Last friday night...

Last Friday night was not as epic as Katie Perry would have one believe. 

Well, it was pretty epic, but certainly not in a good way. Several of you eagerly awaited details of Genny's seventh grade romance and their adventure at the Halloween dance, and I appreciate it. The notes I received, over the weekend, following up on her excitement should have made me smile. Conversing with a friend (and my husband) on Friday, I pointed out how strangely similar Genny's life was panning out to that in the plot of a John Hughes film. The nontraditional girl is pursued by the popular boy and suddenly all of her dreams come true. As of late, Gen's stories depicted her with characteristics of boldness and confidence that aren't usually synonymous with her behavior, or the Genny we know for that matter. While it seems like instances of mean girls and dreamy boys would do the opposite of making someone react more strongly- I had no choice to believe her tales... 

The truth is though, none of what she has said is true. 

School has been one giant illusion and though that is only the tip of the iceberg, in regards to our situation, that is as far as I'll delve on this blog. There is no boy friend. There was no romance. 

Pretty much, it's complicated... And let me clarify, by it, i do NOT mean their relationship. There is, nor was there ever, any relationship. This boy was not even in attendance- though she truly believes he was. She can tell you what he said to her, what his hand felt like in hers and what he wore- in GREAT detail. 

*sigh*

Last Friday night was not a great night, but it was a good one. Not great in that it was hard, and sad and composed of the stuff real life is. But good in the way in which real life is- raw and relevant and earthy. We love Genny and even the ugly, scary stuff is the stuff we need to know. We need it know it all so that we can love her through it... She certainly won't blossom into a whole and healthy person if we bail on her too and God knows this RAD-venture has taught us a lot about people who bail. 

So, here's to next Friday night- and the one after that... Epic fun... Laughter. And even when there isn't, even when life gets in the way- may there ALWAYS be love... 

This friday night...

Happy Friday! 

Boy, it has been a BIG week around our neck of the subdivision... 

The boy whom Gen has been head over heals for, since the beginning of school, has asked her to be his girlfriend. Let me back up and explain. 

We'll call him P. 

He's that boy... the boy the girls like. Mr. Personality, yet sensitive. Mr. Stop you in the hall because he genuinely wants to know how your weekend went. 

Yes, in 7th grade. 

It has been a daily journey, with P. We hear details of every interaction they have- EVERY DAY... 

Genny saw P WAYYYY Up there, while she was WAYYYYYY below. Sad really. 

To say she was shocked that he asked her "out" is an understatement... 

We gave her permission to attend the Halloween dance because we know several of the chaperones, and because it is in the afternoon. She is going with P. 

She is BESIDE herself with giddiness... 

She also got a drastic pixie cut, and she pulls it off amazingly. 

In another news, my naturopath is a miracle worker... I am beyond grateful.(And WELL, after 10 weeks!) Feeling about as giddy as Gen. 

And lastly, the Shutterfly give away has come to a close. CONGRATULATIONS to our winners Ange, Angel and Kel!!! I have a few other great giveaways coming up just around the corner so be sure to stay tuned... 

Zombie Princess...

I've blogged before about the special characteristics of my youngest. As much as we can't ever understand her RAD condition- we do understand her RAD. We get that- as complicated as it is- it influences her in caged-animal ways. 

These days are tough. 

I am trying to so hard to examine her with grace. I really am trying hard. 

But things are getting ugly. 

For Halloween she wants to be a Zombie bride. 

These days she is resembling more of Zombie princess... 

that which shapes us...

She has been in school for months now. I say months because it has definitely been more than one. Truthfully, it feels as though she has been in school forever. Mostly though, this has nothing to with her and everything to do with me as I came down with this hellish illness shortly after the school term started... 

Anyhow... 

What I'm here to talk about is love. Young love. 

About two weeks after Gen started this new school, a wickedly cruel fellow seventh grad boy decided to target her in his acts of meanness. It started by calling her a fly and shooing at her. After some time things evolved and he began gagging himself whenever she was near. He'd look at her (in their many classes together) and simulate vomiting saying it's her ugliness that makes him sick. His tormenting became more persistent. He discussed her hair legs and how they were like that of an ape. Ape legs, ape legs... He remarked on the space between her teeth. 50 foot gap, he said. 50 foot Genny... 

And on and on it went. 

Daily she met me at the car in sobbing tears... Stupid, cruel boy. 

Conferences occurred. I was frustrated. At one point he was continuing his abuses in her last period of the day. She was crying, asking him to stop. The teacher did not intervene, but rather ignore. Finally Genny turned around to this S.C. boy and "SHUT UP!" 

The teacher did NOT ignore this. He gave her detention. When she tearfully tried to explain about S.C. boy, giving the teacher complete benefit of the doubt that he hadn't heard- he yelled at her. It was at this point that a friend stepped in and intervened on her behalf- and the friend also got detention. 

It was at this point in which i was done. 

Things got better quickly. His forced apology seemed to help him be nicer. For two weeks he has been civilly nice to my daughter. The principal had told Genny that perhaps he did these things because he liked her. On Friday, these 2 weeks later, when he approached her and asked her to the Halloween dance- this was confirmed. 

Factually I should point out she is more than likely not attending said dance. Not for any reason other than the fact that she has adopted the behavior of very poor judgement. Regardless of who is present, when she feels like making a poor or unwise decision, she does. She cares nothing for the consequences. We have grown incredibly weary of such things, so she's on a bit of a restricted regimen. Of course this is actually because we are wickedly evil parents and she leads a horribly sad and oppressed life... (you know, what with her cable tv, ipod touch, cool art school upbringing and all. Poor thing. have I mentioned she eats two breakfasts on week days? Who can live under such poor conditions?) 

The point though, is that she wants to say "yes." Yes that she'd go with him, if she was going. Which she is not. Yes. 

I am still appalled. I get the whole middleschool boy- picks on girl which he's crushing- way of life. This though, this went beyond picking. He was absolutely heinously bad to her and he hurt her feelings immensely, for a long time. And the thing is, she has a boy she really likes and this boy is not him. I just feel like, looking ahead 5 years, the girl on this path is the one with the no self respect and completely crappy abusive boys. I know it's an over reaction but am I at all justified in worrying when she decides to like a boy who likes her- even if he's been what I deem incredibly abusive? 

These middle school dramas have become the soap opera in which our lives turn. The valley girl/mean girl who is out to get Gen. The friends and their romantic relationships. The girl drama, and gosh there is loads of it... 

I have got to get well and have a date with another adult SOON... 

One mighty movie...

Every situation truly does have a story to be told, it is simply a matter of how we tell it that makes it worth seeing. It is in that way that every movie we decide to watch becomes a gamble. Sure, the trailer is good and the premise sounds heartwarming but is it? 

Inspired by a true story, the film The Mighty Macs (opening today) tells the story of Cathy Rush (Carla Gugino), an inexperienced wanna-be-basketball coach hired by an all-girls private Catholic college (Immacaulata College) in the early 70's. Given a mish mash team of girls whose hearts were no where near the game, and having no where to practice (or host home games) due to a recent fire in the gymnasium, the looming season looks hopeless. Of course, from one watch of the preview we know that this is another film about another underdog team who- against all possible odds- rises up. I'll admit that, not being a big fan of sports films, when I first saw the preview I felt like I already knew the story. 

I will also be the first to admit that I was wrong. 

I was wrong because, as much as The Might Macs is as story of one such underdog team, it is honestly a story about so much more. It is a story of love and acceptance, of true friendship and what that means. It is a story of trust, unlikely alliances and believe it or not- marriage. Successfully weaving in and out of each of those themes, this film crafts a moving tribute to life and to women. To a sisterhood that struggled to find it's footing during an oppressive time when women were caught between their duties to be housewives and women's movement towards completely equality and fairness. With an amazing supporting cast such as Ellen Burstyn, David Boreanaz, Marley Shelton, Phyllis Summerville- this movie tells a complete story- and a beautiful one at that...  

This film has so much heart hidden in the subtle layers of moments that go on between Cathy and her husband, Cathy and Sister Sunday, Cathy and her team and the teammates themselves. Some of these stories are told through glimpses rather than obvious and dialogued design- but isn't that how real life plays out too? In the moments and the minutes, in our realizations of growth and others. There is a level of proof here which shows that with nurturing- anything that can bloom and do the impossible. 

I have criticized another film, somewhat harshly recently. I challenged it's rating and family appropriateness. I challenged it's strong religious dialogue. Please hear me when I say that just because it references God in the trailer- THIS IS NOT THAT TYPE OF MOVIE. On any account. This IS a family movie. Kids old enough to understand the concept of teamwork will grasp this movie. My twelve year old will LOVE this movie. Call me crazily optimistic but I believe my 12 year old's sense of self may even be better because of watching this movie. I also know she'll call it her favorite, and I love that. 

I hope that, even if you don't like sports movies (like me!) you will still give this film a chance... It is worth it. 

There is a line near the end of the film in which sister Sunday narrates, where she admits to not knowing why the Macs did as well as they did that year. Then she points out the possibility that maybe it was each teammate simply looking around her and seeing strong women who believed in themselves and their team that made the difference. 

Isn't that how it should be? 

As women, shouldn't we be better women simply by observing the beautiful, brave and strong women around us? 

I think so.

Girls, see this movie. And take your guys too because it isn't, at all, a chick flick. Take your families, because the Mighty Macs has a real-life story to tell, and it tells it well. 

too early for gifts? this could be yours...

Holy Moly, can you believe that from today it is sixty-six days until Christmas?
Yes, i thought the same thing- and I am pretty sure that it WAS just July 4th and we've entered some sort of alternate reality time warp...

As anyone who really knows me could tell you, I believe in completely OCD thorough Holiday preparedness. I begin shopping early, and planning so that everything stays as stress free as possible. I have the privilege of seeing (from a distance) my best friend practice her holidays in the exact opposite manner, every year, and it makes me less annoyed at myself. :)

I could tell you though, what day we are cutting down our tree. I could tell you exactly how it will be decorated. I could tell you who I'm making gifts for, who i am buying them for and what foods I will cook vs. buy on all three celebrated winter holidays. I am typically so on top of it that every year I offer to help the a fore mentioned best friend. She never lets me. I think I scare her. Whatever. :)

This year I have partnered with Shutterfly to help three of my readers get ahead on their Holiday cards... (If you aren't familiar with Shutterfly, then I recommend you acquaint yourself. I did my sister's birth announcements last year and they were absolutely lovely!) They have beautiful quality and their selections are truly incomparable. {Also, on a sidenote, their new Custom Path photo books kind of rock my world and I want to make about a trillion of them...}

Anyway, back to Christmas stuff... Chw and I sat down with steaming cups of orange tea and poured over their VAST array of choices so that we could share our favorites with you.
These were our five agreed upon favorites... 

Fa La La

Very Warm Noel

Merry Filmstrips

Such Sweet Frames

Retro Stripe Frame 

Aren't they amazing? There were a lot of other really unique/cool cards but Chw apparently wasn't unique or cool enough to like them... ha...Just kidding, he's pretty freaking cool. We will definitely be choosing one of these five for this year's Christmas card, and it will be awesome... It's the having to choose just one that's a little less awesome. 

Enough about us though, what about you? Because, here is the best part- Shutterfly has generously offered to giveaway 25 personalized holiday cards each to THREE of my readers!!! 

Giveaway guidelines ... 

1} Go here. 

2} Choose your FAVORITE design. {IF you win, this DOES NOT have to be the design you go with.}

3} Link back here, in a comment. Simple right? (and fun!) {Make sure I have your email address.}

4} Giveaway will run through midnight of October 27th (one week), with the winners (THREE!!!) being announced on Friday October 28th. 

5} Twitter links count for an extra entry. {link the time stamp here}

6} Facebook links count for an extra entry. {link the time stamp here}

7} If we can get the amount of entries over 100, I'll take take the winners to Starbucks- my treat. :) 

A charmingly woeful tale...

This is the very sad story about a girl who returned home to a state, let’s say Idaho, just after one of her favorite bands performed a big show there. Hypothetically, for legitimacy sake, we’ll say this band was Death Cab for Cutie.

The girl was pretty sad. {She also missed getting to sit down and chat candidly with Matt Damon, but that’s an entirely different story…} So, sadly the SEE DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE LIVE part of her life’s goals check list remained untouched.

Le’ Sigh…

Life went on, and many other lines became scratched off. She was happy about this and uber grateful. Eventually the scars of missing Death Cab by just an inch began to heal and finally they retreated to hide in that secret place where the many missed Dave Matthews show scars had gone. {That is a truly terrible series’ of stories that she may or may not talk about one day.}

Moving on- One day Girl got really sick and all of the health experts in her village scratched their heads in confusion telling her, time and again, We just don’t know what could possibly be wrong with you, Girl! So, she was sad once again. As her strength grew weaker {er, shrank weaker???}, she missed weddings and parties, weekend trips and all sorts of fun adventures. It was in this delirious and debilitated state that Girl learned that one of her most favorite bands, of all time- {Death Cab!!!!} was once again planning a performance in her village. Hope blossomed within her, like a hydrangea bush and she optimistically looked forward to the day that she would sway with thousands of others during Soul Meets Body, and her life would be complete.

Alas, doctor’s bills from Girl’s mystery illness began to stack up. Prescriptions increased in cost and ran dry having no altering betterment on her health. Girl realized that it was a frivolous purchase to buy tickets to the glorious Death Cab event, and sadly she walked past the ticket booth and pushed them from her mind.

Messages came, via cellular technology, in a rare abundance asking Girl if she planned to go to Death Cab. It seemed everyone was going, and forgetting about the show seemed  an impossibility. Then, one day, Girl’s friend Kelly won tickets to see Death Cab. Due to life circumstances Kelly could not attend the event and offered her beloved, magical, prized tickets to Girl.

Girl cried with happiness. {HAPPINESS!!!} Girl read SEE DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE LIVE in her goal journal over and over and over again. Like a dream coming true- this reality once again dawned hope.

Her mystery illness, however, had other plans. The day before the show she fell ill with a fever and rested as much as possible. She was determined not to miss it. The night before the show left her ill and sleepless, but her strong will prevailed. She finally rose and began to busy herself in preparation on what was to be the magical event day. She felt great. As the hours passed however, and the show neared- she grew weaker and her fever raged higher. With the diagnosis (after months of no answers) of pneumonia came the crippling instructions telling her to rest and nothing else, {Cue crushing gameshow music}. No night air. No exertion. Repetitively her doctor assured her that Girl had no idea how truly sick she was.

No Death Cab. Girl was sure no one knew how truly sad she was.

Hoping to cuddle up somewhere warm and find the rest which eluded her- to balm her heartache- Girl was surprised to learn of Boy’s other plans.

No concert? No Death Cab? I have a great idea then! Why don’t I turn our entire house upside down? Move the lower floor of our humble cottage to the upper floor and switch everything around! Won’t that be adventurous? Won’t that be fun? !?!?!

Thinking Boy meant someday, she nodded to appease him. While typically adventures of the home interior type were Girl’s most adored adventures of all- these days finding the bottle of milk on a different shelf in the refrigerator seemed extreme enough.  Taken quickly by sleep, Girl woke twenty minutes later to boy disassembling nearly everything.

BIG Sigh, Cough, Cough…

As sad stories go, this is far from the saddest- but it’s still pretty sad all the same. If there were a moral it would probably be something like don’t hope, don’t dream- but that somehow makes it more horror story than sad tale so instead I’ll make it this: life is full of adventures- don’t pin your hope on just one because that isn’t fair to the fun waiting around the corner…

Oh yeah, and this: Your tv can always be moved back, if it looks awful, and he’ll have to do it since this was his idea in the first place!

The End… 

And what do you do?

I was up most of the night, due to this crazy virus that won't go away- and decided not to blog this morning. Something about you guys likely not wanting to read about the mucous laced details of my ultra romantic life and such. Instead I nestled down with my orange juice and laptop, to go through my reader, when I read one of my favorite bloggers, Ada over at Of Woods and Words who posted  about being a writer and expressing/describing that to others. 

Her post, and my own experiences in answering the dreaded questions really got me to thinking about how writers got the short end of the stick. If you work in payroll and someone asks you what you do for a living- it's pretty simple: payroll. If you are a chef, also totally simple. Even my husband's job, which is pretty complicated unless you are already familiar with his industry, is explained happily enough in a few sentences. 

I think that is why, back in '08, it was so appealing to throw caution to the wind and start my own photography business. I loved it. i was doing it regularly for others anyway so why not do it professionally? But it did matter. It mattered because when the question came, Do you work? And I would answer that I did, I could say I own a photography business, and everyone was happy. 

Well, they were happy anyway. I wasn't happy, so much, because first and foremost I AM a writer and due to booking photo fun, I wasn't writing... I've already said all of that though. 

Instead once again the question comes, And Misty, What do you do? And I get to respond with, I'm a writer. And they force a smile, often wiry and self righteous, and say Oh? What do you write? 

And the spiraling and tumbling of Alice down the rabbit hole becomes my very existence...

Somehow a suitable answer never comes. 

Not one. 

I blog. Definitely not the answer they'd be happy with OR the truth really. 

Books. Oh? Can I see them at Barnes & Noble?

And on and on it could go. Worst case scenario nearly every time. 

It occurred to me that I answer the questions based on society rather than soul. Our American society places at the forefront of everything MONEY. Anyone who is a writer knows that writing and money aren't really synonymous. For a true writer, it has never been about money, though the little bit of money we sometimes get is nice. I know this, and am one hundred percent ok with this until the dreaded questions come. Suddenly I clam up. I wrack my brain trying to sort it all and figure out what writing had paychecks attached, most recently. Well, i recently wrote an article for a publishing house. Before that I did a handful of press reviews. Freelance mostly. Whatever comes along. I'd love to finish my novel and have it published someday but you've got to pay the bills. 

Cue {weak, unsure} smile. 

And, end scene. 

CRAP. 

I may as well be a temp worker, unable to commit to an actual job. I instead fly by the seat of my pants and takes whatever comes along on days when I'm willing to get off my butt and work. Oh yeah, and there's the idea of a ludicrous pipe dream too, hiding back there. For years I've thought that was way the world saw us writers but now, today, I am wondering if that's not because it's the way I've painted it? 

I mean, isn't that how the majority of us learn to see the world? Through the words woven and splayed out for us, by writers? 

It's kind of enough to make your head hurt, isn't it? 

I've decided that I'm done playing that game. I am done answering, (or not answering, but verbally spiraling head first down a volcano)

Misty, do you work? 

I do, head held high, I am a writer. 

Oh. Well, what do you write? 

Right now I'm focusing on my novel. I have been doing freelance for years, but the novel is my top priority.

It's true, and it sounds good to me. Then again, I am a writer so it would. The point is- I don't care. I don't care anymore what people think. If the day that magical book deal shows up, ever comes, all of the naysayers and condescenders will change their tune anyway so who cares what they think now? And like Ada, I write on what inspires me. That's why I blog. It may change, with the wind, but I don't have to explain that to anyone. 

distract me...

Being the big Glee fan that I am, I have been waiting months to catch a peek at Ryan Murphy's new show American Horror Story. I have read critic pieces on it, touting it as the anti-Glee and terrifying. Whatever. Though he may not always be the nicest guy, i think he is uber talented and I was excited to see what his new adventure was all about. 

Problem was, i decided to do that at 11:30 at night... 

It was pretty freaking scary and while I was feeling tired before, now i'm feeling a little like I could stay awake forever. I needed a distraction, of happy sorts. What better distraction than to blog? 

Exactly! 

Genny didn't have school yesterday or today, due to parent teacher conferences. We had our conference last night and it went really well. Yesterday morning however, hours and hours before said conference was schedule, Gen and I sat down to make our school holiday bucket lists. With the luxury of a four day weekend blankly beautiful and glistening ahead of us- I knew that it was going to take pro-active excitement to get us through it. 

Our list had things like baking pumpkin treats and cookies... 

It had things like manicures and pedicures... 

It had board game playing, library book reading and movie watching... 

It had wii game playing and chocolate eating and caramel apple cider drinking... 

It had Genny making dinner one night, a special family movie night- complete with special treats... 

That girl and I, we planned a fantastic four day weekend and we've knocked a lot of happiness and beautiful moments off of that bucket list. 

Of course, I had to get a little work done too. She was, in true Genny form, pretty awesome about that. So awesome, in fact, that while I was out doing a photo gig, she dressed up and decided to take advantage of the moment... 

She's pretty lovely, eh? 

I think so... 

As much as I miss her during the day, now that she's schooling mainstream- and as much as I worry about her and the things that happen at school- I have to admit I've loved this... I've loved the something special that comes along with days together. I've loved hearing how much she appreciates the more structured classes and knowing that it is truly because of me and the way that I educated her. The things I always got so frustrated with, and told her one day she'd love (while she screamed her doubts) are now the strengths she owns. {and she owns them well...} 

I have loved the laughing and the smiles and the sweet multitude of minutes that have filled our days. 

Sure, she's 12. She's rude sometimes. She's mouthy sometimes. She is totally entitled and self centered most of the time. Then again, she's 12, I can not expect much less. But, she is also open and shares with me about her life. She sings when she does her chores, and every other second... She is happy and she is whole and she is amazing and lovely... {and sometimes amazingly frustrating, but whatever...} 

In a nutshell: She's the perfect distraction from the scary show... and to think, she kind of used to be the scary show... I'd say this is definite progress! 

Comfort zone...

I hate to be that person. Honestly, I do. 

I know that quite a percentage of my readers do not subscribe to the beliefs of Christianity. Please allow me to take a moment to tell you how grateful I am that you read my words anyway, knowing that I do. In an era when even the word Christian is synonymous with bigotry and so many other negative words and actions- i am incredibly grateful that you stick around. 

So, back to my original sentence... i really do hate to be that person... You know, the critical one. 

Let me back up. 

I saw a really amazing movie recently. It raw, and honest and moving. It deals with real sticky subject matter and I honestly believe that anyone whose life has been touched by cancer would draw something from it. It really left me changed, in a way, and thinking about how that's what movies should be like. I mean, granted, there always going to movies simply for entertainments sake and that's ok. Some of them are awful and some of them are fun to watch. But most of the time, the movies that will stand through time and hold the loyalty of faithful audiences are going to be the ones that truly meant something... The one's we take from. 50/50 is that film. 

Also recently, (more recently than 50/50) Chw and I went on a double date to catch a showing of Courageous. I can't begin to tell you how many friends i had who enthusiastically encouraged everyone they knew to see this film. I long ago made the decision to NOT overly criticize "Christian" films because they lack the big budgets and screen start power that mainstream films have. Typically they are rough, poorly acted, blah blah blah. But again, i firmly believe that movies should mean something, so the other stuff doesn't matter.

Courageous... I felt like this film sorely missed the mark (and the point) with why this company began making films to begin with. Somewhere along the way I think the ticket purchases took away some common sense. The storyline in this film was truly beautiful. It convicted my husband, on multiple levels, about what it truly means to be a good husband and father. It challenged his perception of good enough vs. great. We laughed, and a scene even choked us up a little... And then, though it had teetered on crossing an invisible line before- it blatantly jumped off the pier head first towards the end. 

A few facts: 

- people go to the movies, first and foremost, to be entertained. 

- on occasion, SOME people may hope to take some depth with them, as well. 

- people who don't already love Jesus DO NOT feel respected paying $10 for a ticket to a sermon. They feel ripped off. IT DOES NOT REACH THEM- it insults them. 

- churches buying out theaters so their members can see the film does not make it a "box office success, changing lives and reaching millions." It makes it a staged success... 

- save everyone some frustration and money and buy a pre-release DVD to show at your church. You know, where preaching is supposed to happen. 

From a Christian perspective, the bottom line should always be to reach others. 

At least in America, throwing it in their face doesn't reach people. Instead it convinces them that they were right about us to begin with... 

Movies like Soul Surfer, for example, gently tell the story they came to say, and then respectfully roll the credits. They plant seeds and leave the audience to mull over it- or walk away. I appreciate that. 

I love Jesus. i do... And yet, this movie was a bit much for me. 

And, as i have undoubtedly ticked off a lot of people, I have one more thing to say... A PG rating does not make it a family film. Please treat your kids better than that. Telling your kids you are going on a "family" trip to the movies, and then seeing a movie like Courageous sends the wrong message to your kids. Your kids do not understand what is on the screen before them. How can they, this adult stuff and they are KIDS. They will be bored. You will get upset. It isn't pretty for anyone. 

Pretty much that's all i have to say. Like it or hate it, it's ok. I know people who, at the very moment are accusing me of dumbing my beliefs down or denying them. It isn't about that. It is a matter of respecting people. 

welcome to the uncool table...

Does your life ever feel like it subscribes to a certain theme? Like suddenly you read a book that has something particular in it, and suddenly that same thing is playing on your television, and suddenly friends are calling or emailing you with the same topic in mind... 

I don't know what i'm saying really, i just sometimes subscribe to the notion that my life umbrellas in under a certain theme, from time to time. 

Like now... 

Take Gen, for example. She's happily implanted into the trenches of middle school. She loves school, she loves her days and she is (for the most part) doing really well... BUT, (because, you know, there's always a "but") there's this girl. And this girl's friends... And their little lame clique doesn't exactly make life easy for Gen. It's a frustration. A frustration that she's handling really well considering she's only twelve. {and considering her main confidant about the situation is me and I am stupid and have no idea what I am talking about so she knows not to listen to me, because you know- at 12 she knows everything...} 

So, on a particularly bad day of this, I had three different people text me and mention they were watching Mean Girls. On DVD no less, not cable. Weird, right? 

And then I found out that a friend of mine has been talking about me behind my back. I have a VERY surface friendship with this person even though I suspect she believes we are closer. I am very guarded with her for many, MANY reasons, but I was still surprised and hurt when I found out. 

And then there is the fact that I am completely obsessed with Bath and Body Work's new tween hand sanitizers... 

AND I am all caught up with who is going to the Jr. High Halloween Dance with who... (because this actually changes daily, which is SO SURPRISING for middle school relationships. *Cough*) 

Truly, madly, deeply...

i kind of had this relationship between my divorce and reconciliation. We had been friends, (albeit new friends) when my marriage fell apart and then, a few months later he professed his love for me. 

Via song. 

Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden, to be exact. 

It's kind of funny because the emotion that song evoked, in me, upon gaining national radio (over played) airtime was more along the gagging, eye roll expressing emotion. When you fast forward a year or so, add a guy to the mix and when he sings that song to me (expressing that it is his favorite song EVER) suddenly it is the most exceptionally beautiful song ever written... 

But we, as people are kind of complex like that. 

I mean, I love my husband. I LOVE him, and I believe that in loving him- more than anything else- it means I am actively choosing him constantly. And the thing about choosing is that I did choose my husband over the Truly, Madly, Deeply guy. The one person who had been there (aside from Chw and I) to know the hurt and pain that was my every day existence. We grew as close as we did, in the short time frame that we did because my husband sadly left me with nothing but broken shambles of something that hadn't been so great to begin with. He got to know me through my fragmented life, my fragmented heart. Did he love me truly, madly or deeply? Maybe. In his own way. Did I love him? I did. Not in the way I ever loved my husband, or anyone else for that matter. It was something real though. 

Something from a long time ago. 

And I've never regretting coming home to Chw. 

I have never regretting closing that door and telling the TMD guy goodbye... NEVER. 

And then, one day I am driving down the road and what song should come on the radio? 

Yep. 

And rationally I think, it shouldn't matter. It's over. That was a long time ago and I do love my husband in a way that nothing else could even remotely compare to.

Yet, my heart stirs. 

Something tugs internally, and tears threaten to stream. 

And I thank God that although I love my husband every day, that on this particular one I wasn't harboring any resentment or anger towards him because folks- that moment right there is the stuff that affairs and divorce grow from. 

That's the seeds. 

No matter how safe or protected we believe we are- the seeds ARE there as sure as our heart and lungs are. They are there, in one form or another, and they wait. 

They wait to tug when we are in that frame of mind that might nurture them along. Maybe it's a nostalgic moment, or an old familiar scent in the air. Perhaps it's a compliment from a co-worker or the grazing of hands in the work place. 

I know this is a little deep, but it's worth saying (and hearing) and repeating. Marriages, at their rock solid strongest, are more fragile than anything else we have. And our spouses, even at their most selfish and annoying are still the ones we chose- just like even at our most disgusting and bitchy- we're theirs... 

Now, to lighten to mood here is a sampling of the most cliche', nauseating and infinitely beautiful song ever recorded... (although, not any less cliche' my personal favorite would be Annie's song by John Denver) 

Confession: Single Lady...

So, my husband moved over the weekend. 

I know, i know. To many of you a resounding quake of shock and awe is rolling beneath your planted butts feet.

The thing is, though I have done my fair share of whining and complaining over the past six weeks, on this blog, I was embarrassed to tell you how bad things had gotten.  

It was ugly, you guys, and at the end of the day I have felt only guilt and responsibility for the situation with Chw... 

You see, as you may remember, I was sick. 

REALLY sick. 

And i couldn't sleep much, or in connected spurts at all. It was pretty miserable and while he was willing to tolerate a few nights of his disturbed beauty sleep, he had to admit pretty quickly that a grumpy bear of a father/husband and a completely checked-out ill mom/wife are a bad combination. 

So, he left me... 

For the couch. 

And he's been there ever since. 

And it was sad, and yet not sad all at the same time. 

But over the weekend, though I still struggle sleeping and breathing and coughing and actually staying asleep- he deemed me well enough for him to move home to our bed. 

These are good days ahead folks... 

I love my well rested man... (now let's just hope nothing is lingering and he doesn't catch the plague I now call September...)

The ordinary...

It is in the exchange of simple, kisses in passing or grazing fingertips through doorways. 

Stretched out foot, in bed, reaching for his. Reassuringly it reaches back, touching. 

Cheek peck kisses, zipped up jacket and lunchbox in tow. 

Ordinary. 

I love my ordinary. My loud morning following by dirty breakfast dishes and silence. 

It is in those dishes that I know my home has family in it. Love in it. Warmth. 

In the morning's oatmeal, more than fiber and belly warming happened. 

Ordinary. 

Cozy towels still evident with lingering dryer heat. 

Soft socks. 

DVD rentals and take out. To droves of hipsters and cynics this life is known as the boring life, the over life- The end. 

To me it is simply the ordinary. The goodness. The toothbrush, complete with toothpaste waiting for me because he brushed his teeth first. The coffee pot, full with steamy goodness waiting because one of us turned it on. 

The ordinary. My ordinary...

{For more Five Minute Friday, please go to the Gypsy Mama.}

the back up plan...

Recently my husband was asked to sit in a meeting where he walked away with some very grim insight into the future of his current job. That being said, I realize most men are hardwired to worry about things like job security and to obsess over things like work. It took me awhile to get this, but now I do. Over the years, upon coming to this place I have learned to be a bit more aware of Chw's sensitivity to this, therefore encouraging him. 

So, when he fumbled through our evening acting a little funny, I simply waited. At eleven when he sat me down and said we needed to talk, I sat down to listen. 

He's worried. 

He's worried to the point of coming up with crazy suggestions like selling all of our worldly possessions and moving to New Mexico. Or joining the circus... 

From what I gather, he (along with other managers) has been given the task of finding ways to cut extreme costs or they are looking at time served in the unemployment line. 

"We need a back up plan." He flatly stated. 

A back up plan. 

For, you know, if our lives (as we know them) fall apart. 

This really got me thinking... 

Unfortunately my daily fantasy of living pool side in Phoenix, with my spanish tiled roof and rock front yard (just minutes from BOTH IKEA and Trader Joe's) doesn't really fit into the idea of an emergency back up plan. So, pretty much I had nothing to offer him. (suffice it to say I am NOT really a huge fan of the NM part of this plan. The circus thing I could work with because the circus has elephants, and giraffes. But also clowns, so it's still a scary option, but doable.) So, instead I took the other side of the spectrum. Why did i have to wrack my brain over a back up plan, if I was able to single handedly revolutionize things at his company, therefore saving them loads of cash. 

Genius right? 

Brainstorming, at nearly midnight, here's what i came up with... 

{and personally, if you ask me, it's an awesome first draft!} 

• First off, the company spends roughly $30,000 per month in electricity. I immediately suggested applying for a grant that would cover a huge chunk of transitioning to partial solar energy. Then i chided myself, pointing out that wasn't extreme enough. We are talking CPR extreme changes needed, SO I suggested: why not have their employees work in the dark? They can wear the little miner head lamps so they can work more efficiently, of course... 
• Second, periodically there will be safety luncheons, or training lunches that are catered. As far as i am concerned this is a HUGE waste of money. I remember many a school day field trips where my mom was asked to provide a few dollars to cover my sack lunch consisting of a PB & J, an apple and a string cheese. There is no reason that these luncheons can't function the same. Let's face it, if these grown men feel like they would need more food- they can bring it themselves. Or what about a safety potluck? SEE! The possibilities are endless!
• Third, I feel that on occasion some of the employees can behave a tad on the need-to-be-babysat-6 year old scale of things. Being one who actually grew up and became an adult roughly twenty some years ago, I feel this is a little sad. I suggested letting a person from each shift go and hiring a drill sergeant to take their place. My prediction was that within 90 days things would be running far smoother than they ever have before, and with A LOT less screw ups.
• Lastly, was my extreme motivator. Earlier this week one of my husband's employees was injured. Suffice it to say a VERY large metal drill (think radius of a tire) came fiercely into contact with his head. Not pretty... The good news though is, after an ambulence ride to the hospital, a ton of lost blood and a few days of R & R, he is doing awesome and itching to come back to work. I say, let's slap a label on this thing (thus birthing the Head Gong) and throw it into the mix. 

It would work like this: 

• Employee A gets in trouble for constantly ruining parts due to his inability to stop day dreaming about ALSO living poolside in Phoenix. HEAD GONG. 
• Employee B clocks in late 40 days in a row, actually rolling his eyes at my husband's pleas for him to be on time and care about his job. HEAD GONG. 

I mean we've already proven it to be safe and obviously highly effective... (read: itching to come back to work.)

Suffice it to say, my husband wasn't really on board with any of my suggestions. He's such a party pooper. 

My new back up plan suggestion: Worst case scenario, i can be hired out by companies to revolutionize the way they do things, streamline their methods and save them money. I think it's obviously a real hidden skill I have. 

Not one, but two...

For argument's sake let's just say, hypothetically, that my wedding anniversary is in a few weeks. 

Ok. Technically speaking, my wedding anniversary is in a few weeks. 

When we decided to reconcile our divorce, in 2001, we may have briefly considered remarrying on our original date (April 2) but truth be told, I don't think we really thought much about such things. And then, six months after our remarriage, when April the second rolled around, I pointed out that it was our anniversary and well... 

We began to disagree. 

My loving and adoring husband wanted the past to remain in the past. Fresh start and all that. While I agreed to a certain degree, I also knew that those first five years of marriage were just as crucial to who we were individually and together as anything else could be. 

Welcome to the impass. Complicatingly we settled neatly into the rut of ignoring our anniversary completely. "you know, it is so inconvenient that November 10th is just before the holidays. Why don't we just do something special on April 2nd?" 

But then... 

"wow, April the 2nd is just a few days after my (Misty) birthday and a few weeks before yours, (Chw) which seems complicated. Let's wait and do something really special November 10th." 

Something truly tragic was born. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying one date needs a first class trip to Paris, but some form of acknowledgement/honor is pretty vital to the life of a marriage. Invest in each other... 

At some point, we grew up. By grew up I mean we took this awesome class which led to us having a reclaiming ceremony for our original anniversary and now we celebrate both. (the entire solution was obvious all along, I don't know why we weren't really getting the clue!) 

The one thing we have never (ever) done however is Anniversary gifts. Never. Not the first marriage round and not this one. Wait, I take that back. When Gen and I moved to Idaho and Chw stayed behind in Michigan until he found a job here, he did send me a beautiful T & Co. necklace and roses for our November anniversary. Truth be told though, i think that was more or less one of those absence makes the heart grow fonder sort of deals. At any rate, we've decided to shake things up a bit. In a few weeks the pressure is on and we are exchanging gifts. It's our remarried 10 year date. Seems like a good time to shake up tradition a little bit. I totally know what I am giving him (and I benefit too) but every day when he asks me for hints I can think of nothing. 

Any ideas? 

At least there's that...

As you have likely heard me whine about how sick I've been, since August, i thought about doing a numbers post today. You know, how many boxes of tissues I've gone through- how many dollars my medical visits/hospital trips add up to, etc... Funny? Possibly. 

But I just don't feel funny this morning. 

First thing, this morning, on FB I was reminded that my friend's mom is going in for a mastectomy this afternoon. Even though I went to bed knowing all of the same things that I woke up knowing, it occurred to me that life has been really heavy lately. 

No, not tissue consumption, dragging illness heavy- but much bigger. 

In the past few weeks alone I know of several people who unexpectedly died. 

I know of three (THREE) teenagers who were killed in car accidents.

Two friends suffered miscarriages. 

My friend's little sister suffered a stroke due to AVM and has been downgraded (Praise God!) from critical condition to serious, though at first she wasn't expected to make it at all. 

So many heavy things... 

Sure, maybe i was really miserable with my viral infection but really it pales significantly in comparison. 

i have been reminded, a lot lately, of the lack of guarantees in our days. Though I dream (and pray for) of growing old with my husband- there is no promise that I will. As countless people around me have lost, or are facing the real possibility of losing loved ones i feel slapped in the face by my own possibilities... 

While we suffered many miscarriages and my mom's stroke (from a distance) we have been really fortunate to not go through anything like the loss of a child/spouse. 

i know this is kinda heavy, and I'm sorry. Especially since my last post was a whine about Gen's behavior. I guess I just need to reiterate for myself, as well as anyone else who might need reminding, that the two things are always certain: 

the sun will always rise, (a fresh start/peace will come.) 

the sun will always set, ( the hard days will come to a close.)