Sick

The world of retail is not a Monday through Friday, 9-5 world. I get two days off each week, but they are not in a row. And I don't get weekends off. Except both of those things came together this weekend, and at just the right time. I had yesterday off and I have today off. Friday afternoon my throat started to feel scratchy and dry, and I have a cold. Aren't our bodies amazing? All that extra mucus production is because my body is getting rid of those nasty germs in the quickest, most efficient way. I am thankful for my wonderful body and how it gets me around and takes care of me.

These two days off have me reflecting on being sick. It's not something that happens often. I am blessed with extraordinarily good health. What I have now is just the common cold. But it has been wonderful to have two days off. Days where I can just give myself a rest and take care of myself. I think I would probably be dragging myself to work had I not these days off. That has always been my standard operating procedure. Just persevere. Now there have been times in my life where I just didn't have a paid sick day, so I would tell myself I had to have the money. When I was self-employed, if I didn't work there was no one else to do it. Then there were the times where I was so indispensable (or so I thought) that I needed to be there. I didn't want to make life difficult for my coworkers. Now while I believe it is inconsiderate of other people to be out and about when we're contagious, I have to wonder what my motivation really was.

Was it some kind of pride, to not take some down time when I wasn't feeling well? I used to suffer from migraines, and there would be days I would have them and never even mention to anyone that I had one. Now I don't like whining and I don't like to be a whiner, but I wonder why I wouldn't even mention in a matter-of-fact way that I wasn't feeling my best?

What makes it even stranger is that if you were sick, I would be fussing all around, asking if you needed anything, encouraging you to stay home from work, plumping up your pillows and inviting you to sleep.

Maybe it's all part of the process of loving ourselves as much as we love other people, of showing the same tender, loving care to ourselves that we extend to others. I know I certainly appreciate and am taking advantage of this weekend. This time off when I can just slow down, take care of myself and get better.

You'll have to excuse me now. It's time for my morning nap.

Susan

More

Lately it has occurred to me that sometimes I think really small. Is it to manage expectations and not be disappointed? With some extra time between semesters, I have been working more than usual on my novel. I am not churning out page after page, but I am making some important refinements with my characters. When I work on my novel, I think big. Very big. It takes some very big thinking to believe that I will have a completed book some day, that after some more editing and rework, will be in the hands of people who will enjoy it. I go to the public library and see all the books there with the names of the authors, and I know that one day my name will be among them. I walk into a book store and see my book and my name there. I walk into a coffee shop and see people reading on their Kindles and think that one day they will be reading what I write. Then I think oh my gosh, am I arrogant to think that? Maybe I should just skitter back and be really small and not so braggy or something. Working on my novel stretches me, not just because it challenges me as a writer in ways that this blog does not, but because it makes me think big.

I don't want to be famous or well known. I think that would just mostly be annoying. I love the creative process. And I think I have something to say. I think my characters are fascinating, and while I don't even have the storyline completely fleshed out yet, I think my book is going to be great.

It is almost like I have to write, or I will explode. Not long ago, the writer of a blog I read occasionally said her husband threatened to make her quit blogging, and I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I can't even begin to wrap my head around how I would feel if I couldn't blog anymore. I have been bouncing around the idea of starting another blog, and making it more of a private thing so I could really let loose and write everything I want to write. Dump out my brain and empty my heart and spill my guts all over the place. Then I think, how will I do that? How will I work on my novel, write two blogs, work my full-time job and be a full-time student? That kind of thinking is small, isn't it? It limits me.

Writing used to take a lot out of me, and now it seems to feed me and energize me. I get so much more out of it than I put in. So I am going to continue to think big, with my writing and with my life in general. I can be more, if I want to be. I can have more, if I want it.

And how about you? Are you a small thinker like I am sometimes? Are there areas in your life where you could think bigger? I believe there is always more than I think or believe or know. For me. And for you, too.

The Pooh books are written by A. A. Milne.

Susan

Take My Heart

"Rescue Me" is one of the best songs ever. I had always thought it was sung by Aretha Franklin. Not so. Recently Fontella Bass died at the age of 72, and she was the artist who sang this amazing song. She also wrote it, along with Raynard Miner and Carl William Smith. So I give you this clip of the late, great and not at all well known Miss Bass. I love her outfit, by the way.

Susan

Parenthood

Today is my older son's birthday. Thirty-two years ago, he came to this planet. I knew his biological mother. My ex-husband and his first wife adopted him when he was a baby, and years later I became stepmother to him and his younger brother. His brother is the biological child of my ex-husband and his first wife. I was the mom in their home, but I encouraged and supported their relationship with their "real" mother. I wanted them to feel wanted and loved by her, and they do. And my older son met his birth mother when he was a teenager. Are you confused yet?

I was thirty-three when I married. I was thrilled to have a ready made family, my husband and his two wonderful boys. I never did have a "baby of my own," as some people phrase it, but I never have felt like I missed out on anything. I don't know how I could love anyone any more than I love those two guys, who are now adult men. They are my greatest blessings. My greatest joys. It was my honor and my privilege to help raise them, and believe me when I say I have learned way more from them than they learned from me.

The president of Russia is threatening to forbid Americans from adopting children in Russian orphanages. Certainly those children deserve loving parents, but why not look in our own backyard? There are currently around 70,000 children in foster care in the United States who are eligible to be adopted, meaning that their biological parents' rights have been terminated. They are all good to go, ready to be a part of a forever family.

Yet the average stay in foster care for a child is three years, and many of them stay in foster care until they are 18 and age out of the system. Is the reason these kids are not being adopted because they are not babies and toddlers? Is that why prospective parents who are affluent enough to do it pursue foreign adoptions; to adopt a baby? As a child grows older, the chances of him being adopted lessen. Yet older kids need loving parents, too. Many of them have challenges, emotionally and physically and mentally, but maybe their biggest challenge is not having a place they truly belong, with people who will love them forever and ever.

I wish the people who can't have "babies of their own" could step outside their comfort zone enough to experience all the rewards I experienced with "my" sons. I wish they would consider adopting older kids, and not just because of what they could give the kids. But for what these kids could give to them.

Family is not limited to genetic material or DNA. The capacity for love in the human heart transcends who we are at a biological level. It is way more than that. And older kids are every bit as lovable and wonderful as those tiny little infants.

On Christmas day, I spent time with my two sons and was blown away all over again with how much they have enriched my life, and I thought my heart would burst with love for them. And to think that some people miss out on that. It makes me sad. For the kids who need parents. And for the adults who desperately need kids.

Susan

Beanies and Duct Tape

Earlier this month I noticed that I was eighteen posts away from my 500th. I decided that by the end of year, I would get to 500 posts. This is it. It also is my Christmas post, which was not at all planned. But it's Christmas Eve, so there you have it. I wanted it to be meaningful. Angels and shepherds. Coffee and pumpkin pie. Frankincense and myrrh. That sort of thing.

Tomorrow I will be visiting two different homes, and I am not the kind of guest who shows up empty handed. I had not gotten anything to take, then a couple of days ago I received a Trader Joe's gift card from a friend. The amount is enough to cover the cost of two bottles of good wine, and both my hosts love wine.

I would usually avoid the crowds at the grocery store on Christmas Eve, but after work I stopped at Trader Joe's. A cashier had bows all over her head. And I mean All Over Her Head. They were the premade, adhesive backed bows. Inexpensive ones sold at the discount stores. Customers were taking pictures of her, and one asked her how she made her amazing hat. She said, "It's just a beanie and duct tape."

When I paid for my wine, I told her I loved her hat. She looked at me, that look I often get when people are deciding whether to tell me a personal story. I must have that kind of face, because complete strangers confide in me. She told me her mother died seventeen years ago at Christmas time, and as she was cleaning out her house she found a bag of old bows her mother had kept from gifts she had received. The daughter didn't have the heart to part with them. Her mother loved Christmas more than anyone. She had six Christmas trees in her house. So a few years later, the daughter came up with the idea to make a special Christmas hat. "It's really a tribute to my mommy," she said.

What an amazing person her mother must have been, to inspire such a fun, fantastic hat. And what a confident daughter she raised, someone who would be able to wear it with such grace and whimsy. And to think I might have missed it, had all indicators not pointed me to Trader Joe's.

Happy Christmas.

Susan

Hot

Melissa Nelson began working as a dental assistant for James Knight when she was 20. He was 39. They worked together for ten years when he fired her. He says she was the most competent assistant he had ever had. But she was hot. Too hot. Knight's wife, who also worked in the dental practice, urged him to fire her. He sought the counsel of his church pastor, who agreed Nelson should be fired. Knight spoke to Nelson's husband and told him why he was firing his wife. It was to save his marriage. Maybe to save Nelson's marriage as well. Knight found Nelson so irresistably hot that he knew if she continued to work there, they would have an affair. The case went to the Iowa Supreme Court, which ruled that Nelson's firing was not illegal. It was also not gender discrimination. According to the Supreme Court record, the dentist and assistant talked and texted about some subjects that seem, in my opinion, to be inappropriate for an employer and employee.

Knight is an adult who is responsible for his own conduct, no matter how hot Nelson is or how tight her clothing may be. Likewise Nelson is an adult, who in a perfect world, would dress in a way that was appropriate for the workplace and showed respect for her own body. I used to belong to a religious group that advocated modest dress for women because with our hotness we might cause men to lust. That type of thinking is disrespectful to men and women alike, for it paints women as potential temptresses and men as weak. I tend to dress conservatively and have often been surprised at what some women believe is okay to wear to work. Apparently Knight said Nelson's clothing was too tight. Nelson said not. This dysfunctional soap opera is not somewhere I would be going to get my teeth cleaned; that's for sure.

What really stands out for me here is Knight's wife. Isn't it kind of embarrassing to be her? Wouldn't it be better to address the issues of your marriage through counseling rather than encouraging your husband to fire the hot employee? There is always going to be someone younger or hotter. Or more interesting or more confident or just someone different. Temptation is everywhere, and who knows but even someone less hot than yourself could catch your husband's eye.

A husband and wife saving their marriage by looking at themselves, and not forces or people outside the relationship. Now that is hot.

Susan

My Hair is Being Pulled By the Stars

"I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again." Anais Nin

There is a history in my family of bipolar disorder (manic depression) and I am very thankful not to have it. I am a fairly calm and even-tempered person. I do pretty well going with the flow. When my younger son was a teenager, he called it being "chill."

I do have these times when I get bored and restless. I don't act out, but those who know me best know I'm a little out of sorts. It used to bother me because it seemed so random, so out of the blue. I wanted to fix it or figure it out. Or maybe figure it out so I could fix it.

Then I realized that when I felt this way, it was because something was brewing. There was a shift, a change, about to take place. And it's always something good, something I like. So now when I feel bored and restless, I still feel that way but there is also an excitement knowing that something, somewhere is about to happen for me.

Right now I don't feel that way. I feel calm and peaceful and chill. But I totally understand what my favorite writer Anais Nin meant about her hair.

Susan

The Good Life

"This process of the good life is not, I am convinced, a life for the faint-hearted. It involves the stretching and growing of becoming more and more of one's potentialities. It involves the courage to be. It means launching oneself fully into the stream of life." Carl Rogers

What does it mean to live a good life? In American culture, we might think it means to be financially prosperous, successful in a career. Perhaps have a long marriage with children who grow up to be likewise prosperous and successful. Is the good life something on the outside, or does it come from within?

Another trailblazer in the field of psychology, Dr. Rogers spoke of the fully functioning person. The actualized human being, the one living what he called the good life. It truly sounds wonderful to live this way. Here's a list.

• Lives life fully, being open to what is going on in the present moment without defensiveness.
• This results in excitement, daring, adaptability, tolerance, spontaniety, a lack of rigidity.
• Trusts one's own judgment and innate sense of right and wrong.
• Has freedom of choice. Believes that he determines his own behavior and so feels responsible for it.
• Is creative in self-expression.  Also creative in adapting to circumstances without conforming.
• Acts constructively. Is aware of all his needs, and finds even aggressive needs matched and balanced by the innate goodness in similar individuals.
• Experiences joy and pain, love and heartbreak, fear and courage intensely.

So the good life isn't something on the outside. It's inside of us. I have experienced all of it, but just in bits and pieces and fits and starts. But I want it all. All the time.

Susan

Burn It Down

"You can change what you want about yourself at any time. You see yourself as someone who can’t write or play an instrument, who gives in to temptation or makes bad decisions, but that’s really not you. It’s not ingrained. It’s not your personality. Your personality is something else, something deeper than just preferences, and these details on the surface, you can change any time you like.

If it is useful to do so, you must abandon your identity and start again. Sometimes, it’s the only way. Set fire to your old self. It’s not needed here. It’s too busy shopping, gossiping about others, and watching days go by and asking why you haven’t gotten as far as you’d like. This old self will die and be forgotten by all but family, and replaced by someone who makes a difference. Your new self is not like that. Your new self is the Great Chicago Fire—overwhelming, overpowering, and destroying everything that isn’t necessary. "  Julien Smith
 

Because I live in a part of the country prone to wild fires, I know several people quite well who have lost their homes in fire. Without exception, for all they lost, they are grateful for still having the important things...their loved ones, their pets, perhaps a few family photographs they took with them when we all evacuated. The fire burned everything else up, and they were left with the essentials.

A close friend I've known for more than half my life described me recently as a "deep but uncomplicated person." I asked her what she meant, and she said that I feel things deeply and think deeply, but I am a simple kind of girl. She said it was one of the things she loved about me, that she has never had to try to figure me out.

Her comment was timely, because over the past few weeks I have begun to have this clarity about what is important to me, what I really need to live my life, and it is all pretty simple. It's not complicated at all. I have begun to feel a detachment from a lot of stuff, just sort of letting go of the superfluous. Letting go of expectations that other people should behave in a certain way, letting go of some of my "I always..." and "I never..." statements. An example is that one day I had the thought that I could live somewhere else, somewhere cold. I love California. I've lived here for 27 years. I love the warm weather and the ocean and the palm trees, and well I simply love it. And my kids and grandkids are here. So I was surprised to have that thought, that I am so open to what life might bring my way that I would be willing to live somewhere else, somewhere cold. Not that I have plans to do that; it just was interesting to find that I'm not attached to my geographic location. Where I live, apparently, is not one of my essentials. Who knew?

Ten more days and the year will be up. Where are you headed in the new year? What is necessary for you? What are your essentials?

Susan

"Burn it Down" written by Linkin Park

 

 

 

Uncomfortable

"The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be." Ralph Waldo Emerson

Several years ago, I made a decision that would literally change my life. I decided to be happy. I wrote about it one of my first posts, Focus. Have you noticed that some people are very happy being unhappy? Whatever the cause of their misery, they refuse to make even the smallest change. Do they fear the unknown? Has unhappiness become such a habit that they can't break it? Or are they comfortable in their misery? Maybe so. Perhaps over time, being unhappy becomes their "normal," and they just don't want to live any differently.

Stepping outside of one's comfort zone can be difficult and scary, and at first we can feel like a stranger in a strange land. Everything is so odd and awkward, and we want to skitter back from whence we came. Where it's safe. Where it's comfortable. Breaking old habits and replacing them with good, new ones is hard work.

When I chose to be happy, it had serious repercussions in my life. I was not so hard on myself anymore. I grew to like myself and eventually love myself. I was married at the time, and my husband was an unhappy person, and I had failed to make him happy. I decided that I was going to be happy, since I was the only person I could change. The happier I became in and of myself, the more unhappy I became in my marriage. The contrast between how he viewed life and how I viewed life became quite stark. It was during this time that the gulf between us became so great it would never be bridged. While in some ways he treated me quite well, the cycle of verbal and emotional abuse started to become very evident. I think since the children were grown, I finally allowed myself to see it. The only time I was unhappy was when I was with him. The only time I felt bad about myself was when he was mean to me. I guess I thought if I chose to be happy, I could better tolerate my marriage, but it had the opposite effect. It highlighted how bad things really were.

Now, years later, happiness is just my default setting. A positive attitude is simply how I view life. Of course, bad things happen and I have sad times just like anyone else. But mostly I focus on joy and beauty, and I almost always find it. And when there is none to be found, I create it. Life still asks me to step outside my comfort zone, just in different ways now. Sometimes I hold back. Usually there's a little bit of fear. And then I say to myself, "Come on, Susie, just do it." There's something good waiting out there for me.

And for you, too.

Susan

Life is Like a Treadmill

It was raining this morning, so instead of walking outside like I usually do, I jumped on the treadmill. When I say "jumped," I really mean stepped on. There is a small but really nice fitness center in our apartment complex. So there I was, singing along to "I Thought About the Army" and thinking some deep thoughts.

The first thing I thought was how good it is I have a job where I interact with both my colleagues and customers, because it takes me out of my head. I am inside my head a lot. You, as a reader, are also inside my head.

The second thing I thought about is how blessed I am to have a fitness center to use, one that is right here where I live. And how convenient it was to put my clothes in the washer in our complex's laundry room, then hop over to the fitness center. When I say "hop," I really mean walk.

The third thing I thought about is how life is like a treadmill. When I walk outside, I go around my neighborhood, or I head over to say hello to the Pacific Ocean. I go somewhere. On the treadmill, I am moving but going no where. Does life ever seem that way to you? Like you are going no where fast? You are walking or joggng or running or just trudging along. It seems like nothing is happening, but something is happening all the time. Behind the scenes of your life, and inside of you. Just like me on the treadmill. Maybe it seemed like I was going no where, but I was sweating and my heart muscle was working, and tomorrow morning when I get up, my other muscles will tell me something happened.

The fourth thing I thought of is how I should share this super fun song with you, performed in an even super funner way. And when I say "funner," I mean more fun.

Susan

"Army" written by Ben Folds

Giddy

"The wrong shall fail. The right prevail. With peace on earth, good will to men." Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Have you finished your Christmas shopping yet? There's still time to buy "I Survived the Mayan Apocalypse" tee shirts from Snorgtees. Wouldn't that make a fun family photo Christmas card, everyone in apocalypse matching tee shirts? Some other cute ones are "Hedgehogs: Why don't they just share the hedge?" and "Misuse of 'literally' makes me figuratively insane."

In case you haven't heard, there are some who think the Mayan calendar predicts that the world will end this Friday, December 21. You can watch the end of the world online at Space.com. I think an end of the world party would be fun, with Mayan food (which is amazing) on the menu. It is also the winter solstice. Lots going on that day.

Something else you can do is track Santa on his journey. There is also an phone app for this.

You could make my fudge! I never thought I would put a recipe on my blog, but I am feeling kind of silly. Do you or someone you love not like fudge because you think it's too sweet? This is fudge for people who don't think they like fudge. And people who know they like fudge will like it, too. It is based on the recipe from the back of the jar of Kraft marshmallow (which is not really marshmallow) fluff, which I have tweaked. For best results, do not make any substitutions. Nuts are optional. That's funny!

BITTERSWEET FUDGE

2 1/2 cups white sugar
5 ounces evaporated milk
3/4 cup butter
1 jar marshmallow (which is not really marshmallow) fluff
12 ounces of unsweetened chocolate
2 teaspoons vanilla
3/4 cup chopped nuts, only if you like nuts

Combine sugar, milk and butter in a large saucepan. Cook over medium low heat, bring to a boil, then stir constantly for three to five minutes or until it reaches the soft ball stage. (Put a little dab in a small cup of very cold water. If you can form the mixture into a soft ball, you have reached perfection.)

Remove from heat.  Stir in the chocolate and vanilla and mix with a spoon until chocolate is completely melted. Stir in the fluff and mix until it is completely blended. Pour into a buttered pan 9" x 9" pan. Let cool at room temperature until completely set. Cut into squares.

I am having a great day. I had a day off from work. I did a little Christmas shopping. I made some yummy things to eat for the next couple of lunches and dinners. I thought that I needed to do homework, then I remembered the semester is over. I thought I needed to do laundry, then I remembered that I don't go into work until 2:00 tomorrow, so I can do laundry in the morning. I think this is what has made me kind of giddy, a lack of responsibilities. And frankly, I can only handle so much sadness and then I just have to break out the happy.

My wonderful niece has decided to Do Something in response to the shooting in Connecticut. During her kids' Christmas break from school, she is doing 27 acts of kindness in honor of the 27 people who died. Isn't that a great idea?

So enjoy the Mayan Apocalypse. Have some fudge. Don't do your laundry until tomorrow. Have fun. Be kind. Every bit of fun we have, every act of kindness we perform, helps us defeat the sadness and badness in the world. The wrong shall fail. The right prevail.

Susan

Ebenezer

One of my coworkers at the store actually counted how many Christmas songs we have in the music overhead. She claims there are only twelve songs, endlessly repeated throughout the day. She finds it a peculiar form of torture for those of us who work there. She finds the one sung by Justin Beiber particularly repugnant.  I agreed and said that it probably violates the Geneva Conventions. Seriously now. I love Christmas music. It is everywhere you go now. I sing and hum along. My dear roommate/friend said my rendition of "I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas" went on for over an hour the other day. Off and on. Sung and hummed and whistled and so on. Oh my. Working on not doing that again.

There is a song that has been following me around this holiday season. I never thought of it as a Christmas song, but apparently it can be interpreted that way. It was one of my favorite songs back in the day when I attended church on a regular basis. I have heard it on the radio when I'm driving and in stores when I'm shopping. It has been years, but just like the scripture that I so diligently memorized, the words to those songs remain in my heart and in my soul. My view of life and the universe has broadened considerably from back when I believed in a personal Jesus, a heaven and hell, a black and white kind of existence. But who I was back then is a part of who I am now. The ebenezer stone in this song is from the Book of Samuel. It represents a new beginning.

Friday when the horror in Connecticut unfolded, I thought it so horribly unfair that I am so blessed. That I have so much in my life, that I am healthy and happy, with a wonderful present and an even more exciting future, when my sisters across the country were bereft of their little children. Their lives will never be the same. They cannot go back in time, to a time when their kids were alive. Friday marked a new beginning for them, one they didn't want and didn't sign up for. I was thinking how hard it would be just to get up every morning, if indeed they got any sleep at all, and face a new day. Their future looks bleak, but I must believe that there are good things ahead for them. We must make it that way.

Susan

"Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing" written by Robert Robinson

Belong

"When you know and respect your inner nature, you know where you belong. You know where you don't belong." Benjamin Huff

We as humans are social creatures. I enjoy solitude. I read somewhere the difference between an introvert and an extrovert is that the extrovert recharges his or her batteries by being with people. An introvert's batteries get recharged by being alone.

I am an introvert. That is something that often has a negative connotation in American culture. Parents whose children are introverted often worry about them. I am not "shy." Although I used to dislike small talk, I have come to understand that it is a beginning of a connection with another person, something I like very much. I don't dislike people. I love people. I just get worn out and need a little alone time. People who know me in real life know me as a cheerful, outgoing person. But still I am an introvert.

It was one of my days off from work, and a manager called to ask if I could come in and work a few hours that evening, since a colleague called in sick. I said yes, and when I got there, several of my coworkers were pleasantly surprised to see me. I wasn't on the schedule, so they weren't expecting me. But they were happy I had showed up. One of them even hugged me, and said, "I'm not so stressed when you are here."

I like to belong. Yes. Even introverts need to feel wanted and appreciated and know they belong. It is what we look for when we join service organizations and clubs and churches. It is what we look for when we move in together and get married and have babies. That sense of community, of belonging is crucial.

The great pioneer in psychology, Abraham Maslow, constructed a pyramid of what we need as human beings.



Working from the ground up, we will see that after our basic physical needs and safety are all good,  next comes belonging. Do I have a place where I belong? Do I offer that sense of belonging to other people?

Susan

Ann Taylor

In last week's post Serendipity I wrote about finding some wonderful new clothes. Then Saturday on my way to work, I stopped by another thrift store. They were having a 50% off everything sale, and for $24 I found three tops, a skirt, and a hoodie with matching pants. So that means for a total of $50 I pretty much have an amazing new wardrobe.

I noticed that three items I purchased on Saturday and one item from last week had Ann Taylor labels in them. What is up with that? Who is Ann Taylor, and why is she giving me all these clothes?

Susan

Do Something

I want to do something. The local radio station I listen to is having a Toys for Tots drive today, and it was suggested that was a way for those of us on the other coast to channel our grief for our brothers and sisters in Connecticut. Good idea.

I would like to jump on a plane today and fly to Connecticut. If I left now, I could be there by late this evening. I would like to just be with the families of those who died yesterday. I could find them (stalkerish, I know, but it's just a thought) and maybe make a pot of coffee or tea if they are tea drinkers. Take the dog for a walk or clean the kitty's litter box. Maybe they have dishes in the sink from yesterday. I could wash them. Maybe make a pot of soup or rub their feet or hold their hands.

I always want to do something, although I am sure there are people right here where I live that could use some help and I have failed to do that for them. Charity begins at home, you might say. I am reflecting. (Are you chuckling, thinking that I do a lot of that normally?) We are all in this together, in this country and in this world. What happens to them affects me, and the reverse is true. I want to do something.

Susan

It's Christmas Time in the City

What is your favorite Christmas song? Mine is "Silver Bells" by Ray Evans and Jay Livingston. It has been my best song ever since I was a little girl. I grew up in a small town (current population 17,000 souls) in Pennsylvania, and I had not seen much outside that place. So I was quite sure the city the song referred to was the downtown area of my little town.

Now as I got older, I visited some real cities. Pittsburgh. New York. Sydney. Mexico City. Chicago. Los Angeles. I was telling this story to someone just the other day, and I laughed at my little girl naivete. So imagine my surprise when I got an email from an old friend who still lives there. She said tonight she was stopped at a red light on Main Street and thought I might like a picture, so she snapped this for me. Such a coincidence. Or not, if you don't believe that anything is a coincidence or accident.

I hope you are enjoying the season. I hope wherever you live, your city is "dressed in holiday style."

Susan

Christmas in Connecticut

It's the title of a charming 1945 film starring Barbara Stanwyck. Christmas in Connecticut. The horror of the elementary school shooting today in Connecticut seems especially evil since it is so close to Christmas. I can imagine nothing more painful than having your child die, and in such a random, senseless way. The young man named Adam who perpetrated this crime is dead, too, and he was not much more than a child himself.

I have no easy answers. I do know that I hate guns, and question when we as a nation will we wake up and make the changes needed so that troubled people do not have such easy access to firearms. Maybe we will finally do that. Maybe that will mean that the people, those little children who died in Connecticut today, will not have died in vain. I can't believe that back in the day those who felt the need to make sure American citizens have a right to bear arms intended that to mean that one December day right before Christmas, there would be an elementary school massacre. I can't believe that was their intention.

My dear friend/roommate and I were getting ready for work this morning, when she felt she needed to turn on the TV, and we saw the coverage of this tragedy. She cried. I went to work, and one of the sweet young women I work with was crying. I didn't cry, until tonight, when I came home and sat down and started to contemplate it all. And then I cried.

How many people do I come into contact with on a daily basis who are just this far from the edge? Troubled people, angry people, sick people, desperate people? And what do I do about it? Do the smiles and kind words I give out on a daily basis ever touch them? Should we put guns into the hands of these people, making it easy for them to spread their pain to innocent people?

Today I got my Christmas package from my wonderful niece and her family. Among the other treasures, was a homemade cloth cover with one of those tiny purse sized Kleenex packages inside, lovingly made by my ten-year-old grandniece. She made me one, and also was thoughtful enough to make one for my roommate/friend, whom she has never even met. It was a bright spot of joy in the day for both of us.

The timing was perfect, because we needed Kleenex today. Today we weep. We weep as a nation. We weep as a world, for our brothers and sisters this Christmas in Connecticut.

Susan

Past

Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" is a perennial classic this time of year. There have been many incarnations of Scrooge, from Lionel Barrymore to Mister Magoo to Jim Carrey. It's one of my favorite stories, probably because I like to think that mean people are really just troubled people who can be reformed.

If you will recall, Mr. Scrooge is visited by three ghosts in one night, who show him his past, his present and his future. Looking back at his past makes Ebenezer wistful. Do you think back to your Christmases past this time of year? Maybe it was the last Christmas you spent with a loved one who is now gone. Perhaps it was the year all you wanted was that special Cabbage Patch Kid, and you got it. It might have been the first Christmas you spent together as a couple.

One of my favorite Christmas memories is when my sons were six and ten respectively. We went to a little town up in the mountains to spend the day, a few days before Christmas. Their grandmother was with us, and she could sometimes be difficult, but that day she was happy. Snow is a novelty in southern Calfornia, and it was at a high enough elevation that there was even a bit of snow that day. We did some shopping and  bought some mistletoe and as we walked around, my younger son in a Santa hat would hold up the mistletoe and give us all kisses. His brother in particular found this disgusting, and of course the more his brother hated it, the more he wanted to get him under the mistletoe and kiss him. His dad and I let him do it for a while, but finally we told him to leave his brother alone. I close my eyes and I can still remember his little boy laugh.

What are some of your favorite Christmases past? And what if the very best one hasn't even happened yet?

Susan

"Lumberjack Christmas/No One Can Save You From Christmases Past" written by Sulfjan Stevens

Calm

It is now illegal in the United States for a television commercial to be louder than the actual program. No more grabbing the remote to turn down the volume (or mute it if you are me) when a commercial comes on. Who knows, but if the commercials are at a reasonable volume, maybe I'll even listen to how there is a giant used car tent sale this weekend and this weekend only (until next weekend.) The CALM (Commercial Advertisement Loudness Mitigation) Act is a wonderful thing.

I hate noise for the sake of noise, loudness for the sake of just being loud. Fun noise is good. Party noise is great. Music noise is the best. Bad noise, mean noise and unnecessary noise really bothers me. I like quiet. I love being with a friend and we are so close that we don't even have to talk. We just enjoy companionable silence. No reason to fill up the quiet with unnecessary noise.

I hate it when people raise their voices in anger. I have had enough of that to last a couple of lifetimes. I tend not to listen when people escalate like that. I turn them down. I mute them. It's not the way to get through to me. Not at all.

I am sorry that some people have so little power that they need to bully and bluster and scream and yell. I am sorry they have so little personal authority that the only way they can get anyone to listen to them is to be really loud. I am sorry for them, and sorry for the people who have to listen to them.

I steer clear of those kinds of people, and I certainly am not inviting them into my living room by way of the television. So this is a good thing, This CALM Act. I like it. I like it a lot. It makes me happy.

Susan

Play

It's that time of year when kids write their letters to Santa, and wish for those special toys to be under the tree Christmas morning. Play is a crucial part of a child's development. Sadly, as adults we sometimes forget to play. Maybe we would all be happier, less grumpier and have less stress-related illnesses if we remembered to play.

I have written about Pink, my pink VW New Beetle here. While out Christmas shopping, I ran across Pink's little sisters. They are cars for Barbie dolls, and what fun for a child to get one of those for Christmas. How absolutely, fantastically delightful that I have a real one and get to drive it every day.

Play is important, and fantasy is fun, for adults and kids alike. Childhood is a magical time, and what fun at Christmas to be a child. But being a grown-up can be pretty amazing, too, and sometimes reality is way better than fantasy. My wish for you, my readers, at this most wonderful time of the year, is that you begin to see some of your dreams come true.

Susan

Eighteen

Eighteen more days left in the year. Eighteen more posts and I will hit 500. How about that? That was nothing that was planned, but since finals will be over on Friday and I will be out of school for a month, doing eighteen more posts by the end of the year shouldn't be a problem.

Hero In Your Soul wasn't anything that was planned either. I started it to help two friends with a project, to promote it for them. They didn't go through with their project, but here I am more than two years later still blogging away. It has become increasingly personal as time goes on, and sometimes I am vaguely embarrassed at how self-absorbed I might seem. But not embarrassed enough to stop.

By writing this blog, I show you who I am. I don't know if you need to see who I am, but I know with absolute certainty that I need to show you. I have come a long way since I lived the life which I wrote about in Naked. I used to worry that I was no longer capable of intimacy, when the trust and respect in my marriage had broken down so badly. I don't worry about that anymore. Not only am I capable of it, I long for it. Here, and in my everyday life.

My adult kids and our mutual friends have access to my blog, and lately I've begun to regret that it isn't anonymous. Because there are topics I'd like to explore that I wouldn't be comfortable sharing with them. Perhaps at one point I will start something more private, but for today this is good.

Thank you for reading. There are some people that I know for sure have followed me from the very start, and it blows me away to think that 482 posts later, you are still interested. I had an email from a reader who said she felt inspired to volunteer at her polling place on the next election day after she read my post about my experience. So I inspired her, which is wonderful.

But you inspire me. I love knowing that there are other people in the world who believe, as Ayn Rand so brilliantly put it, "the world you desire can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours."

One down. Seventeen to go.

Susan

Young

The other day I received a Christmas card from a couple who is dear to me. Years ago, I worked with the wife. Her husband always writes something funny and wonderful in the card as well. He doesn't leave it up to her to sign the card. I opened the card and there smiling up at me was a picture of my younger self. I turned the photo over, and it was Christmas 1979, which made me 21. It was our office Christmas party, and I have forgotten many things over the past 33 years, but I remember that day. I am sitting on the lap of a coworker. Nothing racy. He said he would be Santa and I remember teasing him that he had no Santa costume. A short while before, we had dated for a couple of months. I know it's a bad idea to date someone at work, but he and I handled it well and we ended up being just fine with it. He was several years older and at that age, those years made a difference. He seemed such a man of the world to me, and we stopped dating when he said I was sweet and innocent and he would only corrupt me. That was partly true, but mostly we just "weren't into each other" as people say today. But the way he phrased it was gallant, wasn't it? He died a few years ago, and to see the younger me and the younger him, well it made me very happy.

I am young and fresh faced, bright eyed and my hair is all long and shiny. Back then I had no idea how pretty I was. I have read things like "a letter to my younger self." December 1979 I had just joined a fundamentalist Christian church, a decision that would give me unique experiences, but a lot of pain as well. It was a path that would lead me to my future marriage and those two wonderful boys who would become my sons.

Do I want to write a letter to the 21-year-old me? Nah. If I could talk to her, would I give her any advice? No. I think what I would do is hug her and say the first thing I thought of when I saw the photo: "I love you."

Susan

All

Over the years, I have been able to temper my perfectionism. Once I saw it for what it was, which for me was false pride and a feeling of not being good enough in and of myself. On purpose, I began to stop and say, "Okay. This will do." I eased off the pressure, and found to my surprise, that I did things even better when I relaxed. I wrote about the difference between perfectionism and excellence here.

That all being said, I do throw myself wholeheartedly into everything I do. I have a lot of enthusiasm. Yesterday at work, I was depending on someone who seems to do just enough to get by. There were a couple of places that she could have picked up the pace just a little, you know rise to the occasion and all that, but she didn't. I had to check my judgmental attitude toward her, because that isn't helpful.

She's just not an all or nothing kind of gal. Now sometimes I have wished that I could be a little more lukewarm about things, but it's not who I am. And really, being excited and enthusiastic and throwing my whole being into something makes me really happy.

Susan

"All or Nothing" written by Oscar Hammerstein II and Richard Rodgers

Serendipity

I am in need of some clothes, and lately I have been getting some great things at good prices. It is a tough time of year to fit clothes shopping in the budget, but I really am in need. Today I felt that I should go to Old Navy. The closest one is about twenty-five minutes away, in an area I don't normally frequent. I on purpose did not overthink it. I just did it. So off I went. I tried on some things at Old Navy, but didn't buy anything there. Then on the way home I spotted a new Goodwill store. Its windows were painted with pictures of Christmas trees and sparkly ornaments and poinsettias. Inside it was big and clean and well organized. It even had dressing rooms. I love thrift stores and secondhand shops and such. A lot of what is in my clothes closet and some of the furnishings in my home are used things that have found a new life with me.

For a total of $24, I got a pair of jeans, two tops and the most awesome skirt with butterflies on it. How cool is that? So it seems to me that the reason I went to Old Navy was not to buy clothes at Old Navy, but to run across this wonderful store that wasn't there last time I was in that neighborhood. The clerk told me it had opened last month.

Serendipity! A happy accident. An unexpected surprise as I was doing something else. Or not, if you happen to be one of those people who believe that nothing is accidental or coincidental. Kind of like you're just walking along, and all of a sudden here is this beautiful butterfly that lights near you for just a few seconds. Or how about a skirt covered in butterflies? Butterflies that don't flit away. Butterflies that stay. This makes me very happy.

Susan

Ravioli

I am an early bird. At my best and happiest in the mornings. Friday I had worked a long day. I'm not complaining. I love my job. But retail at Christmas is crazy. Part of what I do when we are at our busiest is be the Line Elf. We have one long queue for the customers, then buttons are pushed and they are told to go to Register 3 or whatever. While they are in line, I chat them up about our store, our online survey, our store credit card, our St. Jude drive, our gift cards, and so on. I love people and I enjoy doing it. If I was a natural extrovert, it would probably energize me to do this. But as an introvert, the more I talk to people the more drained I feel. So that evening I went home and did a few things I needed to do, then got ready for bed.

Physically I was very tired, but I was still pretty alert mentally. Not really winding down. I kind of just chilled there in bed for a while, playing with my iphone. I felt...oh I don't know. Kind of bored and kind of lonely and kind of sad without really knowing why I felt that way. Then it hit me! Then I had an inspiration! Ravioli! I had found this really cool ravioli at my favorite store, and it was just chilling there in the fridge. I wasn't really hungry, but definitely in the mood to cook.

So I went downstairs and started making some red sauce for the ravioli. It's 10:30 at night, past my bedtime for sure, and I am chopping onions and mushrooms, listening to Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman sing "Time To Say Goodbye." I turned it up really loud, and sang along. It was like this amazing Italian opera going on in our little apartment's kitchen, and I started to cry when it occurred to me how beautiful life really is.

It was an amazing experience, all of it. The music. My mood. The ravioli. I slept really well that night.

Susan

"Time to Say Goodbye" written by Lucio Quarantotti and Francesco Sartori

Will

"Imagine what you desire. Will what you imagine. Create what you will." George Bernard Shaw

She asked me if I believed in a spirit world, and I said that while I am not a religious person, I know that there is a lot more out there than we can see or touch. That was all the encouragement she needed to tell me her story. She told me that she and her mother lived in an old house when she was a child, and she knew there was a ghost there. She felt his presence. She sensed him. She wasn't afraid of him. This past summer her father died unexpectantly. He was in his early fifties. Their relationship was unresolved. He and her mother never married, and he was in and out of her life. Never a person she could depend on. His sudden death caused her to feel guilty that she had not talked to him for almost a year when he died. She was sorry for her part in the estrangement. She is a young woman, not yet twenty, and the guilt is a lot of her to handle. It would be for anyone of any age. It is difficult to have someone die when you don't get to say goodbye, or any of the other unsaid things you need to say.

She felt him the other day. Her dad. Just like the spirit she felt when she was a little girl. He told her that he was angry for a while that she wasn't talking to him, but he's not mad anymore. He forgives her. He is in a good, happy place. He said he was sorry for all the times he was not there for her growing up, but now he will always be with her. Watching over her. He loves her.

"That must have made you feel so good to have that reassurance," I said. She had tears in her eyes. I said, "Maybe when people die, they leave us gifts, like an inheritance of money but better. Maybe what your dad didn't give you when he was living, he will give you now that he's gone. Maybe when he was alive, he couldn't or wouldn't give you what you need." Her expression was pained. "Sometimes," I said, "I think there's a really fine line between can't and won't for some people, the difference between being unable and unwilling."

I am glad she feels better. She is a lovely person with a quirky sense of fashion that matches her quirky sense of humor, and a very kind heart. She works hard putting herself through school, and had the fortitude to get herself out of an abusive relationship with a guy. She is a strong person. The kind of person who makes things happen for herself. The kind of person who is both willing and able to do the right thing.

She needed this, this communication from her father. She likes knowing he is watching over her, this spirit who is more present in her life now than when he was alive.

Susan

Give

"There are two kinds of people in the world; takers and givers. The takers eat better, but the givers sleep better." Danny Thomas

Tonight starts the "eight crazy nights" of Hanukkah. In just a couple of weeks, Christmas will be here. It's the time of year that many of us think of others more that we might ordinarily do. We think about giving. At the store where I work, customers can make a donation for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital at our cash registers.

Do you know the story of how St. Jude's got started? Danny Thomas' early career as an entertainer was floundering. He was willing to give up on his dream of being in show business. He did, after all, have a wife and baby daughter Margaret (Marlo) to support. He prayed to the patron saint of hopeless causes, St. Jude of Thaddeus, saying, "Show me the way and I will build a shrine to you." Within a week, Thomas' career took a major turn for the better. Danny Thomas was a man of his word, and the shrine he built remains to this day the foremost research center for childhood cancer and leukemia in the country. It is St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. No child's family ever pays for anything at St. Jude's. What a beacon of light it must be for those kids and their parents, at a time when they feel helpless and hopeless.

Giving is one of the best parts of living. I am thankful for a time of year that is specially dedicated to bringing out the giver in all of us. Sleep well tonight.

Susan

Someday

"Life has a certain flavor for those who have fought and risked all that the sheltered and protected can never experience." John Stuart Mill

Years ago, I was a travel agent in a small town, and building relationships with clients was very important. When I first started out, it was before Orbitz and Travelocity, when a passenger had to have a paper ticket to board a plane  Airfare prices even today fluctuate wildly. The last time I flew into Pittsburgh to visit my family, I got a fare of $154. This morning the best price I could get even with an advance purchase is $371.

So I would watch fares for that client who would be going to a wedding in Omaha next summer, or that other client whose grandchildren live in Seattle. I'd call them so they could lock in the lower fare. Oahu every early December was the destination of one older man who was a Pearl Harbor survivor. The first time I met him, I waited expectantly for him to tell about the day that Franklin Roosevelt said "would live in infamy." I have always enjoyed hearing stories of days gone by told my elder storytellers.

His story was short and to the point. "I was seventeen. I peed my pants." Every year, he would tell me that same story. As if I had never heard it before. There was no elaboration. Now I will be frank and tell you that I didn't press him mostly because I was uncomfortable hearing any more stories about his, ahem, elimination. He loved to talk, so I guess if he wanted to tell me more he would have.

He was young and he was scared. I respect those men and women who have served and continue to serve our country. They deserve a well funded military so they can do their jobs. They are young, and some would call them kids. But that seems disrespectful, because they see a side of life that I as an older person have never had to face. I don't have to face it, because they are willing to.

War is ugly and scary, and we collectively as Americans have made mistakes, such as detainment camps during World War II, described in this article today in the Los Angeles Times. We can learn from the past. We can learn from our mistakes. And we can hope for and work toward a better tomorrow.

Susan

I can't determine who wrote "Someday at Christmas." Was it Stevie Wonder?

Detour

On more than one occasion, I have been called stubborn. That is such a harsh word, isn't it? I prefer determined or tenacious, which makes it sound like a virtue, or perhaps even charming like the way I expressed it in I'd Be A Bulldog.

When I was younger, I had some pretty definite ideas about life. Once I get an idea in my head, it's full speed ahead. But life is funny. Sometimes the better part of wisdom is to give up. To let go. And sometimes the road of life offers me a detour. I can stubbornly stop and refuse to go on, or I can take the detour.

Years ago, if you would have told me what my life at 54 would be like, I would never have believed you. Not in a million years. But you know what? I am happier than I ever thought I would be.

I am still on my way. Still on the road. Just getting there another way. And hopefully if there are more detours up ahead, I'll save myself a lot of grief and take those detours a little more gracefully and graciously than I have in the past.

Susan

"Home By Another Way" written by James Taylor (As best as I can determine. If you know differently, will you let me know so I can credit the right person?)

Mean

It has always been my favorite, "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" with Burl Ives as the Snowman. You know, those Gumby-like creatures that move around, which was I am sure cutting edge technology for 1964. I was six years old then, so I would imagine that there have been very few, if any, Christmas seasons that I haven't watched it. The songs are the best. How can you not love "Holly Jolly Christmas"?

Last night I took a bath and got all cozy and sat down on the sofa to watch it. A few minutes in, we see baby Rudolph with his big red nose. His mother is shocked. His father appalled. Then in walks Santa, and he says he had great hopes for Donner's new son, but it just isn't going to happen.

Okay! That was it. I turned the TV off. Now it could have been that I had an especially challenging day at work. And yes, I was up about two hours earlier than I usually am. So I was tired and a little worn out. And I know how the tale of Rudolph turns out, but I couldn't even comfort myself with the fact that it would all be happy in the end. No. I am tired of mean people. I was annoyed with Rudolph's passive mother. Mean. I was hurt when his father said, "His blinking beak blinks like a blinking beacon." Mean. And Santa Claus? Really now! That Santa is just mean, which proves he is not the real Santa. I was weary and tired of waiting for happy endings

So, feeling defeated,  I went to bed at 8:10 pm and slept ten hours, and I woke feeling better this morning. I had my coffee, and now I feel great. And I am very glad that I recorded "Rudolph" because I know I will enjoy it when I'm in a better frame of mind.

We were listening to "Holly Jolly Christmas" on the radio the other day, and my friend asked me what a holly jolly Christmas actually was. I said to just think of your very best Christmas ever, and that is a holly jolly Christmas. Which I plan to have, even though there is sadness and badness in the world. I believe in my heart that goodness prevails.

But mean people? I have had it up to here with them.

Susan

"Mean" written by Taylor Swift
"Holly Jolly Christmas" written by Johnny Marks

What Am I?

 

 

My sweet niece had this on Facebook this morning. She is one of those people who make the world a better place, just by being here. Who am I, what am I, to others? It's something to think about, isn't it?

 

Susan

 



That Right Would Always Win

Have you written your letter to Santa yet?

Susan

"Grown Up Christmas List" written by David Foster and Linda Thompson-Jenner