Companionship, Camaraderie and Christmas Trees

Today we ventured into the Big Apple to see the one and only Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.  Last year the tree hailed from the very town in which we reside.  I'm not sure where this year's was born.  

It is not just the fact that we saw the tree that makes this day blog-worthy, but rather the totality of the adventures that does so.  Allow me, if you will, to guide you through our day.

First off, I would be remiss if I did not point out that today is December 21, 2010.  On this date, the Winter Solstice rode in on the energetic waves of a full moon and total lunar eclipse.  Happy Winter Solstice, everyone!  I set my alarm for 2:40 this morning in order to see the eclipse take place.  It was an amazing sight.  Beautiful beyond words.  Such an amazing gift to behold.  

The moon viewing did throw me for a wee bit of a loop.  I went back to sleep after watching, and upon waking at a reasonable hour of the morning, I had to think back as to whether or not the images were dream images or if I really had been laying on my deck swing at 3:00 AM this morning.  Once I got that all sorted out, I got up and went about getting prepared for the day.

We managed to get the majority of our "chores" completed before our travel-mates arrived.  As Mrs. M and Mini-M walked in, we were just putting on the final touches.  Coats, gloves, scarves, hats all on and we were ready for business.....until Mare and I realized that neither of us had done a diaper check on the KitKats.  So, a couple of diapers later and once again we were ready....after we searched through the stuffed animal "bag" for "Lily Mae", found suitable replacements and showed our guests the pink Christmas tree in the girls' room.  Off we went.....after a couple of bouts of screaming about who would be buckled by whom.  Everyone safely stowed in the van and away we rolled - to the train station.  

Now, if you know me, you know that I thoroughly enjoy rallying the troops, bringing everyone together in the spirit of teamwork and camaraderie, no matter the difficulty of the task at hand.  (Keep this in mind as you read on.)  

Tickets acquired, we made our way to the inside of the train station for a "potty break".  Yes, the five minute drive to the train station was arduous and YES, 'twas I who needed the break.  The girls (Baby Ruth, KitKats, AND Mini-M) promptly strategically placed themselves in random seats so as to include the other riders in our "team".  Mini-M did a fabulous job of quietly "meditating" while the other three (my three young ladies) did their best to counter her quiet.  Finally aboard the train, everyone did very well.  Arrival at the Penn Station and ensuing visit to the facilities there also went rather smoothly, except for the part where I had to squeeze into an undersized stall with a KitKat and Baby Ruth (remember, we are all about teamwork) who was complaining about the automatic flusher AND the less than pleasant scent of the train station restroom.  (Curse my teeny bladder)  ;-)

Finally at the tree, we admired her splendor from just a few feet away.  We took photos - we even included strangers in our pictures - wouldn't want anyone to feel left out.  We took photos for strangers, we bumped into folks that we didn't know, we shared wall space with random folks as we watched the skaters on the ice below.  It was lovely.  A reunion of sorts of many folks who have never met and will likely never meet again, all in the spirit of viewing a magnificent tree, covered in colorful, sparkling lights.

We admired the beautiful decorations as we made our way to a most delightful bakery where we purchased some decadent treats.  Giant red Christmas balls made for a wonderful backdrop for treat eating.  Our teamwork activity here consisted of a "who can get the most icing on your face" challenge followed by "who can feed the pigeons the largest bite of cupcake" challenge.  We assisted with stranger photos here also, then headed for the subway.  On the way to the subway we made sure to make all of the folks dressed in character costumes (from Elmo to Mickey/Minnie Mouse to Sponge Bob and Santa) feel welcome in the city.  We gave hugs, high fives, low fives and wide-eyed stares, even a pocketful of change to someone's stocking.  Kelsie even gave an NYPD officer a very nice wave and a hearty "helwo".

A couple of subway stops later and we were at our dining destination, carefully chosen by Mrs. M and her area expertise.  (A FABULOUS "tour guide", I must say.)

The girls (and by "the girls" I really only refer to three of the four little people with us), once again, wanted to help everyone to feel at home in the restaurant.  They did what kids do.  Stevie announced that the restroom here smelled much better than in the train station.  (Thank goodness!)

Our day concluded with a rather uneventful subway ride back to Penn Station, though I should note that Kelsie decided that she would much prefer to stand on the subway than sit.  She also demonstrated her superior listening skills by following none of my instructions but listening intently to the kind gentleman next to her.  

We arrived back at Penn Station just in time to catch an express train home, despite our slow moving pedestrian train as we hopped our way down the steps.  Okay, so it was just Kelsie who was hopping, then leapt from the last three steps, leaving me with nothing but a mitten in my hand.  Thankfully Mare had her other hand.  We hopped aboard the train and walked to and fro until two kind gentlemen finally consolidated seats and gave the seven of us a section together.  We entertained the passengers on this otherwise "quiet car" by playing games such as "I spy", "how far can I fit under the seat", "musical seats" and by just plain squealing.   (Not sure if we were on a designated "quiet car", but at least we didn't get kicked off the train.)  Stevie included the nice man behind us in "I Spy".  He was a good sport.

We finally arrived back at the beginning leg of our journey and began the stroll to the car.  For some reason, the majority of the folks who got off the train at this stop were in a bustling hurry as though they were about to miss the last connecting space shuttle out of cape canaveral.  This bustling not only seemed odd to me due to the fact that the parked cars are not likely to drive away themselves BEFORE the driver gets in them, but also raised my concerns with holding tightly to slow moving kiddies who insist on hopping every couple of steps.  This concern was heightened as we made our way down the steps to street level.  Kiera poking along on one side of me and Kelsie hopping happily on the other.  Kelsie also likes to bring folks together in camaraderie and teamwork.  She managed to hop herself sideways on the steps and appeared to be falling.  However, I still had her hand.  Rather than just stand up, though, she decided to turn the opposite direction which REALLY freaked out the folks behind us.  Quite a few kind strangers came swooping in to help us (teamwork) as Kelsie finally stood up and unpretzled herself and resumed her hopping.  It was at about this point that Kiera's pokiness lead to me scooping her up and carrying her, which lead to a slipping of her mitten.  Once again, we worked the crowd by loudly exclaiming, "My Mitten, my mitten!"  

I turned and looked -  no mitten on the steps.  The folks around us looked.  No mitten.  Kelsie hopped.  No mitten.  I ensured Kiera that I would find the mitten AFTER we allowed all of the other people to pass by.  Kelsie hopped, Kiera screamed and the nice man behind me noticed that the mitten was still on Kiera's hand.  (Mind you, at this point we are only about 1/4 of the way down the steps)  Kelsie hopped in joy and someone carefully removed the mitten and placed it on Kiera's arm (which was pretty close to my chin at this point).  By now we had generated quite a bit of assistance from the bustling folks behind us, and if they weren't helping us, they certainly were watching the traveling spectacle!  I'm also pretty certain that a few of the commuters had joined Kelsie on her stair hopping crusade, though I didn't turn around to see for sure.  In my mind, as I carried Kiera's mitten in my teeth, I envisioned an entire stairway full of tired commuters happily hopping down each step and squealing with delight at each landing.  (Camaraderie)

 We are finally home and after only one whack in the head with a plastic baby doll head between the KitKats and two Mommy tantrums (one of which resulted in multiple ornaments being removed from the tree to encourage better listening skills  from the 5 yr. old), the cherubs are tucked into bed sound asleep.

All in all, it was a beautiful day with terrific kids and wonderful friends - the type of friends who seem like they have been a part of your life since the beginning of time.  A very special day indeed.

Another Site? Same Name?

 I am in a quandary and taking a break from the vacation posts.  You see, this site is meant to showcase our photos, especially those with the affirmations.  Beyond that, the plan is to add my own thoughts on whatever comes to mind, most of which pertain to the spiritual and interconnectedness of us all.  I registered the name, Soul Musings, with the county clerk, just like I’m supposed to.  I have a FEIN #.  I’m thinking that I’m all set to get out and peddle my wares.  Then Mare “googled” Soul Musings.  Yep.  There’s another one.  The nature of the site is different - still spiritual and seems to be a like minded individual.  No artwork displayed, and many wonderful things posted.  While it is different from mine, I still feel odd.  Actually, on some level, I can hear my inner doubting Thomas saying, “See, I told you.  Why would YOU think that you have an original idea?  Someone has already done it, just like your other ideas.  Just stick with your day job and forget it.”

    The interesting part of this, however, is that although I hear this voice, on a deeper level I simply FEEL that I still need to keep going.  The name is the same, the message is similar, but the content and delivery are very different.  Perhaps this is another, more striking example of the interconnectedness of us all.  Who knows, perhaps I will make contact with the owner of the other site and we will join forces!

SouL_MusingS

Vacation Dreams

Vacation, Night 2 - wee hours of the morning.

Dream: 

Office like place.  Two office spaces connected through adjoining doors.  The door could be unlatched from the opposite side by reaching one's hand through.  The “other” office was like an “alternate universe”. (yes, I did watch a Fringe episode before going to bed.) I was with a group of people and we had been on the "other" side.  We returned and brought back all of the “toys” that we had taken.  Actual toys - stuffed animals, legos, toy helicopters, etc.  Some were broken.  The “guy” in charge said that none should have been broken.  He said that the broken toys meant that we had maintained an attachment to them and had we not been attached, they would not have been broken.  I struggled with this and my thought process was as follows:

If we are told to bring the toys back with us and that they are to remain intact, then wouldn’t we, by default, be maintaining an attachment to them?  We would want to protect them and keep them safe.  Therefore, we would be attached.  (This was going on inside my head within the dream.  I didn’t actually ask the question, and on some level, what the “guy” was saying made sense and I knew it to be the truth.)

Upon waking, which I was very glad to do because of the continued strange nature of this dream, I filled Mare in on all the details.  (There was a lot more to it, but the "attachment aspect" seems the most significant right now.  The backwards bathing suit, missing the bus, driving with an old friend and seeing the home of my deceased grandparents take a backseat to the above.)  As I was describing it to her, it hit me.  The “guy” was indeed correct.  

We do not need to “hold on” to things/people to keep them safe.  We need to let them go.  By releasing the attachment and letting them go, we are trusting in the will of the Universe.  We are trusting that they will be safe.  It is the doubt that we bring into the situation that allows for things to be broken.  In the dream, we all needed to simply trust that the toys would be safe and safe they would be.  The attachment was created by the DOUBT related to their safety.  It was because of this doubt that some of the toys were harmed.  

To release the attachment does not mean to release caring or to release intentions for the Highest Good of oneself or others.  Releasing attachment means simply to release the doubts and fear associated with a LACK of caring and good.

I have been told, I have read, I have even told others and myself to Let go and Let God (or Let go and Let Flow).  Saying and doing are two different things, but with each “eureka experience” such as this dream, I feel closer to my goal, closer to the present moment, closer....to my Highest Good.

Namaste'

(I mentioned above that I had watched a "Fringe" episode prior to going to bed.  I am guessing that there are a few folks out there who may say that this dream was not so much a lesson as it was a continuation of the events of my day.  That is entirely possible and is certainly a valid position to take in dream study and interpretation.  Here is my thought on the matter:

Our dreams, our lessons and our Spiritual Journeys occur in the form necessary for us to understand the deeper meaning.  By presenting to me in the manner in which this dream did, it was not difficult for my brain to process the data.  It was already in a familiar form.  I just needed to delve a tiny bit deeper to glean the underlying meaning.  What's more, someone else could have had the same dream and it could have taken a totally different meaning!  Incredible, isn't it?  Dream study and interpretation, like poetry and other art forms, is in the eye of the beholder.  Perspective......it's all about perspective.)

Check out SouL Musings for affirmation photos related to releasing attachment.

Sometimes a Fantasy, is Allllll ya need......

It's Labor Day weekend, summer is winding down, fall is winding up and the fun continues!  With three girls under the age of five all anxious to get back to dance class, the oldest anxious to start pre-school, and the twins looking forward to dance class (yep, it's all about balway - aka ballet), I figured that I should have something to fill my time.  I mean, really, while Mare is busy running around with the girls, keeping up with the housework, walking the dogs, cleaning the bird cages, taking time for her own sanity and making my lunch, there's GOT to be something for me to busy myself with.
(FREEZE.....don't smack me or make that tsk-tsk sound....keep reading......)
So, of course I do have my day job to go to.  That's fun and time consuming.  Then there's Karate and fitness fun time - fun, healthy, simply a way of life.  There's house-cleaning, bird cage cleaning, dog walking, playtime with the kiddies, conversation and camaraderie with my wife, and simply taking time to enjoy this Beautiful Journey of Life.  BUT, since that's all child's play, I decided that I should get off my butt and take part in a FANTASY FOOTBALL LEAGUE!!!!!
OH YEAH!!!  Look out Chambursburg Alum's, MY TEAM IS GONNA ROCK!!!!
The Draft is Sunday and the trash talk is already humming!
As I washed the dishes this evening, I went through my draft choices in my head.  First player that came to mind......William "The Refrigerator" Perry.  oops.  ok, not gonna work.  Next:  Joe Theismann....ok....Joe Nameth?  ummm.....ooohh, I got it....Emmitt Smith....er......I then realized that I have absolutely NO idea who plays where, does what with whom, why or when.
I consider myself an athlete, both past and present.  I love athletic things, I even enjoy watching football and root for the Brooklyn Dodgers any chance I get!  (*wink*)  But what am I thinking?
No worries, I'll keep talking trash and convince everyone of my stellar statistical mind, but the reality is that any "good" draft choice or game winning line-up that I post will be born purely out of intuition and luck.
Hopefully I will get home from work in time to meditate and clear my Third Eye Chakra before the draft!
(geeeez, I hope none of my fellow league mates read this - don't want to let the cat out of the bag on this one!)

Kryptonite.

A super hero (heroine) should never divulge their weakness.  Unless, of course, that super hero wants others to feel more secure in their own “areas needing improvement”.  I suppose it could even be categorized less as an expression of weakness and more as gallant leaps outside the comfort zone.  I mean, let’s think about it.  In order for a super hero to be “super”, she or he must be constantly one step ahead of the villain, right?  For that to happen, the faithful heroine must keep the training and learning curve alive by exposing herself to new and sometimes difficult situations.  It is possible that within those situations, their may be persons/places/things/scenarios that bring about a less that heroic appearance to the super hero.

For example, Superman had everything going for him - good looks, charm, a good cover in Clark Kent, and he could fly.  He was more powerful than a locomotive, he could stop a speeding bullet with his chest!  He could overpower a room full of 50 villains while leaping over a tall building in a single bond, but put one little colorful stone from the planet Krypton near him and it was all over.  Superman wilted like week old roses.

The other day, I decided that it was time to expand my super hero skills.  I took a flying leap outside of my comfort zone and landed smack-dab in the middle of a pile of Zumbanite.  I should give some very important background information here, in order for the big picture to be crystal clear.

My ventures into the world of rhythm and movement were back in high school when I was in the band and glee club.  There was the jazz band - a wee bit of be-bopping happened there.  I played the trumpet, so not much more than a bob of the head or tap of the foot going on for me.  There was the marching band.  We marched.  One foot in front of the other, head level, rolling from heel to toe on the outside of the foot and squeezing the cheeks (not the ones on our faces) tightly together as though we were holding marbles between them.  There was no room for shoulder swaying, hip thrusting or belly swinging there!  We did, however, “Play that funky music, white boy” and made sure to “get down and boogie” without tipping our boxy feather toting hats off of our heads.  Now, the Glee Club was a slightly different story.  There I had the opportunity to bust some moves in the girls ensemble.  We rocked out with a jazz square or two.

All of that was over 15 years ago, so any “skills” that I may have had simply evaporated over the years.  I have played field hockey, basketball, softball and I even spent some time on the track team.  None of these activities involve any sort of fancy hip or shoulder movements.  These days I am accustomed to linear activities.  I study a style of Martial Arts that involves kicking and punching in straight lines and defending ourselves by using the shortest distance between two points.  It is methodical,  powerful and doesn’t require any fancy hip or shoulder action.

With all of the above in mind, it should come as not surprise that I found (part of) my own personal “kryptonite” - Zumba.  (Really, it goes beyond Zumba to any sort of dance.)  If you don’t believe me, just ask those who were present for the class.  Everyone with whom I have spoken who has participated in Zumba has told me what a wonderful workout it is.  I have no doubt that they are telling the truth, however, I think the key is that you have to keep moving.  I spent so much time trying to figure out which way to go so as not to crash into a wall or another person, that I never quite got “jiggy with it”.  I did, however, get rather winded, but that was partially from the laughter when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror (better to laugh than cry, I always say), and partially from the stress of seeing my heroic self-image crumble to the ground in a puddle of Zumba-muck.   I think that maybe my body just doesn’t work in the way that some folk’s do.  It’s the smooth flow that throws me off kilter.  The feet go this way, the arms go that way and the shoulders and core go somewhere else in between.  My feet wanted to go towards the door, my head wanted to hide under a rock and my core had stage fright and froze right where we stood.  

Every now and again, I would catch on to the movement, but by the time I got the hands and feet coordinated together, it was time to move on to a different song.  The general rule of thumb, it seems, is to just keep moving.  I did my best, but I felt like a hamster trapped in a ball avoiding all of the skilled artists dancing happily around me.  I tried correlating the movements with karate techniques.  When we did the head and chest circle things, I thought of avoiding knife attacks.  This was a slight overkill on my part, but it got my head moving.  Some of the arm movements became strikes, and the fancy feet were just that - fancy (though not at all to be classified as graceful).  The unfortunate part of this mental imagery that I was using was that it caused my mind to wander.  I would then get so caught up in my visualization that I wouldn’t recognize immediately when the rest of the folks changed direction.  I never actually crashed into anyone, but that was out of sheer luck, I think. 

Despite the fact that I gave the appearance (at least I think so) that I have absolutely no rhythm or skill, I think the class was a success overall.  As I made mental correlations with techniques from the martial arts realm, I realized (again) the interconnectedness of all things.  There are styles of martial arts that are meant to appear as dance so that an “outsider” won’t know what is occurring.  Dancers dance to music.  Dance is a form of total athleticism.  Athletes (in many other sports, i.e. field hockey, softball, basketball, football, you get the point) often listen to music before competing.  Musicians, like athletes and dancers spend hours and hours practicing and honing their skills.  People (in general) are entertained and amazed by all of the above, just as we are all amazed by “superheroes”.   

All of these thoughts ran through my mind as I jumped, jived and wailed, bopped, hopped, twisted and turned.  It was not long before I realized that my mind hand wandered a wee bit too far and I was clearly not doing the same things that the rest of the participants were doing.  I can only hope that I wasn’t picking my nose or anything more embarrassing than proving that I have not two, but at least three or four left feet.

The truth of that matter is, however, that in order to grow, we truly must leave our comfort zone at times.  I ventured out into the world of Zumba, got scared, and returned to my comfort zone immediately afterwards by taking a Yoga class.  As much as I “fear” losing my super powers to  Zumbanite, I also recognize the experience as a wonderful opportunity.  Throughout my life, I, like many other people, have done only those things that I have been good at.  I have stayed away from those things with which I did not feel total confidence.  I may never become a dancer or a Zumba instructor, but I am beginning to learn that it is okay to simply have fun and enjoy what is happening at the moment.  It’s okay to have many left feet, as long as those feet are given the freedom to flow in the way that they are able to flow at a given time.  We need not “force” our feet or anyone else’s feet to travel in a particular direction.  We need only trust in the “force” and allow our feet to travel in the direction of our Highest Good.

Look out, Zumbanite, here I come!!!!!!  

It's All Fun and Games Until.........

If you have read my Facebook update for today, you already know the main subject of this post.  However,  you have not received the full impact of the day's adventures.  Read on, if you so choose.

The Start


It was a bright and sunny morning that began with a short drive to leave a car at a garage followed by a lovely bike ride through the park to get back home.  I decided during the ride that I really should do this every day that I am off work (the bike ride, not the car to garage part).  It was really a lovely ride.  Now, as is our usual "M.O." (That's "cop talk" for Modus Operandi, btw - or so they tell me), Mare and I were in a bit of an individually collective rush.  She wanted to go for a walk with Lucy (Lab) before Stevie and I needed to leave for Stevie's day at Dance camp.  I pedaled as fast as my little legs could go and made it back just in time.

We can fast forward a wee bit here.  No one needs to know that the girls watched an episode of Avatar: The last Air Bender while I showered and that we had scrambled eggs after that, then started to get Stevie dressed for camp as Mare arrived back home with Lucy.  Since there is no need to put that part in, I'll skip right to the part where Stevie and I were just about to walk out the door when Mare yelled something to the effect of, "Oh No!  Holy Sh%t!  What is.....we......we.....we have a leak!"
"huh?" I said, with the usual level of brilliance that I display around the house.  Then what she had said registered with my cognitive senses and I darted to the front room where she was standing and staring at the ceiling.

Sure enough, there it was.  A crack in the ceiling with little bubbles lining the edge of it and drips of water going "plop", "plop", "plop" onto the table underneath.  Crap.  Definitely a leak.  Obviously.  Not that I doubted Mare's assessment by any means, I was just hoping that maybe something had spilled onto the ceiling and was dripping innocuously into the air and evaporating before causing any puddles.  Now, the positive part about the water dripping in this particular area is that it was over top of a table of houseplants, so, I simply pulled the table forward and allowed the water to "plop", "plop", "plop" into the plants.

Putting our heads together to determine the source of the leak, we concluded that it was, in fact, NOT the toilet based solely on the layout of the house and fact that the bathroom is not over that particular area.  (We are clearly destined to be the next Cagney and Lacey.)  After some brief pondering and a sprint up the stairs, I was able to determine that the leak was coming from the area of the upstairs window containing the air conditioner.  Apparently when I installed it, I did not provide enough of a tilt for the condensation to drain out the back and it had pooled into the window sill and begun draining into the wall, thus seeping its way out to the ceiling and down through the pre-fab crack.  (Pre-fab crack sounds much better than just letting you think that we have cracks in our plaster ceilings.)

Now might be a good time to remind those who may have forgotten that I have a "special" gift.  It is called "distractabilititis" or, as Mare calls it, "adult A.D.D."  Personally, I think it is just an underrated ability to juggle multiple activities/tasks.

Anyway, being so concerned about the ceiling and a.c., I darted off with Stevie to camp, then headed to the gym for a rigorous workout.  (Exercise always helps me get focused on what needs to be done.)  Then I stopped by Target to pick up a new Britta pitcher since ours had mysteriously thrown itself onto the floor when Mare took it out this morning.  (forshadowing, perhaps?)

The Fix Begins


Upon returning home, I began my attack on the situation at hand.  I went up to check the floor and dripping situation.  The a.c. was off and heat rises, so it was quite toasty upstairs.  The good news was that the dripping had stopped.  Simple enough to remedy, I thought.  I shall simply take the unit out, place a bit of wood underneath, and tilt it back so that the water drains outside rather than in.  And so I went to work.

I went to the garage, found some wood and cut it to size.  I went back upstairs, then realized that I needed the screwdriver that I had left downstairs.  I went back down and found the needles (for inflating balls) that I had just purchased at Target, looked for my flat basketball and had a snack.  Finding the basketball and pleasantly full from my snack, I went to the garage for the wood that I had forgotten out there.  I pumped up the basketball, made a couple of shots, then remembered the wood.
Upstairs with the wood I went, then back down for the screwdriver that was still downstairs.  While getting the screwdriver, I also grabbed the tub and tile caulk.  Back upstairs I trotted and proceeded to begin the recaulking of the edge of the bathtub.  I then realized that I had planned to replace the gasket behind the tub drain, so using the screwdriver that I now had in my hand for removal of the air conditioner, I removed the overflow cover from the tub.  Of course, in order to get the old gasket off, I needed to be BEHIND the tub, so I pulled all of the laundry out of the closet in order to get to the pipes. It was then that I realized just how hot it really was upstairs, which reminded me that my REAL mission was the air conditioner reconfiguration.  So, back to the bedroom I went, screwdriver in hand, and proceeded to pull the unit out of the window.

Everything in place, I was now ready to return the air conditioner to its rightful place on the sill.  I popped that puppy in there and realized that I needed the window to open just a wee bit more.  In order for that to happen, I needed to release the top part of the window and open it as though I were removing the bottom pane, this way, the top part of the pane tilts in and the bottom remains in the track.  The window was now free to move, so I pushed up.  Nothing.  Pushed harder and still nothing.   Frustration started to set in, so I rooted to the ground and pushed from the very core of my being.
Up went the window in the blink of an eye.  In that same blink, OUT went the air conditioner which had, apparently, been leaning against the window for support.  Suddenly, the air conditioner that had been in my window was replaced by a power strip, dangling as if to say, "you plug one more thing into me and I'm going to jump too!"

"Oh F*&k," I exclaimed, and then began to laugh so hard that I was crying.  As I was laughing, I was wondering what the heck was so funny, yet I couldn't stop laughing.  Mare wasn't sure if I was crying in pain or laughing.  She heard a thud, the birds flew from their perches and scattered, the dogs ....well, the dogs didn't really do anything.

The Aftermath

On the ground, down below, lay our air conditioner.  No longer in any condition to provide air for us.  It lay broken and mangled.  The damp ground did not provide a welcome cushion for the fall.  Humpty Dumpty would not be put together again.  And I laughed.  Mare came up to investigate and she laughed at the fact that I was laughing.  We laughed.

She walked back downstairs, I sighed, wiped my eyes and turned to close the window which promptly fell forward and whacked me on the forehead.   I stopped laughing.
I checked for blood, saw none, then saw myself throwing the window out with the air conditioner.  I quickly realized that this would not be a positive course of action and just yelled at the window instead.  That was much more effective.  The window did not apologize.  I think the bonk on the head was the window's way of letting me know that it was grieving the loss of the air conditioner as much as we were.  Clearly windows have feelings too.

So, having more time on my hands since I had no air conditioner to reconfigure, I returned to the task of removing the gasket from the partially dismantled bath tub overflow drain.  While removing the old gasket, I thought it would be a good idea to fish around under the floorboards behind the tub and see if I might locate the electrical box for the kitchen ceiling light.  I closed my eyes (which was totally unnecessary since I couldn't see under there anyway, but at least this way I could ward off any monsters that might come out after me) and reached as far as I could under the floor boards.  I touched something hairy.  It was prickly and hairy.  I would have jumped, but my hand was under the floorboards and I was in the closet.  (the actual closet, not the "other" closet....I came out of that one years ago.)  Anyway, I closed my eyes tighter and felt again......I gently grabbed the hairy, prickly thing and pulled it out.
It was a vacuum cleaner brush attachment!
Very interesting.  What else could be in there?

The Search, The Grab, The Conclusion


We obviously needed to repair and replace a couple of things around the house, so after picking Stevie up from camp, we decided to take full advantage of the hour prior to getting her back for her evening class.  I darted into Home Depot to grab a new gasket and an air conditioner.  No on the a.c., yes on the gasket.  Lowes was also sold out of air conditioners.  That left only one place available.....Walmart.  *sigh*
Walmart came through for us.  I grabbed one of the two remaining reasonable sized units available, balanced it on my cart (with the help of a very kind gentleman - customer, that is) and scampered off to pay for my treasure.

After dance class, I put on a bit of a show for the neighbors as I tried numerous positions in my failed attempts to get the air conditioner out of the box.  I finally conceded my loss and drug the open box across the grass to the front door.   Eventually I got it out with Mare's assistance and lugged the thing upstairs where I promptly got jammed in the doorway to the bedroom, air conditioner stuck on one side, my finger on the other.  After a lengthy howl, I realized that I needed to back up, turn around, and back myself into the room.

A wave of the magic wand and "poof" the new unit was placed in the window and purring like a mountain lion that just swallowed a snake.  This thing is rather large and much louder than the one that got away.  The important thing is that it works and it did not fall out of the window.

We now have a new air conditioner, a new overflow drain gasket, and a freshly caulked tub.  I have a dent in my finger and a bump on my head, and I am now certain that there is a pot of gold, a gnome, and perhaps some other fun treasures strategically placed within the walls and ceilings of our house.

Tune in tomorrow for a quick recap of my evening venture outside of my comfort zone.....aka. Zumba

Thanks for stopping by!

The Semi-Random, Less than Predictable Adventures of Kay Oss

Hello, my name is Kay.   I'm basically a drifter.  I go where ever and whenever the wind takes me, in fact, half the time I don't know where I am!  It's okay, though.  I rather enjoy the element of surprise.  The best is the look on people's faces when I end up on their doorstep.  I usually drop in at just the right moment, at least by my standards.  The funny thing is, no one seems to have the same standards as I do.  I mean, we all need a sense of adventure, right?  So, I'm not sure why folks seem to get upset soon after I am dropped off. Maybe it would all make more sense if I just take you along on a typical day for me (and by "day", I mean a period of time.  Light or dark makes no difference in my book).

Are you ready?  Here we go:
I'm hanging out under my favorite Japanese Maple tree, reading a book and just enjoying the twilight hours.  I hear a rustling in the leaves and I know it's time to fly.  I quickly tuck my book into my bag and tighten my straps.
Whooooooooooosh........I'm (we are) off!  (Hold on tight!!)  Soaring on the air currents, no particular destination in mind.
I learned a long time ago to make no attempt at controlling my landing spot.  As it turns out, where I go is a completely random event.  What happens when I get there is often random as well, although the folks who are there do have some input as to what actually occurs during my stay.  The weird part is that they seldom realize that they have any say whatsoever.  So strange!  The most interesting thing, from my perspective, is that there is ALWAYS someone there.  I have never landed on a completely deserted island or even in an empty house.
As suddenly as I am swooped up, I feel myself falling.  It's not like one of those dream falls - you know the kind I'm talking about - where you are falling and falling and then just as you are about to hit bottom, you wake up with a tremendous start, limbs flailing in all directions.  Anyway, it's just a gradual float downward and then PLOP!  I'm sitting in front of a lovely little house.
On this occasion, it is a nice little house with semi-manicured flower gardens, bricks that had been painted and are now peeling and siding that is definitely in need of a good powerwashing.  (I am not being critical here, just descriptive.)  I like to look around before I go inside.  Sometimes it just doesn't seem worth my time to even try to take up shelter for any period of time.  This house, however, is perfect.  In fact, I am so excited to introduce myself to the residents!  Come on!  Let's go in!!!!  I'm not even going to ring the bell, I'm just going right in.....wait......uh oh.....dogs....Perfect!  That makes it even better!  I LOVE dogs!  I love the sounds that they make when I ring the doorbell.  Such beautiful barks, whines, growls and howls!  Let's see what these two can do!
"DING DING"
(Obnoxious barking, yipping, groaning, growling, and howling ensue.)
Ah, perfect!  What a din.  And....yep, there it is, the shouting above the doggie chatter.
The door opens and I slip in without a sound (well, without a sound on my part, anyway).  This is when the fun really begins.  The now irate home owner is behind me looking out the door, clearly curious as to what has started the bark-bash.  Of course, I'm already inside, so they have no idea that it was me.  Soon enough they will welcome me to their humble abode.
Now that I've heard the chatter of the dogs (who are still at it, by the way), it is time to see what else can be accomplished.
Ah, birds.  Perfect.
A little wave of my hand and so begins the chorus of squawks.  Dancing, flapping, jingling the bells.  Ooh, one of the dogs was startled by the bell and bumped into the cage, startling the white bird.  Now she is in flight.  Wow!  Great wing span!
Oops, she has knocked over the bottle of water on the table.  Uh oh.  Here comes a toddler.
Ouch!  That was a loud scream!
Apparently the little one is afraid of the flying, squawking, water spilling avian.
Another adult is now bounding down the stairs.
"What's going on?" she asks as two more children who appear to be under the age of 5 come running from the back room.
"Mommy, Momma!  The dogs are barking and I spilled my cereal!" cries one.
The other states, matter of factly, "I stinky".

"Aaahhhhh," cries the door opening adult in answer to the question posed by the other, "Welcome to CHAOS!"

And there we have it.  I have been welcomed to their home.  I, Kay Oss, shall spend the night here tonight.  That is, unless these folks figure out how to adjust quickly........

Night on the town (or "Oh my God, that feels so good, you have NO IDEA!")

Notice:  1.)  If you have children, you are likely to identify closely with the contents of this post.

              2.) If you are thinking about having children, you may or may not want to continue.

                    a.) Social misfits and those who prefer the "quiet" life - you are safe to continue.

                    b.) Social butterflies, those who prefer the "wild" life - carefully consider your options..... 

Okay, now that the official "Notice" is out of the way, let me continue.  (If anyone is still reading...."tap, tap tap....testing 1,2,3.....tap....is this thing on??")

Once or twice a month, or every other month, or so, Mare and I afford ourselves the opportunity to venture out - alone.  (By "alone", I mean just the two of us.)  I should specify.  Whenever Nanny or Gram come to visit, we leave Baby Ruth and the KitKats with the lucky "Grand" and off we go, usually to dinner and a movie.  Good times.

Our plan tonight was just that, well, except for the dinner part.  In a concerted effort to consume low calorie, healthy treats, Mare whipped up a tasty dinner for us all.  We then planned to go to a movie.   You guessed it, the key word there was "PLANNED".  We were very well intentioned.  Dinner was planned and in the works in plenty of time.  Pajamas were ready for the Chillin's.  Nanny was set with her evening activities and bed time rhetoric.  I even completed the set up of the two new car seats!  We were Rockin' and Rollin'!

Now, who can tell me what car seats come in?  Anyone?  Yes, that's correct.  They come in boxes.  Very large boxes.  We had two.  What is the best toy EVER?  (If you are connected to me on Facebook, you already know the answer, so no cheating!)  YES!  Excellent!  CARDBOARD boxes that are large enough to hold a small child.  What is better?  (Yes, there is something even better.)  Our boxes were large enough to hold not only one small child, nor two, but rather a small child AND an adult.  I think it is needless to say but I'll put it out there anyway.  Baby Ruth and the KitKats and I spent the next 40 minutes or so playing in the boxes.  We played roller coaster, we hopped around the room in the box, we slid into the boxes, we tipped the boxes over (landing on the soft bag of stuffed animals).  It was a grand time.  

Next thing we knew, it was time for dinner and Mare and I had only 30 minutes to eat, change clothes and head to the movies.  Not wanting to rush and get indigestion, we decided that a trip to the bookstore for some browsing and bonding would suffice.  At least we would be out and about.  So, we put the girls to bed, tucked everyone in (including Nanny) and bid them all good night.  Then, we started thinking outside the box.  Since we would be heading out anyway, why not stop by Target to return some umbrellas which we had purchased earlier in the day for the KitKats and which had promptly broken in one way or another.  While in the shopping area, we decided, we may as well stop by Walmart to pick up the Ship to Site package that was now available.  We would still have plenty of browsing and bonding time.  

First stop, Target.  I waited in the car while Mare made a successful return.  We then headed over to Walmart.  Now, I have not been in a Walmart in quite some time and I am very much a creature of habit, especially when it comes to stores and shopping.  I go to the same places, walk the same route through the store, look at the same items and areas, and usually purchase similar items each time.  (fyi, see # 2(a) above)  Well, what a special treat it was to venture into a new realm.....the realm of Walmart.  It is different there.  I'm not sure what makes it so different.  I mean, the products and prices are very similar to Target, so why the difference in the clientele?  Alas, that is a discussion for another post.  Anyway, immediately upon entering, I was drawn to the rack of "MMA" shorts.  I had no idea that Walmart carried such items!  Much to my dismay, the only pair in my size was a less than attractive pair of brown camouflage shorts.  During my search, Mare had ventured off to pick up our shipment.  I spent the next few minutes wandering aimlessly about in the front of the store looking for her like a lost child.  Finally, I decided to venture off to the restroom all by my "big girl" self.  Just as I entered the stall, she called me to let me know her exact whereabouts.  Based on the background noise from my end of the line, I think it was unnecessary for me to tell her where I was.

Finishing my "business", I meandered through the store, browsing and picking up a few necessities that were on sale.  (FYI, Toy Story band aids are only $1.68 right now)  I then made my way to the back of the store for a joyful reunion with my date for the evening.  She had also collected a few "necessities".  (I am looking forward to drawing with the new glitter markers and Color Wonder paper!  Hey, maybe we'll decorate our boxes!)  We even managed to find some new, hopefully heartier, umbrellas for the KitKats.  (As we perused the umbrella selection, I had the mischievous notion to open up ALL of the umbrellas and leave them for the night shift clean up crew.  Of course, having worked in the retail world, I wouldn't dare do such a thing, but it made me giggle nonetheless.)  (again, see #2(a) above)

Our work completed at Walmart, we checked the time and decided that, despite the late hour (it as nearly 9:00 PM), we would carry on with our plan and head to Barnes and Noble.  After all, they are open until 11:00pm on Friday and Saturday nights; probably for folks just like us.  

Upon our arrival at B&N, I insisted that we check the hours, just in case they did close at 10.  I figured there was little point in going in if we had only half an hour.  Mare, on the other hand, thought that would be plenty of time.  Much to my delight, my extended hour hunch was confirmed and we decided to forge ahead. 

"Heck", we thought, "maybe we'll stay until 10:30."  

Mare said, "I don't care, we can even stay until 11:00, as long as I can go right to bed when we get home.  I want to get up early and walk the dogs."  (yep, just what I'm thinking about during a "night on the town" with my wife.)

Anyway, so in we went and decided to get crazy and go to the cafe'.  We ordered caffeinated beverages and began our browsing.  A couple of good finds later, we decided to settle into some seats and begin our bonding.  Mare opened her magazine and I pulled out my laptop.  She read, I composed.  Sickening, the romance, isn't it?  

Every now and again I read a quote to her.  She showed me another magazine that she thought I might find interesting.  I nodded in appreciation as I handed it back to her, barely able to take my fingers from the keyboard lest I not complete my work for the night.  (By "work", I mean "composition", and by "composition", I refer to this Blog post.)

Yes, my friends, we live on the edge of romance and extremism.  We are Livin' Large and Lovin' Life!  I was not able to complete this while in the store.  The "we will be closing in half an hour" announcement came over the p.a. system, and not wanting to be stragglers, Mare promptly paid for our purchases as I closed my laptop.  

We exited the store and Mare then exclaimed something that every "husband type" wants to hear at least once in a while: "Oh my God, that feels so good, you have NO IDEA!"

Yep, she was referring to the balmy air outside the store.  She had been quite chilly inside.

We have now returned home.  Mare has gone to bed as planned, and I am unwinding from our adventures with my "Mac-Daddy", some blue corn chips and a Shipyard Summer Ale.  Now who can top this evening?

C'mon, I dare ya!

;-)

Templates, irony and random musings

The irony of it all.  I just had to do it.....I was perusing the new Blogger templates and I found this one.  It's RAIN on a window.  HA HA HA HA.  It is Not a "sunny day"!  Or is it?
Sometimes I really enjoy a rainy day.  I mean, I enjoy the sun too, but the rain can be nice.  A slow, steady rain, pelting gently against the windows, soaking into the ground for a natural flower watering.  I enjoy it most on a warm summer day.  I even enjoy running in the rain on days like that, though usually I am working.

There are so many lovely templates to choose from.  I'll keep this one for a little while, at least until I feel a need for shift in my Blog feng shui.

Goals and Goal Setting.....my perspective, that is

Yesterday I heard the following exchange between two women a young lady with whom I am familiar and another (an attorney) who I had not previously met:

(A) Attorney: "So, what did you do before this job?"

(YL) Young lady: "Oh, I was a paralegal."

(A) "Really? So, what are your goals now?  Do you have any goals?"

(YL) "No, not really.   I don't have any goals, I mean, this opportunity came along and I decided to take it."

Upon speaking with "YL" after the exchange took place, she informed me that she felt rather silly leading this woman to believe that she had no goals in life.  While she was amused, she felt uncomfortable with the likelihood that this woman was passing judgement on her perceived lack of gusto.  We had a nice chuckle at the probable thought process of the attorney.  Maybe something like, "oh, this poor girl.  She had such a future, now here she is running around carrying papers and getting coffee with no real goals."  On the surface, it may seem exactly that way.  YL may have had a promising legal career ahead of her.  She may have continued her studies and become a high powered attorney, making history with her legal prowess.  Or not.  Who knows and who cares.  YL saw an opportunity in front of her, one that she saw as an exciting adventure (btw, I really can't say what she does, so suffice it to say that it is not a job for just anyone) on which she felt a calling to embark. 

The reality of YL's scenario is that she does, in fact, have goals.  Now, we did not go into a detailed discussion of her long term life plans or anything, but in our brief chuckle over her conversation with the attorney, we did focus on the goals of the moment.  At the moment, ("moment" meaning "this point in time" generally speaking) her goal is to be the best that she can be at whatever it is that she is doing at the time.  An admirable goal, I think.

All of this lead me to ponder the premise of "goal setting".  What exactly does this mean, how important is it, to whom, and why?  Books by "experts" have been written on this subject.  I am not an expert goal writer, or an expert anything, for that matter.  I do, however, have some thoughts on the subject.

Some may argue that goals must be measurable and being the best that one can be at a given time is not directly measurable and therefore cannot be a goal.  Okay, perhaps, but who are we to challenge someone else's goals?  

I am a part of a Martial Arts program in which we often tell students (and as students, are reminded) to set goals, write them down, keep track and then raise the bar as we achieve those goals.  We don't question one-another's mission, as we are all involved in the Martial Arts for our own personal reasons.  We do, however, help to motivate one another to become stronger, quicker, more fluent Martial Artists, and to carry these skills into our everyday lives.  We encourage one another to be the best that we can be and we give one another the space to do so in our own time and in our own way while simultaneously "raising the bar" for ourselves and each other.  The goals that I refer to here are measurable in some way and they are ever changing.  

     So what of the non-measurable goals - those times of “flux” where we are just working to be the best that we can be?  In my mind, this is perfectly acceptable.  I will refer to this as a “tweener-time”.  A time in which we are still working, moving, and living life one day at a time.  A “floatation” time, if you will.  I hesitate to say a time of waiting, because that implies a lack of doing.  I will say a time of being instead.  This might be a time in which we are entering into a new venture with unknown opportunities, or it might be a time just after we have accomplished something that we have been working toward.  It could be any time.  The important thing is that we sometimes need these down times to reflect, regroup and reassess our personal plan.  It is during these times that we are allowing ourselves to be the space in which we can grow and learn and be certain that we are headed in a comfortable direction.  (By “comfortable”, I mean a direction that resonates well within us.)

     An important point to keep in mind, however, is that we might be well served to limit the amount of time that we spend in these “tweener-times”.  I certainly would not give a time-frame, as we are all different.  However, the measure that I like to use is my own level of restlessness.  Personally, I tend to get antsy if I am not working on or toward something specific.  I am learning, however, to embrace the “tweener-times” and use them to my advantage by reflecting and reassessing, then preparing for the next endeavor.   I would say, then, that when restlessness begins to set in, that may be a good time to sit down and plot out a list of goals, plans or intentions.  To use a phrase that I have heard on more than one occasion lately, “write your life plan in pencil”; Or, write out your list of goals, plans or intentions in ink, but be open to the possibility of shifting gears and directions as life moves along.  

In other words, be open to recognizing and seizing opportunities as they come along.   Who wouldn’t want to do that, you might wonder.  I think that most of us want to be open to and recognize opportunities, but sometimes those opportunities are mistaken for roadblocks.  Sometimes, as we travel the pathway to our goals or intentions, we come across some sort of obstacle.  Whether it is physical, emotional, spiritual, alien, or some other entity, the very “thing” that seems to block our path may, in fact, be a doorway to a new beginning.  Whether a roadblock or a doorway, this bump in the road is an opportunity for us to learn and grow.  It very well may turn out that, after stepping through the doorway and achieving a specific goal, we look back at the obstacle and realize that it was vital to the achievement of our goal.  

For instance, I have been working on this post for a couple of days now.  I have encountered many bumps along the way that have precluded me from completing it.  However, each of those bumps has provided me with another bit of insight into what I want to say and how I might say it.  My current, immediate goal is to finish writing this and get it posted!

So here are the bullet points:  (each of which, of course, could easily have an entire chapter devoted to it.)

--  Goals are good whether they are broad and vague to the outsider or are daily/weekly/monthly goals/plans.

--  It is important to allow ourselves to be the space for ourselves and others to achieve and or modify our/their goals.

--  It is important to give ourselves the freedom to “move” and/or shift our focus and our goals

--  Be willing to recognize and seize the opportunity - roadblocks vs. doorways.

What is actually happening with YL is that she has given herself some leeway in her life plan.  She began one path and when a new doorway opened, she remained flexible and followed it.  She has an overview map of the area and is willing to travel previously unchartered territory on her journey through the land.  This, I think, is something that we could all do.  In fact, I think many of us do this, though we may find ourselves resisting a potential opportunity because we see it as an obstacle in our path rather than a doorway to a new journey.  So, let us all embrace our willingness to see the doorways, gather our thoughts and lists of goals and journey together on the Pathway that is before us.

It's All So Clear NOW

Do you ever get the feeling that you are playing a constant game of "catch up"?  Don't worry, that's a rhetorical question.  I feel like this nearly every day.  Always one (or more) steps behind on my "to do" list for the day. 
I know, I know, that's not a very positive way of looking at things.  Pretty much goes against the grain of everything I like to say when speaking from my soap box.  Alas, I speaketh the truth (my truth, as it were).
I think that today I figured out exactly why I am always a task or two behind schedule. 
Aside from the fact that I am certain that I have "Adult A.D.D." (for instance, while cleaning the bedroom, which should consist of dusting and vacuuming, I often find myself constructing a new piece of furniture or rearranging the room), something always comes up.
This evening's adventure sums it up quite nicely.

The background:

My lovely wife baked a banana bread/cake for my co-worker (our neighbor and kind gentleman who looks after our dogs and house when we are away and simply one of the nicest people I have ever or will ever meet.)  She asked my to take it over to him.
 
Here's how it went:
The Beginning:

I grabbed the loaf, stuck it in a bag, grabbed the keys and went to the garage to pump up my bike tires.  (successful on all accounts)
I hopped on my bike and off I went.  I peddled furiously for the 3 blocks that it takes to get to his house.  Knowing that he was at work, I thought it would make sense to "break in" - i.e. enter the house via the door by using a key to open it.  Earlier in the day I had gone over to leave some keys for a vehicle and they were still there....(this is foreshadowing, folks....just not very subtle.  It is also important to note that I have about 6 different sets of keys to different vehicles, houses, offices, etc.  Some are combined, some are not.  Please also note that I did NOT have a cell phone with me.)  Yep, I could probably just stop here, but that would be no fun, so I shall continue.

The Arrival:

I hopped off of my bicycle and trotted happily into the sunroom.  I pulled out my wad of keys and proceeded to jam some keys into the door knob.  (one at a time, of course.)  None worked.  Probably because they were the keys to the back door of MY house.  So, I placed the loaf so gently on the table and hopped back on my bike to peddle home and retrieve the "proper" set of keys.  Surely his house key must be on the other key ring.  Off I went.

Back Home:

I ran in, grabbed the other keys and zipped back over.  (btw, bicycle safety....always wear a helmet!!)

The Re-Arrival:

I hopped off the bike and trotted back into the sunroom, certain that I had the right keys this time.  (still no phone with me, btw, though I did hear a "voice" when I left my house the second time saying, "Wait, grab your personal cell....grab it....I'm serious....you should get it."  To which I responded, "huh, yeah ok, whatever", and off I went Sans phone.)
Needless to say, this was also the wrong set of keys.  Not a one would even fit in the door.  Then it occurred to me.  The door key was attached to the car key that I had brought over and "hidden" earlier in the day.  Duh!  All those trips for nothing.  It had been here the whole time!  As Stevie (formerly known as "Baby-Ruth" in this Blog) would say, "Mommy, you're so SILWY!"
So, I retrieved said keys and, being quite proud of my detective skills and sneakiness of dropping off a prized loaf of Banana Goodness to an unsuspecting pal, I let myself into the house.

The Incident:

As soon as I opened the door, I heard it.  A lovely feminine voice saying, "System Armed.  Disarm System Now", followed by "BEEP BEEP BEEP".  "Back door open. Disarm System now."  "BEEP BEEP BEEP".
So I said, "*(&&^&%***@@@#$%^&^*)*()#)"  Then I spun in a circle looking for a phone that I knew wasn't there.  I then recalled seeing a little flip phone in the car in the driveway.  The car that I had the keys for......PERFECT!!!  I grabbed the phone to call home and get a phone number to call the my pal whose house I had just entered.  Luckily I was able to get through and get the numbers as the alarm was screeching at me in the background.  Unluckily, it was a prepaid cell phone and I had used up the rest of the minutes with that one call.
CRAP.
So, I relocked the house, let the alarm keep screaming at me, and peddled furiously back home to get my cell phone.  (btw, it is a very rare occasion indeed that I don't have at least one, if not TWO phones attached to me.  Of course this is the time I pick to go without technology!)
Faster than the wicked witch going after Toto, I zipped back home, grabbed my phone and dialed. 
I have to confess.  I was talking on the phone while riding.  No, it wasn't hands free.  One hand on the handle bar, the other on the phone, holding it to my ear as I peddled and breathed heavily, hoping to get back with an alarm code before the police showed up and tackled me to the ground.  (This is why it is important to wear a helmet!)
I made it back, re-entered and keyed in the alarm code.  The plan was to escape and be on my way prior to the arrival of the "locals".  That didn't go as planned either. 
Just as I was "sneaking" back out of the house, there they were......the "locals"......out front and coming my way.  Not that it mattered.  I mean, really, how much was I going to get away with on a bicycle anyway?
Thankfully, I had the password and aside from a bit of embarrassment on my part and the loss of the banana bread surprise, there was no harm done and we all went on our merry way.

I'm hoping that is the best friggin' banana bread that my lovely lady has ever made!  (and I'm sure it is.)
So you see, it's not that I procrastinate and make myself fall behind in my "chores".  It's that the universe likes to give little quizzes and drop hints to us just to see if we are paying attention.  There are too many points to mention at which I could have made a teensy tiny turn to avoid all such chaos, so I shall leave it up to interpretation.

And so we have Clarity.

All in a Day's Work

My day began the other morning in the typical manner: wake up, groggily get a cup of freshly ground and brewed coffee (mmmm), shower, get dressed, make breakfast (note, the last two usually occur simultaneously), grab the goodies and run out the door. And so began my adventures.  


Arachniphobicoffeeia  
 
I made my way east, continuing my routine with a coffee pick-up at a "local" Dunkin Donuts. It is at this point that I generally, uneventfully, make use of the restroom. This morning, as I was doing what we ("we" meaning "potty trained humans) do in the porcelain throne room, I saw him. Right in front of me and coming fast; large, black, and hairy, he was coming right at me.  
Faster and faster - it was definitely Aragog! I know they showed his "character" dying in one of the films, but he is out and about ladies and gentlemen!  
As he got closer and larger, it was all I could do to keep from shrieking and running out of the restroom into the parking lot, pants (with all of the attached equipment - those who know what I do know what is attached) around my ankles, hoping against hope that I wouldn't trip and fall and be woven into an intricate web of ARAGOG cuisine. I was, however, frozen, partly due to fear - mostly due to the fact that I really had to pee. I'm sure he smelled my fear. It was one of those moments where time seems to slow down, unfortunately it didn't slow for Aragog. He kept coming at me and I couldn't stop peeing.  
Closer and closer he came; he just kept coming. He was nearly to my right shoe, just millimeters away from my toes, when I finally managed to grab my belt and all it's attachments and leap to safety. I put myself back together faster than Harry can create a patronis charm, washed my hands and I was OUT OF THERE!  
I slammed the door shut behind me to make sure the 8-legged giant didn't come after anyone else. I am certain that the entire eastern seaboard was saved by my courageous act of door slamming. He was, after all, at least the size of a quarter!  


The Squeegee  


Fully recovered from the Aragog incident, I continued on my way and began my search for a squeegee. You see, there are not only gigantic (quarter-size or larger) spiders here in the great Garden State, but also humming bird (or larger) size flying insects which I am fully convinced are filled with tar and purposely fly into the car windshield. Due to the many miles spent traversing the roadways up and down the state, it became imperative that I locate a squeegee.
     I stopped at the first logical place I saw - a gas station.
    The 105 year old attendant was more than happy to assist me.
     I didn't see the usual squeegee on the pump set up, so I said, "Excuse me, Sir, do you have a squeegee?"
     He seemed to be looking in my general direction, so I took that to mean that he did know that a voice had spoken.
     "Hi", I said as I raised my hand in a friendly neighborly sort of way. "Do you have a squeegee for my window?"
     He made a motion with his arm in the general direction of the pump behind me as his vocal cords resonated with a low rumble. I walked toward the pump but still didn't see the squeegee. Meanwhile, the gas-man was assisting another customer with the refueling of his truck. I wandered aimlessly about for a couple of seconds, then decided to try again.
     "Excuse me, I'm sorry, I don't see the squeegee. Where is it again?"
     This time, the ancient fellow gestured toward the building.
     It occurred to me that I must have misjudged the direction of his first gesture, so I sheepishly made my way toward the doorway. I fully expected to find a squeegee and bucket right in front of me, ready for my tar-bug removal project. However, all I found were boxes and a broom handle, minus the broom.
     Now the frustration was beginning to set in. Was this guy just not understanding what I was saying, could he not hear me, or was he just toying with my emotions? Just then, the driver of the freshly fueled work truck piped in.
"What do you need?" he asked, as though he hadn't heard my pleading requests for a squeegee the whole time he was watching his gas get pumped.
     "Oh, I was just looking for a squeegee for the bug-covered windshield, but they don't seem to have one here."
     "Did you try windshield washer fluid?" He asked.
     "Huh?" I muttered intelligently.
     "You know, washer fluid? For the windshield? You put it on there and it helps clean the window?"
     "Yes, I know what it is", I retorted, "but I still need a long object to clean it. My arms just aren't that long." (For the visual, I was dressed in a business suit and driving a large SUV, so the option of cleaning the windshield without an extension of my arm was just nonexistent.)
     "No", he said, "I mean use the windshield wipers. You put the fluid in the tank, then you squeeze the little button and the windshield wipers clean it for you. Did you try that?"
     Unable to bite my tongue any longer, I said, "Sir, I'm not an idiot. I know how to use the windshield wipers and the cleaning function. I have tried that about 10 times and these tar-filled bugs do not come off that way. It will require some scrubbing."

     "Why would you have a squeegee? Is this your gas station? I mean, do you work here?"
     "No, I don't work here, but this is my truck," he said, pointing to the large work truck next to the gas pump.
Not completely sure how to respond, I said, "Oh, ok. Well, I certainly am not expecting you to have the equipment to clean my windshield."
     "Ok, let me see what I have." 
He said this with a tone of utter annoyance, as though I had asked him to use his tongue to clean the bugs from my windshield.  
"No, really sir, it's ok."  
"Fine, just a second, let me just see if I have any glass cleaner," he grumbled as he pulled open his side container door and began to rummage through is things.  
Still not understanding why my windshield project had become so personal to him, I assured him that there was no need for him to dig through is things and that I really didn't have time to continue my quest. He seemed very annoyed and frustrated, but I had no time to help him with that. I hopped back in the car and the tar-bugs and I quickly departed the scene.  
I have no idea why my inquiry into the existence of a squeegee caused such confusion with one (very old) man and such an attempt at martyrdom in another. All I know is that the next time the windshield is covered in bugs, I'm just going to clean it with my sock. It will be less stressful for everyone.  


Sock Puppet??  


Later this same day, the bugs and I and our passengers were stopped at a traffic light. I noticed that the driver of the car in front of us seemed to be in a heated conversation based on the movements of his head. I also noticed that there seemed to be no passenger, so figured he must be on the phone.  
Then, I saw what appeared to be a tiny head in the center of the car. A closer look, (aka, slight lean forward and a squint) revealed something quite interesting. I saw with a tiny bit of surprise and a large dose of certainty, a SOCK on the man's hand.  
Yep, I was certain that he was talking to a sock puppet.  
I stared, dumbfounded. Really? A person talking to a sock puppet? Alone, in the car? Did he think that would count as a passenger for the HOV lane??  
I squinted through the tar-bug splatters and leaned forward to get a better view of the puppet show. My line of sight cleared a bit as I leaned around one of the larger splatters and then I just felt plain silly and rather disappointed.  
There was no sock puppet. No puppet at all. It was just his hand and a cell phone. He may have been talking to the hand, but at least it was holding a communication device, not wearing a sock.  
Crap, I thought. If only that guy would have had a squeegee in his truck.......and then the light turned green.

Light, Love and Beauty

I have embarked on a most intense and personal spiritual quest over the course of the last few months. I suppose it is safe to say that this is not a new quest nor am I alone in my “questing”, as we are all here on this Earth as a sort of adventure to learn all that we can in as many “ways” as we will allow ourselves. (The joy of Free Will!) It is my current plan that this post will be the first of quite a few in relation to this adventure. I think there would be many a spinning head if I were to try to cram everything that I deem important and relevant into one post. SO, get ready to hold on for the ride, if you dare!!!!

Each morning when I wake (or a bit later if I forget), I have been participating in an exercise recommended by my “Spiritual Adviser”. I express my Gratitude for the day to come and I state that I am open to receiving at least two wonderful gifts (or surprises) this day. Here is one of today's gifts:

This evening in the car on my way home from work, I was thinking about a conversation that I would like to have with a dear friend who recently returned to my life after a long absence and has more recently drifted back to the shadows. I began to verbalize my part of the conversation aloud.

“I just wish you could see yourself as you are. You are a wonderful, beautiful woman. Allow yourself to be who you truly are, not who others expect you to be, but WHO YOU ARE, on the inside. You are a beautiful being of Light, Love and Beauty. Be true to yourself and everything else will fall into place.”

It was then that I realized a “voice” was shouting over me (inside my head).

The “voice” said, “Are you listening to yourself? You are talking to YOU!”

Wow!

What an experience.

“I am a beautiful being of Light, Love and Beauty. A wonderful being of Hope, Joy and Peace. I am an extension of God's Grace.” EVERY SINGLE one of us is this! WE are Love. We are ALL extensions of God's Grace. How often we forget this; How long it has been since we have remembered this!

To the dear friend who has helped me get to this point, THANK YOU. Until we meet again, may you see within yourself your own Truth, Love and Grace.

Although I am grieving what appears to be a great loss in my life at the moment, I am also celebrating the many gifts that I have been receiving over the last 6 (or so) months and continue to receive each day. I have received a much needed awakening. The greatest gift in that is that I didn't even know that I was asleep!

As I continue this journey and ponder the many events and lessons along the way, I will continue to share the things that I am learning. I hope that in some way my experiences and “talks with myself” can help others sort through “stuff”. It seems that there truly is good to be found in even the darkest of hours if we allow our own Light to shine long enough to look around us. (and by "around" I mean "within".)

We are all connected. Allow your own Truth to set you free of your personal limitations. Allow yourselves to simply BE Light, Love and Grace and see how the world shines more brightly around you!

Stay tuned for snippets on “Unconditional Love/Unconditional Giving” and quite a few other things that will come to mind when I am less sleepy.