Sing It With Me

Over this past weekend, during a grocery run, I tossed a magazine into my shopping cart. The main story was about Grace Kelly and the cover photo was intriguing enough that it made me wanna read the article (which, let's be honest, is the job of the cover photo).

Today, while passing time in an auto shop repair lobby, I found myself thumbing through the other pages. I stopped on a well-written piece about the two individuals who created "Time" magazine and, before I knew it, I was sucked in. (And I identify the piece as "well-written" because I don't read the magazine they created and wasn't all that curious about the process they took to get it started before I started reading.)

I passed the waiting time (all three hours of it) reading and pondering. Afterwards, I went to get my morning coffee (*sigh* at 1:30pm) and returned home. I was still chewing on all I'd taken in when I opening up my laptop. From my homepage, there was a link ... from Time Magazine ... on the "100 most influential people in the world" and, for whatever reason, I once again found myself reading about something I'd ordinarily pass by.

Not surprisingly, there were a number of names on this list that the general public doesn't yet know (but likely will). I clicked on a few that looked interesting and then found myself drawn to a videolink about actor/director Ben Stiller and the charity work he's been funding that's going on in Haiti.

It seems he created his own non-profit ("StillerStrong") and was doing work in Haiti before the huge earthquake they recently experienced. The workers that were based on-site managed to reopen their school sooner that expected, if for no other reason than to provide a gathering place, a day care, and a safe place for children to be - as an alternative to spending their days on the streets.

The team that StillerStrong partnered with? Architecture for Humanity Haiti.

And then - just now, in fact - an ex-coworker of mine sent me an email asking if I knew that I was in AFH's book about the Biloxi rebuilding project. (I did not know I was in it - I knew that said book existed, 'tho.)

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It's a world of laughter, a world of fears.
It's a world of joy, and a world of fears.
There's so much that we share that it's time we're aware
It's a small world after all.

Bwoof? Broowf? Brollwof??

I can't seem to be able to just narrow down the clip below to the relevant area, so instead I'll have to leave it as is and say that the action that occurs between 2:11 and 2:23 illustrates pretty accurately how I feel currently.

(I'll also share that if you aren't familiar with this clip, it comes from a show from the late 1980s. This short story was so popular that they spun an entire series with it which ... well, it was a poor substitute from the original. I highly recommend watching parts 1 and 3, so you get the full effect - but yeah, sitting in one position from feeling soooo full ..... I can relate to that.)

Fuzzy Logic

I thought I was the only one.

I thought that no one else ever took the time to ponder what their pet was thinking when they entered a room ... or suddenly left a comfy seat ... or was looking out a window. Seriously, I really thought that no one else ever thought about these things. Or, at the very least, that no one else ever fairly regularly thought about this kinda stuff. I now realize that I'm incorrect.

The Awesome Boyfriend recently expressed the question out loud ... "What do you think she's thinking when she's doing that?" (whatever "that" may be and the "she", in question, being our cat).

The world may never know. I may never know what possesses her to suddenly glance upwards into the corner just above my head. We'll probably never understand why she gets "kitty rips" and dashes in to/out from a room. We'll likely never figure out why she seems to get such pleasure out of watching the water go down the drain in the bathtub. Perhaps we'll never comprehend what goes through her fuzzy little brain when we're patiently explaining to her that eating plants is wrong. (Yes, yes I realize that there's a translation issue, but beyond that - when we're talking to her, does she hear voices like Charlie Brown's teachers?) Does she roll onto her back because it feels good or because it seems to please us?

Ours is just to wonder why.

... and I think it's gonna rain today.

An ex-coworker/manager - and completely decent individual with a young family and loving wife - diagnosed with a "somewhat aggressive colon cancer" ... before the age of 50.

A cousin who continues to fight for her recovery from numerous health-related issues, only to be now diagnosed with shingles.

A mother who only today admitted that she's been fighting eye infections for "several weeks" and, upon getting a check-up, was given stronger medicine to fight her high blood pressure, told to lose weight, and that she was a prime candidate for a significant stroke.

A sister in the process of changing her life yet again, hoping that she's making smart decisions for the sake of her own well being AND that of her two daughters.

A dear friend whose father was just told he has early-stage prostate cancer.
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It's just as alright for me to think on these things as it is to notice how bright the sky is this time of the evening, how happy and content the cat looks in her bed, how good I really am right now. I think it's important that I notice and acknowledge both sides of that coin ...

... and I'll remember this post for when I feel any sort of a pity party coming on.

WITUM

Today while watching, of all things, the Masters, I found myself thinking about what is important to me ... and what I'd tell someone who wanted to get to know what I hold near and dear. I've done a self-inspection of "titles" before, but this reflection was different. This was more of a "what's important to understand me" (or "WITUM") list.

The WITUM list, which would consist of things I am, have been, strive to be, need to have in a partner, would not include quite a bit about me that other folks might think to be more ... interesting? The thing of it is - those items don't feel relevant to the "me" of today.

Anyway, all this was going through my head while I watched the Masters. There are many "bowls", "championships" and/or "finals" in the world of sports. There is always the opportunity for an after-win "Kodak moment" after these events. And, 'tho I do not include anything medical-related in my WITUM list, I will admit that my reaction to watching Phil Mickelson embracing his wife in his arms, holding her tightly while tears streamed down both of their faces (and mine as well), had everything to do with knowing what having the support of a loved one during a scary, frustrating, nail-biting time can mean to BOTH the people involved.

So, if you wanna know anything about WITUM, you should probably know that "being there" is listed as #1 ... and it's why Brandon will always be "The Awesome Boyfriend". Period. End of story.

Creature Comforts

I write this while sitting directly opposite a snoozing cat. She is tucked in around herself, curled like a crescent moon with ends made of tail and ears and feet. She is just now lightly snoring, and did not move a muscle when the mail was dropped in through the door slot about 20 feet (and one closed door) away from her.

Being comfortable is a matter of priorities, I think. Are you more cold than hot? Are you more concerned about the noise of a room or the light? What is the most amount of "annoyance" that you're willing to tolerate?

I've lived here for close to seven months now, and I am comfortable. I've moved beyond noticing the things that perhaps others would find annoying (not gonna put any "for instances" here because they're not MY annoyances) and am quite cozy with the way things are. It's wonderful, to accept and fully appreciate ones surroundings.

When I first moved, I made a concerted effort to not refer to my previous residence as "home" because, after all, I'd moved from there TO "home" ... which is "here". Now, after more than half a year has passed, I no longer need to make the effort. This *is* home. Sure, it's true that I'll still refer to where I'd been as "home" but anyone I'd be saying that to would know that's just a reference to living in a place for 4 decades. That doesn't go away overnight, and it doesn't disrespect where I am now. To this home. To our home.

The cat has now tucked her head underneath her arm and I see her whiskers twitching. She has also changed homes in the past six months. If she were able to talk, I wouldn't doubt that she'd refer to her past residence as "home". She was there for quite a bit of her life, but now she seems quite settled in here. She has achieved a comfort level that she's at ease with. She has companionship, toys, basic necessities, and a choice of laps to curl up on at night, if she's so inclined. She is, once again, comfortable and at home.

Bloom Where You Are Planted

I come from a family of gardeners. My father grows grapes. Quite a few of them, in fact. My sister has had her fair share of crops, legal and other, and has a fondness for flowers these days. My mother is a master gardener and has "grafted trees" (whatever THAT means) and was happy to inherit the family orchids from my father's parents after they passed. (They're over 100 years old now and have been split into hundreds of individual plants.) My mom has the ability to look at a plant and know if it needs water, better soil, is a weed, will flower soon, has too much light, was planted in the right area ... all the things that a gardener should know. A relaxing evening to my folks is to take an hour or so after dinner and water a portion of their property - the old fashioned way, with a hose and all. (They have a drip system for most everything and an irrigation plan for the grapes, but still.) Yep - I come from a family of gardeners.

And, while I've commented here before that I'm for sure not adopted, I am the black sheep of the family. Or, more appropriately, the black thumb. I can't tell flower from herb from tree from weed, unless it is flowering, has a trunk, or I'm already cooking it. As I recently confessed elsewhere, I've killed ivy, for cryin' out loud.

So it was a surprise to me how happy I felt when The Awesome Boyfriend told me he was going to get his garden in shape for this approaching season. I know that the rest of the family has been wondering about it (because they've asked "so you kids gonna garden this year?") and I figured we would, but with the amount of snow we had this past Winter, I was curious as to how the soil would look after we ... uh ... "fluffed it up?" (Again, not a gardener so I'm sure there's a more technical term ... perhaps "turned it over" would be better.)

Last night, "Mike, the rototiller guy" showed up as promised and, in less than an hour, he ... errrr ... "tilled?" the plot of land that will be the garden. This morning, I visited the area with a rake and did my best to remove any larger clumps and to level things off. In an hour or so, we're gonna head to the gardening supply store to get ... mmmmm ... whatever it is that we need from the gardening supply store. (Seriously - I have no idea. The Awesome Boyfriend mentioned something about netting and I figured it was to keep the birds out - but apparently it's to keep the weeds out. Or was that "webbing"? Wow yeah, no idea at all.)

So in a few months, perhaps we'll be enjoying the fruits (and veggies and herbs) of our labor. I'll update with "garden news" throughout the season.

This is me, blooming where I've been planted.

Be Our Guest

I can't recall my parents ever cleaning the house from top to bottom prior to hosting friends overnight at their home. For whatever reason, everyone always would leave at some point, even if in the wee hours. Driving tipsy back then was ... well, I won't say it was "common" but it wasn't as discussed publically as it is now and I know for a fact that after a few "Fun Club" parties, some of those folks should NOT have been behind the wheel (my father included) but ... well ... yeah, it happened.

While I have no growing-up experiences with my parents having guests stay with us, I do have growing-up experiences with major house-cleaning efforts prior to hosting a gathering (family or friends). My mother is very good at organizing and filing and making sure things find their place in their home, but she's not the best house-keeper (and she's alright with that). The battle of dust was always being faught (and mostly lost) and it probably didn't help that there was a constant remodel project going on, or the dog being in a state of "shed".

I always found it curious the amount of time we spent cleaning the house prior to a party. I couldn't imagine who we'd be cleaning the top of the medicine cabinent for. Did we honestly worry that someone would slip on a white glove and run their hand along the top, just to check for possible dirt? Was someone REALLY gonna move the blanket from the bed to make sure the corners were tucked in properly? I mean - why would we WANT anyone like that in our home? Who needs a friend like that?

I was thinking of this during the week - when I was vacuuming the window sills and we spent the evening hanging pictures on Monday, as I was washing off the light dust on the plants and recalking the bathtub on Tuesday, when I was vacuuming the downstairs and getting the truck washed in the evening on Wednesday, and today, when I was figuring out which daffodils should be in the front of the vase and then tucked in the corners of the sheets ... properly.

We are hosting our first overnight guest for the next few days and I understand the whole cleaning thing now. We do it not to get approval from who is visiting, but to be proud that we have a warm, clean, well-decorated nest that folks WANT to visit. It's more than just getting a new "welcome" mat to put outside the door ... it's extending that welcome throughout your home.

Hello there, friend. Welcome to our home.