Dry Spell

I seem to be going through a dry spell.  I just cannot think of anything to post about.  I cannot think of anything to say that people would want to read.  Total block.

Does this happen to you?

How do you get yourself out of it?

Can you think of something I should write about? 

Ask me something . . . anything . . .

almost.

Help!

Pssssst!

In a strange turn of events -- okay, it's movie night at school . . . for a cool $50 both my kids can go back to school and watch a movie in their same classrooms with the same classmates and teachers they see everyday.  To say I didn't see the allure is an understatement, but feeling like we can't say no to everything AND knowing the money goes to a good cause, I said yes.

And now I say:  Yipppeeeee!

Because it just occurred to me that my husband and I will be having dinner alone tonight for the first time in ages.

It's a beautiful night.

Steaks on the grill . . .

Potatoes, too.

And mushrooms.

A little wine . . .

And time to eat . . .

And no one to warn.

And . . .

Gotta go!




Get your minds out of the gutter, we have to pick them up at 7:00!

Photo Tag

My pal, Mumsy, over at Raw Thoughts and Feelings has tagged me in the very popular photo tag that has been going around lately.

This is amazingly generous and kind of her since she knows I am not a photographer by any means.  If you want to see beautiful photos, visit her blog.  If you want to feel better about your picture-taking abilities, stay right here.

As I've watched this tag move through the blogs I follow, I have been amazed at the beautiful photos people have just languishing in their computer files.

Mine is not beautiful.  At least not to the distinguishing photographer or photography enthusiast.  But it is beautiful to me.

It's a picture I snapped as my precious little boy crossed the street all by himself for the very first time.

1-26-07

10th photo in 1st file

He was so excited and so proud of himself.

And I was proud of him, too, but I couldn't help thinking about my grandmother's axiom, "Every step they take is a step away from you."

***

As far as tagging anyone else, I believe almost everyone I know who would be certain to do this sort of thing has already done it, so I will not tag anyone directly, but if you would like to join in and have not yet been tagged, please add your link in the comments or email me and I will list your blog here.

Thanks, again, Mumsy. 

Home Again

Sometimes I marvel at the effects of the internet on our lives today.  Sometimes, in my darker moments, I question whether the relationships we make on the internet are as real as we believe.  Events in my life over the past few weeks have removed that doubt and shown me that cyber-friendships can be as real as those in the flesh.

Thank you all for the kindness and support shared in your comments to my last post.  I was away from home and reeling.  I logged on here and posted what was in my heart, and you didn't let me down and responded.  And I realized I wasn't as far away from home as I thought.

As I said in the last post, my parents' rejection shakes me to my core.  As much as I reject their concept of me, part of me cannot shake it completely, and it remains as my own doubt about my character, my heart, and my worth.

When you stepped up with understanding and reassurance and even shared some of your own painful experiences, it meant the world to me.

I'm back home now.  Both with my cyber-friends and my real family.  And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Pain

Do you have anyone in your life whom you constantly seem to disappoint?

Someone whom you love, but are filled with anxiety and uncertainty around? 

Someone who is supposed to love you and claim they do, but they reject you at the slightest provocation?

Someone who can rock you to your core when you feel the weight of their true feelings about you?

It sears my soul to say that, for me, these people are my parents. 
I love them. I do. And I'm sure they would say the same about me. But . . .

My parents are complicated people, as am I. It just appears that we are not compatible. They find hurt in so many things I do and say and, honestly, I'm not sure why. I'm not a mean person.  They see such uglines in things that I do innocently or absent mindedly. They seem to see and revel in the very worst of me, which is certainly present, to be sure.

It has been the biggest struggle of my life, my relationship with my parents. How can it be that I don't recognize the reflection of myself that I see in my parents' eyes? Can they really be that wrong about me?


Aren't parents genetically engineered to see the best in their children? 

Perhaps I am the mean and difficult and nasty person they believe I am. Is that possible? Might I be that person without knowing it?  Is it that no one else sees the real me? Or is afraid to be honest with me?

When you have difficulties on such a deep level with your parents, it blurs your self identity. It makes you question who you are right down to your soul. It makes you distrust yourself in all things.

I'm 40 years old now. I have my own family to focus on; my children to raise. It's time I stand in my own shoes and know who I am. And I do.

Until I mix my parents . . . and then the earth seems to shift beneath my feet . . .

and nothing is sound.

I'm Leavin' . . .

 So I'm going on a little trip this weekend.

Would you believe I haven't been on a plane in 5 years?

When did I get so boring?

Actually, I'm not boring. Ido lots of things. And travel. By car.  Kids and pets will do that to you.  But this weekend, I'm going all by myself . . . like a big girl.  On a jet plane.

And I don't mind telling you, I'm a little nervous.

How is it, the older I get, the more of a baby I become?  

I really hope I don't grab the hand of who ever is next to me and squeeze it for dear life as is my usual ritual upon takeoff. My husband never minds.

So . . . you're rid of me for a couple of days.

I'll be back next week to see what you're all up to.

Until then . . . whatever you do . . . don't talk about me.