Swingin'

This week my mood is swinging. Less than a swing really, more like a sway. 

Have you ever had one of those weeks? Where it is just off for you?  Can’t rally, can’t wallow.  Don’t really want to call it a low, as its more like a...oh,  I don’t know, when you are walking along and there’s a change in the terrain and you sort of sink for a second.  Like mole runs.  

I have been watching a show in which a character develops Alzheimer’s.  Its so sad and it brought back some personal sadness for me.  The show is kind of dark and gloomy all around, actually.  

I think I need to pop in a Disney movie.  

Cow manure anyone?

Today is one of those gloomy days.  One that makes you think there is no such thing as the sun or bright colors, and draws you to stay snuggled in a big bed with fluffy covers. 

Snap out of it.  

There’s always something to do, even on these gloomy days.  Today, for example, I looked down near the lakeshore to where I have a couple small flower boxes.  I weeded these boxes over the weekend.  I also took advantage of the cooler, sunny day and dumped out the garden cart, cleaned off some tools, emptied a couple of cow manure bags, black dirt bags and the like of the dredges that remained,  laid things out on the lawn to “dry out”.   Inventoried what I had left over,  what I might need to purchase.  Nearly full cow manure bag, full bag of top soil.  That will be enough for some other small projects near the house.  Set those aside, tool caddy empty and shaken out, animal nest of at least two pair of my jersey work gloves thrown out...need new gloves.  Left the garden cart, one of my favorite things, in the sunshine to receive some air and for the dirt clods to dry so I could easily sweep it.

This morning, naturally, I looked down to where my garden cart is left in the field, its sunny spot replaced by a torrent of rain.  I did not want my garden cart to get wet, to become swollen with moisture! I did not want my tools to be strewn about, now near floating as the rain creates puddles in my yard, to become rusty and gross.   I certainly did not want the plastic bag of cow manure, with an ever so small opening, to turn into heavy liquid mush.   Why oh why is it raining again today? 

Find some rubber sandals, tredge down to the lakeside, attempt to empty the cart of standing water, pull it, yank it, through my now soaking yard; would have been much easier yesterday, when it was dry and breezy.  Into the barn, where I have been left no room to roll my cart in and out, but squeeze it in after turning it on its end, banging against my shin only twice.  If I were a cartoon character, and somedays I think I am, I would have one of those bubbles with @#&%#$@ above my drenched head.  

Faced now with the heavily laden cow manure and top soil issue, the assortment of tools, empty pots and what was once  fertilizer granules, I hear thunder and I chuck whatever plan I had brewing for salvaging what I could.   Eh, it will be there tomorrow, having left  big yellow patches in my lawn, but I’ll get my garden cart out and go load that stuff up. 

Stories. Yours, mine, ours.

When I started thinking about a blog a couple years back, there were particular topics rolling around in my noggin’ that I thought I would write about.  Creating a name, thinking about what was important to me, chimed in.  Being able to look out of my window, both at the big picture and my little corner of it came into play.  Then there is the whole looking inward thing, you know, Cindi’s window into Cindi, and ta-daa.  (Did you think it was only about looking out that window?)

As it turns out, some of the topics no longer interest me.  Some of the “fire” of the topics has simply become stale or stupid, to be frank, so I think they would not interest you, either.  Coupled with this is my true desire to be somewhat entertaining.  I like being entertaining. I think of myself as a storyteller, although not accomplished particularly, I love a good story.  I love the retelling of a good story, and hearing a good story.   

I think this is the old lady that I want to become.  The one that gathers all the little children to her feet and tells some great story, that will keep them enraptured for about a half hour.  Some may say I already am this person.  I kept many a kid at least  interested in a particular experience or two along my life’s highway and I really enjoyed it when they would share one of theirs with me.  Usually wasn’t a law breaker - those I think they kept to themselves or shared with friends.  I’m kinda grateful, as if any of them did have something illegal to tell me, well, I would have been heavily burdened on how to move forward, both with them and with their parents!  As it were, it was mainly about romances and relationships, but also just fun, goofy stuff.  

I have some nieces and nephews and I love to hear their stories.   I wish I had more of their time so that I could pull details out and watch them come alive with storytelling.  I love to hear my niece giggle as she sets aside her teenage isolation to become an active participant in family conversation.  I truly enjoy a favorite (should I call one a favorite among several? Well, he is, I can’t help it!) nephew squirm when he realizes he has revealed too much and may have just stepped over a line.  But, he’ll figure it out.  Like his growth spurts, his mouth spurts are unpredictable at times.  He steps in it more often than around it, and it is, right now, part of his charm.  

As kids turn in to young adults, and having had a few bruises and bumps along the way, they often turn reluctant to remember, to share.   Getting their stories out is one of my favorite things.   Talking to strangers is another.  I have learned so much from strangers.   I like to go to museums or displays or flea markets...whatever... and instead of just walking by ask questions and wait for the story.  There are too many that will walk by, nod their head and let the story remain untold.   Adults don’t ask.  It’s funny when we see adults prod little Johnny or Sally to ask questions they themselves really want to know the answer to!  Ask.  That person did not set up that display, or volunteer to work that table so we will all walk by as uninformed after passing as we were upon approaching.  Ask!  Tell!  

Bring it on, Grandma!

I LOVE my children.  I mean, I seriously love them.   When my friends and family became grandmothers one by one, I was often told “Just wait.  You won’t believe it.”, I admit I thought to myself “Really? How different can it be? I LOVE my children”.  

Well, from the moment this first little blonde head popped into my life I am a flag waving member of that “Just wait...you won’t believe it” group.  I don’t believe it.  I don’t believe the joy she brings to me and hubs.  I don’t believe how she makes the faces of others light up with delight.  I don’t believe the look in my daughter’s eyes as she talks about her, or my son-in-law’s pure affection for her.  I don’t believe I am the grandmother to this beauty.  I don’t believe how I ache to see her and almost run her grandfather over to be the first to get to her.  I don’t believe I could be any more fulfilled.  

I also don’t believe the way she looks at me.  She loves me.  She finds me funny.  Told me yesterday, in fact, “You funny, Gigi”.  I am so thrilled with her, and with my daughter, that I could almost explode.  I am entertained by my husband rolling around on the floor with her, and her squeals and giggles.  When she cries and sticks her lower lip out because things don’t go her way, I can’t help but chuckle, even when she is in deep with Mama.  

But! I have a new grandbaby on the way and more to follow, of this I am sure!   I am so looking forward to more joy, more disbelief, more, more and more.  I know the capacity to love is great in me!  I AM READY! 

I

What was that you said?

I started training to service a new virtual client. It has been a while since I have been challenged and I’m glad I took this on but it has meant that my days have been very, very long.

I told hubs about two weeks ago this was going to be a very stressful time, and I wasn’t wrong. I’ve put in 14 to 15 hour days at the computer and while I understand that sounds glamorous, it is so not. I am tired. My eyes are tired, my butt is tired and my feet are swollen. This is not, my friends, even remotely glamorous!

The scheduling of this training has been difficult because I also continue to work a certain number of hours in order to keep my budget in line, and is why the days have been long. This is the drawback of working for yourself, working from home. My training is at my expense. When I say yes to a new project, I pay for it. I also pay for my own sick time, vacation time, personal leave and that sort of thing. Guess who doesn’t have benefits?

Poor hubs has eaten well this week but not exactly served in style, nor early. He’s seen me in the same pair of flannel pants for four days at least and we won’t even start on my hair. He asked me one night if it was worth it as I don’t seem to “have a life”. Well, I pointed out, I told you it was going to be a very stressed two weeks. It’s been five days.

This is a recurring issue in our discussions. He has no sense of time when it comes to this kind of thing. Five days is not two weeks. Two weeks of a stressful schedule is not equal to not “having a life”. No, this is, as I have discovered through our years of marriage, his way of telling me there is something HE needs.

This afternoon, I had enough of my very long week and changed the last half of my day. Sent an email to hubs letting him know there would be a square meal this evening. I was pooped; I needed a break but so did he. It has been a long five days, and there will be more long days ahead but tonight, it was time to put up my feet, have a glass of red wine and enjoy a perfectly grilled steak. Anyone that has been married or in a relationship for any length of time knows you have to listen for and respond to the cues.

Not my kid.

Many blog posts ago I mentioned a group of lady friends that I have.  We’ve known each other for a long time now and have rallied, cheered and prayed each other through some great, and not so great times.  I have to say, though, more great than not.  We have kids the same ages and its been fun, to say the least.  

Of the original 10 members (we now boast 11), our youngest just graduated from college with her four year nursing degree.  This is our baby...the one we all carried around at some point, or sat in the nursery with, when she was the only baby there.  She was a chubby, beautiful, sparkly treat.  

I felt somewhat grown up when my own baby graduated from college, then got married.  As I looked at a few pictures from the youngest Yada (yes, we do have a name...) baby’s graduation, I felt really progressed.  Advanced aged.  I remember sitting with her on my lap and singing over the sparkly diamond on her little lacy anklets, while her blonde curls danced.  Now here’s a picture of her with her sparkly blue eyes and brilliant smile in a grown girl’s face.   

I am blessed with a great group of ladies, and their families.  I have had amazing experiences and adventures with them.  They entrusted their children to me on a variety of occasions, events and excursions.  I’ve sat up late with many of those children and heard their dreams, listened to them as they questioned their place, celebrated with them as they achieved a goal.  I would not trade those times for silver or gold...they are precious to me.  I watch (cause that’s what I do) as they move onward in their lives, no longer a part of their week or weekend, but as dedicated to them as I have ever been, still cheering. 

Allowing me to love your children...thanks ladies.  That’s more valuable to me than you may ever know.  

Wow.

Sunday night I, along with all of you, received news.  By now everyone knows that Obama announced the capture and death of Osama.  I felt my heart quicken and know an audible gasp escaped my lips when the interruption came through on a favorite evening broadcast.  I really can not reconcile all the thoughts that continue to race through my mind, and well, the days ahead will tell the story and the future of this great nation begins anew.  

I thought our President delivered the news with class and confidence.  I think of the times that I have tried to keep a secret and how difficult it is!   I get so excited, emotional or exasperated I feel I might pop.  How was this kept a secret? How did Mr. Obama go about his business, even a party? That’s nerves of steel, my friends. 

So many brave young people, so much time.  I am not an overtly political person and there is so much we don’t know about the last 10 years or the 100 years that preceded.  I wish I had kept an email that was sent to a co-worker of mine from her son-in-law who was serving in Iraq shortly after September 11.  The picture attachment is something I will never forget, as the smiling young soldier stood by a downed billboard.  On one half of the billboard was a crude representation, almost a cartoon,  of planes flying into two towers, with flames shooting out windows.  On the other half,  a caricature of Saddam Hussein, laughing.  I have felt, since that email first crossed my desk, that it is all much more closely tied together than a lot of us realize.  I am not a student of the Middle East nor do I keep as well informed as I should on these matters.  I have no idea if Saddam and Osama ever met, ever had lunch.  But I feel they applauded and encouraged each other and their hatred made them brothers, buddies, compatriots, pals.  I feel no loss for either of these men.   

That being said, I don’t feel like I can go to a parade over it, but I don’t mind if others do.  I don’t think I can fully put my thoughts altogether in one place as I am as conflicted on this issue and how to react as I have ever been.  On the other hand, I am as proud of the President, the military and their special abilities as any American could be.  Boo-rah, ya’ll.  Do not mistake my inner conflict with my patriotism, please!