That Holiday Feeling

Growing up I was mostly ever surrounded by Christians and Jews or people who lived a more Christian or Jewish slant to their lives, which meant that this time of year was always full of holiday something. And we talked about and understood the concept of tolerance. We had trees and menorahs and Kwanzaa would usually find its way into the mix as well. Inevitably, there was always the disgruntled and dismayed peer who was personally offended at the materialism of the holiday season. They would self-righteously lament about how awful gifts were, so much it made me wonder if they never got the ponies or airplanes they wanted as children. Most of us would lend them our ear but not more than that.....Holidays were stressful to some of us and wonderful to others, all depending on how high an expectation you built, and how you used the semblance of joy to reflect upon your own inner peace.

But one thing that surprises me, and angers me a little, is some of the blatant and utter disrespect that I have heard of late in relation to Christmas. I think I have been experiencing something almost akin (forgive the drasticness of comparison) to what a white person experiences when around all white people when someone boldly utters a racist comment. A number of individuals lately have jokingly and seriously slandered Christmas while in my presence, with the confidence and ego of people who think everyone is on the same page as them-not Christian. And though I am not strictly Christian, the holiday is sacred to me, always will be. And the level of intolerance, particularly from a mouth of a person that more than likely considers themselves tolerant, astounds me.

It also has led me to more deeply define the holiday and brought to an even clearer light the power we have to make of something what we will. What surprises me is the absolute certainty others have that if something isn't special or important to them, that it could not possibly be special for others. Even worse, that these people who can't relate to an event would seek to demean the event for others by implying that those who celebrate it are perhaps shallow or stupid. I understand the idea of feeling left out. I understand the feelings of alienation. But that that should lead to callous mocking and insults is....ugly.

I have always been aware that my own particular attachment to holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas have been about my own thankfulness for things I once did not have-family, for one. Friends for another. Not to sound too dramatic, but I did have a good 6 years of life without family, and being able to spend time with people who love me who are also my family is something I will never stop appreciating. Laying in bed at night without a mom and dad at all is not something you forget just because. My family in particular, gets a real kick out of gifts because it's a show of love, not because we are needlessly entrenched in materialism. My sister got me a gift certificate to Whole Foods this year, because she KNOWS me. Knows my needs and is cognizant of what she can do as a sister to meet them.

Someone who has never really celebrated Christmas maybe doesn't know about that sort of thing. Maybe they never sat in quiet moments in front of the tree, with the whole house dark, the smell of pine drifting over you, and music in the background, with their mother, or their brother, or anyone, in a moment of complete comfort and security, away from the world and the bustle of living. It's not always perfect. There are fights; and my definition of family is perhaps not so simple as what you may think-friends are family too, and it's fluid. But as time goes by even fights get wrapped up in holiday memory as growth, as part of what it means to be in a family and connected and committed to one another. And that is what the holiday means to me. Any holiday. As I grow and add more to my list of days to celebrate, there may be other purposes, but being with family and friends will always go hand in hand with it, no matter what.


I have debated whether or not it was worth it to share with my friends who scoff just what their words and disdain do....wondering if perhaps I can keep them from hurting someone with careless words. Either way, the holiday feeling has been strong this year, partly because of them, and for that I am thankful.

The Traveling SNAFU

I have to admit, I have been mighty pleased with this year's weather so far. Soooo pretty. A lovely white Christmas. I have scoffed at coworkers' insistence that this year, over all years ever, is the WORST ever. I mean, really? Every year some whiny, pitiable soul is determined to milk my sympathy for all it's worth over his or her suffering. It's soo cold, so nasty, they say. Well, it is every year, young grasshopper. The nature of the beast. The only thing that really changes is how much, how soon, or how late in the season.

Buck up, I try to tell them. Or move. Get a winter hat and boots and you will be just fine. Appreciate the gorgeousness and know that summer is coming and will be that much more appreciable because of our discomfort now.

And during all this scoffing I was doing, a small voice in the back of my head was saying, 'please, please, not on my travel day. please beautiful weather and snow, go away for a good 24 hours....when I need you to.'

So when it started snowing this past Saturday I was mildly worried, but confident as anything that my night of traveling would go without a hitch. It would be cold, sure. And a monstrous task of lugging my 100-pound suitcase through the 4 blocks of half-ass shoveled snow to the train. I knew within two days my back would be sore from all the pushing, pulling and carrying of the traveling suitcase, as it always is when I travel. I was mentally prepared for that, and the usual half-hour to hour wait outside in the cold, for the bus to take me 7 hours to MN, the bus that was always late.

I was ready for these things. I was not ready for the extreme temperature drop from my house to the Quincy train station downtown, where I exited to begin the trek to Union Station. I was not prepared for the 40 mile an hour bitter winds blowing in my face as I walked to the stop. I was pleased to get there, however, pleased to be 15 minutes early. I put on my headphones and tightened my scarf and pulled down my hat-hunkered down for the wait. Within minutes I made some friends, three young college students who were eager to get home for Christmas, like me, and resigned to the long bus ride and slight discomforts, like me. They chatted about majors, jobs, current and future, about parents and about being from Minnesota-what that meant in a city like Chicago. You could hear the hope and promise in their voices.

We saw three buses go by-our brand and make, but not our destination and after an hour out there, we began to grow suspicious. I had already pulled out my phone, calling the hotline, to no avail. Finally, as a team, we decided to trek our suitcases and ourselves down to the next block where we saw folks departing a bus just arrived from Detroit. The young gentleman in our group took charge and bravely and exuberantly leapt over a snowbank to inquire of the bus driver. We three women stared and mused at his take-charge attitude. He leapt back over the snowbank and broke the news.

All buses to Minnesota had been canceled.

One gal in our group started to tear up and panic almost immediately. I myself found I could not take this gentelman's word for it, trustful as he seemed. Together we both leapt over the snowbank again, to again question the bus driver.

The driver repeated his answer to my question with the gusto of someone who knows where he will sleep that night, "It's canceled!" No apolgetic, customer-service tone from him. Just the singsong statement of fact. We asked him how we were supposed to have known that and he said, "Well, someone shoulda told y'all! Ain't nothing getting to Minnesota tonight. NOTHING."

He could not tell us if another bus would come for us in the morning or anything, so we made our way back to the station and this time headed inside. It was nearing midnight and we were contemplating our options. We exchanged numbers. If anyone of us was to figure something out, we would call the other one. At that point the temperature had plunged down to below zero and the thought of lugging my suitcase alll the way back home, hour train ride, only to come back in the morning for additional uncertainty, made me want to cry too-like that other gal.

Instead I headed to my office, which thankfully was three blocks away. I got to my desk, fired on the computer and explored my options.

Plane: $584
Train: Booked full for days
Bus#1: $84
Bus#2: unknown-this was my bus-it appeared to have one going out at noon the next day but whether or not I could get on it was unclear.

Then I called my dad. He was appropriately empathetic. Then I cried. Then I took a $25 cab ride home.

As early as I could the next morning I called my bus company again. The noon bus was already packed and full and the next availability they had was two days later. The lady told me I could go to the bus station and try to get on the bus anyway, show my ticket and all, but it would be at the discretion of the driver and would depend on if there were no shows. And it was definitely below zero so I was not really pleased with this haphazardness.

Finally a friend of mine stepped in and helped me, through him I was able to check on the other bus company, and purchase a ticket. I got a ride to the bus station, and got to sit in a warm car while waiting for it to arrive.

The bus was full, the heat was not working, so I kept my boots, mittens, hat and coat on for the entire 8 and a half hour trip. But I made it home. 13 hours later than initially planned. I slept for 10 hours after that. And I cursed the weather. The damn pretty snow.

Now I am here in MN and I feel it is also important to mention I have now also experienced my first frightening spinout. My mom's car. I was Christmas shopping. I did not, thank GOD, crash the car, but I hit a patch of ice-and I was driving carefully and slowly, mind you, but the car started going all over the place. I righted it eventually but I felt it was a nice top-off to my traveling SNAFU. Oh winter, you have humbled me.

What will not leave my brain for the day

Boo on bloating. That is all...

Why I am a morning person

Because at 8am I enjoy the cold. I feel pleasant and am generally productive. At 7pm I hate the world and all it's cold darkness and I just want to be at home hidden away....

Apparently it's just like that

I am working on my timeliness. I am not necessarily chronically late-there are things I am on time for but not a lot.

But as I attempt to stop showing up 10 minutes late for work I have learned some things.

If I leave my house at 7:30am, I get to work around 8:38-8:45

If I leave my house at 7:40am, I get to work around 8:27-8:40

If I leave my house at 7:45am, I get to work around 8:40-8:49

If I leave my house at 7:50am I get to work around 8:40-8:49

None of this is an exageration. I take the same train that runs on the same track EVERYDAY. And everyday my eyes are magnetized to the phone clock or the iPod clock checking, checking, constantly checking.

So now the conclusion is, to be absolutely sure I am here in my seat by 8:30am, I have to leave my house at 7:15am, because of rush hour, on the trains, which makes it take just that much longer, it is the only way I can ensure I get here on time. Which means I have to always be up by 6am-or 'getting ready' by 6am, shoot to leave by 7am, which will inevitably turn into 7:15 to account for last minute changes to wardrobe, lunch-making, preening, or whatever else it is I do in the morning that makes me late.

To be clear, I usually am up before 6 but because I am weird, I try to work out, wash dishes or clean in the morning. And watch the news. All things but getting ready things....sometimes I even do a load of laundry. It's my productive time. I don't know. Don't say I'm a morning person. I'm not.

This morning I left my house at 4:52am and got here at 5:34am. DAMN! I was shooting for 6am. It's why I've had a chance to tap this little ditty out. My boss should be here soon. We have an auction to run!

Traditions a-changin'.....

Although not raised strictly religious, my family celebrated the Christian holidays with gusto. Our religious involvement amounted to a prayer before the meal- a song sung slightly off-key; you may know the tune: "O the Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord, for giving me the things I need, the sun and the rain and the appleseed. The Lord is good to me. Amen. Amen. Amen, amen, amen. AHHHHHH-men."

That was it for us. Well, an occasional church visit here and there, but less than I can count on one hand, probably.

But when we were little there was always lots of cookie-making and treats-a HUGE chocolate Easter bunny, stockings stuffed with candy and trinkets. Dresses on Easter and a delicious brunch with pancakes or something like that; our special family tradition of homemade pizza on Christmas eve, and presents from family, then more presents from Santa in the morning. And somewhere in there more pies and treats and desserts. Over the years as mom grew more healthy, many of these things disappeared.

Now when I go home for the holidays there is no candy anywhere and if we want dessert of any kind we have to go buy it ourselves-times have changed a bit. But the one constant, the thing that will never change, is Christmas music.

My parents own an unholy amount of Christmas music.(awhile ago it was records) They would play them NON-STOP for days and hours and hours in all the days preceding the big day. At no point were we allowed quiet time, or other music time, at least until bed time. Suffice it to say, I have a love-hate relationship with Christmas music.

I LOVE it in November. I am lukewarm to it in the beginning of Decemeber, and by about the 25th, I am ready to strangle myself. And still, all this is memory and fondness. All this is tradition.

And when I became a Bahai 3 years ago, I remember wondering whether or not I would ever feel about the new holidays in my life as I do about the old. And honestly for the last couple of years, each new holiday I have celebrated has felt somewhat empty-of memory and tradition, at least. And empty of reverance, too. Because I am coming to this in my adult life, the child wonderment and association do not exist in my connection to these many and numerous days.

But thanks to life and friends, I am starting to feel it a little. I am completely cognizant of the fact that having an actual family to share these days with will help immensely in my being able to develop a connection. I look forward to that time in my life for sure-when my own little children are learning about the history of our Faith and the wonderment in their eyes shines on my heart a little, when we can create our own familial traditions based on joy and beauty and reverence. And maybe a pie or two and some chocolate. Who knows?

What I do know is for the last week straight I have had another song stuck in my head. It's not 'Chestnuts Roasting' or 'Santa Claus is coming..' or 'Away in a manger'.

It's a rather maddening little tune that goes to these words:

Do you know what we remember?
On the 12th day of November?
We give thanks to the land of Ta
For giving us Baha'u'llah
Ring the bells
and sound the horns
This is the day when
he was born!

My Parents are Literary and Thoughtful

MOM

Nov 4, 2008

Dear Gina, Leslie, Louis, Jeffrey and Nathan,

What a historic moment we have all just witnessed. I have been texting and/or talking with each you on the phone tonight, sharing this experience.

I am moved to tears when I think about what this means.

Kayla will never know a country where this was not possible.

Young people, even all those country white boys in Wisconsin that Nathan kept telling me were going to vote for Obama, know that it matters whether they vote or not.

People to whom it otherwise might not occur, will get a chance to see how someone who lived a life of diversity, of different cultures in his own family, learned to understand and respect different perspectives and to find common ground.

Each of you will know that your African American President has a WHITE MOM, too. :)

The world will get to see an achieving African American family that is not fiction and is not called the Cosby Show.

Those of us who like strong, smart women, will have the pleasure of watching Michelle Obama continue her path of greatness on a national level.

The world can see that the American people are GOOD--we have said we don't want a leader like George Bush. Most of us get it that the United States is part of a whole world of countries and cultures.

We will all remember this moment and where we were when it happened. How wonderful for that to be true of something other than assassinations or terrorist attacks.

It has been a long while since I have felt proud of my country. Tonight I feel proud. And I feel grateful to all the generations of people who made this possible. And I feel hopeful.

Thanks for sharing this night with me. I love you all and am so happy this has come to pass.

Love,
Mom

DAD
April 4, 2006

Hi kids,

Tomorrow I turn 53 years old which is a historic time for me as it is not only my golden birthday as I was born in 1953...but I have outlived my own father who died at 52.

A lot has occurred in my lifetime.

I was born COLORED in the Jim crow segregation era, became a NEGRO by the time I started school, turned BLACK in high school, and became an AFRICAN AMERICAN in college.

Of course the only constant name throughout my lifetime is the N word.

My mother had a 3rd grade education and my father was a high school graduate from one of the old segregated negro schools in south Carolina where the negro high school only went to the 10th grade.

I lived through and saw on TV the era of MLK, Malcolm X, Vietnam war, hippies, the Black panthers, Rosa Parks, etc.

Despite all of this stuff I can honestly say that I have been happy most of my life.

One regret I do have is that I wish I could meet my kindergarten (Mrs. Johnson) teacher again to let her know I turned out OK. I am sure she worried about me a few times because I hit a few kids with blocks (those kids deserved it too).

Yes, I did good for a ghetto kid. I have accomplished a lot in my lifetime and will accomplish more as I expect to live for another 25 years or so.

Love,
Dad

Confession

I am not a fan of being cold. I am one of those people who is always cold. I have a love/hate relationship with winter, in that I love it's beauty and the wonderful things that happen every time it gets cold(my bday, my adoption anniversary, the holidays) but I absolutely HATE being cold. There it is. I live with it.

I must confess that I have a thought every time it is unseasonably warm out, a bad thought. Especially in light of the fact that each year we get more and more unseasonable....I think in my head...oh thank you global warming. I KNOW! Think of the polar bears, those poor cute creatures. I know. But the thought still creeps up and is thunk in my head. I could move. Yes that is true. But I do like the 4 seasons. Both the one on the earth and the one by Vivaldi....

Don't worry my carbon footprint is really light. I swear.

on repose and reflection

this weekend i slept a whole wide bunch and it was nice. think i was fighting a cold. also i went on a blind date. it was pleasant. nice fellow. no future romantically i think but perhaps a new friend? he is an astrophysicist, which was interesting enough. went to a talk and a party and vacillated between contentment and discontent-as to be expected when one is genuinely working to define love and interact with loved ones and potential loved ones at the same time. had a 2.5 hour conversation with a very beloved friend in Haifa. further solidified my newly developing belief and definition of love as action. good friends always help you clarify murky thought. overall it was a good weekend.

i have 'the good life' by kanye in my head and i am still at work. i have been in this building for 11 hours. it is time to go home. good night, good life.

Operation Growth-part 2

This weekend I am embarking on something a certain intuitive healer assured me was a waste of time, romantically. In fact, just to reiterate, or iterate, as it were, she said very distinctly almost 2 years ago that I was not dateable. Not a bit. I hadn’t even brought it up-she did. I had gone to speak with her about careers and food and when we were done she asked if we could talk about that elusive topic that cringes my soul and breaks my heart and I have to admit I was very eager to hear what she had to say.

And she said the thing that I feared most was indeed true. That I was not dateable. I was already marriage-material she said. A whole person. She said a bunch of other things about people who date that honestly, if I were to print it here and you were to read it and you were a single person who dated, you might feel a little hurt. Particularly if you were a male, because the things she said were about men in relationships. But ultimately, it was good news for me. I was wonderful she said, a good wife, she said. All sorts of other things. And…here is the kicker, there would ACTUALLY be someone out there for me. Eventually. When I managed to accomplish a couple of small things (like truly internalizing my wonderfulness, very small, really) and eating the right foods to increase my magnetism. She said it might happen in about a year and a half. I would have choices even.

That was 2 years ago. I may said that already. Anyway. What ended up happening is that I became fixated on a certain person. I decided he was the one. He was great. Then, after months of …nothing, I went to see the healer again. And she shook her head at me, lovingly and figuratively, of course. This one, she said, was just not into me. Words spoken then severed my attachment with a quickness, which made me realize how arbitrary the emotion I had for him was. I was loving love but not necessarily him-I was loving possibility but not necessarily him. I was loving hope, and definitely not really loving him.

Sigh. That was over a year ago. Around that time, and before that, I had started running, quit smoking, ate right, got a new job…..all these things towards making my life better and internalizing that whole wonderful thing. And here I sit today. And I’ve made progress, but perhaps not so much. I have a body that wants babies. I have a soul that wants growth, and a spiritual drive towards strength and acquiring as many virtues as possible while striving to live the life God set forth for me.

So the thing I do this weekend, and not to find love by any means but perhaps to practice courage and detachment, is to go on a blind date. Hm. We shall see. One friend said to me maybe I will find a husband. That is true. Another said to me, if you’re not uncomfortable a little bit then you are not growing. I think that is also true. It is also true that I have been single since 2003. It is also true that I am redefining each day what love looks like to me and how I want to practice it, and what I want from someone who would love me for life in that kind of way. I am not delusional about finding it. I know what to look for-my intuitive healer believed I would know. I think it could exist in my vicinity already and perhaps not yet be revealed. I do know that I want to continue to pursue discomfort that grows me in ways unimaginable to me in the moment at hand.

I am nervous. I am curious. I am going to live a little this weekend. And for all the people that are impatiently waiting for me to regale them with tales of horror or of burgeoning true love, I have to warn you, you might just get a little of me being philosophically boring. Or you might get what you hope for.

Mighty Me

Had a damn good swim this morning. Half a mile. 18 laps. Feeling all strong. Maybe it's because I did those flip turns. I actually swam 4 full laps with 8 proper flip turns. Like a fish. Definitely like a pro. Well. Kind of. I only got water up my nose once. Look out triathlon, here I come!

last nights dreams

so many bloggable things these days. yet today i pick the dreams because they were vivid and tangible. visceral. rememberable. (yes it's a word. what?) to put it briefly, my dreams last night involved me climbing through ceilings and up stairs on a quest that i knew i was bound to conquer. i was very strong and...not quite human. but we will not dwell on that. i woke up feeling pretty good.

from the dream dictionary:

Stairs

To dream that you are walking up a flight of stairs, indicates that you are achieving a higher level of understanding. You are making progress into your spiritual/emotional/material journey. It also represents material and thoughts that are coming to the surface.

To see spiral or winding stairs, signify growth and/or rebirth.

Ceiling

To see a ceiling in your dream, represents a mental or spiritual perspective. It may also symbolize the limit you have set for yourself.

Climb

To dream that you are climbing up something (ladder, rope, etc.), signifies that you are trying to or you have overcome a great struggle. It also suggests that your goals are finally within reach. Climbing also means that you have risen to a level of prominence within the social or economic sphere.

And again, fabulousness....

addiction

i know i am usually pretty forthright in my writing, revealing more than many would. but suffice it to say what i do write about sometimes barely scratches the surface at what i think or experience. lately i have been going through something that is more than what i would write about here.

suffice it to say i have been feeling some urges lately. not to smoke. which is interesting. but definitiely to go on a HUGE bender and get myself so drunk that i barf for three days straight. i haven't done it yet. i wish i could. this whole eliminating of the unhealthy addictions has done wonders for thrusting me face-to-face with the dregs of pain that i have been holding deep in my belly for many years. right now i am contemplating going to my favorite restaurant and ordering so much food i literally go into a food coma. this is my addiction rearing it's ugly head. go away. we don't want you here.

New Fave-Janelle Monae

Question on Costumes

I don't know quite when it started, perhaps way back when, when for several Halloweens in a row I was grounded, on restrictions, and not allowed to even dress up, much less go get all the candy, but at some point I developed a high standard of the holiday, and subconsciously concluded that I would try and take as much advantage of it in my adult life as possible. So much so that each year I fret and worry and wrack my brains all over the place trying to determine the 'perfect' costume. I am not a fanatic, I know enough of those to know I don't fit into that category.

As for costumes, I take a pass on sexy and have never been particularly interested in gory or scary. I am a supporter of witty or interesting. This year I am not sure that my idea falls into either category but it definitely will allow me to live out an only recently realized latent childhood fantasy....but I will get into that later. Or not.

When I was a child I believe I was a clown once, and a scarecrow-and I loved being the scarecrow because I thought I was the Michael Jackson scarecrow from The Wiz.

In college I once got the brilliant idea that I and three of my friends would dress as each of the four major elements, hopefully representing our actual astrological signs and everything. Unfortunately I did not have enough friends who thought that was cool. But I went out as FIRE and my friend Heather went out as WATER. We did realize while those two elements were fairly simple to concoct, AIR and EARTH, as different from each other, would have been more challenging so we were totally fine with our limited choices of friends to pull into the fold....no tears there.

I was Athena one year, my hair just the right length to make spikes of a sort all over my head. At least twice in the last 8 years I have been totally lame and put on a long pretty dress and called myself 'long pretty dress lady' or something of the sort. But my two ALL-TIME favorites were a capitalist pig and a sky scraper.

Check this out-I got a pig nose, tail and ears, top hat. Borrowed my friends 'waiting tables' tux and a bling bling plastic dollar sign necklace.

Then, as a sky scraper, dressed all in sky blue, carried around a paint scraper, and scraped myself all night. Sigh. Brings me to my question.

Can you ever repeat a costume? My thought is no but after trying to continually come up with ideas that work for me I wonder....can I revisit the pig after some time has passed? I would like to.

I bring all this up because I had been thinking about it, but then tonight something happened. I was leaving my chiro and walking to the internet cafe, when I came upon a glorious new and large HALLOWEEN store! I have actually been trying to find the bits and pieces to my idea for this year's costume for the last few weeks, mostly going online because I thought that at least one part of the costume could not be found in regular stores. I was wrong. Tonight I have made wonderful headway towards completing a costume that I thought I was going to have to give up on entirely.

Very excited. Now I just need a party to wear it to and some friends to enjoy it with. I hope I can get both. Because going to parties alone is sometimes kinda lonely, even when you know the people who are gonna be there.....

Best Quote of the Day

Natives who beat drums to drive off evil spirits are objects of scorn to smart Americans who blow horns to break up traffic jams.

-from a book from another book by an inscrutably wise person who I admire

Let's reiterate

I am struggling to find words to express my current state, and I am sitting at my friends computer torn between socializing and expounding, between developing deeper bonds with the outside world or exploring a deeper bond with myself.

I want to iterate, although there is no re there as I am certain I have not yet made this clear with anyone on the blogosphere... I am by no means thinking I will find 'the one' on match. Mostly because I still technically have feelings for someone who is not on match, someone who I think is safe to call a peripheral friend, whose friendship I still want to take to another level, of friendship at the least, and life-long companionship at the most, but as mentioned before, neither of these things are happening and rather than become overly attached and wasting time longing or contemplating and being stuck in my head playing and re-playing each of our interactions, I would like to focus on my own self and the matter of courage.

Courage to live outside of where I've been comfortable-stretch the boundaries of comfort and see where it takes me.

In light of this I have made a new promise to myself to challenge myself to do something outside of my comfort zone each week. Something that falls in line with the core of who I am and what I am passionate about. I am passionate about the Faith, about music and movement, about volleyball, children, relationships and nature. I am not comfortable making certain transitions or functioning at a weakness in front of others. I am not comfortable feeling vulnerable, but I recognize that sometimes the vulnerability is the very thing that one needs on occasion to carry you to the next stage of life....

So I joined match in order to practice at engaging in new interactions with people, practice at saying no and being said no to, practice at being honest and not compromising, of not being so excited at being noticed that I let that guide me rather than what I want and deserve and what feels right. And, not to mention, too keep from getting too weepy over the one that I would prefer. Subsequently, since he is the measure against which all others are set, my standards are very high and the last few interactions have been fairly simple to engage in....people are being really sweet and nice in rejection. Perhaps later I can blog more specifically but I am being unsocial at the moment.

I also decided I need to start singing in front of people, no matter how bad I sound. So I did karaoke this weekend, and not safe karaoke at a friend's house surrounded by friends, but at a crowded bar surrounded by strangers, all of whom could seriously blow, I am not kidding. And I did not have to be drunk to do it- in the past when I drank, I needed the liquid courage to sing OR dance. It has been a SLOW journey in that, to dance and now....this, in front of anyone without the aid of substance.

This coming week I am not sure what it will be, of what I will do that is brave and uncomfortable....well I have some ideas. But breaking it out is what I am all about. Woot.

a new word

urglebeckle adj. The feeling of extreme discomfort following an incident of an inexplicable outburst of some sort in front of an individual for whom you hold a torch.
Often exemplified by the feeling of not fitting within your own skin and accompanied by loud, verbal outbursts to no one in particular, regardless of if one is alone or completely surrounded by strangers. Can last for up to four hours and recur in the early morning upon waking, often then followed by a smack to the head and a groan, and then by the choosing of playing really loud distracting music no matter what the neighbors might think.

i did the thing i meant to

i thought about it some more and let it settle in and i still just don't want to ask someone out. maybe it's because my mom, in all of her feminist reverie* asked my dad out and now they are divorced. not because he or she did anything or are anything terrible, but because finally my dad had to admit-he just did not love her. and i don't want to spend the next 30 years of my life with someone who says yes to me asking them out because i am basically a good person who they can also conceive to be attracted to. because that is not what i want in a life commitment with someone. and i believe that we all have this capacity to love mankind somewhere within us and sometimes it gets tied up with physical attraction and then we confuse that for romantic love. and i don't want confused, cop-out romantic love. i want the real thing. i want to be with someone because they were/are sooo amazed by who i was that they just wanted to be around me, get to know me and find opportunities to see me and be with me more.

and when it comes down to it, my crush, the person i think is amazing and i wish thought i was amazing in the same way, just isn't doing any of that. not asking me out, not trying to see me more, not even trying to learn more about me in any way when i do see him. and so i have to be done with that. sadly. or powerfully. you decide. he's so not into me. grr. makes me want to cry a little bit.

but i did the thing i meant to do months ago. not because i am desperate. although 5 years of singleness is certainly a motivation, but because i am at a point in my life where i think i can try something new and perhaps not be damaged or set back by it. i am not putting too much store in it for so many reasons, but i think it will at least serve to keep me detached, open, reflective and durable.

i joined match.com

we shall see if it leads somewhere. my dad-the same man who for years was convinced he was a man who preferred to stay at home and read the paper, has become a social butterfly and is more vibrant than he ever was all on account of a really wonderful lady he met on match. several others i know have also made some very positive connections. i would like to remain in the space of no expectation and view it as a distraction more than anything. but we shall see.




*ps i am an avid rip roaring feminist, proud of it, but i am not settled on man/woman relationships just yet, rolls to play, etc. i am not knocking a woman's right to ask a man out, but i am saying that sometimes our (man's and woman's) capacity to know ourselves is not always advanced enough to overcome certain aspects of human nature, thus clouding our ability to make choices that are, to say it bluntly, good for us. in other words, our desire for love and companionship can blind us a bit when faced with opportunity and instead of taking the time to ferret out the flaws or incompatible things, we focus on the good stuff until our hearts are irrevocably tied to someone who wasn't right for us to begin with, and therein lies the heartache. and i don't want that. i know i will get it because its part of life. but i want to try to avoid some things....

Moving on up

I’ve been thinking for days about how to blog about the move. Wondering if I should talk about the process of cleansing that begins to happen but inevitably deteriorates into a frenzied throwing of things into boxes, with the half-ass promise to self to sort through it all later rather than leave it in the box for the next year or two. Or perhaps I could go over the way it feels to finally be free of living in a garden apartment, of how I did not realize how successfully I had managed to ignore the feeling of oppression of waking up below ground on a level where at any given time a person could have easily pried open a window, crawled in, and taken advantage of me and my things. My windows were numerous, easily-openable, and big enough for anyone to crawl through.

I could also dwell on the reason behind the move, the rodent issues and the fact that my landlord is giving me a bit of a deal that allows a soft move-since they are not filling my old place right away in order to do renovations. And I am ‘apparently’ getting a price deal to, although I have my reservations about that. But I have as much time as I need to pack and transition, and believe you me, I am taking it!

But instead of all that I want to just talk about how much time I have spent over the last two weeks sitting on the floor of either apartment, one right around the corner from the other, just staring. Staring at the floor, at the boxes, at my stuff-imagining it all nicely packed or nicely unpacked. Imagining the new things that I want to get-comforter, shower curtains, garbage bins, artwork. Trying to decide with my eyeball how much I will need to throw away and what I can make work and what I don’t want to make work. How much I wished by dint of desire alone, that everything that needed to be done would accomplish itself somehow. I was chatting with a friend about the things that were different about this move and he said, “Well, no matter how you slice it, moving is always a huge task.”

YES. It is. It totally blows. I stared at my things as if the pondering and planning inside my head would shorten the tasks of going through all the itty-bittys, and lighten the weight of each box of books I took from basement to second floor. As if it would somehow free me from the sweat and eliminate stubbed toes and fingers, scratches in skin and doors and walls and floors. But two-thirds of the way into my transition, I’ve had to face reality and accept that my staring did not actually work. As action finally flooded its way into my limbs and I began to carry things and throw things and move things, time started to ease its way by me and I realized a task I set aside one day for would in fact take several. I don’t know why I am so insistently naïve about this. This is my 13th move in 12 years. In college I went home every summer and came back to a new apartment or dorm each time. I’ve been lucky that it has been three years since my last move. And I just helped a friend with her move so really there is no reason for me to have been so in denial. But here I am. It is what it is. I am excited to be done with the transition and therein lies my motivation at the moment. I just hope it holds long enough for me to avoid the throwing of things into boxes that stay there forever until the next move and the next long contemplation.

tivo where are you?

yes its true. i am a little miffed about missing both Gossip Girl, (sadly I am not the least bit ashamed to admit this) and the Vikings v Packers game tonight.

Business Suits and Cheese Sandwiches

I actually have a lot to say but it is all a bit personal. I am wearing a business suit right now. I would like to eat a cheese sandwich. I am still teetering on the edge of changes-following and chasing some boldly, and cowering in a corner shying away from others like a little coward. At what point do you put your heart on the line and just tell a person something that could result in plunging you back into an abyss of self-doubt and irrational confirmation of worthlessness?

Seriously I may not be that fragile BUT I MAY BE. Hence the fear. HENCE. I could write about it forever and bring in all the old weapons, books I've read, therapist's advice, parent's advice, happily married friend's advice, but I will not. Partly because I do not have time but mostly because it does not matter. What matters is courage. And the tiny little secret wish that the person I need courage about will jump all over it and preclude my need to have the courage. Mostly because that is more romantic, and partly because I think it would be easier for me.

The voice inside my head says if he doesn't say anything it's because he has no desire to, and therein lies the issue. I mean, I had someone recently have the courage to ask me, but he wasn't the right one. I was like, um, can we take your question and put it on another person? But that was kind of rude so he was upset. Just kidding, I did not say that. We are friends now so I must have been nicer than that. Hmm, thought I wasn't gonna get personal. Even warned you about it. Shoot. There I go again. Ok I am done. Completely done. Finito. Please don't read this.

beautiful

here it is again folks. because it's awesome, just like my weekend.

Pervasive Pennies for Thought

I once had an ex-boyfriend tell me with absolute conviction that he thought he could never, ever, ever have children because he was too afraid he would turn into his father. His father was a cruel and neglectful person, abandoning him and his sister when a son's love still held the shape of big, round, saucer eyes and a belief in real-life daddy superheroes. He was saying this in response to a story I had just told about my own personal recovery, years in therapy and hours upon hours of self-exploration, from the child abuse I experienced as a child.

I was 20 years old at the time of our talk, and our teenage love affair was nearly 4 years in the past, and not surprisingly, we had never got around to talking about that time in my life. So as we sat on the train to Chicago, reacquainting ourselves with one another, the stories unfolded and I remember very clearly and resoundingly rejecting his statement with something like encouragement mixed with disgust. 'But KNOWING,' I told him, is half the battle. Once you know that something like that has affected you, you can fight it. He did not believe me. I believed me, because I remembered clearly, still remember clearly, each new epiphany as it occured, and the dazzling joy just the realization caused, and the power and confidence it gave me. And the strength. I tried to talk him into it but after he miserably rejected everything I tried to tell him I got bored and decided that it was a really good thing we broke up all those years ago. I mean, who wants to date someone so stupid? Ah.....my twenties. Wise and knowledgeable and decisive and full of cockiness....so awesome.

It is now ten years later and he is happily married in Texas and.....planning on having babies. Go figure, right? Anyway I bring all this up because the truth is, my last big epiphany, the one that led me to the Faith and has kept me going like a steam engine in the 20s these last three years, has made itself known to me again and reminded me very strongly that knowing isn't enough. I forgot to work on that part of myself back then and here it is in all it's glory.

I would get into it in detail, but it's personal enough and complicated enough that I am not sure it would translate well in writing without divulging a lot of background story that would take far too long to write about. And I'm afraid it woould require me to reveal far too many minute details that are not necessarily things I want in writing until I publish my tell-all scandalous biography 10 years from now, when 40 will be the new 30 and I will be a super fabulous and famous person for inventing..oh I'm not telling you yet. Thought you could get that out of me...but I digress.

Let's just say this. I have a streak in me-my better friends all know what it is because sadly I have unleashed it on them-but they love me and continue to do so, which is good. But basically it IS a tendency towards wanting reassurance all the time, and just the knowledge of the need makes me feel ashamed and a little pathetic. My brain says 'you are too smart and good for you to not see the truth of the situation'. But my poor little neglected abused baby girl self does not see the truth. And she is a very noisy person sometimes.

I thought it was over but it came back. And I sort of freaked out on a friend the other day, and then with my tail between my legs I went back and apologized. Ultimatums belong in the trash, I think. (To paint myself in a better light, I did not actually give any ultimatums, just thought about giving one) I am not sure about how to quell it, these thoughts of ridiculuousness, except lots of prayer and maybe a visit to my old therapist. I think writing helps. It's why I put it here. Where I will read it again. And maybe someone else will read it and then provide words of insight and/or support. Which would be lovely. If not, that's ok too.

because i can't bear to tell him the truth

i decided to put it here, where he will not read it because he does not read my blog. yay!

basically for the past few weeks i have been trying to choke down this book that was very highly recommended by a co-worker/friend whom i value greatly. i can't help but HhhhhATTTEEEEEE this book in how boring it is and how uninterested i am in the plight of it's characters. he recommended it to me because he knows i like sci fi but guys, i don't like this kind of sci fi.

i feel so obligated to finish it but i just want to put it down and never pick it up again. partly because it is so full of science and mathematics without ANY of the wit and humor that a book like Cryptonomicon posesses, but mostly because i do not at all respect or value the unfolding of human development this author has chosen to create/chronicle in his fiction piece. i am done with reading about the struggles of a mankind whose highest accomplishments detailed in the vast and imaginative world of sci fi only amount to murder, pettiness, deceit and bitter hatred and grudges. to me this is not a feat of writing nor is it the sum of mankind's potential which, even in fiction should be more fully explored.

utilizing certain vehicles to propel a story and demonstrate elevation of consciousness is what i am looking for. not how we progress forward ever harboring the same material and base habits as our ancestors. im tired of the excuse-because it's always been that way.

who knew becoming a Bahai would eventually transform the way i take in a story! but it has....give me more i say!

but what to tell my friend about the book he loves so very much? i have to finish it. i have to. sigh. maybe the end will surprise me.

I love ALAMO car rental

this is a shameless plug for alamo car rental, and while i am at it let me also give a big shout out to national car rental, the partner to alamo and really the big cheese when it gets right down to it.

i do not have a car. have never owned one in all my 12 years of driving eligibility. but i have rented before, quite a few times and never before have i experienced such ease and control, trust and freedom. maybe it's because i haven't driven a car in two years but the sheer joy i felt sitting behind that beautiful steering wheel and driving off the lot in less than 5 minutes after my arrival was incomparable. maybe it's because the day before i had been turned down by another car rental company for a reason that was purely my fault-but i live in a world where if you have the money and are polite you should be able to get what you want in customer service. and i had the money and i was polite and i did not get what i wanted.

i took care of business and the next day-one day too late to really execute my fabulous weekend plans, i decided to go ahead and salvage what was left of my time and make something magical happen. so i (trustingly) attempted to reserve a car at the same company that only moments before denied me. but they were all out of cars. not put off at all and actually a little curious with myself for wanting to even go back there (well, i am a creature of habit) i picked the alamo because they were the first on my list of car rental companies to go with.

within minutes online my reservation was secure. the next morning i awoke early and made my way to the rental location-when i arrived, half an hour early and eager, i saw they had tons of cars to choose from. at least 50. which was awesome. there was no wait and the lady behind the counter had that casual, 'hi, how are ya, honey?' kind of feel to her, she took my card and my DL, swiped with speed and folded with accuracy, handing me my documents to inital and sign and the charges and turned me around toward the back door. "just head toward the back fence, honey, and pick out your car!"

what!? no one will escort me? i can PICK a car-out of how many? i turned to her in askance and she swept me on my way, assuring me the keys were in the ignition and i could just pick and go. i wandered back to fence and wandered up and down the row of cars like a kid in a candy store. finally one of the alamo guys rolled by in a rental return and asked if i needed help. i repeated to him what i said earlier, "i can just pick whatever?" "yeah," he said. "how 'bout that one over there?"

i looked and it shined at me like the sun rising over the horizon. or wait, that was the sun coming up over the horizon and glancing off the chrome exterior...it was a 2008 chevy malibu with XM radio, cd player and a hook up for the iPod. what? i looked back at the man and he just smiled and drove off. i saw the key in the ignition, and i got in....and drove off. it was sooooo easy.

and so i enjoyed a weekend of driving around. did not get to go camping, but i did go to a waterpark. i did go to a different state and swim in water that was cool and refreshing. i did eat lots of junk food and i did drive drive drive.

(i also saw a dead rat, cat and dog in the road, the first was fine, the other two horrifying, especially the big ole beautiful doggy)

this morning i sadly returned the vehicle, again with the greatest of ease. i had reserved it for 3 days but turned it in a day early and i drove in the lot and a gentleman with a handheld device credited my account accordingly, in less than a minute, and then the shuttle bus took me back to the train station and all was wonderful, fine, and great.

i love alamo car rental.

ok i am done.

There it is

Yesterday the reason I don't drink coffee reared its ugly head and I was all, "Oh, yep,there it is...those crazy anxiety-filled shakes are back again." Sure, I wasn't tired anymore, I was bouncing off walls and strangely giddy, but I was also shaky and nervous and full of forboding. All off of a Grande Coffee with caramel syrup from Starbucks. Don't know why it took so many days for it to happen. Maybe it just had to be the right conditions. Just as I was settling into the habit, my true chemistry with the liquid revealed itself, my metabolism adjusted and reality finally settled in. Coffee and I are not friends.

I just thought recently maybe we could be. Especially since I have been trying to change my schedule and get up at 430 am so that I can do things like work out and job search and overall do some of the things I am not having time for in other parts of my day-things that need to be accomplished with a vengeance this month....

I'm tired a lot and this seemed like a good solution. But...it's not. Sigh.

new addict

i have been drinking coffee. not something i have been known to do. let's hope i can nip it in the bud before it's too late! also, summer posting....not something me or any of my friends have really been doing. too fast too fast!

Faster than a speeding bullet

Summer is officially halfway over.


Don't say I didn't warn you.

A Justified Justification

So in light of a recent rodent infestation in my once cute and charming, unique garden apartment, my overall laziness and reluctance to touch ANYTHING, my place recently had reached new heights of dirty and messy. After many talks with the landlord, some tears and the notice of an impending visitor, I began the long chore of cleaning about two months ago. And believe you me-it really is a months-long job to clean what I have let go to shambles in my place, plus I’m busy a lot.

But seriously over the last few days and weeks I have felt an opening of my soul as each day sees one part of the grodiness dissipate. I have been reevaluating my ownership of things in general and my attachment to material possessions. I am moving in a month and I decided it was time once and for all to rid myself of clutter. Funnily enough, two of my closest friends who once lived here in Chicago recently dumped on me some of their possessions in an effort to rid themselves of clutter. Some of it was good stuff and allowed me to upgrade on my current possessions, but I plan to get rid of half the things I acquired. I just have a hard time saying no to free shit.

But what I would really like to talk about is the fact that I threw away a huge bag of clothes yesterday and though I felt a slight twinge of guilt about it-I think I have managed to justify myself out of recrimination from…..myself. Which is good, right? Good ole’ human brain, working to achieve cognitive resonance. Is that a term? Cuz if not I just made it up..yeah, I just did that.

But anyhow, I recently lost some weight, (I can’t stop talking about that!) and ALL of my clothes, even new from this winter, are too large. And although some of them still look OK on my person, I still feel like I am swimming in them and that they hide the fact that I lost weight and I have to adjust them all the time to avoid showing inappropriate parts of my flesh-damn inappropriate shoulders. Which is no good. But some of those items are good items. As in kind of new. Like the gray pants I threw away. The buttons work. There are no stains. But they look like tent pants now. Yes I could have waited until someone came along and took me to a place where I could donate them. I could have even gone to one of those green containers strewn about the city and threw them in there. But instead I tossed them. And with them I tossed my fear of ever needing to wear them again. And by losing the pants, I gained the confidence that I can always set my mind to something and accomplish it if I really want to. Booya. Justification.

All the other things I tossed were for fashion’s sake (things older than 10 years and not in a good, retro kind of way) or because they were too dilapidated, stained or ripped for it to be fair to give to anyone else! Now there are still quite a few things that I own that I should rid myself of. I have not gotten rid of all the big clothes. I am still going to rock them for a bit until it becomes more financially reasonable to completely replace my wardrobe. But there are also about 8 really thick, Minnesota sweaters I’ve had since Mom bought them for me, either in 1996 or 2000, I cannot remember. A couple of flannels, I just never get tired of those things, really. A corduroy dress that I have not worn since high school. But these are things I think I will save forever, the scent of nostalgia is too strong on the threads of these things.

I am almost done with the things I wanted to do around the house. Of course in a couple weeks I will start packing, which will motivate a new strain of reflection and cleaning that I think, now, I will be able to manage.

I still have to vacuum.

Ah the good life....

I thought my life was full of empty spaces left by soul mate best friends who have all moved on to live their lives elsewhere but it turns out those spaces have all been filled in and are overflowing. Anticipation and expectation reign in my life again and not knowing but knowing is making my heart full and my soul happy. Last night I had dinner with a new friend and it was so refreshing to be with someone whose very essence is a present demeanor and an honest approach. I look forward to the rest of the summer when I believe the changes in my life will be somewhat significant. I love growth and song and old friends and new. I love that life always resurges with wonderful things.

Human Race

For just over a year now I have been determined to do a triathlon,and recently I had to put the plan aside for another year while I take time to work on some other things. Namely, the acquisition of a proper set of wheels-the acquiring of which, not surprisingly, actually involves spiritual growth and some self-love development, as well as a general overall advancing of financial security.

In the meantime I have kept to running but realized I would still like to work towards SOMETHING. And so.....I signed up for another race. Woo Hoo!

This one I am pretty excited about. It's called the Human Race and is sponsored by Nike, and it will essentially be the world's largest global race put together thus far. I am asking my brother to do it with me but if you want to do it, just call me. It will be awesome.

im a genius genius

a very delightful thing is when you set your mind to something and accomplish it. now if only i could master something a little more life-altering than figuring out how to turn off the 'show paragraph' function of my outlook program on my computer.

Sitting here on a summer afternoon....

This is the third Sunday in a row I've spent at my friend's house while she is off galavanting around the city in general while I alternately nap and do work on her computer and lament about how little work is actually being done.

At the moment I've nothing of import to say. I just wrote a poem. It's personal though so I won't share it here. But it's the first thing I've written in a long time that feels good and could definitely be performed if I ever did start that whole open mic spoken word thingy I used to do....that makes me so nervous.

An Apt Assessment

Sagittarius

Here is your horoscope for Thursday, June 5:

You're in a philosophical frame of mind and it's a good time to kick
back and think over your plans for the next few months or years. It could be time to make some adjustments, especially in the home.

Summer Blues

I am not really digging another summer of crappy Tuesdays. The last two Tuesdays in a row were such that we could not get out to the beach, and we are not picky! We will take cold-even down to 50 degrees, and clouds and extreme heat. But excessive wind and lightning storms not so much. Winter weather? Not so much with the 40 degrees.

I am actually suffering crankiness at only having played vball twice in the last 14 days because weather sucks-a-mundo.

Grrr. Argh.

I think I might be addicted to volleyball.

It's on...

In the battle against complacency, it has come to my attention that it very nearly won yet another victory this week when I was given some well-placed and well-timed compliments. It's amazing what a sedative medicine compliments are to me. Give me one I believe, and I forget I was unsatisfied. Tell it to me sincerely with a little bit of honest contrast and I will abandon the mission at a hand and sit and revel in appreciation.

I just want to keep in mind long enough that I am not satisfied so that moments like these, when I have a computer at hand and little else to do, I actually spend that time doing things like working towards the specific goal I've had in mind for the last few months that will only be accomplished if I work instead of think about how nice it was I got those nifty compliments.


That being said, I am so going to bed now.

And a very wonderful person and total BFF of mine has just entered this country, albeit on the other side from where I am. Cannot wait to see her!!

New awareness

So one of the most frustrating things I think about being human are the autopilot reactions and interactions one has when thrust into social situations that are in no way reflective of their actual self or character.

On an intellectual level, I believe that all human relationships circle around this struggle for love and recognition. And on a personal level, this is how I interpret the things I see and also what helps me forgive and empathize and also understand myself. In some cases,this exchange is a healthy and beneficial interaction but in just as many other cases it is a draining and unhealthy thing.

Although I am getting better at being healthy about it--drawing successfully on the love and support of God, family and friends enough to make it through a day--in certain areas I am still so very vulnerable. And I do not like that very much. I find that around certain people and definitely in certain situations, I do and say things that are geared towards conveying a certain unspoken message. In other words, I resort to passive aggressiveness. "BLEH, BLEH, BLEH," is what comes out. What I really want to say is: “Why do you not love me? How come you do not think I am so amazing? Why can’t we be friends and why am I not president of the company yet?”

The funny thing is, while it is happening, I begin to have an out of body experience where I can see myself doing it and I want to stop me, but since I am out of my body, I am powerless to stop it. Later, after I return to my body, I get mopey and repeat stupid observations to my friends as I try and nurse myself out of embarrassment and mortified memory. I recently realized I was sabotaging a friendship that I really did not want to sabotage. And now I am not sure it is mendable and though it is only conjecture that the person in question wants to be my friend, I would really like to work on being open and present no matter what so that the horrible autopilot passive aggressive monster goes away for good. Go away monster, please?

Remember this?

Lost Without You

My beautiful, battle tried and true, fabulous iPod is gone. I have been coping with a sense of loss for 6 full days and I have come to realize some things.

iPod=substitute for cigarette addiction. Not kidding!

Ever since it's been gone I have kind of sort of wanted to smoke. I didn't realize how much I'd come to rely on the surety of music in my ear until just now. And I find that I am not necessarily in a position to immediately replace the purchase, and that in and of itself makes me want to cry.

I have to listen to my own thoughts...or READ? Just kidding. I love reading. I have a book I am really into now which is good because with the amount of time I sit on trains a week, without that I think I would go crazy.

The part I am not thinking about is the place where I lost it-it is a place that many of us would like to think of as a place where no one would steal things. And the people I was around are people who know me and ideally love me enough not to steal from me. Well, we will not think about it. I have reached out to one last person-the person who gave me a ride home that evening, to see if he may have it in his car.

Here's hoping, and dreaming.

Here's a little song for my lonely iPod:

(imagine me singing to it:)

Baby you're the perfect shape (square)
Baby you're the perfect weight (fair)
I got your for my birthday
Can I hear this play, can I hear that play?
I tell you when to go or stop,
and you know how to play your part
I know you'd never hurt me

blah blah blah more lyrcis that rhyme...

I'm lost without you
Can't help myself
How does it feel?
To know that I love ya baby
I'm lost without you
Can't help myself
How does it feel?
To know that I love ya baby

How old and farty are you?

A co-worker brought this to my attention. Apparently those of us that are too old cannot hear these sounds. The younger folk can use them as phone rings and a teacher cannot hear when they get calls in class.

Of course, it seems to me that whether or not a teacher can hear the sound is mout since you cannot answer a call when you are in class anyway. But what do I know? The knowledge that you are being called and the delight of being capable of hearing something your farty old teacher cannot hear must bring untold delights to the youth of this day and age. Ah to be young!

Anyway, I played the sound and my 21 year old coworker heard it. I did not. I turned it up. Then I heard it. I turned it down and then 2 other youngish types started to complain about the sound. I found it fiendishly enjoyable! A way to annoy certain people and not be bothered one bit. Guess it goes both ways!

Tee hee.....

Baby Weekend

This weekend was full of babies and people and traveling and not traveling and that was all very fabulous.

I inadvertently cooked something this weekend that smelled so bad that was not fabulous. It was horrifying beyond all repair. Rather than share the details, I choose to keep my friend/readers in suspense and just mention that I am getting a new oven as a result.

Let your imaginations run wild.

Today's Lunch Special

On the board:
For lunch today I took a pleasant walk with Sarah through the loop to the comic book store, where I procured the latest Buffy the Vampire Slayer issues.

I discovered, to my delight and only limited surprise, that good ole’ Joss has also begun an Angel series as well, also picking up where he left off of the Season 5 finale.

The store I was at did not have the first issue (it was already out to issue 7) but I am so all over that as soon as I can. Sigh, I can live again, now, I can live again!

No Pity

I have heard several times over the years and once just recently from people of the male persuasion that it is unfair that women can 'wear whatever they want' to work. Specifically I have heard the complaint that women can wear flip flops and open-toed shoes when men are limited to sweaty uncomfortable shoes. Let me just elaborate what I am really hearing: "Wah, wah!"

For realz tho, all jest and jibes aside, for a long time I maintained to these men, when they would listen, that women wear comfortable flip flops to work and then change into uncomfortable shoes when they get there. So they still had nothing to complain about. I had one gentleman insist that this 'changing of the shoes' did not happen but since he was being belligerant I chose not to pay him any mind. I admit I got a little prideful and self-righteous without ever really exploring the issue, just fearlessly defending my sisters when the subject arose. Never, I would insist to a man, would you actually SEE someone wearing those hideous flip flop heels to work and try to pass them off as professional! But then, alas, a colleague of mine, whose fashion sense I respect, came in the other day with a really sharp business suit on and those flip flop sandals. Her pants were so long that it really looked like plain ole' flips and I was mildly appalled and humbled at my previous attempts to defend my sex. I made as polite a mention as I could about the shoes and she affirmed rather confidantly that they were heels so they 'counted'.

Far be it from me to try and determine where the line should be drawn when contemplating business attire, business casual and casual. It really is different from place to place; my current place of employment is 'business casual'. There are plenty of websites that will lay it out for you but each site is slightly different and honestly, there are different standards. But thinking in particular about a complaint one guy made about not being able to wear shorts when women wore skirts all the time, a visual image appeared in my head and several things crept into my awareness at once.

1. It would look ridiculous to me if a guy suddenly started wearing shorts, no matter how nicely pressed, to work.
2. It does not look ridiculous to me if a gal wears shorts or a skirt, if nicely pressed.
3. All of the items women wear that are supposedly unfairly more comfortable, are also more revealing.
4. We all are used to women revealing their bodies more than men.
5. It is expected in this society that a woman would/should/want to reveal her body and be on display.
6. It looks weird when a guy does it because we, as a society, are not currently in the habit of viewing men's bodies as something for materialistic/animalistic appreciation, or rather, objectifying them.

For a woman, it seems part and parcel that we show a little skin, so much so that even a nice ensemble that covers most of the body but reveals a little view of skin is even noted and commented on. If a man were to wear a suit and say, role up his sleeves, we would never say, oh how sexy and smart! I am not bashing clothes here, or rather, that is not my intention. I enjoy being a woman and I do not think we should let what others are taught reflect on our self image.

I live in my own special world where I try to balance an awareness of how I am perceived with my own sense of self worth, and where I try to stay mindful of the fact that I exist in a world of others where what I do, say and wear can impact and influence others. I can also accept that what I wear may spark an action that, though I am not responsible for, can influence me positivly or negatively.

But what it comes down to is that I have no pity for the complaining man, and I know exactly why. If you, oh sad and mournful gentleman, would like to trade us up for objectification, second class citizenship and overall demeaning and widely accepted views of womanness and womanhood, then perhaps I will let you complain about not wearing flip flops to work. Either way, since this is not meant as a man-bashing, 'who has it worse' kind of thing, I forgive you. It sucks for you in other ways I am sure, and we can talk about it later if you want. But I would like to close the book on this chapter.

A really great Friday evening

This past Friday a friend and I met up to go support an ex boy of hers in one of his art shows, or so I thought. She was in one of the pieces and we were curious as to how he would render her in still life. We decided to go right after work and I met her at the Ogilve train station and we walked over to Halsted and bussed it to Pilsen. Exactly at 6 we walked into this small art gallery that was completely empty save the art on the wall and after looking at the photo/stamping of her and glancing at the other pictures, I was sort of like....'umm, ok how long do we have to stay?' It was a small gallery, more like a small room and the ex was not yet in appearance but there was a table in the back hosting cheese, crackers, cookies and red and white wine. Liz helped herself to a glass of red and I took some cheese and wondered if we were 'supposed' to just yet.

Thinking he would appear at any minute, we began to more closely examine the art, each piece was devoted to an ex of one of the two artists displaying their work. Her ex had actually taken photographs of his girlfriends and made large stampings of their images, the stamps themselves were of numbers significant to the nature of his relationship with the particular woman in question. For my loverly friend, it was a date significant to the ending of their relationship. It was creative and awesome. The other artist whose work was in the room was a woman-her exes were represented by photographic prints with a quote underneath, something the guy had actually said to her during the course of the relationship. I could go into how powerful it was, intriguing, but I never considered myself an art critic. I liked it. I did.

While waiting for him to show, we stepped outside and saw another gallery across the street. Through the window were people dressed a little fancier than we were, all drinking wine, and the art in that room looked like sculptures. Liz and I wondered if it cost money to go in there and as we strolled a bit further down the street and she lit a cigarette, we concluded we did not belong there. We did not mind because it was a warm enough evening and we have no place to be.

But then on our right we realized was yet another gallery. With people inside. With beverages and an aim to look at things. Hesitantly we buzzed the buzzer, thinking if they didn't want us we'd find out soon enough. Turns out they did, or rather, the door was not locked. We walked in and were greeted with several ceramic pieces of art, very spatial and colorful, on the walls and mounted on square stands. A kind and smiling lady offered us refreshments and told us about the two artists in the gallery, who were also milling about answering questions. In the back of the room another artist's stuff was on display, textile pieces, felting, beeswax and bronze pieces all evoking fairly strong emotions from me. A gorgeous little toddler was putting on a show as his mother spoke to an elderly couple and a woman very SATC Charlotte-esque wearing a fabulous ensemble talked quietly to a group in the front. We conspired, Liz and I, and decided she was the gallery owner. When we walked out of this one the sidewalks were now filled with people. Finally we accepted this was a 'thing' and we began our exploration in earnest. Visited several more galleries, (there were at least 10 I think) and talked to a few artists, weaved in and out of people nearly as art-like as the art, made a dinner out of chocolates, cheeses, strawberries, runts and other snacks even ran into a few people we knew.

We did make it back to her ex's gallery and chatted him up a bit, met his wife and eventually left for a real meal slightly north of there. It was delightful. I saw some really amazing things.
It's called 2nd Fridays and is basically art gallery after art gallery opening it's doors to the public and rolling out new....art. Once a month every month apparently. I am so going to do this again.

#@%$!!

I met an exuberant and delightful woman this weekend who introduced me to a new way to not swear. Every time someone said something worthy or wacky she said "SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!" with a big emphasis on the SH and F part of the sentence. It was quite entertaining but did increase in me the desire to ACTUALLY swear.

I've lately been in use of an exagerrated "SHOOOOOT!" (which I think I got from a certain Miss Carlson) when things are not quite going my way but still revert to the very succint "sh%t!" when I make a mistake on the volleyball court, and apparently no amount of children within earshot has changed that. I definitely go through periods where I swear like a sailor and others where I have the language of an angel. I was raised not to swear but it was never ingrained so much that I felt any sort of heavy guilt if I let one slip. And when I am angry I do tend to let 'em fly, not so attractive but hey for some reason it always always makes me feel better.

Mind you I do NOT find any satisfaction is saying these things to an actual person and I find myself deeply affected when they are directed at another actual human being. It is a verbal weapon and can be as damaging as sexual harassment....but let's not vent about that today.

Let's just reiterate that I do swear....and I try not to....but I like it.

Shoooooot.

More Paolo....

I'm getting excited!

I just talked to my mom and I am getting really excited to do this 10k race in Minnesota in a week and a half. It will be my first race ever! I think I will run it very slowly but just the thought of finishing is so exciting! I'm gonna be a running fool! My sister will be there to take pictures and I will get to see some good MN friends over the weekend!

Woot.

opportunities abound

it's true what they say about positivity. it's also true what they say about sleep. you need it. more than what i have normally been getting lately. i have this thing where i need to veg for about two hours every day before i go to bed. no matter what time i get done with the days' activities. for example, no matter if i get done with running, 2 loads laundry, making food for the next week and washing dishes and making my mom's bday present at 1130pm. i still need to sit and stare for awhile, either at a book or at a television. i cannot fall asleep. which is unfortunate because then i am groggy tired the next day and more prone to sickness. i really digress though.

what i really wanted to talk about is how this weekend i discovered i can shop at a store again that i could not shop at before. it is my favorite store, a place i have shopped at since i was in 7th grade, yes, i still like their styles and i am not ashamed. but about 3 years ago i went there on a whim and discovered that i had outgrown them. literally. and i cried, right there in the store, both at the force of the realization that i really had gotten 'that big' and at the fact that the stupid store didn't carry larger sizes for people like me. i was standing at a clothes rack, arms full with pants that didn't fit and the bewildered young sales gentleman trying to help me looked like he was about to cry too. he had walked up to me as the awareness was dawning on me and asked if i needed help. i asked him if he had any sizes larger than the ones in my hands and he said he could call some other stores and see. i asked him if he had ever seen the size that i was looking for and he said 'oh for sure' but he was a bad liar. that was when the tears started streaming down my face and he was apalled on my behalf and tried to be really comforting. then i just handed him the clothes in as little of a huff as possible (it wasn't his fault), and walked out of the store. i wandered for a bit that day and discovered the Gap. they had stuff my size and though it was a relief, it was by far, a very traumatic day for me.

this weekend i went in there on a whim, i have no scale at home and have been only fairly certain that my body is changing as a result. i am running a lot these days in preparation for a 10k race April 26th, so i just thought, let's try it. let's just try it. i had a friend with me who i knew would be really supportive if it didn't work out, but much to my surprise and glee, it did work out. not only can i wear their largest size, but i can even go a size down on some styles. very very exciting. and to top it all off, i got word that two very promising opportunities may be coming my way soon. choices! i have choices and that is better than candy.

Favorite

The River Widens

The sun has risen before six am this Saturday morning and the world is golden brown cold, warmth hints through shadows of branches which decorate the path on which I run. Birds warble and sing in one ear and Kanye West spouts rhyme in my other and my breathing begins to regulate with each new step. This time I will go all the way, I tell myself. All the way to the end of the iTunes mix and all the way to the end of the path and back-I am certain it is a full five miles and I am certain my body is capable even if my mind is somewhat leery and skeptical.

In and out of each breath is a new prayer, this one for the day’s beauty, this one for my legs that are still moving, this one for the dream that I hope will one day come true, this one for patience and tolerance in the face of weekly tests, and this one for perserverance. At this point it is not really a question of getting there, there being the day of the actual race, or being able to make it to the finish line. I know I can do it, but each run becomes a gauge of my mental state. Sunshine and morning peace aside, thoughts swirl about my head and the conversation continues. It’s a modest start for me, I tell myself, and in the world of runners 6.2 miles is something of a whiz. But in the world of non-runners (where I lived for at least 28 years) it is something of a miraculous feat, and as I have progressed on this journey I have had all sorts of people tell me things about how dangerous it is or how much I will hurt the next day and in the moment their enthusiasm always manages to ensnare my belief.

But here, here on the road, where my pulse is quickened and my entire soul has learned to keep time with nature, I rework the conversations in my head. I will not feel pain so much as joy and I have been blessed with a body capable of accomplishing feats ever so much more than this even. So the words are pounded out step after step of convincing argument. To the left is the river and to the right are the tennis courts, and then the playground, and then a grassy knoll, and then some benches. On the water swims a lone duck, meandering down the way as though this alone were his sole purpose. And then around the next bend, the river widens and my breath catches and I pick up the pace. This is what it means to be alive and happy. This is what it means let your soul soar. And tomorrow, I am going to do it again.

Emotional Disconnect

My life is changing again and not clearly for the better, or rather, it is a leap into the unknown at the moment. For the last couple of years I have been lucky and blessed to have something in my life, something of which I cannot speak plainly at this point in the world of blogging, but suffice it to say it is something I will deeply miss. And in the foreknowledge of change I have been standing on the precipice of sadness and fear, which is not usually a place one prefers to be. But this coming change, along with the reading of a certain model of oneness has brought about some seriously new seriously deep self-awarenesses that I did not used to own.

For example, I recently realized that I have a deep rooted fear of people discovering I am worthless (wait, doesn't everybody?) but that this fear is driven by the very strong belief that it is true and so I am always semi-consciously trying to impress people I've just met with my perceived and yet disbelieved worthiness to delay their discovery of the truth. I also use the fact that I have a very short list of 'bosom' buddy soul mates as a sign that I am in fact, not worthy of more friendships, never mind the power and strength of these very important friendships. I always assume one should be surrounded by love as much as possible. So much do I believe these things, that when I begin to bond with a person who does not subsequently become a dependable person who calls me all the time, invites me to their birthdays or ask me how I am doing or if I want to hang out on a Friday night, that I immediately catalog the reason for this as being "I am not worthy of their friendship." Of course then I hate that person for awhile and imagine all sorts of ways I can hurt them the way they've hurt me. This, of course is a problem for several reasons.

But let me digress for a moment here and comment on something ELSE that also just occured to me almost this very minute, that I have a latent (and arguably true) belief one should be surrounded by love as much as possible. Let me also point out that through no one person's particular fault, from age 0 to age 7 I was not surrounded by proper love at all, mostly I was just locked in a basement or beaten or abused. Then, in an attempt to create in me strength and resilience, the parenting I received from 7 to age 18 was that of intellectual reasoning, firm resolve and strictness. Rarely admiration or affection at that time--never was I certain that the me that I was deserved anything, certainly not the wealth of loving support and inherent belief in my greatness that I have since seen many other parents give their children. I knew I was loved intellectually but never grew sure of my right to it and always longed for the reckless abandon of affection. I think that this lack has lent itself to a perceived exacerbated need in my present life to attempt to manifest lots of love to make up for the past. According to a therpist I once had, though, this can never be regained, not from people anyway, not to make up for a childhood now past.

It is this belief of needing to be surrounded by love and the other, that I am not deserving or worthy that has me on this endless road of frustration and essentially self-inflicted pain. In the past, I let people mistreat me because I thought that was the only way for me to find love, sounds crazy I know but crazy is as crazy does. I used to spend time with people whose favorite pastime was to humiliate me because I thought I could make them be my friends. I have also let bitterness stand in the way of true human camaraderie with people who, though not meant to be my bestest of friends, could and would provide unlooked for love and support, just because they did not call me to hang out with them regularly, or canceled plans with me when I was so much looking forward to it. I never recognized that hurt as something not belonging to the situation at hand. But now I do, which is of course, very liberating.

I have a handful of friends who are my soul mate best friends, all of which love me deeply and their love gives me strength, they are most of them in different states or countries which can be challenging, of course, and my family and I have grown into an affectionate love that did not previously exist, and I still think that I will quest for love as much as I can, both in giving and receiving, but I think the journey will be less painful, more eye-opening and accepting. I am blessed, I know, to be on this path. And I look forward to things as yet unknown.....

Think it out.

"The reality of man is his thought, not his material body. The thought force and the animal force are partners. Although man is part of the animal creation, he possesses a power of thought superior to all other created beings.

If a man's thought is constantly aspiring towards heavenly subjects then he does become saintly; if on the other hand his thought does not soar, but is directed downwards to centre itself upon the things of this world, he grows more and more material until he arrives at a state little better than that of a mere animal."

'Abdu'l-Baha, Paris Talks

"O My servants! Could ye but aprehend with what wonders of My munificence and bounty I have willed to entrust your souls, ye would, or of a truth, rid yourselves of attachment to all created things, and would gain a true knowledge of your own selves-a knowledge which is the same as the comprehension of Mine own Being. Ye would find yourselves independent of all else but Me, and perceive, with your inner and outer eye, and as manifest as the revelation of My effulgent Name, the seas of My loving-kindness and bounty moving within you."

Baha'u'llah, Gleanings

Wow, okay. So If I could but aprehend it, all my attachments would fall away? And a true knowledge of self would emerge? Lately I have been struggling with absolute faith and trust. Trust that the pathways will open for me and that abundance is what God most wants for me. I am a victim of thought, negative thought, sheltered thought, imprisoned thought and thought bogged down by my past and though it riccochets back and forth with positivity, joy and love, it still exists. I have been grinding down my inner awarenesses, however, peeling away the onion and lately every day a new awareness emerges and that is really exciting. I am looking to vibrate on higher frequencies and eradicate the shadow of doubt that obscures my path.....here's to perserverance and determination!

Craver

My cravings have not been particularly distinctive. Mostly I have just wanted food in general. But at the moment I am craving a nice submarine sandwich, with lettuce tomatoes and meat and cheese. Specifically the lettuce and tomato...now that I have written about it I can promptly forget about it-as a friend suggested.....

I am in love with a 20-year old Scottish boy named Paolo

Paolo Nutini - Last Request lyrics

I am also quite enamoured with this young lady:

Blogilicious

I am infinitely better this afternoon. Internet speed greatly increased. Weather minutely warmer, just enough to fend off cranky. And the sun shining and a well-written letter executed and sent. It does not fail to amaze me how long it takes for me to write somethings sometimes though. I have been here for four hours. Granted the first hour and a half were spent surfing and trying to find a song online whose name and artist I do not know. Ah....I would like to toast idleness. Followed so closely by productivity, a thing seldom seen. I am pleased. Thoughts of negativity banished. Hooray for the world. Love for all.

Patience is a virtue

I am sorely lacking in patience at the moment. In fact I have a very strong desire to scream and toss this ancient piece of crap laptop across the library. I think it may be because today I am challenged with fasting, pms'ing, and this very slow internet connection which is making it nearly impossible for me to get any work done when work definitely needs to be done today.

I was pleasant on the train ride-the one that took an extra half hour to get me here than it normally does. I was even tolerating my icy cold fingers, which make it hard to type. But I have now been here for 3 hours and the average time it takes to download a web page has been approximately 2-5 minutes. And I am not kidding. The work I am working on is severely behind schedule as a result. GRR. Double Grr and a couple of swear words. Hm. So there! I have hard time at moments like these being positive. Grr again.

Good times food times

The Fast has begun. Joy is a feeling I am choosing to manifest and love is a thing I shall give freely as often as I can and this time around we are really learning to appreciate the value of sacrifice.

Hat Monster

It has not been a good year for mittens, hats and scarves at the Garrett residence. Sadly, many have chosen to run away rather than live with the constant stress of keeping my extremities warm. It's been tough. I personally have been enjoying the bitter winds, many inches of snow and the incessant face-biting of each winter storm, but they have been worked to the core and after demandig a raise which I could not in good conscience grant, they have moved on to bigger and better pastures. Or gutters. I don't really know.

My most devastating loss was indeed the red hat, purchased on a whim and delighted in for it's fashionable and modern twist on keeping the head warm. But by far the most baffling disappearance was that of a true staple piece, the acrylic woven black hat, last seen as it was being thrown off the end of the bed in the moments before I drifted off to sleep some few nights ago.

The next morning I went to grab it from the floor and it was not there. I assumed it made it's way under the bed and chose not to worry, grabbed a more fashionable, less sensible piece for the morning commute. My ears were cold that day, but I looked good. The next day, reason again overtook me and I set out to discover the wearabouts of the aforementioned 'staple' piece and to my surprise, I could not find it. I even got a flashlight to assist in the search. After more time than I had went by, I dug through the reserves and pulled out a matching hat and scarf set that I have long-since loathed, manifested detachment and left the house.

Now for the first time all winter am I finally joining the ranks of "I wish it was over already" but my reasons are...unique. All I can figure is that the Hat Monster took my baby away. I thought he didn't exist....but, sigh, I guess that he does.

Amendment

I would like to make an amendment to a former post in light of recent strong evidence to the power of the written word and the power of my thoughts on my own life and existence. I would like to resoundingly state, inasmuch as one can resoundingly state anything, that there is MORE THAN ENOUGH TO GO AROUND OF EVERY GOOD AND WONDERFUL THING WE WANT FOR OURSELVES. Specifically that there are plenty and numerous of those wonderful and amazing men out there for all of us who so desire to have one. It is just a matter of me picking the best one....and I'm terribly picky, especially with SO MANY OPTIONS.

there. it's out there. now universe, do your work.

if you have questions, please see post "Have I been that into me?" then respond.

MUSTARD!

I love mustard.

But I do not like dijon mustard.

I also do not like restaurants that only carry dijon mustard. (snobs, I say)


My current project at work has got me researching condiments and I came across the Plochmans web page. Guess what? The Bahai Faith is mentioned on their website. Interesting, huh? I will cut and paste some of that interesting for you below:

Which country is the world’s largest producer of mustard seed?

Answer: Canada. You can find Canadian mustard seed used in mustard factories in France and Germany as well as in North America.

How long have people been using mustard for seasoning?

Answer: For recorded history, and probably, therefore, for a long time before that.
Here are some dates that we found mentioned:

Abraham is said to have served tongue with mustard.

The Egyptians are said to have eaten mustard seeds by chewing them along with meat.

6th century BC: Pythagoras mentioned mustard as a cure for scorpion bites. (Okay, that’s not a seasoning, but it is interesting. It appears that Pythagoras had theories about more things than right triangles.)

6th Century BC: The story of Buddha, the lady, and the mustard seed.

500 BC: Aristophanes wrote of mustard-spiced stews.

200 BC: The Roman playwright, Plautus, in Pseudolus, has the cook saying: "It is rubbed with criminal mustard, which burns the eyes of those who grate it."

1st Century AD: Pliny the Elder claimed that mustard would improve lazy housewives.

9th Century AD: During Charlemagne’s reign, mustard was cultivated on imperial lands and in the monasteries in Paris.

1758: We have found unconfirmed references that Benjamin Franklin was responsible for bringing mustard to the United States.

What are the origins of the term "Mustard?"

Answer: There are several theories, one that dates back to Roman times based on the use of "Must" or unfermented wine to make mustard. Two other theories come from the town motto of the town of Dijon France.
Originally mustard was called Sinapis. Some students claim that during Roman times the word Sinapis started to be replaced by words such as Mustum, Mustarum, and Mustardum as new wine, or "Must" was mixed with mustard seeds to make a paste.
More recent theories come from France. In one, the Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Bold, gave the town of Dijon a coat of arms in 1382 with the motto "MOULT ME TARDE" (based on Multum Ardeo – I ardently desire). As the story goes, the motto was adopted by the town’s many mustard-makers, who eventually shortened it into Moul-tarde (to burn much).
Similarly, another story has it that the motto was given the citizens of Dijon by King Charles VI. In this version, the motto "MOULT ME TARDE" meant "Off to Battle." A humorous side note on this story was that some opponents of the Dijon army saw the motto but missed the "ME," in the middle, and came to believe they were dealing with an army of mustard-makers.

What religious writings include references to mustard?

Answer: Many of the world’s largest religions. We have found references from Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, Bahai, Judaism, and Hinduism.

From the Persian Bayan of Sayyid `Ali Muhammad Shirazi:
"There is no-one but that, should he mention the letter of paradise,the spirits of the angels connected to them shall at that moment, gaze upon him and bless him on behalf of God. But when someone mentions the letters of hell, should he do so out of love for them, the spirits of the Satans of hell shall gaze upon him. If he does not seek refuge with God, they shall bring upon him whatever they are capable of, even if it be only a perturbation of the heart. But if he should seek refuge with God, and invoke his anger against them, they shall be unable to find any faith into him, nor shall they be able to have his faith even to the extent of nine ninths of ten tenths of a grain of mustard-seed."

From the writings of Bahá'u'lláh:
"Be vigilant, that ye may not do injustice to anyone, be it to the extent of a grain of mustard seed. Tread ye the path of justice, for this, verily, is the straight path . . . Decide justly between men, and be ye the emblems of justice amongst them . . . Beware not to deal unjustly with any one that appealeth to you, and entereth beneath your shadow . . . "


What famous conqueror sent his opponent a sack of mustard seeds for intimidation?

Answer: Alexander the Great.
Darius, King of Persia, sent Alexander a bag of sesame seeds, meant to suggest the number of Darius’ troops. Alexander, in return, sent Darius a bag of mustard seeds, not only more numerous because of their smaller size, but also more potent and fiery than sesame.

How is mustard heat different from pepper heat?

The sensation of heat from mustard comes from a volatile oil released when mustard seed is mixed with water. In very hot mustards the "heat" travels up the nose, even making your eyes water. It then dissipates, which we think is a favorable feature of mustard. Pepper heat, on the other hand, is concentrated in the mouth. It does not dissipate quickly, and it can be cumulative.