Oh brother, it's not even a word and requires a hyphen. More reasons for me not to understand or like the word let alone the "activity." It is NOT a sport. Okay, let me clarify....... the ones doing dangerous flips and tosses...... that is some talent and some guts and a little bit of craziness. It is a very physical activity and even athletic. But, it is not a sport and never will be to me. For me, sports require at least one ball. It's a competition when teams go to events, yes. But the only balls involved in cheer-leading are those possessed between the legs of males who get credit for being strong men, yes, but no, not athletes, in this case. What about track? Yes, that one gets me on my definition. Runners are definitely some serious athletes as are swimmers. So let's throw in a clock or a stop watch........ there, now that is better. Don't even get me started on curling.
Why are you talking about being a cheerleader, Windy? Well, a few posts ago, I created a sentence that made me laugh when I wrote it. So this post is inspired by my claiming not to be "some morning barking coffee chicken." Laughing. What I meant was that I am not happy and chipper and everything super duper all the time, especially in the mornings! (I am not a morning sex person and in fact, if Storm ever tried to get frisky when he wakes up at 6 am, I would probably sleep right through the activity because for some reason right around 6 to 8 am are primo sleeping hours for me.)
There are different sides to me and I try to put my best foot forward here in blog land, but I don't always succeed. And then I thought of Roz because she is like a blog land cheerleader with her faithfulness of showing up, cheering us on, often being the first one to greet us on our posts in the mornings, and I am thankful for that. I had most of this post written for over a week, and then PK posted on her blog Thank You Roz! I couldn't believe it. She was thinking the same thing I was and we had not talked about it. So funny! And it says a lot about the quality of person that Roz is. I don't think I've ever seen Roz comment anything negative or crabby. She somehow finds something kind to say. I laugh sometimes when I think of the things Roz has never written...... 1) Wow, this post sucked especially reading it first thing in the morning. 2) What in the hell are you even talking about? 3) Stop complaining and go eat some chippies or something. 4) Your writing is atrocious. Etc! She is just a positive blog land person. ALWAYS! Thanks, Roz! So that kind of cheerleading, I can get behind..........
Now let's go back to the 80's. Do we have to? Yes. Get some hairspray and spray the hair on your forehead straight up in the air. Okay, that sets the mood and now you can see your computer screen more clearly. But, I don't have bangs, Windy. Well, it is technically the apocalypse in the entire world right now, so I guarantee almost all of us look like some sort of wild haired cave woman, so go spray some hair on your body in some manner, even if it's your bush. And if you have already been to get your haircut since some local restrictions have eased, I hope to God that you wore a mask. Be safe. Don't be dumb. It takes zero effort to wear a mask. (But, I love you even if you feel differently than I do about that. Just don't breathe on me, please.)
Okay, so in the 70's and 80's. Wait, you only said 80's. Well, now, I'm saying 70's and if you've got the wild bush thing going on like I do right now, then you're all set. If not, maybe put on some bell bottoms. Better yet, take off your pants and be like Porky Pig. Windy, you know dog gone well, that nudity and free love thing is from the 60's . You want us to go back that far? What I would like is for all of us to make it to the next dang paragraph!
Cheer-leading back in the day was not what it is today. I grew up with the kind where a group of girls dressed up in uniforms with a skirt and no numbers on their chests. Wait, I mean a skimpy uniform and the bottom half of that was shoved up their cracks. Yes, these girls dressed up in their 1/2 uniforms to yell across the court or field at another group of people dressed up in 1/2 uniforms while cheering for or against 2 teams with 2 different colors of uniforms fighting over a ball of some sort. I just didn't get it.
There was a time when my girl was little and she wanted to be a cheerleader and I almost died. But, she was still tiny and young enough to where it was cute......... way before the middle school and high school drama that often accompanies cheer squads. Ugh.
If you're wondering whether or not I would classify fishing as a sport, my answer is no, I do not. It's a challenge, it's exciting (to me).......... but there is no ball ....... although technically, there is a tiny one that you put on your fishing line for a certain reason but I won't get into it as who cares and it still doesn't make it a sport. It's just a hook and a worm up against a fish. If the body of a fish is smaller than the palm of one's hand, you definitely throw it back. But, before you do, a good fisherwoman tells this fish to go back in, hide better from bigger fish, do not take candy(worms) from strangers, and do a good job growing for a while, and I'll see you again in a few years. Look at that encouragement. Kind of like a cheerleader! I have seen other fisherman do and say similar things. My dad, for example, tells a tiny perch to go back in the water and send back his big brother. He has also said to a small fish that have accidentallly run into the hook with their fin or their eyeball or whatever, "You dummy! You zigged when you should have zagged!" And that always makes me laugh.
I don't know which of you were cheerleaders back in the day, and some of y'all might have dressed as cheerleaders for role play, but I love ya anyway! And, no, sex is not a sport even though there are usually 2 balls involved!
Sunday, May 31, 2020
Thursday, May 21, 2020
Gone Fishin'
I am at one of my Happy Places....... fishing with my dad!
I love walking into my parents' house because it just smells clean and looks very pretty. My mom has excellent taste in decor and it looks different this time because she has been painting. There are always naughty snacks around, yummy dinners, and fresh, clean sheets. It's really good to see them as it has been a while. We are social distancing in the house, yes, and nobody has been out running around like an idiot for the past 9 weeks, so we're safe here.
As we visit, none of us guarantees that we know what day of the week it is, but we definitely know what time it is as there are a hundred and nine clocks here and even if I don't have my glasses on, I can just look up at these clocks with the diameter of almost 3 feet and figure it out just fine. There are many bells and whistles going off with everyone's text alerts and phone ring tones chiming, squawking, buzzing, etc. I can't figure out if I am in some sort of fairy land or hell. Depends if I have a migraine or not. We have to speak loudly to the Giant (my dad) who lives here if we expect any kind of coherent answer. There is no hen that lays golden eggs, but the mother hen makes a mean scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast! There are no magic beans to throw out the window that grow into a gargantuan stalk, but the chipmunks dig up only the yellow flowers every night so my mom has to plant them again! There is also a raccoon that steals the hummingbird feeder if my dad forgets to bring it in overnight. This place is hilarious! Amazing birds visit every day. Redheaded Woodpeckers, Downy Woodpeckers, Orioles, Cardinals, Blue Jays, and today a Scarlet Tanager! My father is a birder and he taught our daughter from the age of 2 to be one as well. She is a photographer and a birder and she is now a college student once again. We are thrilled and so proud of her and how far she has come since battling a serious illness that stole way too many years of her young life. We celebrate victories big and small here in our home. We share them with those closest to us who know the struggle is real and love us anyway.
During this visit, my mom does have to remind my dad of some things such as the technique of coughing into his elbow. He doesn't like that she bosses him, so he teased and said she was mean. I eyed the big old cheeseboard with a handle on it that my mom uses as the base of a centerpiece for the large dining table and it is obvious to me as it sounds to you that it looks like a giant paddle. I picked it up. It's quite thick and heavy and I swung it gently toward my mom's rear end as my dad was looking on. He replied, "It aint big enough for the job." We all died laughing.
When the fish aren't biting, we nap, read, and visit. My mom had to walk down to their sweet hippie neighbor's house to get some paperwork from him. My dad said she wasn't fooling anyone and he knew she was going down there to smoke pot with their friend. Laughing!
Both of my parents were thrilled to hear that the trees and/or Rose of Sharon sticks that we planted in my yard last fall finally look like something other than snowman arms. I texted my mom last week and said that my snowman arms finally have little green leaves on them! I sent a snowman emoji and a leaves emoji to her. She replied with about 15 emojis representing some kind of celebration at the good news and then she included this: And "insert middle finger emoji" to all the doubters and Christopher, too! HAHAHAHA So there is the update I promised you all last year on the tree planting and the stranger who almost talked my mom into taking him to the big city. He tried a repeat performance a month or so ago when he showed up in our backyard again and I heard him yelling at his caregivers trying to corral him back in to their car.
And now, guess where I am headed..........
I love walking into my parents' house because it just smells clean and looks very pretty. My mom has excellent taste in decor and it looks different this time because she has been painting. There are always naughty snacks around, yummy dinners, and fresh, clean sheets. It's really good to see them as it has been a while. We are social distancing in the house, yes, and nobody has been out running around like an idiot for the past 9 weeks, so we're safe here.
As we visit, none of us guarantees that we know what day of the week it is, but we definitely know what time it is as there are a hundred and nine clocks here and even if I don't have my glasses on, I can just look up at these clocks with the diameter of almost 3 feet and figure it out just fine. There are many bells and whistles going off with everyone's text alerts and phone ring tones chiming, squawking, buzzing, etc. I can't figure out if I am in some sort of fairy land or hell. Depends if I have a migraine or not. We have to speak loudly to the Giant (my dad) who lives here if we expect any kind of coherent answer. There is no hen that lays golden eggs, but the mother hen makes a mean scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast! There are no magic beans to throw out the window that grow into a gargantuan stalk, but the chipmunks dig up only the yellow flowers every night so my mom has to plant them again! There is also a raccoon that steals the hummingbird feeder if my dad forgets to bring it in overnight. This place is hilarious! Amazing birds visit every day. Redheaded Woodpeckers, Downy Woodpeckers, Orioles, Cardinals, Blue Jays, and today a Scarlet Tanager! My father is a birder and he taught our daughter from the age of 2 to be one as well. She is a photographer and a birder and she is now a college student once again. We are thrilled and so proud of her and how far she has come since battling a serious illness that stole way too many years of her young life. We celebrate victories big and small here in our home. We share them with those closest to us who know the struggle is real and love us anyway.
During this visit, my mom does have to remind my dad of some things such as the technique of coughing into his elbow. He doesn't like that she bosses him, so he teased and said she was mean. I eyed the big old cheeseboard with a handle on it that my mom uses as the base of a centerpiece for the large dining table and it is obvious to me as it sounds to you that it looks like a giant paddle. I picked it up. It's quite thick and heavy and I swung it gently toward my mom's rear end as my dad was looking on. He replied, "It aint big enough for the job." We all died laughing.
When the fish aren't biting, we nap, read, and visit. My mom had to walk down to their sweet hippie neighbor's house to get some paperwork from him. My dad said she wasn't fooling anyone and he knew she was going down there to smoke pot with their friend. Laughing!
Both of my parents were thrilled to hear that the trees and/or Rose of Sharon sticks that we planted in my yard last fall finally look like something other than snowman arms. I texted my mom last week and said that my snowman arms finally have little green leaves on them! I sent a snowman emoji and a leaves emoji to her. She replied with about 15 emojis representing some kind of celebration at the good news and then she included this: And "insert middle finger emoji" to all the doubters and Christopher, too! HAHAHAHA So there is the update I promised you all last year on the tree planting and the stranger who almost talked my mom into taking him to the big city. He tried a repeat performance a month or so ago when he showed up in our backyard again and I heard him yelling at his caregivers trying to corral him back in to their car.
And now, guess where I am headed..........
Sunday, May 3, 2020
Amazing Grace, it's Been 2 Years!
It feels like 20! Ha! I've done a lot of living in my 2 years of blogging. Compared to many other years of my adult life, yes, I have lived and loved fiercely these past 2 years and I am not ashamed of having offered my vulnerability to others. I have loved hard and been loved in return, and I have also loved hard and lost hard.
Do I have any regrets so far? Yes, I wish I had a few do-overs within the past two years and looking back on my life as a whole. I think many people who claim they have no regrets are in denial. I marvel at some who live in their imaginary bubbles, totally unaware that the rest of us can clearly see right through their transparent coverings. It's like a little child who when she first learns to play hide-and-go-seek believes that if she just covers her own eyes, no one can see her because she can't see herself. Hopefully, most of us aren't rude enough, mean enough, or so lacking in manners that you do burst someone else's bubble. However, I think it's healthy to self assess our own bubbles every now and then, do some deflating if not an outright popping of them, and then blow anew.
For me, as I reflect on my own life, it's not that I would always do the exact opposite in these hypothetical do-overs, but I would definitely do a few things softer. I wouldn't love less intensely because that is just a huge part of who I have been since I was a sensitive little girl, but I would choose wiser those that I let right next to my heart, let go easier the harsh opinions and lectures that weren't healthy for me, and make sure I keep all the good ones right here in my spirit. I am not better at love in many of its forms than anyone else (give yourself some credit, whispers my inner spirit), but I am often more willing to be intimate with others in whom I sometimes find that they hide their vulnerability, no matter how strong they claim to be, how accomplished they might be, how sure of themselves they appear, or how above meaningful connection they sometimes hold themselves. I see you and I've always seen you and I'm not sorry for being able to do so. I truly feel that someone strong enough yet gentle enough needs to come along and crack a few hardened shells. Humans need to both give and receive love and acceptance even when we don't recognize or struggle with admitting that we do. For those in my life who see right into my bubble, my successes and failures, easily reading my heart when it's soft, medium, or hard, and for giving me grace as I work on my bubble, I say bravo and thank you. You know who you are. However, even if you just read here and rarely or never comment, you do know me at least a little through my self revelations and my wacky sense of humor. I welcome you here on my blog and you are welcome to get to know me and my fellow commenters here. I want this to be a safe place for you if you're looking somewhere to land. As a fisherwoman, I promise I know how to safely land a fish and I will treat you with the same respectful care. But, you catch them on a sharp hook, Windy! True, but they won't respond to a beckoning whistle! Don't worry, I won't fillet you, fry you up in a pan, and eat you like a starving devout Catholic on a Friday during Lent. Probably. Unless you're a dick. Not Storm's dick though 'cuz I like that one!
I believe some of life holds periods of time where a person or a group of persons need to catch up to where others are. And we need to let them for flip's sake! We need each other's grace and we need to offer that grace especially woman to woman -- everywhere--- in our families, with friends old and new, with our pain in the ass neighbors and co-workers, with our sisters and daughters whether small or grown, living at home or having flown the coop. The older must teach the younger, the experienced climbers need to show others the ropes. So what if it slows you down a bit to help somebody. Reach up to grow yourself and reach back to pull somebody else forward. Give each other this space and grace.
You show me someone who claims to have never experienced the pain of rejection, to have made no mistakes, and to have never needed any kind of help from anyone ever, and I'll show you a fibber and evidence of stunted emotional growth. There is no substitute for actual life experience, although education in its many forms is important. I am a person who has been very open to change within myself and initiating change within the subcultures in which I participate, especially these past 2 years. I am not proficient enough to explain how difficult this has been, how much of a toll it has taken on me, and how I somehow receive such things into my spirit extremely deep and personal. Let no one assume that this personal change thing is always perceived as healthy..... in my experience, it has been quite the opposite. Imagine educating yourself not based on some new flimsy idea or trend, but in historical truth, in clear facts, in science, about various faiths of others, differences in how one loves and who one loves and not only accepting them but affirming them (that's a huge distinction) and in the different ways that many good people live. And then imagine trying to break into that kind of life while still keeping one foot in the old subculture whether it be "the church", a group of friends or coworkers, family members, or a Venn diagram of all of those categories and more. In each new place, you're facing a ton of people who don't know you or recognize you, who have judged the habits of those like me that have come before me, and they will continue to do so until I have proven over and over again that I am not a typical anything and I can walk their line if I choose to do so. And let me tell you that is an amazing feat because I was never told what or where the dog gone line was in the first place.
Stepping outside my own bubble and looking back in it, I have identified errors in my thinking and behavior and I am still making personal changes, but 99 percent of people within most subcultures don't like change not only within themselves, but within their groups, and any change whatsoever in any of its members. It's mind boggling and some of it is gas lighting and all of it just feels like so many people are disappointed in me and that makes me feel disappointed in myself. I find myself repeatedly stunned and whispering What in the actual fuck? I am so hard on myself already, I agonize over relationships, friendships, and EVERYTHING, and I honestly do not need a heavy hand from anybody (other than Storm wielding whatever implement!). I have allowed this to shut me down and close myself off from others at times , which is the exact opposite of what I set out to do and of who I am. I'm not some happy, barky morning coffee chicken (what?!) filled to the brim with all good news and viewing everybody's cups as half full 100 percent of the time. It is very challenging to give yourself grace and mercy when the people you care about don't offer it. And, I deserve it, dammit. So do you. Unless you're a serial killer. Hmm. Or a serial hurter/bubble popper. In either case, stop it!
Am I happy with what I have written on my blog? For the most part, yes. You gals (and some guys?) have been very receptive to my style of writing and sharing, no matter what the topic. Thank you. I'm no longer walking anyone else's ridiculous imaginary lines, I feel good about that, and I think it is reflected here in my writing. I feel much truer to myself even though I think finding oneself is an ongoing lifetime process.
Most importantly, Storm and I are in a good place in our everyday marriage and our dd marriage. I would just call the latter a delicious secret between us that cannot always be right in the open for all to see. It is for the protection of others and the sanctity of it between us as to why we must be the only two in the world who truly know what is lying just beneath the surface -- that electrifying secret. Please stay tuned as I share as much of it as I possibly can with this special blog land audience who gets it. I share not always with total comfort, but I'm more into being real, admitting my missteps and righting them if I am given the grace to do so. I will keep taking difficult chances in revealing my heart, and I will continue to share my sense of humor with ease. Thank you, to my husband, Storm, for leading the way with grace and mercy, freely giving it here in our home. For those of you who have stepped forward in my life and who currently support me, thank you for investing in me. I've tried to make your time worth it.
Do I have any regrets so far? Yes, I wish I had a few do-overs within the past two years and looking back on my life as a whole. I think many people who claim they have no regrets are in denial. I marvel at some who live in their imaginary bubbles, totally unaware that the rest of us can clearly see right through their transparent coverings. It's like a little child who when she first learns to play hide-and-go-seek believes that if she just covers her own eyes, no one can see her because she can't see herself. Hopefully, most of us aren't rude enough, mean enough, or so lacking in manners that you do burst someone else's bubble. However, I think it's healthy to self assess our own bubbles every now and then, do some deflating if not an outright popping of them, and then blow anew.
I believe some of life holds periods of time where a person or a group of persons need to catch up to where others are. And we need to let them for flip's sake! We need each other's grace and we need to offer that grace especially woman to woman -- everywhere--- in our families, with friends old and new, with our pain in the ass neighbors and co-workers, with our sisters and daughters whether small or grown, living at home or having flown the coop. The older must teach the younger, the experienced climbers need to show others the ropes. So what if it slows you down a bit to help somebody. Reach up to grow yourself and reach back to pull somebody else forward. Give each other this space and grace.You show me someone who claims to have never experienced the pain of rejection, to have made no mistakes, and to have never needed any kind of help from anyone ever, and I'll show you a fibber and evidence of stunted emotional growth. There is no substitute for actual life experience, although education in its many forms is important. I am a person who has been very open to change within myself and initiating change within the subcultures in which I participate, especially these past 2 years. I am not proficient enough to explain how difficult this has been, how much of a toll it has taken on me, and how I somehow receive such things into my spirit extremely deep and personal. Let no one assume that this personal change thing is always perceived as healthy..... in my experience, it has been quite the opposite. Imagine educating yourself not based on some new flimsy idea or trend, but in historical truth, in clear facts, in science, about various faiths of others, differences in how one loves and who one loves and not only accepting them but affirming them (that's a huge distinction) and in the different ways that many good people live. And then imagine trying to break into that kind of life while still keeping one foot in the old subculture whether it be "the church", a group of friends or coworkers, family members, or a Venn diagram of all of those categories and more. In each new place, you're facing a ton of people who don't know you or recognize you, who have judged the habits of those like me that have come before me, and they will continue to do so until I have proven over and over again that I am not a typical anything and I can walk their line if I choose to do so. And let me tell you that is an amazing feat because I was never told what or where the dog gone line was in the first place.
Stepping outside my own bubble and looking back in it, I have identified errors in my thinking and behavior and I am still making personal changes, but 99 percent of people within most subcultures don't like change not only within themselves, but within their groups, and any change whatsoever in any of its members. It's mind boggling and some of it is gas lighting and all of it just feels like so many people are disappointed in me and that makes me feel disappointed in myself. I find myself repeatedly stunned and whispering What in the actual fuck? I am so hard on myself already, I agonize over relationships, friendships, and EVERYTHING, and I honestly do not need a heavy hand from anybody (other than Storm wielding whatever implement!). I have allowed this to shut me down and close myself off from others at times , which is the exact opposite of what I set out to do and of who I am. I'm not some happy, barky morning coffee chicken (what?!) filled to the brim with all good news and viewing everybody's cups as half full 100 percent of the time. It is very challenging to give yourself grace and mercy when the people you care about don't offer it. And, I deserve it, dammit. So do you. Unless you're a serial killer. Hmm. Or a serial hurter/bubble popper. In either case, stop it!Am I happy with what I have written on my blog? For the most part, yes. You gals (and some guys?) have been very receptive to my style of writing and sharing, no matter what the topic. Thank you. I'm no longer walking anyone else's ridiculous imaginary lines, I feel good about that, and I think it is reflected here in my writing. I feel much truer to myself even though I think finding oneself is an ongoing lifetime process.
Most importantly, Storm and I are in a good place in our everyday marriage and our dd marriage. I would just call the latter a delicious secret between us that cannot always be right in the open for all to see. It is for the protection of others and the sanctity of it between us as to why we must be the only two in the world who truly know what is lying just beneath the surface -- that electrifying secret. Please stay tuned as I share as much of it as I possibly can with this special blog land audience who gets it. I share not always with total comfort, but I'm more into being real, admitting my missteps and righting them if I am given the grace to do so. I will keep taking difficult chances in revealing my heart, and I will continue to share my sense of humor with ease. Thank you, to my husband, Storm, for leading the way with grace and mercy, freely giving it here in our home. For those of you who have stepped forward in my life and who currently support me, thank you for investing in me. I've tried to make your time worth it.
Love,
Windy
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