was palpable. And yet, here we are.

I don't think there is any magic button for making a marriage work. And ours certainly is not guaranteed to make it. But right now, today, we are making it. And I celebrate that. I certainly am aware of my shortcomings. I know I can be difficult to put up with. But somehow, the planets align and the greatest gift one can be given gets laid in my lap. I am loved. I cannot see into the future. I am perfectly aware of the fact that things happen to relationships. Some people damage the ones they love so deeply, that turning back is not an option. So I am celebrating this past year with Brian as a gift. And I can only hope that the choices we make can give us another year.

And I remember the end to the little monologue my dear friend read 14 years ago...and I have to agree with it.....
"It is September, Before a rainfall,
A perfect time to be in Love."

Happy Anniversary Brian.

The Inevitable FaceBook Post

Um....I just was really touched by a note someone sent me on Facebook. It made me think, and it almost made me cry. I think a lot about FaceBook, because it has caused me to open up areas of my life that were once locked away tight. When you meet up with friends on here that you haven't seen in almost 30 years, it really does make you think. A lot. I was not a good friend to one of the best people ever in my life while I lived in Maryland. And the thing is, she lived in Maryland too! I let guilt and fear rule me. Instead of breaking the crazy strong bonds of stupid guilt, I kowtowed to them. I could have (and almost did) lost one of the most important relationships in my entire life. But of all things, a social networking site originally designed for college students, has strengthened our friendship. I love seeing her face everyday, even if it's just in a picture. I really do love to hear what she's doing (and she is one of those people who is always doing something amazing). She's not the only one. I now get to hear about my cousins, far flung about the USA. I only saw them once every 4 or 5 years depending on weddings, and funerals. And now I get to talk to them if not every day, at least once a week. I see pictures of their adult children. I know of their accomplishments. Otherwise, I hate to say it, I wouldn't. And my cousin with the new baby....it is just great to get to chart the little one's progress. In a way, FaceBook has brought me closer to my family. Is it silly sometimes? Of course. I mean, who really cares about what Gilligan's Island character I would be (Maryann btw), or what I ate for breakfast. But I now get to see what my friends from college are up too. I see pictures of their children, see videos of plays and commercials and TV shows they've done. And then there are the friends from my much younger life who are on here. Because I have moved around so much, I lost contact with a lot of people. Well....um...wow!! Here they are on FaceBook! My darling best friend from middle school! I always guessed she would become an actress....but no! Let's try more like a Rocket Scientist!! And the amazing thing about her is that though we could not be more different politically, I really do like hearing what she has to say. So...FB is teaching me tolerance!! (Okay, I admit, going a bit overboard here......but c'mon, this is really neat. My best friend from 8th grade!!) I have been totally blessed to be able to keep up with friends made while we were in the military too. When you are thrust into all kinds of situations with the Army, you tend to make friends fast and hard. Now these relationships are much easier to keep going.

I guess people could say that FaceBook is a waste of time. And yes, if your children are screaming for your attention or your husband wants to make love to you, or your house is on fire....then I think your next status update can wait! But I love knowing that a friend has a job interview. Or that someone from my church is dating someone new. These are lovely. They make my day better. They take the focus off of me. I love pictures of new babies, and vacations, and soccer games. And in my totally selfish way...I love people (friends!!) making comments to me. I eat it up! I should also point out that since I got on FB in November, I have already met up with 2 very dear old friends! I would have never gotten to do that, I don't think, if it hadn't been for getting in contact with them on here. So that right there makes it worth it. I am personally glad that all of us middleclass moms hijacked FB from the teenagers! I have been touched, strengthened, and humbled by my friends. I look forward to stronger bonds and more meetings.If that makes me a FaceBook addict, than okay! I'll be the first one to attend that 12 Step meeting! "Hi! My name is Amy, and I'm a Facebook addict.....now give me my chip!"

Back to School & Back problems!

Oh the IRONY!!!! I started massage therapy school on Thursday, and here I am on Sunday with my back completely out of whack!! It hurts so bad I can hardly breathe. Thanks goes to my husband for letting me use his laptop. (Mine got stepped on! ANd while usable, there is a big, dramatic hole in the screen, and some of the keys don't work!) I actually took those old people back pills (um....Doans I think?) and I am waiting for some relief. Damn 40's and the damn problems that come with them!! I haven't had my back bother me much since I was nursing Sam and hunched over him all of the time. ANYWAY....yeah, now I need a massage. Thankfully, my class is going to be totally hands-on. It is all women except the instructor. Sweet, soft-spoken, crunchy instructor. I liked him. He is slight, but you can tell he is very strong. He also looks quite a bit like my sister's boyfriend. There are 12 women in the class. I am actually not the oldest! There is a grandmother of 4 (who is only 47) who is from Kentucky, whose husband did something "bad" so she is starting her life all over again. She is so beautiful. I loved her smile. There is another grandmother who is an LPN as well. There are a couple of really crunchy, granola types. Cool hats, cool dresses, bad shoes. A couple of really hot young women. An Danish yoga instructor with a 14 year old daughter. And then there is plain old me. A lot of the class is taking the full load. This bums me out, because I want to take the full load as well. But I am paying for this class piecemeal as it is. Ugh! Irony again. Now I have the time to take all of the other classes, but I sure don't have the money. There are very few jobs in Hendersonville. I am worried to death about everything. I am interviewing at Sam's preschool for a substitute teacher position. But working at a preschool is the last thing I want to do. Anyhoo....look at me get off topic so fast! Back to the school.....It is so peaceful and pretty. It is in downtown Nashville at an old train station. I would like to spend a lot of my free time there. I love the location (Nashville is a pretty cool little city!) and I really like to explore. The school smells wonderful, all clean and fresh. Of course it's painted in lavenders and celedons (yep, I read my J Crew catalogs!!)...so it is very soothing. For the 4 hours I was there, I was relaxed, for the most part. Some things worry me, like my utter lack of experience. But I am not afraid to touch people. And I like to be touched too. I am going to try to talk about this with specific detail. I don't want to forget a moment of this experience. I feel so blessed to be getting a chance to start over. I want to savor this chance, and make the very most of it. So I made it through class number 1. Let's see how I do with class number 2, when we get physical.

I think my little green pills have kicked in. I'm gonna give my husband his laptop back. The little battery button is flashing at me! I write like I touch.......too much!! It's like his computer is telling me to shut up. Okay. More later.

First Day of School, First Day of School!

I am this massive ball of anxiety!! My head aches, my body aches, even my nose is aching! And the irony of my whole anxiety is that I am worried about starting class. Let me clarify. Worried about starting MASSAGE THERAPY class. What the hell is wrong with me? Are "worry" and "massage" even allowed to be in the same sentence? Shouldn't I at my (somewhat) advanced age be able to waltz right in a classroom with no problem at all? And a classroom with massage tables no less??? I feel like every nerve in my body is raw. So obviously it's been a long time since I have been in a classroom. I know I'm not gonna be tested on trigonometry tomorrow night. But the cold hard truth is that I have never been a great student. Well, it totally depended on the subject. When I was at Auburn, I did really well in classes I was interested in. I loved my acting classes, heck, I even eeked out B's in Theatre History, and my stage make-up classes were some of my favorite ever. When I transferred to Auburn, my GPA was a 389. Not too shabby! But the truth about it is, I only took classes I could do really well in. Literature, yep! Creative Writing? Oh Yeah! Biology? Nope. Math (any kind)...hahahahaha. In fact, when I came to Auburn on a full scholarship, the woman in the registrar office told me she didn't think they had ever admitted a student without the pre-requisite math classes. But somehow, I got around that. And I don't know what I am so worried about right now. That they are gonna find out I didn't take college math? Ooohhhh.......maybe that I can't take notes? Hey, my daughter's picked me out awesome new notebooks and pens. (Though I did have to nix the Jonas Brother's folders. Sorry Gen!). I even have a pretty lunchbox I can borrow if I need to. I guess I am gonna be learning a lot about good relaxing breathing. Guess I should practice it on myself. I remember at Auburn, how at the beginning of each quarter it was so scary. Being in theatre, it always meant new competition. Plus, I was never sure if I would be in classes with the people I had grown to adore. Walking into a new classroom was never my favorite experience. But I lived through it. I came away better for the experience. And in the end, I came out with some lovely friends and really sweet memories. SO I guess I'm trying this student thing no matter what. I'll go in and stake out my desk (or table?), and try to look aloof yet friendly. (Ha, who am I kidding? I don't have an aloof bone in my body. Aloof like a cocker spaniel maybe!!) So, I'll just try to look friendly. My kids have to go into new classrooms every year. If they can do it, so can I. I'll grab the best looking Granny Smith apple I've got and set off for my first day. So it's been 18 years since I've done this.....ugh, here goes.............................

Oh Sir Mix-a-lot....where art thou??

Today, my walk was long and lovely. I started at the beautiful new library here in town, which has a great trail all around it. It's hot, but the signs of fall are everywhere. Trees have begun to take on a very tired, haggered look, as if they are begging for the makeover they will get in October. It's not AS humid as it was, and the poor, noisy cicadas are screaming their last ridiculous songs. When I walk, I don't take my MP3 player with me. It's got a bunch of stuff on it I love, but there are a couple of reasons I don't take it. I love to hear noise. The birds, the train, dogs, even traffic, help me move along. But I am a little bit afraid that if I wear my MP3 player, I might embarrass myself. You see, I sing when I have it on. I cannot help it, or control it. And since I cannot hear myself, God knows how I sound. ANd I am not sure how my fellow walkers (and runners) would feel about being serenaded with a really bad rendition of Lilly Allen's Alfie. (though it did just occur to me that all the other walkers and runners are wearing music players as well......) So I walk tuneless, though I still sometimes sing....just I can hear myself.

Today as I was holding the front door for my pre-schooler, my husband told me my calf's were looking nice. I was delighted by the compliment. Not that he doesn't compliment me, just that I have really been working hard at this, and he noticed. As I started walking, I was sort of chanting things to myself. I noticed that I am not very kind to myself. I was singing (to myself)..."Boobs, belly, butt and thighs butt and thighs" to the tune of "Head, shoulders, knees and toes." There was a time in my life where I would have paid for big boobs. Now I just want them to not be so ostentatious. Granted, I did breastfeed 3 kids a cumulative of over 5 years, but uuuggghhhh.......they are like pendulums attached to my chest. So I am still not being kind to myself. These were life-giving boobies. I need to be nicer to them!! Why is it so hard to be kind to ones self? Then I skip down to my belly....yuck. Okay, that wasn't very kind either, now was it? Then the butt........oh man, big butts have been so celebrated as of late. But a big ole "mom butt" is not a pretty thing. See....listen to me....so hard to be nice. Know what, I am going to skip the thighs all together!! I don't want to self bash. I know my body is better than it was 6 weeks ago. I really want to celebrate that. And I am so lucky to be healthy!! I also know that self bashing is not going to do me any good. I had this beautiful friend who had the prettiest legs. All she did was talk about how fat she was (she was not!). I would get so frustrated with her. I don't want to fall into the routine of fishing for compliments either.."What? You are NOT fat!! Now so & so is fat! But not you!" It's so disingenuous to do that. I am more than my body. And taking care of myself is great.....but being kind to myself, well that's a challenge. I want to be grateful (again with the gratitude) for what I have, and take good care of it. I have to make friends with myself. But I still don't want to sing out loud while I am walking. Maybe someday. But it will be a nice song. I'm taking requests.................

Demi-tasse

So....I come to the keyboard humbled, and a bit embarrassed. But I did post this blog on FB. I opened myself up. And all in all....I am really glad I did.

A few things about me:

Though I am chronically depressed, it does not always pin me to my bed (thank god!)
I stopped taking cymbalta beacause it was too expensive, it made me apathetic, and well....it was killing my sex drive. (cringe, I said "sex") I will probably battle this forever, but I am not interested in it taking me over. I may suffer from depression, but I do not want it to define me. I am so much more than that one word. And I do not, at this point, intend to give my life over to it. So I am lonely and jobless? So are a lot of other people. I am just grateful, actually so very grateful I had a place to put it. And my friends, my wonderful, far-flung community of friends, I am so, so very grateful to you. You all came to my rescue. And God, it has been sweet. My cup runneth over.

My favorite author (Anne Lamott) says to "Breathe, pray, and walk." That's what I am doing. And the Divine, sneaky as he or she may be, is answering my prayers. Maybe (and here I shall channel Garth Brooks) the Divine is "unanswering" my prayers. But whatever it is, I know it is right and it is good. And again, my cup runneth over.

So here I am. All middle-agey and full of kinks. But I feel beloved. I have children that are amazing, ridiculous, beautiful, and totally luscious. My husband is trying. I am not easy. But at the end of the day, for some reason, he loves me. My family is near. I have a home. I am dog-sitting two adorable little bichons. And so....you got it. My cup runneth over.

I just want to add that I remember so clearly 8 years ago today, as a young mother living on Fort Meade Maryland, how real everything that happened that day was to us. Some of my neighbors did not see their spouses for months, as they were immediately deployed to NSA, Pentagon, or Afghanistan. I remember how the post was put on lockdown. How my friend and neighbor Lisa and I watched as humvees with armed patrols rolled by us on our daily walk. How we literally clutched each other when a surveillance plane flew very low over us one morning. How I went upstairs the night of Sept. 11th, and wrote everything that had happened down in both of my girls babybooks. As horrible and scary as the attacks were, I knew then, and still believe it now, how lucky I was to be raising my family in a country that was so safe. Some people have to go through every day what we went through that horrible Tuesday. So many people showed such unbridled heroics that day. We all have such vivid memories of where we were at what we were doing and that beautiful, fall-like day. I am so thankful for all those who kept us safe.

So, I guess thankfulness and gratitude are going to be my MO this weekend. I am going to tie something around my wrist so I don't forget it. Thankfulness and gratitude. Yep....my cup definitely runneth over.

Chapters

I don't know who reads blogs, if anyone, other than me. And I don't know who reads mine, other than a few dear friends and some of my family. I struggle with how personal to let these things get. Does it really matter anyway? Do I really want to share very, very personal details with everyone? Should I? But then, when I read other blogs, I really want honesty. ANd believe me, I can tell when people are bullshitting me. I want to feel touched, appalled, sickened, devastated, overjoyed, blown away when I read what people have to say. And I guess....I really want to give those feelings as well. The thing is....I am in a million pieces right now. And I don't know how to put myself together. I wish I were a character in an Anne Lamott or Rita Mae Brown book. Then when I went through these times, I would be shored up by quirky, totally forgiving friends who just adore me. And it's not that I don't have wonderful friends. I do! But no one close by. I mean, my precious sister is close by. But she is distracted with her own massive tasks of raising three boys, and tending to a new and growing relationship. As she should be. Plus, she is not responsible for my well being just because I moved close to her. I can tell that this is taking on a whiney tone. I don't mean to do that. But I am lonely. So, so utterly lonely. It completely sucks. Being a former military spouse, I know how to move around and make new friends. That's why I don't understand why it's so hard here. This time. We did the right thing by moving here. We were falling apart. My marriage was unraveling. My children were really suffering. I could see the toll of all of our day to day problems, on their sweet faces. Things were (and are) going to be better in Tennessee. Family is close by! Cost of living is much lower! B's job much more exciting! I got to stay home with the kids over the summer! (Loved that, btw).

Now.....school is back in session, Little Man is in pre-school 3 times a week, and I start Massage Therapy school a week from Thursday (1 day a week to start, more classes to follow). But I desperately need to find a job. And although I wasn't thrilled to go back to waiting tables, the more I thought about it, the better it seemed. I simply love being around people. Love the pace. Love the crazy people you get to work with, and I 'm good at it! But I have heard nothing from anyone!! I hate this feeling of being frightened. I don't want to scare the children. But we have a whole week until payday. And nothing left after bills and groceries. (and school fees. DAng, they love the school fees around here!) I feel like I am fighting to keep myself from falling down one of my black holes. And if this were one of the novels I love, I would meet with my friends over a good red wine and we would laugh and find a way out of this. But, I am not in a novel. This is real life, with very real people. The most precious people I know. I will not lie about this sitiuation. Please (umm...God I guess)....show me a way out of this.

So....a whole blog of whining. Hopefully things will look better in the morning (said Scarlett). I do not want to be trite. I just want Anne Lamott to write me a better chapter. This one sucks. I want to edit, and rewrite. Anyone gotta red pen I can borrow?

Oooo that smell. Can't cha smell that smell?

So I had Sam with me all day....so I couldn't walk this morning. Okay.....Back to School Night at G's school, so I had to wait to walk till this evening. It's definitely getting dark early, so I pounded out the door a little after 7pm. Knew my route. Knew I couldn't visit Johnny and June. Knew it was gonna be a focused, good walk. And then.....I hit the neighborhood. This is not the first time in the 3 weeks that I have been walking (hard) that I noticed it.....but I could not ignore it. I could smell the scent of fabric softner wafting out of dryer vents. I could smell the grass folks were mowing. But there was something else I could smell as well. Something that took me flying back in time. High school parties in a barn. My certain California friend who, other than me, had the only pair of Vans in Greenville, Alabama. That unmistakable smell of college parties. That toasty, marshmellow smell of concerts. Especially The Grateful Dead. A smell I associate with broomstraw skirts and birkenstocks. There it was.....floating out in several places in suburbia. Unmistakable.

Now it has been years since I possibly partook of anything one might consider illegal. Still and yet....that smell. I just thought it was interesting and a little bit strange that I noticed it in 3 separate, but distinct places. I dunno. Maybe it's way more prevalent than I thought. And while I know this has nothing to do with weight loss or exercising, it just caught my attention. And made me smile............happy someone is able to relax their troubles away. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go listen to Box of Rain. I'm in the mood for a little Jerry Garcia right now. Hmmmm......wonder why?