A Calm Place

This weekend was a quiet one, with family time spent (just the three of us), and a date night enjoyed, some new plants purchased for the garden, and tiles chosen for the shower. We are going to be doing some work (well, the Hub Dude is going to be doing some work- he is the plumber, after all) in our shower, fixing leaks and replacing some horribly painted floor tiles. Sadly, the people who owned our house before it was ours did a whole lotta work that wasn't done well, or in a quality manner.  We have slowly been fixing all of the things that are falling apart, chipping off, and popping up.  In a way, there is some blessing in this as we now have tile in our living room which better suits our taste, and our kitchen has been customized to meet our personal styles and needs.  

The best thing about this weekend was the sense of peace that pervaded everything. On Friday night I attended a wonderful full moon gathering with Sisters. This filled me with a sense of peace and joy and I made a mental note that this is a group I must be more involved with. The rest of the weekend was equally as nice; I was grateful to have serenity this weekend, after the tumult of the previous one. I do believe that peace is often born of chaos, however. I rarely make positive and necessary changes unless some event or other crops up to urge me forward.  The explosions that rock our lives also give birth to new creation.  

Today, we have homeschool activities that should be fun and educational. It's nice to begin the day late starting "regular" week with an activity rather than just hitting the books. Our year is wrapping up, and summer is threatening a little more each day to arrive, although today the sky is grey and brief showers keep swishing through our area. 

Good Tuesday to all! 

Progress Through Acceptance

It's been a rough week. Emotionally, I have been all over the place, some moments wrapped in the sheer bliss of motherhood, other moments lost in longing for home and sadness for what seems too far out of reach.  Swirled into the soup of my own life happenings have been feelings of deep sorrow over the tornado in Moore, Oklahoma. Today I found myself sobbing during the CNN newscast, overflowing with grief for the children lost and the lives shattered. 

In the midst of my uncertainty and chaos, I've also found a sense of resignation and willingness to stay in the moment and see where life takes me, and us, when I do the right things and cherish the hell out of all the blessings that stretch before me each day.  

It seems that this small step in the direction of living in a more open way has sparked the artist in me again.  I've been working on various pieces of artwork, feeling a gusto for spending fun time with my daughter, energized toward life in general, and realizing that I need to step outside my comfort zone in a few areas of my life.  The work/homeschool/play/spiritual/family balance is still a tricky one to strike, but I've been making lists, prioritizing, and refusing to allow everyday life to squeeze the joy out of parenting. I've been walking around in an anxiety ridden daze over the past few months and it's been getting me nowhere except more deeply into a mire of perceived failure. I can't sit in that briar anymore. Time is too swiftly moving, my daughter is growing too quickly, and my creative urges are screaming for attention. An artist who isn't creating tends to dance on the edge of crazy. I'm not talking about an eccentric, kooky sort of crazy, either. I'm referring to depression and an inability to eek the wonder and magic out of life that is always inherent but not always noticed. 

So, I think I'm traveling through a highly transformative period in life. My intuition has been turned up; my sensitivity is either getting stronger or I'm better learning how to be open to the images and ideas that reveal themselves and to figure out what they mean.  My connection to nature and to the whole web of life has also been powerful as of late.  In most respects this feels wonderful, though it also occasionally leads to sobbing episodes over the sink after the nightly news has told the day's tales and dinner is being readied.  I have known I was an empath for many years; I'm still learning how to deal with it.  

And so, I bid hello to a new awakening. I'm hopeful, but I understand that there is much work to be done, and I don't expect that it will all be neat and easy.

Oh Well

I'm here, posting, but I'm not really sure why. Maybe posting in a blog is just a cathartic thing for me. I do find that writing helps me to sort out my thoughts. It's always been something I've done that's felt natural. Perhaps I should pursue it a bit harder. 

I realized last night that I'm not sure about much of anything anymore. I don't know what's real in my life. I don't know who I could truly count on if I needed support, aside from maybe one or two people, and they aren't anywhere in close proximity.  I feel profoundly sad and defeated today. I've been called selfish for voicing my opinions and desires for the future.  Maybe I am; I'm not sure.  I just felt like honesty was the best policy, that nobody gets where they truly want to be unless they voice their thoughts.  

Maybe I should temper my thoughts a little, though. Maybe I should hold them tightly within like a secret best kept hidden in a brightly jeweled treasure chest.  Maybe more will be revealed as the hours pass today and things are said, and love threads through the minutes.  For now, silence seems the best option for me. And contemplation. And maybe a hot shower. 

After a Long Week....

It's Friday. Blissful, busy Friday. Most Fridays are, for me, a day when I run the errands I've been unable to do during the week:  the banking, payroll, and shopping for odds and ends.  This week, after the saga of jury duty (which thankfully ended with the parties in the case in question settling and thus not needing our services), we discovered that some (insert expletive) pilfered a large sum of money from our bank account. The account we run our business from. Somehow, said scumbag acquired the number to my debit card and made a few purchases which, being completely out of step with those usually made by us, caused the bank to alert us. Thankfully, the alert arrived via email the same day the thief decided to make the fraudulent purchases and we called the bank to report the crime. While the bank was less than impressive with their initial handling of the situation, after a lengthy conversation with the Hubman they decided to open an investigation. In the meantime, I will keep checking our account via the Internet like a kid checking the mailbox for college acceptance letters.  

On a brighter note, we found someone of good qualifications to fix our slowly deteriorating roof. Hopefully, this will insure a dry season inside our home while the rainy season rages outside. At the moment, it sounds like Zeus is playing hopscotch on our roof and the Hub mentioned something about rubber roofing, a blowtorch, and the possible need of a fire extinguisher. I'm trying to have faith in a man who I'm sure is proficient in his trade, but I'm glad I have errands to run. 

Jury Duty

After a few months of trying to plead my case (no pun intended--okay, yes it was) against having to serve jury duty in light of the fact that I'm a homeschooling mom with no childcare available, today I finally bit the bullet and went to the courthouse to do my service as an American citizen.  I actually have  nothing really against jury duty; I wouldn't want to get stuck on a months long case, but a short trial might provide an interesting break from every day life.  My main issue is the childcare thing, and the fact that the Hubman is self employed and extremely busy, and not at a job that he can bring our young child to with him.  This leaves us with few options; today he stayed home with her and missed a day of work, trying to make up for that by doing paperwork and whatever he could accomplish with the girl in tow.  I was excited to finally be getting this whole thing over with, hopeful that, as usually happens, I wouldn't get picked and I'd be off the hook for awhile.  Yeah. Fat chance of that.

The day began bright and early, with instructions regarding how to be a good juror, etc. This was followed by a fifteen minute break which I used to get lost in the parking garage while trying to find my car.  Who knew that level three was so vast???  I finally located said vehicle, obtained the parking ticket I needed for validation (I was glad I did that when later I discovered that the parking garage is not a place for the thrifty patron-no deal going on there), and rushed back to the Jury Room, squeaking in just inside the fifteen minute time limit.  After still more waiting, the woman up front began assigning us our Judges. This proved to be a long, drawn out task during which my back, which has been giving me some trouble lately, began to ache horribly, adding to my frustration at being stuck immobile in a room for an extended period of time.  Finally, my number was called and I learned who my Judge would be.  After still more waiting and yet another trip to the bathroom (damned coffee) I joined a rather large group in the hallway for the trek to the courtroom. Crammed into the elevator like a cow being lead to the slaughterhouse, I was at least somewhat relieved to be moving on with the process.  My relief was short-lived. 

When the impossibly sunshiny woman leading our group emerged from the other elevator with the remaining possible jurors (it took two elevators to get us all up to the appropriate floor) she sprung the unfortunate news on us.  Apparently, for reasons not revealed to us, the Judge wanted us back tomorrow afternoon to continue the process.  There would be no selection for us today; we would have to go back again to fulfill the terms of our temporary servitude.  I am ashamed to say that I lost any sense of composure at this point.  Tired after getting up ridiculously early, frustrated and sore from sitting in that little chair for about three hours, I suppose the inconsideration of the Court just pissed me off.  Of course, Ms. Sunshine could do nothing for those of us who had no provisions for coming back to the Court House for another go 'round.  She advised that we speak with the jury people downstairs, as the Judge was not available to us at that time.  Typically, when I attempted to do this (along with another woman who had the same issue I have but was considerably more reasonable), the women in the jury room informed us that only the Judge can excuse us. They could do nothing and one of them tried to bully us, which only made me more upset. Of course, me being upset didn't help me or anyone else.  I was given a hastily scrawled phone number for the Judge's secretary who I declined to call because my rational mind told me it would do absolutely no good.  Having worked as a legal secretary, I am well aware of what it's like to deal with the secretaries of Judges.  The term "pit of vipers" comes to mind.  Not that all secretaries for Judges are nasty; my experience has simply been that many of them aren't in the business of helping you with your piddley problems.  Given that the top of my head felt like it was about to blow off by the time I was done with the oh so helpful ladies in the jury room, I thought it best to go outside, get some fresh air, and avoid any further unproductive confrontations. 

Understandably, the Hubman is not happy about my predicament.  He stated flatly that this was "really going to present a problem" for him tomorrow, and I agree that it does stink to vile proportions.  I'm disappointed that, instead of being through with jury duty as I thought I would be this morning when I left for the Courthouse, I have yet another day to worry over it and spend in what I find to be an uncomfortable and awkward situation.  I don't even want to consider how uncomfortable this whole deal will become should I actually get picked for a trial that lasts for an extended period of time (which could happen as this is a criminal cases Judge).   

 

For now, my hope is that tomorrow will see the end of this ordeal.  A girl can hope, right?