Divorced Diva's Guide to Survival

Being Salty

2012-01-19T10:25:00.000-05:00

How I love the salt air…..ocean breeze….waves crashing over my feet….. After playing in the ocean, I am so delightfully salty. As an avid cook, I know that the right about of salt in a dish can meld the flavors and make the taste buds come alive! I was reminded this morning that I need to stay salty…..to enhance the lives around me….to make me even more…me.

You are the salt of the Earth; but if salt looses its flavor, how is it to be seasoned? It is good for nothing else than to be thrown out.

You have heard that it was said long ago, “You should not murder” and whoever murders will be in danger of judgment. But I say to you that whoever is angry with his brother without cause shall be in danger of judgment. Whoever devalues his brother shall be in danger of judgment as well.
If you do good things (aka bring your gift to the altar) and remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift and go your way. First be reconciled with your brother and then offer your gift.

You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I tell you not to resist an evil person. If anyone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak also. Give to him who asks you and from him who wants to borrow from you do not turn away.

You have heard that it was said, “you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you to love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you. If you love those who love you, what reward do you have?

Reminder to self: Salt is always used to benefit other things. One does not simply eat salt. Salt dissipates so others can shine. But salt is glorious and valuable…just like me.

I am Becky Pruitt-Lukovic and I approve this message!

Ho Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum!

2012-01-04T10:16:00.000-05:00

Blending is not my favorite thing--unless of course it involves ice and lots and lots of tequilla.... The art of blending a family is complex and takes the finesse of a virtuoso combined with the hardiness of a pirate. Usually I simply get that deer in the headlights look and freeze until just the right moment and then run.....smack dab into a Mack Truck!

Mateys.....We need Rum!!

Blending is much harder than I anticipated. Teenagers love me.....my own kids typically love me.....well....typically..... I am fun....really.....I promise!!! I cook!! I listen....usually. Blending is like living in a foreign country---everything I need, I have to go through my translator.....(Hubs) and everything they need, they go through the translator (dad). I feel as if I must sit back and watch and wait for the pieces to connect----excruciatingly painful for a woman of action----and divest myself emotionally from the outcome. I have to be the grown up....I can't get my feelings hurt....I have to keep waiting and waiting for that moment where I get some sort of "tada!" moment. Did someone say Rum?!?!?!?

I am not sure what exactly I envisioned----maybe the Waltons.....or Little House on the Prairie when they adopted Albert.....or.... I just want to hit that little button that says Blend------I want to make it happen instantaneously!!! I want them to be comfortable....I want me to be comfortable......I want The Man to be comfortable.....I want Junior and Chickadee to be comfortable......mostly I just want to have a family that loves each other and engages with each other....creating a new living breathing organism.....a beautiful blended family.

The problem is that I get my feelings hurt......they get their feelings hurt.....The Man gets his feelings hurt.....and we all compartmentalize and talk to our translators. Sometimes it feels as if I am on a reality tv show---negotiating back and forth....making alliances....and plans.....and super secret alliances....and super secret plans.... Rum! We need more Rum!!!

At times, I feel caught in the middle in the fray between exes.....at times I feel left out...in my own home.....because this is a family that is not mine....they have a history I don't share.....I feel like an intruder....an interloper.....watching something beautiful from the outside. It's a club I can't join......I'm not really even a step-mom.....I am simply Becky. Some days I am okay with that.....and some days it just really sucks.

It's time to re-evaluate......to step up to the plate......to risk something in order to gain something. In my fears that they won't like me, I have become something that is not quite myself. In the words of Ray Hunt, "If you do what you always do, you will get what you have always gotten." It's time to return to me......learn the language......ditch the translator....and take a risk.

Resolved the Sequel....2012

2012-01-03T10:33:00.000-05:00

2012 is here.....I wasn't quite ready for it's appearance, but since I can't seem to stop the sands through the hourglass, I need to make resolutions.

Although resolutions have gotten a bad rap of late, I think they are necessary....at least for me. The beginning of the year gives me a good reason to reflect and to adjust my course....to tweak what I am doing to refine the direction of my life. My resolutions aren't wishful thinking but rather mindful thinking.

So....for 2012, I am resolved to:

Invite people over for dinner regularly and set a beautiful table.

Paint my guest bathroom.

Turn my eye-sore side yard into something beautiful (or at least begin).

Attend networking events to promote my business.

Be brave and introduce myself.

Be braver and say hello to someone I've met before--even if I think they won't remember me.

Do some form of exercise every day-even by walking through the neighborhood.

Play Tennis.

Cook from a recipe more often to get more ideas.

Purge my clutter.

Offer more grace to those closest to me.

Discover something new.

That is it in a nutshell......welcome 2012!!!! It's going to be a great year!!!

Well, They Call Them Xs for a Reason

2011-09-27T19:10:00.001-04:00

I friend of mine sits on a bench at the courthouse checking email trying to look nonchalant. Toes tapping...brows furrowing....small sighs escape...tick....tick....tick....tick..... waiting....waiting...waiting... waiting.... The man beside her leans over and whispers loudy, "getting a divorce??" Surprised and completely off guard, my friend answers, "how could you tell??" The man leans back, smiles and says, "no woman looks this pissed sitting at the courthouse unless she is getting a divorce."

What is it about our Xs that set us off--catapulting right back to the moment it ended--to the moment they broke our hearts--to the moments where we feel like we have to defend ourselves?? I was a good wife--you were just to self-absorbed to see it....I listened, cooked, cleaned, seduced, balanced the kids, the checkbook, the menu....I picked up your slack AND mine while making it seem effortless.....did I make it seem effortless?? Are you realizing my efforts now??? Do you see how much I did for you??

It's futile, really. I mean....really. If he was too self-absorbed to see it then, he will be too self-absorbed to see it now. But...to be honest, after 3 1/2 years of the divorce being final, I have come to the place where I don't care if he realizes it. Still....at times, I am held captive to the emotion of our undoing. Sometimes little chickadee or junior will say something that comes straight out of his mouth....or use the same catch phrases...or have the same mannerisms...and the fingernails start grating down the chalkboard. Breathe Becky....breathe.... Oh and Lord forbid The Man say something that reminds me of the X - I can go from zero to Betty B...B...B...B.... in 0.6 seconds. But that is now....and my friend is where I was then....in that spot where you just want to fast forward past all the formalities and get on with your life....but you are forced to interact and work together...and it Just-Feels-Like kaka.

So what to do when you are in the thick of it??? Just smile....and remember.....that there is a reason we call them Xs.....

Turning Tables

2011-05-15T15:11:00.000-04:00

Close enough to start a war…..

I am enamored with Adele. She has been one of my favorite singers for well over a year now—she just has a soulful quality about her voice. I have been meditating on this song for weeks now. It started with that statement, “Close enough to start a war.” Those are the hardest kinds aren’t they? The emotional battles with those we love—the abandonment we feel when someone “checks out” during a fight—the shame we feel inside when we know we are pushing them away….but we don’t know what else to do….after all we are right…we are entitled to speak our truth…we feel unheard, unappreciated and (my personal favorite) ignored.

All that I have is on the floor….
God only knows what we’re fighting for…

In the midst of an all out cold war in the house…or maybe even in the heat of the battle, do I really know why I am angry/frustrated/ticked off?? Seriously?? Can I name it?? I have found myself a bit addicted to Grey’s Anatomy…it’s a new addiction actually…one fueled by the discovery that I can watch episodes through Netflix. In one episodes, the GI Joe doctor-man is seeing a therapist for his PTSD. The therapist says something profound—“you have to name it to examine it.” (or something along those lines). If I can’t name the feeling (rather than the action) then I am not really getting down to the bottom of things. If I can’t express why something is annoying me today when for the last six months it hasn’t been a problem, them I am not being honest with myself and with my loved ones.

All that I say, you always say more….

I have been guilty of expressing this feeling a lot lately. To keep the peace, I keep the peace…but sometimes peace comes with a price—emotional withdrawal—divesting myself in the outcome. Sometimes this can be beneficial…but most times, it is devastating. I feel unheard because I can be an emotional mute…afraid to act…afraid to speak…not because someone has made me afraid, but rather I am afraid of what I will say and the repercussions and stark vulnerability that sharing my heart brings. I am unheard because I don't speak...so my feelings of being unheard are correct--just misdirected....

I won’t let you close enough to hurt me – no
I won’t ask you—
You would just desert me….

Bingo!! If I share the depths of my heart—my fears, my hopes, my struggles and you don’t “get me” or you judge me…I will be devastated. Desertion is not just physical…it can be emotional as well. There is nothing worse than getting up the courage and asking—only to be shot down. The stakes are high when I am asking for you to be there with me and for me—even when I don’t deserve it. So instead, in the heat of battle, I turn the tables—I point the eye towards you to take the penetrating glare off of me. I put you in the hot seat so I can breathe. Coming from a former marriage where emotional desertion was the mode operandi has taught me the skill of the emotional bob and weave—to position myself where the hurt has the least impact, butstill function (somewhat) in the relationship. It’s a hard habit to unlearn…..trust me…

It’s time to say goodbye—to turning tables…

Yay!!! No more turning tables!! But wait…there’s more!! Adele’s answer is to leave the relationship so she can breathe. She can’t ask…because she is afraid of desertion…she has no idea what they are really fighting for….so she goes…she walks away for relief. Sometimes I want to go there….I want to pack my bags and head for Tahiti…sand in my toes…mai tai in-hand and forget how to grow as a person. I am a runner by nature—it gets scary and I hide behind the big old oak tree…peeping around the trunk to see if it’s safe. I am the deer who freezes upon danger and then bounds out of the way----and into a mac truck. I vow to freeze my fleeing feet into place and wait and allow myself to be seen….and to be loved. I vow to ask even when my knees are knocking and I have mentally pre-determined the answer. I vow to love and to be loved—to be fully visible even when invisibility seems safer. I vow to get even closer and not stray to the perimeter. Fully present, fully seen, emotionally honest. Here I am.

Mirror Mirror

2011-03-15T15:22:00.000-04:00

It’s interesting, really. It’s interesting how living with someone creates a mirror reflecting back the state of your heart, your attitude and…well…..your messiness inside and out.

There have been times in the last three months where I have wished I had an anonymous blog -- one where I could share the grit of my life….the struggles I have…my points of self-doubt and indecision. I have done that in the past in this blog when I was picking up and rebuilding my life….but I have found that it’s a precarious place to share publicly and openly when other people are involved….future spouse, kids, future step-kids. I have struggled with what to share and when, so I have taken a bit of a break to reorganize my blogging thoughts, to look at the future and determine whether the Divorced Diva will still be in existence….and have come to the conclusion-----Heck Yeah!! Even on my journey to become remarried soon…..my divorce (and my 16-year marriage) still shapes my outlook, my relationships, my fears and my desire to have breakfast at 11am on Saturday mornings just because I can.

As I sit here typing on my couch, overlooking mismatched shoes on my living room floor, yesterday’s coffee cup on my coffee table and a stack of torn magazine pages containing recipes, ideas, and pretty pictures, I feel a sense of guilt. Guilt because I have been home for three hours and have done nothing but check email and watch Gray’s Anatomy. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a bon-bon eating, tv watching couch potato…..that is not where I live….but I do visit there from time to time. It’s easy to appear neat when your man comes to visit from time to time, but it’s quite another thing when they share an address……..suddenly, those shoes that I hide at a moment’s notice remain on my floor…..my makeup is all over the bathroom counter and my dishes are still in the sink. The Man has stepped up to the plate. He cleans up after himself, he does dishes, he helps out around the house….it’s every woman’s dream…..that is….until he asks “can you hang that up?” Whoa….what?? You mean you can see my stuff?? My Klingon cloaking device no longer works now that we are engaged?? You can actually see my stuff??? Defensiveness rises up….excuses stream out like a burst water pipe. Deflect--deflect……well…..what about the fact that you left your water glass on the coffee table??? Huh?? “You mean the one next to your coffee cup--s???” Mayday… mayday…..I’m shot…I’m going down…. Parachute comes out and I descend the stairs to the safety of my couch. But then….there he is……wanting to talk.

Talk?? In the olden days we had our own homes….our own space…..so if I felt a little….well…hormonal…..I could just make up some project to get done at my house, give him a kiss on the cheek and offer to bring over dinner. I can’t tell you how many loads of laundry The Man did at his house that were somewhat suspect----that is, I suspected them of being a smokescreen for space….and a nap….  Now, here we are together…..and all the mess of our lives are here to be seen…both inside and out. We are mirrors for each other---revealing the brokenness of our lives---but also revealing the beauty of those broken fragments….if we take a minute to discern carefully. That mirror has caused me a bit of distress in the last few months…..sometimes I get tired of having my crabby image ricocheted back to me….I get tired of talking about our disagreements….I get tired of having disagreements…… but then I take a minute and realize that he is growing roots - - oak tree roots--and he is not going anywhere. This is his home. He is no longer visiting….coming over for a play date…..he is home….with me. We are home together.

So I will try to keep my mess to a minimum---both inside and out and learn to give more grace when his mirror is reflecting back at him….and understand.

Ode to My Computer - Grandpa G

2011-01-13T15:42:00.000-05:00

Grandpa G

My Gateway MA3
wears slippers
and uses a walker.

Tick tock tick tock
goes the grandfather clock.
Tick…tick…tick tock
Waiting…waiting…waiting.

Soft foods only.
No large, difficult files.
His false teeth can’t chew bites
……..like they used to.

He is falling apart
with creaks and groans.
His battery pack needs frequent
naps to recharge.

Tick tock tick tock

What’s that you say, honey??
Sweet?
No, delete…
Replete??
No, delete
Treat??
NO DELETE
…….Blue Screen
All my work is gone
Every…last…word.

My typing is too fast,
he can’t keep up.
He’s sitting in a chair
in the middle of the mall
waiting
and forgetting why…

Grandpa is six years old.
That’s 83 in computer years!
With all those new-fangled whipper-snappers
coming on the scene,
he seems as old as Methuselah
and twice as slow.

My Gateway MA3
Wears slippers
And uses a walker

…….I need a Mac

2010 in Review

2011-01-03T11:48:00.000-05:00

2010 was a great year but also a bit of a trying year. Little Junior (he’s almost 20, but I can still call him little) decided to join the Chickadee in Colorado and start his own life adventure. It was a year of adjustment for The Man and I - - we had come to the serious part of our relationship and there was a lot of uncertainty and tentative expectations. 2010 brought my Chickadee back home to live (not in my house, but nearby). This is also the year that I was finally able to bring my horses closer to me instead of living at the farm with the X. What a year of transition!!!

2011 is full of promise!! It will be dubbed the Year of the Party as The Man and I plan a wedding and all of the festivities that come with it. This year is my 21st anniversary of my 21st birthday and so deserves a milestone celebration (any reason for a party, right???)….. I am contemplating my goals for 2011, but first, I have to review the goals of 2010…….. drum roll please…..

Last year’s resolution post http://divorced-diva.blogspot.com/2010/01/resolvedthe-sequel.html

RESOLVED……..I will take more bubble baths-at least 2 per month
RESOLVED……..I will not use my credit cards
RESOLVED......I will blog every single week
RESOLVED……..I will promote my blog better
RESOLVED……..I will exercise at least 3 times each week
RESOLVED……..I will streamline my home-including filing and purging unwanted items
RESOLVED......I will travel to Spain in 2010
RESOLVED……By the end of the year, I will write a book

It seems that 2010 was a bust in terms of attaining my goals…….they weren’t over the top, unrealistic goals……it just seems that life got in the way. That happens sometimes…..life gets in the way of all of our good intentions. I would like to say that I am the most organized and self-disciplined person……but in actuality, I am more of a free spirit who likes to color within the lines. Instead of wallowing in guilt that I did not meet my goals…..I feel like I need to list my accomplishments of 2010.

See, I tend to be the type of person who feels guilty when she does not perform up to expectations----who the heck is setting these expectations anyway?? If I feel like I am disappointing someone, I cringe inside and run away….hide my face……and hope they give me a bit of mercy. The Man points out time and time again how I am doing so much but I can’t see it. Case in point……

The Man: What did you do today?
Obsessive Me: Not a thing….I didn’t accomplish anything, today--I feel so guilty!
The Man You don’t have to feel bad for not doing anything…..it’s okay.
OM: It’s just that all these other things got in my way today and kept me from doing anything - I wrote two papers, a blog post, read my reading assignment for school, planned half of a trip to Rome, answered some emails, followed up on feedback from a real estate showing and went to the grocery. However, my bathroom is messy, my filing needs to be done and I didn’t get my linguistics homework finished….

Seriously…..I think I need a 12 step program…….except I think I would obsess over getting all of the 12 steps done in record time……

In 2010, I….the Divorced Diva…..

Embarked on the journey to finish my degree in English.
Earned a 4.0 for 12 hours in the Spring Semester.
Anticipate getting 4 A’s for the Fall Semester (unless I get a dreaded A-).
Learned that there is a poet inside of me.
Blogged for two or three different websites.
Learned about Old World wines.
Started a new business with my daughter - Bella Event and Travel Planning.
Took a road trip from Colorado Springs to Indianapolis with 5 people and a dog, two cars and a U-Haul.
Planned my family’s first destination Christmas.
Began tennis lessons.
Learned basic Serbian.
Learned basic French.
Hosted a Kentucky Derby Party which was a raving success.
Used my neighborhood pool for the first time.
Learned to cook purple hull peas with my grandma.
Tended a garden with the hottest jalapeno peppers ever.
Created a flower bed in my back yard.
Gave horse back riding lessons after 5 years away from the sport.
Got a perfect score on my final paper on Dante’s Inferno.
Became engaged to an amazing man!!!
2010 was a good year…….but 2011 will be even better.

Stay tuned for my Resolutions………ones that allow me to color with pretty colors but within the lines.

Cheers!

Shiny Happy People

2011-01-03T11:11:00.000-05:00

Oh how I love shiny, sparkly things---especially shiny, sparkly things that come in small packages. On Christmas Day, I awoke to the sun shining in beautiful Isla Morada. Christmas is my favorite day of the year……it’s just so full of promise, surprises and creativity. On Christmas, you are literally surrounded by wrapping paper, colorful bows, stockings full of candy and smiling faces. It’s the day of Champagne, Cinnamon Rolls and ham and cheese quiche. The day is simply buzzing with happy energy.

When I peeped my eyes open, I looked over at The Man and said, “Santa was here…..wake up!!!” He groaned a bit and said, “It’s earrrrrrrly.” I wiggled a little closer, scrunched up my shoulders, smiled and said ever so sweetly, “Santa was here!!!!” I was so excited to give him my present that I couldn’t sit still.

Since this was a destination Christmas, the family was simply filling each other’s stockings with no other presents given. The Man and I had decided to give each other simple presents with a dollar limit (although I did have my doubts as to whether either one of us would stay within the parameters). My gift was simple and practical……. something he needed but a little nicer than he would purchase for himself. I bought him a NICE pair of Nike winter running pants and a warm Under Armour-type shirt (he’s a soccer player). After he opened my gift, he said……”I need to get your present.” Suddenly……I am a bit nervous.

He tells me to close my eyes and cover them with my hands. I hear shuffling in the closet and wonder what exactly he is doing. His quiet footsteps stop in front of me and I feel him sit down beside me. Open your eyes. I held my breath…..and willed my eyes to open……and before me is a dark red box with silver lining…..housing the most beautiful ring in the history of rings. I look at it, not sure what to do next…..my heart is racing….unsure but yet completely sure. Now this ring comes with a question. Pause….. pause…pause…..pause……. I feel like a little pooch waiting for a treat……I just might jump up or bark or leave a little tiny excited puddle……I am so very, very excited!!! I look into his eyes and he smiles at me……Will You Marry Me??? Yes!!!! Yes!!! Yeeees!!

He puts the ring on my finger…..it fits so perfectly…..it is so beautiful!!! We hug for a very long time. I wanted to give you this ring today because I know it is your favorite day of the year and I wanted this day to be extra special. Sigh….. We spend the next hour telling each other the deep things in our hearts…..of how we feel lucky to have found each other……of the reasons we fell in love with each other. It was a moment to be savored and we savored every minute of it.

Grandma's Banana Puddin

2010-12-08T09:31:00.003-05:00

No holiday would be complete without my Grandma Haley’s Banana Pudding. As a matter of fact, so family gathering would be complete without having a bowlful of this rich banana/custard/vanilla combination…..heavenly….the perfect end to a laaarrrge meal!

This holiday season, The Man and I hosted a Southern/Serbian dinner for a few of our friends. For my contribution, I made Chicken and Dumplins, Dressin, and my grandma’s Banana Puddin. Although I have a recipe that I love for Banana Pudding, I used the recipe I learned from her this summer….OMG…..perfect!

Here is the recipe:
(this is for a small batch, I doubled the recipe for my party and put it in a larger bowl)

2 cups of milk (warmed in the microwave or on the stove - prevents lumps)
1 cup sugar
Pinch of salt
½ cup flour
2 eggs beaten
Ripe Bananas
Vanilla Wafers - don’t skimp and get the generic - if you are in the south, use Jackson, otherwise any good brand will do.
Stick of Butter
Tsp vanilla

In a bowl, combine flour and sugar and a pinch of salt. Stir eggs into flour/sugar/salt until it makes a paste. Add a bit of warm milk to thin the mixture and pour into a medium saucepan. Turn on heat to somewhere between medium and low ( you have to gauge this - you don’t want lumps, but you don’t want to stand in front of the stove until your gray hairs multiply). Stir constantly (stirring with a whisk helps) to keep custard from sticking to the bottom. When the mixture is thickened, turn off the heat and add a stick of butter and vanilla. Stir until butter and vanilla are combined with the custard.

Find the prettiest bowl you own - I typically use cut glass bowls. These photos were taken at my Grandma's house and we used a square, handled white dish For this recipe-the small batch, the bowl doesn’t have to be large….medium-sized will do perfectly. If the bowl is too big, your layers will not have a lot of custard. If it is too small, the bananas and wafers get lost in all of the custard.

Layer….vanilla wafers then custard then small slices of bananas (the important thing is that the wafers are on the bottom, otherwise it makes no difference). Layer a few times - end with a layer of custard on top and put wafers upright around the edge of the bowl, sunk halfway into the custard. I typically put a few wafers in a design on the top of the pudding.

Per my grandma’s tradition, I do not serve this dish cold (except for leftovers--which are amazing in their own right). I serve it warm or room temperature like a custard-based pie. Enjoy!!

Dream and Lucky

2010-12-05T22:14:00.000-05:00

I had to write an allegory for my Literary Masterpieces class in our last test. I kind of liked it and wanted to share - - by the way, my horses are named Lucky and Dream...... Enjoy!

Today, as I went out to the barn to brush my horses, I put on my coat of despair. Winter is setting in and dark dreary days are ahead of me. Bills are piling up on the counter and there isn't enough jingle in my pockets to satisfy them. Lucky walked up to me and nuzzled my shoulder. "Why do you despair?" he seemed to say...he smelled my coat in deep breaths and sighed, "I am here...you can ride on me anytime...wind in your hair....and be free." He whispers in my ear...."grace...you have grace..." Dream whinnied from the distance. A half-broke filly full of energy, she prances across the field tail fanned out, bright eyed daring me..."Catch me....run after me....I am yours if you just try." I take off my coat of despair, jump on Lucky and start chasing Dream....and I feel free.

Diary of an Angry Greek Woman

2010-11-29T15:06:00.000-05:00

My first encounter with Medea was in the early days of dating The Man. He invited me to a movie, Medea Goes to Jail. He mentioned that this was a continuation of the Medea movie, Diary of an Angry Black Woman. I was *so* excited….I just love documentaries… the grit, the true life stories and this one sounded right up my alley. I pictured Africa…Johannesburg…women marching for equal treatment... When the first preview came on, my excitement came to a screeeeeching halt. *Oh* Tyler Perry is not an artsy indy filmmaker. Um…yeah… The Man kept glancing at me nervously at every punch line wondering, “why isn’t she laughing??” I kept subtly glancing at him, “did he just laugh at that?” Time moved in slow motion - the complete opposite of warp speed - I tried to smile and look cute…feign interest…wishing this movie theater served something a little more potent than milk duds…..

That was my first encounter with Medea. Imagine my surprise this semester when our assignment was to read Medea by Euripides. Tyler Perry just went up a notch in my mind. Medea? There is another Medea? I was instantly intrigued.

It’s an age-old story, really. Girl leaves her homeland…her family…her friends…to marry her hero - the celebrated Jason (as in Jason and the Argonauts). She helps him create his fortune by assisting him in his quest for the golden fleece. She is smart, beautiful, loyal…..he becomes her life….she has his children and is a devoted wife. They are the ultimate Power Couple--the Ken and Barbie of Ancient Greece. With her brains and his ambition, they can go places. That is…..until he traded her in for a new model….young, cute…..and a princess to boot. I can picture their conversation in my mind…..Medea: “But I got you where you are today - it was with my help that you succeeded.” Jason: “I would have succeeded with or without you…you really didn’t do that much to help…it was by MY hard work that I got where I am today.” I see Medea standing there….hearing those words that tore her heart….pleading with her husband to stay…not to abandon their long marriage. My heart starts to pound…my blood is reaching its boiling point…. Jason: “and just think…..it will be much better for the kids…..they will have little brothers and sisters who will be heirs to the throne….think of them for once…think of the opportunities it will give our children.” annnnnnd the Waterford crashes into the living room wall. I wonder - is he related to my X?? Early ancestor, maybe?? Jason: “I am sending you away - but you’ll have a nice house.” CRASH! Jason: “Why can’t you just accept this? You are so difficult!” CRASH- CRASH-CRASH-CRASH!!! Sister, I am there!! I am there in spades!!

Medea is devastated, hurt, angry, and alone. She has lost her husband, her friends, her house, and her lifestyle. She is one angry woman. She plots…plans….and manipulates her circumstances in order to bring him pain. She becomes a woman obsessed with showing the world how much he hurt her---to show the world what a bad father he is--to show the world that she is right and he is wrong. He was unfaithful not her….why is she being punished? She wanted to work on the relationship--he didn’t….the world needs to know that Jason…the revered Jason is a fraud. Medea looks for the way to cause him the most pain - - and she finds it….through his children.

In Euripides’ story, Medea plots to kill her children. I would be hard-pressed to find any woman willing to stoop to that level to cause their X’s that much pain. However, quite often I see women (and men) attempting to kill the relationship between their children and the other parent. It’s so subtle….a comment here and there about how unreliable they are, about their financial support, about their new girlfriend. I see them scheduling play dates, family outings, or girl scout meetings on the other parent’s weekend. She ignores simple, reasonable requests. She brings them late or picks them up early…..and visitation becomes a hassle in the children’s mind. Mom is happy because she feels vindicated because the kids chose to stay with her during Dad’s time.

I understand…..I am there sometimes….pick me not him….pick me not him!! Sometimes I just want to push the X off his pedestal like a kid playing King of the Mountain. Just one push…one quick hard push…. Why should he get to be the good guy?? It’s not fair!! I work hard to be a mom. I make the difficult decisions. I sacrificed for my family…stayed home to be a mom instead of finishing my degree and starting a career. But here’s the thing - kids need their dads and their moms. My new mantra is, “they are an X for a reason.” What he does now isn’t part of my current equation - he is my X-husband…..but he is not my kids’ X-father. He may not keep his house the way I would keep my house (holy cow, it would involve a bulldozer), he may not keep the children accountable like I would (just call him Mr. Cha-ching) and he may not date women I think are appropriate (I would prefer they be actual grown-ups) :) but he is still their dad and I need to give their relationship the utmost respect.

Your kids may never see how he wronged you….how much he hurt you….how you are the superior parent. To be honest, although that is a gratifying thought, it’s not a healthy thought. Part of me wants my kids to see it, but part of me knows that if and when they do, they are going to experience my pain, feel my abandonment, and mourn the daddy they once knew who has now fallen off his pedestal. It’s not worth it. My vindication is not worth my child’s heart.

Just walk away knowing that he is an X for a reason…..and whistle a happy tune.

Rant, Rant, Rant, Rant

2010-10-20T12:49:00.000-04:00

I saw something today on Twitter that just made my blood boil! I considered responding, but on social media I try not to be too controversial….to be Miss Congeniality….to go with the flow….free speech and all that jazz. Besides, how can I say what I want to say in 140 characters--be short, concise and to the point without sounding like….. well… witchy.

“…..because the suburbs around #Indy are devoid of culture, diversity, & local flavor; our suburbs represent what is wrong with the US.”

Wow! That is one of those comments typically prefaced in a conversation by, “no offense, but….” and you immediately know that it is offensive.

So as a resident of zip code 46033, otherwise known as Carmel, IN, I am what is wrong with this country?? Or maybe not me personally, but my neighborhood, or maybe my township or let’s just say Hamilton County as a whole!! Wow - that is a pretty bold statement!!

In my experience, one can find groups of people devoid of diversity, culture & flavor in most any zip code. Let’s use Broad Ripple for example (not that I have anything against The Ripple, but it’s a good example to see my point of view). Many people would say that Broad Ripple is a center for diversity and culture in the city - - that is, people under the age of 30. If I go to Broad Ripple on any given evening, I see mostly white faces. If I go to the restaurants in Broad Ripple, same thing. Now BR has amazing ethnic restaurants, stores with cute hippy flowers everywhere, the smell of sandalwood and incense and beers for a quarter…but all I see are young, white people (and a few of us oldies but goodies reliving our past on an occasional night out). I actually see more diverse faces here in Carmel at Target than I do there.

Regarding flavor - I guess that is how exactly you define flavor. Growing up in the south, food was meant to be savored and had multiple layers of flavor and texture. I grew up with New Orleans, Memphis, and Dallas cuisine with a dollop of Mississippi Delta cookin in the middle. It was interesting to me a while back to hear a lady remark that southern food had little flavor….that it all tasted the same….fried. Seriously?? She had been eating at southern chains like Dixie Café way too long!! Southern food is bursting with flavor….and if it's not, we have a bottle of Tabasco right on the table to take care of that. If you expect to find flavor, you will find flavor…..if, however, you are looking for one certain flavor, you may not find it….and be disappointed. You may drive through our neighborhoods and see homogenous homes, but that doesn’t mean that the people inside them are homogenous….or devoid of flavor, culture and interest.

As to culture - culture is of the eye of the beholder. Why is “culture” defined as the dreadlocks, tattooed set ready to protest rally at a moment’s notice? Why is culture defined in one's zipcode - I live on Mass Ave, therefore, I must be cultured. Can I wear a business suit and still be seen as cultured?? What if it was hiding my tattoos?? What if I cut my hair super short, dyed it blonde and wore men's trousers? Would I be cultured then?? I am basically the same person with different window dressing.... What if I gave a million dollars to the arts last year and resided in Carmel?? Would I be cultured then?? What if I looked like your average, every-day American woman but who happens to love art, theater, dogs, books, and is learning French and Serbian to complement her basic rudimentary Italian so she can continue to travel the world with her backpack - Am I cultured?? What do I have to do to get into the cultured club (not to be confused with Culture Club and Boy George....and by the way....would HE be considered cultured??) But I digress....

Is culture simply a prevalence of theaters? What if I don't even go to the theater....can I still be cultured? Is culture defined by an abundance of people from other countries?

In Hamilton County, there is actually a large number of foreign residents - - just take a look at the soccer fields at Off the Wall Soccer and listen to how many different languages you hear. I have friends in Hamilton County who are Indian, Serbian, Russian, French, Greek, Irish, Spanish, Latino, Lebanese, Swiss, African-American, Turkish, Jewish, Gay, Workaholics, Housewives, Artists, Out of Work, Tree Huggers, Religious Far Right, Hippies, and just plain old whitebread Americans.

But my point does not lie in numbers. I am sure that within the loop, the actual numbers are higher. My point and my issue lie in the perception that the suburbs are what is wrong with the US. While I respect greatly the freedom this person has to say those things, I wonder if she would respect my freedom equally. I have overheard people speaking about the stupidity and selfishness of conservatives - somehow conservative ideals are much inferior, however, if a conservative were to espout these same comments, they would be seen as [gasp] intolerant and subsequently disqualified from the human race.

What is wrong with this country is that we don’t give a damn! That’s right - no matter what your zipcode is, what your color, background, gender, sexual orientation, whatever….we are so busy with our lives that we can’t stop for a moment and give to someone else. We will spend beaucoup dollars helping rescue dogs (albiet a great cause) but we will not help a starving homeless person or help an at-risk child with their homework. We see the suffering in countries such as Sudan, India, and Rwanda and turn a blind eye…not even allowing our hearts to warm up for a moment. Our hearts are cold and we get enjoyment out of attacking each other instead of working together to help others. That is what is wrong with this country.

Sister Twitter user - I know men and women in the Suburbs who spend their extra time and their extra money (1) mentoring at risk girls, (2) helping under-served women in prisons and elsewhere (3) helping displaced women prepare for job interviews and telling them they are beautiful (4) building schools in distressed countries (5) tutoring children in homeless shelters and on…and on…and on…and on…. Don’t tell me that we, as residents of the suburbs, are the problem. The suburbs are not the problem. Thought Nazis come in all shapes, colors and creeds - - if the only opinion you EVER find valid is your own, then you are closed-minded. I don’t care if everyone around you agrees with you…if the media agrees with you…if your mentors agree with you…..if you refuse to listen or RESPECT the views of other people…..if you refuse to RESPECT people with a different ideology than you….if you refuse to RESPECT people who live in a different zip code simply because of your PERCEPTION of them, then maybe….just maybe…you are the problem, too.

(picture me handing you a glass of a fabulous red wine as a truce offering)….

The Script

2010-09-21T16:23:00.000-04:00

I was watching Must Love Dogs the other day with John Cusack and Diane Lane and the male lead character (boat making-man) makes a comment that women write a script for men to follow and if somehow they go off script, they are “out”….gone….kaput. Now, I have seen this movie several times and every time I hear that line, I am like……”whatever..”…..that is….until this last time. Listening to those words brought back a memory of a recent discussion the Man and I had.
The Man had offered to help me with a few yard projects over Labor Day weekend (I know----he’s amazing!!!) but, quite honestly, I was a bit skeptical of whether or not he would actually follow through. Now….I do want to give a disclaimer….The Man has always come through for me (unless catastrophe strikes) and any part of me that has skepticism comes from my feeling of being last on the list in my marriage. It’s a knee-jerk reaction for me at times, but I am working on it.

I had to work that Saturday morning and we had plans for the evening, hence time was short for such a large project. The Man offered to come over in my absence and create the flower bed taking out all of the grass around my newly planted hostas, lilies, etc. Yay!! I was so excited!

Well….excited for a little bit. I wanted to remind him……OMG I was like a crack addict I wanted to remind him SO bad! I just knew he would forget….was banking on it!! My heart started beating a bit faster….I checked my phone….no word from him that he was at my house. I know he is going to forget….get busy…hang out…whatever and decide to do the project another day. I literally started getting upset, “he knows this is important to me…I knew he would forget.” So I waited…..and waited...and my recalcitrance to nag became an attitude of, “if I am important, he will remember.” My worries and more importantly, my expectations of him not coming through sent my heart rate through-the-roof!!

I get in the car, hands shaking, writing the “speech” I am going to give him when I get home and he is not there. I am going to call him on his cell--all aloof like I don't care about the stupid flower bed.... I wrote the entire speech…..and then wrote his response to my speech and my response to his response. By the time I got home, I was totally ticked! Why?? Because I wrote the script - cast the characters, plot, motives…the whole nine yards. I walked through my door ready for battle and saw my sweaty man…drinking a glass of iced tea and I would like to say that I melted. But quite honestly, it took me a few seconds to gather up my emotions inside myself. He looked at me, smiled and said, “you thought I would forget.” I said, “yes, I did.” The Man replied, “I will always come through for you, baby.” And it was then that I melted.

Moral of the story: Throw away the script! Shred it!! Burn it!! We seem to think that if we control the plot or at least know what is going to happen that we buffer ourselves from disappointment. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Remember the last time you wrote your script? Remember?? When your self-fulfilling prophecy came to pass, you (that is…..if you are like me) probably said to yourself, “I KNEW IT!” By setting your expectation of disappointment early, the fire of your discontent is at full swing by the time the act actually happens. You have fanned the flames of anger preemptively. By scripting it all out, it makes it easier to check out because you are disappointed, to withdraw emotionally….to create a situation where the punishment doesn’t jive with the offense….a situation where the other person comes into play after you have been stewing on it for hours, days, weeks….and they ask what the big deal is (not knowing that you have been ticked off preemptively for hours now). Baby, that script ain’t no good--ain’t no good at all!!

If you must write a script, create the expectation of love and respect...of kindness and compassion. Treat them as the people you hope they will be - expecting good things. Buck Brannaman once said at a horse clinic, "treat your children as if they are already who you want them to be. Treat them like they are intelligent, respectful, responsible and they will become intelligent, respectful, and responsible. If you treat them like that are irresponsible, dis-respectful and stupid, that is what they will become." The word become is crucial. We are all on a journey...on our way to becoming our best selves. Remember that the next time you get out your pen and start writing that script. Just wait and see what happens and go from there.

Temptations....No Bake Cookies

2010-09-15T16:39:00.000-04:00

The other day, I was desperate for chocolate.....absolutely, positively desperate. I tried water, I tried wine, I tried healthy salsa, but my momma's no bake cookies were calling my name. After posting a photo on facebook, I was asked for the recipe.....so here goes. My momma calls them boiled cookies, some people call them prailines, some cow patties....no matter what you call them, they are sure to satisfy a hefty chocolate craving. Luckily, the man took the rest to the office or I would have been in a chocoalte coma after 24 hours.

Boiled Cookies

3 Cups of sugar

4 Tbl cocoa (I use Hersheys or Hersheys dark, although I use other higher quality cocoas for other things, the Hersheys work best for this recipe)

3/4 Cup whole milk

1 Stick of butter

Dash of Salt

Mix ingredients into a saucepan over medium heat, stirring often. Put out sheets of waxed paper (or aluminum foil) on your counter top/table top. Bring mixture to a good rolling boil (more than a few boil bubbles, a nice hearty boil) and boil for 3 minutes. (This is actually one of the few times I use a timer.....if they are undercooked, they won't harden.....overcooked and they are dry). Remove from heat and add:

1/2 Cup peanut butter

2 Cups oats

1 Tsp vanilla

Stir briskly and quickly drip spoonfulls on your waxed paper. Let sit until hardened.

This recipe is so easy! Let me know how you like it!

Cooking with Grandma

2010-08-20T13:19:00.000-04:00

Check out my guest post on http://www.recipelion.com/ Cooking with Grandma. After reading it again, I am suddenly hungry!!!

Here is the link. Enjoy! http://blog.recipelion.com/guest-post-cooking-with-grandma/

Introducing HRH, The Princess of Argyle

2010-08-19T14:12:00.000-04:00

Introducing……..HRH, The Princess of Argyle.

Imagine if you would a little girl in a sparkly pink dress with layers of ruffles underneath. Her long blond hair is in ringlets with pink, silver, and white ribbons intertwined. Her tiny fingernails are painted a delicate pink with a smattering of glitter. She twirls sparklers and ribbons and sometimes big golden pinwheels. The Princess giggles incessantly and skips from place to place in her white patent leather shoes with frilly white socks (pre-labor day, of course).

Despite her frills and her sparkly frocks, the Princess desperately longs for adventure - to be found worthy - to be important. She wants to play an important part in the world - to offer hope and beauty - to console the suffering - to rescue puppies and kitties.

Not content to stand still and look pretty, the Princess has been known to pull on her daddy’s boots, slip on a piece of armor, and wield his heavy sword in mock battle. She dreams of the day when she can defend the family honor…..save the day…..and be seen as worthy just like her boy cousins.

Life goes on and she learns to use his shield - mostly to protect her heart….to hide the fact that she is shaking in her boots when conflict comes. Large shields are adept at hiding hot tears from her attackers. She learns that the sword can gives her power - power to be brave….to be heard….to be in control - but that sword can also pierce the hearts of others with wounds that sometimes never heal.

This Princess - this little girl lives inside of me. There are times when like Cinderella, she had worn rags and dreamed of better days and there are times where she has shined in all her glory. Sometimes I get protective and don’t let her shine - using the shield to hide her sensitive heart. Sometimes, I pull my daddy’s boots on, grab his shield and the sword so heavy I am not sure I can wield it…….saying…..be brave…..show your worth……show you are worth something….that losing you is painful……and I fight with all my might. I hold down my princess-heart emotions, refuse to see the heart of my opponent and be valiant.
Oh I talk a good game – I act brave and seem to approach things head on…..but deep down inside, I am still a little girl in a pink dress wearing her daddy’s too big boots and armor wielding a sword with all her might to valiantly protect herself from an evil king saying, “you’ll never beat me” all the while wishing someone would come riding up on a big horse, rescue her, and put her safely in the castle with a glass of milk and some cookies. This little girl longs to be brave, to prove that she is worthy…….but if she stops for a second, she will simply just break down and cry.

There is a song by a 90’s Christian group called Small Town Poets with a line that says, “If you let me love you, we’ll sit here and cry.” Sometimes that is all I want……

Can that happen?? Can I be brave and un-brave?? Can I be adventurous yet fragile? Can I protect and allow myself to be protected? It’s complicated……..but that’s why I am a Princess.

Wordless Wednesday - Ode to a Purple Hull Pea

2010-08-18T11:01:00.000-04:00

And the Moral of the Story Is.....

2010-08-15T20:41:00.000-04:00

Isn’t this how it always seems to go???

I lovingly place a tomatillo plant in my garden this spring---my heart beating in anticipation of the pungent sauces I will make with my bounty. I water, I fertilize and take photos of the sweet Japanese lantern-like casings that appear after the flowers have faded.

Suddenly, I realize that Mr. Tomatillo has completely taken over my garden - spreading his tentacles through my peppers, my basil and my tomato plants--overpowering them, shading them, and just generally annoying them. I try to tame Mr. Tomatillo by pruning the ends, hoping that he will learn to play nice with his neighbors, but to no avail. He needs to take up all of the space in my garden….to touch the basil, hover over my precious tomatoes and torture my pepper plants (who have already been through so much with the great rabbit crisis)…..

I notice that the lanterns are turning yellow and falling to the ground with no fruit to show. C’est un problem! C’est mal! I rush over to my keeper of information, my Gateway laptop, and google, “problems with tomatillos.” As I scan the pages upon pages of information, I come to the realization that I have been duped. Mr. Tomatillo needs a mate in order to bear fruit….his flowers will not pollinate themselves, one must plant two (yes, two) plants in order to get the sweet green tomato-like fruit. Holy Jehosophat! Really?? Now why in the world didn’t Lowe’s let me know that in the first place…..just a little sign that says, “Hey….YOU…..city garden girl…..buy TWO plants!”

I spent about a week in denial…..all of my hard work……for naught. This unproductive plant has taken over my entire garden and what am I going to have to show for it?? Zip, zilch, nada…..sigh….*SIGH*

Today, I was a woman on a mission! My garden is wilting in the summer heat and something must give - the strangling, unproductive tomatillo plant. The Man and I go out into the garden…..me with garden loppers in hand and I set out to cut all of the spindly branches off of the plant.

When I was ¾ of the way through, The Man stopped me and asked me a simple question, “Hey….wait……isn’t this a tomatillo??” Right there on the pile of cut branches were budding tomatillo fruit. Now isn’t that just a peach?

Isn’t life like that?? Just when we have it all figured out and start hacking on some unproductive piece of our lives, we realize that we have simply been impatient.

From Garden to Our Late Night Dinner

2010-08-11T13:14:00.000-04:00

Trampled Wildflowers

2010-08-06T09:59:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, it’s easy to write about the difficult things….it’s easy to look back afterwards. There is a lot of fear involved in “real time” interactions….fear that if I admit my stuff, then their inappropriate actions get a “pass” because I was momentarily insane….because I overreacted. I want it to matter that I am hurt…..I want it to matter that my feelings look like little trampled flowers in my garden…wilted…. yellowing… crushed.

As I mulled over these things this morning on my run, I realized that this fear is what keeps us from forgiving others. We hold on the slights, callous words…the actions that hurt our hearts because we desperately want our hurt to matter. Forgiveness feels like one big eraser….erasing their actions forever…but also erasing our hurts. If their actions aren’t remembered, then our crushed and hurting hearts are forgotten….. But WAIT!!! I want to say!!! Want to shout out from the rooftops…..WAIT!!! My heart is still in pieces….it’s shattered all over the floor…crushed. Every time I try and pick up the pieces, one pricks my finger and I bleed all over again….hurt all over again. Better to leave the pieces on the floor as an altar to my hurt….

Here’s the beautiful thing, dear one - if we refuse to keep a record of their actions….if we decide to forgive someone who has hurt us, our feelings still matter. It mattered that we hurt, that a wildfire savagely destroyed the beautiful flowers in our heart. Our hurt is not forgotten…but we need to treat it just like that…..our hurt….and nourish our souls back to health…allowing the flowers to grow again. Although forgiveness may erase their deeds, it does not erase us along with it. As long as we hold on to the offenses they have committed, keeping a precise record of wrong, we are hurt and disappointed over and over and over again. If we let it go, we are free from the cycle of hurt….the cycle of rejection…the cycle of disappointment.

So forgive even when you want to hold on to the hurt. Forgive and live your life in a beautiful way, not waiting for the next disappointment…but instead, living in the moment of joy.

Wordless Wednesday - Tomatillo Lanterns in My Garden

2010-08-04T17:27:00.000-04:00

Pandora's Box

2010-08-02T15:48:00.000-04:00

“I just feel like I can’t get a break!” My girlfriend was discouraged - she had her fair share of hardships in her 30-someodd years of life. Life felt so unfair (as it often is) and she didn’t want much - just some space to breathe….and be happy.

Have you ever felt crushed under the weight of life--like you are squashed under a heap….one thing….and then another…and….yes….another. Health problems….car problems…..kid problems….love problems…..the faucet breaks….then the toilet…..then you spill your coffee on your white carpet…you get a call from your child’s teacher… you forgot a credit card payment….your X let you down….again….. There have been times in the last five years where no amount of tagalongs, ice cream….or even wine could take the stress away (but oh I have tried!!)….

When it seems the whole universe is against you, how do you hold on? How do you not get trampled under the weight of the world?? I had to ask myself, What keeps me going when I am running on fumes???? The answer is Hope --the hope that my struggles are only for a season….that life will be beautiful again…..I will laugh again….Hope that I will be okay. The hope that an argument with my man is just a disagreement and not a sign…..the hope that my finances will someday improve….the hope that Junior will listen to me and not buy that crazy-fast motorcycle (hey….a woman can hope)….

A couple of weeks ago, I was reading a book that mentioned the myth of Pandora. It’s been a while since I’ve studied mythology, so being the expert Googler that I am, I Googled Pandora myth. Now, we have all heard of the term, “Pandora’s Box….” and to the best of my recollection, it seems to be used in terms of opening a can of worms…..but the story of Pandora is way more than one of a foolish girl whose curiosity got the best of her….the story holds the key to coping with all of cruddy stuff life sometimes throws at us….the key to dealing with the unfair, the harsh, the things that beckon us to become bitter.

We have to start with Prometheus…..who saw man shivering down on Earth at night, eating raw meat and generally being miserable. Prometheus felt sorry for men so he arranged for them to have fire. That all seems nice enough…..except that the Gods up on Olympus had forbidden man to have fire as they believed that man would misuse fire and destroy with it. Prometheus knew that men would misuse it, but thought that the good outweighed the bad…..so he tricked Zeus and smuggled fire from his temple inside a hollow fennel plant (fennel is so versatile). Zeus was livid……absolutely livid that his will could be so blatantly disobeyed, so he sought to punish Prometheus and man.

Zeus called Aphrodite to pose while Hephaestus made a clay figure of a woman. He brought the statue to life and granted her with gifts….beauty, charm, cunning, wit, eloquence, deceit, skill, and curiosity. Zeus gave her an urn and said she was to never open it. Zeus offered Pandora as a wife to Prometheus. Prometheus (a pretty sharp cookie) knew it was a trick and declined…..but his brother (not the sharpest crayon in the box) took Pandora as his wife and they settled down in the countryside in a cute little ancient bungalow with a white picket fence…..and all was well in ancient times….. That is…..until the urn started to call her like an opened package of Oreos in the pantry. I can see her now…..walking up to the urn….walking away…..sitting on the couch….reading a book….walking back to the urn….thinking maybe one quick peek (you know……trying to get away with eating only one of the Oreos in the package)….just a quick peek…..and she opens the lid…..nothing happens for a second or two…..her guard lets down…..and then……all of a sudden….every hardship, every calamity, every evil imaginable rushes out of the urn to run amok on the earth…..toil, greed, illness, trickery, theft, mistrust, disloyalty….murder….pain…. all escaped. Panicked, Pandora tries to close the lid quickly, but her fingers fumble and the calamities are flying out so fast! Finally, she gets the lid secured on the urn……only one evil left in the jar…..hopelessness. Utter hopelessness did not escape - leaving hope as the only defense against the hardships of this world. Hope.

There are times that I do not embrace hope…..that I lose sight of hope….that I wallow in the unfairness of life….in how hard life is sometimes. But then….I see it….the bright light of hope at the end of the tunnel….just a pinpoint of light sometimes. But I know that hope never fails if I entwine myself in its safety….if I refuse to become bitter….if I don’t harden my heart to hope. That is what gets me through - Hope.

Wordless Wednesday - Beauty in the Garden

2010-07-28T16:59:00.000-04:00

Beauty in the Garden

Grandma's Recipe Box

2010-07-26T12:54:00.001-04:00

I just returned from spending ten days in Arkansas, my childhood home. It’s been a few years since I have been able to spend that much time with my family and it sure felt good! Being around my family is a reminder of my roots….not just with good southern home cookin’ but a reminder of the legacy of those who came before me…..who shaped me into the creative, complicated woman that I am. I got to spend a day with my Grandma Haley cooking up a storm…..purple hull peas, fried okra, fried corn, banana pudding, and, of course, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. My childhood home is a place where neighbors, family, and friends bring over their extra produce….simply to share. Both of my grandmas looked first to what had they in their pantry and created dinner from there. I think that is where I developed my cooking style….one of creating dinner as I go after seeing what I have on hand and adding whatever seems beautiful.

One morning after Daddy and Darlene cooked breakfast (French toast, bacon, tomatoes, eggs….no wonder my clothes are a little snug right now), we set to looking for my Grandma Jean’s pickle recipe. We pulled her recipe boxes out onto the table and went through them one by one. Seeing my grandma’s handwriting took me back to a time where I sat on the red iron stool watching her cook. She would explain the how’s and why’s of what she was doing and I would write down her instructions one by one. Sitting next to Grandma Jean making biscuits, dumplings, pies, is where I learned cooking was not science but art. One has to “feel” the dough, taste the soup, and add a little bit here and there. Cooking never seemed to be a chore for her…..it was her art…..her contribution to her family…her place to be creative.

While going through those walnut stained boxes, I found a couple of writings. Grandma Jean wrote from her heart and (in my opinion) wrote to work things out in her head (much like I do now). I didn’t realize that she was a writer until I visited her as an adult several years back. Grandma Jean was nearing the latter stages of Alzheimer’s and I felt the need to come for a visit - just the two of us. Sometimes she recognized me and sometimes she didn’t…….we would sit on the porch and wait for Grandpa to get home (he had passed away several years before) and plan our dinner. She would rail about how her kids took away her car saying she was, “gonna take a switch to them,” when she saw them…..and then told me how much her children loved her. Jean had moments of great lucidity where she told me that she thought she was going crazy….that she knew she forgot things….tears would fill her beautiful blue eyes and she would look out the window for Grandpa to come back.....lucid moment gone. She had moments of playfulness when she said we needed to go shopping and spend all of my daddy’s money - which we did - the first shopping outing she had allowed in years. My Grandma was a wise woman….wise in the ways of the heart. As I child, my feelings would get hurt and I would run into another room, find a place on the floor and cry where no one would see me. No one followed me…..and in my little girl mind, it meant that nobody cared….and I would pout. Grandma would find me there hiding between the bed and the wall and tell me how much I was loved….that my daddy loved me and my aunts and uncles loved me…and that God loved me. She never once told me to stop crying…..to stop feeling….she just directed my thoughts to the true nature of things. I loved my Grandma!

Jean was the refuge for many a “problem” child. She would have distant cousins come live with her because (quite honestly) the parents (or the grandparents who were raising them) needed a break. Grandma Jean was firm...she would grab a flyswatter or a switch in a flash or even a glass of cold well water if needed - she could throw a shoe at a misbehaving dog and hit him from 20 yards away...but she would “love those kids like the dickens,” (as she used to say).

Sitting at that table with my Daddy last week, I came across this writing:

Why Fish bite the Worm on Your Fishing Hook

Father like mother loves their little children and little children loves father as well as mother.

Who? has the right to say no you can’t have them.

Both mother and father loves their children. If they, mother and father don’t, they are no parent at all.

But confusion can and will destroy a child’s faith in both mother and father if they are kept away from one or the other. Hate comes in. So in the end what you have is they grow up loving no one, believing in no one, believing that both parents did not care about them. So there, why bother? Sooner or later they will end up like mother and father, caring for no one, just about themselves. Maybe they will get a good job and maybe [meet] a nice person and learn to care about them. And maybe they will marry him or her. But take care and open your eyes and want & will to learn about love and caring-not only about the one you found, but about the mother and father and especially about the little children because they will be grown soon and need to learn to love and care for other people. We are all God’s children and He cares about you and me and every person.

Open your eyes and heart. You are needed. Open your arms.

Grandma had seen so many hurting people using their children as weapons - not allowing them to spend time with their X - not allowing their children to know that their X loves them. She saw the damage it did to the children…..how it shaped their ability to love and to care about anything. Children need to learn to love and learn to care about other people…..even when it is not easy….for us or for them.

Wordless Wednesday - Garden Bounty

2010-07-14T09:50:00.000-04:00

Wordless Wednesday - My Kettle Korn Addiction

2010-07-07T11:05:00.000-04:00

Thank you to my new favorite recipe blog http://pinchmysalt.com/ for inspiring me to have my own Wordless Wednesday post.

My Kettle Korn Addiction

Welcome to the Rockies!

2010-06-28T09:58:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I just blow it! I make a mountain out of a molehill…..sometimes a whole mountain range….Welcome to the Rockies, folks….it’s tough drivin from here on out! I judge my reactions and wonder if I have absolutely lost my mind. Why can’t I get it together and act a little more…..mature and grown up?? I don’t mean for things to fly south…to escalate into an argument the size of Mt. Everest…it’s just that things seem to take a life of their own like Mr. Toad’s wild ride…once you are on…it’s on.

Sometimes, I think I am the only one who does this - who gets her feelings hurt and withdraws and hides to pout and nurse my feelings. After a while, I look around and nobody’s noticing that I am pouting….as a matter of fact, they are quite happy to enjoy their day. DON’T THEY SEE THAT I AM TRYING TO MAKE A STATEMENT?? Don’t they see that I am hurt? How can this be? I am the princess of all that. I mull over every single reason for this oversight….and…..BINGO…..I’ve got it…..they just don’t care. Well FINE, I don’t care either….as a matter of fact…..I am going to not care more than them….I am going to not care 10 times the amount they don’t care….as a matter of fact….to prove how much I don’t care I am going to sit right beside them, shake my foot and not say a word to them……or maybe a curt fine every once in a while. Just stare straight ahead - eyes locked on the tv, the road, my coffee cup…..see how much I don’t care.

Am I like 14?? Holy cow, Becky!!! I have gone from feelings hurt to “you don’t care” to “I don’t care” in 0.6 seconds. The only place to go from there is the Rockies….the fight….the wedge driven between two people. Have I not learned anything in the last 5 years….or in the 16 years I was married?? It doesn’t work.

The problem lies in that I desperately want to be liked….to be adored….to be cherished, respected, loved, cared for. I want everyone to like me….the mailman, the paperboy, my neighbors, my friends…..The Man’s children and….well…even his X. I walk into a room full of strangers and a momentary fear grips me…..will I be accepted? Will they judge me for talking too loud, too much…not enough? Will my words be respected or seen as trivial? Will they want me to come back? Worry…worry ….worry…worry!!!

The question is, though, is my sensitivity something I need to change or something I need to manage? Sometimes I want to cut the nerve endings to my feelings so they won’t get tramped on…..but then again, those deep rooted feelings are what allow me to love, to forgive, to understand…to see beauty and feel it down to my toes. Maybe I just don’t need to be in another relationship……maybe a committed relationship is exactly where I need to be….. the uncertainty makes me want to sprout wings and fly….fly far away…fly to Tahiti, lie in a hammock and drink a mai tai under the Pacific sun.

I don’t know the answers…but I do know that I hate it when I blow it!!! I hate it mostly because when I do….sometimes I hurt those I care about and cause their hearts to ask the same questions I am asking now. Love is patient….love keeps no record of wrongs….love always hopes, always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. It is kind, doesn’t look for evil and is not proud. Love never fails….even when I do.

A Lesson in Forgiveness

2010-06-22T18:07:00.000-04:00

I just finished reading a book by Immaculee Ilibagiza about her experience in surviving the genocide in Rwanda in the early 1990’s. The book, Left to Tell, is an inspiring story of survival, love, and learning to forgive those who have caused immeasurable pain.

Forgiveness……I remember that word. It means, in essence, that the other person doesn’t owe you anything - there is no debt to be repaid, no suffering required, no payback. Forgiveness is not forgetting, but it’s more of a remembering without malice. Many times, forgiveness is a process and sometimes you find yourself back at the beginning when you were about to “win” the game. Forgiveness is not easy…..especially in the case of my X where I find myself having an endless supply of new things to be ticked off about and all of the old patterns and ancient hurts resurface.

Reading the words of Immaculee, I find myself drawn to her struggle - drawn to how honest she is about the difficulty in forgiving. Immaculee had decided in her heart to forgive former friends who brutally murdered her family, her neighbors, her schoolmates. She seemed to have already won the battle of forgiveness….passed into the other side….taken the high road. But then, after the genocide is over, she visits her family home. She writes:

As we drove away from my home, past the unmarked mounds of dirt that covered Mother and [my brother], I felt the bitter, dirty taste of hatred in my mouth…I looked at the faces peering at us as we passed, and I knew with all my heart that those people had blood on their hands - their neighbors blood…my family’s blood. I wanted the soldiers to douse Mataba in gasoline and let me light the match that would reduce it to ashes….My soul was at war with itself. I’d struggled so hard to forgive, but now felt duped for having done so; I had no clemency left in me. Seeing my home in ruins and visiting the lonely, forgotten graces of my loved ones had choked the life out of my forgiving spirit.

For me, the most difficult part about forgiving is the fear that my pain will be forgotten - that all of my tears would be for nothing…they wouldn’t count anymore because everything will be “okay.” When the chalkboard of offenses is erased, my tears and my hurt go with it. Sometimes, I just want my pain to matter….to be important….to be remembered. The hard part is that pain takes a lot of energy to hold onto. Have you ever tried to hold onto a cat that desperately wants to flee? Holding onto hurt and pain is like holding onto that cat - it takes a lot of energy – energy that sucks the life out of your heart.

Although I can’t imagine forgiving my former friends and neighbors from brutally murdering my family, I do know what it feels like to forgive a former friend for her part in tearing apart the nice little life I had built for myself and my family. To be honest, the hurt was exhausting and holding onto it kept me angry and bitter for a good long year. I am not by nature an angry and bitter person. One day, I woke up and knew it was time….time to forgive. I drove to her house, heart thumping loudly, knocked on her door, and said….”I just don’t want to hate you anymore.” We talked for a long time sitting on her living room floor. She cried….I cried…. I finally had to ask, “Are you even sorry? Did my hurt matter to you?” Honestly, I didn’t feel as if my hurt mattered to anyone - I felt abandoned…by my husband, by friends, my church. Since my X was a worship pastor, we had been cast out of the church…my friends felt awkward around me…and although I tried to shelter my teenage children, they heard the rumors and they were hurting. My carefully crafted life was in ashes, but to stay there amidst the ashes…to build a memorial there…to camp out on the shore of bitterness and hurt would be resigning myself to a life of bitterness and hurt…so I had to choose. What do you want, Becky? A life where you are totally pissed off at your X about what he did or did not do? Is that what you really want?? Do you want to be one of those people who have to get in a snarky word at every turn--to prove that I am the victim and he made the biggest mistake of his life when he lost me? Really?

When Immaculee saw the man who led the band of murderers in her village - the man who killed her mother, father, and brothers…not just in a night of mayhem, but who actually hunted them down and killed them. He had hunted her as well - wanted her family’s property as his own. When Immaculee came face to face with her former neighbor…the father of her childhood friends….the brutal murderer of her family, she touched his hand lightly and quietly said, “I forgive you.” The politician in charge of arresting those who committed these atrocities was livid! He wanted her to spit on this man’s face…to shame him…to exact vengeance. When he asked Immaculee why she would forgive such a man, she replied, “Forgiveness is all I have to offer.” She had no family, no money….only forgiveness…but in offering that forgiveness, she gave herself something that money can’t buy - a whole heart….a heart that can love again, hope again, trust again. By forgiving, she allowed herself to live.

I want to shout it out to every ex-wife out there - Live!!! Move on!! Forgive!! Make your new life beautiful and let your ex do the same! May I remember that lesson myself every single day!

Picnic Fame

2010-06-20T16:17:00.000-04:00

My love affair with the picnic began when I was a small child, when we would make pimento cheese sandwiches and cookies, throw them in the ice chest with some cokes and head to the lake for the day. Later, as an adult, I was introduced to a whole new level of picnicking at Symphony on the Prairie…..what I affectionately call frou-frou picnicking….with real wine glasses, serving bowls, cloth napkins, candles, cheese boards, and a beautiful spread. I adopted the practice of frou-frou picnicking with gusto….developing my own picnic style….finding accessories along the way….baskets, cheeseboards, wineglass holders for the lawn….

Last year, the Man and I decided to take our frou-frou picnic to the infield of the Indy 500. I had always sat in the stands for the race, but was intrigued with the idea of a day-long picnic watching pretty cars go by at 200 miles per hour. Now the Indianapolis Motor Speedway doesn’t allow glass containers, so we had to get a bit creative. I tend to be a *bit* of a wine snob, so boxed wine was out of the question. The Man and I wandered up and down the liquor aisle until we found it…..a box of pre-made margaritas. It was small enough to put into my small cooler so we were set!! We put my pink-striped tablecloth in the picnic basket, along with my amber polypropylene margarita glasses and a deck of cards and created our picnic fare. We cubed gouda and cotswolds cheeses, stirred up some fresh guacamole, rolled up roast beef and cheese pinwheels, and made our famous Tunisian Cous-Cous Salad. Since it was quite toasty outside, for dessert we made a fruit salad with strawberries, Marscapone cheese, and walnuts. It was a feast fit for a king!!!

At the track, we found the perfect picnic spot halfway up the berm on Turn 3. We spread out the pink tablecloth (please don’t judge him for the pink…..he was just makin’ me happy!), arranged our fest just so, and poured ourselves margaritas. Life is good!!! A voice behind me shouted, “are those champagne glasses?”

Read the rest of the post on recipe lion: http://blog.recipelion.com/guest-post-picnic-fame-from-becky-p-divorced-diva/

Check me out on Recipe Lion!!

2010-06-20T16:11:00.000-04:00

Hooray!! I have been asked to become a guest blogger on a recipe site. I guess all of those hours spent cooking have worked their magic! Check out the Recipe Lion blog page at: http://blog.recipelion.com/

Here is a copy of their announcement:

RecipeLion is pleased to introduce a new guest blogger! Her name is Becky, and she has an awesome blog of her own called The Divorced Diva’s Guide to Survival.

Growing up in central Arkansas, Becky was greatly influenced by the Creole cuisine from Louisiana, Mississippi delta rice-based dishes, Texas BBQ and, of course, the flavorful food of the south. She watched her grandmas create flavorful dishes from food they raised and grew on their farms and learned at an early age the age old wisdom in entertaining…if you have enough good food, everyone is happy. Becky’s travels throughout Europe and Asia have refined and expanded her culinary horizons.

Becky raised her two children on a 650 acre farm in Rush County, Indiana where they raised horses, dogs, cats, cattle, chickens, ducks and sheep. Now that her children are grown, Becky lives in Carmel, Indiana where she scours local farmers’ markets for the freshest produce, grows herbs, tomatoes, and peppers in her back yard garden and supports local producers and resellers of fine foods. When she is not cooking and drinking fine wine, Becky is a Realtor at the Dream Home Company in Indianapolis.

Check out her blog, The Divorced Diva’s Guide to Survival.

Welcome, Becky!

Toes on the Ledge

2010-06-17T13:01:00.001-04:00

This morning, I laced up my Rykas and went for a run on the Monon determined to have a good run. The Monon has to be my favorite place to run. Unlike running on the sidewalk by my house, the Monon forces me to unfocus…to get into the zone of running. There are no cars zipping past….no houses, schools, stores. It’s just pavement, trees, and little chipmunks zipping under my feet.

My iPod shuffle creates a running mix of my favorite songs and I run...one footfall at a time….step….step…step. My right brain kicks into overdrive and I just start thinking….not solving anything, but simply musing and mulling.

My little white earbuds bring the words of David Gray’s song, Breathe, to the forefront of my mind. I listen to the lyrics and contemplate.

Wink, wink and the moment’s gone

And then the doorbell rings.
Somebody asks you, could
you spare a little time
to feel the weight that’s mine

to lower down your guard.
Yeah, that your heart gets snagged,
caught in the wheels and dust dragged.
Dangled o’er the edge….breathe.

You feel you’re in too deep,
so offer up some crumb
and drop it in the tin,
then slither back within
your crenelated wealth
your educated self
your family, your rude health
all the joy it brings.

Aren’t we forgetting something?
Feet out on the ledge, feet on the ledge.
Breathe.

Then in the heat of noon,
it finds like some dog
got parked up in a field
hermetically sealed
and scratching at the windshield
and howling at the glass
at anyone might walk past.
Were you not aware?

Breathe, the sea of broken lives
mechanics, doctors, housewives.
Feet out on the ledge
Breathe

Feet out on the ledge….feet out on the ledge…..breathe…..breathe. Boy have I been there!!! On the ledge….wanting to end a relationship, to quit….Have you ever just wanted to quit?? Quit your job, quit being a mom, quit being a daughter, sister, friend, neighbor. Feet out on the ledge, suffocating in disappointment…suffocating in the fact that I disappoint others….surrounded by the sea of broken lives…..breathe, Becky…just breathe!

What keeps me going when I want to pack my bags and fly to Tahiti?? What keeps me still when I want to run? Grace!! Grace is air for the soul to breathe. A kind word, a sympathetic ear, a hug, a friend who loves me knowing that sometimes I am a jerk. Breathe Becky…..breathe in the air of grace!

My feet hit the ground in rhythm of the song….crunch…crunch…crunch. Running….it’s what I do. Things aren’t going well, I hit the door…I escape…mentally, emotionally, physically. I hide….sometimes in full view…mostly because I am afraid. What if they see the real, imperfect me and cast me away?? Toes on the ledge……breathe.

Grace is the fluid that keeps relationships working well…..it’s the oil for the engine, keeping things running smoothly. When grace is freely given and freely received, there are obstacles to get over, but lasting damage is minimal. Grace is allowing myself to love and encourage when the other person doesn’t really deserve it…grace is knowing their annoying tendencies and not judging them for it. Grace keeps no records of wrongs, always hopes, always protects. Grace allows the other person to be herself in a healthy manner and allows space to breathe whereas a legalistic approach to a relationship is suffocating.

Growing up in-and-out of church, I heard preachers speak about “works based faith.” You know, where you have to “work” your way into the pearly gates through a series of doing good things and avoiding bad things. It’s a never-ending list of self-improvement done not because of great love and respect but out of obligation. I think human relationships suffer from this same viewpoint - we do things out of obligation…simply because of our obligation….and we resent the hell out of it! We expect others to do things out of obligation - we manipulate them (girls are especially good at this) to see things our way, we cajole, threaten abandonment, and bring in the big guns….the giant guilt trip….and people resent the hell out of us when we do. When we operate in obligation, we “offer up some crumb and drop it in the tin then slither back within.” We give a pittance to the other person and return to our hiding place. As David Gray says, “Aren’t we forgetting something?” Breathe……grace.

Blending

2010-06-12T12:04:00.001-04:00

So the topic on my mind today is family blending. My girlfriends and I have spent many an hour talking about the successfully navigating having a relationship where children (even adult children) are involved. I have learned through these discussions that everyone has different expectations in blending families. Does anyone out there have success stories or even tips of what not to do that they learned the hard way? What expectations do you have in blending?

Do I Look Chubby???

2010-06-07T17:49:00.000-04:00

So last night, The Man and I had a conversation that went like this:

Becky: “I just saw a photo tagged of me on Facebook - I think that outfit made me look chubby…..why didn’t you tell me it made me look chubby??”
V: “I couldn’t tell you that”
Becky: “Well…..do you think I am chubby?”
V: “Do you think you look chubby?”
Becky: “I want to know if you think I’m chubby.”
V: “Of course not - but the question is whether or not you are happy with yourself”
Becky: “Is that code for saying I look chubby without having to tell me?”
V: laughs “No….it’s not code….can we change the subject?”
Becky: “But I want to know…… Would you tell me if I was?”
V: “Babe, this is a no-win for me…..there is no way I would tell you that….I think you look fine.”
Becky: “But you just said that you wouldn’t tell me so how do I know you aren’t lying to me right now?”
V: “Okay, I won’t lie to you - I think you look good.”
Becky: “So would you tell me I look good if I didn’t?”
V: “No, I wouldn’t……hey….let’s watch an episode of The Closer.”

Did I really want my man to tell me that I looked chubby??? Hell-to-the-no!!! I felt a little insecure after seeing the photo and wanted some assurance that I was still attractive to him. The difficult part is that I want authentic assurance…..to know that what he is saying to me is indeed true…..a difficult thing in his perspective because we all know that there is only one truly acceptable answer…..yes…..or change the subject.

I know that I’m not in the shape I was in when we first met. After my partial hysterectomy, I gained a considerable amount of weight (now pushing 20 lbs). (Don’t you love it that I can blame it on the surgery…..and not my love for food and recalcitrance to exercise). When I stepped on the scale this morning, I let out a gasp 150!!!!!! OMG!!!! OMG!!! OMG!!!! Just last week I was hating 144….and the kicker is that I WAS GOOD!!! This is week four into my re-initiation to running and I feel strong. I have cut WAY down on simple carbs and have been watching my portions. I have even cut back (somewhat) on the consumption of calorie-laden alcoholic drinks. What gives????? I am back to the weight I was in 2004 when I discovered the X’s affair. He always told me I was sexy and beautiful…..and then slept with my friend who could be a Victoria Secret model…..tall…..thin…..beautiful…..grrrrrrr…..

As I laced up my Rykas to go on my run, I felt strong. I reminded myself to not grow weary in doing what is right because in due time I will be rewarded. I rededicated myself to continue with my good habits and not fall off the wagon into fields of chocolate ice cream. The Man is right…..it’s all about whether or no I want to make a change….not whether or not he thinks I should make a change. I just need to be consistent….I did not gain the weight in a month, (as a matter of fact, I coasted at the same ideal weight for about six months before it started creeping up) so I will not lose it in a month. *sigh* I am so impatient.

But for me….for now….I’ve gotta just keep on truckin!

Paintbrushes and Vision Boards

2010-06-04T11:54:00.003-04:00

One thing that kept me sane during my divorce was the promise of an opportunity to paint my life the way I wanted it……to use bright colors and hues……to be bold and creative…to create a living masterpiece. I have a coffee can full of paintbrushes…small and large…heavy and light…to paint my life. Lately though, the thought of my life portrait has been making me a little……well….crazy!!!! I can do anything I want, be anyone I want to be…..my kids are grown and out of the house so I have the time to pursue the things I love...wine…. cheese…. art…. chocolate…..good books…. outings with friends….so what gives??

The question that looms in my mind is, “what if the picture I paint doesn’t turn out just right…what if I draw it wrong, use the wrong colors?” “What if what I think I want right now isn’t what I want.” “Do I even know what I want??” I feel like a 6 year-old saying I want to be a princess when I grow up….I want to live in a mansion on the beach with horses and a shiny new bike…..I want to ride elephants in India and dive for pearls in Tahiti…..and be a professional ice skater. For a girl who was raised to be decisive, my life right now is anything but.

Part of the issue is The Man and I have been dating for almost a year and a half. I can’t dodge the, “is it serious?” question anymore because….well….it is serious. I kindof like him and could see him around when I am 80 and chasing monkeys off my back porch in Thailand. Our relationship has brought back the feelings of being rooted and settled….of hanging out on the deck at night instead of having a glass of wine at a bar….of kids and family and household chores….but that question of how I am going to paint my life looms in the background….I have to share my painting….am I okay with that?? What if we hate each other in 10 years?? What if we love each other in 10 years and are stuck in a rut?? What if….what if….what if?? It’s maddening!!!!!

This morning, I went back to my vision board to see what I envisioned for 2010. Every January, my girlfriends and I create a poster-board of our vision for our lives in the coming year. We hang out, cut pictures out of magazines, talk, share, and create our vision for the year. Some ladies keep all of their boards, but I throw the previous one away to keep the focus on the current year.

Looking at my vision board, I see lots of words:

Reimagine Yourselves as Weekend Connoisseurs**Have Cheese, Will Picnic**Living the Unexpected Challenge Yourself **May the life within you be strong**LIVE!**12 Months of Good Health
Acts of Friendship**Savor**Dance**Difference**A killer Pair of Heels**SOUL

and lots of images:

Pancakes, outdoor dining, beach chairs, terracotta pots, fruits and vegetables, picnic baskets, journal writing, farmers’ markets, friends having coffee, margaritas, canned tomatoes, a rolling pin, books, serene backyard scenes

When I look at my vision board for 2010, I was surprised. I am not waiting to paint my life….deciding what it should look like…..it’s already here….already complete….the masterpiece of my heart. The life I really want is now and I am already living it. I look at my vision board and breathe. It’s not about the big master plan it’s about living each moment as I want to….adding beauty and sparkle to the every day. I don’t have to choose…..I just have to live….to be myself…and savor the moments that make ordinary life special.

The Impact of Words

2010-06-01T12:52:00.002-04:00

Words….I just love words. I love the “feel” of some words…the image they project, the feelings they inspire, and even just the sound of them. I definitely have favorites….ones I use incessantly. There are also words I dislike, words that make me cringe inside, that hurt my feelings. Sometimes I think we forget the power that resides in words - - we forget how they affect those around us and even how they affect ourselves.

I am trying to get back into the habit of running. For me, running is just that - a habit. If I keep my momentum, I will run every day without much thought to it. If I start to blow it off…..it’s harder to lace up my Rykas and step outside the door. It’s important to me to keep on track - when I run, my clothes fit better and I am a more confident and stronger person. I got out of the habit of running during the recovery of my partial hysterectomy a year and a half ago. I tried to pick back up the habit last spring, but there were days where my insides jiggled too much, I would have pain, would freak out and stop (yes, I am a closet hypochondriac). I tried to pick the habit up last summer but I was too busy. I tried to pick up the habit last fall, but the weather did not cooperate and so on and so forth……hence……I gained 15 pounds and my clothes are a bit….well….tight.

Running is more of a mental exercise for me than anything else. I get bored….or more telling…I simply get mentally tired of running. I will tell myself, “don’t stop - don’t stop- DON’T STOP” and the second the words go through my brain, I stop. Recently, I have changed my mantra - I tell myself, “Go Becky…..just go!!” This changes things for me mentally. The power of a proactive word for me is incredible! Telling myself to “do” something instead of “don’t” do it pushes me to do the right thing.

Proactive words work for children as well. When I would tell my son not to have a “tone” when he spoke to me, a tense discussion ensued about whether or not he actually had a tone. However, when I requested that he speak to me respectfully, his tone would change. The words, “Don’t be late” changed to “remember to be on time.” Our relationship improved dramatically.

Words can do damage. When I’m angry, I sometimes say things I don’t mean. The next day, I’ve forgotten them because…..well….I didn’t mean them…so they were of no lasting consequence to me. However, my words of anger take root in the person on the receiving end. Those words become part of the hurtful “tape” that plays in their head. By flinging my words carelessly, I have caused another person to hurt…not just upon receipt…but over and over again.

When I am the recipient of hurtful words, more often than not, the old Becky arrives on the scene….batten down the hatches…..drop the sail….circle the wagons…..don’t be vulnerable….don’t care….focus on something else…..all because of a few words…..a few….little….bitty words. Words are powerful things.

Undercover Shopper

2010-05-28T12:29:00.000-04:00

I am the Queen of Shopping - the Princess of Purchasing. Although I try hard to stay within my budget as a single mom, I love the thrill of the sale, the challenge of finding just the right gift, the satisfaction of checking the last item off my “to do list.” Whether it be shoe shopping, grocery shopping or all things in between, I find my Zen State ……with the exception….of car shopping. Car shopping gives me the hives! I would rather organize my closets, mop my floors and even wash the neighbor’s cat before I embark on a car purchase. Repair bills for my current car may pile up, interior features may fall of, and scratches and dents may accumulate…..and still I procrastinate car shopping.

I have done some soul searching to figure out exactly WHY this is. I grew up in a family full of mechanics and while I am no Mona Lisa Vito, I have a basic grasp of how cars work (well, how cars work circa 1986). The colors are shiny, the prospects are numerous….so what gives?? After doing a little bit of research via Twitter and Facebook in my group of friends/followers, I have come to the conclusion that in general (and as a group), women don’t like to shop for cars. Now, there are some women who are up to the challenge because it IS a challenge…..they go in informed, confident and determined to get the car they want at the best deal. But, quite honestly, that proves my point….it’s not an easy task.

Based on my research, women do not like to shop for cars because (1) they are shown cars that they do not want and do not like, (2) they are spoken to on a kindergarten level, (3) salesmen b.s. them, (4) their questions are brushed off and (5) they feel that they do not get as good of a deal as the men when it comes to final price. BINGO!!! My quirky need to be the best of everything is QUASHED when I shop for cars. In the past, my car buying process went like this:

The X and I go to a car lot where I patiently explain to the salesman exactly what I am looking for - - color, style, price, size. I give him my specifications and also mention that I HATE silver cars. The salesman looks at me like a little girl in pigtails and knee socks, listens to me with a patronizing smile, and then turns to my X for confirmation that I said is correct. He proceeds to take us to the back lot and presents styles of cars that I specifically said I didn’t like AND to top it off, they are ALL silver. On one such outing, the salesman aggressively tried to sell me a car I didn’t like in a color I didn’t like for a price I couldn’t afford. Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh, looked at my X and asked me why I didn’t want to buy that car. I replied, “Because it is ugly.” My X was mortified…why in the world would I tell the man his cars were ugly???? Holy cow, I didn’t say his children were ugly, I said the cars were ugly. We leave the car lot empty handed and unhappy.

After a few such experiences, I found if I took a man as a decoy, I am free to shop at my leisure at the cars I WANT to look at without the pesky salesman trotting me off to look at cars they need to move that month. With my decoy man in tow, I ask important questions through a testosterone translator and have a better overall sales experience. The salesman typically gets sent off to look up a price while my token man and I discuss important strategy. Now, I know that I should be all “woman power” and all that, but for me…it worked like a charm.

At a Tweet-up a couple of months back, I spoke with Chris Theisen at Hare Chevrolet about my car buying strategies. Hare Chevy had formed an alliance with a woman-centered car company and Chris thought I should check out their dealership as an undercover shopper to see if my experience would be any different. Now the opportunity to be undercover (the Sidney Bristow of car shopping) far outweighed any hesitancy on my part about car shopping and I decided I was up for the challenge.

I dolled myself up and even threw on a fabulous Parisian scarf and a pair of 3 inch heels for good measure (no one said I played fair!). I am shopping as a girl, so I was going to be the girliest girl I could be straight-faced. As I drove into Hare Chevrolet, I found my hands quivering at bit….I was nervous. Good grief, Becky….pull yourself together…this isn’t top secret government weaponry, it’s car shopping! I walked around the car lot and over comes my prey….I mean…my salesperson, Reneau. I start off telling him that I am a real estate agent whose powder blue Audi A4 was always in the shop and I was looking for something stylish but not flashy that would be good for my business. (InSpygame , Robert Redford tells Brad Pitt that the secret of good spy work is in telling as much truth as you can in your details). I tell Reneau that I hate silver cars and think that I would make a great undercover agent.

Reneau shows me a couple of Cadillacs--I told him they were too flashy. He showed me a Saab--I told him that my boyfriend said they were unreliable. Reneau began to give me good solid details about cars and the differences between them. His experience in the car industry showed. I asked several elementary questions and even some “what is this do-hicky” questions to see if he would take the stance of “let me help you little Missy,” but he always treated me with respect and gave me loads of information. Reneau walked up to a silver car and I instantly became skeptic, however, much to my surprise, he mentioned the Buick was a good car and he had one across the lot that wasn’t silver. Then…..I see it….I tried to ignore it for the sake of my undercover shopping….but it started calling out to me…..the Camero.

I inched over to the Camero section while looking at select cars in between--trying to look for “work cars” at a budget price. Finally, I could stand it no longer and I asked him about the Cameros. NOW we are shoppin!!! Reneau told me of the three main differences in the Camero. I wanted a sun roof (they don’t come in convertible - booh), an automatic transmission and the sporty package. Although we didn’t find one that was a total match, I was enamored. We went for a test drive. I was able to quiz his knowledge on cars even more and see if he continued to treat me as an equal or as “just a girl.” We spoke price in general terms. I told him that I was not ready to buy today and he was okay with that. He told me to take my time.

In the end, I admit I was pleasantly surprised. My experience with Reneau Simpson and Hare Chevrolet was a good one. I intentionally came to the lot acting ill informed and indecisive. I spent a good hour on the lot and felt no pressure. Although I love Carlito, my high-maintenance Audi, that Camero gave me something to think about!

Friendship is a Journey

2010-05-18T14:02:00.002-04:00

The Man and I went home to the great state of Arkansas, the Natural State, the Land of Opportunity, Hawg Country, the state that holds all of my childhood memories in her hands. Both of our trips to my childhood home have been short and I have had to pack every memory I want to share with him into a scant few days...going to Lake Ouachitia (via boat and via meandering raft), wandering the farms of my grandparents, and eating my favorite Arkansas Cuisine (Stubby’s Barbeque and Catfish from Cajun Broiler). On this trip, we planned a visit to Petit Jean Mountain (subject of a previous blog about needing adventure). Petit Jean has a stunning view of the Arkansas River Valley were one can see for miles. Petit Jean also has a stunning hike to a waterfall, Cedar Falls. http://www.petitjeanstatepark.com/things_to_do/trails/cedar_falls.aspx

It was a beautiful day - not too hot and not too humid. The Man, my little Chickadee, my Mama and I embarked down the trail. Now, I say the words trail with a bit of hesitation as there were times when the “trail” was simply a stretch of large rocks to navigate, creeks to cross, and boulders to go around. Here in Indiana, if there is a sign that warns wannabe hikers that the trail is strenuous, you know that it has a bit of a hill grade. This trail, however, took strenuous to a new level!!! The Man at one point thought that Chickadee and I were out of our minds when we took shortcuts down the side of the mountain…..but I was home and I was happy!!

As we hiked down the mountain (and pondered our hike back UP said mountain), we kept an eye out for each other...stopping to give a hand to ensure no one slipped and looking for the best way to navigate large rocks, muddy trails and steep inclines. Sometimes Chickadee would lead, sometimes Mama would lead and sometimes the Man and I would lead chit-chatting along the way. Occasionally, one of us would go their own way for a bit (I just had to cross the creek instead of taking the rickety bridge across) and we would meet up again. We warned each other of impending danger...watch that poison ivy! Don’t put your hand between the rocks when you go down!! There might be snakes!!...and we took pictures at every opportunity.

From time to time, a woman would stop me and inquire about my choice of hiking attire. I had on a cute pair of black shorts, my Josef Seibel leather sandals (they are soooo cute and practical as they have excellent grips on the bottom and flexion - I wore them through Greece and Turkey) and carried my cute leather clutch from ReFind (a girl needs her purse). Now, being an experienced hiker, I understand the principles of good hiking shoes/socks/gear and am not in any way advocating unsafe behavior, however, I have hiked up Vesuvio in Naples watching Italian women going up the side of the volcano in short skits and stilettos…even the elderly women were wearing heels….but I digress. It gave Chickadee great pleasure to watch these sweet mother hens clucking away at my poor choice of attire, reminding her of all the times I fussed at her for shoe choices (although I still maintain that plastic flip-flops are shower shoes and should only be worn in the most casual of situations)….. Chickadee smiled her brilliant smile knowing that her mother is definitely, “one of a kind.”

What I enjoyed most about our outing was the ease of our interactions. We accepted each other as we were--limitations and all. We helped one another without judgment and offers of help were gladly accepted. When The Man presented his hand to help me up a rock, it was gladly received even though I am quite capable of scaling up the side of a rock. When Chickadee and I had different approaches to navigating the boulders to get under the waterfall, we allowed each other space to do so while keeping an eye out for danger. That’s what friendship is all about….being fellow hikers on the journey of life. Friendship is about allowing the other to take their own path (even though it may be different for a moment) and still helping them out (even if their path turned out to be a mistake). Sometimes in friendship, you get to stand underneath a waterfall and enjoy the majesty and beauty of it all and sometimes it’s the hard work of climbing to the top over rocks and trees and steep, slick paths. Our destination was the waterfall, but our journey did not stop there. We had to do the hard work of going back up. It would have been nice to set up camp at the waterfall...to stay in that place of beauty forever…..but we had to keep moving….had to get back on the daily trail of life (and of course, look for our next adventure).

When I got divorced, I realized how important friendships are. I changed zip codes and began to rebuild my life...a life full of beauty and adventure, of being seen and being known, of new friendships and new horizons. The friendships I made are invaluable to me…but to make those friendships, I had to allow myself to be open to new people and face my own fear of being rejected by them. It is only in openness that friendships can grow. My girlfriends (and guyfriends) have helped me to soar to heights unimaginable three years ago.

So Here’s To the Journey!!! The journey is what it is all about.

Coca-Cola Cake Recipe

2010-05-18T11:16:00.000-04:00

Growing up in the Great State of Arkansas, potluck dinners and lunches were a favorite! It was always a good day when someone brought a coca-cola cake!!!

As requested on Twitter, the following is my coca-cola cake recipe. This recipe was adapted from my fav-o-rite cookbook by Nigella Lawson, How to Be a Domestic Goddess. I use this book a lot!!

When making the cake this time, I followed her instructions to put it in a spring form pan lined with foil, however, the cake is most often made in a 9x13 cake pan. I liked the look of the pretty, round, chocolaty cake, so I will probably prepare it this way again……it’s yummy!!!! Although I haven’t tried this (yet) I imagine that one could substitute a cane syrup root beer or some other more “organic” drink.

Also don’t let the cooking part of the cake recipe intimidate you -- it doesn’t take more than a few minutes and the results are heavenly!!!

Coca-Cola Cake

Cake:

1 1/3 cups all purpose flour (I used cake flour--always stir or sift flour before measuring)
¾ cup plus 1 T sugar (I simply added half of the ¼ cup measuring cup extra)
½ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
2 large eggs
½ cup buttermilk (don’t substitute this--it makes the cake!!!)
1 tsp vanilla (use the real stuff not the fakey stuff for best results)
½ cup butter (again don’t substitute--margarine is just not the same)
2 tbl cocoa powder (I used Hershey’s special dark--although Ghirardelli is my standby)
¾ cup coca-cola

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and put in a baking sheet (I used a baking stone). Prepare your spring form pan by lining it on the outside with aluminum foil (it will drip) and grease the bottom and sides (I used veg oil, but you could use butter).

In a saucepan, gently (ie: low heat) melt butter, add the cocoa powder mixing until it is smooth and add coca-cola. You don’t want this to boil. While you are waiting for butter to melt, combine flour, sugar, baking soda and salt in a large bowl (you will eventually put all ingredients in this bowl). In a small bowl beat the eggs and add buttermilk and vanilla.

Pour the warm coca-cola mixture into the flour mixture and stir until well blended. Add the buttermilk mixture and stir well. Pour into the prepared pan and bake for around 40 minutes (for the spring form pan) or until a cake tester comes out clean. Now, this is a very thin cake, so if you check it and it’s not quite done, don’t wait too long to check again as you want this cake to be moist!

Put cake on cooling rack for about 15 minutes before unmolding. When ready to unmold, carefully run a butter knife along the edges to ensure it doesn’t stick. Place the cake on whatever serving dish you are going to use. The icing drips and runs, but that is part of the charm.

Icing:

1 ½ Cups powdered sugar
2 T butter
3 T Coca-cola
1 T cocoa powder
½ tsp vanilla

Sift the powdered sugar (I didn’t - - but I had to make sure the lumps were smushed with a spoon). In a saucepan, melt butter on low heat and add coca-cola and cocoa and stir until all is combined. Remove from heat and add vanilla and slowly combine powdered sugar stirring out the lumps.

I poked the cake with a toothpick and poured a little bit of extra coke over the cake for extra moistness (not too much). Pour the warm icing over the cake and allow to cool completely before serving. (When I was growing up, some people added pecans or walnuts to the icing or on top).

Mutual Accountability

2010-03-24T14:51:00.002-04:00

One would think I’d be happy….. After all, I am home an hour early from class…..have more time to get my work “to do’s” done, study, and get ready for my outing this evening with The Man. One would think……

The problem is, however, that I am quite unhappy about it. Of all the classes I took this semester, this was the one I was most excited about….the one that grabbed me and said, “oh you must take this class.” It was love at first course-catalog sight. This class had the potential of being a perfect match…a soul mate of sorts….. We’d read works such as Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Hemmingway, Kafka, and O’Connor while discussing threads of sin and redemption. I dreamed of passionate discussions, new insights, and connecting with others through sharing of opinions. Reality hits…….no one is reading the books. When I say no one, I mean maybe five people out of 25 are actually capable of opening a book and reading it. It’s like reading someone’s Match.com profile, thinking you’d have a great connection, and then realizing in the first 5 minutes that you have been duped. Yes, he said he loved art and fine food, but he failed to mention that to him that meant comic books and Bravo Italian Kitchen.

I did a lot of thinking on my drive home….mostly thinking of how this applies to life and to relationships. This class with all its potential is now my most dreaded class. It’s not because I have a bad professor….he actually has great insights and a great knowledge of literature. I dread this class because it seems pointless……pointless because no one really engages. Most people are checked out……or checked in….to facebook….to email…..to their doodles on paper. There is no interaction….we just co-exist in a classroom for 3 hours a week. Hmmmmmm……sounds a lot like my marriage.

When two people don’t engage with each other, it feels lonely…..it feels empty…..it feels like one big, fat rejection. I cannot say how many people I speak to who are lonely in their marriages. Yes, they have tried counseling…..yes, they have tried date nights…..yes, they have tried more sex…..but the problem is that they are not engaging with one another. I remember asking the X early in our separation if he wanted a divorce. The X said “no,” he wasn’t ready for divorce. The problem was, however, that although he was not for divorce, he really wasn’t for marriage either….he was ambivalent....just biding his time. I wonder how many people are out there who are in a relationship who aren’t ready to leave, but are simply co-existing until something happens……either they get too old to care or until the other person gets sick of it and leaves first. **NEWS FLASH** If you do what you have always done, you will get what you have always gotten. If you refuse to engage and invest in the relationship, you will not get returns….things will not get better….things will not change…..ever. If this is you, why not figure out how to truly and heartfully reconnect with your spouse….no strings attached….record of wrongs thrown out the door…..giving life together an honest try. There are a lot of people who say they “try” to make things better with their spouses….but I am sorry, just like the fellow students in my fiction class, showing up does not equal an effort. The fact that your body warms a bed in your home does not equate a try.

It really twerps me off knowing that I busted my fanny to read the material due for class and look around and see that the majority of others could care less. This is not a required class - it’s an elective….so if you aren’t going to do the work, why waste our time?

Some would say they are only hurting themselves and that I should just feel proud that I am doing the work. The problem is that their ambivalence hurts the whole class. We cannot have class discussions of any sort…..they disrupt the class with their own goings on…..or simply try at any point to get completely off topic so they can talk. During counseling, my X didn’t do the assigned work, was not willing to look inside himself and his family life to discover the junk he brought to the table and was, quite frankly, ambivalent about our marriage. His lack of engagement spoke volumes about his true priorities and feelings….and it hurt….a lot. Eventually, I quit counseling….what was the point? There was no mutual accountability….no iron sharpening iron…..no growing together….we did what we always did……and grew……apart.

In Crime and Punishment, Razumikhin describes Raskolnikov, “He’s magnanimous and kind. He doesn’t like expressing his feelings and would rather perpetrate some cruelty than express in words what’s in his heart…sometimes he’s terribly uncommunicative! No time for anybody, everything’s in his way, while actually he’s just lying around, not doing a thing. No jokes, and that’s not because he lacks wit, but as though he had no time for such trifles.” To me, this is the picture of a person withdrawn from a relationship….someone who would rather be petty than explain what is on her heart…someone who clams up, gets frustrated with everyone wasting her time, and losing her sense of humor….someone who is not real anymore….she is just existing.

In relationships, we are mutually accountable - - we are accountable to be real with each other….living and sharing real lives….even if it is messy for a while. We owe it to those around us.

So…..lesson and reminder to myself…..engage…..do not withdraw. When life gets a little (or a lot) messy, resist the urge to withdraw and keep my distance. When life gets busy, engage in the present moment not on my “To Do” list. My self-protective tendency is to hide my heart away…..to not let myself hope for good things when it’s risky…..to lie to myself and say that “I just don’t care.” When I refuse to engage, I am not just hurting myself, I am hurting those people who are investing in a relationship with me.

Birthday Symphony

2010-03-12T11:22:00.000-05:00

Mid-week I found myself meandering though the aisles of the Carmel Public Library looking for that perfect cookbook - - that cookbook containing the recipe for my birthday dinner. I held one book and then another…..and another. Finally, my hands rested on the one - Chez Jacques by Jacques Pepin. I thumbed through the book and found it…the recipe!! Beef Stew in Red Wine Sauce (or boeuf bourguignon). Mmm…. heaven!

Although I can make a beef stew in my sleep, this recipe is somewhat different in its approach and therefore, made the perfect recipe to experiment with on my birthday. Flipping through the book, I found a recipe for a tapenade……NOW we’re talking!! I love nothing more than to eat and drink while I cook. The thought of a pungent tapenade on a crisp warm baguette and a glass of red wine just about put me over the edge!

The beef strew recipe called for 2 pounds of flatiron steak - - a luxury for sure! I typically use a chuck roast or stew meat……but Jacques said flatiron and flatiron it will be. I went to Vine and Table to choose a wine to accompany our dinner. Jacques mentioned for this recipe, one should use the SAME wine to cook with so a good, yet inexpensive, red wine was in order (the recipe called for an entire bottle in the stew). I chose the Rosemount Estate Mudgee Hill of Gold Shiraz for its full body and soft aromatics. Actually, this wine has become a staple at my house lately.

I rushed home to get the house in order before The Man arrived. Walking through the door, my house seemed a little chilly. It had been quite the cold week, so I thought nothing of it. I walked over to the thermostat and turned it up a couple of degrees.

Continue reading at the Vine and Table Wine Blog

GlitterBall!!

2010-02-23T16:07:00.002-05:00

The Man gave me a big basket of goodies for Valentine’s Day. I do so love presents and his basket containing individually wrapped chocolates, bookmarks, tiny books, bubbles, picture frames and a Ray LaMontagne CD filled my love tank to overflowing.

My favorite gift was a simple bouncy ball. As I unwrapped the ball, pink glitter caught my eye (I do so love shiny things). This man knows the way to my heart…..chocolate, music, and all things sparkly!! The Man held the ball and instructed me that this was no ordinary, shiny, glitter-filled bouncy ball with a heart in the center--it had meaning to it. He bounced it against my floor really hard, caught it and held it up for me to see. He said:

See the glitter swirling around the ball? You can’t see the heart can you? This is like my heart. Sometimes things get a little crazy and you can’t see my heart….BUT….if you wait a few minutes, you’ll start to see the outline and then the shape of my heart. Once things settle down, you’ll be able to fully see it again. This is a reminder that when those times come, all you need to do is wait…..just a bit…..and you will see…..my heart.

Isn’t that just how life is??

Sometimes, that is the hardest part for me…..the waiting….the settling….the knowing that if I can just wait a few minutes (or hours or days) more, the raw emotion wears off and the truth of the matter can be seen. I am a woman of action - - I want to fix things - to reveal things - to understand things - - to just flippin’ DO something to make it all better!! Time and time again, I have to learn the lesson of allowing things to “settle.” Sometimes I learn by success…….but sometimes I learn through failure. When I act upon that raw emotion, I am running into a situation blindly - - blinded by my fears….by my emotion. Raw emotion fuels my actions like dried leaves on a campfire…..making a big fiery show….but no real substantive contribution.

My horse trainers, Bill and Linda Black in Spiceland, IN imparted to me a principle of moving cattle ahorseback--let the herd settle and see what happens. When you try to move cows when things are charged with energy, the heard scatters and you lose control of the situation. Conversely, when you let the herd settle for a bit, you can influence the direction in which they move. Simple principle…..but yet so hard to do for an impatient woman who craves instantaneous results.

Every time I pass by my glittery bouncy ball, I throw it on the floor, catch it, and watch the beautiful glitter engulf the inside of the ball…..and then reveal the heart…..my man’s heart…..and I feel loved.

C is for.........crushed!!

2010-02-16T11:19:00.001-05:00

A “C”??????? Really???? Not an “A” not a “B” not even a “B-“ but a flippin “C??” I scan the professor’s comments over and over again. A “C”???????? There were a total of 4 A’s in the class and I think around 8 or so B’s and I got a “C”? I scan over the comments for the 150th time. It’s not my best work, but it certainly wasn’t my worst. The comments, although plentiful, didn’t seem to be “C” comments. What did the people who got A’s and B’s do that I didn’t??

What is a perfectionistic woman to do??

Studying has taken the place of organization. Mail sits in heaps on the counter, dishes are piled up, carpets are unvaccuumed and I don’t even want to address the science projects in the back of the fridge. All in all……..school is totally kicking my butt!!

It seems as if the entire day is mocking my resolve to give myself a break! Even my jeans were way too tight today (after weeks of food revelry of Super Bowl and Valentine’s Day)….it’s Fat Tuesday and I feel just that……fat!!!!

A “C”?????

It’s been a l-o-n-g time since I have subjected myself to the letter grade system of judging the worth of my writing...... I am all for evaluation - - as long as I get an “A.” But a “C”??? It’s history for goodness sake…..not math…..not science!

So what now?? How do I approach this giant, rounded letter?

Cooking is Beautiful.....

2010-02-08T14:29:00.001-05:00

The Man and I have decided to share our adventures in cooking with readers for a food and wine blog at Vine and Table in Carmel. http://www.vineandtable.com/

Click on the link after the intro paragraph to read the post in its entirety.....

Cooking is beautiful - - it’s art using Le Creuset and local produce en lieu of paintbrushes and pastels. The combining of ingredients…the chopping…the preparations are, for me, therapeutic…creative…and even sensual. There is nothing like drinking a glass of fine wine, stirring your creation and dancing to Amos Lee in-between tasks........

http://www.vineandtable.com/blog/post/2010/02/06/Cooking-is-Beautiful.aspx

Enjoy and bon appetit!

Snowplow

2010-02-07T12:02:00.000-05:00

Nothing screams “You are alone!” like a snow covered driveway needing to be shoveled. My driveway is steep…..so steep I have to walk down my lawn sometimes to the mailbox to keep from slipping. My little powder blue Audi A4, Carlito, sits low to the ground and, like me, is better suited for sunny days and the beach than 30 degrees and snow.

The snow plows left giant berms of grey ice and snow in front of my driveway. Snow drifts of alpine proportions covered everything in a blanket of white. You couldn’t even tell where the driveway was. Carlito is a german-engineered sexy love machine….pretty to look at….fun to drive……but no good at plowing through snow and ice up a steep driveway.

Shoveling snow is a new thing for me. When I was married, we had a gravel driveway and a tractor, so there was never a need for a snow shovel. I had no idea about the techniques and tricks to shoveling a drive. I look at my neighbors’ pristine snow free driveways and wonder, “how in the world do they do that?” Secretly, I was hoping that I would wake up to a snow free driveway - much like the story of the shoemaker and the elves….you get up and voila….work is done. But alas, I looked out the window and *sigh* snow still there……Carlito still parked on the street.

I pull on my snow boots, find a hat and a pair of gloves and began to dig out my driveway. The first 5 minutes were okay - - I kept seeing cars pass by…..people waving…..and wondering why they don’t offer to help….after all…..I am a single mom…..a girl outside shoveling a mammoth driveway…..where is chivalry…..servanthood…….sympathy?? Remembering that this is my driveway and my responsibility…..I continued to shovel….scrape….and slide snow from one end to the other. *sigh* “I hate being alone” repeats in my head over and over again…..I want to be a part of a team, not a lone ranger. The sound of the snow shovel scraping concrete is a reminder that I am responsible for myself…..that if I don’t shovel this driveway, it won’t be done…..that when the rubber hits the road….I have got to take care of me.....because no one else will. I wish I could say that this is an empowering feeling, but quite honestly, I just wanted to sit down in the snow in my driveway and pout. But what good is pouting when there is no one to pout to…..just me, the snow shovel and two tons of snow.

Seeing that my pity party is just wasting time, I try to at least get a good workout while scooping, scraping, and shoveling. Abs, hips and thighs all got their workouts and I started to sweat. Forty-five minutes later, half the driveway is done. I can pull Carlito in the driveway and be glad that I finished.

Red Velvet Cupcakes

2010-02-04T11:44:00.000-05:00

Celebrations are important for our soul!! They are times to revel in joy…..to be satisfied….even if just for a moment….to let our guard down…to put down our list of improvements and just…..be!

Last week, a first-time home buyer I was working received notice that their offer was accepted! Hooray!! I love it when the stars align and things happen as they are supposed to. All too often, life gets complicated - very, very complicated.

This may be a shocker, but I have some very perfectionistic tendencies (yes, I know…I hide it well). My issue is not that I expect perfection in others; my issue is that I expect perfection in myself. I mentally berate myself from everything from the size of my thighs, the lateness of my arrivals, my love affair with the snooze button, my spending, my clutter, my disorganized organization….

I step into the shower.....and remember……I haven’t recaulked the tile.

I walk into the closet and see the pile of dry cleaning that I have yet to drop off.

My fall planters are still on my front porch.

My office……well……it’s the epicenter from a paperwork earthquake.

And of course, my personal favorite….”Becky Pruitt….you said in your blog that you resolved to take more bubble baths…..and you haven’t taken a single one…you are supposed to relax…and be more stress free….and you are failing miserably!!!”

Truth is, I would NEVER speak to anyone the way I speak to myself. I would never tolerate anyone to speak to me the way I speak to myself.

I could say this tendency is only within myself, but it affects my relationships with others. Let’s say that The Man implies that I will run late when we go out. I react as if he has been telling me this over and over and over……all day long. By the time that he delivers this benign implication designed to be somewhat humorous, the tape in my head has already played and replayed this message in my head - reminding me…..rebuking me…shaming me. My feelings get hurt and I withdraw….. and he is sitting there wondering…..what the heck just happened?? I was just kidding with her……

Is this just me??? Am I the only one this happens to????

What does this mean for me?? To be more mindful of the thoughts I allow to percolate in my brain. I can leave room for beneficial self-correction, but do not have to subject myself to self-flagellation. I can allow myself to fail sometimes (I have a tendency to refuse to do things that might mean failure) and enjoy the process for what it is. I can celebrate my successes….I should celebrate my success without feeling like I have to minimize them……celebrate them fully….thoroughly.

So…..last week, after I received the news…..I stopped by Holy Cow Cupcakes and bought a red velvet cuppie. I walked through the door of my house…lit the fire and the candles in my living room…..poured a glass of wine….and devoured the cupcake moment by moment….bite by bite….and allowed myself to breathe…and to revel in joy.

Growing Up Southern

2010-01-21T15:03:00.003-05:00

My book club is full of wonderful women….wonderful, strong women who love to discuss and really “dig-in” to books --- finding the lessons……the struggles….and even the beauty that evolves in a character or through circumstances. I love book club! I live for book club!!

This week, we discussed The Help by Kathryn Stockett. The Help tells the stories of fictional African-American women who worked in southern homes in the 60’s. It’s about relationships between women- the good, the bad, and the ugly. One of the characters, Abileen, made it her job…..even her mission…..to influence the children she took care of….to influence them to know they are wonderful and beautiful……to love and not hate…..and to see the commonalities not just the differences. Her goal was to change the destiny of one child and by that child eventually change the world.

The Help is now one of my favorite books. It got me thinkin’--thinkin’ about the women who shaped my life……who invested in me……who collectively showed me the path that I am on now. These women have impacted me…..my children….and eventually even my grandchildren. Because of their investment in my heart, my soul and my outlook on life, they have even impacted YOU…..my readers…my friends….my circle of influence….and that is a beautiful thing!

Today’s blog is an homage to The Women who shaped me, who inspired me, who cared for me, and who challenged me. These women demonstrated to me the grace and the beauty of being a strong, southern woman.

Growing up in central Arkansas in an era of black and white tv’s, window air conditioners, rotary telephones and cars without seat belts, I learned an appreciation of the simple things:

Water hose fights on a hot summer day
Popsicles with ice cream in the middle
Lying in front of a fan reading a book
Singing into that fan-listening to how it changed my voice
Casual conversation on the porch swing
Spitting watermelon seeds at my cousins
Bologna sandwiches with mustard and cheese
Bare feet feeling the cold floor in the refrigeration section at the Piggly Wiggly
Icees at Kmart
Riding in the back of the pickup truck
Lying on a raft in the stillness of the lake
Bluegrass music

My Momma and Daddy had two distinct and very different family dynamics. Momma’s family had the quiet intellectual types…..the ones who could quote poetry at the drop of a hat….the ones who invented new ways to do old things. Religion and Politics were never discussed (although Grandpa was a preacher) and voices always carried a civilized tone.

Daddy’s family was lively and full of debate, discussion, and practical jokes. Religion and politics were the favorite discussion topics at the kitchen table. One had to strategize to get the best seat at the table and the last bowlful of dumplins….AND watch over that bowl like a hawk because if you turned your back, the bowl would disappear into thin air and you would never find it. The house was always loud and full of people. As a matter of fact, that kitchen would get so loud that we kids had to turn the tv all the way up to hear it......that is....until the inevitable pause in the conversation exposed the loud tv and we would hear...."You kids turn that tv down!"

Both families were full of strong, beautiful, intriguing women of all types. These women taught me:

That the worst thing you could ever do was be ugly--ugly on the inside--and say ugly things. The words, “That was ugly” brought a sense of shame in my heart and made me remember to be considerate of others……always.

Being strong doesn’t mean that you can’t be soft as well. Being strong isn’t about being hard……it’s about being resilient…like Scarlet O’Hara.

My opinions matter……..but giving my opinion should never be at the expense of someone else’s feelings…..it’s all about the delivery.

Family is very, very, very important. If someone is family, they are a part of your life….period. It doesn’t mean we always like them…….but we always cheer for them to do well. It’s important to spend time with your family and get to know them as people.

You can get away with murder with a smile and a coy look.

That looking nice isn’t about false appearances, it’s about self-respect.

It is important to tell those around you that you love them….and tell them often.

Laughter is a wonderful binding agent.

Respect is given not earned….and where respect is given, respect is gotten. When disrespect is given, disrespect is gotten.

These women, the aunts, cousins, grandmothers, family friends, and, of course, my mother embodied such beauty, such knowledge, such southern wonderfulness…… They made me who I am today…..and I am eternally grateful.

First Days of School

2010-01-13T22:38:00.002-05:00

Here I sit on a caramel-colored couch in the student center at IUPUI…..heart still aflutter from my Western Civilization Class……I feel like I have had coffee with someone whom I had a great connection with….giddy….excited. History and I are old friends….I adore history! I realize that Western Civ may not make the average girls heart go pitty-pat…but in many ways, I am quite the book geek…..and my excitement can hardly be contained.

Yesterday was my first day of class. Running late, I searched high and low for parking only park illegally and pray for a bit of grace so my car wouldn’t be towed and ran to my French 1 class. Although I have been to France several times, French class is very intimidating to me. One can’t “fake” a new language - it is either right or it’s not.

Next up is a bit more relaxing to me…..Intro to Fiction - - reading books like Crime and Punishment and discussing themes of sin and redemption in fiction. (again….book geek)….but I love nothing more than getting into the heads of authors….digging in and discovering what they have to say.

This morning, I jumped out of bed when the alarm sounded……ready to greet the day….and once again……end up late. Excited to only be 15 minutes late (as opposed to 25 minutes late the day before with the parking debacle), I walked into the classroom to come face to face with a fire and brimstone History Prof….. I tried to quietly find a seat, but the room was full. The closest available seat required walking right in front of the professor and creating a bit of a rukus. Luckily a few people walked in the door after me (phew). The professor announced that those who are chronically late will fail his class. At once, I knew I liked this man - - I felt as if I were in a class at Oxford University with C.S. Lewis as a professor or even better, Tolkein. History Prof spoke passionately about the beauty and provocative nature of history….of how it is the story of our ancestors and how irresponsible people have turned it into dull and boring drivel. My eyes tear up and excitement wells in my chest. This is going to be a fun semester.

My reading list is long and I am immediately glad I stayed at 12 hours and not the 15 hours I was considering. As I searched for my books at the bookstore, I selected a used edition of poetry from Wordsworth. Noticing the familiar yellow markings and pen notations, I immediately chose another and then another and then another used edition. I couldn’t bear to have the pages pre-read…..pre-marked. Reading a pre-marked book to me is like going on a date with someone after you talk to his ex-girlfriend…….in a pre-marked book, someone has already noted the flaws, the meanings, the discoveries. I checked the prices-- the difference was only a few dollars. I grabbed an armful of new books and joined the endless line of students purchasing books.

Standing in line, feeling like a pack mule, my mind wandered to my first college experience at 18. Looking at the young jeans clad students, I wondered if they were experiencing the same joy as me….if they were excited to learn or simply getting through college so they can get a job. Suddenly, I felt sad for them.

Theodore Roethke described it well in his poem entitled Dolor

I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,
Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper weight,
All the misery of manilla folders and mucilage,
Desolation in immaculate public places,
Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,
The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,
Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,
Endless duplicaton of lives and objects.
And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,
Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,
Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,
Dropping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,
Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate grey standard faces.

Life is like that - - we can simply get through each day just to get by….get to the next day, next holiday, next vacation, next….whatever - OR - LIGHTBULB - we can discover the beauty in the day……search out the meaning…seek the joy. We can fully experience our days or just live through rote mechanizations.
As for me…… I don’t mind being a history geek…..a bookish kind of gal…..the dreamer who loves her world in Technicolor. There was a time where I squelched that part of me….that girl was lost…..or more appropriately, hidden away….locked in a prison colored in shades of gray. I was afraid of that “fabulous” part of me……afraid that if I was really seen, I would be judged…..and come up lacking.

I celebrate the day when I welcomed her back - - tentative at first……but then running to her in fields of flowers…….jumping into her arms…..and kissing the tears off her cheeks…..locking arm in arm…and putting our bejeweled sandaled feet on the road of our new journey.

Here we are…..sitting in class…..learning…. exploring….. discovering. For me, it’s not about the degree, it’s about being the best “me” that I can possibly be.

Woot!

If It Makes You Happy

2010-01-11T20:14:00.001-05:00

Happiness……I want it for myself…..I generally wish it for others. The sticky part comes when there is an X involved…..and then “happy” becomes a relative term…. A state of mind dependent upon someone else…

Do I want the X to be happy…..of course…..absolutely…..positively….just….well…. I don’t want him to be happy-ier than I am…. As long as I am in a good relationship, financially secure…..hangin with my friends…. he can reach for the stars…succeed.. find love… enjoy life. If somehow, I am less happy, I seem more inclined to be judgmental….to stir the pot a bit…to remember what a jerk he was.

I don’t think this is just Diva-madness….I do think these feelings “happen” to other women I know (do men do this?? Not sure)…. Case in point:

A girlfriend of mine was recently in a funk….. Her X (who has been an X for a very, very, very, long time) has started seeing someone. Now my girlfriend….(let’s call her Charlie after the fabulous cheap 70’s perfume….which doesn’t say anything about her… I just love the commercials…boy, I am in so much trouble…) has long been over her X. Charlie has been happily married for a number of years and really bears no ill will towards said X. However, Charlie just discovered that the X is dating--benign information--that is, until she found out the girlfriend is younger and is actually quite stunning. Emergency girl time was scheduled…Martini’s flowed….. bags of chocolate were opened…..

Charlie is a smart cookie --- she does want her X to be happy….and even have a wonderful and attractive girlfriend - - just not as wonderful and not as attractive as she is. After much conversation, we concluded that we can take the high road….and be happy for our X’s…that is…..as long as the new girlfriends are dumb as a box of rocks, at least a jean size bigger, and have a few cosmetic flaws here and there. Of course, there ARE areas that the new girlfriend is “allowed” to be better than we are - - better at finding our X’s flaws, better at getting on his nerves, more skilled in the areas of nagging, complaining, whining, being late, talking with their mouths full… you get the picture. Somehow, as “evolved” as we may be as X-Wives, we still want the X’s to wistfully think of us as the one that got away -- the best thing that ever happened to them - - and remember how much they screwed it all up (that’s the important part!). It’s not that we want them to come back - - (Lord help us - NO) - - but the payoff for us is that they see their life as a little less brighter because we are not there (okay - a LOT less brighter).

Reality check - - the X will be happy….very, very happy. He will probably date a model who is a good cook, who never raises her voice and cleans the house in a regular basis. Our children will love her…..adore her even….. and she will look up at him in adoration with her big baby blue eyes…and we will want to puke.

I guess the key is to prepare myself for the inevitability…..be happy in my own life and resist the urge to compare. After all, the biggest lesson I learned in my divorce was that I am responsible for my own happiness. It is not contingent on him any longer.

However, I also need to know there are times when I will feel as if I was kicked in the gut…that he found someone better than me…..and it will feel like everything he said during the divorce was right…..that he can do much, much better. Those are the times best left to the experts - - those experts of encouragement and sympathy - - my girlfriends and their endless supplies of chocolate, wine, tears, joy…..and the ability to point out that, yes, her hips ARE bigger!

The Argument Hangover

2010-01-07T12:45:00.001-05:00

I wake up slowly…….my head hurts…I ask my self, “what did I just do??” and groan while throwing the covers up over my head. “What did I say??” “What must he think of me??” Regret sets in…….lots and lots of regret. I check my text messages on my phone and review my words……those angry hurtful words…. What now?? I need caffeine….. and maybe even a trip to Tahiti.

My phone lights up……a text message from The Man with lots of x’s and o’s. He is so good to me….. but then again….he said hurtful things too….. how do I respond?? Do I wait……make him sweat it out….that way I can be a little less sorry…..because he will be more sorry.... I send a couple of x’s and o’s his way (but a few less than his)…. and try to find a way to get back to square one.

We talk our argument through…..make up…hug…and remind each other how much we care. Why is it then, while sitting on the couch next to him that I still feel ucky…..and empty? Things feel unresolved….weird…..awkward… Is it a red flag? Does it mean we aren’t meant for each other?? I get all introspective and examine the feelings in the depth of my heart. No - - it’s just the Argument Hangover.

Hangover?? From an argument?? Really?? Of course. Over the last few weeks, I have given much thought to those days following our heated arguments (yes, I know - it’s a shocker that The Man and I fight…..but you get two passionate and opinionated people in the same room….and sometimes….there are fireworks). There seems to consistently be a period of time after such debates that is just downright uncomfortable. I have labeled these times the Argument Hangover.

Sometimes I feel a fight coming on - - it’s somehow, “in the air.” We are both a little edgy….a baby bit defensive…..the wind changes a bit and I know that “it’s on!” Adrenaline flows through my veins quicker than a shot of moonshine…..my inhibitions are lowered…..as I suddenly feel the need to slam a door……to bang around pots and pans….to sigh and huff around. Words flow too freely….stories get exaggerated….I start forgetting what I just said and begin to incessantly repeat myself. Am I drunk?? No…… at least not on alcohol…..but drunk on my emotions….my feelings….my need to be “right.” And then……afterwards…..regret sets in. Thoughts of, “I know better…” and “I’m too old for this…” permeate my brain…… my head hurts from all the tears I cried and I’m ready to jump on Orbitz and book my one way ticket to Mexico.

I put my head on The Man’s shoulder and he asks me if there is anything I still want to talk about. I shake my head and sigh…..”no, not really.” He asks, “is it just the argument hangover?” I nod my head…..he puts his arms around me…kisses my cheek and we snuggle on the couch and let the ickiness pass…..and I know that eventually, everything will be okay.

Resolved...the Sequel

2010-01-04T13:13:00.005-05:00

January 4th …..is it really already January 4th?? 2010 is here already?? But wait….I wasn’t ready!!! I am not ready to evaluate 2009….not ready to regain my focus…I just want to stay underneath my covers for another week…to hibernate….and extend my all too short vacation.

Alas, time moves on whether I want it to or not and according to my tradition, I must evaluate the past year and determine my direction in the year to come *sigh*

Actually, 2009 was a conundrum. conundrum n. A riddle in which a fanciful question is answered by a pun. A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma…. 2009 was simultaneously the best year and the worst year. It brought me gigantic problems and unexpected solutions (or more accurately the “non-solution” solution - which is infinitely more difficult as I am a master “star-aligner”)… 2009 offered tears and joy…. Discovery and “same old same old.” My new years resolutions were mostly unmet but my mission was accomplished…. When I reviewed the first blog of 2009, there are many unchecked items….. but below was my mission statement for 09.. I think I came pretty doggone close….

2009 is the year for:
-girlfriends
-creativity
-taking a risk
-being brave

This is my mission statement for the year: Becky Pruitt strives to be a relational yet organized professional who is connected in her community and seeks to be content and happy in her life. By taking risks and being creative she will broaden her life experiences. Becky is committed to deepening her relationships with her girlfriends through shared experiences and lots of wine and chocolate.

2009 brought:

An unexpected relationship with a man who sees my heart and loves me for who I am…

Painful and difficult family circumstances that tested my resolve….

Deepening relationships with my friends…knowing that I can be real and honest…

New friends…..who have become near and dear to my heart….

Streamlining…..my activities…my networking….my life

Cooking meals at home again…..YAY!!!!

My first “big girl” party in my home - 30+ people for dinner

Marrying off my daughter in a beautiful ceremony

An empty house

Lessons of communication within a relationship

A renewed dedication to finish my college degree

So….after consuming copious amounts of Blackeyed Peas and Red Beans and Rice for prosperity sake.....evaluating the previous year.....I am ready to announce....drum roll please ……My resolutions ffor 2010 are:

RESOLVED……..I will take more bubble baths-at least 2 per month
RESOLVED……..I will not use my credit cards
RESOLVED......I will blog every single week
RESOLVED……..I will promote my blog better
RESOLVED……..I will exercise at least 3 times each week
RESOLVED……..I will streamline my home-including filing and purging unwanted items
RESOLVED......I will travel to Spain in 2010
RESOLVED……By the end of the year, I will write a book

Happy New Year!!!

Polynomial Expressions

2009-12-16T14:45:00.001-05:00

As a part of living my Best Life, I have decided to return to school and finish the degree I put off for so long. When I got married and had children, that “piece of paper” saying I was a contributing, intelligent member of society lost its luster….became less important. Now that I am on my own, the lack of intellectual “pedigree” is a Vegas-sized flashing light beckoning me to come back….come back…

As if my life wasn’t complicated enough……

But….it’s for me….and I have decided to jump back into the world of academia…..at 40+ years old… How bad can it be??

Registering for classes was somewhat simple. Gone are the endless lines at the registrar’s office…everything is now online. Of course, my transfer credits are not at the number I would like for them to be (who knew that courses like English Composition and Philosophy had expiration dates…) but I figure I will get that all sorted out after I get my feet a little wet.

First on the agenda is taking a math placement test so I can get a math class out of the way. Now mind you, math is not my strong suit…..as a matter of fact…..the thought of doing math problems makes me break out in hives, but the test must be done and I am determined not to take remedial math.

I enlisted the help of my favorite person….my man….The Man. In my book, having a math degree is one degree shy of being a super hero. Bursting into my living room, cape flying….The Man declared, “Madam….I’ll save you!!!!” The Man began explaining the complexities of Polynumeric-binomial-triconfuso expressions…. I cocked my head to the side….squinted….sipped my glass of wine….and paused…. “You have no idea what I just said, do you?” the Man patiently declared….. I retorted, “If I did, I would already have a math degree…” The Man spent the next hour and a half patiently explaining….re-explaining…and listening to my endless questions of “why are they called irrational?” .. "why is f(x) really “Y”….why don’t they just call it “Y"?” He is a saint…it was past midnight already…I have put in a nomination for canonization with the Pope…..

Why are we frantically studying math at that hour??

Well……ahem….on a whim, I decided that the time to take the test was now and scheduled the seemingly benign math placement test….tomorrow. After all, I am a good shopper (and hence good at shopping math) and the reason I would TAKE algebra was to learn algebra….so how hard could the test be? After scheduling the test, I researched what I needed to know….. Horror of horrors……I was clueless!! Help was needed!! I frantically wrote the following Rescue Me! email to The Man.

Subject: OMG!! I think I need a wee bit of help!!!!!!!

Did a bit of prelim looking at skills needed to “pass” the placement test (and not have to take a stupid remedial class)…..

TO BE PLACED INTO: Math 104, 108, 118, 150, 170

• Add, subtract, multiply and divide whole numbers and decimals. Check
• Solve simple word problems involving the above operations and numbers. Check
• Make comparisons and perform calculations with fractions, decimals, and percents. Check
• Solve multiple-step word problems involving fractions, decimals, ratio, percents, average, and proportional reasoning. Check-ish
• Solve word problems involving perimeter and area. Check – I think – Perimeter is simple adding and area is height*width – correct?
• Find square roots. Um………I can define it……but I don’t remember how to find it…..
• Solve simple equations using a variable. Check
• Understand order relationships between signed numbers. What in the hell is a signed number??? Are they in counseling??
• Perform simple operations with negative and positive integers. Those are negative and positive numbers, correct??
• Know and understand the order of operations. Um…..shop first….drink second?? Maybe – Parenthesis first….then…???
• Perform simple operations with radicals. Like Osama Ben Laden?? Help!!!!!
• Factor polynomials and quadratic expressions. Factor?? Quadratic Expressions?? Like Yebese?? (Serbian swear word) Help!!!
• Solve simple quadratic equations by factoring. I am so sunk!!!
• Perform simple operations with polynomials. Like taking out a spleen?? What is a Polynomial? Are they friendly?
• Solve simple rational equations. Obviously, I do not hang out with rationals….only irrationals….
• Simplify and evaluate algebraic expressions. :) =good :( =Sad ;)=Sassy
• Graph linear equations. Um…..Help!!!!
• Solve word problems involving algebraic principles. I think I can do this…..

TO BE PLACED INTO: Math 105, 107, 119

• All of the above plus
• Solve systems of linear equations (equalities) with two variables by graphing and/or algebraic manipulation. Manipulation – aaaahhh something I can finally understand!!!!
• Manipulate factors to simplify complex fractions. Um….is this to actually GET a math degree???
• Work with algebraic expressions involving real number exponents. I know that I *should* know what an exponent is….
• Solve absolute value equations. I am absolutely going to have to take remedial math!
• Graph simple parabolas. Sounds like something you would need hand sanitizer for….
• Have a basic understanding of function notation, such as determining the value of a function for a specific number in the domain. What??
• Show a limited understanding of the concept of function on a more sophisticated level, such as determining the value of the composition of two functions. Conjunction junction….what’s that function…..Ahem....English Major!!!
• Have a rudimentary understanding of coordinate geometry. Um – I can find Mexico…..
• Have a rudimentary understanding of exponential functions and logarithmic functions. I hate math!!!!!

Well….Here’s to growth…..and to exploring things unknown…things undiscovered!! And kudos to the people in my life who encourage me….help me….and even, from time to time rush in….cape flying in the wind…and rescue me from the scary things in life (even if they are just a math problem).

Match Game

2009-12-15T11:15:00.000-05:00

It took me almost two weeks on Match to finally decide to come out of my shell...my nice, comfy, protective shell…..and actually meet a Match “prospect” in person. This process is much like the game we play as kids…..you know, the one where you put all the cards face down on the floor and turn over two at a time to find a match. It’s time consuming….it’s frustrating…..but when you find something that looks like a match, you go for coffee. I should have bought shares in Starbucks, Inc.!!!!

Date Number 1

I was a bit nervous….heck I was a LOT nervous!!! The Rebound Guy was the first guy I dated after the divorce…..AND…..before him, I had only gone out on two first dates. I strategized with my girlfriends (who were so excited that I expected to see them incognito at strategic places in Starbucks). Googling first date “rules” seemed to help a bit…what to do if I arrived first (wait to order a drink..) (does Starbucks add liquid courage to their coffee???)….. how long to stay..(be aware of the time--don’t over-linger) what to wear…(nice sweater and a dark pair of jeans…scarf)… whew!!!

DateMan 1 was there waiting for me when I walked in. A moment of fear gripped me! What now?? How do I greet someone I have never met…never talked to on the phone …who is not a business contact but a “date” of sorts?? Pulling myself together, I walked up to him and decided to “wing it.” He smiled and mentioned something about this moment always being awkward gave me a hug and bought me a Grande Earl Grey Tea.

We sat down in front of the fire and the conversation flowed easily. After an hour or so, it was time to leave. He walked me to my car and said what a great time he had. He asked me if we could go on an “official” date and I said “Yes!” Later that afternoon, he texted me a couple of times……the next day he texted me…..and then…….then…. then…. nothing! What the heck?? Okay….maybe he read the “Rules” and was waiting for the opportune moment…..waiting that three day grace period so he didn’t seem too interested…..so….I waited….and waited…and waited…..calling my girlfriends…my guyfriends….the telephone operator….the founder of Match.com….the mailman…. wondering what is the procedure from here on out??

Finally after 5 days, I decided that any guy who was EVER going to date me might as well get used to me being…well…me. He might as well get used to the impulsive….complicated …and sometimes emotional being that I am…..so I broke every dating rule on the planet and emailed him with the following…..

     Dear DateMan1:

     I had a wonderful time on our date and feel like we had great conversation and a good connection. As you know, my dating experience has been pretty limited and the majority of experience I had was from the 80’s….. so….. in that spirit….. are you interested?? Check yes or no. If yes, then some contact would be helpful…. If no, I had a delightful time and wish you well on your search. Becky

DateMan1 responded back with the following:

     Dear Becky:

     One of the hardest things to do in dating is choosing. You never know if the one you didn’t choose would end up being the right for you… We had a great connection and I enjoyed our time together. However, I have found a girl that I want to get to know better and I am not the type of guy who can date multiple girls at one time. If things don’t work out, maybe we can get together again… DateMan1

Back to the drawing board!!! Frustration sets in….. on to Date 2…3…4…5..6…

Interesting side note - - I saw DateMan1 on a date this fall. He was waiting for his date to show and hitting on a girl in my group before the date’s arrival…. He mentioned that he really wasn’t “into” the girl he was waiting on…. But of course, after her arrival he was staring into his date’s eyes and sharing her food…. Suddenly, a year later sitting next to my wonderful, caring man, I felt lucky….so very, very, very lucky!!!

Adventures on Match.com

2009-12-11T10:23:00.001-05:00

Last year, after the Rebound Guy and I called it quits, my girlfriends and I had dinner at this cute, quaint Italian restaurant in Broad Ripple. After we had all deconstructed every relationship under the sun, the girls suggested I create a profile on an online dating site….namely Match.com. Appalled, I announced….”I do not have trouble meeting men…” to which they responded…. “WHO?? Who have you met that is dateable??”

Still….I was not convinced…..not sure that an online dating site was for me….it just seemed so….so….mercenary!! The girls assured me that it wasn’t so….that online dating could be a positive thing…after all, one of the girls actually married her “Match.” Thanking them for their concern, I said I would look into it…..knowing that there was no way in Hades that I would ever do it……

After a lonely night on the couch with my other girls….a box of Tagalongs and a bottle of red wine…….I decided to stick my toe in the water and see what happens. I created a profile….not one of “come hither” or “looking for a life mate..” but one that was a little sassy….a little “I dare you to date me!” The photo I put up was not exactly the most flattering. It was of me waiting at the airport after a looooong flight from Paris….waiting….waiting….waiting…. (hmmm….maybe there is a little symbolism there)….
Looking back, I think I was more curious than anything of just what would happen….

Day 1
6am……I wake up….check my email….and holy holy cow!!! Emails--lots and lots of emails!!! This was completely unexpected…..and a little strange….I had created my profile at 11pm….do these people work??

5pm…checked again…more emails….great!! Not lonely anymore!! I have people to email with…..to talk to…..to be e-flirty with!! Life is good!! I have fan mail!! Yay!

Day 2

Return emails……check out my “winks” and wonder why some people wink and some people email….is there a difference?? Is one method better than the other?? I wish I had a Match.com guidebook as I am suddenly clueless as to the “rules” of the game.

Day 3

What??? They want my phone number??? Really??? Why?? I am not sure I’m comfortable with strangers being able to call and text at any time…. My phone is the most important part of my being…..it is with me 24/7/365…. No way Jose!!

Day 4

Getting some hate mail…..from those whom I initially responded to (I always thought anyone who takes time to email me should get some sort of response…but the emails grew insistent and a little bit cr-azy and I stopped responding). Obviously on Match…. Response=Interest…. Holy cow!! This is sooo complicated!! I was just being nice….and encouraging…not playing games.

Day 5

Meet?? I am not ready to meet anyone…. I want to email them a bit first to see if we click. Called my guyfriend wondering what the heck is up with this meet thing…. why are they so insistent?? They don't even know me. He informed me that, “Becky…..it’s called Match.com because they want to meet somebody….it’s not called write.com or friends.com.” Somehow, I thought the time frame would move a bit....well....a bit slower. Obviously…..I am much too guarded for this type of process….. Meeting a stranger I have emailed once or twice and who already wants to date me seems a bit……well….odd.

Day 6

Emails……avoiding phone conversations……avoiding meeting in person….. but...I like fan mail....it feels good to my wounded little heart... Realized I can see who has checked out MY profile….. reconciling the list of viewers with the list of winks and emails…… asking myself….. why didn’t this one wink….or email……why didn’t that one like me?? Suddenly, I felt under a microscope……and finding myself irritated at people who judge the worthiness of a person based on a few arbitrary parameters (this coming from the woman who is looking for a man at least one inch taller than her X….)…..

Day 7

Sigh…..this is so very time consuming…..

Day 8

Friday night…..why are these people on Match?? Why aren’t they out meeting people?? Oh….wait…..why am I on Match and not out?? Added some better pictures… Thinking I should actually meet someone in person and resolving to do so…

Day 9

Fan Mail!!! Yippee!! I have found the one….well….the one I have decided to meet in person….for coffee….I have had hundreds of one-on-one networking meetings…so this should be no different……. Famous last words!!!

******To Be Continued*******

Colors and Hues

2009-12-08T11:48:00.002-05:00

In my year of blogging, I’ve spent a lot of time writing about my journey as a divorced woman - - a journey of discovery….in discovering who I am and who I want to be. My mission is to be as transparent as I can appropriately be. Recently, I've discovered that there is one place where I have not been so transparent - - both in my blog and in my life. I have hidden a painful place so deep inside me that it doesn’t see the light of day. These forgotten fears/emotions/hurts are like weeds…..waiting dormant until the opportune moment (or in my case, typically the most inopportune moments).

Why bring up something that is past history?? Why dredge up old feelings?? Is it appropriate?? Is it helpful?? Will I look like a victim?? Well…..it’s time. As the old Randy Travis song says…..I’m digging up bones…..exhuming things that are better left alone. It’s time to let those things see the light of day. Left in the dark, they subtly color my feelings…..cast a hue on circumstances…distorting them ever so slightly….and then….my coping mechanisms kick in and I want to run and hide…..walk out….leave the room…..end a relationship……or better yet….hide in my anger….or in my harsh words.

My ex-husband’s affair with a close girlfriend shattered my world….it pierced the illusion I had that our marriage was good and was strong - an illusion I completely bought into. People would ask me, “How could you not know??” or simply state, “you must have known on some level.” Those words pierced my heart even deeper…..how could I have not known?? I am pretty perceptive……how did I not pick up on it?? How did I not see it?

In truth, the x and my friend were very good in their deception - - they lied, they manipulated, and they were careful….very careful. I felt like such a fool! I lost trust in my X, I lost trust in my friends, and most devastatingly, I lost trust in myself….in my gut.

Their affair caused me to feel:

Less of a woman - - I was not enough for him….emotionally….physically. My friend seemed to be all I wasn’t - creative….beautiful….tall…..model thin body… with an air of “please rescue me..” The hardest part was his explanation...... “Becky, it wasn’t about the sex…..I just liked her better….she is my best friend.” Ouch!! The sex I could attribute to a midlife crisis (a Porsche would have been better)…..but the emotional connection screamed simultaneously….. “You aren’t enough” and “Becky, you are just too much!!”

Alone - my friends had to pick sides as we were all “one big happy family” and now they had four very unhappy people in a big mess. In one fell-swoop I lost my husband, my girlfriends, my position as a pastor’s wife, my support group…. People would call……. but sometimes I wondered if it was more for the latest gossip than to actually support me.

Angry - so.. so very angry - angry at God for allowing this to happen….angry at myself for allowing it to happen…..angry at my life…..angry at my house out in the country isolating me……just freaking angry! I wanted to build a big bonfire and burn every memory we had together!! Instead, I took apart my beautiful king sized four-poster Rice Bed,…put it in the basement…..threw away my sheets, pillowcases, and comforter…. and slept on the floor.

Afraid - what would happen next?? Would anyone want me again?? I felt like a chipped and broken tea pot on the clearance aisle at Home Goods….unwanted…..headed to the Island of Misfit Toys….lost in oblivion…… I was ashamed....ashamed of telling people that my husband had an affair.....ashamed of what it seemed to say about me as a woman...as a wife. Like Hester Pryne....I felt like I had a big A on my chest for all to see and for all to judge...and I didn't even commit the offense..

How would I support myself?? Where would I go?? What would I do?? My fear paralyzed me for a good year….I couldn’t function…I couldn’t think….all I could do was sit on the floor and cry. Nights were scary. I was used to having a man in the house. Living on a 650 acre farm….every noise….every creak terrified me….screamed to me that I had no one to protect me.

Lost…..so….so…so utterly lost…..and hopeless….feeling unattractive ….unloved. My ex was more worried about the “other woman” and what she was going through than with taking care of his wife whom he had promised to love and to cherish….. I had spent 16 years with him….does that not count for something?? Everything I had worked for…sacrificed for… my carefully built home was damaged. I had made the decision to stay home with my family for 11 years….to take care of them… to love them. Everything I knew was about being a wife and a mom and about running our small businesses…..Now what??

After about a year of being a victim….feeling powerless…..I decided to get up….put on my big girl boots….be strong…..and create my life the way I want it. I pushed all thoughts and fears into the recesses of my soul...never to see the light of day again. The problem is….. the issue can be…. that I never…ever want to go back there again! I don’t want to be in a position where I don’t know….can’t see….or just am not aware that the love is gone. I am like a sentry - on guard - searching out possible threats….creating scenarios in my head of danger…..and allowing beautiful things to be colored with shades of fear.

Those colors and hues affect my perception....my relationships....even the relationship I have with my children - - I am terrified that they will find me lacking just as my X did - - that their lives are forever changed. I know I am not the mom that I used to be...with family dinners...games...vacations...outings....and quite honestly, it makes me defensive....very, very defensive.

In 30 days, it will be 5 years since the discovery of my X’s affair and it is finally time to face the scary things…. to know them… to allow the hurt to come to light…..to be open and not hidden….and be a beautiful part of who I have become…not to wallow and get stuck…. but to acknowledge where I have come from and what I have gone through….. acknowledge it…. respect it…. And not be afraid of it.

So this is the year of Reclaiming. Reclaiming my hope.....reclaiming my life.... Restoring the things that were lost...that seemed forever gone. Last year was about finding out who I want to be - - this year is about remembering who I was.....and more importantly....remembering the beauty and not just the pain.

Wallowing in Happiness

2009-11-19T10:09:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, I just wallow……I have a bad day….a bad week….a bad year…. I open a bottle of wine……pour a pot of earl grey tea……devour a box of tagalongs….and cry on the shoulders of my girlfriends…..and they understand me…..love me…and support me. But sometimes I wonder……am I allowed to wallow in happiness?? Better yet….do I allow myself to wallow in happiness.

T.S. Eliot wrote in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, “I have measured my life with coffee spoons.” Do I do that with happiness?? Do I measure it out with a teaspoon?? Not too much…..just a small bit will do…..after all, I don’t want to be obnoxious….to brag….to set myself up for a fall.

Why is it that when I am happy, I downplay it all? Why do I hesitate to share it to the full extent? Will others accept my joy as much as they accept my pain? If I share my excitement for the future……will I look like a fool if it doesn’t work out??

I have found myself mulling over this a lot lately. I have noticed that I measure out my happiness….my success…..my joy. I am quick to point out my failings. When someone walks into my house, I make sure to point out how messy it is…..when someone compliments how I look, I am quick to acknowledge those few pounds I’ve gained. It’s not that I can’t accept a compliment with a simple, “thank you.” Oh, I can do that…but in my head, I tick off the things they didn’t notice….or that they just didn’t share.

So, I think I am going to practice the art of happiness……or better yet….the art of sharing my happiness. Truth is…..at this point in my life, I am happy…I have such hope for the future. My hope is not about a certain relationship (although that is going very, very well)….my hope is about where I am going….what I am planning….. For the first time in my life, I get to plan the life I have always wanted and it is exciting. At 40+ years old, I no longer care about the shoulds and want to focus on the coulds.

So for today…..instead of wallowing in the muck and the mire of a crazy life…..I choose to roll down hills of flowers…to lie on the warm earth…..watch the clouds and dream of possibilities…..and best of all, learn to share….to share my success….to share my joy…and to share my hope of good things to come!

THe Rebound Guy

2009-11-14T13:35:00.001-05:00

Last week I had a two hour lunch with a girlfriend - - oh how I LOVE two hour lunches….especially those that include a nice bottle of wine!! These girlfriend lunches are times to share our hearts….our experiences…our hopes for the future.

On this lunching occasion, the conversation gravitated towards relationships (I know…shocker….girls…lunch…wine….talk of boys)….specifically of rebound relationships.

The rebound relationship is just that…..a rebound relationship….that relationship you have when you are not quite ready and quite healthy enough to have a long-term relationship. It is not necessarily a negative experience…..and sometimes it is even important.

Rebound relationships can tell us that we are likeable just as we are….that we are important….good enough to care about….beautiful….wonderful. Some would say that we should find these things on our own without involving another person. While that may be true….it may not be reality.

My rebound relationship was somewhat unexpected. I can remember countless conversations with my girlfriends about whether or not we were actually “dating” or just friends. I had not planned on being in a relationship - - I had been married for a bazillion years and the prospect of dating scared the bejeezus out of me. Our relationship taught me a lot - - mostly that I could communicate with a member of the male species without breaking dishes…..hanging up the phone….or slamming doors. The relationship taught me that I could breathe….if only for a moment….and enjoy life. It taught me that I could be liked for myself and not have to apologize for who I am.

In the end, the relationship was not to be long term……our lives were going in two different directions. Although we were compatible and had lots of fun, our differing expectations of life eventually drove us apart.

I can remember being so brokenhearted….so distraught….so determined that this relationship could work. Stepping back, I see my determination was more about being able to hold ANY relationship together than holding THIS relationship together. See….I was desperate to show to myself (and to my ex, if I am completely honest) that I am capable of having a healthy, happy relationship. That was of the utmost importance to me. I was determined this was not going to be the cliché rebound relationship……. In the end, if my rebound guy wouldn’t have been firm with the terms of our break-up, I would have walked on nails….swallowed my pride….tried to become someone I am not….simply because I wanted to stay together. Holy Cow….that was just like being married to my X…..

It was so difficult…..I thought I was going to be alone forever. My girlfriends consoled me….my guy friends took me out…they would tell me things about myself that I could not see….I became even more determined that I was not dating material…..that I had no interest in a dating relationship (see last year’s posts)…… I had to take some time to figure out what I wanted in life….to see who I am….to learn to make myself happy (and quite honestly, learn what makes me happy).

So as the holidays are approaching, I see many relationships turning to survival mode - - oh my goodness….I have been there…..”just give it until after the holidays….” “but we have plans for Thanksgiving at my parents so we can’t break up now…” “but I will never find someone who will do those things for me….” “but,,,,He might propose…” and on and on and on and on. Girlfriend (and guyfriend) don’t loose sight of yourself……don’t loose sight of the fact that some relationships are simply ones of transition. If you find yourself holding on to something that just isn’t working……let go. Loosen your grip on the relationship…..allow it to float away….see what it is that your need in a relationship AND what you bring to a relationship. Don’t hold on to something because of fear…..as fear is the opposite of love.

It’s a scary thing……realizing that you are in a rebound relationship…..but don’t let your pride…or your fear keep you from happiness…..

Galoshes

2009-10-27T13:35:00.003-04:00

When life rains down on you, put on your galoshes and dance in the rain.

When I was a little girl, I loved to wear my galoshes. I had to walk to school every day…..and I loved the rainy days….those days meant for my clear, domed umbrella and….of course, my galoshes. No puddle was unexplored…unsplashed….no curbside river was left untouched. In my galoshes I was invincible…..safe…..unfettered by the rain.

Fast forward three and a half decades…….I am standing in the home of the X….watching my bride-to-be daughter give direction to those of us setting up for the wedding….she is so beautiful…and excited.

The wedding-weekend weather seemed a bit sketchy…..cold…and rainy….so I packed my cute black galoshes with bright red cherries just in case the reception tent became a muddy mess (yes, I was a girl scout….always prepared). So……on Friday, there I was standing in the home of the X….or more appropriately CLEANING the home of the X….the home where I raised my children…my dogs….my horses….my cows…it seemed that my X was neither a boy scout nor a girl scout as he certainly was not prepared for 160 people to descend upon his home in 24 hours…….but *ahem* that’s why he is the X. But in the end, I love my daughter more than I want to see my X squirm so I cleaned…and cleaned and cleaned… (I am expecting a nomination for sainthood from the Pope any day now)….. and not surprisingly, without an ounce of gratitude or even a simple thank you from the X…..

The stress level begins to mount……

Having a house full of people was a great distraction to me that weekend…..I got to cook….to entertain….to open wine bottles I’d been saving (gotta love that Rockpile Zin…..yum!)…. It also gave me an excuse to show up for the wedding just in time to help the daughter into her wedding dress……she was absolutely stunning! The most beautiful bride I have EVER seen!!!

The X’s house is full of people…..it’s cold outside…..very, very cold outside…so as people arrived, they gravitated to the house instead of the outside chairs. Thankfully, we had prepared a separate room for my family and me to get ready for the wedding. I plugged in my curling iron and slipped on my red Jessica Rabbit dress (I hadn’t intended to dress as the “Hot Mother of the Bride” but try finding a red semi-formal dress without vavavoom!). I slipped into the powder room to put on my makeup. Suddenly, someone burst into the room….all bouncy with a high-pitched over-the-top girl greeting…..it was an old “friend” of mine (you know….the one I wrote about in my last blog…the one who ditched me to hang out with my X)……I tried to match her excitement…..to give her the benefit of the doubt…..to reconcile my feelings with how she was greeting me……I hugged her back and resumed making myself forever-photo ready.

Walking into the dressing room, I noticed my curling iron was unplugged…..my things had been moved…..and saw that my “friend” had taken over my space. Furious, I walked back out of the door……heart pounding…..palms sweating…..and stopped in the hallway…wondering what to do. The home was now completely full of people and there was nowhere for me to go……what to do…what to do…… It hit me…..I am the Mother of the Bride… Turning around, I opened the door and walked back in (Pale Rider playing in the background of my mind)…..I firmly but calmly ask my old friend to please find another place to get dressed…and told her how I felt about her ignoring my emails and Facebook requests. Did she hear my voice quiver? Did she have any idea how awkward this was for me….did she even care?? Now I feel like a jerk……I am stressed to the max…..I need a drink….well….maybe drinking isn’t a good idea…..

Pulling myself together, I head to the center of the house where friends and family were congregating. There was a sea of people and all seemed a blur….noise all around me…..people all around me…..stress….stress…stress……I look around and saw a familiar pair of warm brown eyes watching me….loving me….waiting for me….. The Man puts his hand on my shoulders and I breathe a sigh of relief. This is going to be okay……

The wedding was beautiful……my daughter is now a Mrs. and we head to the reception. Although I won’t bore you with all of the crazy details of the ceremony, photos, and reception blunders…..I will tell you that I now call it National Lampoons Wedding Week….as there was craziness after craziness after craziness….but like Clark Griswold’s Christmas decorations…..all turned out beautiful.

Sitting in my chair at the reception, drinking a glass of fine red wine….I reflected on the day……wondering how I was going to get through the rest of the evening with me on one side and the X on the other…..with His and Hers family and friends on either side of the dance floor. Then…….I remembered…..I had brought them after all……my cherry galoshes are under the gift table….waiting. I looked at the Man and said, “It’s time for the galoshes.” Slipping them on was such a freeing moment…….galoshes with a stunning red dress……that is soooo Becky Pruitt…… I grabbed the Man’s hand, stepped out onto the dance floor and splashed in every puddle life gave me that day.

Ouch!!!!

2009-10-05T16:07:00.000-04:00

So……my feelings are hurt…..really, really hurt. I am not sure why - after all this time - that they are still hurt, but I cannot lie….it smarts!

Going through separations and a divorce with the X was very difficult……and it is expected to be difficult. It’s hard to live with and love someone for 16++ years and suddenly let go. That is expected and a “known” factor. The unexpected, however, was the friends who suddenly disappeared from my life as a result.

I understand that this is common……I understand that people feel they have to choose one person over another…..or that they may refuse to choose and leave both parties behind. It is understood in my mind, but that message has a hard time traveling to my heart. I invested myself in my friends…..I cared for them…..and allowed myself to be transparent enough for them to take care of me in return. We cried together and played together……learned together and laughed together. What happened????

My friends leaving was almost as devastating as my X leaving. Given…..the X and I were together way longer than my friends and I were…..but in all reality, I can see the things I did to put a wedge between myself and the X…..I can see how I hurt him…..deeply at times…..I remember (cringingly) the fights, the hurtful words, the drama that happens at the end of a marriage…..and (although I don’t like it) I can see why he felt he needed to leave. But my friends…..what happened?? It seemed as if they were there one minute and then they were gone….poof….out of my life forever. Why? Well….I KNOW why……the uncomfortableness…..the busy-ness…..the “out of sight, out of mind” syndrome…..and the inevitable….”I just like the X better…..we have more in common…..” Ouch!! Really??? You want to pick HIM?? Really??

Now some say that if my friends left, then they weren’t really my friends. While this is a comforting thought…..I have pretty much dismissed it out of hand. How many times have I gotten busy with my life and left friendships to wither in the dust? How many times have I not known what to say and then said nothing at all? How many times have I lost contact with someone I really connected with? Did it hurt them? I think it did…. Sometimes people suck (myself included). People miss the mark. They hurt people they care about……and…..sometimes…..I think they simply stop caring. Ouch!

So…..I have tried to get back in touch with one said friend. I email her from time to time and have even sent a facebook friend request. It’s been sitting around…..unanswered…..until I checked last night…..and it was officially ignored. Ouch! I racked my brains……what in the world did I do?? How did we go from close girlfriends….to casual friends…..to “I can only be friends with your X?”

How I want to fix it!! How I want to internalize it and make it somehow a result of my actions……so I can fix it…..and make everything right…….

But….the lesson for me today is not to fix……not to take on guilt that is not mine to take……and like my Man always tells me….to be sad and be okay that you are sad….period….no fixing…..no need to force the rainbow….no tying it all up with a big pretty red ribbon. In other words….be real…..and allow others to be real in return. It doesn’t have to make sense…it is what it is.

To Punt or Not to Punt

2009-09-28T22:06:00.004-04:00

Another week, another guest blog. I love reading the perspective of others! It keeps me encouraged on my own journey.....

This week, The Man steps in and gives his perspective. I am confident that after you read his post, you will instantly know why I love this man!!! He is so fabulous!!

For those reading on Facebook, remember to check out my official blog page at www.divorced-diva.blogspot.com Enjoy!!

Football is finally back. Monday’s workouts at the health club are
always more robust with the ESPN highlights adding a needed adrenalin rush to offset the usual Monday reluctance to get back into the swing of things. Time to warm up on the elliptical, watch precious footage of Jessica Simpson’s ex-boyfriend losing in their new gazillion dollar stadium (with a scoreboard costing more than the old stadium), and crack open the latest Sports Illustrated.

While considering how the makers of the mammoth Dallas scoreboard failed to do some basic math to determine how high it should be in order to be missed by a punt, I found a story of a high school coach who did some statistical analysis and determined that punting was a mistake.. not just sometimes, but always.. . His team has not punted in over 2 years, and they don’t plan on punting.. ever.. They don’t bother trying to return punts either.. In case you are wondering if this is an act of sheer lunacy, his team won the 5A State Championship.. in the glorious state of Arkansas, home of your friend and mine, the Divorced Diva (which seemed like my lightning bolt from the sky to finally write a guest blog in this space).

Here is an example of some analysis the coached used to make his decision:

"If Pulaski has a fourth-and-8 at its own 5-yard line, Kelley said his explosive offense likely will convert a first down at least 50 percent of the time. If it fails to convert, statistical data from the college level shows that an opponent acquiring the ball inside the 10-yard line scores a touchdown 90 percent of the time. If Pulaski punts away (i.e., a 40-yard punt with a 10-yard return) the other team will start with the ball on the 38-yard line and score a touchdown 77 percent of the time. The difference is only 13 percent."

So simply put, the risk/reward ratio favors not punting, even in this extreme example.

Now, before the objectors storm the gates.. Yes, this team has an explosive offense.. Yes, it’s high school and the punters are not that great.. and yes, there are exceptions to this ‘rule’.. Having said that, the question still remains.. why is punting the ‘rule’ and ‘going for it’ the exception in today’s game, and not the other way around? Even using the most strict statistical analysis, the bottom line is that at every level of football, coaches and teams do not ‘go for it’ as often as they should.

The answer.. according to the article.. briefly put is ‘saving face’. A coach doesn’t want to have to face an administration having risked it on a fourth down and failing.. So instead of choosing an opportunity for victory, the coach and the team may fall short of their potential at best, or die a sure and slow death at worst..

Hmmm..

Do any life applications come to mind when hearing this? If ‘going for it’ on 4th down can be likened to winning the game of life and relationships by having love, intimacy (knowing and being known), truth, trust, openness, vulnerability, understanding, etc.. and punting were likened to ‘throwing in the towel’ and temporarily or permanently giving up on those things, what does it mean to go for it, even on 4th down? When do we play it safe and punt, hoping to not lose ground, instead of going for it, to actually win the game?

Every Sunday on ‘my weekends’, I drop off my boys after spending 5 days with them. Every time, it’s hard, and I usually cry. If and when I talk to my girlfriend around that period.. I usually mention it.. I don’t know if it’s a flaw, and I am surely not trying to impress her, but I know it’s sharing a very real piece of how I am feeling, in real time. For all I know, it may be getting on her nerves by now, so it’s risky.. It would be much safer to not even bring it up, and there was a time I wouldn’t have done so. For you, it may not even be equivalent to a 4th down. For me, it’s like 4th and 10 at my own 30 yard line.. a risk.. And I’m still not sure it will get me the first down.

After months of dating, there comes the inevitable argument(s)(some of you out there only have 1 per relationship, so please bear with us who don’t get it yet!). She feels bad, really bad for her stuff, and her part, and is sorry and says so.. and there are walls between us.. I see my part as clear as day, but hey, why mention it? It’s safer to keep it out of the conversation. After all, I would have to admit that I was wrong about something I defended so convincingly before. Goodness, talk about risk! 4th down, 15 yards to go.. Just punt.. play it safe! I can just be really forgiving you know (and isn’t it nice that she will offload some of my guilt)! Should I let her know and admit that I totally blew it.. again? Should I let her know that I struggle in this area, and it might take a while for me to get ‘better’ at it? Shhh Punt! … she will never know!

The ‘defensive’ and ‘safe’ move, makes it harder to win… when winning is defined by things that make a relationship truly successful (intimacy keeps coming to mind – knowing and being known).. Revealing our true selves (especially our flaws) usually feels risky, and hiding our true selves usually feels safe, but in actually, the opposite is true! Honestly, from my experience, it seems more like every time I punt, it gets returned for a touchdown against me, and whenever I ‘go for it’, I make at least a first down, and sometimes even score a touchdown..

Now I will be the first to admit, that ‘going for it’ doesn’t always ‘work’ in the way we might want it to, or think it should.. For example, in a previous relationship much of my ‘openness’ and ‘vulnerability’ seemed to ultimately backfire (relationship ended).. But truth be told, the situation and risk taking revealed our incompatibility, resulting in the ending of a relationship that wasn’t meant to be.. a winning play in the grand scheme of things.. My hope and desire is that I would live more and more in a way to win the game, and less and less to save face, or to play it safe.. punting less, and going for it more..

Well.. you may be facing a 4th and 5 at the 50 yard line.. Are you going to punt, or go for it? What’s your play coach?

Thoughts from the Daughter.......Ken and Barbie

2009-09-23T12:49:00.001-04:00

In the spirit of having my blog, The Divorced Diva's Guide to Survival, be a true guide to survival - to give a true perspective on divorce and getting through the process, I have asked a few people to guest blog their experiences. My daughter, a lovely, complex, competent, young woman has agreed to share her thoughts............

It is 3am and I have been writing paragraphs and pages only to scratch them all out. I was asked to write a piece about being a child of divorced parents quite some time ago. It has been one of those things that you put off so long that it’s all you can think about. How do I write about my experience of my parent’s divorce? How do I write about something that still has an effect on me?

Every little girl dreams of meeting Prince Charming. We imagine it, we draw it in pictures, and we enact it with our Barbie and Ken dolls. The term “happily ever after” is taught to us all throughout our lifetime. Like when you have your first serious boyfriend, you think it will last forever. Then the next week you break up, your world is shattered. I had this crush on this guy when I was a freshman in high school. He was the first guy I ever truly liked...and surprise! He liked me too! So we get to talking and have lots of mutual interests. But one slight problem...I was not allowed to date. In my mind it wouldn't matter...he liked me I liked him...end of story. We were going to be together forever yada yada. Well that very next week he was into another girl. Sad story. The same goes with watching your parents get divorced. Your whole life, you see these two people together, walking through life with you, and you think it will be that way forever. When you find out that it doesn't exist anymore...this ideal of happy parents...it is just as much of a sad story as that first boy crush your freshman year of high school. It changes your perspective on everything.

I am getting married in 26 days. Two-six. Terrifying. These two opposing views of how relationships work make the prospect of marriage hard. I love my fiancée, he loves me…but what if it’s just a Barbie and Ken? I grew up knowing a happy set of parents, but then things happen and it doesn’t work. It creates doubt in my mind. My perspective has been changing...and I didn't ever believe that I would ever truly be comfortable getting married. However, the closer that wedding date approaches...the more calm I am. Marriage can happen for all of us.

Despite all of the doubt that past events can create for the future, the future is just that…still in the future. It is unknown and undecided. It is ready to be written. Natasha Beddingfield had it right in Unwritten:

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
the rest still unwritten

Why Being a Single Parent is Hard……

2009-09-20T19:03:00.000-04:00

This weekend, I overheard a conversation between two ladies speaking of a woman they knew who was divorced. The ladies commented on how sad it was that this woman was not the parent she was when she was married. The woman (I’ll call her Sue just to give her a name) used to be “all about the kids.” Sue was a great mom who doted on her children, was creative, fun, and an engaged parent. Now that Sue is divorced and dating, her life has changed a bit……..and her “poor, poor children” don’t understand why mom is not available 24/7. The ladies continued their observation with the *shocking* statement - Sue now wants to have her ex take the kids every other weekend so she can spend time with her new boyfriend instead of splitting every weekend with her ex.

As I eavesdropped on the conversation, I felt a surge of protection for Sue…..I’ve BEEN there….I’ve DONE that……and I wanted to jump in the conversation and give these ladies some perspective…..

I too am not the parent I once was. My divorced friends with children have admitted to the same. Although I was never the perfect parent, I always tried to be around my kids…to have dinner at the table most nights…..to make breakfast on the weekends…..to have food in the refrigerator (a complaint I hear often now). I stayed home with my kids, planned parties, built fires outside, made cookies, played games, had fun family vacations, went shopping…..and had THE best holiday experiences.

I miss those times….a lot…..and many times I wish I could turn back the clock and make things work just to have that life back……but I can’t.

If I were to be brave enough to butt into that conversation, I would have spoken of how lonely being a single parent is…….where you once had another adult to unwind with at day’s end, now you are a parent 24/7. Where you once had someone to share the load with….you are now exhausted. Being a single parent is hard because you are torn between parenting your child and wanting to build new relationships…..and that takes time….time to spend together…..it is such a tug-of-war. Although some people would say that raising the children comes first (and I do agree in principle that it does)….what happens when the kids leave and the parent is left with nothing? As a 40 year old woman, that is a scary thought. My friends who are the same age feel the same. Do we really want to be 45 or 50 years old and THEN looking for someone to build a relationship with….really??

Although I do realize that the totality of my life is not whether or not I have a man in my life…….it sure is nice when you find that person…..life starts to feel a little “normal” again…..

Dealing with the X factor is another difficult thing about being a single parent. Nevermind the typical miscommunications and differences of opinions----one of the hardest things for me to hear is, “well, Dad said I could…..” Lordy, lordy….my temperature starts to rise….blood starts to boil….and the kettle starts to sing….. Suddenly, I feel as if I am in a competition with the X and he is winning (I so hate to lose). Now that my kids are older, it has gotten very difficult to refrain from spilling my guts over how I really feel about that…..and I am embarrassed to say that there are times that in the heat of “competition” I have been too quick to point out the flaws of said father figure in order for myself to look better…….and….it has backfired every time.

Truth be told, every time I hear those words, I am ushered back to the end of my marriage and the feelings of rejection that I felt. When my children say those things, I desperately want them to see me in that good light….to have me be their hero…..to know how much I want to do the best thing for them….even if it isn’t the most popular. I want them to see how I struggle with being a good parent…..how I agonize over every decision…..how inexplicably tired I get (and therefore how grouchy I can be sometimes). But those things are hard to show your kids without sounding like a big nag and without sounding like a guilt trip.

Now that my kids are both adults, it has gotten even more difficult in some ways. They get to choose who they spend holidays…..weekends……..vacations with. Hearing, “I’m going to stay with Dad for my time off….” or “I am having Thanksgiving with Dad..” pierce my heart. Of COURSE I want them to spend time with the X, of course he needs holidays too (ish)……and I understand in my mind that this is a good thing…….but I want to be selfish and keep them all to myself. In truth……it is just hard.

So……I chickened out of my impulse to butt in to the conversation…..Sue will continue to be the fallen star of the parent world….but I resolved to once again be transparent in a place where I would rather keep private….and share (even in a small way) my personal struggles hoping that it is an encouragement to those on this same journey.

New Horizons by David Gray

2009-08-28T08:53:00.004-04:00

I heard this song on Pandora this morning and I just had to share the lyrics.....they touch my inner being so much and are just so true for me.....

I love the dichotomy of love.....or maybe more specifically, the dichotomy of self.

My favorite part....

So I'm gathering all the remnants of beauty
From this wilderness in spin
And now I'm gonna light my own flame
'cause I'm charged with the radiance of the dawn
That's been so long breaking

I love the phrase, "remnants of beauty..." it's like one of the beautiful quilts my grandma and great aunts make......remnants cut into flowers, stars, and little Dutch girls.....elaborately sewn together with a beautiful colorful thread......placed on top of a muslin sheet....and wonderful secondary designs quilted over them by hand with small, deliberate stitches.....designs that can only be seen from the otherside...the side not usually seen by the initial look....designs that can only be seen underneath......that is my life.....remnants of beauty from hurt, disappointment, words......they are shards of hope left in the aftermath....some big...some small.....but beauty nonetheless....remnants sewn together to create who I am.....a beautiful, imperfect work of art.

Enjoy the lyrics...

"New Horizons"

Weight on my shoulders
But I'm walking so tall
Out into the new horizon
Wonder in everything
No matter how great or small
Howlin' like the midnight
Howlin' like the midnight sun
And this ain't no pale reflection
This is the real thing
New horizon
New horizon within

And your heart ain't yours to control
No matter how tight the reigns
Love will find it's own direction
A time to reap, a time to sow
And many a time to cry in vain
But now the time to celebrate
The glory of this imperfection
Same thing that's scrawled across the stars
Is written under our skin
New horizon
New horizon within

Things come too easy, I get suspicious
Things come too slow, I get bored
If it don't work out I get superstitious
But if it does, oh my word

So I'm gathering all the remnants of beauty
From this wilderness in spin
And now I'm gonna light my own flame
'cause I'm charged with the radiance of the dawn
That's been so long breaking
Now there ain't nowhere
There ain't nowhere I won't write your name
There's a time to search for understanding
Sometime you just gotta sing
New horizon
New horizon within

Baby there's no need to get precious
When you know that everything must change
Complacency, it can be so vicious
Turn this love into a cage

Same thing that's scrawled across the stars
Is written under our skin
New horizon
New horizon within

Indy Fringe Festival Reviews

2009-08-24T20:09:00.003-04:00

As Posted on Smaller Indiana:

Indy Fringe Day 1

The Cask of Amontillado

Wine…..revenge…..intrigue…..opera…..costumes….Edgar Allen Poe…..what more could a girl want in a Fringe Festival show?? The Cask of Amontillado promised to be a fun diversion for the Man and me on a Saturday afternoon.

It’s interesting to me that operas are one of my favorite things….although they are typically somewhat tragic. The Man and I have the discussion often about tragic music (which he likes) and happy music (which is my preference). I once asked him to sing a happy song for me at Karaoke to which he sang Nirvana. Gotta love a witty man!!

This was The Man’s first opera and our first Indy Fringe show. I was both a little nervous and a little excited to try something this much out of the box.

The opera started with a couple of fun arias written (I suspect) to use more time and to allow stragglers to wander in without disrupting the show. The cast was talented and the opera followed Poe’s story almost to a “T” (I looked it up when I got home). The singers were engaging and believable as their characters.

Wine….wine…wine……a gentleman knows his wine….

The story is about a man, Montressor (don’t you just love that name….it sounds just like a villain of an 80’s hero cartoon) who was slighted by the proud, popular wine loving Fortunado and plots to avenge himself while acting as Fortunado’s friend. Montressor plots to lure Fortunado to his wine cellar with a promise of a rare find….a fine, fine sherry….Amontillado.

Montressor being the sly dog that he is, uses Fortunado’s pride in distinguishing wine and competitive spirit to get him to leave his friends during Carnival to come to his home. He hinted that he knew nothing about the wine, but had foolishly paid full price and mentioned that another friend had unsuccessfully tried to determine the wine. Whenever he spoke of whether the wine was authentic, Montressor would sing, “I...have..my…doubts.” Fortunado, of course, jumped at the chance to taste the unusual wine.

Down in the cellar, Montressor proceeds to trick Fortunado…chains him up in the corner…..and lays brick after brick…row after row…..in essence burying him alive.

While I would love to judge Fortunado harshly for changing his plans simply to taste a wine……I can recall several moments in recent history where I was ready to leave a party and my good friend, W, would say….”but I was going to open an A. Rafanelli”…..and all caution was thrown to the wind. Like Fortunado, wine can be my downfall.

Being an opera lover, the performance was entertaining. As a matter of fact, I started thinking it is a wonder that more Edgar A. Poe’s writings don’t make it to operatic form…..the elements are all there…..but…..whether or not The Man truly enjoyed it, I can’t lie…..”I….have…my….doubts…..”

Nonetheless, it is a worthy show with talented artists! Check it out at www.indyfringe.org

Tortillo!!!

Indy Fringe, Day 2

The Man and I head down to Mass Ave to check out something a little different than Saturday’s Edgar Allen Poe Opera, The Cask of Amontillado. We decided that the end of the weekend and the quickly approaching Monday needed a good shot of laughter and Tortillo was just what the doctor ordered.

Scooby Doo meets the snack food industry…….meets Batman and Robin…..including a quirky but hilarious “guest star appearance” of a psychedelic English rock star janitor.

I was expecting light fare….a comedy…..but the incredible wit in the script took me by surprise. See…..I’m not usually much of a comedy girl…..seriously. Put me in front of a popular comedy, Madea Goes to Jail, Police Academy, whatever, and I squirm like a redeck in an Opera House. It just doesn’t jive with me…..it’s not my style. It’s not that I don’t like to laugh……it’s just that I usually don’t in this type of entertainment. That said…..I laughed…and laughed….and laughed. I peeked over my shoulder at The Man and he was absolutely cracking up!

Maybe it was the similarity to my beloved Scooby Doo Mysteries (with a little adult humor….well…a LOT of adult humor)…the snacks….the goofs…..the over the top villans….the surprise “pulling off the hat” endings…..the guest star. Whatever it was…it added together to make a delightfully witty feature.

The guest star was my favorite! The Man and I spent most of the time admiring his shirt…and watching his sideline antics.

All in all, I would recommend Tortillo….it’s a great laugh….and, in my opinion, a great Fringe show to bring a date.

Preparing for Disappointment

2009-08-18T14:15:00.003-04:00

What If? By Coldplay

What if there was no light.
Nothing wrong, nothing right.
What if there was no time?
And no reason or rhyme?
What if you should decide
That you don't want me there by your side.
That you don't want me there in your life.

What if I got it wrong?
And no poem or song..
Could put right what I got wrong,
Or make you feel I belong?

Let's take a breath, jump over the side.
How can you know it if you don't even try?

Every step that you take
Could be your biggest mistake
It could bend or it could break
But that's the risk that you take.
What if you should decide
That you don't want me there in your life.
That you don't want me there by your side.

What if? What if my heart gets broken? What if I fail? If I “buy into the magic,” I will be more hurt if it doesn’t work out. The heart has to be protected…… reasoned…… desire for something amazing has to be held at bay until we are “sure.”

When my kids were little, we took them to Disney for a week. Being somewhat skeptical by nature, the X and I made a decision to “buy into the magic,” to allow ourselves to get excited about all that is Disney for our kids’ sake. So…..we looked for every character, wore mouse ears, skipped down the sidewalk and otherwise embarrassed our kids. You know what….we had a BLAST!! You know what else……Disney without the “magic” can be it’s own level of hell in Dante’s Inferno……lines, silly music, grouchy people. Allowing ourselves to be a kid again and to feel excitement set the tone for the entire trip.

Relationships are that way. Divorced people have a tendency to hold back emotionally (and honestly, so do a lot of single people). Although we may, “commit” to a relationship (and maybe even WAY too soon) we are still preparing ourselves to be disappointed. We were in love once and it hurt a heck of a lot……so love has somehow lost its luster….lost its shine….lost its magic. We are sometimes unwilling to let the relationship move at its own pace without feeling like we have to plan and control every move…every step. We cannot seem to “buy into” the thought that the other person is really “into” us without wondering at every step if there are signs that we aren’t seeing….reasons why we are not right for each other……preliminary yellow caution flags that may or may not precede a red relationship-ending flag.

What would it hurt to allow yourself to embrace the romantic….the magic…the feelings that go deep?? Do we honestly think that if we hold back and the relationship ends that it won’t hurt?? Really?? It’s gonna hurt……it’s gonna hurt more being in a relationship devoid of desire - - the desire of the heart.

John Eldridge writes this in his book Desire:

Most of you will by this time have lost a parent, a spouse, even a child. Your hopes for your career have not panned out. Your health has given way. Relationships have turned sour. We all know the dilemma of desire, how awful it feels to open our hearts to joy, only to have grief come in. They go together. We know that. What we don’t know is what to do with it, how to live in this world with desire so deep in us and disappointment lurking behind every corner. After we’ve taken a few Arrows, dare we even desire? Something in me knows that to kill desire is to kill my heart altogether.

Desire is the source of our most noble aspirations and our deepest sorrows. The pleasure and the pain go together; indeed, they emanate from the same region in our hearts. We cannot live without the yearning, and yet the yearning sets us up for disappointment—sometimes deep and devastating disappointment. One storm claimed the lives of eight of Krakauer’s companions in the Everest disaster of 1996. Should they not have tried? Many have said they were foolish even to begin. Do we reach for nothing in life because our reaching opens us up to tragedy? Because of its vulnerable nature, desire begins to feel like our worst enemy.

Desire…..allowing yourself to desire…to be vulnerable….to invest in the lives of others…truly invest. It’s much like being a kid again. Children have the innate ability to imagine the possibilities…..to experience great joy…..to run with no holds barred. What happens when Peter Pan grows up?? He forgets….he explains away…..he is skeptical.

So….what does that mean for me?? It means buying into the “magic” of life…of relationships…allowing my heart to grow….to love genuinely….to be “all in…”

Rescue Me....Nah!!

2009-08-15T14:40:00.007-04:00

Growing up in Arkansas, I was enthralled with the story of Petit Jean Mountain - - of how the mountain got its name. Grandma had an old Arkansas history book on her bookshelf and on those hot, muggy summer days, I would pull out the book and read the story over and over again.

There was a French nobleman, Chavet, who gained permission from the king to explore the new world in the 1700’s in order to stake a claim to the land for himself. Chavet was engaged to a young woman named Adrienne Dumont (who is a kindred spirit!!). When Chavet told Adrienne he was off on this new adventure, Adrienne asked that they be married immediately so she could go with him. Worried about her safety and comfort, Chavet told her that he wanted to check out the New World first and if it was safe, they would come back together and be married in the New World.

So……Adrienne cut her hair, dressed up as a boy and gained employment on her fiancée’s ship as a cabin boy. She gave herself the name of Jean. Jean soon won over the hearts of the shiphands with his(her) sunny disposition and they affectionately called him(her) petit Jean.

The ship traveled up the Mississippi and up the Arkansas River to the foot of the mountain. Native Americans met the ship and welcomed the visitors. They invited them to stay atop the beautiful mountain all summer long. The Native Americans fell in love with petit Jean with his(her) spirit and joy for life.

At the end of summer, the ship was preparing to depart for France. The night before departure, petit Jean fell ill. His(her) body was wrecked with fever, convulsions, and sometimes delirium. Jean’s true identity was discovered and she begged for Chavet’s forgiveness. The departure was delayed and the nobleman, shiphands, and Native Americans did everything they could do to help Adrienne, but her sickness became more and more grave. Adrienne asked to go to the top of the mountain where she liked to sit and look over the river. The Native Americans built a stretcher out of deerskins and bore her to the top - to her favorite place. She died at sundown. Her grave still sits in my favorite place on the mountain. As a kid, I loved to sit there on top of the rocks and look over the whole world.

Adventure……..love……importance…..joy…..these are things that stir my heart. Female characters such as Eowyn, Cora in Last of the Mohicans, Sacagawea, Queen Elizabeth inspired me - - they were both beautiful, capable and oh so wonderful.

When I was young, I wanted to either marry Bo Duke (sigh), Tarzan (Johnny Weissmuller of course) or Little Joe Cartwright (yes, it’s true). I wanted a part in their great adventure……in their life….in their family. Every day seemed to bring great adventure. I would practice my skills climbing trees, swinging from branch to branch…..rolling down the car windows and jumping through them….moving cattle from one place to another. As a teenager, I learned to drive on an old dirt road and loved nothing more than to fishtail up a hill in my Ford Galaxy 500 pretending that getting up that hill in lightning speed was of the utmost importance (sorry Dad!).

Where did that girl go?? I think I lost her for a while…..but she’s baaack!!!

The X and I had a different sort of relationship. I would characterize it as more of the Desi/Lucy show. I would get myself in all sorts of mischief and complicated situations and the X would enter the scene and in frustration and exasperation, holler “Lucy!!!.” (I think he actually did use that name from time to time)….. He would come home, flour all over the kitchen from the food processor……..animals would be out……paint would be in my hair….whatever. I would look a bit sheepish and apologize……bat my eyes and promise to do better and he would forgive me…..roll his eyes at my tendency for the complicated…..and know that I would never change. The X came to my rescue many, many times from my adventures……

BUT……looking at my life now….do I really WANT to be rescued?? Really?? Do I want a man who will come running in and save me at the last minute (while I am kicking myself for getting in this predicament….again)?? Really??

What I want is not a rescuer - - I want a partner in crime…..someone to have my back while we storm the gates of hell with a water pistol…..someone whose eyes will brighten at a crazy idea and say, “let’s do it…” I want someone who will declare at 11:00 at night that he really wants to cook some wonderful creation with our bounty from the garden…..right now!! Someone who will listen to the sounds of my heart…the desires of my heart and not think they are silly or unattainable. I want adventure----even in the mundane.

Rescue me?? Nah…..let's get out of our predicaments together!

Let's Do the Time Warp.....Again

2009-07-08T16:20:00.002-04:00

It's astounding, time is fleeting
Madness takes its toll
But listen closely, not for very much longer
I've got to keep control

It’s a Jump to the left….and a step to the right…….

We all know the dance……some of us all too well. Hearing that song ushers me back to the first time I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show at age 16. I had never experienced anything so fun and interactive in all of my 16 years.

The Time Warp……..that place where our body is in the present, but our mind and emotion are in the past…..a sort of “Back to the Future.” I know the Time Warp well…….

It happens with my parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents, old classmates……that place where I am an adult but somehow am stuck in perpetual childhood/adolescence in someone’s mind. How often have I said, “I am 40 years old, I think I can handle it…..” How often has my OWN child said, “I am 20 years old, I think I can handle it….” It’s the Time Warp.

Relationships are much the same. We get stuck in a certain “time frame” with others and use that point of reference to judge actions, motives, and even outcomes. The X did that to me during our marriage and it was so very frustrating. No matter how hard I would try to tweak those annoying traits of mine, he was still ticked off at past behavior. Progress was seen as failure because I hadn’t “arrived” yet….I hadn’t completed the inner journey to fix the problem (if only I had a Star Trek transporter to put me where I needed to be).

Honestly, I do the same with him. If he is late with something, I assume he is still being irresponsible….if he shows confidence in something (even HELPING me fix my plumbing), I see it as proof that he is still arrogant. If he is busy…….well, holy cow….he is still busy…..so I won’t even go there…….

We tend to see each other through the lense of “experience,” however, that is not conducive to reacting appropriately to each other’s change. When I trained horses, I always looked for the, “smallest change and the slightest try.” In training, if I overlook the “tries” the horse becomes dull and unresponsive. Conversely, when I reward the smallest try (by a simple release of pressure), the horse becomes eager to try again, try more quickly and the desired outcome of our partnership becomes easy and seamless.

In horse training, I have to be willing to always start at level 1. If I know that it will always take level 54 to get my horse to do something, and start there, I am taking away his ability to better himself. In human terms, if I know that I have to really get on Junior’s case to mow the lawn and I start at that place, we will never have the benefit of finding that good place to work together….that place of partnership. Capiche?

So for me…..I am looking to find those places with the X where I can work with him as a person instead of the X-husband….to see where he really tries and to really appreciate those things. Life is just so much better that way!

Gotta Have Game Time

2009-06-21T14:42:00.001-04:00

Gotta Have Game Time

Fundamentals are so important. Basic skills of a sport laying the foundation of good play should be studied and practiced. However, they cannot be perfected unless there is some game time. Little Junior has had somewhere around 14 years of sports experience (and therefore Mom has had 14 years of sitting-in-the-stands-watching experience). I’ve noticed there can be holes in both the foundation of fundamentals and the perfection of skills if there is an imbalance of training and game time. I’ve seen kids thrown in the game without training of fundamentals. They typically emerge with bad habits that either (1) limit their abilities (2) hinder their progress or (3) set them up for injury of themselves or others. Conversely, I have seen kids practice fundamentals over and over, taking lessons, doing drills without being given much game time. They (1) get discouraged and quit every sport they try or (2) get so nervous in the game that they forget their skills and end up out of the game…..again.

Relationships are much the same. You have to have, “game time.” To perfect lessons learned and skills developed, you have to get in the game and allow yourself to play through the stress. The game shows our gaps and the gaps of the opponent. The game is fluid….it’s always changing and causes you to tinker with your skill and style at a second’s notice.

As The Man and I have reached the place where we are thinking of ourselves as a couple and not just “hanging out,” I have been surprised that all of the bad habits I have “gotten over,” start to reappear. This reappearance (much like the reappearance of a once thought dead soap star) has alarmed me and has set the stage of a few tense moments in the past few weeks. Listening skills I knew were perfected seemed to float out the window in the heat of a debate, encouraging words disappear from my vocabulary, once eradicated expressions of, “fine” and “whatever” have reappeared with a vengeance.

What has happened? Why have I reverted to old relational habits? I have been practicing, learning, trying………..so why are they back?

After a conversation with The Man about soccer….it hit me. He was talking about kids and sports and the need for game time. The Man spoke of the importance of playing under the stress of a game and how it changes everything. Split decisions have to be made - - last second modifications based upon the other player have to be done. He said that nothing can compare to the lessons learned in the game.

****lightbulb!!!!*****

It’s not that I haven’t learned new habits…….it’s not that I haven’t changed my playing style……however, I need “game time” to perfect those skills (as does he). The stress of a relationship - how much time is spent together, unmet or unrealistic expectations, hurt feelings, differences of opinions….all these things put into practice the lessons we have learned. Sometimes we will fail…..sometimes the old habits will come back.....sometimes the game is just hard….. If we take our toys and move on….if we quit playing…if we give up…..our skills will never be perfected. It takes time….but in the words of my horse trainer, Linda Black…..”I take the time now so that I don’t have to the time later.” In other words, if I allow myself extra time now (even if it is inconvenient) to work through issues and not sweep them under the rug, they will not keep reappearing…..getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Quite the converse! If The Man and I take the time now to work through issues that come up in our relationship in a healthy way, those issues will get smaller and smaller and smaller until they are but blips on our radar.

Besides……it’s much more fun to play the game than merely practicing our skills or watching others play!!

Stories Like These....

2009-06-09T13:17:00.003-04:00

Last weekend, I was in Albuquerque for a wedding….. My girlfriend’s son (who is my daughter’s age by the way) was getting married. Of course, I was feeling quite old as I have watched him grow up since he was a goofy, lanky red-headed 11 year old……

I arrived on Thursday afternoon and the final countdown for the wedding was underway. There were still outfits to buy, presents to wrap, relatives to entertain, and last minute changes to consider.

Of course with that…….their great dane was at the animal hospital (she had gotten bitten by something and had a severe allergic reaction), their oldest son (a groomsman in the wedding) had gotten food poisoning and had to go to the ER, a grandfather fell of the step at the wedding, outfits didn’t fit quite right……and other miscellaneous drama that is too complicated to mention... There were times when I looked over at my friend and admired how much grace and beauty she was showing under all the stress. At one point she looked at me and wondered how she was going to get through the day as crisis after crisis appeared. In a moment of inspiration, I told her, “stories like these make for good memories.”

The second the words fell off my lips, I knew that I was, “onto something.” Perspective…. I love that word…perspective. In the midst of transition, crisis, stress, change, we can decide how the events affect our lives……will they stifle us, make us bitter, cause fear or be seen as an opportunity for the next story to share? Will we cower in fear of the next crisis because we feel like we can’t take ONE MORE THING…or will we play with the hand dealt with grace and joy. Will we add it to the list of “what is wrong with our lives,” or will we learn from our mistakes and move onward.

When I was 12 years old, I lived 4 blocks from our elementary school. My best friend and neighbor, Susan, and I would ride our bikes to the school all summer, play on the playground, learn new bike tricks and generally entertain ourselves for hours. The driveway for the school was a large hill. At 12 years old, the hill grade seemed akin to Pike’s Peak. We would fly down the hill, riding our 10 speed bikes with no hands…no feet…..wind in our hair, laughing…….

On one such ride, I was talking with Susan and laughing - riding no hands and no feet, practicing my steering by leaning one way or the other. I didn’t notice a small ramp placed in the middle of the school drive. My bike hit the ramp and I was launched through the air in slow motion. I landed on the asphalt and skidded for what seemed like miles on my left leg. My wound was atrocious…..I had to walk my bike home and could barely walk. The scars from my wipeout are still visible 28 years later.

This week, while remembering the events that summer, I asked myself, “Did it stop me from riding my bike?”.….No… “Did I get fearful every time I got on my bike?”…..No. “Do I explain to everyone around me while riding my bike that I was a skateboard ramp victim and am working through my fears?” Heck No!!! What did I learn from the accident? I learned to PAY ATTENTION…..to be more aware of my surroundings….to still throw caution to the wind and ride with joy while understanding that there can be dangers ahead.

Our stories shape us, teach us, impact us……..but they are simply that…..stories. Our collection of life stories are what give our lives color….what makes us unique. To latch on to one story and forget the rest is a grave injustice to the beauty of our lives. Embrace the trials, share your successes, laugh, cry…….and when the rain pours down, let it wash over you……while splashing though the puddles in your pink galoshes.

Women Need a Little Adventure

2009-05-23T08:31:00.002-04:00

April and May have been the months for adventure for me. I have been to California Wine Country, the Kentucky Derby and festivities for the Indy 500. This past month has been full of friends and good times….. exploration….discovery……not of some deep truth within myself……but discovery of fun…adventure…..new things.

It is so easy to get bogged down in the every day….in the commonplace……and sometimes I think we need to change things up a bit for a fresh perspective or to simply hit the Reset Button.

Women need adventure. To rephrase a concept from Stasi Eldridge’s book, Captivating - women need to feel like Pocahontas leading Lewis and Clark on a great adventure. Now, I am not saying that we all need to go camping or travel in a canoe for months on end. What I am saying is that we need to do things out of the ordinary…..explore (whether it be a new country or simply a new restaurant in town….or heck…even a new nail polish color). We need to get beyond ourselves for a moment (or a week) and get our heart pumping with excitement - - to rediscover laughter. Life gets just too serious sometimes.

As I write this, I am eagerly anticipating my day with The Man. We are going on a bike ride together on a beautiful, sunny Saturday. It’s a little mini-adventure…..a time to get away from the “usual” and do something a little different…..to build a memory.

Make some time to do something different - even just for a day. Trust me…..it’s worth the effort!!

The Currency of Trust

2009-04-21T10:35:00.001-04:00

Pocket change…..quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies…..it adds up over time…but it does take time… John Maxwell equates trust with pocket change. You put in nickels, dimes, quarters when you build trust…..you take out nickels, dimes, pennies, quarters…when trust is somehow compromised either intentionally or unintentionally….in big ways and in small ways. Trust is a fluid thing…I think….it ebbs and flows…it builds….and diminishes. Lately, I have been thinking of trust as a beautiful fluid work of art - like the ocean…always moving….but beautiful nonetheless.

The idea of the Currency of Trust has been mulling through my mind for about a week or so. It started with me asking myself the questions, “Do I trust?” “When do I trust?” “How do I trust?”

If I trust someone in one area….is it reasonable to think that I will trust them in ALL areas?? I found myself chiding myself for not trying hard enough to trust…..and then I remembered currency….. $10 will get me farther in Southeastern Arkansas than in New York City….US currency may be strong in some areas and not in others. It’s the ebb and flow…..building….and cashing out.

My next thought was of the cashing out process…..what exactly is it that diminishes trust….even for a moment? Does it have to be a breach of trust..or can it simply happen when I am asked to trust in an area that I am uncomfortable? Over the weekend, I shared a story with The Man about my “ancient history.” My knees were knocking my mind was racing. I was telling myself that this is NOT a good thing…..this is a scary thing equal to the monster under my bed… The Man was supportive and completely non-judgmental…but days later, I found myself questioning…..some of the trust pocket change had been spent…..BUT it is an investment, not a loss.

I realized that when I allow myself to use some of that trust pocket change and allow others to draw out of my “account,” the rewards can be great. It is an investment in the future of our relationship - a chance for trust to grow.

Some people simply say that they aren’t trusting people because of their past. They need a constant stream of pocket change put in their account……but here is a thought…..if you hoard your change in a bucket….all you have is change in a bucket…..but if you allow yourself to invest trust in someone…..a business partner, a relationship, a sibling, a child that trust will grow….it will build. Will you be disappointed?? Absolutely without a doubt….but as you grow your bank of trust with others, you will see your relationships change.

So….where does that leave me???? Where is my point of growth?? To trust where I have not trusted before…to allow myself to be vulnerable in areas where I may fail…..where I may once again cry my eyes out…..to let the past be the past, learn the lessons I needed to learn and let go and trust. Who knows……it may lead to something beautiful inside myself.

The Importance of The List

2009-04-11T11:51:00.002-04:00

Walking through the door after my first post-marriage date, I felt a sense of excitement….of exhilaration….of “Holy Cow…what do I do now???” I had all kinds of questions (mostly about whether or not it was a date or just “hanging out”) and ju-ju-bees inside me….so I did what all women do, I called my best girlfriend, G, and shared my excitement….dissected every move….every word….every nuance (it’s what we women do)….

In sharing my thoughts on how much I liked him, G gently reminded me to keep my head in the game and suggested that I make a list. Being a lover of lists of all kind…..I thought this would be a fun diversion…..little did I know how much it would shape my philosophy of dating. G told me to list qualities-attributes I felt I needed in a potential life partner. Wow…that was thinking far ahead!! Honestly, I just wanted to go out and have a bit of fun and feel beautiful. Her words mulled through my brain for the next few hours…..questions of, “What do I need?” “What is important to me?” “ What type of man would I both respect and stay engaged with?” At 3am on December 11, 2007, I wrote my list in my journal. The List included things such as Close to Family, Likes to Dance, Passionate about God, Has Close Friends, etc.

The List has been an important conversation topic between my single girlfriends and myself. I have encouraged them to make their own lists….to really figure out what is important to them. It’s like networking - Who do you want to meet? Who is a good client for you? Narrow it down.

My suggestions for The List:

Positive attributes only - you can’t prove a negative…. ie: “doesn’t stay out late with his friends every night” isn’t a good list item (maybe he goes out every other night or every weekend or just simply doesn’t include you in his activities and you still have the “problem” that you are trying to avoid)- rather, look at the positive attribute you are wanting.

Keep the list somewhat short - the list does actually need to narrow down the field, however, for the list to be useful it can’t narrow down every single male in America.

Only put the important/necessary qualities on your list - not how tall, what kind of job, how many siblings, etc. It’s not a “wish list” but rather a target list. Although it may seem trivial to others, not dancing is actually a “deal breaker” for me…..it’s one of my favorite things to do and I spent many years with someone who would not dance….. therefore, it is on my list.

Make your list personal - who cares if everyone else in the world thinks a certain attribute is important……this is YOUR list and no one else has to see it. You are unique and your list should be as well.

Go back and re-read The List from time to time when you are dating someone. Trust me...one does forget. I honestly thought The Man would have a few of the attributes I so carefully thought out. However, when I re-looked at The List, he had almost all of them nailed down (yay!).

So…..what happens when you meet someone amazing, but they aren’t a fit? For me, when I find someone I have “chemistry” but doesn’t jive with my list, I put them in “The Friend Box.” There are many people I like hanging out with…but I don’t have to date them. If I really like them and they aren’t a “dating candidate,” I don’t simply move on and forget they ever existed……I invite them into my life as a friend and enjoy their company. If you look at it in networking terms, you are building an annuity stream of possibilities by building relationships rather than trying to “sell” yourself to everyone you meet. This is how I met The Man….through a great guy I have become friends with over the last year.

The question looms, “why date someone who is not a match for me?” Divorce is very lonely - being single is very lonely. There are times when I just wanted to feel special no matter who the person is…. Eventually, though, I realize this is not a healthy way to go about things - it is actually a recipe for disaster.

I was at a networking event at the end of a very long, tiring day. A glass of wine was definitely in my future! As I walked by the appetizer station, I saw the fried ravioli and made a bee line. Normally, this would be a total “yuk” for me…they weren’t really warm….nor were they particularly appetizing…but there I was piling my plate full. I was tired….hungry…..and stressed. I found myself eating every single one of the cardboard-tasting, cold, fried ravioli squares. I was momentarily comforted - - it met an immediate emotional need. Later, I felt terrible….not just because I ate something not on my diet “list”…but I felt sluggish from all the carbs…and knew that this was not a healthy choice.

Dating is like that - we make unhealthy choices to date people who are not a match for us simply because we want to feel special…..wanted….loved….beautiful….. We are tired from all of the dating…the rejection…the dashed hopes and just want to find someone….anyone. In the end, we are hurting ourselves by setting ourselves up for failure….and even by missing a golden opportunity because we are “with someone” and are no longer looking.

Is The List the “end all-be all” - - no way!! They are guidelines in the true Captain Jack Sparrow sense of the word. But The List can be an important tool to remind ourselves that we hold our opportunity for happiness in our hands….we can exchange our long-term happiness for short term comfort…..or we can invest in non-dating relationships and in those people who will be a true match. The choice is ours.

Divorce.....fabulous???

2009-04-05T11:11:00.003-04:00

Over the last week through conversations with friends and people reading my blog, I have come to the conclusion that I have made divorce sound a little too fabulous. Although my journey has been a time of self-discovery and great learning,I am simply playing with the cards I have been dealt…..making the best of a difficult situation…..creating a mosaic with the broken pieces of my life.

In all honesty, divorce is the hardest thing I have ever had to do - - it’s like a death - - like losing your best friend because of a fight - - because of issues that could not be resolved. Divorce brings feelings of loneliness and frustration - - feelings of being unwanted….of being a trinket that is casually tossed away….easily forgotten. No matter if you were the one to leave or the one wanting to stay, there is a grievious moment (or moments) of realizing the person you were going to love forever has moved on with his life…that your relationship will never be fixed…that it is done….forever. Before the divorce…..during those last moments of marriage this moment seems to be one of glorious freedom…..in reality…it’s like taking a bite into a beautiful fruit and realizing you have a mouthful of rotten, spoiled, nasty fruit……and you want to hurl.

Many people who are married and who are unhappy see divorce as a way to become happy….a way out…..to be themselves….to be fulfilled…to finally find “the one.” I submit to you that if you are unhappy and unfulfilled when married…….you will become an unhappy and unfulfilled divorcee -- that is unless you do some real work on the inner you and see what you need to change in yourself…..but those things take time and, in my opinion, happen as a way of survival from the trials of the divorce process.

Divorce is lonely. There are so many times I want my old life back. As I sit on my couch this Sunday morning, my eyes tear up as I think about how different things are now….. I just got home from going to church….alone….again. My son is gone on spring break so the house is quiet….again. There is no one to fix Sunday morning breakfast for….there is no one to wake up to and plan our day… My house is quiet….so I am never home. My fabulous girlfriends and amazing guy friends are a tremendous source of joy and support…..but I can’t exactly snuggle with them on the couch on a Saturday night.

I have built a good life….one full of friends, social activities, learning, joy and happiness. At this point, my X is a stranger….someone I don’t have a true connection with - nor do I really want to. I wish I could have talked to that independent, impulsive, passionate young woman who was newly married…..I wish I could have taught her how to be a good wife….a good partner…..a good listener….a good friend to her husband. I wish she would have learned those lessons before the bitterness set in…..before the hurt….before the Grand Canyon was created.

Yes, I have spent a lot of time creating the life I have always wanted - - but I would give anything to have spent that same time and energy creating the life I always wanted with my husband. I don’t write about these things much because I honestly don’t want to dwell on what could have been….on what I don’t have. Holding my marriage together after the affair was not an option I was given…..so I am playing with the cards I was dealt…..sitting on the edge of my seat hoping that my hand is a winning hand…..I’ve bet all I have…it’s sitting there on the table. Each hand that I win creates a bigger stack of chips for me….enables me to take more and more risk. Sometimes I win….sometimes I loose…..but I am determined to keep playing…even when the stakes are high.

Divorce is not fabulous……but it is not the end of the world…..

Hitting the Reset Button

2009-03-29T18:16:00.003-04:00

A few days ago, I was running down the path near my house. Running consistently this winter has been a struggle for me and I am determined to get back on track (my tight jeans and higher numbers on the scale have been quite the incentive). The problem is I am somewhat impatient….okay….I am VERY impatient and I tend to push myself too hard and then pay for it days later.

As I was running, I was getting all of the aches and pains that come from non-use - - my knee started hurting, then my shin, then my big toe, then my pinky toe, then my hip….you get the picture…..all at mile 1. I kept telling myself to just push through….keep going……keep running….one foot in front of the other. My shoulders started to sag and my mind was getting off track. My run was turning more into a shuffle of sorts….trudgery…..hell.

Now I am ALL about pushing myself through the hard times, but I was worried that I would end up injured and not be able to run for a few weeks….so I simply stopped running and began walking. The tape in my head began playing right on cue, “Becky, you need to run…..Becky, you are wimping out…..Becky, you will never get back in shape this way….Becky, you are a total loser…” Remembering my mantra of meditating on all that is beautiful, of good report, noble, and praiseworthy……I turned my thoughts to the positive and told myself that it was okay…that I would run tomorrow…or the next day. I reminded myself getting back on track would take time and there was nobody on the running path judging me….. (although I swear that somehow people are keeping tallies on my running habits as they drive by….but that is subject to another blog and possibly some heavy professional analysis)….

So….walking down the path, I shuffled the songs in my iPod to find something fun. Lo and behold, I felt like running again! My feet were light, my pace was good and no aches and pains. The Reset Button was hit. In allowing myself to regroup, I set myself up for success. In stopping my negative momentum, I was able to direct my energy positively. In the words of my horse trainer, “You can’t go through a pile of manure and come out smelling like a rose.” His point was when things are just falling apart, don’t keep moving in that direction because you feel like to you have to go through it……stop for a moment, regroup and then resume - get out of the mire and onto success.

As I ran back to the house, I thought of how important the Reset Button has been in my survival of divorce. Being able to be in the midst of an emotional crisis and allowing myself to stop and regroup has kept me emotionally healthy. By allowing myself to emotionally stop, I have been able to gain perspective on situations - to look at them with new eyes. When I charge through and become emotionally reactive things fall apart.

So Divorced Diva’s Rule number 3: When you feel overwhelmed, stop - - hit the reset button - find a killer song on your iPod, and start again at your own pace. That way you’ll end up smelling like a rose instead of the other alternative......

My Realtor Video Introduction

2009-03-26T10:41:00.003-04:00

It's been a busy, busy week here at the Dream Home Company, Realtors! I received the finished version of my video profile created by Dave Anderson at Pinpoint Multimedia. Creating the video was a lot of fun - - I had several out-takes which I am sure will come to haunt me at some point in time.... :)

Video Profile

Enjoy!

Bunny Hills and Karaoke Songs

2009-03-21T13:40:00.002-04:00

Fear is a curious thing….it can paralyze…it can motivate….it can damage…it can even inspire. The last few years, my mantra has been “don’t act out of fear - don’t decide out of fear - be proactive - have faith.” Fear causes me to act in the most irrational ways…..

Case in point:

When I first moved to Indiana in the early 1990’s, my (then) hubbie took me skiing in Michigan. I had never seen that much snow in my life…..I had never worn so many layers…giant gloves and goggles…and snow pants. I felt as if I were going to walk on the moon….the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man had nothing on me……

I took the obligatory ski lesson (which I was grateful) and set out for the bunny hill armed with the knowledge that if I fell, I knew how to get up. My (then) hubbie was off skiing the expert slopes and had pretty much left me to my own devices. There I was standing at the foot of the bunny hill….walking awkwardly in skis….looking around……and trying desperately not to look like a big ski-dork.

Looking to my left, I saw the tow rope the skiers used to get to the top of the hill. In my usual take charge fashion, I confidently trodded over to the moving rope and grabbed a hold----SPLAT! There I was…face-first in the snow…skis entangled…body flattened…..rolling around in the snow next to the tow rope trying to get my Stay Puff Marshmallow Man-self up….Wow….that was embarrassing!! I moved away from the rope and watched the bunny hill novices miraculously grab onto the rope and be ushered to the top…..oooohhh….they bent their knees and set back a little. A little more skeptical this time, I plodded back to the rope…this time armed with a little more knowledge. I bent my knees, grabbed onto the rope and was ushered to the top. Now this wasn’t too bad.

Wow! The hill didn’t look so tall from the bottom. I stood at the edge of the hill precipice…..dang!! Looking around desperately for another way down….I watch and hope for a miracle…..that I could just wiggle my nose and be transported down to the bottom….no such luck. I watch the little kids going down the hill-coming back up-going down-coming back up…..and think, “Becky Pruitt you can do this!!” So there I stand….ready to go 1…2…..2 ½ …..2 ¾ …no……okay…okay…here we go….I stand on the edge ready….poles in hand….determined…..1…2…I can’t…. The people around me must have thought I had lost my mind. This is the bunny hill for goodness sake!! An hour later….as I am still standing on the top of the bunny hill desperately hoping for a miracle…..up there all by myself…..I finally muster the courage to push off the hill and plow my way down. Whew…that wasn’t so bad!! When I got to the bottom, there was the (then) hubbie grabbing my arm telling me now that I had an hour or so practice on the bunny hill, I was ready to tackle the intermediate slope (did I mention that he is now the X….)

Last night, I did the same thing with karaoke. It is a foreign concept to me and for some strange reason (plus some past history…the X was a musician) it scares me to death. I want to be perfect (or at least not suck) and it is one of those things where you actually have to practice and be willing to try and fail. There are so many things out of my control (like the bunny slope) and so many variables. So I stand there looking at the words…trying to sing…but the words just won’t come out. I just can’t commit to sing….I just can’t seem to “go for it…” the risk of failure seems too great. Standing on stage, I try hard as heck to look “cute”….try not to get frustrated…. ….1…2….2 ½ …2 ¾ …. not going to happen……and I look for my escape…. and sit down once again without singing. The funny thing is---I WANTED to sing….desperately…but I just couldn’t.

The question looms……is this what I do when I am afraid?? Do I stand on the top of that hill and become paralyzed with inaction?? Do I second guess…analyze..compare and look for an escape? Am I missing out on the joy in life because I hold back…too scared to push off of the hill and start a journey…..sing a song……take a risk?

Be Brave, Becky….be brave!!

I Won I Won I Won!!!

2009-03-12T14:51:00.005-04:00

When Cindy Hartman of Hartman Inventory ran a contest on their blog http://www.hartmaninventoryblog.com/ to win two tickets to the Indiana Flower and Patio Show, I knew I had to enter......and.....drum roll.....I won!!! This is SO exciting to me as I rarely win anything....and I really wanted to go to the Flower and Patio Show...exciting stuff!!!

Here is my contest entry:

Why the Divorced Diva should have the tickets to the Flower and Patio Show

1. Growing up southern, flowers started to bloom in February…..and in Indiana every February and March I get really sad because I see no flowers….and it’s cold….and grey….and cold….and…brown….Getting to see all those flowers will make me happy beyond belief….a happiness I would be more than willing to share with those around me

2. My 40th birthday was 3 days ago….and it would make a nice present….and I DO so love presents!!!

3. It would give me a place to take the new man in my life……did I just say that publicly….yes, a new man……and what better place to test the muster of a man….than spending the day at the Flower and Patio show…..it would be a true act of service…

4. I would be willing to guest blog on your site about it and post a link from my blog to yours……..

5. I will Twitter your praises till the cows come home!

6. My yard is in desperate need of ideas….and now that I have lived there a year…I can now landscape….

7. I will invite you and your hubbie to sit on my deck, have a margarita and look at my garden……..which will be a thing of beauty because I went to the Flower and Patio Show

8. And last but not least…….drum roll……because I desperately need something new to add to my Facebook status!!!!

So now that I have won......I have an official date to the Flower and Patio Show....a true test of the measure of a man....as a matter of fact, Cindy sent me a personal note with the tickets asking me to let her know how the "test" goes.......a day of looking at flowers and decks....hmmmm....stay tuned

The Great Tire Change

2009-03-08T12:45:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, as I was out showing houses, I noticed that my tire was bulging out at the wall. This was no small bulge, but a giant goose egg - - the tire could blow at any moment. It was late Saturday afternoon and the tire shop I use was not open. Unsure of what to do, I called The Man (my new man, the boyfriend, the guy I am dating….not exactly sure what to call him, so for now, The Man will do...) and asked for his help.

He came to my rescue by driving to my house to change my tire. This was the first time I had even looked at my spare tire in the Audi……after all…..Divas don’t usually change tires…..that’s what we have AAA for. Now, I do say the word usually because I have changed a tire or two in my life…..but I make a much better helper….cheerleader…. supervisor…..question asker……

We take the tire out of its compartment (notice the word “we” which means in actuality that I helped by holding up the compartment lid) and notice it is a beautiful, full-size, brand new tire. I take out the jack and the tire tools (a tire iron and some other questionable piece of metal) and we commence to change the tire…..

Carlito (my powder blue Audi convertible) is pulled into the garage so we have a nice level place to work. The Man proceeds to take off the lug nuts. The end of the tire iron doesn’t fit over them correctly - - apparently they have plastic covers to make the lug nuts all pretty. Try as we might, we could not get them off. I had a brilliant idea….I’ll just Google it!!! The Man was a skeptic….there is no way that Google is going to tell us how to get a lug nut cover off of an Audi tire…..but my Google powers are great and I am anxious to show my new man just how fabulous I am at helping….and ta da… answer found….if you don’t have the super-dooper fancy-schmancy Audi Lug Nut Cover Remover… simple needle nose pliers will do. The question looms…..do I own a pair of needle nosed pliers? A moment of panic hits me……I don’t have all day as I am due to be at a charity dinner in an hour……are we going to have to go to the store?? But then…I remembered my Dad buying me a tool chest and filling it with guy stuff that I never thought I would need…..I remember saying to him, “Daddy, why in the world would I need needle nosed pliers….” I vowed to call him later and thank him!

Lug nut covers are off…….we look at the Audi car jack and attempt to figure it out. Trust me…this is no easy task. There are no instructions (I looked everywhere). It is the most flimsy jack I have ever seen….ever….. When Audi included it, I do believe that they thought no Audi owner in their right mind would EVER change their own tire….so it must be just for show.

We lift the car with the jack (don’t you love that “We” word again).. The Man tries to pull off the tire….and in slow motion….like Jack Bauer….I try to yell “nooooooo”….I saw the jack slipping sideways…..the car moving and then……The Man jerking his hand away and walking off…..oh no…..I hover…..I worry….I look at his hand all scraped up and a bit swollen….and rush him into the kitchen……to wash it and inspect it (don’t ask me….I had to do something…..it worked for my kids….washing their boo boos). This is a critical point in our brand new relationship…..mechanical stuff…frustration…. pain….recipe for disaster…worry…worry..worry…

We head back to the garage to try a second time. (I was worrying that maybe this was not a good idea.) The jack bent, the car fell again…eeek… I went next door to borrow a neighbor’s jack…. The tire eventually got changed, relationship in tact, everyone happy and I made it to my charity event…late but still made it.

Looking back, this was a good thing…..our first “project” together…..the first time we had to resort to Plan B, C, and D….. I asked tons of questions…..made suggestions….and even requested that the jack be placed where it wouldn’t scratch Carlito……and all was well…..there was no clash of egos…..no snippy comments….no frustrating sighs……but then again….we are dating….

I am glad that I asked for his help. That was a big step for me….asking for help…..putting myself out there in spite of my fear of rejection…..my fear that he would be too busy to help……not willing to help……or simply helping out of obligation and resenting every minute of it. It made me feel good that even for something as simple (or not) as a tire change, I was a priority…was special…..was going to be taken care of….and that is a nice feeling.

Plan B for Beautiful

2009-03-03T11:51:00.002-05:00

The last two months have been a bit crazy. It seemed like my family was constantly resorting to Plan B…or C…or D…. It didn’t matter if it was one of my children or myself, the initial crafted plan seemed to completely fall apart. This has been a great source of stress and I found myself looking for relief in the bottom of a box (or two) of Tagalongs as if the last cookie would be wrapped in gold and I would be whisked away to Willie Wonka’s factory to live in chocolate delight forever. But, alas, that was not to be and I had to remind myself that Plan B is an opportunity not an obstacle.

There is something beautiful in a Plan B - in the unexpected twist of events - in looking at a situation anew. The beautiful comes in the results….in the reminder that we do not always get to control our world.

For the last year, I had been planning on spending my 40th birthday in Tahiti. My mantra was, “if I have to turn 40, then it will be somewhere fabulous.” Plan B kicked in when my traveling companion couldn’t get the time off of work and I just couldn’t seem to make myself go alone…. (I can’t go to a restaurant alone…much less a vacation). So as my birthday came closer, I knew I needed to plan something, but just couldn’t decide on what to do. In actuality, I was wallowing and pouting (a field of expertise for me). Last year’s party was such a success, I knew I had to do something…but I didn’t know what. People gave their opinions on where to go and what to do and I tried to find a venue that would make everyone happy…..

Four days before my birthday, I decided to have my party at the same place as last year. It is a great venue…..the Upper Room at the Broad Ripple Steakhouse - - classy place, good DJ, nice owner…..I sent out last minute emails to all my friends…..and wasn’t sure if anyone would show up…. I felt the same trepidation last year…and the same delight as friend after friend greeted me with their smiling faces and birthday wishes. It wasn’t Tahiti….but my Plan B turned into a reminder that I am liked….loved…wanted..- a priority for so many wonderful people. Had I stayed in my pouty, wallowing place I would have never experienced it.

Lesson learned - be open to the unexpected….even if it seems disappointing at first. Allow myself to take a risk….to be vulnerable…..to let people in and to always look for that beautiful place amid uncertain circumstances.

When all was said and done….I realized that I did in fact celebrate my birthday somewhere fabulous……in the company of my friends.

Review of Crime and Punishment

2009-02-19T19:11:00.002-05:00

Crime and Punishment. Quite a provocative play to watch on Valentine’s Day - full of pride…..angst…..regret…..and shame. Dostoevsky’s novel set in St. Petersburg in the late 1800’s amidst a scorching summer reminds me of the Langston Hughes Poem, Dream Deferred - What happens to a dream deferred??…..Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?....Does it fester like a sore…then run??

The scene opened with the spotlight creating an intense gaze from the portrait on the wall…..looking down on Raskoinikov prostrate on the floor. He is in white rags…..spent….hopeless…angry. A man flings the door open and demands, “Do you believe in God….Do you believe in Lazarus rising from the grave??” Raskoinikov retorts, “Does it even matter?”

From that moment, we were funneled into the story of a young man who believed certain individuals had a right to commit lawless acts if the greater good was served…..yet wallowing in anguish for the crimes he committed. That duality of mind and spirit…..of truth and Truth……of believing God was in control and of believing man was in control propelled the story deeper and deeper until the emotions….the questions….the choosing between the “greater good” and an individual’s rights came to a head…..found a balance of sorts….or at least a balance of neither “side” being perfect. At the end, all I could do was look at my date and say, “Wow.”

This was the first time I had seen a play at the cozy Upperstage Theater. Walking in, I was momentarily taken aback with how close we were to the stage - the theater seating surrounded the stage on three sides. It was small….cozy….much like a community theater in size. However, once the play started, it was apparent that this was the same caliber as the productions on the main stage - with great detail taken with the movement, lighting and sounds in the production.

The production of Crime and Punishment was a bit “different” as there were only three actors in this complex story. The Director, John Green, created an engaging story with pauses in the character movements, onstage costume modifications, and props to reflect changes in characters. Most notable were the character changes of Jennie McKnight as Sonia, a young woman forced into prostitution by poverty; Alyona an unscrupulous pawn broker who preys on the poor conditions of others; and Lizaveta, the sweet and kind sister of Alyona who is oppressed under her sister’s unreasonable commands. The changes were seamless…..and quite believable. Never once did I think of her as the “other” character.

The play ended as it began, with Raskoinikov prostrate on the floor….being asked, “Do you believe in God…Do you believe in Lazarus who rose from the grave.” To which he replies, “Does it matter?” Sonia’s reply still gives me pause…..”It might.”

As I sat in the chair next to my Valentine date, I was suddenly glad he read the book in college and understood the inner and outer struggles of the characters…and that he didn’t think I was crazy to bring him to see Crime and Punishment on a day full of flowers and promises…..but then again…..I am a complex being…..and was being true to form…

Surviving Valentine's Day

2009-02-17T12:01:00.003-05:00

As I sit here at Hubbard and Cravens, drinking my earl grey tea, my mind goes back a few days contemplating the Valentine weekend… I had an amazing weekend full of friends, laughter, companionship and even a date…..yes, that is right….the girl who puts all into the friend box actually had a double date for Valentine’s Day. But of course, that is the subject of another blog……I am working on being transparent……but some things need to stay in my head for a while….

My thoughts for the past couple of days have gone to What Happened to Valentine’s Day?????

When I was a child, Valentine’s Day was one of my favorite holidays….. We spent a whole week in preparation - making “mailboxes” out of paper sacks, shoeboxes, envelopes and decorating them with hearts, glitter, cut-outs……it was just a beautiful holiday…..full of pink and red….lace…..candy…..love…..it was the highlight of the year. Before the class party, we would make the annual trek to Walmart to choose our Valentine cards and convince our parents that we truly needed candy to go inside them. Each card was addressed to my classmates with the selections thought out carefully. I loved getting all of the valentine cards and would sit for hours looking through them and of course sorting and eating the candy. My Valentines box/bag/envelope would become a treasure for the next month reminding me that I was liked…loved…..special.

Somehow as an adult, Valentine’s Day turned into a day full of pressure - of knowing in the back of my mind that I was somehow going to be disappointed….the expectation of having a dream deferred…a hope quashed. I know there are others who feel the same way. Why is that?? How did a holiday full of “community” - of parties, giving encouragement to friends, and of course, presents - turn into a day of isolation for a single girl (and even a married girl)?? Where did the shift begin?

Ghandi says to become the change in the world that you want to see…….so that is my goal - to take back those dates in my mind - - those dates on the calendar that loom over me like an anvil…..the dates haunt my soul and cajole me to eat a whole box of Girl Scout Cookies with a nice Cabernet.

Last year on Valentine’s Day, I called a guy friend to see if he would like to accompany me at the local Art Walk. We had a great time discussing art, drinking complimentary wine and eating fine chocolate. It was a great evening……and for the first time, I realized that I could take back the significant dates in my life and make them my own. I realized that I didn’t have to wait for someone else to plan, organize, or even generally make me feel special - - I could orchestrate my own happiness….and you know what - it worked. Two weeks later, I threw my own birthday bash…..it was a wonderful feeling….

So - I am taking back Valentines Day, my birthday, Easter, Mother’s Day, the Indy 500, the 4th of July, my old anniversary, my children’s birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. From this day on……these days will be filled with community, fun, food, laughter, and smiling caring faces…. The dates will no longer loom over me….reminding me of what “once was…” instead, I will create new memories to cherish and to add to the old memories.

As far as the date goes…..stay tuned……all is beautiful…..I feel special…..and for once in a very, very long time….I dare to hope and dream….