Author Archives: Kami

Just Wondering

Question mark icon, blue

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Why?

Why?

Why?

Ah, one of the great mysterious questions.

“Why.”

It seems one of the first questions children ask.  And ask, and ask, and ask.

The other question children pose is “What’s that?”

“Where,” “who” and “when” come later in life.  Those must be concepts that require different developmental milestones.

“Why” and “What’s that” continue to be questions throughout childhood and especially into teen years.

As an adult “Why” and “What’s that” are preeminent. They actually constitute the bulk of our thinking, our decision-making, our emotional equilibrium or lack thereof, our spirituality, our love life, our family dynamics.

English: Question-mark icon

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Of course in the grown up world the questions come out a little differently.

“Why me?”

“What the heck?”

Those are just two iterations of the same sentiment.

Then there is “Why is this happening this way, and why now?”

There’s the precarious “Why not?” which carries the possibility of putting someone over the edge either direction; into extreme behavior, or into action one has put off far too long.

Asking “why” about others will only bring you grief and confusion and heartache.  Usually.  However, if the answers you get are true and clear and open, it might lead to understanding, but that is a rare and tenuous thing.

“What’s this and what am I going to do about it” are a healthy combination to ask together.  Logic is trying to take the lead in a question like this.

How often does logic really win out in our lives though?

Probably not often enough.

Hmmm. I wonder why.

I’m back to asking “why” again, about so many things. I hate when I get this way. I prefer my less ascerbic self, my optimistic self, my non-sarcastic self. “Why” seems to bring out the worst in me.

Maybe the best answer should always be, “just because,” or “because I said so.”

Question mark

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But why? I’ll usually ask.

Why me?

Why now?

Why this?

Why?

Why?

Why.

Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Bridges on the Path

Another photo from a shared walk with my cousin last year.  A month later I actually crossed this bridge and took the less traveled rocky ledge of a path.  So glad I did.

bridge over Queen Creek“The most precipitous chapter of life always begins before we quite know it is under way.”

-Morrie Morgan, from Ivan Doig‘s “Work Song

Funny how life doesn’t give us any road signs, warnings, ominous theme music, or any other clues that some big change is waiting around the corner. Life is not like a movie at all. It’s simply putting one foot in front of the other, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.

Sometimes we have a choice to take one path or another, never knowing the outcome of what the other path might have brought us to.  That’s all probably for the best.

I am glad my path has taken me here to where I am right now. What bridges lay ahead of me? Don’t think I want to know.  Whatever maps I might create or use to plan the road ahead will be rendered useless by life’s fickle sense of humor, fate’s sense of irony and God’s will for me.

I breath in. I breath out. I enjoy what I can and love as much as possible. I give my best.

I keep walking.

Enjoy your journey.

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Starting Over: A Little Piece of Fiction

In this week’s Daily Post Writing Challenge, we’re asking you to write a short piece of creative writing (fiction/poetry/prose poetry/freeform mindjazz/whatever floats your boat) on the theme of Starting Over.
Drop Starting Over on your page and see where it takes you.

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Starting over was what she did all too often. Scrounge for boxes, pack up stuff, tape and seal, haul and load, clean and leave.

packing up

packing up (Photo credit: Joanna Bourne)

Then reverse the process, arrive and clean, haul and unload, rip open, unwrap, and unpack.  Then the decision: store the flattened boxes for the next inevitable move, or recycle them and scrounge again when the time came.  Neither decision carried any assurance, or saved any work.

Sooner than she’d want she’d be back at it, finding boxes, packing, taping, hauling, loading, cleaning, leaving. Once again, she’d find herself arriving, cleaning, unpacking, starting over, settling in very lightly.

Starting over was something she’d have earned a degree in if it were a college major. She should be a pro by now, but she wasn’t.

She had always dreamed of a settled, permanent place called home. But she refused to admit it out loud. The disappointment would be more tangible if she did.

The first few months after starting over she resisted putting out personal effects, choosing instead to leave them in boxes, stacked and stored.  She certainly wouldn’t hang curtains or put up pictures.  That jinxed things immediately.

It was what they did.  It was the path they had put themselves on years ago.  It wasn’t really running.  It was simply not staying.

Planting something in the yard all but guaranteed there would be a move before the plant came full circle, bloomed, self-seeded, volunteered again the next season.

Wildflowers in Death Valley National Park

Wildflowers in Death Valley National Park (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In a way she was a wildflower seed, except she was the seed that blew across the top soil with a breeze and landed far down the road, in an unpredictable, unusually rocky untilled soil. Waiting for dust, rain, a thin grip on ground so she could grow clingy roots.

It was wearing her out.  She wanted to stop.

Maybe someday she would say it out loud.  “No more.”

Sure she would.

Probably not.

There was never any choice anyway.  Saying “no” would make no difference in the outcome.

Someday, yes, someday she’d get planted deeply and stay forever. Then she might flower.  Then she would rest.

But that wasn’t likely to happen for a long while. And so, she continued starting over and starting over and starting over.

Categories: Uncategorized, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Electric Love

It’s Gratituesday! Today I am grateful for one of the most brilliant gifts I ever received.  You can’t imagine how surprised I was several years ago to unwrap a twin-sized electric blanket as one of my Christmas gifts from MSH.  We have a king-sized bed. A twin-size anything made no sense.  But then it did.

Master Suite - King Size Bed with Jungle View

The vast expanse of a King Size Bed! (Photo credit: Grand Velas Riviera Maya)

The blue fluffy wire-lined blanket fit perfectly on my half of the bed. I discovered that very night the wisdom of such a gift.

MSH slumbers in a well chilled, open windowed bedroom, fresh air pouring over his overheated, restless body. For good measure he runs the ceiling fan as well.  In such an environment I can only toss and turn and freeze, no matter how many blankets get heaped on top of me.  But now, ah yes, now with my gift of electric heated bliss, I can choose to have the warmth of a cat snuggling up to me, or I can bask in the heat of a Sahara summer, or any climate in between.

This isn’t a winter only gift.  Oh, no not at all. It is after all Phoenix, complete with heat islands and asphalt. Summers here are a sweltering desert. To survive we have air conditioning everywhere.

(Except for my car, usually the AC goes out on the first day of July.  Not sure why.  The infamous Tilby family car curse? But, I digress, that is another post.)

Unlike most households, we don’t just bring the temperature down to cool. MSH chills the house to the point that we all wear sweaters inside, except him. It’s comfortable for MSH and that is important.  We love him and want him comfy, too. At night, the thermostat gets set even lower.  As a result, my electric blanket often gets used in the summertime as well. Ah, sweet slumber.

I do think the electric blanket saved our marriage. Or at least it keeps me from finding another room to sleep in. Which would have made MSH feel sad and lonely, which would make me sad.  His inspired gift to me makes me love him even more, and reminds me nightly of his consistent thoughtfulness in so many other ways.

All hail the lowly blue blanket, plugged in and enhancing relationships a few precious degrees at a time.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Lambchop and the Borg

So it’s day eight of an apparently eternal cough.  I am a mere newbie from all reports I’ve read or heard.

LAMB CHOP

Isn’t Lambchop a sweetie? (Photo credit: happydacks)

To paraphrase a lovely puppet from the sixties, Lambchop, “This is the cough that never ends, it just goes on and on my friend, somebody started coughing once not knowing what it was and they’ll continue coughing now forever just because this is the cough that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends, somebody started….”

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

I’ve heard from some that it only lasts two weeks.  MSH has been battling the crud since before Christmas. I read of one who’s been hacking since the dawn of time, Thanksgiving. My doctor said nine days. How did she come up with nine days? Why nine, not eight, or twelve.  She probably figured by day nine I would have lost track of what day it was (I have) and I wouldn’t care anymore (I don’t.) Smart doctor.

star trek borg race Star Trek Exhibit at Queen...

“Resistance is Futile” So is cough suppressant! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apparently this evil abomination of a cough laughs in the face of antibiotics, chortles at inhalers, becomes maniacal at the introduction of steroids. To quote the Borg from Star Trek, “Resistance is futile.” In other words, cough suppressants are useless, too.

I had a little run in with an over-the-counter cough suppressant that failed to warn me of the possible hallucinations, nausea, light-headedness and chills that would accompany the promised temporary cessation of cough. I know I should have googled it before taking it, but I was already beside myself.  Or at least I was beside my lung, which I had hacked up during the previous few coughing bouts.

At least during the next eighteen hours of coughing I wasn’t quite so freaked out by it because I was, by all accounts, high as a kite!!

The dreams I have between hacking sessions are bizarre and frightening. Perhaps that explains my earlier references to Lambchop and The Borg in the same blogpost.

I’ve resigned myself to living out my remaining days in my robe and slippers, of which I have two choices. My boss, bless her generous heart and sense of humor, gave me a leopard print robe and leopard print slippers as a Christmas gift. So now I can be stylishly near death’ s door.

Leopard Rug

Leopard Rug (Photo credit: Curious Expeditions)

When that robe gets too germ infested I can wash it and wear my puffy blue cloud print robe which matches where my head is at and where I hope to end up should this cough dispense my other lung on the floor.

I have come to one conclusion through this.  Hell is not a fiery pit, it is a coughing fit.

I have a few last words for you.  Hand Sanitizer. Vitamin C. Zinc Tablets. Face Mask.

Be well and may your immune system stay strong!

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Do You Know the Time?

I took this photo while exploring the Boyce Thompson Arboretum near Surprise, Arizona a few months ago. It was time well spent. Then I ran across this quote yesterday and knew I needed to share it.

sundail

“Years are only garments and you either wear them with style all your life, or you go dowdy to the grave.”

                                                                                     – Dorothy Parker

Not sure how stylish I am in how I wear my years.  I think I lean toward the dowdy side.  Not what I’d prefer.  I’ll have to think about what it means to be stylish in years and get back to you.

In case you were wondering, the quote on the sundial says: “Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.”  Not sure how I feel about that one either. Hmmm.

Categories: Gardening, Wondering | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

Navigating Through Life the Traffic School Way

A traffic school for navigating through life sounds like a good idea to me. Anything that helps me avoid a big fine, a penalty, some heartache, frustration or pain seems like a great idea.

So I’ve come up with a few rules of my own.  Having done some significant amount of traveling, I figure maybe I’m somewhat qualified. At the very least, I need the reminders myself.  I’ll work on the slide show presentation later.

Old Truck

Old Truck (Photo credit: cindy47452)

  • Avoid rush hour if possible, morning and evening.

The sun is always at a bad angle at rush hour, low in the sky and in your eyes, or reflecting in your side or rearview mirror.  I aim for the middle ground when possible.  I can legally use the HOV lane between nine and three. I can easily change lanes, merge, keep space between me and some yo-yo on his phone.  This works in real life too.  Trying to do what everyone else is doing, when they’re doing it isn’t always the best course of action. Be yourself.

  • Don’t text and drive. Don’t drink and drive.

That’s a no brainer isn’t it?  Likewise, don’t drink and be online.  You’ll regret whatever you put online while under the influence.  An emotional crash, a friend bender, relationship dents, are all possible outcomes when you’re online under the influence. You are not wiser, wittier, more honest or pleasant when you’ve had a few too many. Angry texts and online rants aren’t generally productive either.

  • Use a map, or at least have one with you.

I used to always have a map in the car.  I used to always have a plan for my life, for my day, for my week, for the next hour.  Sometimes your plan just needs ditching and you need to take a detour. If so, go for it. You’ve got a map to get you back on course when you’re ready. Sometimes you need to stick to the planned route no matter what.  Only you know which it is.  It’s also okay to ask directions, get a different perspective, especially from someone who knows the terrain.

  • Have a contingency plan if you get separated.

Staying in touch is always a good idea. A weekly email to your sister, a phone call to mom or dad, a text to your brother, an instant message to a friend, an ongoing Scrabble game with your cousin. There’s also actual handwritten letters, not to mention live and in person visits. Don’t let those distances grow too far apart. Those connections are what really count. That’s what the drive is really all about.

Another closed rest area.

Another closed rest area. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • Stop for bathroom breaks more often than you think you need to.

I can tell you from experience, breakdowns happen and you don’t want to be squatting on the side of the road, no matter how big the bushes might seem.  You think you can go full throttle through your day with no breaks, no feet up, no ten-minute nap, but you can’t and you shouldn’t.  Step outside and breath real air, go up and down the stairs a couple of times, drink a bottle of water, actually go to the bathroom, do some deep breathing, read a page or two of a book, rest your eyes, do a few stretches.  Give your brain and body a break here and there and then you can put the pedal to the metal for a while longer.

  • Bring snacks, CDs and water.

Snacks provide entertainment value sometimes, but they also provide memories.  See my post about the Lonely Duck for proof of that one.  What’s a road trip without licorice, peanuts and m&m’s?  Not a real road trip.  Pop some music or a great audio book in the CD player and enjoy. Sometimes it’s the little things that make the difference, don’t ya think? A handful of laughter, a little dollop of whipped wonder or a spoonful of silliness, can make all the difference in life.

A typical speed limit sign in the United State...

A typical speed limit sign in the US showing a 50 mph restriction. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • It’s okay to go slower than the speed limit.

Now there’s a revelation!  That number on the sign says it’s a LIMIT.  Not a suggested speed, but a maximum speed.  I know this is a new concept to most drivers.  It’s also okay to not race through your life.  Just because everyone else has their kids in fifteen afterschool events per week doesn’t mean you have to do the same with your kids.  Your to-do list could have one item on it, and that’s okay. Take life at the speed you’re comfortable with.

  • Take the scenic route occasionally, or at least take a different route.

Studies show, (okay I made that up, but it’s true) that a change of scenery is a great plan.  You don’t have to up and move to another state, like I did six times, for a change.  Maybe the change you need is simply a change in routine, or a change in how you react to traffic, or a change in how many breaths you take per minute, or a downshift in the urgency you place on whatever it is you’re doing. Smell those roses, pick those daisies, walk on that grass, take that photo, touch the wet paint, turn right instead of left!

road rage

road rage (Photo credit: Robert S. Donovan)

  • Don’t yell at, aggravate, cut-off, or flash random hand gestures at drivers.

I still talk to the traffic way too much, but I have changed how I talk.  I say quietly to myself  things like, “I sure hope his wife doesn’t deliver those twins before they get to the hospital.” Or I wish them well in “getting to a bathroom before the food poisoning hits full force.” I figure there’s a reason behind what people do, no matter how aggravating it is to me.  I also try to cut myself some slack when I’m the irritating person.  I try to say kinder things to myself, give myself credit for what I do right, instead of focusing on the few things I think I’m failing at.  Kindness never hurt anyone, in fact it often helps.

So, class…did I miss anything?  Would you add any pointers to my Traffic School Advice?  Let me know in the comments below.

Don’t forget to buckle up and have a nice trip!

Categories: Humor, Traffic | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Mason Jars Filled with Do Overs

“If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do, is to save every day ’til eternity passes away just to spend them with you.”

– Jim Croce

MSH thinks going back in time and reliving his life sounds wonderful.  Many people I’ve asked agree with him. Give them a second chance at life, they’d take it!

Me? No, thank you! End of discussion. No way.

Well, one way, maybe.  If I could remember everything from my first time through, then sure, I’d be willing to face my childhood, puberty, early marriage, and every other stage of my life with confidence.  But without my memories, my hard-earned learning curve intact, there’s no way I’d have a do over.

Too many regrets, that’s why.

A Kerr mason jar

A Kerr mason jar (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For instance. Instead of letting my eighteen month old son cry himself to sleep laying next to his bedroom door, I’d let him fall asleep snuggled in my arms on the couch every single night until he decided he preferred his bed.  Call me foolish.  I don’t care. I can still see his little tear streaked sleeping face peeking out under the gap between the floor and the door.

I’d have bought those Wizard of Oz sparkly red shoes for my youngest. I wouldn’t have put off getting that sailor dress my daughter wanted. I would have asked more questions, assumed less, pried more, talked directly, been less afraid.

Instead of anxiously awaiting the day my kids would start school I’d clean the house less and play with them more.

My own teenage years were a horror story of stupid decisions, bad behavior, rebellion and embarrassment.  I’d just completely remake myself.  I’d be friendly and outgoing instead of trembling and introverted.  I’d care less about what everyone else thought about me and wonder more about how they felt and how I could help. I’d complain less to my mom and help out more.  No, really, I would.  I’d soak in every moment of being young and healthy and energetic.  I’d run with more abandon, sing louder, laugh longer, smile more often, tell jokes, be nicer to my sisters and tell my brothers that I thought they were cool.

If I could have time in a bottle…pretty much everything that happened from day one until now would be different.  I’d be different.  In fact, I wouldn’t even be me anymore, would I?

That’s a scary thought. A hopeful thought. A weird thought.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

Or I’d change everything.

After harvest - jars of glass filled with honey

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Forget Comfort Foods, Try This Instead

Comfort foods.  I could wax poetic about all the varieties, textures, tastes, emotions and colors of myriad edibles.  So could you.

Have you ever considered “comfort memories?”

It’s self-explanatory.  Here’s an easy example.

My son can put himself to sleep by remembering himself through a specific ski run at a specific resort.  Recalling the swoosh of the snow under his board, the bite of the cold across his cheeks, the trees as they blur past, the feel of his muscles as he moves to catch a curve and negotiates the bumps and jumps, all combine to relax and calm him into a deep and restful sleep.

Nice way to put yourself to sleep, huh? I think so.

I have a way of relaxing myself when I’m feeling ill or in pain that, if I remember to remember it, works very well to comfort and ease my body and mind. It’s rooted in how I was cared for as a child when I was sick. It’s definitely a comfort memory.

Asleep on the couch

Asleep on the couch (Photo credit: geekdreams)

I recall pillows propped on the dark green couch, blankets tucked around me, with the TV on low and bluish across the room.  I remember the smell and taste of the concoction Mom would mix. It consisted of a bit of warm water, a spoonful of paregoric, and some sugar.  It was a licorice smell and taste, somewhat bitter, but eased by that spoonful of sugar.  My tummy always settled out if I was nauseous, my sore throat eased.  Sleep came easier in spite of noise or fever or pain.  I can still feel the coolness of the pillowcase as she turned my pillow to the cool side when my fever was high.  There would often be a cool cloth on my forehead and smoothed across my hands and arms, pulling the heat from my body and sending a swell of relaxation through my tired, aching limbs. Even if she was only checking my fever, Mom’s hand on my cheek let me feel cared for, loved and safe.

If I can conjure that image, those sensations, then I can settle into a rest that reminds me of that love.  I can relax and let the discomfort of whatever hurts lift away from me, even if only momentarily.

To know such care and comfort should fall to every child.  Every adult should be able to pull from the library of memory such a book, filled with tales of love and triumph.

What memories bring peace to you?  Is there anything you can recall from childhood, or adulthood, that on remembering, brings comfort, peace, joy, relaxation, love?

Categories: Family, Love, Memory Lane, parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

A Life in Three Parts

A diagram showing layers within the Earth's ma...

A diagram showing layers within the Earth’s mantle and core (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Peel back the layers.

A crust of clothing disguises.

A mantle of skin, muscle, and bone

Houses and protects.

A core of Spirit,

Essence,

Soul,

Refined matter,

The Life-giving center,

Lasts somewhere,

Forever.

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This post was written as a Trifecta challenge response.  Please check out their site and see what great stuff they’re generating from writers.

Categories: Poetry, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

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