Sitting in a hospital room

Today reminds of early morning flight times, of sitting in a plane on the runway at the airport...

Clear, winter-morning sky an expanse through the window.
Tinny television volume, and thick white noise of the ventilation system muffling ambient sounds.
That peculiar insular feeling, solitary in my own little capsule of hope and excitement.

The expectancy of travel, forward movement, and new vistas hang heavy in the air.

RECAP: Things I will do when I am single, again (and new things to do, now that I am!)

Recently, I ran across this old post from April 2007--nearly four years ago--on a defunct blog page. Now that I've been single for nearly that long, and divorced for 2.5 years, let's see how much of this I've accomplished, so far...

1. I will read, study, write, watch, listen to, buy and do anything I want, anytime I want, and leave it all out in the open and not hide it for fear of recrimination or fear of having it thrown away, or having to answer for myself to an ignorant clod of a husband who has no tolerance for the parts of me that make me different from him. Including my gender. In short, I will be nothing less than MYSELF.
CHECK!

2. I will leave the bed unmade. Always. Except for when I'm expecting company.
CHECK! And sometimes I leave the bed unmade, even when I do have company.

3. I will no longer fear that, when the telephone rings, the person on the other end might be my mother-in-law.
Oh, zippedee-do-dah, CHECK! Though now, when the phone rings and the number is unrecognizable, I tend to worry that it's a bill collector. But at least it isn't the wicked chicken hawk of Middle Europe.

4. On weekdays, I will leave the breakfast dishes in the sink until after I get home and dinner has been eaten.Well, SORT-OF. Living with mom and dad pretty much precludes treating the house as if it were my own. Except when they go out of town. In which case, yes, I leave the morning dishes in the sink to worry about after work and after dinner.

5. I will burn incense and leave fragrant candles and sachets all over the place, and I won't have to smell the stink of metabolized alcohol anymore.Again, SORT-OF. No stink of metabolized alcohol haunts my olfactory nerves, anymore. But Dad prohibits the use of candles and incense. When I think back, there was no issue against burning candles in our house when I was married. Rather, it was the scent that the ex was bitchy about. So, while I can't burn candles in my parents' house, I can scent my room as I wish. Burning candles at will, will happen when I'm out on my own... And that's another to-do list, entirely.

6. I'll go to bed any damn time I want and not have to wait until hubby leaves for work late at night so I can chain the door at his insistence (even tho I've told him that one good kick by anyone who wants to get in would rip the chain right out of the jamb, which makes it pretty much useless).CHECK!

7. And on that note, I will chain the door during the day if I feel like it, even tho he won't let me chain the door when he's home. (figure that one out)
CHECK. The doors around here are locked 24-7, anyway. This one's pretty much a non-issue.

8. I will sleep with the windows open.
CHECK, CHECK, CHECK!!!

9. I will sleep with my bedroom door closed.
Oh, CHECK! And I can even lock it, if I want to. Ah, bliss...

10. I will live in peace in my own home.
CHECK. Yes, I live in peace, but in my parents' home, as I've already mentioned. Since the family moved here when I was only 17, I definitely consider it my home, if not independent living.

11. Once more, I will be MYSELF.
INDEED.


In all, I would have to say that I've accomplished my goals. And as these ideals have been met, I've been creating a new list of things I will do when I'm finally independent.

1. I'd like to own a house. Or, for the sake of convenience, a townhouse. I will burn candles with abandon, yummy-scented ones.

2. I'll burn incense, too, on occasion. There are a few varieties I really like, but incense in general tends to leave a pervasive funky odor behind that doesn't appeal to me.

3. I'll leave my purse, shoes, jacket and keys wherever I please. I'd really like to be able to set my keys down on a hall bench or a table, or a kitchen counter near the door. My shoes, too. I want to be able to say, THIS is where my keys go, my purse goes, my shoes and jacket. I'm tired of storing everything in my one bedroom, and having no other place in the house to claim as my own.

4. Providing there's space, at my own discretion, I will leave oft-used toiletry articles on the bathroom counter. Perfume, for instance. Hand lotion. Face moisturizer. Things I easily forget to use unless they are right there in front of me, as I'm getting ready for work. Or for my boyfriend. Or for bed.

5. I'd like to walk around my place in just my t-shirt. Or naked from the bathroom to my bedroom or in just a towel.

6. I'd like to wake up in the morning with my boyfriend at my side, then make breakfast for him. I suppose this can be done now, providing he's able to stay the entire night, but this is something I'd rather keep private, between me and my S.O. Not something I'd like to share with my parents in the morning.

7. My space will be my own. I will walk from room to room, knowing each space is mine, and I will place things as I wish.


When I compare the two lists, I see the first is all about expressing myself, being who I am, and being allowed to explore myself and my opportunities.

The second list seems to be about privacy and territory issues. While I love my parents and don't mind living with them, it's still not my space. The only area I have as my own is my room, where everything I own is stored. I can't leave my book in the living room, or my keys or purse on the counter, or my shoes by the door. I can't leave oft-used mundane items on the bathroom counter, or a cup in the sink. I can't have my espresso machine on the counter, or a shelf in the cabinet, but a single drawer in the fridge for my own. I can't complain, but...

While I live in peace now, and am happy, and am at liberty to be myself, I still need my own space. I'm not quite an adult, yet, but that, too, will come in time. Perhaps in four years, I'll revisit this new list and smile, because these things will have long been accomplished... And then realize I have a new list of goals and desires to share.

Life's simplest pursuits lead to one's greatest joys.

Oh, Noes! I'm so not ready!

I just realized that it's the first day of NaNoWriMo, and I'm completely unprepared for the challenge.
Crap.  I'd better get started.

First, I have to refresh my hair color and take a shower.  Then I've got to run to the post office.  And after that...

Synchronicity: It's Exactly What you Think

Synchronicity as defined by Carl Jung:
Coincidences which are more than chance, less than causality. 

Metaphysical view of coincdences: 
There are no coincidences.

I had an interesting experience, today.  As usual, I was slow getting out of the house to take care of things I needed to take care of.  It was well after 13:00 before I made my way to my first destination, the local community college, where I had to drop off some papers needed for my nursing program application.  It was a very quick trip, probably less than 5 minutes from parking lot to Records and Registration and back to car again.  But my mind and heart have been troubled, today, and when I returned to my car and turned it on, I found myself just sitting there, staring into my lap.  I may have been thinking about the source of my distraction, or I may have been simply contemplating the depth of my navel.  Or, I simply may have been waiting with a completely empty mind for the air conditioner to cool down the car .  I don't rightly recall.  But a few minutes later, I looked up and into my rear view mirror just in time to see a familiar head cross the field of view behind me. 

It was Connie, my CNA instructor from last semester with whom I had forged a bond.  It's been six months or more since I've spoken to her and I've probably thought about dropping her an e-mail (something I've become embarrassingly lax about, across the board) at least once a day for the last few weeks.  I couldn't believe my luck.  I jumped out of the car, quick as a bunny, and bounced after her, calling her name.

It was a quick reunion.  She was on her way to a meeting, and judging by her pace she may have been running late.  I walked with her to the building I had just left, and we said our goodbyes in the foyer. 

Returning to my car, I considered the amazing synchronicity of our meeting.  She's been on my mind nearly every day for weeks.  She teaches at the Copley campus and her office is located there;  she happened to be at Sugar Grove for a meeting.  I was slow getting out of the house and spontaneously stopped for a hamburger to munch for lunch during the drive to school.  My errand was quick, but I uncustomarily spaced out in my car for a few minutes before looking into my rear view without conscious intent to see Connie walking briskly behind me.  If I had been a minute earlier or later, if I hadn't stopped for that hamburger (plain hamburger, no onions, please), if she hadn't been running late, we would have missed each other, completely.

They say the power of thought is all-powerful.  What you think is what you manifest in your life.  I suspect Carl Jung was really on to something with respect to the Collective Unconscious and synchronicity, and it blends very well with my steadfast metaphysical view that there is no such thing as coincidence.  If I ever needed any proof that any of these theories hold water, yesterday gave me that proof 100 percent.

Carl Jung's Synchronicity

Those little peckers!

Several birds just tried to get in through my window.

They didn't slam into it, as if wanting to pass thru. Nope. They hovered, pecking at the glass.

First one, then two, then four at once.

What were they thinking? 


 "Hmm, I'll bet there are some tasty worms and berries in there to stock up on for the flight south, Eugene. I already tried to get in there once, but something invisible and solid is blocking the way.  We'll have to get reinforcements.  Fred?  Mabel?  You guys in with us?"

Odd. 

Alex, Harry Potter, and Tortellini a la Deutschland

In spite of the raging headache, I'm feeling pretty darned good. My heart's where I like it to be, and I even got to speak with my son. My favorite part of our increasingly pleasant conversations is when he says, "Can I ask you something?" Today's question was about the Harry Potter books.

 

He and his father have returned to Germany this month, where they will permanently reside.  I'm glad they're back in Stuttgart.  While I don't waste my altruism on him, personally, I wish the ex well only for the benefit of taking decent care of my son.  That's all.

 

In the meantime, my lovely boy is back in Stuttgart where he will have a better advantage academically than he would in Kavala, Greece.  Even after only a few short weeks, his accent now sounds more like his old self than it has the last two years he's been speaking Greek.  That's a bit of a relief to me.  He sounds less a stranger than only one month ago.

 

He's begun reading the Harry Potter series, beginning with the seventh and last book.  His reasoning:  He'd already seen the movies and knows the story up to that point.  I asked him if he would like me to send him the rest of the books in English.  He said yes...  

 

As we (he) talked about The Deathly Hallows, I was deeply struck--and touched--by this effort on his part to reach out to me.  Among other things, the Harry Potter stories and films were a strong point of bonding between me and Alex, before we returned to the US and all hell broke loose.  We'd watched the first three films over and over on DVD (in English!), and I had read to him the first six books.  For years, we even played the EA Sports computer game based on the second film, until he and I had finally replaced it with another computer game called Fate, in 2005. So, it was lovely to be able to restore that aspect of our connection.  And it was his own decision.  Part of that discussion involved the fact that he had recently gotten a library card, and that was his book of choice.  "I can keep it for a whole month!" he'd said.  

 

The library was a new bond he and I had created, in the months before his abduction.  You can read about it two posts back, or so.  So, that connection had also been restored.  

 

He had also asked me what I was doing, that very moment as we spoke.  "I'm making lunch," I said.

 

"What are you making?"

 

"Chicken barbecue sandwich.  What did you have for dinner tonight?" I responded.

 

"Tortellini," he said.

 

"Mmm.  Tortellini, my favorite.  No one does tortellini as tasty as Germany does.  I sure wish I could get it over here.  Do you think you can send me some?"

 

He laughed.  "No... It would probably get icky."

 

Tortellini and pizza take-away night was also a special event in our family.  We all looked forward to it wish relish, and indulged in our Saturday night fare with abandon.  Seriously, the tortellini and cheese sauce we had in Germany simply cannot be seconded, anywhere.  I have tried and tried to find an equally tasty replacement, but nothing I've yet come across can quite compare. 

 

And the pizza was pretty damned good, too.

 

Our favorite take-away place was Pizza Phone.  I wouldn't be surprised if that's where they'd gotten dinner, tonight.

Tortellini night was the one time during the week when we mostly got along well as a family.  Not always, but mostly.  While it shouldn't be mistaken that I miss my ex at all, I do miss the family-ness of tortellini night, the excitement, the one time we all sat down together with a sense of unity and joy.

 

But that sense of love and unity can be recreated with others, in different ways.  Mostly, I just miss the tortellini.  

And my wonderful, brilliant, wise son.

 

Solitudestr. 64, 70499 Stuttgart

Words of Wisdom from Lao Tzu

Be careful what you water your dreams with.

Water them with worry and fear
and you will produce weeds that choke the life from your dream... 

Water them with optimism and solutions
and you will cultivate success.

Always be on the lookout
for ways
to turn a problem into an opportunity for success.

Always be on the lookout
for ways
to nurture your dream.

--Lao Tzu

 

A trip to the library

Went to the library this morning to look for The Fiery Cross, Diana Gabaldon's fourth book in the Outlander series.  I'd read the first three right before I got married, then read them through at least twice more while still living in Germany.  By the time book four came out in 2001, purchasing English-language books was still pricey, as we hadn't gone online yet, and I didn't have access to Amazon.co.uk.  So, I lost track of the series, altogether.  Now there are six books in the series, if I'm not mistaken, so I decided to get a leg up and break away from the likes of Stephen King.  I'm in need of a little unadulterated romance in my life, and a good time-travel book seems in order. 

I had to look for my library card.  It's been years since I'd used it and wasn't sure where it might be.  In fact, the last time I was at the library at all was with Alex, fostering his love of a good story and the written word.  When I found the card nestled in the pocket of an unused wallet (a relic from Germany and a former life) that had been shoved to the back of my desk, tucked behind the last school picture I owned of my son, I noticed that it not only had to be renewed, but that my married name (naturally) was on it.  Seeing that surname connected to my own still gives me a pang of discomfort.  As well, it felt bittersweet to return to the library--but without my energetic little boy in tow, who so clearly loved to visit and had so many interesting books to choose from.

When I found what I wanted (and then some!), I checked out.  The librarian surprised me with an overdue fine from July 2007.  I believe that was day I'd first taken Alex to the library and gotten each of us a library card.  For all subsequent visits, Alex had checked out his own books.  The fee was for 1.25, which sadly enough, I did not have on hand!  When I asked for the title of the book, the librarian gave me a puzzled little frown.

"Harry's Horrible Secret," she said.  "It's a children's book.  Does that sound right to you?"

"Yes," I said, the loss squeezing my heart.  "It was for my son."

"Well," she responded after a moment's consideration.  "I'll forgive it for you.  That was three years ago and it's only $1.25."

Three years ago.  Can you imagine?  I was two months separated, still delirious about having finally escaped my ex-husband's insanity.  Well, not entirely escaped, but certainly no longer immersed in it.  So full of hope and exhilaration and freedom, pleased as punch that I had removed my son from Alfi's constant influence to give him a sense of normalcy and calm and quietude, after a day at school and a few hours of his father's chaos until I picked him up after work.

The best laid plans of mice and men, often go awry...

Oh, the irony of it all.

ღ  ღ  ღ

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.