Animoto.com

Can't Sleep...

I am having trouble going to sleep.

I can't seem to turn off my brain nor keep my eyes from opening.

I laid awake wishing I was asleep and hoping I would just pass out quickly.

But here I am - awake - typing away with not a whole heck of a lot to say.

It's rather pathetic actually and now I'm wondering why I'm even allowing my fingers to dance about the keys as if they already had at least a few good hours of deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Again, my finger tips are dancing, my mind is trying to say some thing remotely intelligent and my eyes are watering because that's how they let me know that I am truly exhausted.

To no avail, the tips are typing, the mind forming words, and the eyes blurred to no end.

Help! How do I turn my brain off? Oh, wait, I think I've morphed into a vampire or a bat or a freaking weirdo, with nothing to say, but awake like the light of day!

Good god, man! Get it together and say good bye already!!!

We can't say the fingertips, I won't says the brain, and we're flowing a river by now say the eyes.

What?! Says the 'little' voice inside. The same little voice that told me to get up because I could not sleep. The same little voice that said if I got up and did a few things, then I would be ready to sleep, the same little voice that is making me wish I had never let the little voice out of wherever it comes from, because otherwise I'd be at least lightly slumbering if nothing else, instead I'm typing like a mad woman who has not said a thing in the time it has taken to type all of this crapola, voila!

OOPS!

Dear faithful and unfaithful followers of my blog,

I made a few minor changes on my blog but saw that one particular minor change omitted the check marks. These check marks were from your reactions to a specific post. So I wanted to apologize if yours was omitted.

Please feel free to add back your check mark if you would like. If not then no problem...

Thanks for checking out my blog!

Shalom, Kim

I Love You Song...by kim written in 2005

“i love you”

this heart and this life
is wandering among this world
not always sure where i’m headed
but you have your eyes on me

with the air so cold
and my breath caught in my throat
i take you in and you freshen me - and i say. . .

i love you
i love you
i love you
(3x)

with the sun peeking through the mist
the morning’s here to greet me
the trees, they whisper your name
deeper within me - and i say. . .

i love you
i love you
i love you
(3x)

the inconsistency of my life
breaks your very heart
spirit, you’ve got a hold on me
no matter i may stray
you embrace me

my words are few and simply said
my heart deeply inspired by you
oh, my voice calls out to you
you complete me - and i say. . .

i love you
i love you
i love you
(3x)

bridge:
i don’t always understand
i can’t even pretend to fully know you
but you keep stepping in
to free me (last 2 lines - 2x)

oh my lord, oh my god
oh my father i love you
(3x)

i love you
i love you
i love you
(1x)

Pouring Forth (2nd go-around for post)

Pouring forth from the depth of the soul:

In the desert with blowing sand, in the rain barefoot, in creativity with artistic passion, in voice with much to speak of, in welcoming arms willing to share their lives, in words for those willing to take in, in photos of unseen captivity, in love til death do us part, in rhyme with no reason, in poetic justice for those living unjustly, in the forest under a safe canopy of brooding arms, in the heart that is restless for much adventure and misadventures, in the eyes that they may see and do all that is of me, for me in the past, the present and and all that I was created to be and am becoming.

The talking wind: poetry by kim (2nd go-around for post)

Speak to me of my life•
Make it so I can understand•
Whisper the love that has embraced me•
Whisper the kindness of this one's sweetness•

Speak to me of my life•
Make it plain for me to see•
Show me visually where I have done wrong•
Show me visually how I may make it right•

Speak to me of my life•
Make it so that I can hear•
Sing to me the grace that I may grasp•
Sing to me the grace that I need and must extend•

Speak to me of my life•
Make it difficult or make it easy•

Speak to me of my life•
Make it so that I will always show love in the most possible ways•

Speak to me of my life•
Make me embrace the one that I am and grow in understanding to the one I will become•

Oh, you the spirit that takes shape as the wind•
Blow through this complicated being and cleanse me within•

Oh, you the spirit that takes shape as the wind•
Come sweep your loving and feather-soft hands across my furrowed brow•
Soften the wrinkles that show of my concerns in life•

Come swish your gentle body through this fragment of a figure so that it may be ready•
Ready to take in the love of others, the pain of others, tears of children, the loss of memory of old age, the broken hearted, the homeless wanderer, the rapist, the victim, the abandoned, the one in the darkness of their soul•

Blow through me so that I am no longer entrapped by my selfishness •
Blow me out so that I too may become like the spirit who takes shape as the wind •
So that I may bring peace to others, extend grace to others, to endure and love others, to help others in their very moment of need and most of all make time for others at all possible moments•

How quickly life can leave us and sometimes without a moment to say goodbye•
Oh, spirit that takes shape as the wind•
Please speak for me when I am gone so others will know I have loved, I have enjoyed, I have laughed, I have thought of them•

Oh, spirit you are marvelous in all your ways: through the wind, through my dreams, through my words, through my eyes, through my heart and most of all through my life•

Oh, spirit you have given me a wonderful and marvelous life•
I shall cherish it to the end•

Oh, spirit draw near and close to Michael always•
I whisper to him of my love in moments of despair, in moments we shared•
But when my time has come I know he will be in great pain•

Oh, spirit speak to his heart, his mind and comfort him of my love for him, forever more•
Blow your spirit through him of who we were together and what he will become•
I know you make me arise so that others will know that I have lived and loved in and through them•

Shalom,

Kim

The Glory of A Returned Journey : poetry by kim (2nd go-around for post)

The hills beyond the grassland whispers of things to come, to see and enjoy.

Walking knee deep in the golden thresh, of the sway, of the grass brings to mind the journey one must take to reach the next moment of exhilaration.

The air is stale making the lungs work greater for deeper breaths.

The humidity of the day does not let on that it will reprieve itself from the cloudy sky.

Reaching deep within the confines of this biological, skeletal being, the muscles work to move every joint, every member in a rhythmic cadence.

The quiet crushing of grass underfoot is a reminder that it's an intruder wandering this land of ancestors.

The surroundings are lush and green.

There are vast pockets of water that seem almost frozen with movement.

The air is foreign to this being, this intruder, who continues on its way to the next new moment.

There seems to be a noisy quietness that overwhelms the grassland, as it supports the hills from below.

The grassland teems with a great amount of life, wild, free, and unpretentious to its friends the hills.

The hills themselves seem to speak of a more quiet air that even dare say seems more sacred, more holy.

As each footing moves forward in direction, the ears are open, the heart is beating quickly, the mind works to recall perhaps a hint of familiarity, and the eyes are simply overwhelmed.

The aroma of this land is pungent, foreign, repulsive, yet welcoming to this intruder.

Just beyond the grassland and these hills bounds a more rambunctious bit of life beyond the horizon of this land.

The whizzing of motor bikes, the smells of fresh dishes, the chatter of a people selling their goods, street-side.

The noise is most overwhelming and constant but speaks of the goings on of a people in perpetual motion.

There are delicacies to be had, fresh from a boiling pot, there are trinkets made by hand, and drinks to be shared with another.

The sites and sounds only begin to subside as the day slowly draws to dusk, but the remnants of the days activities are still fresh in one's mind.

You'd think with all the noise of the township, that it would clearly echo its voice loudly and clearly to the quiet of the grasslands and hills, but neither knows of the other except by way of the traveling beings from one place to the other. Only to speak of such things when the other is not near.

This intruder prefers the quiet of the farmland, while its adventurous side looks forward to another day in the land of the masses. But only to return to the grassy lands where the vast pools of water, that mirror the hills from beyond, as though they were within reach.

This journey has only just begun and whether this has all been in one's head or whether it's footing has actually touched the quiet grassland, there could never be another journey quite like this - of one returning to one's motherland.

These Hands: poetry by kim (2nd go-around for post)

These hands have been in motion from the moment I was conceived.

These hands were the cilia that helped me figure out my world as a small child.

These hands, though asian are no different than my white sisters, my black brothers, my indian friends.

The phalanges that extend from the wrists of this being have learned to color with crayons, write with a pencil, do cursive in permanent ink.

They have held my body in midair as I learned to do cartwheels.

They have gracefully interpreted the emotions of a classical ballet piece.

They have gripped a tennis racquet, with sweat in between the leather and my epidermis, while running around on a court in hundred degree weather.

These hands have had my fingers jammed from 'setting' the volley ball for my fellow players.

These hands have created many a artistic projects for my family and friends on special and non-special occasions.

These long, somewhat slender fingers have dreamed of being a concert pianist while playing the ever challenging musical piece 'chop sticks'.

My hands have held the very hands of my husband from day one to the present, every day.

My hands are the tools in which I have learned many skills that employed me, have given me joy, have gotten me in trouble, have covered my mouth in a frozen surprise, have waved hello and goodbye to many loved ones through the years.

These hands with many miles on them are still young in years, and yet with so much life in them still, that I need not be surprised by what they will do for me next.

These hands have so desired, along with my heart, to embrace a lost child, an orphaned child, a sickly child, my own child,

So as the years have come and gone, these hands, my hands have allowed me to comfort the hurting, celebrate with a loved one, hugged a homeless person, clapped at a child's accomplishment or silliness, caressed the face of a newborn baby, and spoken another language through signing.

These hands, my hands have given little, have taken much and seek more ways to be used in the life of others.

These hands that have been so carefully and wonderfully made perfect, as well asfunctional, await for the abundance of new work, more sorrow, always ready to get dirty, waiting for a future of continued purpose.

Thank you, god, for these hands...

Ashes, Dust, Life...poem by kim (2nd go-around for post)

Life begins with a breath
Exhale
Inhale
Draw in what you need

Life plays out individually
Some share tall tales
Some share interesting tales
Others will share sad tales
More will no longer have a tale to tell

Life ends for each of us
Some unexpectedly
Some with celebration
She with terror
He with weakness
They with understanding
The little one unknowing

Life means something different for each of us
It was exuberant
It was interesting
It was nonexistent
Others it meant little
Others it was colorful

Life is a different color to each of us
Some saw red
Some saw African sky orange
She saw the purple of old age
He saw the yellow of a cornfield
They saw the grey of a gun barrel

Some say life and death are really the same
I used to not fathom such talk
But now I see how it could be
Life is fullness
Death is having had the fullness of life
And to remain fulfilling even past death

How could that be one may ask
I don't pretend to know
But if life is living, death is dying
then passing on must lead you to somewhere or something
Yes?
No?
I don't know...

Life
Death
Ashes
Dust
Still alive and with fullness
You, me us, they, them
Scatter where we long to return

To the sea
To the mountains
To a loved one
To home, wherever that may be
or in whom it may be

Hope Is Present In The Quiet Of The African Night...poem by kim (2nd go-around for post)

The wisp of the netting contains one in it's sheath, providing protection from the life beyond the threads of the thin cloth.

The native wanderers wait for just the right moment to come forth, entering the present of the night.

The settling of the earth is warm from the day's heat, yet welcomes the cool of the night

The cloudless african sky glitters with the life of the stars beyond, illuminated simply by the light of the moon.

The quiet of the african night lays claim to the souls that have settled in for an evening of sleep, of rest and a stillness unlike the day.

The night lends itself to the rhythm of the very souls breathing, as the dreams in their heads lay simple and pleasant joys wanting and remembered from long ago.

The quiet of the african night freshens the weary souls whose lives find each day more challenging than the next.

In the quiet of the african night, a sense of hope still prevails before the golden sun rises in the East, leaving the calm of sleep in the eyes of one awaking to the light of day.

Hope can remain in the quiet of the african night.

Hope must remain in the quiet of the african night.

But hope must also push through the quiet of the african night, to the rays of the dawning day. So that the very souls have more than sorrow and hopelessness to rise above from.

Hope is present in the quiet of the african night, but may that same hope be present in the light of day, every day. Not just in the night.

painting by mo osmon

The Sounds of Life...poem by kim (2nd go-around for post)

Listen here.

Still your footsteps for one moment.

Stop your breathing for the moment so as not to interfere with the other sounds of life.

Do you hear the water trickle from the stream, as it makes it way around twigs and pebbles?

Close your eyes to catch the sounds of a butterfly flitter from one flower to the next.

Still your heart to the beat of drumming tribes.

Halt your mind from whizzing by this way or that way.

Open your mind to the sounds of a child being born this very moment.

Tune your ears to the wind as it whispers gently across the face of a parent working in the fields.

Slow your hands so they hear the footsteps of your child running into your arms.

Calm your spirit as it wonders what all the noise is about.

Whisper to your spirit that the sounds of life are to lift you away to places unknown.

Whisper to the spirits of others that you have come to enjoy the sounds of their lives.

Speak deeply to your soul so that it may be comforted by the aching cries within you.

Call to jesus that his spirit will free you to venture to sounds of the lives of others.

Listen here.

Come my way to be quieted and given peace of the sounds of your life.

Listen here.

Plant your footsteps in my path that will halt the sounds of your fears.

Listen here.

Return To The Familiar...poem by kim (2nd go-around for this post)

There comes a time when the soul must wander into new territory
Sometimes that new territory is familiar

Familiar because one has tread upon its dusty roads, slept upon its cemented floors, taken up residence with a familiar people
Familiarity as common as spoken words, tribal songs, shared life, experienced death, and danced without hesitation

When the soul finds its place of familiarity, it seeks out greater experiences than it once had before
Not because it disliked those experiences prior, but simply to be reminded why the soul has returned from time apart and why it now desires the love it has been distant from

The soul is reminded of sunrises, sunsets, windswept days, smells not so foul to them, laughter in the distance, wailing of death in the evening air, footprints going and returning from the village market, rickety buses expanded by the life of chickens, the freshness of fruits, the wreaking of sweat, the loudness of the roaring engine, the crampness of lives touching so closely and so familiar.

Music is universal and so too is a rhythmic soul
Clapping, smiling, laughing, drums beating, the circle of life unbreakable, children observing their elders,
dogs barking in unison, the earth moving in joyous sound and thunderous movement

There comes a time when the soul will experience far more than it can handle
Though laughter is present, so too is the reality of life so limited, sometimes so harsh, and death is inevitable, regardless where the soul wanders

But what shame that the soul must experience death in a manner that is victimizing, rampant, a terrorist among
the throng of people
It is a means to an end with no real understanding of its purpose
Mothers, fathers, aunt, uncles, grandparents and children will see the end of their lives
Greater number of mothers and fathers will lose their lives early
Grandparents will be left with the children to raise unless they too leave this earth before the children have had
time to grow up in life
The children will wonder what will become of them if all have left them, with nothing to help carry them to their future

Oh, the children...The future without AIDS
Their lives so innocent, so refreshingly alive, and yet what will become of them
Who will dry their tears, who will comfort them during a thunderstorm, who will embrace them when their soul is weary
What will become of them
Does anybody know
Does anybody care

Sometimes the soul must wander into new territory
Sometimes that new territory is familiar
It is the soul that will find a way to help these people to help themselves in living a better life
It is the soul that will need to teach, educate, demonstrate, implement ways that they, the children, the grandparents, those left behind and not afflicted by the enemy of AIDS
It is the soul that must find ways to deplete the destruction of AIDS to so many
and yet other enemies will come calling though they are not welcomed, though they may be familiar

What greater value is there of one's future, the children, as they carry on with the traditions, the culture, the language, the stories, the history
So it must be said that the familiar ways the very soul has interpreted is as their own people, their own families, their own sisters, brothers, aunt, uncles, grandparents, their own likeness yet a world and many miles away from their own

Though the soul is strong in many ways, it simply cannot take on all that is before it, without the asking of other hands, hearts, prayers and resources
The soul is weak without these others
The soul will simply crumble among the monstrosity of the familiar and the enemies
The familiar desires the soul but not for the price of its death, whether in spirit, money, government or in body
The familiar relishes the love and the embracing from the soul in whatever regard

Familiarity is spiritual, is worthy, is appreciative, is a presence so unlike something the soul could ever experience and forget

There comes a time when the soul must wander into new territory
Sometimes that new territory is familiar
The soul asks nothing more than the familiar

I've Become Blind... (2nd go-around for post)

When I think of someone getting old, I don't think of myself.

Have I gone mad? Have I gone blind?

What makes one old in the eyes of another?

When did I begin to realize that I am no longer 25?

What possessed me to remind myself of what I feel like and not what my age may give away?

When did the laugh lines begin to form down and no longer up?

Where in the world does the concept of aging gracefully come from?

Why is there is a difference of standard for aging women versus men?

Why do most women tend to age more uh, shall we say less beautiful with age?

Is this god's sense of humor toward women?

Or was it to continue to boost men's egos up until the very the end?

I sure hope my being Asian will truly be an advantage to me, and so far it has, but will I be one of the lucky ones who ages with beauty over time? Or just the opposite?

Yikes! Imagine me at 65! Hello, world here I come! Wrinkles, flab, gray haired, saggier eyelids, salt and peppered moustache between the nose and upper lip, and a triple chin.

Good thing I already had a face lift before all these things could happen to me at 40. If only I could have afforded to...

So, I guess I've become blind as the years have gone by, but I guess it's helped in the sanity department. Too much too soon would have pushed me over the edge. And not a moment too soon.

So, the secret to aging is not acknowledging it all and just imagining oneself when viewed in a mirror that 'I am the fairest of them all.'

I don't think I will be able to keep up that mantra but hey, I'm alive and that counts for something!

Wind, Rain, Storm...poem by kim (2nd go-around for post)

Wind, whistle away, whistle away, say the swaying trees. We bend, we dance, we stir with passion for the coming rains.

You, wind are the drums that keep the rhythm of the storms to be.

Rain, come down, come down, says the ground below. We await the quenching of our thirst for you, and for the nutrients you provide so abundantly.

You, rain are the pounding of feet dancing around a ring of fire.

Clouds full of moisture, you are the towers that spring forth the water from your silos.

Thunder and lightening, you are the friends who are the life of the storm. You bring excitement, fear, and a beautiful show that can be seen and heard from miles away.

I'm in awe of how all of these instruments come together to create beautiful music from time to time.

I never tire of their company nor of the rich and beautiful gifts in which they each bring with them.

How lucky am I to enjoy the show and applaud the creator who provides the stage for such a production.

Bicycles...photos by kim (2nd go-around for post)

Today is just so beautiful in Chico. Though I would prefer it to be a bit colder and more crisp. But it's not and I needed to enjoy what we have. So I went to One Mile, in Bidwell Park, and took a bunch of photos.

I always have fun just enjoying the smells, the sounds and whatever catches my eyes.

Bicycles seemed to one of the themes while I was out and about. So hope you enjoy!

So Much...photos by kim (2nd go-around for post)

I was only at One Mile the entire time I was shooting photos. There was so much to shoot in just that part of the park alone. I barely covered maybe a sixteenth of Bidwell Park!

Which is so amazing to think about how much land was held as open space for folks from all over to enjoy. And I am one of the lucky ones. I look forward to tracking other parts of the park and seeing what kind of goodies that I will see through the view finder.

There is so much out there to see that I often wonder what it would be like to be blind. I know Helen Keller and many more lived and continue to live such amazing and productive lives. But I wonder some times if I would be able recall such beauty before having gone blind. It seems like I would but then other senses would be highly enhanced due to the loss of one of the senses. So I wonder how I would do. Just a thought..

Old Photos Taken...photos by kim (2nd go-around for post)

Do You See Me? I See You... (2nd go-around for this post)

Sometimes we have the inability to see one another. But most of the time, I believe, we intentionally ignore one another because of our unwillingness to stop and engage beyond a surface level.

How are we to speak to another if the 'Burqa' covers who each of us is? Why not stop and ask to remove the hindrance so that we can honestly and openly communicate with them? Why are we so afraid of each other? What will we lose by taking time to speak beyond just the quick, casual glance of the eye?

Isn't this why we are on earth together? To get to know and understand one another better? How are we to do that if we keep ourselves behind locked doors, behind dark sunglasses? Behind our tinted windows? Behind the magazine at the grocery line?

I feel there would be less people feeling alone if we were just capable of sharing our lives with one another, with an acceptance and permission to be truly open and honest.

This doesn't in no way imply that we will not have days where we will hide behind our own 'Burqa' or of another's. But it is imperative that we take big, small and many moments in our lives to speak eye to eye. So that each sees the other for who each is.

It can be done. I think it needs to continue to be done. And as long as we are on earth with one another, shouldn't we be finding ways to better understand and love one another?

Why Is It?

Why is it when you want something so badly that you ache so deeply that you wonder if you will survive?

Why is it that getting angry is such a good feeling some times? Yet sucks as an aftermath?

Why is it that my daughter feels she has an important duty to whine every single day and for hours at a time?

Why is it that I am still a tomboy but still hate and loathe, really, bugs of all kinds. This is one of my beefs with god...hahaa!

Why is it that when we have become the some thing that we've always wanted to be, and then find it is not all it is cracked up to be...and then still some how try to pretend to ourselves that we are enjoying it and that this is what we always wanted...so just suck it up? Why do we torture ourselves like this?

Why is it that humanity makes it so difficult to be TRULY authentic of a person, especially in terms of sharing one's rawest of emotions, one's rawest of stories that may show a dark side of you, or feel that we have to hide behind such facades in order to be considered 'okay' by what...society? EESH!

Why is it that I have found a place of escapism that makes me keep checking to see if others value me in some way or another?

Why is it that I always have these friggen deep and raw thoughts, and have to resort to writing in in a blog, and wondering if anyone is going to read it or even make a check mark or comment on any postings of mine?

Why is it that self deprecation is not considered a 12 step needed program?

Why is it that my dreams are always so vivid and realistic that I'd rather not sleep than to have to be frozen for those moments, but seem like hours of reality dreams. And then I'm exhausted the next morning?

Why is it that some parents can handle 'twins' and 'triplets' and others like me feel like I'm such a wimp - meaning that I don't take them to the park or swimming or to Chuck e. cheese by myself? I see other parents doing it...

Why is it that I have so many friggen questions that no one is going to answer, yet still feel like they need to be stated?

Why is it that I feel at a loss for when I most need them?

Why is it that others get great breaks and others don't?

Why is it that my son, nate, is the sweetest most lovable teddy bear yet has the patience the size of a mustard seed.

Why is it that matthew will never be ours forever?

Why is it that I am shoving, pushing, hitting, screaming, yelling, crying at/to god when things are good, yet I feel perpetually out of sync?

Why is it that I did get an amazing hubby, but still can be mad as hell at him from time to time?

Why is it that I wear my emotions on my sleeve and now my words and my world in both a virtual and a blogging world?

Why is it that being married is easy yet so silly yet so complicated?

Why is it that I/we can't live in a world that every one accepts everyone for who they are and not put limitations on someone's love for another?

Why is it that I am so damn liberal and yet I have chosen to live such a traditional lifestyle?

Why is it that some of these questions will not or just don't make sense?

Why is it that a new/continued Seinfeld isn't making me laugh heartily anymore?

Why is it that I am so short, yet not called a midget?

Why is it the term midget means midget?

Why is it that I am continuing to ask questions that make no more sense?

Why is it that I can't seem to stop typing these questions?

Why is it that...

For Whom? A Poem

This being that I am was created for something

What I will never truly know

But to say that I have not strived for something greater would be a shame

But to whom? Myself? God?

I don't really understand why I have not accomplished what I consider great things

But it apparently is not for me to know

Why not? I ask.

When and what will it look like if I were to do some thing great

For whom? Myself? God?

I know I am just a piddly little speck of dirt amongst the world of beings

But why must I desire to do great and not accept those things I do as great?

For whom? Myself? God?

I am often told or reminded that I need to be thankful for what I have accomplished

I say I am, but what about my doing great things, I say to myself

For whom? Myself? God?

I have become and still do sometimes feel frustrated when I see others doing great things

And I look at myself and my life and say, what great things have I done?

I have done the usual - married a wonderful man, adopted wonderful kiddles, have security, a home, extended families on both sides, own two cars and one kitty that likes to sleep on my pillow at night.

But I still say, so what? Lots of people have done those very things or have those very things, why am I not doing great things?

For whom? Myself? God?

I have gone round and round with this question for as long as I can remember.

I have tired from it but still can't seem to let go of its ideology for myself.

When all is said and done, I wonder if I will STILL be wondering when and what great things I will do

For whom? Myself? God?

Today I can say I am silly for having this notion but tomorrow I will still ask the same question

When and what great things will I be doing

For whom? Myself? God?

And tomorrow I will hear that I AM DOING GREAT THINGS and to just shut the hell up

But deep down those words are just not enough to hear

Until I hear it from the one that created me

Because it is of that one that I have the beef with and I am wanting to know

For whom? Myself? God?

Mark and Olly and Cultural Anthropology

http://www.travelchannel.com/TV_Shows/Mark_and_Olly

Thanks to my DVR, I have been fortunate enough to have watched the last two series that they have done - The Kombai Tribe and then the Mek Tribe. And now they just finished their third Machigenga Tribe. I so enjoy watching their show, simply because I sooo wanted to become a cultural anthropologist but was told that you can't do much with a Sociology degree at that time, so I changed gears.

As a very young kid, I had seen, on PBS, the documentary about the Yamamamo Tribe and was utterly fascinated by this amazing discovery and what it took to become one with these people, who knew little of the outside civilization beyond their forested jungle. I yearned to one day be one of those who helped discover, learn from, live among and also complete a documentary on such a tribe as the Yamamamo. Then years later, I had purchased a video about a tribe that had never heard the bible nor had their own language written out. And thought that would be amazing also - not only to help develop a tribe's own tongue but to also decipher it into a bible of their own. Even though I thought the bible thing was awesome, I was still more about the other cultural aspects of indegionous tribal life and what can the outside world learn from such a people, myself included!

But looking back at this dream and wishing for so many years that I had been able to really make it become a reality, I also realized that I probably would not have done as well as I gave myself credit, which is kind of sucky to say, but I know, deep down, was true.

For one, I don't have the gift of language, and thus I would have had great difficulty in learning another indigenous' language. Secondly, I am basically deaf in one ear and have only 80% hearing in the other ear, thus the language automatically would be a challenge just on that level, and never mind just trying to learn and decipher a tribe's language. And lastly, I don't know that I would have been a strong enough woman, to enter these tribes and have come out of them making the same kind of strides that Mark and Olly had done nor other anthropologists have done before these two. Many of past anthropologists were men, and were more so widely accepted into an indigenous tribe than would a woman, like myself, would have. And I'd like to think that I would have been able to really have an impact on these amazing and hidden people, but reality strikes like a match, and the burning deep down says, that my match would have blown out long before it even reached it's point of burning down the stick itself.

So disheartening and yet something that I just could not ignore, every time I dreamed, day dreamed or desired such a role among such a people. Even though I know these things about myself, there is still a huge part of me that is extremely fascinated by such an experience that I am hoping in my next life that maybe I'll be granted to do something such as what I'm speaking of...but then maybe not...who knows...BIG SIGH...

So, my life hasn't really gone the way I thought it would, it's not bad at all, but I guess I had hoped for more and had tried to hold myself at a higher place than I was meant for... Perhaps the thought of so many kiddles made it to my stream of consciousness, at such a young age, as to divert me to this propensity of cultural learning, although I would not become a parent until my 40's. So, I'm not sure what all that says, but I still think about what it would be like to be a cultural anthropologist. I even became prompted to meet with the head of the Anthropology department and talk with him about my working in this area of a degree and seeing what it would take to get to where I was looking and wanting to go...But that didn't go any where...

I ended up working with students on the Chico State campus instead. Okay, that in itself is it's own cultural anthropological arena. So, as I look back on my life thus far, I have been able to see
(in hindsight, of course) that I was getting myself into the anthropology of this one subculture, college students. And how...the group that Michael and I lead many were students on the fringe of society. They were the needy, the alcoholic, the gay, those that challenged the christian faith, the bipolar, the rebel, the okay to be called heathens, the has-been christian, with a few more 'normal' christian white america thrown in. So, I guess I can say, that I have been able to work in the cultural anthropological field - it just wasn't what I had in mind many, many, many years ago.

I used to get really angry about not having been able to be an anthropologist but within that anger, I also knew that I was and continue to be made to do something that I am not at all aware of...but that I need to be willing to have humility, continue to be vulnerable and willing to take on what comes my way despite what I desire. My desires are good and applaudible, but not that I was meant to do in this life time. It's taken me years to reach this conclusion and now I am finally okay with it and can move on from here.

I guess I can say that I continue to grow as a human being and continue to evolve, though it would be nice to know a lot more of the details, but that's not the way it apparently is suppose to be...At least in my case...

Virtual or Reality Friends?

So, here I am a momma of three kiddles two of which have weekly therapy, pretty much the same time, the same places, with the same therapists. And when we don't have therapy we play, we watch tv, we sing, we dance, we play in water when it's only 40 degrees outside, we eat meals, we eat snacks, we fight, we cry, we scream, we use the big potty, we beg, we whine, we negotiate, we use momma when we can, we use her as a play structure, we use her as our protector, we get mad at her, we hit her, we bite her, we kick her, we tickle her, we smile at her, we do what all toddlers do to their mommas. So, notice the change in voice as I wrote this?

This is typical of my daily mental formation. It has to be about being a momma, not getting things done because they are fighting, burning dinner because they are underfoot, going to the chiropractor because you are 3/4 the size of your momma. See there I go again. I also think it is attributed to not having a regular and adult conversations with adults that don't include kiddles. My kiddles' therapists - I love what they do for the kiddles, for our household, for our family and for my sanity. But aside from that there just hasn't been enough time spent rambling with another adult in an extensive conversation other than kid stuff.

To say all that I have decided not only am I an addict of Facebook, obviously have needed to get my fix, but that these are real people in the virtual world, with whom I have some amazing conversations with, albeit with minutes and even hours in between each topic. But that's beside the point. Also, I've decided that since I, a woman, apparently have about 25,000 words that I need to use each day, that I am seriously and currently back logged for the next five years at least. Because it hasn't worked out to have a moms group, or a few close friends to get together weekly because of everyone's schedules. So I have resorted to using the virtual world to meet the needs that real friends would give me - if it was a perfect world - so I am engaging in topics ranging from serious to junior high humor, no matter that I have far too many words to share, I just can't seem to meet my minimal quota for the day.

So this blog does help but unfortunately, I don't write on it enough to meet its quota either.

And for some that may be a wonderful thing that I'm not just rambling on about nothing.
Well, actually, I am but that's up to whomever decides for themselves the content of my writings.

So, I'm enjoying the virtual and my reality worlds colliding together.

Reminiscing...

I just wrote out this story below for some one who is going through cancer treatment. And since I was going down memory lane, I thought I'd add it to my blog post. So here you go...

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On a beautiful Spring evening, a group of six of us gals and our small group leader were having an end of the year celebration. Particularly for those of us that were graduating from high school.

Every one was gathered around the table eating dessert and talking. Then our group leader asked the question of the night. "What did you hope to see God do in your future?" I was sharing the piano bench with my closest friend, Erin.

Everyone in the circle was to take a turn answering this question. One of the gals was going really deep and was even contemplating some difficult future issues.

We were all listening so intently that you actually could hear a pin drop, the air was that heavy.

Then I heard a high pitched sound coming from my posterior. I just acted as if nothing happened and hoped that no one heard.

Whew! No one heard and the talk was still heavy with future plans and God.

Then another high-pitched sound came out again, this time with a 1 and a 2 beat to it. Now, I was positive every one heard that one. It was so loud, how could you not?!

Again, no one said anything. By this time I'm trying to squeeze my posterior cheeks to keep from any further noises escaping.

But THEN... A really, really high-pitched noise escaped, this time it was so loud, my face went crimson and I just cringed with embarrassment. Again, no one said anything...Oh, but then someone did and asked what that noise was. My friend, Erin, spoke up and said,'Oh, it was just me rubbing the foot of the piano bench.' I was just dying inside. The person who asked just nodded their head and the talk continued.

But not a second too soon, another high-pitched squeaker came out... and someone had to ask, 'What was that?' Erin, once again, came to the rescue and just apologized for making that sound again. This time, I just couldn't hold it any longer, and I just said to the group, 'No, it wasn't, it was me and I farted.' Erin looked at me for a split second and we just broke out laughing...AND I could not hold in my high-pitched squeak while I was laughing. It just was coming out louder, and louder, and longer and in rhythmic cadence.

Of course, by now, I am just keeling over with laughter and squeaks. And tried so hard to squeeze my cheeks to prevent any more from escaping, but the more I laughed the more and I squeaked. Oh, my stomach hurt so much from the laughter and a bit from the embarrassment.

I think the laughter of all of us, at the table, lasted for a good fifteen minutes or more. I think we were all crying by the end of my fine event... I know I was...

Ah, the predictability of one's body. Or not...

Kiddles

Boy, girl, boy, girl, boy, tom girl, boy, tomboy, girl, boy...

When I was younger I knew I always wanted to have children, twelve to be exact. Because, I got my education from reading the classic 'Cheaper By the Dozen' and watching movies like 'Yours, Mine, and Ours' with Lucille Ball, as well as the other classic 'My Father The Preacher'. Everyone seemed to have a large clan, and so of course, I wanted to also have one as such. I came from a family of seven so that was pretty close to twelve. And besides, in watching and reading all of those educational films and books, I understood that by having at least twelve children you, the parents, got a lot of help from the older kids. And when going out for a Sunday drive, you had to buy one of those cars that had the top down because otherwise not every body would fit in the car, and food just grew on trees since nobody ever went food shopping, so feeding my family of fourteen would be easy as pie. Then since there would be a large span in age between the youngest to the oldest, the oldest would help with supporting the family by getting jobs and using that income for the family. And my future husband would be thrilled to have twelve children since there would be so much help and extra income coming in, so he wouldn't have to work so hard. So, in all he'd think it was a win-win situation. And, of course, so did I!

But sadly that was my reality. But looking at my brood, I think three is a good number for now. We would like to adopt one more but are waiting for our current kiddles to be a bit more available to help us out. Nattie has already shown great signs of being a good helper when she isn't screaming or grabbing something from her brother's possession. Matthew, too, has shown he wants to help but doesn't quite have the same knack as Nattie. So, we're off to a good start when we finally do adopt our last baby. If truth be told, we would stop now if we knew we could keep Matthew forever...But the way things look currently, that is absolutely not going to happen so we're setting our sights on adopting another down the road.

And while enjoying staring at my kiddles for great lengths of time, just to enjoy what's going on in their little brains and taking pride in what they are striving for and accomplishing, makes me realize how these three creatures have come along way and will continue to grow and mature to be the kind of people we hope they were created to be. So, I'm hoping that with maturity and when the time is right for us to obtain a new child to our family, our kiddles will be the wonderful siblings to the newest addition. But we'll see when we cross that bridge...Should be interesting....

But I guess the one thing I have become very grateful for is that Nattie is not only all girl, but she also has a tendency toward being a Tom Girl. She is willing to get dirty, fall down and receive scraped knees and elbows and pick up bugs that the rest of us (Nate, Matthew and Momma) won't touch. So, I'm mighty proud of her and feel very lucky to have such a girl. Because god knows when she hits puberty and she becomes all-girl then I'm going to be totally in learning mode to keep up with her fashion, her makeup, her boy craziness, her need for attention, etc.
I am so opposite of her in this area that I have no clue really how to go about it all. But like I said, I'll be in learning mode and hopefully will have done some of my homework when she has reached the age of girlhood fully. I laugh when I think about those days ahead of me...But I realize I can only be open and willing to work with what she's been given and even take a few pointers from her perhaps...

Nate and Matthew will be boys for sure and I will have a lot to contend with and probably lots of broken body parts along the way. But I am all about bravado and no gain without pain.

But to write all of this and then to finally live it all out will be very interesting to say the least. I do look forward to those days ahead, but am definitely living and loving the moments we are in currently. I already can't believe how much time has passed so far...

All the joys of kiddles. I love it!

I Can...I Think...I Hope...I Pray...Damn! A Poem

I know I can sing.

But does it sound anything like what I hear?

Can you nod once for yes, and nod twice for no?

I need to know.

I know I can sing.

But my kiddles ask me not to.

Does it sound that bad to them or is it distorted by their lack of development?

Can you nod once for yes, and nod twice for no?

I need to know.

I know I can sing.

People have given me accolades after my performance. But was it in truth or just to be kind?

Can you nod once for yes, and nod twice for no?

I need to know.

The birds seem to enjoy my sounds, if they haven't left the tree.

But it is because they are waiting for their next flight plan or just scratching their feet on the bark?

Can you nod once for yes, and nod twice for no?

I need to know.

Babies have giggled, smiled and cood when I sing. But is it because they are gassy, have no muscle control and mimicing only the sounds I was making?

Can you nod once for yes, and nod twice for no?

I need to know.

I know I can sing.

I know I can sing.

I need to know if I can sing.

Will you nod once for yes, and nod twice for no?

I need to know.

I need to know.

I hope I can.

I pray that I can.

Damn!

If I'm having to question so much, I'm thinking I can't. And there just ain't no way around it no matter how many I ask, no matter how much I copy the artist on the radio, no matter how well I think I may do at kaorake, no matter if little grammas give me sweet nothings, no matter if and when the cows do decide to come home.

I need to know.

Can you nod once for yes, and nod twice for no?

I need to know
- because it would meet a great need deep within.
- because I want to be famous for such a talent.
- because I can think of no other gift I'd like than the gift of music to reach the soul of another.
- because I know I can sing and it would hurt too much to know I can't.

Would you just nod once for yes and just leave it at that?

Oh Why!

I have been sitting here with Michael, relaxing, checking out Facebook, my newest addiction.
And we have music playing in the background of which I will stop and listen to what's playing reminisce about the song or the artist or both.

But the longer I've been sitting here and listening, I have returned to the notion that I have always wanted to be a singer. In a stupid and selfish way, I feel like I was jipped in this arena. I know, I know, we are suppose to be grateful for the gifts we were given and not dwell on what we didn't get. But SHIPS AHOY this is definitely one talent or gift that I sooo wished I had been given. I can't emphasize enough the heartbreak I have had over the course of my life, that I was not given this particular talent. I also always wanted to marry a singer - i.e. John Denver, and even dated a guy that looked eerily similar to him but couldn't sing to save his life. Well, there went my dreams out the window of being wooed by a talented singer. Then I met Michael and well, he just swept me off my feet by his good looks and complete willingness to try to understand me, support me and love me for just me being me. Again, no singer but definitely the best catch!

So I didn't get the singer guy, but heck why couldn't I have at least been given an ounce of talent to sing for a career or even for small crowds? That would have at least curbed this longing, this passion this need to sing to an audience of more than myself, and in the shower or car.

I know, I know I could rant and rave about this lack of gifting until the cows came home or until the end times arrive or when hell freezes over. But if it hasn't happened by now, it surely ain't gonna happen in this current lifetime of mine. And that just totally sucks to be me... At least I think so... But what do I know?

What? Huh? What Did You Say?

Okay, I'm realizing that I am spending too much time wondering if any one is going to read my blog. Not because it's great or anything, though the new look is pretty cool. But because I've realized that I have this need to know if people like what I've written. Okay, yes, that is a selfish and egocentric way of thinking. But if I'm honest with myself, then it actually is partially what this blog is about.

One it is a way for me to express myself. As I am better at writing it than articulating it verbally. I was never diagnosed with dyslexia, but I sometimes have wondered in all these years that I may have a mild case of it. I know what I want to say, and can even see the words I want to use, but once it comes out my mouth, well, that's just a whole different story.

Here's a simple example - It is an old one but a classic case for me:

One day, a long time ago, I was trying to tell my friend, Ann, that I had eaten something very yummy. I told her what it was but she was having a problem understanding what it was I was trying to say. She even was asking questions to help me to describe the food item. But I just kept repeating the word, because that was what coming out of my mouth. Well, after about five minutes of confusion, the light bulb went on for her and she just started laughing and could not stop for what seemed like at least five minutes. While she was laughing, I began laughing, though not knowing why I was laughing other than thinking - It was something I said and I wanted to desperately know what it was that was so funny.

Finally after composing herself and trying to reassure me that she wasn't really laughing AT me, she got it through my head that I was saying the food item backwards. I apparently didn't get what she was trying to convey to me but I accepted what she said and tried to say the food item in a more clearer form.

She finally had to ask me, 'do you mean, Fruit Cocktail?' I said, 'Yes, Cock Fruit Tail!' So happy that she finally figured out what I was trying to say. And she said it again, 'Fruit Cocktail, Kim'. And I said, 'Yes, it was Cock Fruit Tail, sheesh!'

Then BANG! like lightening hits a tree - it totally struck me that I was utterly making a fool out of myself by what I was saying.

I had been saying Cock Fruit Tail and I had no clue. Thankfully, she was so patient and sweet about it, though we did have a good laugh at my expense. Oh, well!

So, even to this day, I have transposed that canned fruit name many a times, and many a times probably didn't even realize it.

So in the twenty years that Michael and I have known each other, I have transposed a lot of words in our conversations. And we've gotten a lot of mileage from those incidents.

With all of that said, I just needed a place to get my thoughts down, my emotions in check and hopefully some one out there will enjoy what I write about. But if they don't well, I'll get over it.
I hope... :0}

But if I remind myself the deeper reason of why I have created this blog, which was to express myself through the written word, then I really don't have the need to know what others think.
And so I will just enjoy the process of writing and leave my need for personal gratification of others' opinions aside.

Me, The Dogs, and My Other Compadres...

Nate is an animal lover, especially with dogs. He is just so sweet and loving with them, though the dogs don't always know or understand that. But more often than not, most of the dogs let him do what he will with them and then seem to realize it wasn't so bad.

Nate gets so tickled when he sees a dog especially if the dog is willing to chase him around, lick his face and enjoy Nates amount of rambunctiousness.

I loved this threesome of Nate and had meant to frame them. Apparently that never happened so I had to write about it instead. I can't believe these photos were taken in '07. It's just amazing how quickly time has passed and how much Nate has grown since then.

Despite the foreboding events of the said terrible twos, there is also so much learning, silliness, joy, and great fun during this time. I have actually loved this period despite some rough bumps, and some screaming, yelling and laughing moments.

There still is nothing like this time. It is just a learning experience for all involved. And I know I would not change any of it. Well, okay, I guess I would change a few things but they are minor and thus don't really matter in the scheme of things.

One other thing, the greatest experience is having three very different kiddles at the same age, showing me how much each is truly an individual and each has different needs and has different desires. But the one main thing they all have in common is that they just want to be loved. And with that - I have more love than I could have ever imagined for just one much less three kiddles.

Thank you Nate, Nattie AND Matthew for letting Daddy and I to love you all together and individually. We could never have imagined that you three would make up our family let alone our hearts. Thank you to each of you. I will always love you - Your Momma

Freaking Weird...

Okay, now I get it...

I'm realizing that I've had to live close to half my life before I could even begin to truly understand the ways my brain will still plays games with me. My brain making me think, feel and even act as though I am still in my twenties, yet the 'back to reality' side of the brain reminds me that I actually am forty plus one and that is the trickery of this ol' brain that has taken me back to those feelings, those moments and those events of my twenties.

I've caught myself doing that and I must say it was a freaking weird feeling, and a depressing (for a few moments) realization when I came out of that trance-like state or far away place and time.

Life is such an interesting process to say the least...

And getting older is apparently no picnic either...

Me, Myself and What I Strive To Be...

So, here I am in my early 40's and kind of reassessing life once again. I did this very same thing in my 30's and it proved to be a lot of hard work, rewarding emotionally and spiritually, as well as helping me to not be complacent about my life and where I am headed. I have no idea exactly where I am headed but I know that with out doing any of the hard work, to better myself, I know I would have had a lot more struggles, much more animosity against others, and feel worse about who I was becoming, and who I am on a daily basis.

I can't say that a specific person helped me in any of this but I can say that it was a make up of many people, many events, and a faith that reminded me that I had much to lose and much to gain by taking the steps I did to make amends, to live with a large dose of humility, ask for help without feeling like a burden, and continuously ask myself what areas can I work on to feel like I am becoming the person I feel I was created to be.

That faith I had once before in my 30's has changed tremendously. But I still consider some amount of faith in order to go forward and be what my husband needs me to be, as well as my three kiddles.

I've always been one who worried what people thought of me. I wanted so much to please people, to make the choices they wanted me to make and be sure they knew I appreciated what they did for me. But I know that more often than not, I'd have also very much disappointed those very people by my lack of discipline and procrastination. As I write this, I realize that I often felt a sense of expectation, pressure or what have you - and I'm sure it was I who put that on myself, thus I put off what I should have been doing, which was to please them.

Michael would say I am hard on myself, which is very true, but the pleaser in me seemed too often to be in conflict with myself. In wanting to do the right thing, I'd end up wasting time worrying about getting or saying or creating just the 'right' thing so that I would continue to be in good standing. It's such a psychological game and one I have worked very hard to lessen. BUT the poison is still there I have fallen in to the trap of doing it once again. All I know is that I am better than I was before but it still pisses me off that I still do it. Ugh!

My writing these thoughts help me to see that I'm still evolving. I know I will continue to move forward because I have chosen change over complacency.

One of the persons I want to be is giving my time, my heart, my words, my ears, my understanding to others who have little or no contact with others that take the time for these very things. Or to just be one more person who is interested in the life of another. I have been drawing inspiration from a friends mom, who would make food for the homeless weekly, I believe, and would just hang out and talk with people on the street, providing them not only a meal but conversation and eye to eye contact, that sense of actually existing. I have dreamed many times that I had the kind of money to provide a meal a week to the local street people in Chico. And it is something that I will continue to strive for as my kiddles get older. But I also want them to be a part of this active participation in our community, so that they can have an understanding of what others' lives are like beyond the lower and middle class of our society.

I pray that my kiddles will know, see and experience things of our society that are not all tidy and white America.

It Was Good To Be Young - A Very Simple Poem

The smell of fried chicken wafts throughout the house. Mmmm!

Charlie nips at my heels to take him outside since I'm no louse.

Yesterday pizza, tomorrow pork chops - two meals that I really can't stand.

The washing running, the dryer done, my mom and I playing Candyland.

My siblings are busy, driving to and fro, today is house cleaning, oh no!

My job is to vacuum and dust the whole house, I give it some effort but I feel like going out.

Beef jerky is drying in the oven, one of my favorite treats, I wonder when it will be ready for all of us to eat.

Gymnastics at age six, ballet taken too, soccer at eight and and tennis at ten. But what I really became known for was tennis then.

School was not easy, counting change even more tough, but mom made sure that I couldn't get enough. The summers were for reading and writing book reports, and making me cry was our family dinner repertoire.

Being short among so many so tall, I never lost perspective of where I would fall.

The pecking order I did not like but it was what it was, and forever I am grateful for all the love there was.

My childhood was good, and at times seemed hard but these memories I now hold I simply can not disregard.

As I write this all down, it sure was fun, I am reminded of how good it was to be young.

Is This The Start Of One's Mid Life Crisis?

Man, I've been laying in bed just thinking...and I can't seem to stop the thoughts. For the past two hours I have been going through flashbacks of my much younger years. So much so that I had to get up and write it down in hopes it is somewhat intelligible.

My first memories was recalling the lay out of my elementary school. It was just so weird to be thinking about all the details that I could envision, the number of classrooms, what classroom specifically I was in at various grades. I recalled where the various bathrooms were and the water fountains, as well as fondly remembering all of my teachers. Then I recalled the few spaghetti dinners my mom allowed us to go to. I had to somewhat beg her to go to a spaghetti dinner here or there because she couldn't stand those kinds of school functions, especially having been the last of her five kids. She thought she was out of the woods with those events. Sorry, Ma, to have had to put you through it all over again!

Then...my mind wandered off to when my parents took me to Europe with them, specifically to Austria for a three week vacation. It was the summer of my third year at the local junior college. Wow! I saw myself walking in the woods of the little village we called 'home base' for the three weeks. I was transported back to my room I shared with a girlfriend, that my parents allowed to come with us. The great conversations we had there, the smell of the clean, air-dried feather beds we slept on and those that also covered us. The recollection of just walking the narrow streets of this village and being amazed that I was across the globe, thanks to my parents, and enjoying the amazing Austrian Alps. I was in heaven and singing, quite literally, the 'hills are a live with the sound of music!' Oh, what fun and such freedom I felt among this amazing and beautiful Austrian village. It was truly breathtaking for me... As I write all of this, I realize that I still go back to that time when things get rough in side me and I feel a sense of freedom, happiness, and awe at all that I experienced and enjoyed while there. Thank you, Ma and Pa!

My next movie frame is the old house we used to live in. I pretty much grew up in the house on Palmyra Street. We came to Auburn when I was six and then we moved from that house, so my parents could build their new, architecturally designed and energy efficient home, across town, until my junior year in high school.

Of late, I have been back to this house a thousand times. I've had many dreams of it in various perspectives from when I was really young and where I am now in life. It's been very eerie actually. There have been times those dreams were SO vivid that I was actually reliving those moments, those periods of time and I recall not wanting to awake from my state of dreaming. I remember being happy, carefree, playing outside until it was time to come in for dinner, doing gymnastics on the front lawn, and looking for our dog Charlie when he got out of the house or back yard.

I was remembering where my mom parked her blue Mercedes and where my dad parked his red Mercedes. I remember the days when much of my family would play baseball together in our huge back yard. Or when I got in trouble for riding my bike in the street, after being told I could not, and being sent to my room. I was so mad, not because I couldn't ride my bike, but because my friend Brennan was suppose to be coming over to play with me, and here I was being punished in my room, with the window that faced the patio where the basketball hoop was kept. And I had to watch Brennan shoot baskets without me. What a ding-a-ling.

I loved the times when my brother Dan and I would throw the football or tennis ball in the middle of the street. And always knew he was so proud of me because I threw a ball like a boy and could throw it pretty far for a girl. But when it came to basketball, he was the white man's version of Kareem Abdul Jabar! At least he always thought so (I just chuckled as I wrote that). Unfortunately, I was not made to play basketball with any real significant talent, but that didn't matter to my brother, we just had a good time hanging out, and he showing off all of his shots.

I always called myself the roller skating queen, simply because I thought I was.
I loved to roller skate and during those days, kids were allowed to go anywhere and come home at a specific time. I would roller skate down our hill toward the local recreation park. Actually, I was afraid every time I skated down that hill, simply because I feared I would totally biff it before I got down the bottom of the asphalted road and it would bloody hurt. But fortunately I always made it and was off and skating to my hearts content. Now I was never ashamed about falling or having fallen in front of others simply because I knew I was a good skater and that when I fell, I had just done a stupid mistake or tripped on a small pebble I hadn't seen, etc. So my pride was never hurt. I would just laugh it off. I still do that to this day.
One of the best part was when the gym would be open to skaters and then the REAL skating began. This automatically transported me back to when the music group ABBA was huge. Roller skating was huge during this time and the ultimate fun was when the local gym would have skating hours. This was a time when much of our neighborhood kids would come hang out. We'd rock and roll to ABBA, do some serious speed skating and crash in to each other. We'd be sweating and have to go into the girls' bathroom and dry ourselves off from all the sweat that had poured forth on our bodies. Wow! What memories... "Dancing Queen, only seventeen..."

So, as of late, I don't know why I have been thinking about all of my childhood adventures. I keep wondering if other people my age are having these episodes as well or is it just me? Is it the beginning to my mid-life crisis? I just keep wondering and guessing but have no answers, yet is so fascinating to me. I am thoroughly enjoying this trip and look forward to more sleepless nights and memories to relive.

I've been up since 2am now and am realizing this is not good. Not good at all. I've got two 2 years-old to keep up with (now) today. So, I better hit the hay for a little cat nap. Thankfully, the kiddles are not early risers. Yippee!

Listen... Wake Up... Be There...

Listen... to the still voices deep within you.

Listen... as the wind himself whispers your name in times of sadness.

Listen... to those whose words are encouraging and meaningful to you.

Listen... while your child chatters a conversation you are not a part of.

Listen... to those whose stories have yet to be heard and desiring to be told.

Wake up... to the passions of others as they share with out words.

Wake up... with the intention of making changes that you thought not possible.

Wake up... and help another feel they are worthy of their existence, despite their current situation.

Wake up... with the heart to use your hands and your words : to make a difference beyond your front door, beyond the shopping mall, beyond the church walls, beyond the shopping cart in front of you - To someone standing next to you, in front of you, next door to you and even behind you. There is always someone who needs to know they are valued, they are important, they are not alone...

Be there... despite being uncomfortable with the task at hand. It's not about being comfortable, it's about going beyond yourself for the sake of another.

Big Boy!

Nate has had a lot of interest in using the little potty, but not enough to take his pants off and sit. He will only sit with his clothes on.

But just the other day, he finally asked to sit on the big potty. He climbed up and almost in, but I got him settled and he knew he had to make sure his penis was pointing into the toilet, so he checked that and then just sat and smiled.

I encouraged him to try to go and voila! he went and he was soooooo excited. He took some toilet paper and wiped himself and well, he couldn't have been more proud of himself. We finished the process, did a round of high fives and then did the potty dance! I wish I had the camera rolling. It was so cute. And Nattie cheered him on for doing it all by himself.

It's the simple things in life that make one remain grounded.

My life is simple, but feels complicated, but continues to give me bits of sweetness throughout. Aaah. How sweet it is...

My Little Valentines

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

My, How My Kiddles Have Grown...

Make a Smilebox photobook

Aaaah, Nothing Like A New Look To Be Inspired By...

Well, after many attempts, I finally have a look for my blog that I am happy about. Poor Michael worked hard to get a really cool layout but in the end it didn't do what I wanted it to do...So, I searched far and wide and found, as well as figured out how to create what I wanted...

Hope you will enjoy spending some time here, while I ramble on about life, about people, about my kiddles, and whatever else happens with me and my life as I know it.

I look forward to some thoughts and writings that will come forth via inspiration.

New Year, New Look

Wow, didn't realize it had been so long since I last wrote on this blog.
So, I have decided since we all get to start over fresh, with the new year and all - that I would freshen things up here with a new look, and update the photos, and any new and interesting stories, tidbits, etc.

So come on back and I'll be thinking of things to write about.

See you soon....