7 days. 2 sunsets viewed along winding southern roads. 20 hours behind the wheel. 17 hours of Pearl Jam. That was my Christmas, and I loved just about every minute of it. It was a bit different, mostly in good ways. I did not decorate the house. I decided to forgo my annual reminiscing over my collection of ornaments and the memories I've attached to them. I consolidated my shopping list. I did not agonize over finding the right gift for a significant other. I did last minute shopping with my sister and giggled with my nephews. I ran Lake Hollingsworth on Christmas Eve. I helped my grandmother cook dinner. I read books to my cousins' children. I took a much needed road trip to visit family in South Carolina and thoroughly enjoyed my southern roots there. I read a self-help book. And then there was the Pearl Jam. It was delightful. Now I'm gearing up for what will be a very different New Year's celebration and cannot wait to see how that will unfold. I truly believe that

If you can't read the stars, you'd better have a map, a compass and a conscience so you don't get lost at sea around some lonely island no one wants to be. From the beginning of creation, I think our Maker had a plan for us to leave these shores and sail beyond the sand. A friend of mine played this song for me this morning, and it spoke to my soul in a way that I didn't know I needed. I've been feeling that "stuck in a moment" feeling lately that has me vacillating between the life extremes of safety and adventure and desperately afraid that my form of compromise will be one of monotony. (I fear little in life more than monotony.) This is not a new struggle. In fact, it's been part of me for as long as I can remember. Something deep within me is compelled to explore and experience and cram my mind with as many memories as possible. I've suppressed it well for most of my life, but when the soul calls and aches, you can ignore it for only so long. I

Is it just me, or does life seem to seep out in pieces? Even when we seem to be blindsided by news or events, they still often crept up on us in a slow, steady pattern. (The surprise, I think, is usually the result of our own blissful ignorance.) It's a bit surprising to me what can happen when you have way too much spare time and take up a running habit. Perhaps none of you are as surprised as I was this week when it finally dawned on me that I am finally near the end of a fourteen-year weight loss journey. Twenty-five pounds to go. 25 pounds. Fifty-three pounds ago, this moment seemed so far away. I used to resent seeing articles in magazines talking about the last 25 or 10 pounds. I could never seem to get there, no matter how many carbs I cut or hours I spent on the elliptical. This time, without even realizing how my body has been changing and eating a steady diet of convenience food (Boca Burgers are the most amazing product ever created!), the pounds have seemed to almost ru

It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon here in southwest Florida, although still a bit too warm for my November tastes. I'm learning to enjoy my weekends with as much unstructured and unscheduled time as possible. Last Saturday was a delightful unstructured day. A new friend of mine (the one from the Everglades excursion) and I went to a local carnival. Now, here's the thing...I LOVE carnivals. The food. The people. The rides. The lights. I can easily spend an entire day wandering through the crowds. He's no carnival slouch. The first thing we did was walk through the entire place, scoping out the rides. Then the fun began. We rode almost every ride there (except for the kiddie attractions and the broken Tornado). The Wild Claw. The Scrambler. The Orbiter. The Space Oddysey. The Swings. The Pharaoh's Fury. The Ferris Wheel. The Giant Slide. The Haunted House. The Avalanche. It was all good. How can you top a ride that uses centrifugal force to plaster your body against

I'm feeling an intense ache today. It's deep within, and the best way I can describe it is like the way it feels to eat just a tiny amount of food when you have been so famished you didn't even realize you were hungry. Yep. I think that's it. I spent eleven hours yesterday with one of the most interesting people I've ever met. We hopped in an old Jeep without doors and cruised down US41 with plans to go to a shooting range. After missing our turn and ending up halfway to Miami, we did some Old Florida touristy things like visit the Florida Skunk Ape Museum (where I got to hold a 60 pound albino python). Eventually, we found the shooting range, and I was able to prove that I'm not a bad shot. (I was actually told that I was a natural with a gun.) Later, he made dinner for me that consisted of fish and lobster he caught himself. It was absolutely delicious. I'm impressed. I hope he feels the same way. If I've learned anything from dating, I've learned

I went to my favorite yoga class this morning. If you're ever in southwest Florida you should stop by to see this place. It's a bit Dharma-esque in both the setting and nature of the people who visit, and it's certainly worth the time just to explore the grounds. I like it. During the meditation portion of the class, I pray. Today--sitting in the rays of the morning sun, listening to the leaves rustle in the wind--I was overcome with gratitude. You know the kind of gratitude that rises from your belly and washes over your body? That's it. I am daily amazed at the wonders around me. A body that has pushed and prodded through races and intense yoga classes. A job that gives me the opportunity to give back to a community. A bevy of friends who make me laugh. A dog that greets me each day like I'm the greatest person on the planet. A family who loves me. A world of opportunity, if I'm willing to accept it. I feel so blessed. All I could do this morning was thank my

I finally made it to the running store this weekend and walked out with a new pair of running shoes designed to correct my supination, a water bottle belt, sample tubes of glucose gel, stuff to prevent blisters on my feet, and a running-themed car magnet. I feel like a real runner now...it was the magnet that did it! Running and I have had a love-hate relationship lately, and I won't bore you with all the details. The thought of running more than 4 miles right now is a bit overwhelming, mostly because I'm desperately afraid of boredom. You see, I really can't listen to music when I run. It bores me. I can't read when I run (that's only possible on a treadmill anyway). My mind is so crammed these days that it can't even begin to unwind. Yet, I love the way my body is changing. I can finally feel the bones in my hips again. My rear is lifting before my very eyes. My knees are starting to get a knobby look to them that I see only on runners. You should see my legs.

One of the more interesting parts of dating in my thirties has been the ex-files. At this stage in life, it's inevitable that my date and I both have stories of dates (and partners) past. These stories seep out over time, and you know I'm a sucker for the story about anyone's life. I like to listen to them. After hearing about "the one who got away" and "the one who never left" and "the one who called six times in a row at two in the morning crying," I wondered about my story. What does my "ex-file" say about me? I can't even answer that question because it's entirely framed in the perspective of the other person. Like everyone else, I like to think that my exes remember me as a beautiful, generous, and fun woman. Yet, I know there's a possibility that they frame me in the light of my flaws. Sometimes I wish I could be in the room listening to the new woman as she hears the story of "this woman I dated". None of

The wee hours of the morning are my favorite time of day. The world is still and filled with a subtle sense of promise just before the new day unfolds. I've savored this precious time across the country and never seem to get enough of it. But I like this time on my own terms. This morning I was wide awake at 4:00. I looked at the clock, closed my eyes, and tried to drift back into what slumber I could still get in the next hour. No such luck! Instead, I crawled out of bed and went out to my porch to enjoy what I could. This wouldn't be such a big deal to me, but I haven't slept in 3 days. I've been waking every hour, and nothing is worse than opening your eyes just to see 1:00...2:13...3:07...4:42. I'm not a big fan of sleep, but I do like to get at least 4 or 5 straight hours of shut-eye. I'm coasting through my day on energy fumes! Anyway, if I've learned anything in my time on this earth, I know to listen to my body. Something's up in my world. I don&

Since the writer in me has re-emerged, I thought it only fitting to get off my butt and do something with it. So I joined a local writers group that meets on Tuesdays. I RSVPed for tonight's meeting and cranked out an essay about saying good-bye. With my wares in hand, I drove to the meeting. And drove. And drove. And drove. Why do buildings not put their address number on the outside? Will I ever learn to get directions BEFORE I leave the house? I never found the coffeeshop. I suppose tonight wasn't supposed to be my night. It's a good essay. Really good. I read it to a friend tonight over the phone. She loved the essay, but was surprised to hear that I was so willing to share such a personal story with strangers. I guess she hasn't read my blog. I can't imagine NOT sharing personal informaton with strangers. Since I didn't get to do it in the glory of a coffeeshop, I'll share a little bit here with my friends in cyberland. So grab a cup of your favorite ho

Ok, so once again I'm running behind on my to-do list. I recently started reading Randy Alcorn's new book, If God is Good and was supposed to post a review last week. So here goes. As the title says, this book takes a look at the question, "if God is good, then why is there evil in the world?" It has some interesting answers. Most were not new to me, but some were interesting. I had never before heard of the "open theist" view that asserts that evil is in the world because God has limited knowledge of how humans will use what is given to us. Alcorn presents the case against this view very clearly. I like the question and answer format because it allows you to peruse the topics at your leisure. All in all, it looks like a decent book that serious tackles the issue at hand.

I feel like I should explain a bit about the crazy busy-ness of my life these days. Someone asked me last week how it was possible to be a single woman without children and never seem to have available time. I have no real answer for that question. This fullness has been exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time. I've found comraderie that I never had in my marriage and have enjoyed the freedom to plan my time as I see fit. That means that I don't have to consider anyone else's interests or feelings. I've been busy sucking up this marrow in my life. I'll be honest. I'm not sure what I've been doing lately is interesting enough to other people to warrant a post here. Do you really want to hear about my classroom? Or dates? Or my daily naps in the early evening? Or the night I sat in front of the turned off t.v. and stared while my thoughts ran rampant? Somewhere in the thoughts swarming in my head, I lost track of something I really wanted to share. I

I'm a relatively practical person when it comes to interactions with other people. I don't know if that is just the result of my life experiences or my interest in psychology. Not that that matters, of course. What does matter is that I boil things down to a few simple equations. human+human=sticky situations human drama+me=I'm outta here I've learned, often the hard way, that I don't need extra complications in my life. There are enough there already. What I don't understand is why people feel the need to let the drama brew and fester and turn into an emotional infection that leaves scar tissue in its wake. Take, for instance, what I recently said to someone about my view of human relationships. In a perfect world, I like some qualities in another person and would like to have them as part of my life. If they feel the same way about me, great. If not, that's great, too, because I only want to be surrounded by people who also want to surround me. I guess thi

A few weeks ago I spent some time in one of the most interesting, uncomfortable conversations of my life. I have never before talked with someone who probed as deeply as this man did into the far recesses of my brain. I spent the rest of the afternoon deep in thought trying to recover the emotional side of my being. I've since been told that this is what it's like to talk to me. I mention this because I've been very aware lately of how my communication style is very different from most everyone else's. Some people call it being direct. I've called it "turning my brain inside out". Today I found a new description: "for the sake of expressing your truth". That's it. As I roll around this line in my head, I can't help but wonder why more people cannot grasp this concept. I know the answer, but it still doesn't seem adequate. You see, truth is truth. I've talked openly about going through intensive therapy sessions. I've told peop

I'm in the Orlando area this weekend. I've spent a delightful few days surrounded by and laughing with loved ones and am now soaking in a few hours completely to myself in my favorite coffee shop in Kissimmee. Spending the afternoon in the town where I lived for the majority of my married life is a bittersweet feeling. So much has changed that I barely recognize the street corners. At the same time, no amount of real estate development can strip the landmarks etched into my memory of the life I lived here. While stopped at a light in front of Old Town, I felt an unfamiliar twinge in my heart. I know that place well because for a few years it was the source of one of my few joys. In the darkest days of my marriage I would drive out to Old Town, buy some tickets, and ride the Scrambler. As I was thrown from side to side in the carriage, lights strobing around my eyes, I would laugh. No matter how crappy I felt inside, I could laugh sitting there. So I would ride as much as possib

I met a most extraordinary child today. She is a delightful third grader who stole my heart with her smile and bright blue eyes. We (her mother, grandmother, and siblings) sat on her grandmother's gorgeous wrap around porch taking in the gentle breeze blowing through the pine trees and palmettos. It's an old-Florida setting that makes me think of Majorie Kinnan Rawlings in the middle of the Florida scrub writing her novels. You cannot sit there without taking a deep breath and letting the heavy, late summer air soak into your skin and draw out your anxiety. Hannah drew imaginary drawings with her fingertips in the round wooden table and told us that she cannot wait until she is an adult and a teacher. Her older sister cautioned her that she didn't want to grow up fast because that meant she had to pay bills. Without skipping a beat, Hannah looked up and said, "Yes, I do want to pay my bills and have a job because that means I'm living my life. You have to live your

Perhaps the greatest surprise for me in the aftermath of my divorce has been what other people have to say about what I have been and should be doing with my life...especially dating. During a recent conversation I made the remark, "everyone has fifty-million pieces of conflicting advice". Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate the advice. What I don't get is how to sort through it all. I'm not kidding...it's all completely contradictory. I'm slowly coming to the realization that none of it matters in the end. What does matter is finding what resonates with me and trusting that. I'll be honest. It scares the hell out of me. I don't like to make mistakes. I prefer to know the outcome before I get started. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever reach the point when I can honestly sit back and say, "Whatever happens, happens." Then again, that's pretty much how I see it all. This path before me is filled with possibilities, and I like t

I know this will come as a complete shock to anyone who knows me, but yesterday I was given the official diagnosis of "wrapped-too-tight". What? Me? The super hero of all super heroes? This reminds me of my favorite line in Five for Fighting's "Superman": Even heroes have the right to bleed. I'm trying to "bleed" now, and this is not a simple task for someone who carries the weight of her world around on her slumped shoulders. To say that I've been "under pressure" lately is the understatement of the century, and I'm one of those people who carry stress so well that I don't notice it. Interrupted sleep. Jolts running through my muscles. Weird pains in my back and legs. Racing thoughts. I push through the subtle warning signs in a frantic attempt to duct tape my world together and keep up the appearance that it's all under control. It's not. Well, not completely. And that duct tape is just so tempting. Armed with this n

One of the regular refrains I hear from the people around me is about my attitude. "That's a healthy way to see things." "You're such an inspiration." "I don't know how you smile the way you do." The truth is that I don't see any other option. Each day I have to make one of two choices: wallow in a sea of self-pity and mistakes or accept what is in front of me and move on from there. Each day--sometimes with more of a struggle than others--I make the choice to move. The fact of the matter is that I married a man who was dishonest with and unfaithful to me. We should be divorced in a few days. I now live alone. I have to do yard work. I don't get to kiss anyone good night. This is my life. And there's still life there. I eat. I laugh. I talk. I smile. Life is moving forward, and I am moving with it. It's the only choice that makes sense.

I'm sitting in Starbucks right now staring at my computer screen. I type a sentence, think about it for a minute, and then delete it. Words and ideas flood my head, but I can't seem to focus them in one direction long enough to complete a thought that is worthy of sharing with anyone. Right now I'm thinking of when I'm going to deal with yard work again, paying my ridiculously high cell phone bill, dating, divorce, running, my own self-image, the fact that I need to start feeding my body decent food, listing my house for sale, and the occasional reminder that I need to buy more water and cat food. And perhaps some food for myself. That's on my mind, but what I really want to share are some of the ideas I've been toying with in my head. The aging process for women. The joy of knowing you are exactly where you're supposed to be in life. The connectedness of the world around us. The process of carving out a life in line with your values. I even have a few more

My life seems to be evolving yet again before my very eyes. Remember when I said I wanted to get my degree and open a private therapy practice ? The reason I've always considered it as a career choice is because I want to share with people my view of life. It's not that I think I have all the answers, but I do think I have a gift for helping people live in the moment. That's my passion...experiencing each moment and milking it for all it's worth. Last night I was talking with a friend about fishing. He was sharing some stories about being out in the water and said something about how I could write a book about these stories. I laughed because that's EXACTLY what I thought the first time I heard any of them. He tells them with such enthusiasm and passion that I know if I could capture it in words, the book would be a best seller. I processed this while running this morning and thought about the common thread connecting all my book ideas. They are all about life exper

I was asked tonight about the divorce and touched on the fact that it has been such a liberating experience for me. These pieces of myself that I'm recovering and using to piece together my life again are such an interesting array of brokenness. I didn't realize just how broken I was until the last few weeks, and certain moments make me more aware than others. I spent the afternoon and evening with some friends I met at work a few years ago when I first moved to this area. It was comforting to have a place to go for today's holiday, and it was just SO MUCH FUN! As we sat outside watching others' and producing our own fireworks displays, I was suddenly aware of the absolute peace I felt in the moment. For once, I wasn't worried about what time I needed to leave or listening to the conversation to make sure it wasn't boring or irritating to my significant other. There was no pressure...just experiencing what was in front of me. After years of sitting anxiously at

I went to a training today for work. I'm not always thrilled about attending these things, but I go because...well, I have to. Usually, I'm bored out of my mind and spend the day playing a silly word game a psychology professor once taught me or writing poetry. Despite the fact that I was sitting next to one of my favorite people in my work world, I started to work on a poem that's been in my head for well over a year. I stood before the wind as she moved across the land and she kissed me with the sweet touch of the breeze. She asked me just to lay back and trust where she would go and she'd carry me to find my deepest dreams. That's as far as I got, and the first two lines were already done. Finding the will to write was an exciting moment for me. I think I'll finally be able to explore words again. and I'm processing so much about life that I really need that outlet. One of the things I'm processing is a new awareness of myself and a new level of self-

I haven't been sleeping well for the last few...years. This is nothing new. I'm a chronically light sleeper who wakes up at the sound of a butterfly sneezing in Africa. Or the first crack of light emanating from my alarm clock in the darkness of 3 a.m. And I can't sleep when there is any light around. I've been sleeping on a sofa bed for the last few days, and it is positioned directly under two large south-facing windows. The light begins seeping through around 6 a.m., and from then until whenever I finally officially wake, I attempt to sleep with my head wedged between two pillows. During this time, I have some interesting dreams. This morning my dreams were all conversation-based, and each one carried the theme of "conversations you wish people could really have in this world." Let's just say, in the not-so-perfect dream world, men were open, honest, and forthright about what they were thinking in relationships. I was bold and unreserved about what I re

The title of this post is one of my favorite lines from "Dharma & Greg". It's from the episode where Dharma tries to crawl under the door of a bathroom stall and can't because of her...well, ample bosom, as she says. I always think of this line when I try to go clothes shopping. Shopping for clothes is usually not a fun process. I don't exactly have a body shape that fits anything trendy. If it fits in the bust or the hips, it's WAY too big in the waist. The arms are often too short or too tight for my taste. Most pants are too long for my legs. And dresses...well, dresses are almost impossible. The waist always seems to hang just below my hips. And then there's the color problem. Most everything in my closet is black or navy blue, with a few fuschias thrown in for fun. I also don't wear patterns. At all. I'm mentioning this because I went shopping today. I hoped to find some new shirts, but no such luck. Why is that clothing designers only see

Have you ever read the short story, The Lady or the Tiger? The language is rather archaic, but the premise of the story will haunt you for weeks. A man and princess are madly in love, but her father doesn't want them together. He treats the man as a criminal for loving his daughter and punishes him by placing him in an arena and forcing him to choose one of two doors. Behind one door is a fierce tiger that will immediately eat him. A beautiful woman waits behind the other door, ready to marry him. The princess, of course, finds out what is behind each door, and she signals to her lover which door to choose. That's when the story ends, and you, as the reader, must decide whether she allowed her lover to live the rest of their lives with someone else or die. I've always maintained that she watched him die that day. I find it hard to believe that someone who has experienced such passionate torrents of love could ever continue life knowing that the former beloved is still brea

I should be posting pictures of my recent trip to Siesta Key with Christy. But I don't have them. I should be showing off the pictures of canoeing down Rainbow River . But I don't have them. I may be finally accepting things as they come. And then again, maybe I'm still reeling in the stew of my irrational fears that brought me to the brink of a breakdown last week. But life is good, and I like knowing that I can say that right now, especially since I had one of those days that could have easily run amok! I woke up this morning thinking that I was going to a training this week. Once I drove the 45 miles to the training site, I found out that I didn't have to go. I was certainly angry about the waste of time, but I also very quickly realized that I had a very real answer to my recent prayers: time. So I stopped by the gym on my way home, mowed most of the property, snuck in a nap, and managed to clean out a closet. I need this time to go through my home and remove the cl

I'm faced with a new feeling lately that has taken me by surprise. The freedom of choice. For most of my life I made all my decisions through an eternal process that involved hours of thought and consultation with others and debate over the pros and cons of whatever I was facing. Then there was always the consideration of how my decisions would affect other people. As a result, I didn't go to college when I really wanted to; stayed in bad relationships too long; and refused to leave jobs that made me miserable. I've learned a lot about myself and my beliefs in the last few years since I've had to make a decision that only affected me. The most valuable lesson is that I'll know when the time is right. (This means that as long as I'm hemming and hawing, it's not time to pick a side.) The next most valuable is that life is a series of decisions, and even if I make a bad one, it's not the end of the world. I'm perfectly able and content to jump in and go

So I woke sometime in the middle of the night to a not-so-delightful smell like burnt rubber in my bedroom. My first thought was that my livingroom lamp was protesting the fact that I left it on all night. Before I left for work, I ran around unplugging anything that I could unplug. When I got home earlier, the smell was even stronger. Fortunately, some clouds rolled in so I could turn off the air conditioner and open some windows. I immediately got online so the internet could tell me something useful like how to pour ammonia in bowls or line the room with vanilla candles. It turns out that skunk smells are often described as burnt rubber. Great. I know for a fact that there was a skunk outside just a few days ago. I've heard the rumblings of a little critter. There are a million cats around here who could very easily coerce a skunk into releasing it's oh-so-special fragrance. I'm a firm believer in starting with the most likely/least damaging scenario...when it's some

Please forgive what I suspect will be a rambling quality to this post. I finally made it to bed this morning around 3:45 and crawled back out of it at 7:30 to go to my niece's first birthday party. I went to my school's graduation last night and spent the night thinking of the excitement of new beginnings. I am certainy in a season of firsts in my life. I expected this. (How could I not?) And you know what, I'm enjoying them...even the bittersweet ones. In the last month, I have embraced these first moments since my marriage ended. * family gathering * signing a single name on cards * mowing my yard * kiss * grocery shopping for one * pinball game * summer plans It's a beautiful life.

The greatest blessing in my life today is the ability to run on that heavenly treadmill at my gym. I am overflowing with gratitude from every fiber of my being for my two legs (even the aching knee), that glorious machine made of plastic and gears and moving band, and Linkin Park. I needed some decent music for running today, and still haven't figured out what brand of crack I was smoking when I decided that "Joy to the World" and "Hips Don't Lie" were good choices for a running workout. As I frantically searched my iPod for something...anything with a pounding beat that could blast away all the crap in my head, I clicked on " Don't Stay " by Linkin Park. "Don't stay...forget our memories." And I clicked repeat. "Just give me myself back, and don't stay." And I clicked repeat. "I don't need one more day of you wasting me away." And I clicked repeat. It was heaven. The song shouted and screamed and pound

I joined a new gym yesterday. I tend to have love/hate relationships with the gym. I love the environment--slamming weights, huffing runners, and even the snooty exercise classes. I hate paying for it, thinking I have enough "stuff" at home to run my own gym. Yesterday I decided to go ahead and get a new membership because it will get me out of the house and the unpredictable rain has really hampered my running lately. So I stopped in today for my short run training. You know how I feel about running. I love the pounding feet and the solitude of being wrapped up in my own head. In fact, I often workout without music because the silent repetitiveness is soothing for me and helps me think through my life in really strange ways. Like, I've been working on my conversational Spanish lately, and I spent the entire time on the treadmill talking to myself in Spanish. Today I hopped on the treadmill with the goal of completing 1.5 miles. I'm new to this and trying to work up t

Here's my question of the day: Why do I feel the need to explain my actions? Don't get me wrong. I believe in accountability, and I am so grateful for the people in my life who aren't afraid to call me out and set me straight from time to time. I need that. We all do. I'm talking about those moments when I feel the need to go over all the gory details of my decision making process, like why I might eat cheese enchiladas from my favorite Mexican place for seven dinners in a row. Or what made me decide to wear cowboy boots with a denim skirt and tiara-styled headband. Then there are the bigger issues. As if that isn't bad enough, I'm more than willing to fall into the trap of, "if you questioned my decision, maybe I'm making the wrong one." Then I'll hide the boots for three years. I've done this enough that I'm comfortable with the pattern. Just the fact that I'm writing this tells me I'm ready to break the pattern. At the e

I've hesitated blogging lately because my life is completely consumed with the end of the school year and my impending divorce. It seems self-centered and not terribly exciting, but it is my life. I also think that some of these new insights might help someone else. And if I've learned anything from the years of marriage counseling I've been through, the advice works in many more situations in life than just your marriage. So here goes. I went to see a divorce counselor this week to help guide me through the next few months as I navigate these new waters. I'm impressed so far. I like a third party who isn't afraid to tell me like it is. And he did. He also gave me a few ground rules like "no boyfriends for at least six months" (I'm looking for ways around that one) and sent me home for a week to create a list of what I like. The homework assignment alone has generated some interesting conversations with friends. Try it. What do you like? My answers hav

I started to apologize for this post because it is completely self-serving. Then I realized that it's MY BLOG, and I can write ALL ABOUT ME as MUCH AS I WANT. I feel better. Seriously, though. With a divorce looming just ahead, I've been forced to re-consider much of my life and asking lots and lots of questions. For the last ten years, I've been part of a two-some. A couple. Like any other couple, my life was not entirely my own. I participated in interests and activities that were not always my own...happily. A decade of this creates a very comfortable setting. One that has been stripped away. The scariest part of this whole process is trying to figure out ME. The good news is that I feel and see the real me slowly seeping out of my pores and taking hold. That's fun, like reconnecting with an old friend. At the same times, it's hard work separating yourself from the two-some and carving out what is essentially a very self-centered life for now. What are my interes

I've been thinking a lot lately about decisions and how they shape the outcomes of our lives. I know that's a fairly obvious obsersvation, but I'm in one of those introspective moments that forces you to really consider some what-ifs and how-the-hell-did-that-happens. As I look at the course behind me, I can't help but think of how much I've sacrificed and accepted and been affected by the choices of both myself and my loved ones. The course before me is lined with so many possibilities that I was at first overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all. Some decisions have been easy. I know where I will work and live. Others, not so much. Who do I want as part of my life? What is best for me? Someone asked me the other night what I like to do for fun, and I was dumbfounded. I couldn't answer a simple question about myself. I've been bombarded lately with the advice of some well-meaning people who say things like, "Just let it all go and the good stuff will find

If you've talked to me or exchanged emails or texts from me in the last week, you might be surprised by what I have to say. The last seven days have been a whirlwind of activity and emotion and I'm completely thrilled to be in this place today. I feel free. I've heard people describe this level of freedom within their souls and often wondered just how it feels. Now I know. I wish I could go into detail about just what brought me here, but I have to refrain because of the current situation. (Email or call me if you really want to know!) I have discovered some truths that have changed my perspective and released me from years of guilt and pain and sorrow. A chat with my dear therapist friend confirmed it for me. Life is good from my vantage point. Different, but good.

My life looks so different now from the view I had a week ago. Did I say that already? I'm okay. I have been surrounded by the most amazing people who have listened to me talk incessantly, sat with me while I cried, and let me walk through these devastating recent days. I'm okay. I've tied together lots of loose threads and pieced together so much about myself and finally reached the point of being able to see clearly what used to be clouded. I feel like I have a sense of hope. It feels good.

My life is now completely different than it was three days ago. There's not much to say at this point other than that. I don't know how much I will be on here in the near future, but I know that I will rise from the ashes of my dead dreams and will return.

Earlier in the week someone included me in a statement about "strong women", and my initial reaction was such shock that I spent the rest of the day trying to come up with a definition of "strong woman". How do you define "strong"? I still don't have an answer. I'm not even close. What I do know is that I certainly don't feel strong. I cave too often to peer pressure. I long to be part of "the group" so much that I throw my principles out the window with ease. I run from taking responsibility for my own feelings and prefer to hide my ideas for fear that someone won't "get them". For the most part I feel like a weak chameleon bumbling through a life comprised of other people's decisions. So now I wonder...what makes someone strong?

I've had a recurring dream for the last year or so that always seems to involve the same group of people. The situations change, but the people and the feelings associated with being around them remain constant. I believe very strongly in the power of dreams. Whether or not they are just random images being sorted by the sleeping brain or unconscious messages, I firmly believe we have them for a reason, especially when they repeat. This morning I woke from that recurring dream, and I think I finally figured out what it means. The people in the dream are real people from my life, and they all have something in common. They took a dream away from me. This realization has had me thinking most of the morning. How many times have I relinquished or allowed someone to take a dream away from me? Far more than I like to admit. How many times have I taken a dream from someone? I'm not sure. It's a sobering thought. And you know what? It's kept me from dreaming. With this in mind,

This week is Spring Break in my neck of the woods. So far I've used my time well. I slept for 10 hours yesterday and last night. I think I could go back to bed right now. But that won't happen any time soon. I'll be spending the rest of today editing my uncle's book. I'm really looking forward to finishing this, partially because I have some other things to work on, but mostly because I really believe in this message. I think it will be in print very soon, so I'll be sure to keep everyone updated.

I'm playing d.j. tonight. My two colleagues have been teaching clothing terms to our students who have recently arrived in the country, and one of their culminating projects is a fashion show in which the students could choose to either model or read and then had to work together to write a description of the clothing. Needless to say, this has been a fun project for high school students. My part is the music. I am not a discoverer of great music (I'm loving Ray LaMontagne, Christy), nor do I claim to be a musicphile (I think I made up that word) or historian. However, I do know what I like and have a rather extensive collection of what I like. House/Techno music just happens to fit that category, and I think it's a good match for a fashion show. So in between trips to change the laundry and get tomorrow's lunch together I'm listening to some old (read 90's...when did my music become retro?) techno dance music. My big chore right now is making sure I don't c

As you now, we sold our house last summer to some family friends. We, of course, were thrilled to be able to sell and relieve our one-income budget. They loved the place and the school district. It seemed like a perfect fit. We loved that house and the neighborhood, and we felt sure that they would too. But the neighbors have been royal pains. Last night I heard about the headaches they were causing our friends. So far the neighbors have cost them thousands of dollars, one of their dogs, and their peace of mind. I just don't understand why someone would be that hateful. That's what it all comes down to. What is it that pushes someone to go out of their way and spend all their extra time actively seeking to cause problems for someone? I. Just. Don't. Get. It. I'm angry. No, I'm pissed about the whole thing. For one thing, I feel partially responsible. We assured these people that our neighbors were wonderful people who were always friendly and who looked out for me w

I'm really trying to follow through with this whole "growing a farm" thing. This week a dear friend of mine gave me 21 tomato plants to take home. Most of them already have tomatoes growing! I brought them home and planted all of them. Some are in pots, and some are in a not-so-tidy row of land I cleared by hand. Add these to the two tomato plants I already have, and I have 23 tomato plants. That means a whole lotta canning at some point in my future. Feeling inspired by my gardening, I bought a small tabletop greenhouse. I still have a stack of seeds ready to sprout. I had some great success with the last set until I move the sprouted plants outside. Only one survived, and I have no earthly idea what kind of plant it is. I never thought I'd reach the point of my life when gardening is fun. But it is. And the more I learn about commercial farming (especially outside of the U.S.) the more determined I am to grow my own fruits and vegetables. In fact, if we really knew

When we were teenagers, my sister and I were addicted to YM Magazine. Our favorite section was the "most embarrassing" moment page where teens from across the country shared horror stories about being caught making out with their boyfriends or getting a very public monthly surprise. In that spirit, I bring you the following tale. My dear friend, Nadia, and I decided to go to the beach last Saturday. Going to the beach with me is quite an experience, and you must either really love the beach or me to put up with the process. I'm terrified of sunburns (and suntans) to such a degree that I layer an un-godly SPF sunscreen all over my body, insist on laying under an umbrella, and usually cover up with an over-sized beach towel. My umbrella was damaged, and I needed a new one, so we stopped at Costco where Nadia had seen one at a great price. I needed to make a pit stop in the restroom. It was just my luck that I chose a stall with a lock that unlatched every time someone close

Do you ever want to run away? I do. Right now. I want to pack up and head out. As usual, I'm overwhelmed and desperately trying to find some semblance of balance. I'm not so good at that. As it stands, I'm really thrilled that I managed to wash the dishes tonight *and*rearrange the stacks of papers I need to grade that were scattered across the table. That's the highlight of my day...until I wash my hair. Where would you go? My dream escape takes me to just about anywhere I don't know the language. I think it's comical that someone who loves communicating in any form would want to run away to a place where there would be no communicating. Then again, the only reason I ever want to run away is to find some solace in my solitude. I know that I recharge best when I'm alone. One of the things I've discovered about the "people" in the book I'm (will be when I get a free moment) working on is that they are all running from something. They've

I bought a miniature greenhouse yesterday. It's basically just an egg crate with a plastic cover, but I am so excited about the possibilities it presents. I've dreamed for a long, long time about growing my own food, partially because I'm paranoid about pesticides and mostly because I resent buying produce from other countries when I live around a more than 500 acre farm. I already have two tomato plants growing. They are both three feet tall. Last night, I created a chart in my journal that outlines the growing season. I then planted eggplant, corn, radishes, beans, cucumbers, artichokes, and pumpkins in my greenhouse. I will start some lettuce, broccoli, and spinach next and plan to keep them inside since the temperature will most likely not dip below 45 from now until December. My plans eventually include pomegranate, avocado, mango, and citrus trees. I keep threatening to set up a stand on the side of the road this summer. Does that mean I could call myself a farmer?

I think I finally have a story ready to come out. Loss seems to be the big theme for me lately. Who am I kiddng? Loss is the theme of my life. And if you're honest, it's probably a major theme for yours. Isn't that why we fear change as much as we do? The story I'm working on is centered around 6 people (or pairs of people) whose lives intersect in a completely benign way. In my head it's sort of like Pulp Fiction meets Exile and the Kingdom. So far, I've met 4 of the people and heard about their losses: dreams, hopes, plans, identity. The funny part of writing is the way you see the characters and listen to their stories. That's where I am right now...walking around the place where these people are connected and listening to what they have to say. (For some reason, I think they're in Mexico.) I hope I do them justice. I enjoy listening to stories, especially when I don't feel the need to react and respond. Soaking up another person's words is a

Alan and I went out this afternoon to do a little shoe shopping. He desperately needed new shoes, and I couldn't wait to introduce him to my favorite shoe accessory--overpriced inserts! Sports Authority had a huge clearance sale on shoes, and we were greeted by four tables of shoes for the bargain price of $29.97. He immediately grabbed three pairs, tried them on, and in less than ten minutes selected a pair. As a comparison, it takes me more than ten minutes to decide which pairs to try on. After we picked up some inserts, we paused briefly to look at some shoes on the wall. One of the employees asked if we needed help, and we assured him we didn't. (After all, we had everything we came in to get.) As we turned to walk toward the register he stopped us and told us that he was required to put some stickers on our merchandise or he would get in trouble. Neither of one us fell off the turnip truck yesterday, and we both agreed that the stickers must be just a way for him to get c

I've been meaning to share some of these for a few weeks now. Here's part of why I like what I do. These responses are from some of my students' papers. Part of a character analysis essay about a girl who prefers to run in a race instead of dress in frilly white dresses to dance around a maypole on May Day: "She don't understand why her mother wants her to be a pole dancer." The opening sentence of a paragraph about why someone hates to do laundry: "Do you like touching people's underwears?" Written at the top of a student's paper for English class: "Teacher: Ms. P Subject: Chinese" The opening line of a frame poem based on Langston Hughes' "Dream Deferred": "What happens to my shit? (supposed to be "shirt") Does it get lost?"

I ran my first 5K race yesterday. It was the Walk for Paws benefit for the Naples Humane Society. The air was a delightful 40 degrees with a crisp breeze. The native Floridian in me was completely comfortable in a long sleeve shirt and sweatpants. The control freak in me was extremely anxious about the details of the race, and my brain raced through ideas like finding the starting line and hoping I wouldn't be the last one to cross the finish line. I didn't know if other people would bring their iPods, so I left mine in the car. I worried over where to place my number on my shirt and whether or not I would look like a complete dork when I ran. The whole experience was a blast. We all started with a light jog, but it wasn't long before I fell behind my friends. They ran the entire course. Since I've only been training for two weeks, I did my run/walk alternation. I was in HEAVEN! For a little more than three miles, I let my mind wander and thoughts run wild with every st

Last week I signed up for the Iron Girl 5K run in Clearwater. My friend, Sundi , mentioned it on her blog, and I completely fell in love with the name. Sundi's fitness journey has been an inspiration to me, and somehow it just seemed fitting to get my feet wet with this race. The Iron Girl is also a convenient location for my former workout buddy, Jen, to meet up with me. Jen started running back in October, and she will be running Gasparilla next month. We're going to do Iron Girl together in April, and I think this will become at least an annual event. Running a race together, that is. At Jen's recommendation, I'm following Jeff Galloway's training schedule. This means I had my first long run today. I laced up my new Nike Pegasus shoes, slapped on a sports bra, and headed out. Today's goal was 1 mile, running for 30 seconds and then walking for 60 seconds. I knew I was out of shape. I just didn't know I was THIS out of shape. I mean, I used to run on the t

The only part of the new digital conversion process that I like is the fact that now I get 4 PBS stations. I am a self-proclaimed PBS geek, and this week the channel has regaled me with biographies of the presidents. Here are a few things I learned this week. 1. The American people were overwhelmingly against any involvement in World War 2. They felt that it was none of their business and they didn't see the need to lose American lives to a cause that wasn't their own. Of course, all this changed with the attack on Pearl Harbor. What I found interesting is that that's not the way we remember that time period. The commentaries and reports were eerily similar to much of what we here today in regards to our current involvement in world affairs. 2. Harry Truman was a remarkable man. He was unable to go to college because his father lost everything the family had just as Harry graduated from high school. Harry took a job at a bank where he was liked and respected, but his father

I mowed yesterday. Believe me, this is more of a feat than it seems. I've never before operated a lawn mower. Every time I mentioned this (because I never do anything new without announcing it to at least 7 people) to someone, they'd say, "Oh, just pull the string and push." That's great advice, but we have a riding mower. A very expensive riding mower with lots of buttons and switches and better shocks than are on my car. The thought of being responsible for this piece of machinery scared the snot out of me. Not only did I have to worry about somehow breaking the mower, but Alan was going to have to explain to me how to use it. Over the phone. Let's just say his directions and my brain don't always make a connection. Sure enough, we ended up in a delightful blow-up over a lever he insisted was to the right of the steering wheel. He had to call someone to verify that I was telling the truth when I said there was no lever to the right of the steering wheel.

I stopped by Beall's this morning to browse through the clearance racks. My youngest niece needs new clothes. (She is only 7 months old, but she is already wearing 9 to 12 month clothes. Her height is certainly from my mother's side of the family.) It was 9:02, but they had not opened the doors yet. I stood outside with an older couple. He reminded me of Kramer, very tall and slender with curly hair that hovered over the top of his head. They both looked at me when I walked up to the door, and I asked, "They haven't opened the doors yet?" He walked over to hear what I asked. She glanced back and said, "No, and it's after 9:00." I smiled and thanked her. The man then looked at me and pointed to the Beall's Outlet next door. He said something about the store. I thought he was asking if they were open, so I walked over. Lo and behold, they were, and I called down to them so they could see. About 10 minutes later I was walking through the regular Bea

I know I've been absent lately, but I just really haven't had much to say. To me that line seems like a total cop-out, but it's true. Sometimes there just aren't words to express what's going on in your life. I'm learning to accept that. I picked up a copy of "Their Eyes Were Watching God" at the library a few weeks ago, and I've been reading it as I find a few quiet moments. One passage, in particular, has echoed in my head, and it perfectly sums up how I've felt. "There's a basin in the mind where words float around on thought and thought on sound and sight. Then there is a depth of thought untouched by words, and deeper still a gulf of formless feelings untouched by thought." That's where I've been lately. Let's face it. The gulf of formless feelings doesn't exactly translate well to the blog world. The new year (and a long overdue photography session) has rejuvenated me somewhat. At least my will power seems to

Dear Blog, I am so sorry I have ignored you for the last few weeks. It's been a busy Christmas season. Even though I've technically been "on vacation" I've still had exams to score, gifts to buy, and more running around than I EVER like to do. My niece, Mariah, has been here since last Saturday, and this is the first day I've actually had a moment to post anything. We're actually at the library now uploading pictures to Walgreens so we can print them out and put them in a scrapbook. That's our final activity, nicely wrapping up the week. We went to the beach twice. (I'm in southwest Florida, people...it was 85 degrees!). Clam Pass in Naples is one of my favorite beaches. We rented the Aqua Cycle and soon discovered that it looks a heck of a lot more fun when you watch someone else in it. Lover's Key State Park is a delightful spot in Fort Myers. We did go swimming both days. Yes, we're both Florida natives. Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was a b