Truer words

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Nelson Mandela

Ya know?

I am sitting here at the computer, with a headache, sipping a Diet Coke from Sonic (which is probably why I have the headache), thinking about taking a shower. Being lazy.

There are three pre-teen and newly teen-aged girls cleaning up around my house right now. They work for food - it comes in handy. And they're highly entertaining to eavesdrop on for short periods of time. I say that because the human psyche is fragile. There is only so much giggling, rapid fire free association chatter and dramatic re-enactments it can take.

Sample: "Oh my God, I had - like - seven dejavu's yesterday - it was so weird -"

"Oh, I know and then you fell all those times playing volleyball yesterday in the front yard-"

"Oh, I know - I fell seventeen times playing volleyball in the front yard -"

"I have been scratching my toe all morning, I don't know why - something must have bitten me -"

"Oh, I know - I hate that -"

"Oh (notices red bump on side of toe) this must be why-" (friend scratches toe for her)

"Oh, I know, there's been something biting me too -"

"Oh, remember when my mom saw that bug?"

"And we had to make up our own Yahtzee score paper -"

"- Oh, I know!"

It goes on and on.

But, they do work for food.

Shove me in the shallow water

My six year-old daughter asked me the other day if everyone has a deepest, darkest secret. What a great question.

I've mentioned this to a quite a few people and - without pause or exception - each person's response was a resounding "YES."

Now, I'm sure it's true that we all have what we consider to be a deepest, darkest secret. I just think "deepest" and "darkest" are subjective terms. One person's deepest, darkest secret could be driving away from the store without putting the grocery cart up, another's could be wearing women's lingerie under hunting gear.

I also think deepest, darkest secrets are an illusion. There is nothing secret from God. Thankfully so.

As for Savannah's inquiry? I did what any self respecting parent would do when faced with an intense, thought provoking, controversial issue such as this one.

I changed the subject.

I'm no Aesop

A quick update.

I have spent the day on my butt watching tv so far. I'm finished catching up with Battlestar Galactica and now I'm watching the 101 Most Unforgettable Moments on Saturday Night Live.

I've been eating chips, cookies, and drinking can after can of Diet Coke (for balance). I'm now contemplating cracking open a beer and popping a frozen pizza in the oven. And I just remembered there's football to watch.

What is the moral of this story?

Musing on a Saturday night

It's raining, it's pouring, my blog has been so boring...

I've been slacking again, but really - there's so much to say, yet so much that shouldn't be said. Where do I begin?

My house is clean. I keep thinking of the movie Poltergeist when the little fat psychic lady announces, "This house is clean," at the end. Yes, that's how old I am. I still think that was a fun movie.

Anyway. I took my children (two anyway) to the movies and the mall today. It was really nice. Joseph still lets me hug him in public, which is a treat that's not going to last much longer. Savannah still gets thrilled over getting fairy wings and wearing them through the mall.

I love deeply and I am deeply loved. It doesn't get much better than that, does it?

A day in the life

Today I ran late for work, scorched my blouse while ironing it, and left my handheld recorder at home complete with important audio for a story I had to finish today for tomorrow's newscast. I did not realize this until 3:30 this afternoon. It takes almost an hour to get to my house from work.

I got very angry at a co-worker, who got very angry right back at me. Everyone at work was stressed out because of unforseen issues no one had time to deal with, and I drank a cup of coffee sweetened with Stevia to appease another co-worker who is health conscious and worried about my saccharin intake. I still have the nasty aftertaste in my mouth.

Today I got to cuddle with my sleepy six year-old when she woke up in my bed. My kids did a great job of getting themselves ready for school, so I got them all there on time.

Even though I left my recorder at home, I had two friends who would have brought it to me if they could have, and one wonderful friend who did bring it to me at no small inconvenience to himself.

At work I knocked out a lot of things I'd gotten behind on and wrote a story I'm proud of. My angry co-worker didn't dwell on it or make me talk about our anger, which I appreciate. And I recorded all of my stuff, including the news story for tomorrow and my HEB commercial, without having to stay too late.

When I got home my kids had finished their homework, their Tuesday folders were great, and we enjoyed dinner out together at a restaurant. We walked through Walmart and I got some things for myself I'd been putting off, and when we got back they got their clothes ready for tomorrow and went to bed without a hitch.

Who said there's no balance to life?

Warren Peese

That is the name of the great American novel I'm going to write.

I've decided.

It will be the heartwarming story of the boy next door everyone overlooks until he saves the world. He'll be the talk of the universe for about a week. Then an ugly rumor surfaces tying him to the very naughty Mai Antonia.

His friends turn on him, he loses his job at Walmart, and his dog runs away.

Trying to find meaning in it all, he writes a song. It's a hit. He becomes the next big country music megastar, and makes a movie called "Red's."

Can you tell I'm bored?

On average

Someone said something profound to me today.

We were talking about why people turn out the way they do. Nature or nurture? Personally, I think it's a little of both. But I digress.

I mentioned my 19 year-old son, Nathan. He's the subject of many of my conversations. She said, "Nathan is too artistic to ever fit in, and that's what he's trying to do. He'll either figure it out, or he won't."

Her simple statement made me realize it was true for me, too. I have always tried to fit in and it's never worked, and suddenly I understood why. Not because I was doing something wrong, but because I'm different. And Nathan's different. Truth be told, all of my kids are different and none of us will ever fit in. And that's ok; painful when you're young and wanting so much to be "average" and part of the crowd, but ok.

I finally figured it out.

I think Katie's known it all along. Savannah's ego won't allow her to care. Joseph is struggling with it now. He's so sensitive it may be a while before he gets it. Zach adjusted. And Nathan? Who knows.

I hope he's not 40 before he realizes he's an octagon in a triangle world.

Saturdays and science fiction

I have been watching a marathon session of Battlestar Galactica - the new one which I missed the premiere of 3 years ago. So I'm catching up with series of DVD's a friend let me borrow.

I wonder how the writing sessions for this show went. They threw in some sex scenes to kick off the mini-series. Good for ratings. Some fancy camera work to update the look of it. 2.3 starship battle scenes per hour. A tough chick, of course, is the best pilot. Very PC. And a hot blonde is the prototype of the soul-less villain. Hmmm. I wonder who their target audience is?

Oh well. I've been sucked into the vortex. I'm diving back into the couch with a gi-normous bag of Fritos and bean dip. If no one hears from me in the next two days send some frackin' reinforcements.

Sleepless nights

For the past two nights I have woken up slightly past 2 am and can't go back to sleep.

I never have trouble sleeping. I've slept standing up, holding a baby, while leaned against a door frame - on more than one occasion.

Insomnia is not my friend.

Two am strikes, my eyes pop open and my mind starts racing. It's all over. Inevitably, I fall into a deep sleep 20 minutes before my alarm goes off.

I took a Tylenol PM tonight and I've had a glass and a half of wine. I am very relaxed. Still, I wonder if insomnia will strike again.

On a positive note... Well... I... hm.

There you have it.

Top 10 things I've learned from reading other people's blogs

1. There is such a thing as bad sex.

2. Some of my best friends are freaks - in a good way.

3. Not all men are turned on by their wives joking about latent lesbian tendencies.

4. Tung Fu is not just another lost Martial Art. (Wanted: 32nd Degree Tung Fu master.)

5. Tragedy can strike closer than we imagine.

6. Friends rally around each other even if they harbor old grievances.

7. Nude hot tubbing is alive and well on the Prairie.

8. Idiocy is alive and well at SHECO.

9. Garage sale hopping could be hazardous to your health.

10. Some men don't like women touching their Willie on the first date.

Unforgettable

Well, I've been having so much fun on everybody else's blog I've neglected my own.

It's been kind of boring anyway. Monday's post was prophetic - work was insane all week and I'm still trying to recover. Friday night was the start of football season, and evidently no one realized this until Thursday. I'm still not sure if the log I programmed for tomorrow is going to work.

Zach is back from Iraq! I got the phone call this morning - I wish I could be there to see him. Hopefully he'll get to come for a visit soon.

We went to a funeral yesterday. It was the first funeral I'd ever been to of a murder victim.

A little background:

When I was 14, I was make-out buddies with a guy who was one of a group of friends who all hung out together in an empty, wooded lot across the street from my best friend's house. They were older - from 17 to early 20's - and they'd all known each other since they were little. My current husband was in this crowd and that's how we met.

Anyway, Jeff and I broke up. I ended up with Rob, but remained friends with Jeff and his beautiful girlfriend, Barbie.

They were heavy partyers, but ended up getting married after Barbie got pregnant. I was 16 by then and Barbie was the first pregnant person close to my age that I'd been around. It scared the hell out of me. Obviously it didn't scare me enough.

We stayed friends for a few years, but some people lose touch after a while, and that's how it was with us. They kept drinking and partying and ended up divorced. The last time I saw Barbie was when their second son, Sean, was a baby. The last time I saw Jeff was in an episode of Cops a few years later. He was getting thrown to the ground and handcuffed for kidnapping his own children.

Well, Jeff's mom was a wonderful Englishwoman. She met his dad when he was stationed in England during the early 50's. They married and she moved back to the States with him. In 1962, Jeff's dad died. His mom was left to raise three small children alone. She never re-married. She went to secretarial school, raised her kids the best way she could, and had fun while she did it.

She loved life, her kids, her grandkids, fishing, and traveling.

Her grandson, Sean, shot her several times in the head last week, stole her car and credit cards, and cruised to Florida. He's still there, waiting to be expedited back to Houston for her murder. He didn't make it to the funeral.

There was a slideshow of her life yesterday at the service. She was a gorgeous young woman. Black and white pictures couldn't hide the mischief in her eyes. Her spark and verve seemed as real as if she were standing right there with us. The years rolled by with every click of the slideshow. She got a little older and a little heavier, but in every photo she sparkled like a diamond.

Every smiling picture was bittersweet, because we all knew how that wonderful life would end. But she didn't.

In the final analysis, it took me an hour to decide what to wear to her funeral, Jeff didn't remember me at all, (is that a testament to my forgettableness? Or the affects of long term drug abuse on the human mind?), and Barbie looked like a 60 year-old bar queen.

And none of that will matter when it's our slideshow up on the screen.