Marlise's Corner

There's a saying that no good deed goes unpunished. I have always thought that a bit cynical, even for me. Lately, however, I am wondering if there is some truth in it, Or maybe if it's entirely dependent on what type of good deed it is.

The other day I went to the store with the children in search of a birthday present for a friend. We had, what I consider to be a very successful outting. We found everything we were looking for and almost everythin on sale or at reduced price!!! A shoppers heaven. The children, while not perfect, were very well behaved so I thought I would take them by a parking lot where folks gather to sell puppies/dogs/cats/the occassional child (kidding). We pulled up and the children had lots of fun looking at all the cute bundles of joy, Having a bulldog that is still very much a puppy in nature, I did not feel the slightest pang for any of these little cute furballs, but then I saw him. A big black and white puppy. Distendended belly, no food or water looking just miserable. I walked over to where the poor little fellow was and spoke to the owners. They were hoping ot get rid of him that afternoon or else they would take him to the pound. I looked at the poor little thing and my heart broke. Maybe I recognized something of myself in him (I also had not had water or food that morning, and was sufferring from winter skin, which could immitate the itchiness of fleas) Before I knew it, I had said, "I'll take him." First stop was the vet who confirmed that the fellow was riddled with worms hence the distended belly. I wondered if my distended bulges were just a result of worms and if I could magically have the figure I wanted just by drinking some deworming syryp. His tail had been pulled off at some stage and the end broken as well. We had him vaccined, and dewormed, and then drove home. It was then that I started feeling really sick. I mean, can't think to eat kind of sick, which for me, only happens when I'm pregnant and even then, not so much. My stomach started churning, my heart started racing. I was aware of some precipitation happening on my skin (yes, it was precipitation) so I closed the car window and switched on the wiper blades. It dawned on me, Oh my gosh, I have taken another dog and am bringing into my home. That wouldn't be such a problem save for my husband who would rather that all canine disappear from the face of the earth. He tolerates my bulldog, but barely. I decided to phone and give him the heads up. It dawned on me that maybe this phone call should've been placed a while ago already, like when my heart had first broken for the poor soul. I didn't and so now here I was.

To say that I was met with a stoney silence would be an understatement worthy of an Englishman. To say that the receiption was frosty would be an insult to all things frosty. No this was something I hadn't encountered before. It was completely a different kind of animal. Gone was my loving, understanding and long suffereing husband, and his place was a green, snotty (he is battling a cold) Ogre (and flu too). He couldn't bear to look at me. When I greeted him, not even a grunt excaped his chapped lips. My heart broke again. Because in saving one soul, I had deeply wounded and injured another and here I was torn between two souls (and immediately decided to find a cobbler).

Needless to say, I don't regret saving the poor little fellow from the pound, but it is abundantly clear to me that the best thing I could do for him is to find him a good home and a loving family that would all love him and enjoy having him around. All of God's creatures deserve that - to be celebrated and appreciated. Hence, the classified that is currently running. Hopefully I will have a new home for him by Christmas, and in so doing might find my own home warm and welcoming once more.

Til next time ........

BTW if you want a cute lab/collie mix pup let me know. Also up for grabs is an English Bulldog .....

It's that time of year where here in the US of A, one can hear a collective sigh of relief from mothers everywhere as summer "break" comes to an end. I put "break" in quotes because a break that long is more like a "sabbatical". In fact the "break" is so long, that studies have shown children lose skills or forget important facts. For this reason, parents are urged to encourage children to spend a couple of minutes (30 min) every day practising such vital literacy skills as reading and spelling. Even handwriting takes a hammering not to mention maths. Although, to be fair, if anyone had my apptitude for maths, the skills were pretty much lost the minute the bell rang for end of period Anyhoo .... as I was reflecting on how long the summer is, I was looking at the photographs of our summer vacation this year and it brought all manner of "warm fuzzies".

This year we took advantage of Rutherford county's week head start on the rest of the school systems. We booked our holiday for the very first week after the school's let out. It proved to be a very wise decision. Not only did we manage to get our hotel and plane fares at low season prices, but everything was still quiet, comparatively speaking. No crowds to have to fight.

Our holiday started like a scene from some crazy comedy. Mark had secured us seats on the first flight out to Florida. That way we arrive nice and early and still get to hit one of the theme parks. We duly set our alarm clock for three a.m. We need to check in by 5:30a.m. Anyone who has ever travelled with children, especially young ones, knows that one does need as much extra time as possible to get everyone up, dressed and pottied I woke up on the day of travel noticing the dawn light pushing it's way between the space between my thick curtains. Yes, you read correctly. I did say "dawn light" . Yes, you are correct again. Dawn does not light at three in the morning. I sat bolt up right and leaned over my still snoring husband to peer at the red numbers on the alarm clock. 5:00 am. I violently shook my sleeping spouse, frantically calling his name. "huh??" "it's already five - the alarm did not go off".

I will not repeat what eloquent words flew out my normally very quiet, calm and collected husband's mouth. Let's just say that it would have carried at least a PG-16 rating. The scenes that unfolded next, were so comical to me, that even in the mad rush that ensued, I couldn't stop laughing.

My husband, trying to pull on his socks as he skips, walks, runs, down our passage to our son's room. Using his most urgent, non-threatening tone he could muster, he tried to wake him. On days when you have bundles of time just laying around waiting to be wasted, this could be an ardious task, on days when you have actually run into deficit - well you can imagine!! Then hop, skip, run back into the master bedroom where he next tries to pull on his jeans, this while trying to hop, skip and speed walk into our bathroom, where he was trying to brush his teeth and brush his hair simultaneously. You have to understand that all this is happening while the PG-16 eloquence is being muttered under his breath. No time to shower, so just a liberal spray of good ol' Brut (because today he really was being a Brut ) And then repeat the whole hop, skip and speedwalk thing again as he is putting on and tying his tennis shoes. I tell you, as long as I live, I have never witnessed a scene quite so funny in all my life.

Realising that we were never going to make the check-in on time, I contacted the airline and had us moved to a later flight. It meant coming in a little later, but far more relaxed. And so began our summer vacation!!!

We spent a couple of days cruising the theme parks. Which was very interesting and entertaining for the little people. Then on to the beach. We headed down to West Palm Beach this year for a slight change of scenery. As luck would have it, we were down there in time for the shuttle launch. We had high hopes of being able to witness the infamous "plume" from the beach. Unfortunately, as "Murphy" would have it, there was a lot of cloud cover that day, so while we did not actually get to witness the shuttle ascend into the heavens, we did get to hear the rumble of it taking off and the sonic boom. Both were very impressive.

This year marked the first year that I felt trully able to relax on holiday. I took my iPod with me, listened to my tunes, read a book, while I lay out at the pool/beach. Oh man - i hope Heaven has a spot like that there for me.

Anyone who knows me, knows I have little "crisis" from time to time. By "crisis" I refer to a minor emotional meltdown which usually occurs ahead of a critial/milestone event in life. For example, when I turned 25, I had a minor crisis which then continued right up to 30. The anticipation of the big 3-0 was all too much. Well this year is another momentous year for me. My eldest has a "big" birthday this year. The kind that rudely snaps you back to the reality that your baby is actually growing up. And while one would think that the regularity with which birthdays come each year, might clue you in to the fact that your baby is busy morphing into a "tween". In this case, the whole thing caught me off-guard. The very thought of my baby entering the world of "double digits" gets my heart racing and my palms sweating. My mouth gets all dry and I wildly wonder to myself, "but where did the time go?" and "I can't possibly be that old". At times I can barely breathe .... Double digits ....

The whole ordeal is exasparated, it seems, when I look back at photos taken from birth to present day. There in frozen moments of time, I am finally able to grasp what in kinetic life, slipped my notice ..... The development of a man.

Ever had a really lovely day? I have been fortunate enough to experience a few of them in my lifetime. However there is one that really sticks out in my mind.

I had received some disheartening news, right about the time my bulldog needed to go outside for a potty break. I decided, instead of doing the standard potty run, I would get the children on their bikes, and take Londo for a stroll down the road. It had to be a short road, because everyone knows that bulldogs aren't into the whole, "it's a long, long road; with many a windy turn ...." You WILL end up having to carry them home!! And believe me, he IS heavy!!

When we started our walk, the sun was begining to set, the autumn wind was re-arranging my hair and playfully scooting the leaves along the ground. My children were doing big, lazy figure eight's in the road (because even a short road is a "long road with many a windy turn" when you are a bulldog and have short stubby legs), Londo's little ears flapping cheerfully in the wind as we walked. Suddenly, I felt it. Warm and comforting. Something inside that made me smile. Heaven's smile. In that moment, I became aware of just how blessed I am. How loved, how cherished. How beautiful the world can be and how surprisingly amazing my life is. I found myself taking in a deep breath, as if trying to take in all the grace, mercy, kindness, love, joy, hope, enthusiasm, wonder and optimism that at that moment, seemed to surround me. To breathe it in deeply into my soul. To keep it there - a favorite treasure I can go re-visit at any time and breathe it all in again.

Right there, in that moment, I found myself saying, "Thank you". Feeling so grateful to be alive and wondering, if Bono had a day like this the day he wrote, "Beautiful Day".

And then, my daughter yelled, my dog ran off, dragging me into a ditch and we headed home.... Still, it was, and still is, A Beautiful Day!

I love watching scenes of sessions in English Parliament. You have the two parties sitting opposite each other, a member will stand up and put forward his proposal and is, most often, met with lively disagreement from the other party which in turn spurs equally lively encouragement from his own party. At least that's how it goes if you are proposing something intelligent, I guess. It must be rather harsh when both the opposition and your own party are shouting you down. Why do I love it? The banter, the wit the chaos and emotion that seems to fly in the face of the old "stiff upper lip" adage. It's vibrant and alive and encourages dissent. I love it.

Where I don't particularly appreciate the system is when it's coming from the backseat of my van. I have two opposing parties, constantly trying to get their proposals heard and passed. Interjections like, "It's my turn to speak!" and "You talk too much! I can't tell, Mummum anything!" are frequently heard from the back. Trying to keep order with these lively debaters is also quite challenging when they talk over each other .....
"Susan says that my toy is not real, she says that I am .... a dinosaur! And then the really cool part in the story was when they were running and raptor was chasing them ..... she's lying, Mummum!..... they kicked me out of their club. But who needs their stinking club anyway! I still think it's a real movie!"

All this while trying to concentrate on crazy drivers who want to do silly things like, brake suddenly for absolutely no reason in particular. "Yes, the ABS really does work on this car!" Or after spending the whole afternoon playing "Grand theft Auto" forget that in the "real" world, people actually get hurt when you crash head-on because you are trying a dangerous overtaking move! As well as trying to plan the evening menu and re-prioritizing the afternoon, "help son with biography on Queen Latifah first and then sit down and eat bon-bons."

Who knew that little minds so small can have so much milling around in them. And who would have guessed that I would have such vocal children. Have absolutely no idea where they get it from. It must be from their father's side of the family, because everyone knows that my side of the family are retiring wall-flowers who only ever offer an opinion when asked.

The universe is conspiring against me!!! I am not imagining it - it is true....

For the last couple of months now, I have started an exercise programme. Nothing overly exciting. In fact, one could argue it's not really a programme at all, but nontheless, I have been walking everyday, except for Saturdays or Sunday's. A min of thirty minutes. I have been trying to bump it up a little.

There's two places I love to walk. The first being on my treadmill. It is so convenient. Whenever I feel the urge, which strangely seems to be around about the same time every morning, I just get up, and go work up a sweat on my treadmill while watching something on the telly. The two days a week that Caitlin has preschool, I go walk on the Greenway. It's a network of green nature that has been preserved that extends throughout our town and has lovely running/walking/biking paths that twist and turn and follow the Stones River (known to others as the StoneD River for obvious reasons). Now everything has been going really smoothly until two weeks ago. My treadmill just refused to mill any treading. It would start out fine and then suddenly suffer a motor attack. Yes, the motor speeds up suddenly and races wildly and then suddenly stops, sending me, who was flailing out the back of the contraption up to this point, flying to the front. My wonderful husband took a look at it. Gave it some oil, tightened up some little bolts, ran a couple of tests, and all seem to be fine. Until yesterday. Right around thirty minutes it started having a motor attack again. I am thinking that the oil used was maybe too high in saturated fat or something.

One would think, well at least I have the greenway to fall back on. Indeed, one would think. With the exception of it raining just about every Tuesday and Thursday lately. Or failing rain, then icy winds that give you instant frostbite on your nose and earache so intense that your head feels like exploding. Last week was a double whammy. The Greenway actually was flooded! Can you believe that. So if I had a canoe, I would be set, but sadly, I just had my legs and there is absolutely no swimming allowed in the river. Even if the river has overstepped it's boundaries and is technically invading the walking/running/biking space. Yet, I doggedly look for solutions rather than excuses, which in itself makes me see just how far I've come.

So today, I will once again be heading off to the Greenway. Hoping it is neither flooded nor too frosty to go work up a decent sweat.

By the way, if anyone sees "Murphy", please slap him. His interference is really irksome!
Hope you all have a "Murphy" free day today, and may the only conspiring the Universe does to you bring you much joy.

Right, now where are those walking shoes ...... Londo! NO!!! NOT THE WALKING SHOES!!!!

My animals are strange. Maybe confused is a better word. Nobody seems to have explained to them exactly what is typical behavior for their species or breed and so they seem to be winging it. One would think that doing what came naturally for them would ensure that they behaved in a way that was appropriate for their species/breed, but it would appear not. For example, I have a cat that loves nothing more than to drink from the toilet bowl. There is nothing more delictable to dear Sparky then have a long, cool drink from the toilet. Water bowls, it would appear, are for sissies and he certainly is no sissie. Then there's the way he calls for his humans during the day. He'll follow me around the house like a lost little soul and if he sees I am going to busy in any one room for any length of time, he will sprawl himself out there and have a nap. However, if while he was napping (thankfully a very cat-like thing to do) I have moved on to another area of the house without him detecting the move, when he does finally wake up for his coma, he begins calling - not gentle cat-like meows. Oh no. These are desparate calls similar to my daughter's frantic cries when she wonders off without me and gets herself separated from me. As if that is not enough, when I answer his calls he gives me a meow that implies, "where have you been?" It really is strange. Another odd behavior he has is one we refer to as "the blanky" behavior. I have a faux fur blanket. Sparky loves it and whenever he is feeling really upset with me for moving on without him, I put him on his blanky and everything is all right with his world again. He kneads the blanky with such intensity and purpose. His eyes glaze over and you can see he is not aware of anything else around him right now. Londo could come and sit right on top of him at that moment, and Sparky simply wouldn't care. On particularly bad days, Sparky will also do the "suckling" thing. He will knead the blanket and then start suckling it as well. We all look at each other and in a conspiratal tone explain, "He has suckling issues" to any guests who may be unfortunate enough to witness this rather bizarre behavior.

Londo our bulldog, doesn't seem to understand the traits of his breed very well. It would appear he did not get the memo, or probably, more likely, just didn't bother learning to read and thought the piece of paper was a handy "pee pad" with absolutely no absorbption whatsoever. Why do I say this. Well, according to everything I researched, Bulldogs are not very active dogs. They tend to be couch potatoes and to get them to exercise at all is more exercise for the owner than it is for the dog. There temperaments are calm and loyal. Don't bother trying to teach them to play "fetch" because their thinking is more like, "you threw the darn ball, YOU go fetch it!". Not my bulldog. He is so hyper, he makes a hyper child look calm. His favorite game is fetch. He will play it until he literally drops from exhaustion. Whats really funny is that he tries to tease us with whatever object he wants us to fetch. If it's his squeaky ball, he will squeak it and every time you come near to get it, he will try dogding you until it looks like you've given up and then he will very politely drop it at your feet and then look at you all expectantly, little corkscrew tail winding circlular motions so furiously that he looks like a windup toy (bulldogs can't wag their tails). He also has OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). Everything has to be in its place in his environment. If anything is out of place, he will bark at it until it gets back in its place. He is convinced the ironing-board is out to get him. If his ball or any of this other toys ends up skidding under the ironing board, it stays there for me to retrieve for him because the ironing board is a fierce creature and the only thing in the kitchen more dominant then him. When he plays tug (another favorite game) he likes to use his paws to get the toy away from you. Not very bulldog behavior. Normally bulldogs use their immense strength and really strong jaws to pull it away from you. Not Londo. Sparky seems to have taught him to use his front paws and so he does - because he is half cat after all - it says so right there on his birth certificate under father!! He is also unbearably ticklish. No seriously. He has a hard time just enjoying a good tummy rub because he is so tickilish on his belly. When you do try, his little legs flay around frantically and he wiggles and squirms and eventually tries to gently pull your hand away, and then, once you've stopped, will promptly lie on his back again and ask you to do it all over again. Really sad.

My husband's theory is that any animals we own will always be, "odd". We've had a cat that never landed on her feet, always fell on her back. And another one who liked to play like a dog. It might be that we are so odd that it rubs off on our animals - no that can't possibly be it. After all we are terribly sane. One might even say, boringly sane!

Off to wake up the children now - a new day of strangeness has yet to unfold.

Have you ever felt disconnected? Meeting new people and starting new friendships seem to be too daunting to even consider? This is what I have been contemplating lately. I feel disconnected. Forming new relationships seem just too much trouble. Getting to know folks requires letting yourself be known to them. Teaching them, in a manner of speaking, who you are and what makes you tick. Normally the whole process is fairly enjoyable especially when your efforts are reciprocated. Maybe that's the real key to the frustration and disconnectedness I feel. The lack of reciprocation. How many times have you had folks tell you, "We should get to together and have a cup of coffee" or, "You should call me some time and we can do such-and-such together", only never to be successful in finding a time or place that seems to work for everybody involved or phoning just to be made to feel like you are foolish for not realizing that "You should call me some time ....." really was code for, "Don't bother calling because we have nothing in common and I couldn't be bothered spending time with you....."

Made me wonder just how many people are out there feeling the same way. Living their lives, chatting to people they know, but never really reaching out to others outside their regular circle of friends or acquaintances. I have responsibility in making sure that I am connected. Being courageous enough to be transparent with people and to let them near regardless of how scary the whole prospect may seem. Forging on despite rejection and fear and insecurities. Why? Because we need each other in this life. We all have something to contribute to the world and to each other. We all can learn from each other. We are not so low that we are not worthy or so high that we are above needing the satisfaction and comfort real connection with another human being brings.

So I find myself feeling a little like someone in the 1940's still using those phones that had to go through an operator. Clacking my little cradle, but not getting any response, until finally, "Operator. Who would you like to connect with?" At that point I have a choice - hang up, or make a connection. Hopefully this week, I will choose the latter.

It finally snowed. Not a whole lot, but enough for the schools to have a "snow day" and for us to have a rollicking snowball fight in. There was even enough to build a small snowman. He was named Joriel - a compromise between Joe (the standard name my son gives everything) and Ariel (the standard name my daughter gives everything since watching The Little Mermaid).

Why, folks ask me, do you like snow so much? It's hard to answer in an articulate way. It's the sound fresh powder makes when you walk on it. A muffled "crunch" that sends happy chills all through my soul. Even better though is how it feels. Yes it's a sound you can feel. The powder compacting under your feet. Even more gratifying than popping bubble wrap. Or the way snow insulates everything like cotton wool. Muffling sound so that when it's been a heavy snowfall, you often can hear it has snowed before even looking out a window. Everything sounds close and free of echoes. More amazing is how it transforms landscapes. Even the most familiar surroundings look foreign and strange. Yes, there is much I love about snow. Some of my American friends wonder why I would like it so much. I guess it makes sense for them to be a little confused. An african loving something that cold and that wet. Maybe it is exactly because it is so vastly different from anything I have experienced that I love it so much.

Snow brings with it "added benefits". There's putting on the fire. Being hypnotized by the flames flickering and trying to name as many of the shapes the shadows make. My fireplace seems to favor the avian community (the feathered type not the water kind). A cup of Hot Chocolate or Earl Grey tea after a heated snowball fight. Feeling the warm liquid warming up your body. Nothing like it in the world.

Yes, I really love snow and so it is with grateful heart that I say, "Thanks" to God's weather department for finally fixing the glitch. You know the glitch that caused winter not to be winter at all and places like Southern California to have snow. Yes, that glitch. So now that all has been set aright in my little world, spring can go ahead and happily sprung. According to Fred the Groundhog, it will within the next six weeks.

Today I am a little miffed. Last week they had snow in MALIBU!! Southern California. And what have we had here in Tennessee???? Mild temperatures that have confused the bulbs and trees so that some have started blooming! It is obvious to me that someone in God's weather department has gone on vacation and they have a temp doing the job at the moment. What else can explain Tennessee's mild, mild winter and California's snow.

For those of you who don't know, Southern California is known for it's mild climate. There are no real seasons there, it's just pleasant all year round. Here in Tennessee, that's one of the things I love most - the very specific seasons that each have their place and each bring their own beauty in turn. But not this year - oh no. This year we have skipped over winter. This year winter has decided not to come for an extended stay, rather to just drop in and visit every now and then. I feel completely deprived - no snow, save for five flurries that fluttered down one afternoon in Novemeber for literally a minute!! No, No this will simply not do.

This misbehaving weather is causing all kinds of problems. Citrus crops in California have been destroyed as have many of the vegetable crops so we have been informed to brace ourselves for higher prices on produce. Great! Just what this country needs, another excuse not to eat healthy! And that's not all. It has caused traffic snarls at airports and on roads in Colorado - even causing deaths, while ski resorts elsewhere can't even make fake snow because it's too warm and so the towns that would normally have benefited from business are not.

It's amazing just how very important something as mundane as "weather" really is. We don't think about it much, but it can cause as much upheaval, economic and social distress as any war, and yet we don't pay it too much attention.

I for one would like the temp working in God's weather Department, fired immediately. Winter needs to return to it's rightful place here in TENNESSEE and not in MALIBU, and snow needs to be shared amongst all of us in the country. Colorado is being unnecessarily greedy!!!blog

Bugs are nasty things. I am sure that Steve Irwin would disagree with me, and declare them "gorgeous sweethearts", but to me they are just ..... well, narly. They creep and crawl and seem to enjoy really disgusting stuff, like dung and other insects. Not very nice at all.

This past week, I have had my fill with bugs. Not the insect kind, more the viral kind. My daughter started pre-school last Tuesday. She only attends twice a week. Thursday would be her second day there. I anticipated that she may be exposed to a few more little "cooties" than normal, but I anticipated any such exposure to happen some time down the line. Not on Thursday. I was called to the school to take my fever ridden offspring home. The poor little girl, did look thoroughly miserable and not all like herself. She had been a little whiny that morning while dressing for school, but I put it down to having a bad night the night before. But it would appear that it was a bug. One that produces never ending streams of ...... well you know, stuff, as well as fever, excess tears and horrible irritability. So there I was battling some little bug for my daughter. I wanted her back to her old self again, and this little unseen critter seemed to think that it could set up shop indefinitely. On Friday it brought out the big guns. It stole her voice. The plan backfired some, because this at least prevented her from engaging in one of her really high-pitched screams she loves to endulge in whenever her brother annoys her. One could say that instead of alarming us, this was one little manifestation we welcomed. This morning's one was less welcoming though. A hacking cough. No, that one certainly is not welcome and so it was off to the doctor again to try and find a "bug potion" that would irradicate this little menace once and for all. While it cannot irradicate the little blighter altogether, it can make life a little more bearable for it's tiny host, which in turn makes my life a little more bearable too. But then the computer got it too. Indeed! On Saturday emergency surgery was done to try and save all the systems, but alas to no avail. Windows died a horrible, slow death, which means that I now have a really odd looking ornament downstairs in my living room. I have been banished to using the kid's computer upstairs. It has Linux installed, which it would appear, has an incredibly robust immune system and is therefore less suseptible to bugs and better able to recover in the event of catching something. I wish I could just spray a can of insecticide at it - something really ominous like DOOM. One Squirt and all bugs are gone and order is restored to my life. But alas no. Some bugs have to work their way out of the system, and other's are a little more fatal. So I guess it's just a matter of getting plenty fluids in and good rest .... I wonder if that works for computers as well?

Why are New Year's Resolutions so ..... irresolute? I mean, the very word "resolution" sounds so strong, steadfast, firm, why then are the actions that supposedly describe such a "resolute" word seem so ..... wishy-washy.

The very definition of the word sounds very firm and unmoving too. I actually went and look it up.

RESOLUTION:
1. a formal expression of opinion or intention made, usually after voting, by a formal organization, a legislature, a club, or other group. Compare concurrent resolution, joint resolution.
2. a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.
3. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.
4. the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose.
5. the act or process of resolving or separating into constituent or elementary parts.
6. the resulting state.
8. a solution, accommodation, or settling of a problem, controversy, etc.

It's in definition no.1 that I first thought I may have spied the problem. Anytime you have a committee voting on getting something done, you run into problems. It is my feeling that this is what happens in an individual's mind during the resolution process. Present at the resolution passing meeting are Me, I and Myself. They are able to agree on what needs to be resolved and so they are quick to agree on that, but it is the how that they start having trouble with. Me interpreted the resolution start date to mean immediately, while I thought that too unrealistic and that next week would be far more practical and feasible. Myself decided that a feasibility investigation be done first to ascertain when a good start date would be. Me decides he is the chairman, his vote carries more weight and so he charges into the fray, but soon finds that I has set all kinds of little contingencies in place to slow the whole process down. Myself has decided to wait for the feasibility investigation to run it's course before making any decisions at all. And so, an average of 3-11 days later, the resolution that was passed, has been effectively made void and life goes on.

This had me wondering: Does this mean that it is impossible for a person to change? I don't think it impossible, but I have found that there are some nagging areas in my life that do seem to be rather stubborn. Or maybe I secretly like them because I feel they give me my identity and changing them means changing my identity ..... Whatever it is, experts say that for any resolution to work, it has to be actionable. In other words there has to be a workable plan with well defined goals that can be achieved and measured and more than all that, you are going to need lots of patience and persistence. It requires commitment to the process of change and a firm belief that you are worth it.

When I was a little girl, I had a very strange fascination with "plasters" (band-aids). Every time I would go visit my grandparents, I would be sure to show them all the cuts and bruises I had accumulated since my last visit and make sure that every single one, or at least, the ones I deemed to be very serious, were covered with a plaster. It couldn't be just any plaster either. I liked the ones that came in those variety boxes. You know the ones that have the little round ones for shaving nicks, little square ones for when you run out of the little round ones, the large square ones (my favorites) and then the regular ones. I can still even remember what those boxes used to smell like. Now in the beginning I mentioned that it was a "strange" fascination. It was strange because while I loved the applying of said plaster to my owee, I most certainly did not enjoy the ripping off said plaster when it was time for the owee "to breathe". Those old band-aids seem to have glue that felt like it took at least two to three layers of skin off as it ripped off your arm. My grandmother would always assure me that doing it faster is better. One day she finally tired of me putting up a fuss, and let me try to pull off the plaster all by myself. I tried to pull it off nice and slowly, but what would you know, but my dear old "Ma" was right. The quick rrrripppp I hated so much was much better!

The reason I bring up the love of plasters, is my daughter seems to have they same love for a "band-aid". For the tiniest scratch, fresh or old, she comes displaying her best crocodile tears as she shows me her "booboo" and then in her most saddest little voice says, "it's bleeding, Mum-mum. It needs a band-aid." It always makes me smile because it makes me think of my parents and grandparents, who must have spent a small fortune in plasters over the years to take care of all my "booboos" - both real and imagined. This morning we had one such incident happen. Caitlin was playing with Sparky our cat. Sparky became annoyed and apparently scratched her. I say apparently because I was standing right next to her and did not see the cat make any such move towards her and when she showed me the injured finger, there was nothing on it, but my tearful daughter insisted that the finger had been hurt, and indeed was gushing blood and she was going to die any minute now. A band-aid would make her feel much better. I gave her a hug and a kiss and told her that I would get a band-aid for her in a little while. Then I wondered, how much of what our children do is genetically encoded and how much is environment? The more I thought about it the more I started seeing things like the way my son whistles through his teeth just like his Uncle. Even though he has little not no real contact with his uncle, yet there are times when he is whistling through his teeth that he sounds just like my brother-in-law and I have to remind myself that said family member lives too far away to be standing right in my kitchen that very instant. They way my daughter loves to make up little songs all day long about the things she is doing, even hauls out her little baby keyboard to try and hammer out a tune to accompany it. The way our son tilts his head when he is thinking of something really important, just like his dad does.

I am the proud owner to two pets. A cat, who suffers from some suckling issues, and a bulldog. What can I say, it's the eventful life for me. I am also someone who has a hard time getting up in the mornings. Always have been, as my mother will attest to. It is something I had hoped to outgrow in adulthood, but just never had. Don't misunderstand me, that does not mean that I am able to languish away in bed all day. Heavens no! I have two children on top of the two animals. It would appear that I have trouble with the earlier hours of the morning. In other words, everything prior to seven-thirty in the morning is some what of a challenge for me. Therein lies my dilemma. My son's school day starts at seven-thirty so I have to be up by no later than six-thirty. To ensure that I make this harsh deadline, I set my alarm for five am. It gives me and hour to hit snooze. By the fourth time of hitting the snooze button, I am usually awake enough to greet the day with a cheerful, "Good morning" as opposed to an irritated "grumph". Every mother knows how vital it is to have a good attitude to start your day as your attitude can influence the attitudes your children have for their day. Trust me there is nothing worse than a grumpy four-year old.

This morning my day started somewhat differently. Both my animals have these internal clocks that go off at around six-thirty in the morning. It is the all important feeding and potty time. Sparky is normally the first up. He does his enormous yawn (that leaves you in awe of how wide that little mouth is when it's fully flexed), stomps down the wooden ladder from my son's bunk bed and then continues the stomping down the passage into the master bedroom. Meowing as he goes. Not just a straight forward meow, but one that has tone inflection. It starts shaky and soft, "meow" then followed by a meeow?, mee-oww-wow all singy songy like and finally MEEOWW!!! If the last meow was not enough to get you to free yourself from your warm bed, he then initiates stage two. Trodding all over your sensitive bits while repeating the first offensive. If you have succeeded in ignoring both offensives, the third one is bound to work. He continues with his first offensive until he is able to wake up Londo, our bulldog (it takes a while because it's hard for him to hear anything over his loud snoring), who then joins in with his loud and pathetic whining. At which point you are now so irritated, there is just no point in trying to stay in bed. During the week this is a good thing because I use it as my "fall back" plan. However, over weekends, not so cute! Back to my story.

This morning Sparky started with offensive one but at five in the morning!!! Somehow the silly feline's internal clock became confused and woke him up an whole hour early. I tried desperately to call him into my bedroom to his "blanky" which normally helps to sooth him and gets him to settle down again. To no avail. The meowing became all the more louder and persistent, which finally woke up Londo. Now I was committed whether I liked it or not because Londo has to be let out when he wakes up or else you have a big mess on your hands, and who likes to deal with that before your morning coffee? Certainly not me. So there I was at five-thirty this morning, walking my dog and cat. Yes, I said cat. He insists on following us and so they both get walked.

After all ablutions had been completed, we returned home where the all important feeding commenced and was suitably vacuumed up with all the comical noises that accompany such vacuuming by our bulldog. And what did I do? Well, the only thing I could do that early in the morning. Sloempfed upstairs, and curled up in my warm bed so I could at least make it to hitting the last snooze button of the morning!

This is my first time ever "blogging". So to the experienced "pro's" out there, I apologize in advance for my novice attempts at this. From what I understand about "blogging", it is merely a platform for people to post their views and thoughts of their lives and the world as they see it. I guess that's the attraction of it. You don't need to be a "pro" to do it.

I was watching the late news with my husband the other night as we always do, when an alarming news piece about "cyber criminals" cooking up diabolical plans to infect our computer, steal our information and use our great credit rating until it hits zero, flashed onto our small TV screen. The anchor woman, in as serious tone of voice as she could muster, went on to say that these "cyber criminals" had warned that 2007 was the year of wreaking havoc on all us unsuspecting cyber travelers. In essence what she was saying was, "be afraid, be very afraid."

I looked at my husband with utter disbelief. Why is it that the news media have to find stuff to make us afraid of. Why can we not just be given one evening of looking forward to the prospect of a better year than the one we just had. It's almost as if the powers that be are concerned that we are simply too "happy-go-lucky", that they would be doing us a terrible disservice by not showing us more and more things to be afraid of. My father always said of worry and fear, that half of everything we worry and fret about, never happens, so whats the point of worrying? Seems to me it's a waste of time and energy to worry about what might happen, instead of engaging in what is happening right now.

So I would like to wish everyone a very Happy, Blessed and Prosperous 2007. Yes, we don't know what the year holds for us, and yes that can be a little scary depending on where you are in your life right now, but that's what I love about the New Year. It's an opportunity to take stock, revise and try something better.