More Than I Ever Dreamed I Could Ask For

It was my birthday the other day, I shared it with Fathers Day this year.  

There was not a lot of pomp and absolutely no circumstance for either Mr.Motorcycle or I... we ran errands, and had a mediocre dinner with service so craptacular the highlight might have been the point where they vacuumed the rug around us as we ate.

Willie Degel would've had a heart attack if he'd been monitoring this place.

Even though there were no grand gifts or parties and I am still daunted by the pile of laundry remaining to be done, nothing about the day dissapointed me.  It was a beautiful day weather wise, my kids were happy and funny and well, I spent the entire day with Mr. M. I received a few calls wishing me a happy day, a card, some hugs and a lot of Facebook messages. 

What I didn't anticipate was the best birthday present I've ever received.  A present I never dreamed I could hope for, ask for, dream of.  Just seven simple words that when put together meant more than any surprise party or Luxury Car Event To Remember ever could.

Feeling better and doing more every day.

It's a good thing I put the glass man on speed dial; if this keeps up I might even go back to mass.

Faith, or something like it

I was raised Catholic, the kind with the capital "C".  The one that counsels you on living Christ daily,  the comfort of saying a rosary, the mandatory attendance at mass on Sunday, and the healing powers of prayer.

I know that other religions have these same qualities, Catholics aren't all that unique despite what some who share the faith might have you believe.  I find the common thread of taking comfort in prayer, believing that, with enough prayer, God will hear me and possibly grant the comfort I seek an interesting connection.

I am in awe of people who have and live a very strong faith.  People who are willing to let control go (something I'm not built for). People who all caps BELIEVE.  When things are tough and rough they find solace and comfort in their faith. 

I am envious.

I remember as a child praying like crazy that my dad would come back.  Not from work, the store, or even war.  No, I wanted my daddy to come back from the dead.

At 7 I didn't know about zombies and hadn't seen Pet Cemetery so it seemed like a reasonable request to have fulfilled.  That was probably the first time I threw a rock at my own window of faith.

Over the years I've witnessed horrible things happening to good people, atrocities to the vulnerable and innocent, injustices and devastation. Each time I launched a rock, some big and others small, at my window of faith.

Conversely as miracles have happened  like  the births of my children,  safely making it through danger, and friends and family beating scary illnesses, I would call the glass repair man and some of those pits, holes and cracks created by the rocks were been repaired.

My window of faith is not perfect. It is marred by scratches and pits that no miracle will probably ever be able to repair, and it remains a very fragile commodity that requires care. But, it is somehow still intact and although ugly you can still see through it.

Recently What the Kids Know was shared with some whose window of faith is stronger than mine;  prayer circles were notified, intentions appeared in churches, prayer shawls bestowed, and tiny miracles began to happen. 

Maybe it's all medical science and the final, last ditch effort is providing the relief we didn't think would come, but I've put the glass man on speed dial anyway.

Don't believe what you learned in Art, blue doesn't mix with anything.

In 1974 a Hungarian sculptor and professor invented a 3-D combination puzzle that was widely released in 1980 by the Ideal Toy Corporation as the "Rubick's Cube".  As a child of the 80's I coveted the puzzle I would never solve without taking it apart and reassembling it or taking the stickers off and switching them to make it look like I was a lot more clever than my surface let on.  

As a longtime lover of both metaphors and similes I don't think it's a bit of a stretch to say that most people are like Rubik's Cubes.  Each color of the cube represents a facet of peoples lives or interests... blue is career, green is children, red is loves, white is faith, orange is hobbies... and most of us are unsolved.  We mix things up, career ends up next to hobbies and faith with a square of love... until the whole things is mixed up up and you find every facet of your life overlapping into each other.  

Rarely does one color remain untouched by another color; if it happens it typically doesn't last. 

There is a level of dogma here in the Widget Factory by those in power who believe that this is a family friendly, nurturing, and flexible work place; they believe they encourage you to be a Rubik's Cube and to be mixed up.  

Employee's are constantly reminded how much the Factory is like a Family Friendly Club Med! And then quickly encouraged to vote the Widget Factory as a Great Place to Work*.  

Unfortunately, when it comes down to it, the family friendliness and flexibility is really only available when it is convenient to those in charge, and the nurturing is a pipe dream.  I would classify it as hyperbole by hypocrites.

In the recent past I had a less then friendly interaction at work, and from my understanding, the crux of the problem is my personality.  

Actually, scratch that.. it should be the facet of my personality that demands my life not revolve around my work was the stated problem. I was instructed that I should leave my home life at home and not bring those emotions to the office.....the irony is that I was only bringing personal joys to work because there is more than enough sorrow here to choke a herd of elephants.  

What I presume was an unintended consequence is that I am rarely happy or joyful in the office and I talk nothing of what I do before or after office hours be it fun (vacations, accomplishments, social fun) or sad (funerals, divorce and illness).  I've become so disconnected and those I work with are so unaware of what goes on in my life that when they overhear bits and pieces or learn things from others they are taken aback, shocked, and sometimes even look foolish.

Obviously this is now a problem for the powers that be and my always friendly and professional interactions are not good enough.... so I'm being questioned about what I did over the weekend, last night, where I'm going on vacation.... WHY are you so quiet?  

I learned my lesson - always friendly, but not too, always professional... blue doesn't really mix with anything.

*The Widget Factory never makes the list and are always shocked so they spend money on promoting their family friendly, nurturing and flexible work place policies instead of giving their employees raises, adding staff where necessary, increasing the 401K match, cutting red tape, or holding down the increases in health insurance.  

What the kids know

"What do the kids know?"  

It was a simple question with a loaded answer I didn't want to respond to.

"They know it's not good, they weren't too shocked, they're too old to have not noticed everything going on."

Thankfully there were no follow up questions.

How did you tell them, what did you tell them, how did they take it, was it hard to tell them... are they okay, are you okay?

Quietly and individually, everything, quietly but with loud pain in their eyes, horrid, not really, not by a long shot.

Last week, maybe the week before, I read a blog post written by someone whose writing style I happen to admire and enjoy.  It spoke of how her blog is not her journal and it wasn't her place to discuss the situations of others openly and publicly even though a current situation affects her very deeply and personally.  I struggle with this, wanting to tell something that isn't mine to tell, wanting to yell 

See this?  THIS is why I am not here.  This is why you get pictures of bubble gum toes, kleenex and beer. This is why I spend a lot of time in my own world, why I read so much, am at the gym so much, eat copious amounts of Lays Carolina BBQ chips.

But, so much of what is happening, the choices being made, the plans being forged, and the detours on the path we are all being forced to walk along are closely guarded secrets.  Secrets that only a handful of people know, secrets that others need to know... 

But, secrets that aren't mine to tell. 

It isn't good, the chances of it getting any better are barely discernible. There is only one thing left to try and if it doesn't help the path will be very rocky and then it will simply drop off into the abyss. 

That is what the kids know.

I really don't like game shows when they become your life

I am stuck on a game show and it isn't a dream.. because this game show is nothing like Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy where my superior skills and knowledge give me an edge.  Instead it's a a lot like a nightmare because I'm stuck on Survivor Island, there is no million dollar prize, and I can't leave until I find safe transportation off the island and a new island to land on. 

Source: google.com via Cursing on Pinterest

The teams are divided, there is nobody you can trust, and the leaders get more ruthless every day in their quest to own all the things.  And not a single one of the male participants should take their shirt off - EVER! (I am not wearing that bikini either - I brought a mu-mu as my luxury item)

I thought for a time that I had an alliance with a teammate and that alliance helped me get through the most grueling of times. I learned that I was played a fool when I was called into a meeting with the Chief and things that I had talked about with my so called confidant were thrown in my face (word-for-word I might add); rules were made to benefit the turncoat and penalize me.  

Now, the person who I thought I could trust is openly hostile to me. The Chief is refusing me my allowed rations and other teammates are taking advantage of my lowered status in the group. 

I spend a lot of time making sure that I don't end up on a hastily constructed raft of rotten palm trees with no fresh water; even though I have really earned extra rations and a higher status in the group. 

 Sucks when others take credit for starting the fire and cutting all the firewood when they really spent their day playing with the tic-tac-toe board I made.  You know what else sucks.. getting yelled at for not catching enough fish when the team refuses to share the fishing poles.

Don't even get me started on the reward challenges .. the other teams are HUGE and although I hear there is a lot of infighting in those teams, they somehow always come together to win all of the challenges. 

I've been trying for months to get off Survivor Island, to find an island where I'll be appreciated, valued and rewarded. Unfortunately coming from this island, where the teams are vengeful and untrustworthy, I can't even ask anyone for help or feel confident that they will tell other islands the truth about how hard I work, how much I bring to a team, how my skills really are something worth rewarding.  

Strangely this fight on survivor island has renewed something in me, given me a different perspective, caused me to reevaluate where I thought I wanted to head and how much I thought I wanted to accumulate. I'll get off this island for sure...I know that I can live up to the Survivor Tagline and "Outwit....Outplay...Outlast" them all......and I'm making darn sure that my next destination isn't just another season of survivor.

Source: spirituallythinking.blogspot.com via Cursing on Pinterest

Goodbye 2012, you've been one flaming pile of bitch!

I was ready for 2012 to be done in October.  I should have been done with it much earlier but I tend to give people and things more chances than I should......  

Nearly every work day I sat, during my coffee cool-down, with this post window open hoping that something would move me to type something worth sharing, something that someone will find worthy of reading, something that is not drivel, or whining, complaining, or bitter....but, to be honest, 2012 was a little disappointing.

Thus the occasional Instagram photo...

Usually I'm a glass is half full girl, although things are bad they could be worse (Midwestern Philosophy 101),  my problems and stresses are so minor in comparison to those that other people are facing. I have my home, most of my family, most of my friends, my health, financial security, a job, food on the table... really no right to complain.

But, I just couldn't find the will within me to write a fun filled or funny blog post when what I really wanted to do is reveal the disappointments, betrayals and abandonment's that 2012 seemed to be filled with.  Maybe even get a little revenge by sharing some peoples dirty secrets with the world at large.

I kept reminding myself.....

Source: piccsy.com via Cursing on Pinterest

No matter how small one dissapointment may have seemed in comparison to the other, they were each bitter pills I  had to choke down.....

I made no New Years Resolutions about forgiveness, forgetting, moving on... not a single one.  After all, it is hard to forgive someone or something when forgiveness is not asked for, when apologies or explanations are not offered. And, it is even harder to forgive & forget if the same thing keeps being repeated.

So, here I was last week, a brand new year in front of me trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to jump start the blog, wondering if I should.  It struck me that the silence was odd.... I missed interacting & commenting and responding but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get past my gut reaction to write  about the ugly.  

Last night I was talking to my mom and my sister about one of the greater dissapointments this year and it dawned on me that I need to write about it - I need to get it out of me - and I need to address it all to the person who has done the most damage. 

This morning I started a file in Word, doesn't matter what it's called, but what does matter is that it is the beginning of those words that need to come out of me so that I can move on, not just here but also in life and things can get back to the way they should be. 

Pass me a glass of water, I'm going to swallow that last pill and get on with my life.

Growing Up

My time in the carpool line has been made considerably more enjoyable because of books (paper and electronic) text messages and games on my phone.

I did finally, after 3+ years of threatening, get a smart phone.  I don't feel smarter, but I am a lot better at bejeweled.  

I'm waiting to hear from ThePrincess to see if: 

I'll be in the carpool line today (probably not)
Is she going to the football game (of course)
Would she like a sandwich delivered (probably)
Are her plans going to mess with my plans (absolutely)
Do I REALLY care (nope)

Enjoying her while I've got her.....because before I know it she'll be gone..

Source: a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net via Cursing on Pinterest

That Sun Won't Be Shining...

Two days, two posts.  It's like a trend, but we all know that trends are flash in the pan kinds of things.

This morning I realized that I could discuss something that has been consuming a chunk of of my life for the last year and is partially to blame for my inability to participate fully in the CursingMama Internet Empire. 

We are selling our cabin.

Anyone who has been around since the inception of the Potentially Evil Empire (P.E.E.) in September of 2004 (let that sink in for a minute, I have been rambling on here for almost 8 freakin' years!) may remember that for years I reported on spending  almost every weekend in the summer on a flotational device with a cocktail in hand surrounded by family, making mischief and eating cookies. 

Good times were had at that cabin, awesome flaming smores, the best campfire hotdogs... I taught ThePrincess to water ski... I watched Gameboy get over his fear of jumping off the dock... our beloved Harley was a 2 year old in a 12 year olds body.. and our new pup Scooter found out that he LOVES water almost as much as he loves Mr.Motorcycle.

I've watched my kids and my nephews grow up there and a lot of wonderful memories were made.  

Unfortunately as time moved forward and our lives changed the cabin lost its luster.  When every trip you make to the cabin is full of work and contains none of the fun you used to have it loses its joy and becomes a burden. 

Sadly the last couple years have been more burden than joy and most of what was happy has been stained by rotten walnuts.

For many months we have been working to get everything ready for sale..cleaning, painting, fixing, new carpet..it looks wonderful and I'm sad that I won't get to enjoy it the way it is today. 

I'm going to miss big family suppers, finding my dog unexpectedly sitting alone in the lake, riding the wave runner at a speed that exceeds the allowable limit...sitting in my chair, trashy book in my hands, sun on my skin, gentle breeze off the lake, adult beverage on my left, kids giggling and playing in the lake on my right. 

If I could go back, to those happy days, before the tree happened and before the burden set in and feel THAT sun just one more time... well, you know I would.


If anyone I "know" is looking for a really nice place to make memories, be it a cabin or a "lake home" about an hour from downtown Minneapolis.. shoot me a line. 

The proper application of salt

I was in a bit of a melancholy mood on Friday, something that was startling apparent based on what I posted.  Certainly was the opposite of Fluff.  Without going into much detail I can only say that the walnut tree found one of the large wounds I've sustained while falling through the branches and decided to rub salt into it. 

Salt belongs on the rim of my margarita glass, not in my open wounds.

Today I am feeling much better....about the walnut situation.  I do not feel better about my health regimen; there was a "blip".  In the name of having endured a shitty week I took the drastic step of skipping my workouts Friday, Saturday and Sunday and in their place added fried food, beer, and a lot of trashy talking.  Sometimes a girl needs to live a little like Gretchen Wilson....




I wonder who her personal trainer is....

Anyone Who Knows Me Knows I Don't Like To Run Any Kind of Race

I'm still stuck in the branches of the walnut tree and I'm not alone.

When I peer through the branches I see people I love being tossed around, some harder than others and the pain I feel for them outweighs my own.  I envy the few standing on the ground hollering at us to "Just Let Go" and, try as I might, I can't. 

Its obvious, the walnut tree doesn't want us and doesn't care about us anymore. This isn't an errant and unexpected wind throwing us around, causing this pain; this is intentional, this was planned.

I try every day to say that I don't care, that I am unaffected, that I don't need. But every day there are reminders, little things, big things, memories that make me smile and then sting with the knowledge of what has come to pass.

I fight an internal battle between walking away, fighting back, forgiving, and seeking revenge.  I plan what it is I'm going to say the next time we come face to face, how I want to inflict the kind of pain that those of us who have been tossed aside have had had to endure.  But then I remember that I'm giving too much of my energy to someone who doesn't care, who used to matter but maybe shouldn't anymore.

Source: unmistaken-proverbs.tumblr.com via Cursing on Pinterest

What To Do With Rotten Walnut Trees

When I was younger, much younger (before boobs), my best friend was a boy.  Being best friends with a boy back then was easy, I didn't have boobs (so they didn't get in the way) and we both liked to do a lot of the same things.  

Although it was easy to be best friends with a boy, it was not always easy to do the things the boy wanted to do.  I didn't struggle with tag, swimming, riding bikes, or Hot Wheels; but I did struggle with others.  Anything to do with a baseball, softball, or even volleyball was out, I wouldn't even pick me to be on my own team.  I was a horrible bicycle repair person, refused to touch snakes, and never did master writing my name in the snow via urine.

Other than the snakes (and other wildlife) I tried my best to keep up. (yes that included the snow thing - I was YOUNG!) So, when my best friend shimmied up the big walnut tree in my front yard and declared that there was no way I would be able to do it, the competitive feminist in me kicked into high gear.  

The competitive feminist isn't always the wisest of my personalities. 

Despite my complete lack of upper body strength and a storied past of never doing a single pull-up, never getting off the ground on the rope climb and winning an award for being girl who fell off the monkey bars the most, I showed that boy the 1 finger salute (taught to me by my dad, the same person who told me I could do whatever he could do) (he must have forgotten about the snow thing) and attempted to climb the tree.

It was, quite frankly, a miracle.  Between my stubborn pride and the adrenaline rush I was feeling over the salute I had given, I managed to not only shimmy off the ground but I made it high enough up that when my arms and legs gave out completely I landed hard enough on my back that I got the wind knocked right out of me.

I clearly remember lying there under that damn walnut tree with half rotted walnuts under me, ruining my clothes and staining my skin...my best friend staring down at me, eyes wide and mouth agape as I struggled to take a breath....it was utterly terrifying.  And, for me at least, scary enough that I never tried to climb that damn walnut tree again and have done my diligence to ensure that I keep myself out of physical situations that could lead back to that horrible feeling.

Unfortunately, I've learned that in life it almost doesn't matter what you do to protect yourself, someone or something is going to knock the wind out of you when you least expect it.  Sure, you could hide yourself away and avoid caring or feeling, but someone or something will still eventually get to you.  

I'm not the kind of person to hide myself away... so this last year has been spent with instance after instance of getting the emotional wind knocked out of me.  Sometimes the fall wasn't as far and it was easier to start breathing... but not every time, and certainly not this last time. 

No, this last time, this last thing, it feels like I've fallen from the top of that walnut tree and landing on every branch along the way. Laying on each branch just long enough to start to get my breathe back, but then that branch gives way and I tumble to the next and have the wind knocked out of me all over again.

I'm working hard not to let this last thing own me, to stop hitting branches and just bottom out so I can get up, brush the fucking rotted walnuts from my clothes, scrub the stains from my skin and make damn sure this never happens again.  

Because this ....unlike all the other stuff that came before....THIS I can make damn sure never happens again. 

I can chop this walnut tree down if I want to.

But I'm not sure I want to get the ax out, I'm not sure I'm ready to fire up the chainsaw and be done with it. This tree has been in my life for so long...it's provided all the things that you expect from a strong, proud tree and I'm not sure what my life will be like if I never see this tree again.  

The thought of life without the walnut tree hurts almost as much as the fall, but I also can't let the tree hurt me like this again.

********************************************************
Updated/Edited To Clarify:  It suddenly dawned on me that this post could be misconstrued to mean that something bad is happening between Mr.Motorcycle and I.  I assure this isn't the case - he and I are golden.