More than my luggage

I spent the day yesterday with my dear old friend, J.  As always, he seems to arrive just as I need him.  He’s been doing that for 11 years.  Our friendship is the real deal and I’m so enriched by it.  B has even gone so far as to personally thank J for being such a good friend to me.  I cherish him so much.

 

I taught him how to knit yesterday.  Pretty funny, actually, teaching 6 foot 3 inch 278 pound gay guy to knit.  As all new knitters, he was all myopic about it – too tight, too tiny, too tense.  But it was really funny to watch this enormous guy working with little bitty white schwag yarn on knitting needles.  He did great, though.  Just great!  I was so pleased.

 

We spoke at length about the internal work I’m doing and the draw I feel to the Buddhist way of life.  He held me and listened and laughed and loved me and told me how proud he was of me. 

 

We watched Fraggle Rock with the boys, drank coffee, and wondered how in the world time flies so quickly?  My children and his are growing so fast.  We are aging just as fast as they are.  He had just turned 18 when I met him – now he has the most amazing salt and pepper hair and wrinkles around his eyes.  I’m bigger in some areas, smaller in others, and most certainly saggier in almost all places than I was when we first met.  Our love for each other has deepened with each passing year, line, wrinkle, stretch mark, sag, tattoo, piercing, zip code.

 

(Prince Albert is still in the can, although he did pierce both his nipples yesterday and I actually wet my pants in laughter as he told me how he screamed like a little girl and shouted, "Oh sweet Jesus" and then said, "yeah, go ahead and do the other one, too!")

 

There are 3 people (adults) who draw breath in this world that I trust completely.  3 people and 3 people only (adults) who I know will love me no matter what because I know I’ll love them no matter what, too – and I love them as I love myself, my children, my soul.  They will listen without judgment, praise my success, sympathise with the failures, and laugh hysterically when I trip over myself.  They are constant to me.  JFL is one of those 3 people.

 

I love you, JFL.  More than my luggage.

The Buddha Within

I found this piece of artwork this morning while hunting around for some Buddhist centers in my area. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It speaks to me. It’s called The Buddha Within and the artist is Aesha Kennedy.

I’m working through some really hard things these days. The stuff that many folks burry down deep inside. I’m digging my way down to my roots, nearly 30 years worth of muck. It’s hard, but not as hard as living without dealing. I’ve done that long enough to know that I suck at it.

For the first time in years, I’m contemplating taking up a faith, a religion. Buddhism, however, is more of a way of life. It calls to me, it speaks to me, and what it says to me resonates deep in my soul. It’s what I want for myself. I’m hoping to find my own Buddha within. 

Blatherings

So, I have this new wireless optical mouse.  Occasionally it will trigger some sort of telekinetic experience as things will get clicked (most often, right clicked) without my fingers touching the crazy thing.  I’m hunting around for a mouse exorcist – any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.  Especially if it’s from you computery folks.  ESPD, got any favorites?  Maybe someone with a white button?

 

I spoke on the phone to one of my dearest friends yesterday.  He’ll be coming for a visit on Monday.  I’ve known this guy for 12 years.  We’ve shared everything.  We’ve shared secrets and drink mixes and even an apartment for awhile. I’ve gone with him when he’s gotten a piercing, was consulted by him when he was deciding on some of his tattoos (he has LOTS.)  He told me yesterday that in a couple of weeks, he’s getting a Prince Albert.  For those of you asking yourself, "A Prince Albert?  Isn’t that when …." yes, yes it is.  It’s exactly that.  For those of you not familiar with a Prince Albert,  here you go (NOT kid friendly.)  I will not be sharing this experience with him.  I think I’ll leave that to which ever guy he’s dating these days.  But I’m sure it will result in some hysterical stories which I will, of course, share here.

 

B just left to run errands.  His parting words were, "There’s not a single corner of this house that it’s engulfed in wool fuzz."  Yep, he’s right.  But you know, he appreciates the money and we both agree it’s worth the fuzz.  Seriously, this is coming from a guy who had hair down to his ass for 11 years and who married a dreadlocked hairy legged chick with hairy pits.  Fuzz we’re familiar with.

 

I found some awesome wild salmon at the grocery store yesterday.  Love that.

 

Burt’s Bees is amazing. EVERYTHING is amazing.  If you haven’t joined the hive, do it now. Your body will thank you.

 

Anniversary coming up.  SO excited.  I cannot believe how excited.  What am I, like 4??

 

I need sushi. DDFF, you up for it, baby?  Next week?  I’m thinking obscene amounts. 

 

 

OUCH!!!!

Just got back from the local natural food store.  Got myself some good ol’ Dr. Burt’s Res-Q Ointment to rub on my forehead.  It’s sore and bruised from being banged into the wall in response to some folks’ unbelievably mind-numbing stupidity.

The face of love

There is a person in my life who struggles with love.  It’s been a long standing issue with her – nearly 40 years now.  Due to less than ideal parentage (yes, they did the best they could – we all do, but that was still lacking in some serious areas,) as well as some unfortunate situations and poor choices, this person is constantly looking for acceptance, validation, love (I don’t feel as though I’m speaking out of turn – these are words she, herself, has used.)  She has wondered, aloud in her blog, if she is really in love with Mr. Z (and oh so very recently, Mr. D, and a bat of an eye before that a different Mr. D) or if she is just in love with the idea of being in love.  It’s absolutely not my place to have an opinion – this is something she’s going to have to figure out for herself.  And I wish her the best of luck in finding the answers.  It’s gotta be a tough question to ponder.

 

I bring it all up because it’s gotten me thinking a lot about what love really is?  What is HEALTHY love?  How can someone recognize it when they’ve never seen it before?  It’s got to be incredibly deceptive.  When I was in my teens and early 20’s, I had no freaking idea of what true, healthy love was.  I made a really big decision that resulted in my saying the two big words ("I Do") based on a very faulty idea of love.  This was NOT the I Do that married me and B – it married me (a former me,) to a different guy.  This was a marriage based on desperation and control.  I was desperate to prove to myself that I could keep him (even though I didn’t want him,) I wanted to control the fact that he’d not be with anyone else.  He was desperate to hang onto me (who knows why, we treated each other like shit.)  Mostly, we married each other because we either needed to get married or to break up and never see each other again – and we didn’t know how to get out of the addictive, controlling, manipulative cycle we’d been in for 7 years and never see each other again. So, we got married.

 

I thought I loved him.  And, I’m sure he did love me the best he knew how, but sweet jesus, he didn’t know how.  I thought I loved him.  I thought I cared enough about him to stay with him forever.  I didn’t.  I didn’t love him at all.  Oh yes, I did once upon a time – when I was just a teenager.  Well, I loved him with a teenage love.  I loved him for what it would give me. I loved him for making me part of a couple, keeping me from being alone, I loved him for providing my booze and my weed and concert tickets.  I loved him because it meant that I could keep him from loving anyone else.  <<shuddering at the truth.>>

 

Within 15 months of our marriage, I had moved out.  That was the single most loving thing I ever did for him – leaving.  I divorced him a short few months after that.  He was stunned and upset and vowed that he’d never have left me.

 

We both remarried and we (at least I) chalked that first marriage up to practice, an experiment.  I learned from it and moved on and remarried.  He also remarried, but I don’t feel he learned anything from it – his second marriage just ended and he’s not yet 31 years old.  I guess he’s still trying to recognize the face of love.  Somehow, I saw it and recognized it -but I don’t know how.  Maybe I just saw that what I had found was honestly not like anything I had ever known.  Maybe my heart knew that what I was feeling wasn’t going to pass, that it wasn’t contingent upon anything, that even though it was going to be hard and I’d lose a lot, I’d gain more than I ever knew. 

 

I sit here now in a home that I own, surrounded by toys and games and clutter of a house that is lived in, not just scoured clean.  I kissed my husband good-bye this morning and, after 7 years of being together, I still count the minutes until he returns home.  We have 2 children together.  We have a future together.  We have the strength of the knowledge that we can handle each other’s truths and fears and doubts and mistakes and successes.  We have arguments and disagreements.  We have laughter and joy and pain and confusion.  We have faith.  I know that he is always free to walk out -and I know that I am also free to do the same.  If he wanted out, the last thing I would want him to do is stay -and I know he feels the same about me.  It is a choice we make every day – we choose to love each other.  And it’s a choice and an investment that is paying off in spades.

 

I want this for my love seeker. I want for her to know true and honest love, deep compassionate love that comes when the passion of newness ebbs. But I cannot tell her what it looks like.  I cannot tell her when she’s on the right path or when she’s on the wrong path.  Only she can figure that out because if I tell her, she hasn’t learned how to recognize it for herself. 

 

It’s hard. It takes a lot of faith.  Maybe this is part of the way that I love her.

Ozark Handspun to Decorate Big Ben

Okay, well, maybe that’s looking a little too far into the future – but it’s on the way, I can tell.  Yesterday at the trade show, Dave, Terri, and Velma took on 27 (28?) new shops that will be carrying Ozark Handspun.  One of them is in LONDON!!  So, yep, intercontinental.  Not bad, eh?

 

Take a look at the booth!!
 

And Velma, your pride in me makes me swoon with warmth – I’m just so thrilled to be a part of it.  Thanks for including me!

Must remember

that kids fighting is normal and that I should stay out of it.  Unless there are things being broken or names being called or fists being thrown, I should just stay out of it and say, "Wow, how nice it is that my children are teaching themselves how to negotiate and problem solve!"

 

Ugh. By far the worst part of parenting.

 

Praise for the man

Before you all call 9-1-1 for your own apparent heart attack, let me rephrase. "Praise for MY man."  Pshaw – yeah, like I’d ever praise "THE Man."  Did you forget who’s blog you’re reading?

 

Anyway, our anniversary is coming up.  In less than a month and I’m so excited.  We’ve never really done anything, never really gone anywhere.  We have small children and I have a career that often means leaving at the drop of a hat to see those darned unpredictable babies come into the world, so leaving and going anywhere isn’t really something we feel comfortable doing.

 

Until this year.  This year, we’re going somewhere alone and my man, my delightful man, planned it himself.

 

I’ll not say where we’re going (give a girl some privacy, eh) but we’ll be staying in a delightful B&B with white pine plank floors, a room with a king sized feather bed, fireplace, and a private Jacuzzi tub for 2.  The area is wooded and loaded with perfect isolated trails for hiking, there is a state park close by, several points of interest. 

 

I just love it when the ball and chain is platinum and jewel encrusted.

 

 

Bustin’ out all over Part One

VJ, Dave, and Terri are driving down the California coast as I type this on their way to San Diego for the National Needle Arts Trade Show.  This show is HUGE.  Beyond huge, probably, but let’s not get too carried away, eh?  It’s possible that Ozark Handspun will walk away from the show with many many many new clients (?) who will sell the yarn in their shops.  This is big business.  This is also the site for the Fashion show that I mentioned a few months ago where a hat and a purse that I designed and created will take the stage with a vest from Dave and a scarf from VJ to complete the ensemble.  All things considered, this is a very important trip.

 

So I called VJ this morning to wish her luck and safe travels and such and to tell her about the revelations I’ve been having about myself (watch for Bustin’ out all over Part Two in the coming days,) and she had some news for me, herself!  She spent quite some time at the SF post office yesterday to mail a package to Deb Stoller.  Now I’ve written about Deb Stoller, author of Stitch & Bitch and Stitch & Bitch Nation.  Deb Stoller also happens to run a not-so-little magazine that I love love love called Bust Magazine: For women with something to get off their chest.   All of my girlie friends reading this, you know Bust Magazine, eh?  Certainly you’ve at least gotten a Bust e-card from me.  Anyway, it’s a pretty big magazine. 

 

The package that VJ mailed had a skein of Ozark Handspun in it.  It will be featured in an upcoming article in Bust about hand spinning.

 

Seriously, folks.  Seriously.  I think I peed a little in excitement.

 

Buddha, I’m stuck!!!

So, I’m reading If the Buddha Got Stuck by Charlotte Kasl . I am stuck. I’m just plain ol’ stuck and it happens. No biggie. Just need to get unstuck. This book is amazing, delightful. Since I don’t so much have it in me to write my own review of it at 8 in the morning (the boys actually slept in until 7:30 – can I get an AMEN???) I’m just going to post what another reviewer wrote.

Kasl blends Buddhism with mind-body approaches to focus energy and move beyond
the overthinking mind to a connection with our emotional body. Whether or not
you are familiar with Buddhism this lively book on the art of flowing with life,
despite the waves of ups and down, are filled with simple techniques to stay
clear of chatter and familiar emotional responses. The practices proposed by
Kasl are designed to calm the mind, sooth the emotional, and release the tension
in the physical body. This is ultimatley a guide to connecting with your spirit
and wisdom of soul. A wonderul handbook when the chronic patterns of the past
pollute the present and corrupt the future. Simple brilliance … just like the
Buddha.

Yeah. It’s that good.

There’s another book that might interest some of the folks who stop by here to read my blatherings (YES, I’m talking about YOU.)

It’s called If the Buddha Dated.