A Moment of Reflection

Life has been busy lately.

I have been asked at work if I want to increase my hours from 19 to 30 per week.

A choice between receiving more money (which we need), or spending my normal two days with Olivia a week when she is not in daycare.

It is a dilemma many women face and my enthusiasm that somehow we are going to win the lottery or that my book will sell a million copies when I am finished has come to a bitter halt.

Reality has set in, life isn't so easy.

So I was going through my computer files one day and came across this little diary entry. I was going to start The Journal of My Life and as you can see, I started and finished at one entry. And after you read it, the answer is no, I was not on any drugs.

I guess we all have moments of contemplative reflection. When life doesn't go exactly the way we want it to and suddenly, we question if we made the right choices and what is life to mean, anyway?

So excuse the brief intermission from the humor, but life can't always be the fun ride that we want it to be.

Meanwhile, the temperature is a nice 73 degrees. So, I think I'll publish my post and go enjoy the day.

JOURNAL OF MY LIFE

May 18, 2005

I am 33. What is that supposed to entail, I do not know. It is an age of uncertainty surely, or at least for me. It is an age where you analyze: Do I make enough money, do I have the job I’ve always wanted and am I good enough?

As I organize my office, a task that I am still working on four years after we have bought the house, I see letters and photographs of times which seem so long ago: high school yearbooks, love letters to college boyfriends—words which were so innocent and unassuming. I long to go back sometimes, a world full of tomorrows and a life with less responsibilities.

But as I remember quite well, they were times that were filled with heartaches as well, from the dissolving of relationships with boys—which at that period in life meant everything—to nights filled with homework and social systems which made you ask also, am I good enough?

Time now passes by so quickly and I still don’t understand quite why I am here in this world. Many people had their identity set during childhood from being raised with strong independent parents; others, still wonder aimlessly trying to find what it is that makes their life original. I am part of the latter, existing in life always wondering when my tomorrows for getting it right, run out.

I recognize my blessings as so many others do, but still, life is filled with chaotic moments and a never ending feeling of uncertain anxiety. Anxiety for how we are living our lives, diets which are an ever present concern for the majority of women, the house and yard work that never seems finished and people, pets and children who always have a need to fill. If in the old days, just the basic necessities of living were a concern and now, we are challenged to examine every aspect about our lives, what mind blowing hang-ups will future generations have to worry about? Too much, I would guess.

We as a society wait for the next big thrill: the closing of a deal, a bonus on our paycheck, a new guest arriving, shopping on Saturdays, the yearly vacation, the finale of a reality television show. We wait, our moments strung together by surges of excitement hoping for the next big event to come soon or else, what would the alternative be but to sit and contemplate whether we are doing justice to our life. We are bored with reality and easily discontent with normal happenings. Our ancestor’s anticipation came by just surviving another winter without disease or lack of food; our anticipation comes from a Christmas sale at Marshall Fields and if we will be able to lose the five lbs we gained at an overly abundant Thanksgiving.

So I end up taking out yet another blank piece of paper, a blank slate, which to me represents one more chance to plan and get it right. Lists abound, days with tasks and things to remember, times to do duties, ways to get things done, all indicating an unsettlement of the spirit and a need to be productive in a world where the end result is always measured by what you do in life, rather than what type of person you are.

Does anyone else fill this way, I wonder? So many people dawn the look of glamour, cell phones in various shades of color, clothes which show they are important and stylish, nails perfectly manicured assuring to everyone they know their worth. People buy monolithic houses they can't afford. Everything to allude to perfection on the outside, but what do these people do when they are alone, in the silence of these homes or cars, do they understand life? Do they wonder who it is they are trying to impress? Probably others, but more like themselves. Because if we have everything we dreamed of what is there left to still inspire our dreams.

If only we could understand what life is supposed to be, if we could be told what it is we search for as human beings, what we should be in life to bring about understanding within ourselves? Years go by and age sets in, I am 33, still trying to figure out if I am good enough and for whom am I trying to be good enough for?

Signs of Spring

Slowly spring is coming. And it's about time.

It has been a back and forth winter in the Midwest. One day we will have warm weather-making us believe spring has finally arrived-the next day we will have a full fledged snowstorm. Our morale here is all but failing.

This past weekend, with a brief warm temperature, we were finally able to open a window for the first time.

As you can see by the picture, humans are not the only ones waiting for spring to arrive. Moe, Larry, and Curly (actually known as Ghost, Chewie, and Tigger) made a decisive move to crowd into the one window that I had opened, forgoing their usual discomfort and general dislike of being this close together. To further add to my point, even Tigger, the cat to the far right, was willing to have a wooden spoon crammed against his back (there to keep the window up) in order to take full advantage of his allotted space.

But fear not, if you don't have cats to crowd into your windows to show you spring is coming, there is another simple method which doesn't include waiting for a groundhog to forgo seeing his shadow. (Which is overrated if you ask me.)

Just simply wait for the expensive convertibles with their tops off, to take their rightful place on the road. If you see an older man (similar to a Donald Trump look-a-like) with sparse hair flapping in the wind, it is then you know without a doubt that it is truly, spring.

It's a . . .It's a . . .What Did You Say It Is?

This is what I told my daughter and then to the man who was making balloon representations at the Easter Egg Hunt.

I asked him for Elmo, her favorite scruffy Sesame Street character, and this is what the man gave me.

I guess abstract art not only applies to paintings, but balloon renditions of Elmo as well.

My daughter looking at her balloon trying to conceptualize Elmo. As we walked back past the long line that had gathered for the balloon man, I overheard a woman tell her husband, "Oh isn't that cute. The little girl got a lobster balloon."

The Beverly Hillbillies of Scrap Iron Part Two

From a previous article: http://soyouwouldthink.blogspot.com/2007/03/beverly-hillbillies-of-scrap-iron.html

Yesterday, we arrived home to find the yearly garbage festival in full swing. I don't know who planned it on Easter, but it sure seemed like a dumb idea. Who wants to go through their house and haul out garbage, old appliances, furniture and the like on Easter Sunday?

Anyway, we arrived back in town in the late afternoon to find that either the garbage ghouls had already gone through the trash that day or people were not putting much out. Now here's the funny part.

My husband started to gather our wares to throw away: a mattress set, yard equipment, an old T.V. As my husband carried the first item out to the curb one of those monolithic garbage trucks appeared like a bat out of hell. Do these trucks have honing devices or what? The man parked the truck right at our curb so they could go through the junk exactly as my husband brought it out. I thought, surely this can't be happening.

Then, slowly trudging up the street, another one of these trucks came and parked on the other side of the street across from our house. The men from the two trucks got out and a huge shouting match in Spanish took place between them. And it was evident, it was all over who could go through our junk!

After some time went by the man from the first truck, obviously upset that my husband wasn't bringing out any prime garbage or appliances, picked up the van mat that my husband placed on the curb and then abruptly left.

I thought I had seen everything at last years spring cleaning garbage day but this takes the cake. And I even arrived late in town to bypass the event because I figured I pretty much covered everything I could in last years article. It just goes to show you: stories and situations will happen regardless if you are looking for them or not.

Finding Hope

Today was not such a good day. As most of you know, I am writing a novel. And for everyone else, I'm sure you've already guessed as much by the link that is so strategically placed to the right of my website which says Book in Progress/Finding Hope.

I have been working on this book for three years alongside a job and a baby.


The website, dedicated to the book, will be finished in a few months thanks to the help given by my computer savvy husband. And yes, normally book websites are made after the book is published, let alone written. But I have always been one to go full force.

When I started writing the story back in March 2005, I did a search on the internet for the title Finding Hope. I wanted to make sure there was not a novel by the same name.
There were a few self-help books but no fiction. I told myself, “I’m good to go!”

Now I admit, the title Finding Hope could be considered a tad overly dramatic and one can easily assume it to be the title of a Sunday night movie on Lifetime Television. However, my story is far from it. True, it is an inspirational story but the characters would be more in line with a Saturday Night Live episode rather than a Lifetime movie.

Today for some reason, I did a search for the title again. I not only found out that a romance book had been published by the same title but another book called Finding Hope is due out in December. There went my "good to go" feeling.

Another bit of information which I read is that titles of books can’t be copyrighted unless you make it a trademark or part of a business which can be quite expensive. Therefore, I will continue with the title of Finding Hope. And it’s not for a lack of creativity on my part. I can think of titles and story lines in my sleep.

So we’ll see. I’m not averse to changing it if it will increase the possibility of the book being published. As I’m sure someone somewhere would say, “Just get the book written. Everything else comes after that.”

Since the title is more popular than I thought, one day you may very well see me at a book signing telling a reader, “No not that one, no not that one either. It’s the last Finding Hope on the shelf: the one with the bridge on it. "Yeah,” I would say as I pointed to my name on the book, “this one’s mine.”

Happy Valentine's Day!

Since January 1, we have been on a steady initiative to eat better, healthier food. Today we decided to go to The Cheesecake Factory for lunch to celebrate St. Valentine's Day. For dessert, we reluctantly ordered a piece of Godiva chocolate cheesecake.

If you have ever been to The Cheesecake Factory, you know what I'm talking about when I say "cheesecake". It's not your run-of-the-mill homemade graham cracker crust in a tin pan with a Jell-O brand whipped cream type cheesecake. It's the grand daddy of the good cheesecakes.

Now this was all to celebrate Valentine's Day of course. Chocolate and Valentine's Day go hand in hand together, right? To have one without the other would be criminal, just plain criminal.

(I know, being overly dramatic is my second nature.)

And yes, we could have easily skipped that beautiful piece of Godiva chocolate cheesecake (if a cheesecake can be called beautiful) to go home and eat an individualized cup of sugar-free Jell-O chocolate pudding but somehow, they just aren't the same.

Here is our conversation:

"Boy, I bet there's a ton of calories in this bite," Stephane said holding up a piece on his fork.

"But it's dark chocolate. Dark chocolate has lots of antioxidants."

"This really blows are diet," he said.

"But," I reminded him, "we are sharing one piece. That's good."

"I guess," he said.

"You’ll go back to work and feel euphoric all day. And isn't that what Valentine's Day is for?"

"This is really good," he said taking another bite.

"Mmm, this is really good," I said.

So in honor of St. Valentine's Day, shun the guilt, go for the gusto and enjoy something rich and chocolaty because we all deserve one day to feel warm, cozy, and euphoric.