Ramblings, Senseless and Obsolete

The End

I started blogging in February of 2005. I began with a fiber blog--a place to share what I was doing with knitting, spinning, dyeing and weaving. And then a few weeks later I started this one. This was a place that I intended to share the other creative side--scrapbooking, art journaling, ATCs, and just assorted thoughts about living.

But in the last year my blog has become the place that I get on periodically to apologize for not blogging regularly.

I am at a different place now.

I have the studio and it is successfully plugging along. A great deal of my creative energy is going into photography and being a successful business owner. And it has been very satisfying.

Many good things have come out of this. One thing is that when I am home, I have learned to be AT HOME. If I am at the studio I work and am thinking work. But when I get home, I am truly with my family. Not distracted with business thoughts. Not busy on the computer. Not even tucked away in my craft room scrapping. But sitting at the counter talking with whomever is making supper, playing Dance Dance Revolution with the girls, or just sitting and watching TV with Eric and the kids.

And it has been great! This has fed my soul so deeply and filled with with such happiness and joy.

I have been torn because I have friends on line that I want to keep in touch with. But sometimes I feel like trying to blog and do all this on line stuff is taking me away from THIS life. And THIS is the only one I have. I really feel like I need to stop feeling guilty about not blogging and just live the life I am in, the one I choose and the one that God wants me too. Sometimes you do have to choose between 2 good things. It's not always one good thing and one bad thing. As I have been making the decision to keep blogging or not, I've felt really bad about giving this up. I have loved having this place to write and these wonderful friends to write to. It has gotten me through some difficult times. And every person has been a real blessing to me. But I don't feel like I have something to say right now. I haven't for months. And it is silly to pay the annual fee to do nothing but apologize for  not having more to say.

But I am at a new place in my life. This chapter has to end.

Feel free to email me at any time. I do want to keep in touch with my friends! This has been wonderful! My wish for all of you, all of us, is that we can live the life we are meant to live and be blessed and fulfilled--no matter where that path is taking you--God speed!

ReRuns Part 2

Now that the WGA writers' strike is over, I am apparently on strike. :-) Just trying to ride out the last few weeks of my time at typepad. This is from my very first month at typepad. March of 2005. I still think of this kid. So I thought I'd share it again.

To the Kid in the Red Beret

My family was very active in church camp each summer. My parents and their Sunday School class spent one work weekend every spring and fall fixing cabins, building out buildings, painting and some such. Each summer, my mother was a councelor for 1 week. My brother and I always attended a week of camp for our age group. And once we were teens, we worked as CITs (counselor in training) or councelors.

I always got more out of being a counselor than I did as a camper. One summer, there was this one kid there. He was 12? 13? About that age. He was also fat. And church camp or not, the kid got teased. A lot. But he was the COOLEST person! He wore a red beret all the time. Yeah, this kid was his own person. He was comfortable with himself and didn't care about peer pressure. He knew who he was and was happy with that. I admired him. Even though I was several years older than he was, I knew that this was the type of person I wanted to be, but wasn't sure I was brave enough to do it.

In the mornings, the campers were split into smaller groups for Bible lessons and craft projects. I don't remember the lesson or anything except we were discussion life in big general terms.

This chubby kid looked at my mom, and in answer to a question he said, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

He wasn't sad. He wasn't depressed. He wasn't upset about it. Just factual. "God never said life would be easy."

We have remembered this kid for years. We stopped volunteering at church camp when my dad became ill. He had ALS. Lou Gehrig's Disease. Mom and I used to say periodically, when discussing Dad's illness, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

After he died, my brother and I went with my mother to pick out his casket and plan the funeral. In the car, on the way home, my mother said, as much to herself as to John and I, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

During the next decade, she and I were say this to each other in answer to work difficulties, problems with the kids and such. In 1999, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer--the same cancer that took her mother's life. After the first appointment with her oncologist, Mom said, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

And three years later, after we had buried Mom, I thought to myself, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

What brought this up? I am still sorting through boxes of stuff from Mom's house. I can only do it in small doses. I found a box with my brother's Boy Scout stuff. Did you know that part of the boy scout uniform was a red beret 20 or 30 years ago?

I found this red beret. And thought of that kid. I don't even know his name. But I can still see him. Fat. Freckled. Longish brown hair. T-shirt and long cut off shorts. I wonder what happened to him. Is he still true to who he is? Did the world finally beat him down? Did he always keep the strength to stand true to himself? To stand for God? Did he find security in the phrase "God never said life would be easy" or not? Did he even remember saying it?  Does he have any idea how deeply, how permanently he touched me and my mother? God bless that kid!

My family was very active in church camp each summer. My parents and their Sunday School class spent one work weekend every spring and fall fixing cabins, building out buildings, painting and some such. Each summer, my mother was a councelor for 1 week. My brother and I always attended a week of camp for our age group. And once we were teens, we worked as CITs (counselor in training) or councelors.

I always got more out of being a counselor than I did as a camper. One summer, there was this one kid there. He was 12? 13? About that age. He was also fat. And church camp or not, the kid got teased. A lot. But he was the COOLEST person! He wore a red beret all the time. Yeah, this kid was his own person. He was comfortable with himself and didn't care about peer pressure. He knew who he was and was happy with that. I admired him. Even though I was several years older than he was, I knew that this was the type of person I wanted to be, but wasn't sure I was brave enough to do it.

In the mornings, the campers were split into smaller groups for Bible lessons and craft projects. I don't remember the lesson or anything except we were discussion life in big general terms.

This chubby kid looked at my mom, and in answer to a question he said, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

He wasn't sad. He wasn't depressed. He wasn't upset about it. Just factual. "God never said life would be easy."

We have remembered this kid for years. We stopped volunteering at church camp when my dad became ill. He had ALS. Lou Gehrig's Disease. Mom and I used to say periodically, when discussing Dad's illness, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

After he died, my brother and I went with my mother to pick out his casket and plan the funeral. In the car, on the way home, my mother said, as much to herself as to John and I, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

During the next decade, she and I were say this to each other in answer to work difficulties, problems with the kids and such. In 1999, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer--the same cancer that took her mother's life. After the first appointment with her oncologist, Mom said, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

And three years later, after we had buried Mom, I thought to myself, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."

What brought this up? I am still sorting through boxes of stuff from Mom's house. I can only do it in small doses. I found a box with my brother's Boy Scout stuff. Did you know that part of the boy scout uniform was a red beret 20 or 30 years ago?

I found this red beret. And thought of that kid. I don't even know his name. But I can still see him. Fat. Freckled. Longish brown hair. T-shirt and long cut off shorts. I wonder what happened to him. Is he still true to who he is? Did the world finally beat him down? Did he always keep the strength to stand true to himself? To stand for God? Did he find security in the phrase "God never said life would be easy" or not? Did he even remember saying it?  Does he have any idea how deeply, how permanently he touched me and my mother? God bless that kid!

Re runs.

Yet another snow storm hits NW Indiana. Austin had a flat tire on the way to school on the interstate. Eric had to leave the girls at the dentist to go help Austin. I had to plow through two feet of drifting snow in places to try to get to the dentist. I made it. Then Eric ended up getting pulled out of snow TWICE! When he saw a snow plow go through he called me at the studio and said to leave immediately! So I did and plowed my little beetle through the road that was already drifting shut again. Then Austin called and got ANOTHER flat from a pot hole on his way home! Ugh! What a day.

So please forgive me for what I am about to do. I'm re-running an old entry. Feel free to skip if you read it before!

Sports and Perfection and Success (or why there is no crying in baseball)

First of all, I ought to admit, I hate baseball. Really really hate it. I think it is because my big brother was on little league teams growing up. Of course, Mom and I walked to Lafayette Park to watch the games. It was hot and sticky. The bleachers were hard. Scary people like the mentally retarded man/boy, Timmy Tornado and the psychopathic Thomaschzeski brothers hung out there. Timmy Tornado meant no harm but the Thomaschzeski brothers probably did. I was shy and uncomfortable in crowds. I've never been much of an outside girl--at least not when it's so hot that I will sweat. Anyway, that's the long version. Short version, I don't like baseball.

Consequently, there are certain facts about baseball that take me by surprise. I hear other people talking baseball and just fill in the blanks in my knowledge with assumptions that are frequently wrong.

Like, do you realize that a GOOD batter in baseball bats 300? What is that? 300 hits a game? 300 home runs a year? What? Eric, (brilliant DH who knows about baseball but does not insist on watching it, talking about it, or even caring about it unless the Cubs or White Sox are in the world series or might go there or something. I wasn't really paying attention, but I digress.) Eric told me batting 300 means they get 3 hits out of every 10 times at bat. What???? JUST 3 hits? Why didn't anyone tell me this in high school gym class? For a totally non athletic girl if I hit 1 out of 10 then I would have been doin' the happy dance all the way to first base! But instead I thought I was a failure.

But it's facts like these that reveal my baseball ignorance. I mean, these guys get millions and millions of dollars and STILL miss 7 out of 10 times??? That's not very good. If you had asked me, I would have thought that to keep your job you should HIT 7 and MISS 3. And that's just to KEEP your job!

But NO! Players who bat 300 are the really good ones, I'm told. So there are successful, professional players doing less.

Hmmmm. This totally makes me rethink my perfectionist tendencies.

So if I go 3 out of every 10 days without losing my temper, I'm a success! So day before yesterday when I stomped down the stairs yelling, "Can't you guys just be nice? Why do you have to scream at each other?" I am still doing really really well if I don't do it more that oh, 7 times out of 10?

Out of my 9 kids, if ONLY 3 of them don't become ax murders I will be in the parenting Hall of Fame!

If I mutter, "Stupid old crone" only 7 times out of ten with my mother in law starts pontificating about politics, I am STILL one of the world's best daughters in law!

Alright, I know I shouldn't use this statistic to excuse bad behavior on my part. I hear ya! I hear ya!

But it has opened my eyes about excusing past bad behavior. I do have perfectionist tendencies. And if I say something that I regret later, I tend to beat myself up over it--even after the apologies have cleared the air. I'll think I'm insensitive or cruel or something. I'll get mad about my character. But in baseball standards, the occasional misstep still has me in the top of the batting league. KWIM?

Perfection of 100% is impossible. (There are no 6.0s in baseball) I like that baseball says good enough actually IS good enough! There is acceptance and even praise of people who do their best and it is good enough to be rewarded rather than be condemned for the 7 misses. No expects 100% perfect performance 100% of the time. The players strive for the best and keep trying to improve, but know, and forgive themselves ahead of time, that they will never bat 1000, or even 900 or 800.

What really sticks in my craw is that I learned this great lesson of self acceptance from BASEBALL of all things! All these years I should have been watching and loving baseball with it's "Just go out there and do the best you can, win one for the team" attitude instead of loving figure skating--a sport that is much less forgiving and expects perfection every single time!

First of all, I ought to admit, I hate baseball. Really really hate it. I think it is because my big brother was on little league teams growing up. Of course, Mom and I walked to Lafayette Park to watch the games. It was hot and sticky. The bleachers were hard. Scary people like the mentally retarded man/boy, Timmy Tornado and the psychopathic Thomaschzeski brothers hung out there. Timmy Tornado meant no harm but the Thomaschzeski brothers probably did. I was shy and uncomfortable in crowds. I've never been much of an outside girl--at least not when it's so hot that I will sweat. Anyway, that's the long version. Short version, I don't like baseball.

Consequently, there are certain facts about baseball that take me by surprise. I hear other people talking baseball and just fill in the blanks in my knowledge with assumptions that are frequently wrong.

Like, do you realize that a GOOD batter in baseball bats 300? What is that? 300 hits a game? 300 home runs a year? What? Eric, (brilliant DH who knows about baseball but does not insist on watching it, talking about it, or even caring about it unless the Cubs or White Sox are in the world series or might go there or something. I wasn't really paying attention, but I digress.) Eric told me batting 300 means they get 3 hits out of every 10 times at bat. What???? JUST 3 hits? Why didn't anyone tell me this in high school gym class? For a totally non athletic girl if I hit 1 out of 10 then I would have been doin' the happy dance all the way to first base! But instead I thought I was a failure.

But it's facts like these that reveal my baseball ignorance. I mean, these guys get millions and millions of dollars and STILL miss 7 out of 10 times??? That's not very good. If you had asked me, I would have thought that to keep your job you should HIT 7 and MISS 3. And that's just to KEEP your job!

But NO! Players who bat 300 are the really good ones, I'm told. So there are successful, professional players doing less.

Hmmmm. This totally makes me rethink my perfectionist tendencies.

So if I go 3 out of every 10 days without losing my temper, I'm a success! So day before yesterday when I stomped down the stairs yelling, "Can't you guys just be nice? Why do you have to scream at each other?" I am still doing really really well if I don't do it more that oh, 7 times out of 10?

Out of my 9 kids, if ONLY 3 of them don't become ax murders I will be in the parenting Hall of Fame!

If I mutter, "Stupid old crone" only 7 times out of ten with my mother in law starts pontificating about politics, I am STILL one of the world's best daughters in law!

Alright, I know I shouldn't use this statistic to excuse bad behavior on my part. I hear ya! I hear ya!

But it has opened my eyes about excusing past bad behavior. I do have perfectionist tendencies. And if I say something that I regret later, I tend to beat myself up over it--even after the apologies have cleared the air. I'll think I'm insensitive or cruel or something. I'll get mad about my character. But in baseball standards, the occasional misstep still has me in the top of the batting league. KWIM?

Perfection of 100% is impossible. (There are no 6.0s in baseball) I like that baseball says good enough actually IS good enough! There is acceptance and even praise of people who do their best and it is good enough to be rewarded rather than be condemned for the 7 misses. No expects 100% perfect performance 100% of the time. The players strive for the best and keep trying to improve, but know, and forgive themselves ahead of time, that they will never bat 1000, or even 900 or 800.

What really sticks in my craw is that I learned this great lesson of self acceptance from BASEBALL of all things! All these years I should have been watching and loving baseball with it's "Just go out there and do the best you can, win one for the team" attitude instead of loving figure skating--a sport that is much less forgiving and expects perfection every single time!

Quick catch up

The Diary had their first gig at a coffee house in Lafayette last night. They did really well! This isn't Hayden's first band so he is a seasoned pro when it comes to performing. But this was Melanie's first. And she did very well! I know she was nervous, but it didn't show at all! I'm very proud of them.

Eric and I drove down to watch and I took pics for their myspace. Hayden's parents were there also taking video and being supportive. Yes, we were the oldest and only "old folks" there I think. LOL! A good time was had by all!

One thing Melanie has always wanted to do was to be a writer. So it is very cool to see her using these skills in a very practical and positive manner! I have to admit, there was a time when I did encourage her to have "something to fall back on." But I wonder if sometimes I do my kids a disservice by saying this. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying The Diary will get a recording deal next week. But I wonder what happens if we plan for failure. KWIM?

Just a quick link

This touched me today.

http://www.stservicemovie.com/

12x12 paper racks

Is there a scrapper within driving distance of Rensselaer who needs 12x12 paper racks? I have two racks that are like 4.5 feet tall and have 30 clear acrylic trays that are about 1" deep that hold 12x12 paper each. I have 2 of these. I bought them for maybe $50 each when my LSS closed. The footprint is just over a foot square.  I am wanting to get my craft room cleaned and re-organized and these need to go. I don't want to just drop them off at the good will, but I will if I have too. But it occurred to me this morning that I might actually know someone who could use them!  I can take a picture this evening and email it to you if you want to see them. So email me!

Am at a crossroads

My blog has become a guilt inducing item. I used to have lots to say and many creative things to share.

But as my real life has become busier, I have less to say on my blog. Not necessarily less time to say things, just less of a need to say things here. That probably means something. Actually, that probably means Something. I just don't know what. And I don't know what I'll do about blogging. It's almost time to renew again. So it's decision time. Time to think.

What is with "parents" today?

And by "parents" I mean people who marry people who already have children and claim to be parents.

Melanie has a firend and while I don't know the girl really well, by all accounts she's a pretty good kid. She is probably as annoying as all teenagers are. I'm not going to say she's a saint. But  typical kid who doesn't get into any real trouble--no pregnancies, no drinking, no drugs. But yeah. Since we currently have 5 teenagers (and two very advanced 12 year olds) in our house, I know they can drive you nuts! There are moments when you want to sell them to the circus--even if you know you'll lose money on the deal. But the moments are fleeting and most parents know that it is their job to raise these children to adulthood without breaking their spirit and with the end result being a fine upstanding member of society. The requirements are simple. The process is difficult. But you keep your eyes on the prize and do what is right. What is moral. What is required by God.

Well, recently, this friend was kicked out of her house. 16 years old. And the step has just decided that forr whatever reason he doesn't need to parent her or correct whatever he thinks she is doing wrong. He thinks that the right thing to do is just to kick her out. And the mom--the one who carried her in her womb for 9 months apparently thinks this is okay because she didn't stop it in any way.

I'll admit, I'm being really judgemental since I don't know all the details. But in the end, what story could you tell me that makes it okay to kick a 16 year old out of the house? Drugs? Drinking? Wouldn't a rehab fix the problem better? The family that took this girl in is also known to us. And appears to be a decent family. So I don't think the girl is beyond all hope.

I just don't get it! What are people thinking??????? I can't understand the selfishness of some people! If you can't handle--with Godly love--what it takes to raise a child and the special effort it must take to raise a step child. then keep your pants up, your skirt down, and don't get involved with people with kids!

I'm just so mad at people like this! Sometimes I want to elect myself the parent cop. I want to be able to walk around and smack people like this up side their head! I want to the one adminstering the reality check. Because these people need one! What is with people? Why do they think this is okay? In what world is it okay to say to a kid, "I give up on you?"

I wish I had a positive note to end on. I don't think there is one as long as people like this are in the world.

Read this.

I double dog dare you.  It's especially interesting because this is roughly our neck of the woods.

Shameless parently bragging

Please tolerate my parental bragging!

Melanie and a friend have started a band called The Diary. She wrote the lyrics to a song, he wrote the guitar part and together they worked out the melody.

Last night they recorded it and posted it to the groups myspace page. It's the first song--Puppettier. Give it a listen! I think it is great!!!!! Puppettier.