I'm all for a holiday tree!

I woke up this morning to see an interesting poll on Facebook.  The question was:  President Obama says that they will have a Holiday Tree this year instead of a Christmas Tree.  Do you agree with this?

The reaction by some of my fundamentalist and right-wing friends was predictable.  They did not agree with the possibility of renaming the "Christmas" tree to "Holiday" tree, and everyone had a slightly different take on it.

I normally try to stay away from discussing politics and religion with friends, as my oldest and dearest friends and I have tacitly agreed to disagree.  I love them all, but we have differing views, and for the most part I'm fine with that.  However, given the general reaction to this poll, I couldn't hold my tongue.

The reactions I've seen so far are these:

1.  This is the typical idea of a PC Liberal who doesn't know the definition of the First Amendment (Freedom of Speech, Press, Religion)


2.  Either use the Christmas tree for what it represents (the birth of Christ, I'm assuming) and call it by its rightful name, or don't have a Christmas tree at all.

3.  Surprise that Obama would bother calling it a Holiday tree at all, rather than just a Tree, because the word "Holiday" comes from the term "holy day".  The thrust of this argument was that try as some might to remove Christ from the population, He cannot be removed.

4.  General reluctance over changing the nominal designation of the Christmas tree.  No one would change other religious symbols (menorah, Kwanzaa symbology, etc), why change the Christmas tree?

It must be noted that the Christmas tree isn't Christian, at all.  Christmas trees, mistletoe, yule logs, feasting on ham, etc., are of Germanic pagan, pre-Christian origin and symbolize LIFE and SURVIVAL during the coldest, darkest, most life-threatening season of the year.  The customary use of a Christmas tree wasn't adopted until the 16th century in Germany.  It first made an appearance within a few scattered households, and later was adopted by one German cathedral after another until it became widespread, then finally introduced to the British and American cultures in the 19th century.  In fact, the Christmas tree historically has been controversial within Christianity because of its pagan origins.

Furthermore, this time of year isn't holy to only one faith,  nor only to Christ.  Changing the nominal designation of the tree within the White House does not "bastardize" a customary practice.  Not only would such a change absolutely excercise the First Amendment, but makes this ancient symbol more accessible on a national scale to practitioners of ALL religions within the nation. Having a "Christmas" tree in the White House connotes a strictly Christian faith for our nation, and does not include the multitude of religious practices we each have the right to enjoy.  A "Holiday" tree, on the other hand, would be a way of including EVERYONE in this nation at this special time of year, rather than excluding EVERYONE ELSE.  A Holiday tree would be a symbol of unity and solidarity in our country: "We are one nation under God--no matter who your god is."
Isn't it true that the government represents all, not just one?  All individuals, all practices, all faiths.  Why not have an all-inclusive tree--at a time of common holy days--symbolic of that unity?

Really, anyone can have a Christmas tree--or a Holiday tree, call it what you will--to celebrate the holiday season.  But the next time you put up a Christmas tree in your living room, remember that you are continuing an ancient pagan practice of the Reverence of Life during the hardest, most life-threatening season of the year.  How awe-inspiring is that?

In the meantime, there's the probablility that all of this hullaballoo is the result of another hoax.  Take a look at Holiday Tree Hooey at Factcheck.org

What I learned in school today

In today's anatomy lab, I learned that:

1. Sheep have itty bitty brains.

2. That dogs have brains comparable in size to that of a sheep's, regardless of the dog's size. (I'm actually a little dubious about that one.)

3. That cutting into a sheep's brain with a sharp scalpel is rather like cutting into a large, wet mushroom.

4. And the consistency between your fingers is reminiscent of firm-cooked scallops.

That reminds me, it's dinner time. I'm starved.

Compare...

Looking Within

I recently ran across a post on facebook that really captured my heart.  It was written in German, and I meant to translate it when I had time to post for my friends.  However, I've lost the post and can't find it.  So I will do my best to retell the story in my own words, as it echoes in my own heart.

In the beginning, when the Earth was made and shaped by hands greater and kinder than our own, the gods sat down to discuss the final, most important, aspect of humankind:  Where to put Wisdom.

One god said, "Let's put it on the top of the highest mountain." 

The other gods disagreed.  "It's too dangerous to acquire there by humans physically unfit to make the trek, and too easily knocked off the peak, never to be found by a single one."

Another god said, "Let's put Wisdom at the bottom of the deepest ocean."

Again, the others disagreed.  "It's too easily found there.  Humans will find it before they are ready to understand and assimilate it with love and peace."

After a moment's silence, the quietest god spoke up.  "Let's put Wisdom deep within the soul of each human.  When each is spiritually aware and ready for understanding, they will look within and find it in the depths of their hearts."

The gods all nodded in agreement.  To find Wisdom requires spiritual awareness and quietude.  Quiet your mind, still your heart, and when your intentions are pure, you will find it there, waiting to bless you and those around you with its light and warmth.

To all my friends who have shown their support

The constant support of friends is deeply touching and brings (more) tears to my eyes. My gratitude to all of you is heartfelt and boundless.

I wish I could say that Alex is the only sorrow that catches up with me. It's really a little of everything from the abuses of my ex-husband--now two years past--to frustration over my life and hopeless job and financial situation, to loneliness and unrequited love, to body issues, to school, to Alex... Even the house renovation with its lack of privacy and all the minutiae that go with it.  It's just all caught up to me.

I count my blessings every day, and I'm grateful that, bottom line, I'm lucky I've got a rent-free roof over my head and a family whose support has gotten me through the worst decade of my life (albeit 5,000 miles remotely). But I'm ready for the struggle to be over, now, because climbing out of the muck and mire is as exhausting as plugging through it, and I'm so very tired.

I'm feeling better today, though still emotionally overburdoned. I don't mind when others learn the story about the loss of my son, Alex--or anything else, really--through the grapevine.  In fact, I'm sick to death of explaining to anyone what happened with my son, and I avoid having to do so as much as possible. It's better when people know, but it's easier to not have to explain that my son doesn't live with me and then answer the plethora of questions that inevitably follow. I live with his absence every single day, and reliving his loss through each retelling is another scratching away of the scab of a huge wound that wants desperately to heal.

When I periodically post my pain on facebook, in whichever form that's prevalent at the time, it's not an attention-seeking effort. It's done from the need to express the pain and rid myself of it. The need to get it out becomes greater than the fear that others will think I'm looking for attention.

Thank you, again. My appreciation is greater than I can express. Truly.  Much Love, Joy, and Laughter to all of you!

Cadaver Day

09:30--It's cadaver day in Anatomy Lab.  Our first one, sprung on us with no warning!  Our new prof and two assistants just wheeled in three stainless steel cadaver tanks, and opened them wide.  The smell is phenomenally strong.  I can hardly bear it.  Blech.

12:35--The smell was worse than the sight of the bodies, which in itself was a little…  well, very disconcerting.  There were three cadavers, 1 female, 2 male, each in its own tank.  They were not completely submerged in preservative.  Rather, they lay in a shallow pool of it with towels draped over the body.  The towels absorb the preservative and distribute it across the ventral half of the body. 

The cadavers were not fresh--they seemed to be quite well-aged.  One male seemed to have been so long in service that his skin and linings and innards had turned dark brown.  The female seemed to be the freshest, with bits and globs of flesh still scattered here and there on the lip of the tank, across the towels, and on the blunt probes.  The other male was somewhere in between.

The two males had had their brains removed. Their heads had been sectioned midsagittally so we could see inside the oral and nasal cavities, as well as inside the empty cranium.  One male and the female still had intact eyeballs, though the male's were deflated somewhat, and the female's were still, erm, round and plump.  All had their tongues.  Not all had their teeth.  All were bodies of elderly persons.

Picking up a probe at the female cadaver, I was compelled to wipe it on the towel because I couldn't get past the fact that there were bits of greyish-pink human flesh sticking to it.  I wondered if anyone else in my group noticed the globs.  Three of my lab mates had their hands right in the cadavers, reflecting flaps of skin and touching the various muscles that we were studying today.  I was curious, but I couldn't quite bring myself to touch those bodies.  It was a little overwhelming in my mind, the smell was unbelievable, and I was, frankly, too grossed out.  Everything seemed like very pliable leather.

It was very difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that we were looking at dead human beings, once alive and breathing, now stinking and preserved in a foul, poisonous fluid for students to poke and prod.  The next time I renew my driver's license, I may reconsider my option to donate my body and parts.  Let my body, such as it is, maintain its dignity of form in death. 

I'm having dreams about WHOM???

okay. I'm trying not to be disturbed by this. But. Three ex-husband dreams in five nights. The first where he got squooshed beneath a falling building and Alex came back to me (acceptable). 

The other two where we were back together again. ...He was being nice, and I was sweating it about how long it would be before I once again began hearing how deeply I fail his expectations (not acceptable).

Is this like those college dreams where you haven't been to class all semester and suddenly it's finals? Or the Bristol dreams where you find yourself scurrying for shelter because a tornado is on the horizon? God, I hope not. I hate to think I'm going to be plagued by periodic, college-slash-Bristol-like dreams of the ex-husband. ugh.

The best part of one dream, however, is when the ex held up a pair of tightie whities with a gigantic hole in the seat and asked me where we could find someone to repair it (meaning me to be his seamstress).  I got great satisfaction by saying firmly, "Alfi, I can't repair that.  You'll just have to buy new underwear."

 

Cheeky Kitties

Once upon a time, we had three cats. There was Monty, the Gunslinger; Tigger, the Lover; and Kitty, the Outcast. They were all outdoor cats--owing to my mortal allergy to feline creatures--and they did a fine job of surviving the wilds of unincorporated Elburn for nearly 20 years. Monty and Tigger were expert mousers and kept the area clean of troublesome rodents who otherwise would have wintered in our home and leaving trails of poop in drawers and cabinets for us to find.

When Monty, the oldest and the longest-living, died, the mice came back.

Not only had the mice come back, but so too had the birds and the chipmunks and the squirrels and the rabbits. After a year or two, we had all manner of wildlife traipsing merrily through our backyard. Last fall, an industrious chipmunk that had taken residence under a hedgerow near the house, scurrying back and forth across the patio sussing out nuts and who-knows-what-else to keep him fat and warm through the winter. Skylar, our Maltese, growled viciously at it through the sliding glass door, but that little chipmunk ignored the dog, doggedly determined to fulfill its mission.

For the first time since we'd moved here, the backyard had become a lively sanctuary of happy -go-lucky critters.

A few months ago, our next-door neighbors brought home two young kittens. They're meant to live outdoors during the day, only. Since the local coyote pack has been blamed for the mysterious disappearance of many cats and small dogs in the area, these two furry friends are brought indoors at night. They're fed and cared for by their owners.

One of these cats, the orange Tabby, looks and behaves weirdly like Gunslinger Monty had as a youngster. They other cat, a grey, behaves weirdly like Monty's B-personality brother, Tigger. Both of these cats saunter through our yard, around the barn and the house, trying to sneak in just as Monty and Tigger had. The orange did stealth his way past my dad one day, and had to be flushed out of the basement ceiling. They lounge in our hedges and saunter casually across our 1/2 acre as if they belong here. As if... well, as if they were Monty and Tigger reincarnated.

Can cats reincarnate? If I had to base my answer on the behavior of these two, I would be forced to admit that, Yes, cats do reincarnate because these two--and I would bet a past life on it--are surely our Monty and Tigger in newer, younger bodies.

It's a little disconcerting, to be honest.

As cats will do, they pretty much stay out of trouble around here. And of course, using our place as their hunting ground they also will keep the mice at bay this winter, and that's always a good thing. However, I've noticed a decline in the population of gentle wildlife since they've claimed our space as their own. Once again, there are fewer birds, no more bunnies, and worst of all, no more cute little chipmunk scurrying back and forth across our patio driving Skylar bonkers.

When I inquired after the little critter a while back, Dad told me he'd seen it being chased by Monty II up the Chinese Elm in front of our patio. But that was a good two months ago, and I haven't seen the little guy myself since May. I'm sad to think Monty II & Co have since eaten him, and Chippy is now fertilizing a remote section of our property. Poor li'l Chippy. And I think Skylar misses him, too.

So, while I have nothing against these cats, per se--and I'm grateful that the mouse problem is now taken care of--I am mildly put off by their ease and familiarity as they strut around, as if they've been here before. Like they own the place. And I'm very unhappy that cute little creatures no longer romp in the grass for me to smile at and take delight in.

I don't altogether mind the cats being here, I just wish they'd leave the wildlife alone. Isn't that what kitty kibble is for, anyway? The cheeky things.

WANTED: Full-time employee for small family firm.

DUTIES: Including, but not limited to, general cleaning, cooking, gardening, laundry, ironing and mending, purchasing, bookkeeping and money management. Child care may also be required. HOURS: Av. 55/wk, but standby duty required 24 hrs/day, 7 days/wk. Extra workload on holiday. SALARY AND BENEFITS: No salary, but food, clothing, and shelter provided at employer's discretion; job security and benefits depend on continued goodwill of employer. No vacation. No retirement plan. No opportunities for advancement. REQUIREMENTS: No previous experience necessary, can learn on the job. Only women need apply.

Unger R., & Crawford, M. (1992, p. 446).
Women and gender: A feminist psychology
of women and gender.
New York: John Wiley & Sons.

Reflection on a Rainy Night

I've just finished studying for the night and am taking a moment to pause and reflect on what to do next. But a something has caught my attention. I realize that while I have been focused on my textbook, that something has coaxed me into a state of being I haven't felt in quite some time.

Outside, rain gently falls, keeping subtle time to the quiet music that plays in the background.

Damp, chill air swells through the open window above, caresses my face, cools my skin.

I close my eyes and inhale, taking in the loamy scent of wet earth and the unmistakable aroma of encroaching Autumn.

I sigh.

This weather soothes me, comforts me, envelops me with an insular sense of deep content. The energy of rain and damp and cool stills the restless stirring within, allowing now-rare moments of inspiration to awaken and unfurl.

On a mid-July night when it should be too hot to sleep, this unseasonable weather presents a precious gift of perfect peace and quietude, a nourishment of the earth...

...and of the soul.

A Surefire Way to Brighten Your Day

Someone sent this video to me.
I liked it so much I wanted to share.

Rich Diversity or Impoverished Tolerance? You Be the Judge

Who'da thunk we'd find any of this in Elburn, a psychic fair AND far right attitudes opposing it? There is more than one path to divinity, and it's my own opinion that finding the divine in oneself entails finding the divine in others--with love, tolerance, and understanding, regardless of philosophical differences. Who knows? Maybe to divine IS divine. When such ability is used to aid and heal, who is to say that it isn't a gift from God? Or Goddess? 

There is much stock to be taken from the creed, "An it harm none, do as thou wilt." And I can tell you, my friends, those words of wisdom do not come from Christian philosophy. But this one does, and an equal amount of stock should be taken from it, "Do unto others as thou wilt have others do unto you." That includes not imposing one's views upon others, unbidden and judgmentally. 

With all due respect to my numerous fundamentalist friends, I'm headed to that Elburn psychic fair with my mom, in just a bit. And not to protest. ...Unless it's to oppose narrow-minded, judgmental, moral elitism. But then again, to each his own. Intolerance, get thee behind me.

Psychic fair faces opposition in Elburn

June 25th, 2009, The Elburn Herald

• Letter: Connecting with dead not harmless
• Community center announces open gym
• Letter: Fireworks, celebrations and community character
• Elburn village notes

Filed Under: Elburn

Tags: Denise Vanvliet • Elburn and Countryside Community Center • Gary Augustine • Parents Advocating 4 Kids

Others say ‘A Day With Your Angels’ OK by Martha Quetsch

ELBURN—Some village residents, including a minister, are disturbed about an event that will bring psychics and mediums to the Elburn & Countryside Community Center Saturday, saying its focus is dangerous.

However, Denise Vanvliet, who is organizing the event, said “A Day With Your Angels” will be entirely positive.

“No devil worship, nothing like that,” said Vanvliet, massage therapist and owner of Intuition Institute, a community center business tenant.

“A Day With Your Angels” will be held from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. in the gymnasium of the Community Center, 525 N. Main St. Vendors and exhibitors will include people offering aura readings, palm readings and Reiki mini-sessions to enhance a person’s energy flow, Vanvliet said.

Gary Augustine, pastor of the Evangelical Fellowship Church in Elburn, does not want children who might be at the community center to be exposed to “the dark side of spiritism and the demonic.” He and other church representatives have gathered together for community-wide prayer meetings since hearing about the event, and they will hold one on Friday at 8 p.m. in the Community Center gymnasium to pray for protection against the dangers they believe it will present.

On Saturday, a group of parents will be at the event representing Parents Advocating 4 Kids (PAK) to suggest with signs and literature that the community center where children congregate might not be the best place for a psychic fair, just as you might not want a shark exhibit in a water slide pool for kids, Augustine said.

The children who will be at the Community Center that day include those attending martial arts and dance classes, which are held in other areas of the building, Community Center Board member Jack Hansen said.

Hansen said he does not see anything wrong with allowing the event to take place at the Community Center, since nothing the vendors and exhibitors plan to do is illegal. The Community Center will receive a rental fee for ”A Day With Your Angels” and for the prayer meeting on Friday.

“We welcome both of these kind of events. They bring people to the community center,” Hansen said.

“Day With Your Angels” also will feature clothing and handbag vendors, and Paisano’s pizza.

News Flash on Hot Flashes

Okay, it's not really a news flash, and neither is it a brilliant stroke of genius. And if I'm the only person to have thought of this remedy, then I would be seriously concerned about the state of human intelligence. However, last night as "Whew, I'm hot" turned into "Oh crap, a hot flash" and my great big box fan was doing precious little to provide relief, I suddenly remembered my assortment of ice packs in the freezer. I normally keep them handy for migraines and muscle spasms, but as I prepared for bed last night feeling as if I had suddenly become a drenching wet human furnace, it miraculously occurred to me that those ice packs can serve another purpose: Hot Flash Nipping. Nip your Hot Flash in the bud by taking one ice-solid ice pack and placing it at the crown of your head. Use a headband to hold it in place if you have to. Then place a second ice pack at your C1, the hollow where your skull and your neck join. Hold in place (shifting position of pack at neck as needed) until pack softens and is body temperature. Guaranteed relief within 5 minutes. Or by the time ice pack melts. Whichever comes first.

US Boy Says He Wants to Stay in Brazil--I hope it works out better for this father than it did for me!

Nothing is worse than your own child rejecting you in favor of another person. I know this. The worst part is what the child is going through, and being helpless as a parent to make it better. It's excruciatingly unfair to have to place your parenthood on trial, to let strangers in a foreign country decide whether or not your own stolen child should be returned to you. It makes me sick.

This man's story is my own.

What the hell is wrong with people???


By MARCO SIBAJA, Associated Press Writer Marco Sibaja, Associated Press Writer – Thu Jun 18, 5:18 am ET

BRASILIA, Brazil – A 9-year-old boy at the center of an international custody battle told a psychologist he wants to stay with his stepfamily in Brazil rather than return to the U.S. with his biological father, according to a transcript of the interview.

In the transcript, released by the Brazilian family's lawyers on Wednesday, Sean Goldman tells the psychologist that if he is sent back to New Jersey to be with David Goldman he will "break down totally."

"I want to stay here in Brazil," the 9-year-old repeats in the interview.

The interview with Sean Goldman was conducted Monday by psychologist Terezinha Feres-Carneiro in a Rio de Janeiro hospital. It wasn't immediately clear who paid for the psychologist's services.

When asked to draw a picture of his family, the boy drew only his stepfather, sister and Brazilian grandparents.

The transcript's release follows comments last week by David Goldman that a hearing in Brazil had made public an issue that he said he had been legally barred from discussion previously: "The psychological damage that has been inflicted on my son is finally out in the open."

"There's no words to describe the anxiety and the pain that I feel from that," he said.

Goldman's lawyer told the judges about reports by three court-appointed psychologists who found Sean was suffering.

Calls to David Goldman and his lawyer late Wednesday were not immediately returned.

In 2004, Sean's mother, Bruna Bianchi, took him for a two-week vacation to her native Brazil and never returned. She divorced David Goldman in Brazil and married Rio de Janeiro lawyer Joao Paulo Lins e Silva.

She died last year, and a Rio state court granted Lins e Silva temporary custody of Sean.

A lower court in Brazil later ruled that Sean Goldman be returned to the U.S., but that decision was suspended after a petition was filed arguing that removing Sean from his current family environment would hurt the boy.

Last week, Brazil's Supreme Court rebuffed the petition, instead ruling the decision on the boy's fate must be made by a federal court.

At Rainbow's End

This morning, the sun shone through my north-east window, causing a rainbow to appear on one of my walls. It arced down and ended right at Alex's baby picture, taken when he was just a few weeks old, that sits atop my bookcase.

Since there is nothing hanging in the window to cause a rainbow, and because I'd never seen a rainbow appear in my bedroom before, I thought it was pretty remarkable. I took several pictures and pulled Mom out of bed to come see... And just before she walked in, my gaze landed on an object that lay in the sunlight. The sun was refracting off a dusty, upturned DVD.

I have to admit, I was disappointed. I had hoped it was a message from one of my grandparents, perhaps, letting me know all was well with them and my son, but I couldn't deny the obvious mundane source of my rainbow.

It was still pretty, though, and what a lovely symbol it made with Alex at its end!

Translation!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 at 11:43am

I asked Alex's lawyer to translate the card from Greek to English. In short, this is what it reads:

I took
the M from Honey,
the T from Song,
the H from Hope,
the R from Rose,
the A from Love
and I made the word
Mother.

It was really nice to get a card from him... Now that the shock has worn off, I'm smiling about it. I've written him a Thank You card, already!

<3 <3 <3

How Do You Spell "Happy Mother's Day" in Greek?

Monday, May 18, 2009 at 6:55pm

Mother's Day this year, as last year, and the year before that, was spent without much fanfare or even recognition.

But, today, I received a letter from my 9-year-old son, sent from Greece, where he lives with his father. Inside the envelope was a hand-made Mother's Day card, no doubt created in school at the table where Alex sits with three other students.

I wonder what went on in his head as he made that card, so diligently copying down the text from the whiteboard, so carefully coloring the illustration? Was he thinking of giving the card to his Oma, my ex-mother-in-law, whom, in my presence, my son had often referred to as "mother"? Was he perhaps sad that he couldn't give this card to his real mother, because he had been brainwashed into believing he didn't want to have anything to do with me? Did he, for one single moment, wish he could celebrate Mother's Day like the rest of his classmates? Or even just to go home at the end of the day, knowing Mommy was there waiting for him with a smile on her face and a bear hug in her arms, meant for him and no one else?

Does he miss me? Does he love me? Why is his father suddenly encouraging (seemingly) Alex's contact with me and his grandparents?

I don't know. But today, I received a letter from my son, and inside the envelope was a hand-made Mother's Day card. When I opened it, so many questions formed in my mind.

Not the least of which was, "What does this say?"

It was written in Greek.

Rest in Peace, Grandma

The call came and mom walked in on my while I was undressing to give me the news. My dad is doing well, though I noticed his hands were uncharacteristically cold and clammy when I hugged him while he was making phone calls last night. I was sad. I cried. But mostly I felt... relieved for her. She's happy with Grandpa, now, and the rest of her family and friends.

There will be no Chicago service for my grandmother. She'd asked to see everyone on Mother's Day, so we all came. Aside from the immediate family, there's no one left who has survived her.

She'll be cremated, then Dad and Karyn will go to Clearwater, Florida, to hold a service in her community there. She and Grandpa had lived there since 1977 or so. In 1994, Grandpa died, and Grandma stayed on. Then in 2004 or 2005, Dad and Karyn moved Grandma back up to Chicago to keep her near. When they take her ashes back to Florida, she'll be interred beside Grandpa.

My beautiful, gentle Grandma, with the blue eyes and pink lips, a love for music and dance, who walked with grace in a scented aura of face powder and perfume, and religiously ate chocolate chip cookies and milk at night before bed.

I love you.

Some wishes do come true

Thursday, May 7, 2009 at 9:04pm

It's my mom's 63rd birthday today. I was busy this afternoon getting her stuff ready for later on: Found a cake, flowers, balloons, putting the finishing touches on a necklace I made for her using her favorite color combination and wrapping it, writing out her card.

Most importantly, she received a happy birthday phone call this morning from my Alex, her estranged grandson, at the behest of his father. I think that's what made her day, that phone call. She even got a clear and certain "I love you" out of it.

I know she's felt utterly betrayed by Alex and his father. She'd bent over backwards to give Alfi financial and emotional support. She adored (still does) Alex in her quiet, unassuming way, took him to movies, drew with him, read with him, did her best to ease the pain of divorce in his so-tender little-boy heart. And Alex loved her very much, in return.

Though it's clear that Alfi is behind the words Alex has uttered against his grandparents, the pain and sense of betrayal is very real, and no less than my own. Walking through my own pain, I sometimes lose sight of my mother's. That phone call--that I Love You--gave her a much-needed and well-deserved sense of validation, much more than any card, cake, flowers, or handmade gift ever could.

Happy Birthday, Mom! I Love You, too!

My new Deluxe Computer Cart from WalMart

Tuesday, April 14, 2009 at 9:07pm

I'm actually quite excited about this new acquisition. Now I don't have to sit on my bed (or the floor), cross-legged and wreaking havoc on my lower back and knees. I found this neat thing at WalMart, only $29.95. How could I resist?

Karyn, I'm posting this for you...

DeLuxe Computer Cart from WalMart
April 2009

My space
April 2009

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Sunday, April 5, 2009 at 6:49am

We had our own personal rainbow last Tuesday after heavy rain and thunder and gloom all day long.

After a crazy rainy day, we had a rainbow!
Tuesday March 31, 2009

It snowed last night!

Sunday, March 29, 2009 at 9:48am

Pic of our late-March snowstorm. Very pretty, but I hope I can get out of the garage later on!

the backyard as viewed from the kitchen. Winter 2009

Long story short--a brief history of events over Thanksgiving holiday.

In November, just a week before my planned vacation with Davy in England over the Thanksgiving holiday, I received a phone call from my son in Greece.  I was naked in a dressing room, trying on a new bra. 

As it happens, my ex-husband had been apprehended and was in custody in a Greek jail in Alexandroupoli. I'd been told by Authorities from the American Consulate in Thessaloniki and the American Embassy in Athens that I should get on a plane immediately and pick up my son. They would bring him to Thessaloniki, where I would pick up an emergency US passport for him, and we could come back home together.

So that night, I began my preparations. Not knowing whether I would make it to England as planned, I stopped over in London to meet Davy for the very first time at Heathrow. Enjoying my time with him, I was a little casual about getting through security on time. I actually didn't know that I had to be through security by a certain length of time before the gate opened. So, I missed my plane to Athens. Davy helped me change my flight to a later time, retrieve my luggage and check it back in again. Then, he hung around and we talked and drank tea together until it was time for me to go. We said goodbye, and I gave Davy my bottle of Starbucks Frappuccino to hold on to until we met again.

When I left London for Athens, I was seated beside a man from Beirut. He was around my age, and called himself Charlie. He'd been living in London for a good 20 years or so, and had just broken up with his long-time girlfriend. We talked and laughed (he was good-looking, too. Very casually dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt with stylish sneakers with squared toes), drank wine together...  He wanted to give me his phone number. He wanted me to come with him back home to Beirut for a bit. Extremely flattered that a guy like that would even pretend to be so interested in me--his motives were irrelevant--I said no, no, no. Thanks for all your flattery, but no. But he still tried to convince me, for whatever reasons he had on his agenda. He was very persistent.

Our plane was late to land in Athens, and I had to run like crazy to catch the next one to Thessaloniki, my final destination. He ran with me and helped to get me to where I needed to be. At the security checkpoint, I gave him a hug and kissed him quickly on the cheek in thanks. He turned his head and tried to kiss me again on the lips, but I turned away, accepting his phone number instead. "If you need anything, just call me. I'll come find you," he said. He dictated the number to me, but I didn't save it. I deliberately snapped my phone shut before hitting the save button and waved a hasty goodbye.

Around midnight Monday morning, I finally made it to Thessaloniki and into my hotel room . I'd been travelling since Saturday afternoon and wide awake since 5 am the Friday before.

Monday afternoon, I was told by my Consulate contact that I had to go to Alexandroupoli to pick up Alex, and that I should do it the very next day. I was also told that my ex-mother-in-law was suing me for custody of my own son, and that I needed to find a lawyer.

After 8 days of hell in the town of Alexandroupoli (I was in Greece 10 days altogether), the female judge was unable to reach a decision.  Because of Alfi's pigheaded vindictiveness, I came to the realization that if I didn't leave Alex there, none of us--not me, not my parents, not my family and friends, and most importantly, not Alex--would live in peace for years to come, or perhaps never.  So, during a bizarre outburst amongst Alex, my parents on the phone, and the Oma, I made my decision.  At 5:30 that afternoon, while tempers were still raging, I did something I'd always wanted to do.  In English, I vented all my feelings about my mother-in-law to her face, then told her to fuck off.  

One last time, I asked Alex if staying in Greece with his father and the Oma was really what he wanted.  

"Yes," he said.  

"Even if it means you might never see me again?" 

"Yes," he said, again.

Heartbroken, I nodded.  Making sure he remembered my maiden name, and that he had my parents' phone number, and mine, I gave Alex one last hug and kiss, and exited the apartment with bags in hand.  

But not before I swiped my son's American and German passports, which the Oma had so carelessly and arrogantly left on the coffee table during my stay.  If my ex husband and mother-in-law meant to keep Alex, I wasn't going to make it easy for them to travel and hide, again.  At least for a little while.

It was 5:30 in the afternoon when I left Alex at the Oma's apartment, and night had already fallen.  On foot, I navigated the dark side streets toward the nearest bus depot. As I walked, I called Davy and asked him to meet me in Newcastle the next day.

By 6:15, I was on a bus headed back to Thessaloniki, 4.5 hours away. I'd taken two Xanax at once, just to get through the trip without losing my shit in front of all those people, but still, I couldn't quell the tears.

Twenty-seven hours and three planes later, I landed at Newcastle, on the northeastern coast of England, where Davy greeted me with open arms.  I did not want to return home.  I did not want to reenter the real world.  I was in pain;  I'd just lost my son.  I needed to heal.  The remaining days of my vacation were spent in with Davy in a cottage at Seahouses.  

That bottle of Starbuck's Frappuccino was waiting for me when I arrived.  I saved that bottle until the morning I departed for Chicago, just a few days later.  In the meantime, I had a lovely, relaxing visit on the coast within walking distance of Bamburgh Castle.  Davy and I strolled along the coast, picked seashells, visited pubs, enjoyed scampi and fish and chips, and did a little sightseeing.  Davy was the perfect host, his presence sweet and comforting, and parting was bittersweet.

Returning home was necessary, and it took me a few weeks to recover and reintegrate.  I will never forget Alex and "the Oma" prancing out of the courtroom, their arms around each other, smiling, passing by me without a single glance from my son, after the judge had announced that Alex could return to his Oma's house, with or without me.  That sense of loss and desolation, a mortal wound to my heart and soul, will never leave...  

I've lost a son but gained a friend. I will never forget the heart-wrenching pain of that Thanksgiving holiday.