Sunday, December 30, 2012

I CAN'T SLEEP! 12-30-2012

This is a somewhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins



This is almost it for 2012! My husband and I have just one New Year's Eve party to go! This final 2012 Deo Volente entry finds me reminiscing about my blogging experience and the holidays. Blogging began in October, with a 2-month commitment, as this non-writer-who-writes began a new adventure with a Halloween post. We traversed to trains and horses; through family ups, downs, and all-arounds.

Thank you for joining me as I perilously waded through my rude 6-year-old phase, figuratively stomping in mud puddles, kissing slimy frogs, and chewing strangers' nasty gum.

I bared my... soldered... soul [pronounced soddered]. Oooh... the adjective solder is perfect! It means to join, mend, repair. My first inclination was to self-deprecate and write "my silly soul." My husband corrects me when I self-deprecate. The word deprecate is close to the spelling of depreciate... and their meanings are similar. Last summer's family historical memoir-writing soldered me to generations before, and I feel connected.

Two months of blogged reactions to my heritage have created a positive "SYNTHETIC HAPPINESS" (see the definition in the right column). For me, it has been therapeutic and more beneficial than spending hours and hours with a skilled therapist.

 
Christmas 2012 is history. Two cherished Christmas photos are in this post to help share the following heart-warming Tale of Two Manger Scenes. The first manger scene is in Neighbor Joe's front yard. I planned this shot long before my grandson ever arrived. I never imagined it would be such an enchanting experience...

... It is dusk, with gentle snow flurries. We are babysitting our little guy, with only one more visit day remaining, and daylight is quickly slipping away. I need to get THE shot: Jeff, it is so beautiful outside. We must get that manger scene picture at Joe's, today and now!

We quickly don warm coats and shoes. Our front steps are snowy, so we cautiously proceed, holding hands. Will the pictures be as good as I had hoped? Photographer Jeff snaps the pictures as we carefully wipe snow off baby Jesus. I love it!
 

This second manger scene picture has a totally different story. My grandson was drawn to this manger scene rather than being led to it... it was hidden in my bedroom... basically for nostalgic purposes... for me. It is an olive wood manger scene from Jerusalem that Mom gifted to me 25 years ago, and he discovered it. He returned to my darkened room every day, two or three times a day to hold the figures, knock them over, and play...I love that he chose to love that sentimental manger scene. See the train he added? Surely there was a train in Jesus' manger!

This unexpected manger scene experience captivates... and mesmerizes me... as it embraces my topic of free-will and choice. Hidden, intentional, chosen Synthetic Happiness is immeasurably rewarding. I'm so glad that my grandson found synthetic happiness as he was repeatedly drawn to my bedroom, to his great-grandma's hidden manger scene.

I wonder how many past opportunities for Synthetic Happiness I have missed because I wasn't brave enough to enter the dark unknown? My most beneficial Synthetic Happiness experiences have actually occurred in the early morning hours, when insomnia overtakes me, which is a perfect segue to the topic of sleep. I don't sleep well! Prior to cancer, I slept like a baby. Since cancer surgery with chemo and hormone-reducing medication, sleeping has been, let's say, challenging... and forget naps.
 
These past couple of months have become disturbingly worse sleep-wise. I toss, and turn, and toss. Even when I do sleep, only light dreams occur. I think of my dear Dad during those sleepless nights. I know he slept poorly, and I hypothesize that he had many, many restless nights of fitful sleep and thought TOO much.


Dad didn't have the benefits of good old Dr. Oz. Earlier this year Dr. Oz shared that light in the bedroom negatively affects melatonin. For people who have insomnia, even the alarm clock's light can hinder a restful night's sleep. I haven't forgotten that tidbit, and finally after months of worsening sleep, I fitfully experimented. That experiment has helped a little. I slept deeply two nights in a row, but now it is random. I can occasionally take Benadryl, and alcohol might work for a better night's sleep, but I will not do that. I do, however, have two suggestions, and I will share them as I move to close this blog.

In my post titled "12-12-12" a man ends up a bond slave in jail because of continued, negligent, poor choices. My choices and the way I exercise free-will help to determine how my "race" will finish. So, 2 months ago, similar to a race horse, I began circling the track to rehearse and research the intriguing question: To whom am I a bond slave: some thing, some one... or Christ?

Like Bob Dylan's song insightfully says, ¯You've gotta serve somebody.¯  My eyes and mental faculties need to be alert, for everyone's sake. I FREELY choose my caring and loving Groomer (Jesus Christ), and intuitive Rider (The Holy Spirit), and my insightfully Good Trainer (God). I train, but my free-will cannot be compared to a train, riding on a track! From time to time I do run on a race track the Deo Volente.

Let's return to my tips to having a good night's sleep:

First: The more closely I conform to the true image of God, Jesus Christ, the freer I become and the more peace I have.

Second: Look at the selfie directly above (I used a tri-pod) and see the other attempt that helps a little. It is an EYE MASK! Maybe the mask AND a memory foam mattress will improve things. We'll soon see.

Another thing for which I am grateful: Real freedom, which I find in obedience and servant hood to my Savior Jesus Christ. This 2012, 2-month blog is now closing, with my one and only somewhat lengthy Bible verse dramatically captured in this picture randomly posted on Facebook. If Ron reads this, thanks for a perfect pictorial finale...


Do you give the horse his strength
or clothe his neck with a flowing mane?
...He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing;
...In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground;
he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds (Job 39:19 & 24).
 
Good night, sleep tight, and Happy New Year... Deo Volente!

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

I CAN'T WAIT! (Part II) 12-25-2012


This is a somehwhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins

Merry Christmas! I CAN'T WAIT until tomorrow to post, so here we go! This picture of our 2010 Christmas gift is a special treasure, and he continues to be an energetic joy!

Now to continue with the agonizing WAIT for my 2006 cancer surgery and lymph node report...

At times, I feel hopeless. Night-time, terror-filled hours are few, but I face them. (I confess that Benedryl zonked me out once or twice). Having a calming drink to lighten my worries and numb away hopeless feelings would have been harmless, right? Why not opt for the path of least resistance? I have free-will after all.

The little choices I make, day-by-day, month-by-month, year-by-year create today's me. One decision paves the way for the next, and my children are watching. I am the sum total of all of my seemingly unimportant, little decisions. My dehydrated body forces me... to face each day, sober... and maybe it encourages life-creating, critical thinking.

How do I spell relief? CANCER-FREE SENTINEL NODE. Oh, what a relief it is to hear the resounding words from my skilled surgeon: Tests on your sentinel node show no signs of cancer.

Woo hoo and giddy up! Cartwheels and dancing are appropriate responses, but, oh my... the arms don't want to raise, the drains in my chest are awkward and disgusting; so, for a long while, dancing will be only in my dreams. 

Each day I am pregnant with promise and with hope, especially during the Christmas season (because of my grand baby's specially-timed birth). My hope is in a special Baby Boy, born in a humble stable, placed in an ordinary manger. A Heavenly choir of angels and a bright, sparkly, shining star announced His seemingly ordinary birth.

The Jews WAITED and WAITED, for generations, to see their Savior, but they missed His birth and challenged His credibility. Lowly shepherds on nearby hills FREELY chose to travel to the newborn. Richly-robed wise men were compelled, and FREELY traveled, long distances, to see the special child. No one was forced. Today, I freely choose to accept Him as my Savior, and I earnestly hope for His return.

Hope versus hopelessness. It is a minute-by-minute choice. This week I choose to:

1) Remember special births: Jesus' [& my grandson's]...
2) Practice the presence of Jesus; and...
3) WAIT... for His return.

Another thing for which I am grateful: The precious Baby Jesus. Merry Christmas!

Just one more post and this blogging commitment will be history. Sunday, December 30th closes out this 2-month focus on personal freedom... Deo Volente.

Friday, December 21, 2012

I CAN'T WAIT! 12-21-2012


  This is a somehwhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins

 No more counting down to 12/21/12. In many parts of the world the 21st is history. Now it is time to think about 12/22/2012. We celebrate my grandson's second birthday, and I'm glad the world isn't ending! We have special plans which include a lighted backyard bench and a birthday video. I CAN'T WAIT! 

This entry should be posted on the 23rd, on Sunday, but I am early... because... I CAN'T WAIT!!

We were WAITING just 2 years ago for our Christmas baby's birth. During the months leading up to December I posted Facebook pictures of the size of the fetus at weeks 8, 9, 10 and so on. Grandchild #1 was due on December 19th, and I couldn't wait to meet the little life my daughter was incubating; waiting to touch and count his 10 precious fingers and toes. 

Maybe I was (and still am) grandchild-consumed because I am grateful to even be alive after staring death in the face and surviving. In 2006 I was diagnosed with stage 2, grade 3 aggressive breast cancer. After prayers, surgery, chemo, and medications, I see every special and wonder-filled moment as a bonus gift.

We arrive to the snowy, slick 2010 Chicago suburbs late on December 20th, Momma's spirits are anything but cheery after doctor's orders of: No inducement for another week.

She is ready to pop. So, to distract her, of course we head to the Gap; and fortunately we are all spared slipping on the black ice that had surprised a few shoppers just ahead of us! Just 17 hours later labor begins, and 7 hours after that, we energetically welcome our healthy, 7 lb. 11 oz. Christmas gift.

Christmas and waiting go hand-in-hand. I guess that is part of the fun. Traditions create the festive drama. Dad was not a handyman; but somehow, for Mom, he outlined our home's roof with lights. We drove miles and miles to cut down a live tree; ethereal Mom always selected the saddest, most crooked trees. Wires were painstakingly threaded through curtain rods and wrapped around the skinny, upper tree trunk to make it stand up. 

Creative Mom hand-sewed an advent calendar for the 6 of us to take turns placing tiny, hand-made ornaments onto. Treasures like that accentuated the 25-day WAIT. On Christmas Eve, I lay in bed, eyes wide open, earnestly waiting for the midnight "Ho, ho, ho" from Dad for the mad dash to see our gifts. Mom knew that none of us would sleep a wink if they saved gift-opening time until morning.

WAITING... for Christmas and for babies... are special and hope-filled times; WAITING... for my 2006 cancer surgery was not. I would have done almost anything to numb my thoughts as I waited endless days AND a few scary nights for surgery:  Is cancer spreading to other parts of my body through my lymph nodes? 

That question would be answered post-surgery; and it seems appropriate to WAIT, until Part II, to share my surgery results...

Another thing for which I am grateful: Hope-filled holidays.

Just two more posts and this commitment will be fulfilled. I will be FREE of this two-blog-a-week commitment! Part II of this post is planned for Wednesday, December 26th, but might come earlier, if I CAN'T WAIT... Deo Volente.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

1 day & counting til 12-21-12

1 day & counting
 

Colossians 2:17...
       ho, ho, hold your horses! what did mrs. claus say when santa asked about the weather? "it looks like rein, deer!!!"

      'twas one day before friday and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

      the stockings were hung by the chimney with care with hopes that Christmas would bring great cheer.

      i sprang from my bed, with 12-21 growing near, to the front window i head. the wind, oh the wind did i dread.

      when what to my wandering eyes should appear; of course no miniature sleigh, just one front yard wire deer... and not rain, but flurries of light snow, snow, snow!

      with endless to-dos and treats to prepare, i knew in a moment i need more than st. nick!

      i need the substance behind the shadows... invisible, real, and lasting! i need eternal things mentioned in my post: "4 days & counting..." tomorrow is THE day!! 

     this world will forever last; 12-21-12 will pass... but wouldn't this be a perfect time to peruse the harbinger, humbly reflect, and if, say, one doesn't regularly attend church or mass... resolve to? just sayin'....

     my "12-21-12" plans include a late-night post...
 
 

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

JUST a False Alarm! 12-19-2012

This is a somewhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins


I claim the middle RED stocking
I hope that 12-21-12 isn't ringing alarms for anyone; but, speaking of alarms...

I wrote this post one very brisk morning, and on that particular day, somewhere in the back of my mind I heard sirens. My writing-focused mind barely registered the noise.

The sirens intensify as I am immersed in my galaxy. My awareness heightens and I realize: I hear sirens, they are really loud, and it sounds like they are right across the street... GET UP and look out the window!!

Sure enough, there are two large fire trucks across the street in front of my neighbor's house. After donning my warm puffer vest, I head across the street towards the trucks to chat with my know-it-all, retired neighbor. He is already in the thick of the action: Joe, what's going on? 

Joe replies: Someone called in about our neighbor's roof ...the caller thought the roof was melting... like a fire is in the attic.

As the firemen walk the steep roof to investigate, a third truck arrives; they determine that what the caller actually saw was evaporating steam rising from the the frost-covered roof that looked like smoke. It takes three fire trucks and six firemen to determine...

... it is JUST a false alarm, which created sirens, three loud trucks, heightened senses, and even a required report.

...my senses were heightened every Christmas Eve as a child. Our family tradition was to attend a Christmas Eve service, eat goodies, and at bedtime anxiously listen for the rustling of papers or other noises as "Santa" prepared our gifts downstairs.

We waited forever, and all of those sweets and goodies made it feel like the Matrix "bug" was being sucked out of my stomach... in other words, my senses were really heightened. Normally around midnight, as I lie WIDE awake, Dad's, Ho, ho, ho! reverberated up the stairwell.

Immediately we 6 energetic children lurch from our beds to the living room. A stocking lay on each child's gift pile, so I know to head for the chair or couch with my stocking... (which I think was the red one). One year I received a combo radio/cassette tape player; that was cool. I loved Christmas.

As I look through my gifts, out of the corner of my eye I notice Dad, gulping a can of beer and Mom's concern. I experience sirens, bells, and whistles because... that look is coming onto his face, including his far-away eyes, slumped posture, and rubbery lips. He enters another galaxy, so to speak.

I approach Dad with one of my Santa gifts, and maybe ask him if he likes his gifts (anything to distract him from drinking); he smiles and we chat; I want him to be happy. I return to my gift chair; I failed... as he opens another beer can. I so want him to stop, because I know he has all of those scary signs.

I can't remember if chaos occurred that particular night... after we went to bed. Sometimes all of the signs appeared, but thankfully led to nothing. Nonetheless, figurative sirens rang, fire trucks arrived, and my mind anticipated the worst. It was unpredictable and random. I had no way of knowing whether it would be the real deal, or ... JUST a false alarm, storing another report in my memory banks.

I recently learned a few of the following less-known facts about alcohol. In, say, Bible-times the grape harvest occurred one time a year, and those grapes needed to last until the next year. Thus, the strength of alcohol was considerably watered down. It was common to have 20 parts water to 1 part wine. It was only on special occasions they might mix just 8 parts or 3 parts water to 1 part wine.

Comparing the alcohol content in today's average 2 glasses of martinis could equal drinking up to 21 glasses of Bible-time wine! Drinkers today quickly ingest considerably more alcohol, with just one glass.

More facts include: 1) During 2005-2010, 50 percent of Americans replied on a survey that they know someone (a family member or friend) who abuses alcohol or drugs. 2) During that same time frame, 52 percent of American 8th-graders say they have tasted alcohol.

Click the following link to a January 2013 CDC report with some stunning data: * Women who binge drink are potentially more susceptible to cancer, liver problems & brain damage  *  

FREELY digest these facts with no fear of being Matrix "bugged." Wishing you joyous, safe, happy-memorable celebrations as we approach Christmas 2012 and the New Year. 

Another thing for which I am grateful: My watchful neighbors

12-21-12's prophecies are JUST false alarms; the world will not end. My posts for tomorrow and Sunday are ready, and I CAN'T WAIT to post them!

Feel FREE to click the following link for a "refreshing" Christmas video: Unto Us...

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

3 days & counting til 12-21-12

3 days & counting



2 Chronicles 7:14
      i'm still thinking about shadows, my topic from yesterday's post. this picture shows my husband's and my very long shadows on a late-day walk that reminds me of the twin towers.

     my friend and i were recently discussing a book's intriguing 9/11 premise, and i want to share a modified review borrowed from amazon:

     in light of current events, the harbinger, by jonathan cahn is mesmerizing and fascinating. if you're not familiar with "harbinger," the term means:
 
anything that foreshadows a future event; omen; sign:
frost is a harbinger of winter (Dictionary.com).

      this book is an eye opener and a wake-up call as it illuminates america's response to, and its underlying message post-9/11. it is presented in a narrative fashion, and demonstrates the ties between the destruction of ancient Israel and america.

     anyone searching for answers in the midst of the chaos, unrest, and fear will find a glimmer of hope as they read this book.

     friday is the day... 12-21-12... i plan to be here tomorrow...

Monday, December 17, 2012

4 days & counting til 12-21-12

4 days & counting

colossians 2:17...
      i molded this Christmas sandman years ago on a cancun beach. his blue bottle cap hat and shell buttons created a Christmas feel even on that sunny, sandy december 25th walk. high tide waves soon swept away my yuletide sculpture; all that remains of him is this picture and a short video.

      Christmas time is full of celebrations, food, people, gift-buying and giving, and overall busyness. all of these activities and "things" can help connect us to the holiday spirit and to meaning... but they eventually fade or disappear, like my sandman. 

      notice the shadow behind mr. sandman? it is my husband's large shadow. he did return home with me from the beach, and 3 years later, i'm so glad he is still with me.

      even though my husband plans to be with me until we are old and gray... he will not be with me on this earth forever. i don't wish to think about that, but instead think about the FOREVER substance. it is behind the shadows; it is invisible; it is real; and it is lasting.

      as my countdown continues to 12-21-12... i trust you will enjoy a 4-minute video that goes behind the shadows...
   
     feel FREE to click here for your video-viewing enjoyment:  *The "WAY" to the FOREVER Substance behind the Shadows* 

     ¯time keeps on tickin' tickin' tickin' into the future¯ and my blogging commitment will keep me postin' postin', postin'... i plan to be here tomorrow, to continue the countdown.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

CHIPMUNK! 12-16-2012

This is a somewhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins
 
Eagle? or Hawk?
I am grateful for positive second chances. Many times they are earnestly needed as well as undeserved. Undoubtedly, the New Town, Connecticut killer would want a second chance, but for him it is too late, and we pray for the survivors.

Second chances sometimes happen with photography. The other day I saw the perfect picture. It was a far-away, large, perched bird in my neighbor's backyard tree, two fenced yards away.

That looks like an eagle!

I run for my camera to take a few shots from my back porch. The picture posted is mega-cropped and blurry, and an important feature is hidden.

I decide to hop into the car and head to my neighbor's driveway. The bird is STILL there! I park, step out, fiddle with the camera, anxiously push the on button, and... nothing. The battery is dead! No way! I can't believe it! Argh! Why am I even wasting my time with this?

For some reason I speed home for my back-up camera hoping the bird doesn't fly away. After a hop, skip, and a few jumps I return to my neighbor's driveway; the camera turns on [check], the bird is still perched on the neighbor's branch [check], and he is so posing for me [check]. Click, click, click!

Did the second-chance shot, from a different angle, reveal an eagle or just a hawk?

That second chance leads me to attempt writing a brief fiction story, about second chances and questionable choices. This story begins back in the mid-1940s, after World War II.

Fritz appears fidgety and anxious. As he rides the train, he has lots of time, and his thoughts are chugging. I can't believe I did it! After 20 long years of being married to Harriett, with her never-ending requests and nagging... it is over! I am a FREE man! Yes, sir! No more of Harriett's hoity-toity formal functions and money-spending to worry about.

I am a good and reputable person, and I will financially support my three children. I don't need God, God, or GOD for that matter, #@&%  #%!!!!  I need Matilda... ahhh, she is so unlike Harriett; she appreciates me. She is simple, and she will be frugal too. I have a second chance at happiness!!

One of Fritz's concerns is leaving his older brother, Felix. Poor Felix didn't have the same advantages as Fritz. As children, their Father, Dr. Felix Weinhauser, regularly met in wine cellars with his buddies. Inebriated Dr. W. philosophized about German atrocities, which diverted his thoughts from the anger felt from the tragic deaths of 7 of his 9 children from childhood illnesses. What a failed doctor I am!!!

One evening, after enjoying a few drinks, Dr. W. did something that forever handicapped his namesake, Felix. Rumor has it he lost his temper with youthful Felix... and impulsively pushed him, and he fell down a flight of stairs. Felix will never be able to hold a job. He's mentally challenged. Fritz, on the other hand, was affected differently. He wisely guarded his emotions, so Father would never have reason to hurt him.

The other person on Fritz's mind is Dara. Dara is his oldest daughter. "Sweet" 16 Dara is quite the beauty. She has a trained singing voice and loves to ride horses. Dara needs to go to college to find an upstanding man. She is such a quiet teenager, but, ohhh her temper; she certainly displayed it the other day towards me. Her fury was a replay of poor Felix's run-in with Father. But I didn't react like Father did. I can't risk re-playing that scenario! Everything will be better once I leave; she will get over all of this. She likes photography and is creative, so college will be good for her. I need plenty of finances, to help pay for her to go to a good college in 1 1/2 years... 

Years ago, attending college is what saved financially-struggling Fritz. Before marrying Harriett, while attending college, German Fritz placed vending machines around campus to fund his schooling. It was brilliant! And then, with his business degree and $500 borrowed from his hard-working, washer-woman Mother, he created a business with a partner... the war breaking out helped him to become a successful businessman earning hand-over-fist money. Fritz thinks about his employees too. He treated them well, with company parties and special gifts. They will be fine, too.

Fortunately, in Florida I can still make money AND run my business, long distance.  A post office box will be needed for business purposes, so I might as well live near the post office.... No need for Matilda to see anything about my finances. She'll want to spend it like Harriett did! My manager/brother-in-law (Harriett's brother) will make sure the business runs well. I have taken good care of him over the years. Even when I can trust no one else (like my former, shady business partner who ran off with the profits), I can trust Charles. I will have enough money to help Felix AND my children AND my wife-to-be, who is with child. Ah, yes. Everything will be just fine

Fritz's thoughts return to his daughter's outburst the other day... Dara was certainly fuming when she confronted me the other day: "Is it true about you and the maid?... I can't believe it!!! How could you? At school I will be humiliated! Why don't you just move away with her and leave us!"

Dara then stomped out of the room. She ordered me to leave, after all. I need to flee from every one and every thing. It makes so much sense for their sake and mine...  [Boing! Please excuse this writer's "Aha" moments]  I can have my cake and eat it too, by financially supporting my three children from long distance. Harriett is all they need. I will be away from perfectionist Harriett; and I will be with Matilda and our new child. Everyone will be happier this way.

Five years later for Dara's small, backyard wedding ceremony, Fritz was noticeably absent. Bitter Harriett believed Fritz's presence would resurface the gossipy rumors and overshadow Dara's happy day; divorce in their 1940s social circle was humiliating... but Fritz's "elopement" stoked the fire, turning humiliation into scandal. Harriett's logic made sense. [Boing! Boing!]

Dara saw her Father only once, about 20 years later, only after Dara's brother's suicide.

Dara guards her emotional "voice," never wanting to repeat her monumental teenage outburst. She plans to have a peaceful marriage with no nagging, and her children will be happy. Abandoned Dara's erroneous logic is that her "voice," as well as her Mother's perfectionism, pushed Father away... and she believes Father rejected her [Boing! Boing! Boing!]... 

I originally wrote this story to show that a second chance for Fritz didn't equal happiness for all; but, as I focused more closely, Fritz became more human to me. I believe he really cared about his children, despite his unwise decision. I received an altogether different angle... perspective... or message... about flawed logic.

To confuse you even more... let's return to my introductory story. Is the bird in my picture an eagle or a hawk? My logical mind said: I see a curved beak, and the bird is large, therefore it is an eagle.

My other picture (the second-chance shot) provides critical data and the all-important chest... with white feathers. The bird is actually a... VERY LARGE... hawk.

My fictional story about Fritz is closely based on events in Mom's family history with the names changed. "Dr. Weinhauser" is my great-grandfather, and "Fritz" is his son (my Grandfather). Mom never understood Dad "Fritz's" tragic childhood, losing so many siblings as well as his brother. The generational need for "voice" is clear for me:

*Great-Grandfather Felix imbibed his tragedies away closing his "voice" & hurting everyone.
*Grandfather Fritz closed his "voice" and physically ran away from his family.
*Mom closed her "voice" and Dad imbibed away his suspicion and worries.

This link in three generations seems to parallel the unexpected link I learned in my post, "The Why I Do the Things I Do"... revealing three modes of transportation and an interesting outcome. Current events often times have their roots in the past.

The CRITICAL error in Mom's logic is: she missed the hidden "white feathers" clue:
...Mom's mysterious, quiet, attractive ways + her Father's history of cheating...
= Suspicion! Dad's flawed logic believed Mom cheated on him in their "voice-less" marriage
Dad's legalistic upbringing led to his 20s belief: "Mother's #@&% religion is irrelevant."
[Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing!... Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing!]
 
Logic is only correct when it is based on accurate assumptions. My human logic says, God has set me FREE; my free-will can choose to do any legal thing I please. But the "White Feathers" component for me is: I must learn my "voice." My heritage will not allow me to have my cake and eat it too. Alcoholism, tragedy, and suicide reside too close to my home. 

Warning! Read ONLY if you're ready for some spirited logic: My sober free-will endeavors to trust God's all-knowing logic as I study His Word. One of my basic assumptions is that God loves me and He allows events to happen; they can be for my good; and if I can't see the good, there might be the bigger-picture good... of trust. I tactfully need to face my painful events head-on and my depression. I trust Him, and He colors my thoughts, and maybe even the writings in this blog.

The lyrics to the old song, ¯Only You¯ seem to Boing, particularly after Connecticut's stories of goodness and heroism in response to one person's senseless, illogical, tragic act:

¯Only You
Can make this world seem right
Only You
Can make the darkness bright
Only You and You alone
Can thrill me like You do
And fill my heart with love for only You


Only You
Can make this change in me
For it's true
You are my destiny
When You hold my hand, I understand
The magic that you do
You're my dream come true
My one, my one and only YOU...
¯
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/t/the_platters/only_you.html ]

You may not have noticed this post's title, but I was hoping you would. I needed your logic... to keep you reading through this never-ending post and wonder where the wingo I would mention the title. For those of you who did endure and do feel teased, I won't disappoint you any longer. I can weave this post's critter into the thing for which I am grateful: Chipmunk crafting, with my friend!

Please join my daily posts counting down to 12-21-12, and Wednesday, December 19th's "alarming" post.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

6 days & counting til 12-21-12

6 days & counting

      snap, spontaneous, selfish, self-centered, insane, sinister, savage, strike, strange...

     solemn, sober, serious, sad, senseless, sooo wrong...

      school staff, sacrifice, selfless, strong, strategic, shock, stun, survivors, sensitive, unsettled, scary, scream, shriek...

      senile, unstable, showy, sordid, slay, slaughter, school, safety, security, shooting, Sandy Hook...

     segue...     solitary, single, sole, soul, shackle, slave, sin.

     sunday's post.

Friday, December 14, 2012

7 days & counting til 12-21-12

7 days & counting

        i am ever grateful for the free-will to change my mind. blog spot is accommodating like that; it lets me publish a post, and i can update that post throughout the day and forever. today's comic was in yesterday's post; i changed my mind and, voila, it resurfaces today.

      hostess twinkies have been around forever, but are now on the RIP list. i remember as a child, with allowance money burning a hole in my pocket, riding my bike to the neighborhood grocery store and buying two cellophane twinkie packages with two goodies in a package. rather than riding home to five mooching siblings, i sat on the bench in front of the store gulping down one, and then another, until four of those sugary sponges were inhaled in one sitting! i was sick to my stomach and never ate them again.
      
      a new freedom for which this blogger is investigating: my sister's minimalist approach to capital letters. it is freeing, yet challenging because i forget and have to un-capitalize words i capitalized; and spell-check yells at me with words highlighted that i chose to not capitalize. this is either a good brain exercise for this former assistant editor or the beginning of a bad habit. hopefully it isn't disturbing any oc-readers, and it is only until the world ends...

Thursday, December 13, 2012

8 days & counting til 12-21-12

8 days & counting
 

        many, many, many, many 12-12-12 babies were born throughout the world. some mothers had specially-scheduled 12-12-12 deliveries, believing it to be a lucky day. many, many, many, many weddings also occurred on 12-12-12.  ...it was a happy day indeed, for so many families!

       this picture was on my Facebook wall, so I couldn't help but share a very appropriate cake from 12-12-12...


      ....and I wonder, how many people announced on 12-12-12 that they we will be grandparents, for the second time... we've been waiting since before Thanksgiving to share, and we received the green light just yesterday. the booming due date is the 4th of July. a big thanks to my daughter for accidentally coinciding her due date with America's freedom day. in my blogging mind, she is placing some dramatic exclamation points on the theme of freedom and free-will!!

      ...embracing each day's goodness as I continue the countdown...

      ...to 12-21-12...


Wednesday, December 12, 2012

12-12-12

My blog is somewhat progressive. Feel FREE to begin reading with my October 31st post

Good morning! Today's triple-12 date is fun. It is early morning, but already one of my Facebook friends posted her alarm clock's 12-12-12 date (she lives in Germany), another proclaimed that today is National Mic Check Day (testing one, two... one, two... one, two). So, I posted to Facebook "Happy Triple-Twelve Day" with an un-retouched photo from last year showing XII in the sky.

There are doomsday predictions for 12-21-12... The Mayan Calendar ends on that date, so people interpret from that the worst. According to "them" we have just 10 days to live (including today), so I'll make the most of those days! One of the ways I will do that is to make a commitment within a commitment, to post each day until 12-21-12, just for kicks. These extra posts will have different formatting. We'll see what tomorrow's looks like... tomorrow. It might be just a picture, or a few words, or... I don't know.

I've been blogging just since 10-31-12, so this is a new experience for me. I committed to post two times a week for two months; and so far, so good. I have exposed my writing and my thoughts to the world with, say, 10 loyal followers from my family and Facebook land.

Since talk of doomsday is in the air, I apologize that I'm doing it again; I have another "Daisy Downer" news article. It shares of a father accused of killing his 3-year-old son in an Ozarks car wreck, and it helps me segue to a critical point about free-will. Here is the newspaper story:
 
An arrest has been made following a Tuesday afternoon crash... that killed a 3-year-old boy... [the 33-year-old driver] was arrested by the Missouri Highway Patrol for his involvement in the wreck...on suspicion of involuntary manslaughter...investigators believe that alcohol might have been involved...[the driver] has a prior conviction for driving while intoxicated on his record...[he] is the father of the boy who died in a crash...[the driver] lost control of the Toyota and slid into the path of a westbound Ford Explorer...[the 3-year-old]... in the Toyota was killed.
 
My attention was drawn to this accident because vehicles were diverted for hours; we are thankful our friends were one of the diverted cars rather than one of the three cars in the accident... Our friends did not have to experience a child being killed. Surviving victims were in a Ford Explorer and also in a third vehicle involved in the accident (carrying a 4-year-old and an infant). All survived but the son of the suspected drunk driver.

Over the past 10 years our friends have experienced keenly stressful times, and we have observed their life choices. Similar to the Ford Explorer as well as the third vehicle in the news story, they were figuratively and innocently hit and hit again with enormous challenges. With the support of others, they faced struggles head-on. They are more than survivors; their family is alive and they are well, and so is the next generation.

I wonder about this Ozarks driver's free-will and its effect on the next generation. Are alcohol's benefits compelling enough to risk: 1) possibly becoming an alcoholic, AND  2) literally killing his next generation?
 
The same friends I mentioned above knew my Dad, after his alcoholic years. They joked with him about HIS Chicago White Sox and have fond memories of him. I'm glad they knew him then, because he was witty and fun. And he was a wonderful Grandpa! My friends also prayed with Dad in his hour of crisis when Mom tragically died. They never knew his "other" side... from which I and my younger siblings are injured survivors. My family never truly faced our parent's issues head-on, let alone facing each of our own issues. I am now, head-on, facing them in this blog.

In December's "I MESSED UP!" post, I share my concern about risk to reputation. With each and every post I think about family reputation. I love my parents, but IF they could send a message in the clouds, I hope they are writing "neigh" to worrying about reputation, because of the critical bigger picture which I will explain in Sunday's post titled "Chipmunk."

That Ozarks Dad is accused of killing his 3-year-old. He is now a bond slave to the authorities and mourns his losses. He is in jail and will never see his child again; and, for the last many days, has had little freedom.
 
Another thing for which I am grateful: It is just 12 days, plus 1 more day, until Christmas. 
 
FYI - I may not post to Facebook again due to sensitive topics I discuss. Find me if you wish. I plan to be here again, tomorrow...  Deo Volente.
 
 

Sunday, December 9, 2012

The Love Bubble 12-9-2012


This is a somewhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins
 
This is a picture of my bubbly, almost 2-year-old, grandson. His parents are raising him under their protective bubble. He is active; and, of course, this grandma adores his exploring, resourceful, enchanting nature.

I apologize that today's post begins with a "Debbie Downer" article. As I write about my childhood home, I strive to balance between helping you understand my home from a respectful, grown-up perspective, yet experiencing it using child-like memory. I earnestly seek to use humor, but some things are not funny. I will try to limit heavy posts like this to just one or two.

I share the following recent news report because in it we see a distinct paradox. This story is about a 6-hour, spirited, bubbly wedding celebration that suddenly turns sour:

Media reports say a Brazilian bridegroom bled to death at his wedding reception when he tripped and fell on an empty glass of beer...the freak accident occurred 6 hours after...[the groom] tied the knot... [Groom] Maciel was dancing with one of the bridesmaids when he lost his balance and fell to the ground, shattering the glass he was carrying in his left pants pocket...a piece of glass severed his femoral vein, causing a massive loss of blood.

Blissful celebration turns to nightmare. The wedding's  bubbly paradox portrays how I feel about my home, with Dad's "fall" into bubbly alcoholism. My parents maneuvered through 14 years of job changes, two house moves, five child births, infant spinal meningitis, and welcoming child number six...then the bliss seemed to... SUDDENLY... and inexplicably shatter. 


When I was just 6, my invincible, fun-loving, sensitive yet strong... Daddy... emotionally abandoned me.

Dad was the high-strung, responsible, sole breadwinner of the family who tended to worry; and from time to time, he worried a lot and drank a lot. I, too, worried... about him, for what seemed like a lifetime. Why did I worry about him? Why did I become the parent? Why did it take 11 years for our home to finally settle down? 

In High School, during the last half of my senior year, my parents separated for 6 months. Mom was in hiding, hours away with my younger sisters; I would have been with her, but I pleaded to live with my best friend... At graduation I don't recall family members attending to support me. Surely Dad was somewhere in the audience (I know that Mom was not); memories are blurred, but there are no graduation pictures of me with family; just one of me with my friend in front of her home, and another, accepting my diploma.

Dad succumbed to sobriety and to God at age 50; that is when health issues strongly surfaced for him. Alcohol had taken a toll on his body, and worry intensified symptoms. Because of that, bringing up sensitive, past issues was ignored; and in those days, we didn't even know the importance of it. Just forget it! Thus, we pretended those 11 nightmare years never happened. Dad's blissful motto was: Deny the past and use "agreeable voices" lest our "love bubble" burst; Mom's motto continued to be: Shelter Dad from worry.

The only way I know to describe my response to our alcoholic home is that I existed, kind of in my own autrovert bubble, depressed some days, almost mechanical and train-like. In my 50s, after 35 years of forced sobriety (see my post "Hic, Hiccup!") I am FINALLY beginning to see the ways I am like Dad, and MY dysfunctional quirks.

A radio speaker shared his grandmother's candid feelings about her son-in-law: Your Father would be a wonderful man... if only he were different!!!" (Ha! This is an oh so honest, human longing!)

I'm grateful to begin understanding Dad a little better. I wish that Mom, Dad, and I could be together for a while... and just say nothing... to enjoy each other's company. Then, maybe we would take a long walk together and talk about why, with no blaming. Then maybe I would weep, and be the vulnerable one, and they would console me and cheer me on. Then I could share about how fallible I am. And then, finally, we could laugh together playing Scrabble and watching my funny Talk Show, and we could dance together and have fun... I particularly like the dancing thought! Through blogging, some of these "Ethereal Edith" dreams are being fulfilled.

As the bubble is bursting, there is one thing I know for certain: My free-will must be compared to a living, breathing, spirited animal with its own quirky, complicated gait. This filly needs a caring Groomer, a guiding Rider, and a patient and understanding Trainer.

Another thing for which I am grateful: My bubbly grandson.

On Wednesday, 12-12-12, I will share another news item as we round the track. In later December posts, I plan to weave in tidbits of ideas from the article that prompted my 2-month, consuming, free-fall blog. Thanks so much to anyone in the blogosphere who might be reading... Deo Volente.