Lost in Antarctica

I have just returned from an adventure at the Really REALLY Big Discount Store. You may know it well. The turn-out there after midnight can be quite frightening and appealing at the same time.

But I am not that brave today, so I ventured out during the middle of the day to find myself contemplating potted poinsettias before Thanksgiving, and standing in line for a REALLY long time. It was somewhere near the Duck Dynasty paper holiday plates and children's toys that kept yammering at me when I passed, that I realized I was talking out loud to myself.

Fine. I've pushed beyond the boundaries of sanity and all it took was a trip to the Really REALLY Big Discount Store. There may be a good reason for pondering out loud over fake chambray shirts and candles that smelled like wood smoke.

First, the mere size of the store is daunting. I used a map to make my way through the aisles, something akin to what boat captains use to navigate shipping lanes.

That was after I hiked through the treacherous parking lot with its many, many Really REALLY Big vehicles. You know the ones. They have names like Adventurer, Armada, TankerShip and ReallyREALLYBigSUV. They are notoriously driven by petite mothers hauling a lone, wispy child in a car seat. I always think the child looks forlorn with a face that screams, "Help me! This vehicle is TOO big."

My haul for the day?  Butter, coffee creamer, garlic bread and a hefty bottle of windshield wiper fluid. (As if that will save my aging Volvo sedan.)

Why do I go there? Well to save money, of course. Isn't that why we all go there to save on four pitiful items?

I'm positive I've saved enough for my daughter's college tuition now.

Making Amends to the Past

"It is the highest form of self-respect to admit our errors and mistakes and make amends for them. To make a mistake is only an error in judgment, but to adhere to it when it is discovered shows infirmity of character."

Found this gem of a quote right when I find myself in a very reflective state. I've been thinking about the past and people I may have wronged.  I'm sure we all do this from time to time.

Yet I'm stuck at a point despite my attempts to move forward from ugly situations or periods of time in my life that I'd live to resolve and, yes, forget. 

It's not that I don't have enough reminders.  "Don't look back. You're not going that way" is posted in a sunset watercolored background mini-poster on my bathroom mirror. My right foot sports a quotation tattoo I got shortly after my marriage dissolved: "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."  Thank you, Ghandi.

Forward. Ahead. The future. Always pushing to a new and greater tomorrow. Yet . . . except for a lifetime of VERY happy memories, I never really take time to ponder those I've hurt or ignored, employers I may have disappointed or family members I've never apologized to for an infraction--no matter how minor.

I'm told that in Alcoholics Anonymous, Step Nine in the 12-Step Program focuses solely on amends for crimes, debts or emotional harm done. The Big Book of Recovery even lists examples of possible letters of amends to make it easier for those in recovery.  I can only imagine how difficult this must be for someone in addiction at Step Nine and so close to program completion, to think long and hard about those they feel they must apologize to or make resolution. 

I'm having a difficult time as well, and feel to really move ahead.  I must say I'm sorry. I am, and I will. 

Obligation to Blog

You have my permission to skip this mess.

Yep. It's just what it says. This is a blog I feel obligated to write because I've been such a slacker. And my head has felt post-Hiroshima for the past four days. My apologies to the people of Japan for any offense. My apologies about Hiroshima in general.

I've decided that the headache and lack of writing, thereof, are simply due to a head filled with too many things. Ideas for magazine articles, books I want to write, books I've started to write and not finished, journaling I want to accomplish, setting up my new iPhone properly, wondering about Memorial Day plans, worrying about my children, worry about my love life, an innate desire to buy jewelry, an even greater desire to make jewelry for which I have no time, an online course I'm tackling and responsibilities to social media clients to which I lend a hand.

That's a plausible excuse for not blogging, right? Bo-log-na. Writing for me every day is as natural as brushing my teeth or really more like cleaning the cat's box.....which I don't do every day, I admit. So what's the holdup? Never writer's block. More like writer's laze. And if you don't do it every day, you get sloppy. And when you get sloppy, you write obligated blog. So skip this, and I'll be back fresh as a daisy before you know it. Ciao.

When Did Trending Become a Verb?

Trending now on Yahoo.....Kim Kardashian, student loans billow, Obama Clinton beef, FaceBook stock, Lauryn Hill's ex, Kelly Preston. And trending on CNN: airbrushed photos, "mommy porn" pulled from Florida bookshelves, and roller derby.

Trending on this blog: Nausea from all this trending.

Do I really need people to tell me what's hot right now....what's "trending"? And when did the word trend even start becoming a verb. Apparently, a long time ago. It's the latest trend.

According to Merriam-Webster's online dictionary, trending can certainly be used as an intransitive verb -- the definition being to show a tendency or deflection or to veer in a certain direction. In the past we've primarily heard it used to describe weather patterns or the economy.  "The prices are trending upward."  "The prevailing winds are trending east-northeast.

Now on the news, we're constantly told what's trending now. Like we are cattle that needs to be trending in a certain direction.  The next time I hear a newscaster tell me what's trending, I will scream.

Apparently, because of the Internet we, as a collective group of cattle, like this trending trend. We want to know what is hot and buzzing -- and we want it now. Instant gratification wins out! Apparently describing people, events and items as trending is not leaving us anytime soon. It's the new buzzword, and unfortunately we're stuck with it.

Google has even gone so far as to add a Google Trend search option. My check one minute ago shows that trending in the U.S. right now: Dancing With the Stars, NCIS: Los Angeles, the solar eclipse, Brevard County, flesh-eating bacteria and The Preakness.  There. You were hip for maybe a minute, if that. Google's option lets you see what's hot in a gazillion areas right now and on which Web sites. It does so by measuring the hottest searches on any particular site, including it's on search engine.

For example, the coolest, up-to-the minute recipes trending on allrecipes.com right now are: chicken salad, egg salad, asparagus, quiche, tilapia, pork chops, coleslaw and pasta.  How could you have possibly gone on with your day with knowing what foods are trending. I don't know about you, but I'm making pasta salad with pork, tilapia and asparagus tonight.

Trending right now in Europe? The Olympic torch run was a "farce" say newspapers/public, Greece is setting up elections despite bank panics, everything you wanted to know about sunscreen and Why I hate my face. Ten FaceBook tips are trending high on Twitter right now.  Oh wait, now that is so five minutes ago. Moving on......

Pinterest is Crack

I have found myself in the deepest throes of social media addiction.Calling for an intervention, please. The white flag has been raised. Pray for my salvation.

The little demon?  Pinterest.

Have you succumbed to this little devil -- the third largest social media site around?

Here, you get to "collect" and "pin" all of the wonderful things in life that are important to you. Like 60 ways to tie a scarf. Or recipes for dog biscuits. The idea is that this giant bulletin board of sorts is available to you 24/7 the minute you need  inspiration from  a powerful quote to the nanosecond you must make an alphabet of "rubber" stamps using a 10 lb. bag of potatoes.

Wait, there's a quote I must print, and a necklace from felt flowers I swear I will make. Next I'm pinning DIY sorority frames,  a wreath made from old book pages, a way to make your own canvas art (scurrying off to find Mod Podge!), a set of napkin rings for Christmas, a cool way to cut a t-shirt that my daughters will love, a picture of a hot guy, a quote about getting my life together (helloooooo?), earrings made from typewriter keys, braided headbands, knitted headbands, flower headbands, a jewelry organizer made from broken twigs, canisters made from rusty coffee cans and next it's flowery pins made from old tea bags and scarves from recycled newspapers or a really nifty way to tattoo myself with a old safety pin. I mean green is good. But come on! This has to stop.

I am blindly following other people on this journey as I find the savvy pinners who really share my taste. And then, wait, there are folks blindly following me. Seeking out what I'm pinning -- from corsets I love to jewelry to crafts to quotes to wedding ideas for my young daughters (wrong on so many levels) to a few recipes to more crafts I swear I will make. Stop. It is like crack.

My time is so much more valuable than pinning bits and pieces from all over the Internet. Right?  I could be writing more blogs or developing a business plan for a client or checking on old friends at FaceBook or following Adam Levine on Twitter. I have important things to do, people! And Pinterest is sucking the life out of my day. Do you hear that giant vacuuming sound?

BTW, did you know that Chik-Fil-A sweet tea and Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies also contain crack? I'm just saying . . .

A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Today my daughter turns 19. She's home from college for the summer, having completed her freshman year.

I'm simply stunned at those two sentences.

When you have your first child, there are so many well-meaning and wise mothers (and fathers) that give you good advice. The best was "enjoy it all, because it will go so quickly."  Hey, they weren't kidding. It feels like yesterday when we celebrated 18 years and watched her walk across a stage to collect her high school diploma. But it feels like hours ago when I first held her in my arms. She was nine-days-old and a tiny, tiny premature baby. I had waited so patiently, worrying constantly as I sat by her isolette in the neonatal intensive care unit. "Can I hold her today?" I'd ask the nurses every single day since my daughter arrived early.

Finally the day came that I was able to cradle her in my arms. Those skilled, loving nurses maneuvered IV lines, a gastric line and a nasal cannula for oxygen just so I could hold my two-pound sweetie all swaddled in blankets. I sat in the rocking chair and cooed over her, urging her to fight and grow. And I cried again as I had been doing since her birth. I was young and scared of losing my little girl. The NICU was a scary place and the doctors and nurses rushed about constantly. We got very little information.

But these tears were different. These were tears of joy as I held her. Tears of pride that I was a new mother holding her baby, and thinking I "had grown up."  Ha! If I only knew how much more I had to learn.

When I am down or distressed, I often think of the moment I first held my child, not right at birth, but later when she was stabilized.  I think of the calming effect that moment had on my frayed nerves. I sat proudly in a rocking chair right next to her isolette and rocked gently so as not to startle her. We could have been the only two people in the world at that moment -- and probably were. I looked into her blue eyes and thought, "I love you more than anything and always will." Now I realize it's a little thing called unconditional love.

Nineteen years later, I still hold that unconditional love and I always will. Sure we scuff with our children as they age, we take jabs at one another or find a toddler exasperating at times. But that cool, calm, unconditional love is just always beneath the surface. And it always, always will be there. Life is just good like that.

So here's to a crazy little thing called "love." Happy birthday, baby. I love you more than anything.

To All The Mothers and Their Mothers and Their Mothers Before Them

"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie."

 ~Tenneva Jordan

Huh?  I don't think so! I like my  pie too much for such nonsense. 

Today I blog about Mother's Day because if I didn't someone might shoot me or land an airplane on me. Oh, wait that might happen anyway! Seriously just because my mother's current husband is an airline pilot...... I do have good wishes for all the mothers in the world today, and as a mother myself, dammit, we deserve this day!

Forget the tender memories of labor, birth and the first time I held you in my arms. We can ponder that 364 days out of the year, and probably still are paying for that labor and birth with scars and pain. Today should be a day when you are simply Queen for The Day. That's right. I said it. Queen for The Day. That means the following activities are not fit for royalty:

Laundry (don't you do it!)

Preparing a meal

Using stain remover in any way, shape or form

Picking up dog poop

Cleaning lint from the dryer (get away from the laundry facilities!)

Cleaning lint from your belly button

Running the dishwasher

Watching any children's shows on Nickel0deon,  Disney or other

Wiping off counters

Texting a teenager

Waiting in any type of carpool line....Sunday School or Nursery School included

Sitting through any interminable sports practice

Brushing anyone's teeth, even your own

Wiping anyone's behind

Feeling like you must "do" your nails or toenails

Helping with Algebra 3 or Physics homework

Getting out of bed

So there. You're free. Go about your own royal duties, and practice your wave. Happy Mother's Day!