Sunday, February 15, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Friday Foto: Beach Wedding
A wedding on the beach. These are the only photos I have without the wedding couple in them and since it is not my wedding...
For all my years of living here (27), this is one of the only weddings I have been to that was straight up on the beach. Most beach weddings the couple rents a beach house, but this one was set up on a windswept, beautiful beach where there are no houses. It was simple, barefooted, and lovely.
Happy Valentine's Weekend.
For more Friday Fotos. head on over to Candid Carrie's
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Spin Cycle this week is LOVE.
Living with people you love isn’t always easy. But just when you wonder if it’s all worth it and maybe your life would be simpler and more peaceful if you did a nonalcoholic version of Kerouac and took off with that backpack and headed, say, to a train (and no, Captain, we do not have trains over here I’d have to take a plane first, which does change the whole running away mysticism). What was I saying? Oh yeah. Just when you wonder if all the anxiety and stress is something you can live with FOREVER, it stops. And you feel the love come pouring in, like a calm blanket, and it wraps you up and you know you would lie down in front of that train instead of getting on it if you needed to in order to make your loved ones life better somehow. And I guess that’s what we do metaphorically every time we stick around when it’s not pretty.
I woke up from a dream this morning. My dreams can get fairly bizarre, but this one was so simple, it was like dream interpretation for intuitive idiots. In my dream I was at the movies with my daughter. I was watching the movie, but I was holding a white teddy bear with a red ribbon tied around its neck. We were sitting in the side aisle. Along through the middle aisle, I feel before I see someone approaching. It’s my husband, and he’s making his way over to us. And guess what is in his arms? A bigger-than-mine, white teddy bear and a big cello wrapped bunch of long stemmed red roses. My daughter elbows me and we move down a seat and make room for the hubs. Without saying a word, we both acknowledge we are not angry any more, and shake our heads at the matching make up gifts.
I know it sounds as corny as a carnival dog, but that’s the dream. Very clichéd, yes. But in reality, we have NEVER given each other stuffed animals, so I guess my psyche was telling me we are both a couple of toddlers when it comes to holding a grudge and staying pissy.
So I wake up from this dream and it’s, of course, 3:30 AM (because that is the usual insomniac moment of waking and not being able to go back to sleep for me) and I look over at my sleeping husband and it is like watching a terrible two year old. Remember those days? The wild child by day looks like an angel when sleeping? I see the peacefulness of his sleep rimmed with the worry of work being slow and bills not paid. Instead of wanting to hit him over the head with a blue pillar, I want to lay my hand over his forehead and somehow absorb the anxiety that haunts him.
I go into my son’s room and there is my 6’1” gangly sixteen year old sprawled as only a teenager can when knocked out for the night. He looks totally konked, but as I brush the hair off of his forehead, he smiles in his sleep, opens one eye, and mutters as he falls back to sleep, “love you mom.”
My heart melts and is refueled at the same time.
I woke up from a dream this morning. My dreams can get fairly bizarre, but this one was so simple, it was like dream interpretation for intuitive idiots. In my dream I was at the movies with my daughter. I was watching the movie, but I was holding a white teddy bear with a red ribbon tied around its neck. We were sitting in the side aisle. Along through the middle aisle, I feel before I see someone approaching. It’s my husband, and he’s making his way over to us. And guess what is in his arms? A bigger-than-mine, white teddy bear and a big cello wrapped bunch of long stemmed red roses. My daughter elbows me and we move down a seat and make room for the hubs. Without saying a word, we both acknowledge we are not angry any more, and shake our heads at the matching make up gifts.
I know it sounds as corny as a carnival dog, but that’s the dream. Very clichéd, yes. But in reality, we have NEVER given each other stuffed animals, so I guess my psyche was telling me we are both a couple of toddlers when it comes to holding a grudge and staying pissy.
So I wake up from this dream and it’s, of course, 3:30 AM (because that is the usual insomniac moment of waking and not being able to go back to sleep for me) and I look over at my sleeping husband and it is like watching a terrible two year old. Remember those days? The wild child by day looks like an angel when sleeping? I see the peacefulness of his sleep rimmed with the worry of work being slow and bills not paid. Instead of wanting to hit him over the head with a blue pillar, I want to lay my hand over his forehead and somehow absorb the anxiety that haunts him.
I go into my son’s room and there is my 6’1” gangly sixteen year old sprawled as only a teenager can when knocked out for the night. He looks totally konked, but as I brush the hair off of his forehead, he smiles in his sleep, opens one eye, and mutters as he falls back to sleep, “love you mom.”
My heart melts and is refueled at the same time.
Punahou Carnival 1994. How's this for a Valentine's photo? The boy is a sweet 19 month old in the arms of his father. Grandma was still with us. She raised my husband and we made a home for her after we bought our house. Daughter is a precious 4 and a half year old looking like a poster girl for cotten candy. The giant balloon baseball bat is a bit of a scary foreshadowing of the bam bam nature of my men, but we are letting that go...
I don't remember my husband having pink shorts...I don't think he'd be able to pull that off these days, not quite sure if he pulled it off then...just saying.
Happy Valentine's week. For more love spins, head on over to Sprite's Keeper.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Sitting Here in Limbo
What I want to know is this?? Has anyone ever died from living with teenagers? The angst? The mood swings? The drama?
What happens when you put a volatile teenage boy with horrible impulse control, a smart ass mouth, and a tenacity the likes of which should be harnessed and used to heat all homes in the Midwest in the same house with an edgy, quick tempered father who is worried about finances and having his hours cut at work?
There are days when I do believe the answer to the above question is this. What happens is you create a mother who has brief periods of thinking about becoming a hobo. Hopping a train with a backpack, a notepad, and a good book sounds like a peaceful life compared to the shit storm of living with boys and men.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Friday Foto: Sacred Places
Before we get started, heads up to this contest. If you are not famliar with SITS (The Secret is in the Sauce - see sidebar for badge), it is a great blog run by the sweetest ladies in the blogoshere. Very supportive. Lots of contests. The latest is a really great one, so check it out.
Now, back to today's post...
My walks keep me healthy. My husband gave me an I-shuffle (which, according to my students is an embarrassingly ghetto version of the coveted contraption) and this addition has added an essential element to my walking that I had not realized was missing. The walks are, in part, to clear my head and center myself. Too much of my focus is in the mental processes. My Chi Kun therapist and my acupuncturist both have told me that my energy needs to be in my “furnace,” (center-just above the belly button). Not in my head. Which can lead to migraines. Stress. Stress can lead to illness. Want to stay in remission. Must. Clear. Head.
HOWEVER, there are times where I find myself mentally preoccupied with less than stellar thoughts while pacing down the trails. Or, some irritating song gets stuck in my head.
Presto bingo, enter the magic I-shuffle. Sets the mood. Blast the thoughts from my brain.
Off we go.
First stop, the “feral” kitty cats. Along this bike path, which is one of my walks, there are dozens of “wild” cats. I’m not sure why Hawaii has so many homeless kitties. I have heard that people move and leave their cats. I don’t know anyone who does that. But along this bike path there are a dozen or more places where a pride of cats has claimed their turf. There are ladies who walk with a wagon every evening and feed the kitties. They catch the ones they can, take them to the Humane Society, have them fixed, then bring them back. Most of the cats come out to see if you are going to feed them. One or two like attention and want to be pet.
One of my best friends gave me a book when I was going through chemo called The Ultimate Healing. It is based on Buddhism and has meditation techniques to promote healing through a grave illness. One chapter was about doing good deeds for animals and the tranquility and peace this creates. I got BC that year. And I feed the feral cats. I don’t have a wagon, so I bring a bag that I can carry and feed the little ones that look like they get bullied from the food.
The long and winding road, that leads.....
To the gazebo. A sometimes stretching spot.
Sunrise on the piers.
Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. There is something about being surrounded by water, standing on the end of the pier, that cannot be duplicated with yoga and breathing exercises in my living room. This is my favorite yoga spot.
A second before you hear it. A second before you see it. You sense it. And there it is. The still surface of the water suddenly erupts as a school of fish changes directions and for a brief moment they simultaneously break through the water’s surface. The orchestra of a coordinated swoosh. A hundred little splashes. BC starts and trembles and for a second thinks about bolting.
Only one time it was not a school of fish. Right there in front of us a baby sting ray came flying out of the still surface of the water. It performed an acrobatic air bank and for a second looked like it was copying one of the planes that flies overhead on its way to the airport for a landing. A black shadow with a long black tail. Held in mid-air for a second not fifteen feet in front of BC and me. Take a picture with your mind, ain’t no time for cameras. A little gift from the sea.
It was gone in another second. We stood for a long time hoping for another show, but it was only meant to happen once. Sometimes, that’s just the way it is.
Then, it is time to turn around and head back.
Now, back to today's post...
My walks keep me healthy. My husband gave me an I-shuffle (which, according to my students is an embarrassingly ghetto version of the coveted contraption) and this addition has added an essential element to my walking that I had not realized was missing. The walks are, in part, to clear my head and center myself. Too much of my focus is in the mental processes. My Chi Kun therapist and my acupuncturist both have told me that my energy needs to be in my “furnace,” (center-just above the belly button). Not in my head. Which can lead to migraines. Stress. Stress can lead to illness. Want to stay in remission. Must. Clear. Head.
HOWEVER, there are times where I find myself mentally preoccupied with less than stellar thoughts while pacing down the trails. Or, some irritating song gets stuck in my head.
Presto bingo, enter the magic I-shuffle. Sets the mood. Blast the thoughts from my brain.
Off we go.
BC Says welcome to the bike path.
First stop, the “feral” kitty cats. Along this bike path, which is one of my walks, there are dozens of “wild” cats. I’m not sure why Hawaii has so many homeless kitties. I have heard that people move and leave their cats. I don’t know anyone who does that. But along this bike path there are a dozen or more places where a pride of cats has claimed their turf. There are ladies who walk with a wagon every evening and feed the kitties. They catch the ones they can, take them to the Humane Society, have them fixed, then bring them back. Most of the cats come out to see if you are going to feed them. One or two like attention and want to be pet.One of my best friends gave me a book when I was going through chemo called The Ultimate Healing. It is based on Buddhism and has meditation techniques to promote healing through a grave illness. One chapter was about doing good deeds for animals and the tranquility and peace this creates. I got BC that year. And I feed the feral cats. I don’t have a wagon, so I bring a bag that I can carry and feed the little ones that look like they get bullied from the food.
The long and winding road, that leads.....
To the gazebo. A sometimes stretching spot.
Sunrise on the piers.
Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. There is something about being surrounded by water, standing on the end of the pier, that cannot be duplicated with yoga and breathing exercises in my living room. This is my favorite yoga spot.
A second before you hear it. A second before you see it. You sense it. And there it is. The still surface of the water suddenly erupts as a school of fish changes directions and for a brief moment they simultaneously break through the water’s surface. The orchestra of a coordinated swoosh. A hundred little splashes. BC starts and trembles and for a second thinks about bolting.Only one time it was not a school of fish. Right there in front of us a baby sting ray came flying out of the still surface of the water. It performed an acrobatic air bank and for a second looked like it was copying one of the planes that flies overhead on its way to the airport for a landing. A black shadow with a long black tail. Held in mid-air for a second not fifteen feet in front of BC and me. Take a picture with your mind, ain’t no time for cameras. A little gift from the sea.
It was gone in another second. We stood for a long time hoping for another show, but it was only meant to happen once. Sometimes, that’s just the way it is.
Then, it is time to turn around and head back. Thanks for stopping by for a little slice of PseudoLand.
For more Friday Fotos, head on over to Candid Carrie's.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Not Wordless Wednesday (Or, better known as Wal-Mart redux)
My work week is shaping up into a work month the likes of which make me wonder if I am able to keep up with my blogging habit. I truly wish I could have been around for my own comment thread yesterday. You people are the best. There was so much good stuff that I decided to post a couple of your comments.
Captain Dumbass had this link. Go check it out. I'll wait....
How was that for scary?
Jan shared this story, "Beloved won't shop there at all. He spent six months in Bentonville, employed by Informix, working on a Wal-Mart deal. He said the Wal-Mart culture is just amazing, and not in a good way - the Wal-Mart executives and management were forbidden to socialize with anyone outside of the company, and were all required to go through some sort of indoctrination when hired. He later worked for a company run by Scientologists that didn't have the "Big Brother" mentality Wal-Mart does."
Movie shared this story, "My ex did some work with a hospice once and he was super impressed because the local Walmart donated $1000 to the hospice house. Then we found out that the money came from the employees' donations, not corporate Walmart."
Movie's story brings up a point well made in the documentary. Wal-Mart has a program where employees can donate money from their paycheck to a fund to help employees who are in crisis. In 2004, the employees donated a combined total of 5 million dollars. That same year, the billionaire Walton family donated $6,000.
Captain Dumbass had this link. Go check it out. I'll wait....
How was that for scary?
Jan shared this story, "Beloved won't shop there at all. He spent six months in Bentonville, employed by Informix, working on a Wal-Mart deal. He said the Wal-Mart culture is just amazing, and not in a good way - the Wal-Mart executives and management were forbidden to socialize with anyone outside of the company, and were all required to go through some sort of indoctrination when hired. He later worked for a company run by Scientologists that didn't have the "Big Brother" mentality Wal-Mart does."
Movie shared this story, "My ex did some work with a hospice once and he was super impressed because the local Walmart donated $1000 to the hospice house. Then we found out that the money came from the employees' donations, not corporate Walmart."
Movie's story brings up a point well made in the documentary. Wal-Mart has a program where employees can donate money from their paycheck to a fund to help employees who are in crisis. In 2004, the employees donated a combined total of 5 million dollars. That same year, the billionaire Walton family donated $6,000.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Why I Try Not to Shop at Wal-Mart
The Spin Cycle this week from Sprite’s Keeper is “Turning Dollars into Sense.” Also known as Cost Cutting. Apropos with the economy floating around the top of the crapper, the hushed moment while everyone is watching the flusher. What’s going down the tubes at your house?
Not only is the cost of living in Hawaii exactly what you would expect (then double that) in a slice of paradise, but our number one industry is tourism. Which comes to a screeeeeching stall in economic downturns. My husband works at a high end resort. His hours have been cut in half since Christmas. Nuf’ said.
So, I’ve had this post floating around the perimeters of my addled, is thinking about taking a turn towards mid-life brain farts mind for awhile as well.
Ah, well. Here goes…
I highly recommend the documentary, Wal-Mart: The High Price of Low Cost. It is well made and has multiple sources for its information, including many high up managers. The documentary makes several cases against Wal-Mart business practices. Some of them are heartbreaking. The anecdotal stories. The bigger picture the film paints.
Highlights:
A systematic policy of not just paying low wages and offering little or no benefits, including health care; but of counseling their employees to go on public assistance. Wal-Mart employees cost tax payers over one billion dollars in 2004 (movie made in 2005). Managers interviewed tell how Wal-Mart, a multibillion dollar company trains their managers to tell the employees to use state assistance because that is what it is there for.
The sweat shops Wal-Mart is running in its factories overseas.
A systematic policy of discrimination against women and people of color when it comes to upper level management.
Crime in the parking lots and Wal-Mart’s lack of reaction or caring to this.
Changed landscape of small businesses and their ability to survive.
Yes, the prices are low. But at what cost?
This clip shows the unscrupulousness of their business practices and their greed. The Walton family is worth over 102 billion dollars, yet gives less than 1% to charity. The clip compares this to Bill Gates who gave 58% to charity the same year.
I’m not sure if I am more upset with Wal-Mart or Queen for this commercial.
Does anyone besides me remember the days where only the cheesiest and greediest of artists sold out their music for advertising?? Queen for Wal-Mart. Excuse me while I slip into depression over here.
Not only is the cost of living in Hawaii exactly what you would expect (then double that) in a slice of paradise, but our number one industry is tourism. Which comes to a screeeeeching stall in economic downturns. My husband works at a high end resort. His hours have been cut in half since Christmas. Nuf’ said.
So, I’ve had this post floating around the perimeters of my addled, is thinking about taking a turn towards mid-life brain farts mind for awhile as well.
Ah, well. Here goes…
I highly recommend the documentary, Wal-Mart: The High Price of Low Cost. It is well made and has multiple sources for its information, including many high up managers. The documentary makes several cases against Wal-Mart business practices. Some of them are heartbreaking. The anecdotal stories. The bigger picture the film paints.
Highlights:
A systematic policy of not just paying low wages and offering little or no benefits, including health care; but of counseling their employees to go on public assistance. Wal-Mart employees cost tax payers over one billion dollars in 2004 (movie made in 2005). Managers interviewed tell how Wal-Mart, a multibillion dollar company trains their managers to tell the employees to use state assistance because that is what it is there for.
The sweat shops Wal-Mart is running in its factories overseas.
A systematic policy of discrimination against women and people of color when it comes to upper level management.
Crime in the parking lots and Wal-Mart’s lack of reaction or caring to this.
Changed landscape of small businesses and their ability to survive.
Yes, the prices are low. But at what cost?
This clip shows the unscrupulousness of their business practices and their greed. The Walton family is worth over 102 billion dollars, yet gives less than 1% to charity. The clip compares this to Bill Gates who gave 58% to charity the same year.
I’m not sure if I am more upset with Wal-Mart or Queen for this commercial.
Does anyone besides me remember the days where only the cheesiest and greediest of artists sold out their music for advertising?? Queen for Wal-Mart. Excuse me while I slip into depression over here.
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