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Whew! The weather firefox add-on at the bottom of my browser is reporting “Now: Sunny, 76 F”, but I just don’t believe it. When the back of your knees are sweating, you know its hotter than hades.
Lil’ E is at nanny Anna’s today, having a ball, no doubt! The chicks are the backyard about to pass out. I am safely tucked away in the house at the moment, where the cool night temps linger. It seems like just last week I was worried about freezing out my newly planted tomato starters- and now the record high temps threaten to burn them up! Tomorrow it is supposed to reach nearly 100 degrees!

All of this is so full-circle, it really is. This time last year, I was selling the last of my belongings that weren’t already packed up. I was preparing to send Hubby off with our car on a 3,000 mile road trip while I finished up the house cleaning before Lil’ E and I flew not far behind him to our new home, Portland, on May 21st. Everything about Portland this time of year was captured by my senses because it was so new and exciting. I familiarized myself with all of the smells, like the lavender, rosemary and sage growing along the sidewalks, as if they were the encapsulated in and only in Portland. The summer heat was familiar, since in many ways the last 23 years of my life was one big summer in Florida. And the evenings were pure bliss, when the skin on my shoulders would tingle as the temperatures dropped off, giving me an excuse to grab a cute shaw and relishing the strange feeling of having stolen extra time by enjoying sunlight until at least 9 pm.

Then I made it through Portland’s grey, drizzly winter. I even made it through the up and down days of early Spring that can play mean tricks on you. I thought that the shift towards Summer would be mighty welcoming, but instead — I must admit — it is bittersweet. This time last year I was saying goodbye and hello so much that my soul was just buzzing from it all. Now the cycle of one year brings all the sights and smells and sounds back again, and all I can think about is that its been 12 months since I have been able to hug my dad, to share a good cry with Steph, or laugh a loud, tipsy laugh with my sister Rachel. And perhaps more depressing- I have no idea if it will be another year, or two, or five, before I will be able to do those things again. This economy and life have left us all pretty darn broke and busy, making the seven hour plane ride seem more like a trek on the “Oregon Trail”, where one will inevitably die of dysentery, or in the very least, lose twelve oxen along the way.

There is nothing to look forward to this time around. While I’ll enjoy the different aspects of Fall, Winter and Spring again, it just won’t be the first time. It won’t be the honeymoon- it will be the marriage. And we all know what marriage is like

Of course, there’s more to it than all of this. There’s a new presidency, (maybe a boost to the economy will create a new job for Hubby), or perhaps we will decide to do something wild and crazy together, (like have another human being with our DNA combination enter the world). Even the low-key, hum drum days of life will no doubt gift me with a nugget of satisfaction or drama, if I keep my eyes open.

Anyway, I’m waiting for June to settle in. Something tells me the grass will look greener in June.

I was delighted with the information shared with us by Aaron and Joelle (who I have affectionately nicknamed “The Pretties” on Lost night: $3 dollar wine!

Am I the last to know about this??? While I dish out 8-20 dollars a bottle, there’s this extreme cheapo wine that’s really not half bad! Charles Shaw, you’ve saved Lost night (because Lord knows I can’t keep up with the goodies offered at the premiere!)

So we’re headed out to Trader Joe’s today for groceries (first time!) and I can’t wait to see if they have any other hidden cheap gems!

Gotta love a bargain!

EDIT*  OHMYGOSH I am a new BIG FAN of Trader Joe’s. How come so many people told me it was expensive!??! Since my nearest grocery store is Whole Foods, I found Trader Joe’s full, FULL of cheap foods. I mean, organic apples for 69 cents a pound?! Avocado’s for 75 cents each (this was the cheapest they ever went in central FL and that was at a produce stand so they were over ripe!) A quart of maple cream top yogurt (I normally pay $4-5 dollars for) was only about $2.50. Just about everything I found was 25-50% cheaper than I usually pay for it. This is my new grocery store, without a doubt!

Last night’s premiere (only 1 hour, btw -NOT cool, ABC, not cool) was neato- particularly the whole Hurley finding Jacob’s cabin thing! We are debating- was it or was it not John Locke’s eye in there with Jacob rocking in the chair?! Did Jacob move really really fast or was Locke in there talking to him? (Check the message board thread to see some other theories!) And another flash forward, Hurley’s this time, set just before Jack’s flash forward in the Season 3 finale, was cool in a still-so-confused kinda way! We’ll be watching again today just to wrap our brains around it!

*EDIT* Check out the Lostpedia screen captures of the scene I’m referring to! (go down “Hurley meets Jacob”) It is CHRISTIAN SHEPPARD in the chair and possibly Jacob’s eye! I’m so scured and confused…

It was fun to have the Auel’s and Aaron and Joelle up for Lost last night! We even did pretty good about not talking until the commercials, wow! I’m SO looking forward to the next 7 weeks, which to some might seem vaguely pathetic- but to you I say, YOU DON’T know what you’re missin’, maaaaaan.

So here’s a little nerdy pre-company Lost video I snagged because I couldn’t find my camera. Just had to get that Lost wine bottle on record, lol. I’m keeping as a souvenir, fo’ sho.

Dear God,

Is there some sort of personals in the prayer category? If so, can you please post the following wanted ad? Oh, and make sure to season the heart’s of all readers to understand that not one item on this list is intended to offend any current “friends”? I am, after all, praying from the heart here.
Thanks, God, you’re the best!
Your gal,
Viv

Seeking IDEAL friend…

Must:

• Enjoy public transportation and biking.
• Live in the Portland area. (Exception: If you meet all other requirements, I will consider relocating. Tomorrow.)
• Be “green”, through and through. Though they can shave their armpits, that’s cool. We are girl’s after all.
• Be able to put up with a moody BFF, and occasionally her moody Hubby and their moody 2 year old…(the favor will be returned!)
• Must be able to get jiggy with it on whim, participate in Dance Party’s, and willing to subject themselves to public humiliation on my blog, even if it is two years after the event. The way I see it, if I am willing to put it on here when I was 30 pounds heavier and no make up, you can live (see video at the end for further example.)
• Likes fine beverages (coffee, tea, wine?)
• Enjoys movies, music and books.
• Lost fanatic (yeah yeah, this is my IDEAL list, and with God, all things are possible.)
• Must be okay with too-close-for-comfort conversations (sex, poop, periods, money, it’s all on the table!)
• Enjoys throwing and coming to slumber parties, girl nights, cocktails, what have you.
• Abides by basic laws of land and/or common sense - i.e. not smoking, speeding, lying, and other such shenanigans.
• Willingness to “paint the town” on occasion.
• Enjoys perusing second-hand stores and prefers used to new, with the exclusion of undergarments.
• Must think this blog post is hilarious, not lame and desperate.

Preferred:

• In their twenties
• Does not need to have children, but can’t hate them either.
• Does not need to have a husband… but can’t hate them either.
• Christian- ish
• Creative

Need NOT apply:

• Men. (Sorry, I know so many of you were hoping to be my best friend and all.)
• Picky eaters… and anyone who has a strong distaste for peanut butter, seafood, or cheese.

Disclaimer:

• Lots and lots of laughter and sarcasm will be involved in this position; be prepared for sore abs.

Video:

I want to point out that we have yet to fulfill our vow to hold another Make Your Own Music Video Night in which Steph and I have gotten really skinny and worn cute pj’s like Morgan rather than our Moo Moo’s. Ya’ll owe me.

Dear Diary,

8:45am: I woke up later than I wanted to, for I had to be at work by 10 am which is like SO early for a WAHM to be decently dressed and walking 1/2 mile to pick up the #4 to downtown, ready to pull off my first ever Podcasting experience. It was all the windows fault. There was too much light coming in last night and I couldn’t sleep. So I did what all of us po’ folk do- I grab the nearest blanket I could live without and stuffed it up around the top of the mini-blinds so as to create makeshift drapes. That was about midnight or so, I suppose. So in the morning, when I normally get up by at least 7:30, it was nice and dark and quiet (just so happens Lil’ E ALSO slept in … thankyoujesus.)

9:15am: Catch the #6 instead so I can make a stop at the Starbucks for a quick po’ folk 8 oz. coffee, then catch the MAX from the convention center into downtown. Wait for the MAX for what felt like forever, coffee already cold, and a few sightings of snowflakes. It was a very rainy day and I was cute dumb enough to wear little gray ballet looking slip-ons. Real good, Viv, real good.

9:59am: Arrive to the office with one minute to spare, having bounded through the rain and puddles downtown with my purse and digital camcorder on my shoulders and my laptop case trailing behind me on wheels. Office is still dark and locked up- I’ve beat the boss! Dang I’m good.

10:20am: Call my boss. Realize I missed the e-mail that he wasn’t going to be in until after 11am.

10:45am: Finally get my STUPID VISTA OPERATING SYSTEM to connect to the unsecured network of the ground floor’s coffee shop to plug in to work and enjoy some HOT tea while I wait.

11:45am - 3:00pm: Podcasting 101.

3:00pm: Dismissed from work but its pouring. Sit down at the coffee shop once again and have my lunch- I’m told the “Stinky Hippie” is a soy chai latte. “Ah, that’s a wholesome po’ folk lunch”, I think. I order. I taste. Nope, this is a soy latte. No Chai. (You know, if you can’t get a drink right, how about try NOT naming it things like, oh I don’t know, STINKY HIPPIE, when all it is is a soy chai. Might that clear up some confusion? Just a thought.) But I am really a-okay with soy latte’s so I drink anyway. I forget about my problem of espresso on an empty stomach. (And no, I’m not referring to the BM’s… that is not to say this isn’t also a problem, but for now I simply mean the shaky hands and queasy stomach feeling.)

3:45pm: Waiting for MAX again. Once on, I must decide which way to turn my nose… to my right is a man in black leather with a long gray beard who smells something awful of cigarette’s, while periodically laughing at himself for no reason in particularly. To my left: a fairly normal looking, just-over-the-hill-aged man who must have a cat hoarding problem; he smells like PAH-IS! Naturally, I pick the powerfully odored urine man with the slightly less creepy disposition.

4:00pm: Getting more nauseous from the urine smell and praying I don’t pass out completely. Some one has got to guard my purse, digital camcorder and laptop.

4:15pm: Home again, home again, clickity clack.

5:00pm: We needs diapers, eggs and yogurt. What does a car-less family do in such circumstances? Layer up, walk the mile to the grocery store. Dark outside? Raining? Cold? Minor insignificant details. We are tough cookies, yes we are.

6:00pm: Eating a po’ man’s dinner for a family of 3 with no time to prepare a meal: Cheesy bread - $2.99 (an actual pizza is too expensive). Family dinner? Priceless.

6:45pm: Lil’ E to bed. I tried to think of something witty for this one but I’m at a loss.

7:30pm: Yoga night!

8:30pm: Ouch! The Scorpion. I point out to the yoga instructor, “this is the type of stuff they do on the magazine covers”; Little ol’ noobie Vivian cannot do this. But try, little engine, try. Does any one know about this stuff? Why is it that from this position on I have had some crazy lower back feelings of an almost maternal nature? Some powerful mothering feelings, almost like some deep seated tension from carrying a belly with a hyper-extended back for 9.5 months. Who knows.

9:30pm: My new hobby of skyping (and I’ll have to blog about that another time!) with my best friend for several hours, where I get to practice all of my comedic lines to blog about later. If they fly on her, they are in.

12:00am: Shower. Lay down in bed. The whole room is a-quiver with Hubby’s snoring- his body a 215 pound subwoofer.

12:20am: Up again. Grab some rice milk and cookie dough and start blogging.

12:30am: Dang this cookie dough is da bomb diggity. And 70% organic ingredients too!

Yep, that’s right ya’ll: Organic Fat. Only the best fat for this ass.

(Chat-practiced that line too. Might copyright it, whatcha think?)

For the record, no, this is not my typical diet!

I realize “blessed” is like a churchy buzzword, but I can’t help using it. I have had several good conversation’s with women in my life lately who took some time to listen to my complaints and problem solving, and a combination of it all has left me much clearer at the start of this week. I feel almost like I’m on stage thanking those who helped me get here, tears running down my face, “God …. bless…. (ugly sob) you all…”

But not quite that bad.

My son loves this book from the library, but has got it in his head that any tree with lots of leaves under it is “Fall leaves Fall”, lol.

The autumn equinox just passed (almost unnoticed, sadly!) and as I pointed out in my post yesterday, fall is upon us. I’m enthralled with this season right now because I never had much of a Fall growing up. I can very distinctly remember the one fall I spent NOT in Florida as a child, when I spent 4 months with my mother in central Louisiana at the age of 8. There was a harvest or street festival we went to, the air was chilly, and she remarked at how gorgeous the bright yellow trees were in the fall.

Florida trees do not turn yellow. They are primarily one of two types: on the coast, its the quintessential Palm Tree, and inland (Lakeland), its the great big mossy oaks. They give you lots of leaves, albeit dry brown ones that kill your grass. And there are days so hot in a Florida September that you can fry an egg on the sidewalk. There are CHRISTMAS DAYS so hot in Florida that you can lay out on a lawn chair in your bikini and get a tan. A small handful of you might think that’s totally cool, but trust me, 23 years of it and I’m done. Where’s my Bing Crosby and my White Christmas, darn it? (Rainy christmas, ie. Portland, is a step in the right direction, lol).

Anyhoo, despite the gazillion things going on today, Misty and I managed to trek over to People’s Coop Harvest Festival. It was awesome! Below are some pics. (BTW, this is a great idea, People’s! What a wonderful help for those going sans automobile! More grocers should offer such service!)

Apple Press:

Mmmmm….. free tasting…

More?

Pumpkin carving contest!

Say Cheese, Misty!

Ok, this is not the Harvest Festival, this is from our family day on Sunday… Despite what this look might tell you, Lil’ E WAS happy about his bunny balloon hat… no, really, he was, promise.

That’s what life feels like for me lately. It seems I should be a little further along sometimes, having gotten my “edumacation”, being married for nearly 5 years, a mommy for 2+pregnancy, working, bla bla bla- those should surely qualify me for a self-titled “intermediate”, right? Instead I feel in so many ways as though life has just begun. As though my lungs are crushing with the weight of my first breath of oxygen: I know nothing.

Yep, the lovely twenties, full blown in effect.

One of my many humble philosophies on life is sort of a “mind over matter” one- with regards to vices, depression, stress, so forth. Though I must have a zillion crutches that I don’t even think about or consider them as such, the ones I recognize I typically do away with rather quickly. Example- if I notice I’m using wine to “relax” too often, I’ll begin to formulate a different way to relax that is healthier, no side effects, etc etc. Aromatherapy, massage, yoga, whatever. I even considered recently the homeopathic medicinal value of herbs such as St. John’s Wort or Kava, though in the end even those had side effects I’d rather not deal with, not to mention that you cannot be on them while pregnant or nursing and that chapter of my life isn’t exactly over yet, so might as well not even get started on the treatment.

Side note: I recently read an article in a parenting e-zine where the writer and mother of the story confessed that she turned her weekend vice of smoking a little weed while her son is not around into a “one hitter” commonality whenever she needed to “get through the day” with her son. I wanted to scream at such stupidity, especially as nearly every single comment (there were over 80) to the on-line article went back and forth between arguing about the legality of pot or the irresponsibility of the mom while she is the care-giver for a young child, etc etc. While all those arguments are interesting, I felt like they really missed the point. Why not get to the deeper issue (IMHO) and learn to deal with your stress and anxiety as a mother without “mother’s little helpers” at all? Perhaps such levels of annoyance indicate a major change needs to happen, as in, more sleep, better diet, a little exercising, prayer (yikes, touchy subject!) or even counseling. I also feel, (though this opinion might get me stoned), that too many (esp mothers) turn quickly to the latest prescription drug for helping them cope BEFORE giving the aforementioned suggestions a hearty attempt. (Okay, that’s all I’ll say now about my extreme skepticism of allopathic medicine! Another day, another post)

As for me, I “confess” that I can fall into mild feelings of lethargy, depression, anxiety or what have you, certain circumstances trigger it more than others of course. I can tell when I want to “hide” that the cloud is over me. Luckily, it rarely effects my ability to fulfill responsibilities, although it does make doing them more difficult. Anyhow, this all to say that I am sort of in one of these periods lately and have the foreboding feeling that it hasn’t even completely run its course yet (it’s only the beginning!)- with upcoming cold, sunless, rainy days of Portland’s winter ahead, the holidays without friends and family around, hubby working double shifts nearly every day, and my only “hey, let’s go chill” friend starting a full-time job and having her mom come live with her, all of this seems to be indicators to me lately that I’ve got to catch this mood at the beginning and prepare for the “dark night of the soul” that could be quite lonely if I don’t proceed carefully.

This post has taken a slight detour from its original “I might finally know that I don’t know anything” but trust me, its all related!

So I’m open to anything, bar substance abuse, traditional Western medicine, lol, and perhaps some others things I haven’t thought of, to help me trudge along this phase with a deeply joyful heart. I have absolute assurance that this won’t happen without a much greater awareness of the daily conversation God is having with me, and perhaps I could even try responding more often in prayer instead of avoidance. From there, I’ve got to start reading some good books, doing my yoga again, and making sure my oil burner is always going with lavender, chamomile, and clary sage. Another tip: avoid too much refined sugars, alcohol and caffeine (yes, even here at “mama NEED java” we can all agree on the “too much of a good thing” factor )

If any one else can relate to what I’ve just shared, here’s a toast to your journey onward. To the other’s, I apologize for wasting your time on a very Vivian-centered subject (esp since my last post was one too!) and promise to upload a great movie tomorrow of Ethan singing songs.

What does that even mean?

I just got back from another night of “one of THOSE nights” for me, one where I nervously talked enough to safely say I dominated the conversation and spilled all for the sake of being “authentic”. When I come back from those nights, when I am just spent and soiled and bewildered as my “self” returns to me, I feel like I can sympathize with the Saints of old that would chastise themselves or whip their own bodies or something. I’ve got the dueling cavaliers on either shoulder the entire evening, telling me what to say, what not to say- made particularly nervous and unlike me by any one in the group being extra quiet. That’s weird for me too because I seem to feel like the big sister who has to make friends for the sake of those who go unheard, like if I just share something else and keep the conversation going then eventually the egg will crack and every one in the group will relax and be themselves too- although I am the last thing from relaxed or myself at the moment, the only difference between me and them being that I can’t shut my f-ing mouth. And when the group dynamic can go on without me and every one is laughing and carrying on their own conversation, I very rarely wish to join the topics because I love the fact that I can just sit back and watch it happen and NOT have to share my example or experience of whatever particular subject happens to be on the table.

BLEH!

I thought the self-wandering, identity seeking phase ended with puberty, but clearly my insecurities are fresh and bare for all to see, mostly ME.

I recently watched Ms. Beatrix Potter, and there was one point in there where she is being told about her foolish decision to purchase a farm and, (after living under an insufferable social climbing mother, losing her (unapproved of) first love to death, and simultaneously turning her “little stories and paintings” into a best selling children’s book), she tells the man that she is “no longer in the habit of being lectured to”. Something in me was like “Yeah!” when she said that; I cheered her on in my heart because I absolutely love those characters at last embracing being okay in their own skin, having no explanation to give to any one about what they do with their time, money, love, faith, etc etc etc. I have very few balls when it comes to stuff like that. I don’t want to disappoint people, in general I want people to be comfortable and happy and possibly even like me, but at the same time I don’t compromise “being myself” (whatever that means) when I’m around them anymore, not very much anyway.

It used to be that one friend knew me as a proper, faithful lady and another knew me as a fiery, talkative eccentric (which made for an awkward time when the two met and we hung out as a threesome- who to be, who to be?) And I can remember this time last year making it my goal that this facade would end. Welcoming myself into the blog-osphere was good practice- which person would I present to the masses- family, friends, in-laws, strangers, co-workers, church peers- they would all have access to this little URL and would all have to get used to one and only one Vivian- some days completely safe and other days a crazy rant of a post- and I would similarily have to allow it to happen- even force it to happen, for the sake of being consistent. That means I can’t hang out with a family member and tell them, “oh yeah, those crazy mom’s checkin their kids toys for lead paint!” because I AM that mom and I already blogged about it. See what I mean? Every one gets the same story- they begin to get used to it OR stop getting to know me if they so choose, but in the end I have no apologies or explinations or back-peddling. What you see/read is what you get.

Yep, so my “home community” has this link and people I’m trying to get to know and would prefer they come to like me can read all about my insanity right here and that’s that. My husband, come to find out, passes it along to members of his family I’ve never even met, (like, can’t he just give them our FLICKR account if they want photo’s of Lil’ E??? I mean, really, this is my PERSONAL weblog) but then I’m faced with the self-coaxing again: okay, I will make the conscious decision to not adjust what I’m thinking/feeling at the moment to cater to one particular audience (as if that many people even read my blog! My stats say about 350 average it daily, and I’m thinking most of that’s bogus or my own navigating to approve comments, lol!) but you get the drift. It’s a great tool if you choose to be indeed “personal” with it.

Larry Crab, in his genius book Inside Out, has helped me with this a lot too, and so armed with this agenda of being authentic, non-private, communal, imperfect christian I do NOT behave differently around my husband, (ie. bat my eyes, soften my voice, hold his hand, in front of a group of people when that is NOT how we act alone. I treat him nearly exactly the same, except of course that at home I’m more prone to raising my voice ) and I try very hard not to behave differently as a parent. I find that usually people are relieved to hear my stories of horror at my own failings as a mother and wife, that some one like me has allowed themselves to be known and they no longer have to wonder about what skeletons are in my closet, or worse, whether they are all alone with theirs.

The more I get to know people, it is so so so true that every one is just as nuts as I am. I mean, the people I would have hands down said were pretty “together” have been the ones caught in the worst addictions, the ones who deal with very little of their own childhood hurts or marital problems, they have the biggest melt downs and live a life that is false so it builds up and builds up and then they freak out in rage. They want people to know so little about them that no one can ever truly “get in” and when they do, it is so shocking what they see (because such a different person was presented to them all along!) that they don’t want to revisit the friendship again.

Didn’t Christ teach a different way of being? Was he worried what people would think when he washed feet, touched lepers, called Pharisees a “broad of snakes!”, overturned TEMPLE tables, or stood up for a woman (presumably naked) caught “in the very act of adultery”? Were the early Christians, who met in backyards and sang songs together and shared everything and sold all their possessions- were they particularly shy about “airing dirty laundry”- for crying out loud they were likely sharing the clothes off their back, not to mention all of their sins and struggles laid bare. The culture of the first followers of Christ did not leave room for pretension or saving face regarding financial means, marital happiness, parental perfection or spiritual enlightenment. It was all hangin out there, ugly and gross, so they could together join hands and GROW.

Being me: I have no flippin clue what that means sometimes. Is the me I think I am just a persona too, am I just the product of my environment or the predestined personality of the Creator, or the physiological make up of a bunch of random DNA molecules or where the stars happened to align at the moment I was born? Some of this is fairly far fetched, of course, but personality theorists have gone even further in their guessing!

My thought is that I’ll start to figure it out after the me I present to others gets embarrassing, humiliating, but in the end and as I already stated: consistent. And that, at least, I think I’m starting to have going for me.

On a completely other angle, I AM aware that my limited knowledge and experience makes me no expert, even on myself, and that many wiser souls than I might conclude that the more self-forgetful, ie. self-LESS or NOT CONSCIOUS of oneself we are, the more we will actually be “ourselves”.

In the meantime, I admit that I really envy the fly on the wall, wishing I could revert back to the timid Vivian I once was, whose face turned red when eyes were on me so I never contributed a thing when not completely comfortable with those I was with. But its sort of like Egypt- once you have grown beyond that point, you’ve got bigger demons to deal with and more of that “much is given” to wrestle with. Oh my gosh, I’m going to quickly end this post before I start saying something that sounds way too much like Peter, a.k.a. “Spiderman”’s Uncle: “With great power comes great responsibility”.

Crap, too late.

I haven’t written in a few days, which isn’t all that typical of me lately, because of reasons I don’t even know how to pin down. I’ve been feeling as though I’m floating lately, not really here all the time. I don’t think I’m unhappy or anything, just sort of bored, tired, lethargic. I don’t know. I can take on things sometimes and try to shoulder it harder or longer than I should and I don’t stop and ask myself WTF, you know? I don’t even think I’m talking about anything in particular.

Perhaps I need more close friends and family here, of course that could be. I’m also feeling a little discontent, wanting to stop freakin worrying about money and never having enough to do or purchase the things I want, which sounds SO lame, I know. But seriously, I’m damn tired of being broke and trying so begrudgingly to be frugal. It’s a pain in the rear. You got your degrees, you got your jobs, congratulations- now you have to pay off all your debt. After that, you can work on saving for college and retirement, or paying off your mortgage if you’re lucky enough to have a home to truly call your own, which it turns out could be incredibly overrated.

And I’ve been sad lately at things I don’t think should make me quite so sad. I let Lil’ E stay up way too late last night and felt like the worst parent on the planet. I found out a close friend who I haven’t been able to really talk to in months is off to a bible college of sorts in the bahamas and I feel so bad that I knew nothing of this and all the different directions every one goes in life. Sometimes I think connections are so awesome. You go for a walk to kill time and end up meeting some one a few blocks down who is trained in landscape architecture and has awesome tips and encouragement about your organic garden. You plan for the right pet and meet a breeder who is a talkative, interesting, informative home-schooling mom, (and has the perfect pet for our family). So in these moments I want to get on this blog or remark to some one in person about how incredibly delightful these connections are- how two people end up meeting or effecting each other’s lives in a way that seems just too strange to not be Orchestrated.

Other times its connections that I mourn - one’s that are falling apart from distance and lack of cultivation. Sometimes I mourn one’s that are just fine, because its terrible events that bring two people together, like earlier this week when Lil’ E and I were walking to the park and saw a cat dying on the sidewalk. With the joint effort of myself and the mailman, we managed to read the ID tag and call the number to identify the pet’s owner’s, who it turns out had just moved in across the street from where the cat lay after being, apparently, hit by a car. It was difficult for me particularly because Lil’ E didn’t get it and kept meowing at the cat and telling me it had a boo boo. When it took its last breath, Lil’ E told me the kitty cat was tired and was going to sleep. And here in this event I connected with the mail man, as we hunched over a bloody feline corpse, because I was grateful some one else cared, grateful he had a cell phone, grateful he was another freakin adult to balance my feelings of sorrow over my child’s first death experience and make me aware of my own sensibilities.

This week I’ve looked a little more at my myspace friends while I’m bored and waiting for Hubby to get back from his 7am-10:30pm work schedule. I don’t know why, but I’m always so surprised, even disturbed, by the fact that so many old and even current friends are doing such vastly different things than I. I get this snapshot, this weird MySpace thing that it is, of their “profile” and can see how they want to be perceived- what they want people to know about them. Are they edgy? Witty? Do they have lots of friends and comments, do they list a slue of fascinating books or movies in their interests? Sure we all do it, right? Without even thinking much about it, we figure out fairly quickly, though it might change as often as we change our shoes, who we want to be to the rest of the world. And in the end, the things I most want to tell people about myself but don’t because it seems so ridiculous, is that I really, really liked reading a book about pumpkins to my son today. I wonder if a lot of stay-at-home moms feel this way, like the highlight of their day was curbing a temper tantrum so they could enjoy a MUG (”for here!”) of java at a coffee shop fairly uninterrupted- I mean this is like a humongous personal feat, people! But when you look around and see other adults in the world DO NOT CARE about whether or not you got your toddler to eat zucchini, it can feel as though the entire ball of earth is a black hole that has just swallowed you up because you are completely, eerily, alone. Like, “wow, this is kinda crazy… what am I living my life for if these are my daily highlights? where is my life going? who am I? Is any one else here? Hello?” (echoes ensue, yada yada yada.)

This is only one small piece of the puzzle as I uncover this strangely not-here-but-here mood I’ve been in, hidden behind a nice tired smile and way too much talking.