Cool (in good way)

This morning Jackson begged me for a check for $15, he said he HAD to have $15 for school. He was unable to provide me any sort of documentation as proof of this need, but as soon as he said it was for a yearbook, I wrote the check.

In my day, yearbook day was a highlight of the school year. I looked forward to counting my pictures, and having all my friends sign it. Yearbooks were a huge deal to me.

I've been getting on to him lately... actually, a lot lately... for not taking care of his stuff. He ruined his two day old Heelys, by walking through a muddy creek. He got a new Pro-Tec helmet, and left it in the parking lot. He's not respecting his stuff, or the fact that I shell out big bucks to aide his cool.

He bought the yearbook today, and when he brought it home tonight, this is what it looked like.

I believe my first words were something like, 'I paid $15 for this?'

He looked at me, and said 'YUP!' with a huge smile on his face. I couldn't be upset. This was his first time to get to desecrate a yearbook, I have to give him props for going for it.

According to him (after yet another discussion on respecting things) he had to scribble on the kids faces who scribbled on his face in their books.

Points of note:

- Jackson's teacher is the greatest teacher in the world, and he looks about 18.

- There is a girl in his class named Piper.

- Evidently Hunter loves Piper.

- This boy likes to give props to his friends.

- He thinks he rocks. (and I can't argue that)

Stats On Age 4

Current stats on Noah:

- Age 4.4

- Love cars more than anything, specifically cars from the movie Cars.

- Second to cars, he loves his Granny more than anything.

- Can't wait to see his Dad again!

- Can count to 30, and trace all the letters of the alphabet.

- Super excited about starting PreK in the fall.

- Likes to play with PlayDoh, but not pull it out of the carpet.

- Calls every girl his girlfriend, including his teachers.

- Likes to sing, and loves to dance.

- Sings himself to sleep every night, he's been singing Jingle Bells since Christmas.

- Refuses to flush the toilet.

- Is addicted to granola bars, Sunbelt Chocolate Chip to be exact.

- Desperately wants to be exactly like his big brother, but doesn't want to be as mean.

- Favorite TV shows; SpongeBob, Avatar, and Americas Funniest Home Videos (because I laugh really loud).

- Won't drink anything but milk, water, and Capri Sun.

- Likes to sit on my lap, and sneak into bed with me.

- At bedtime, he wants his bear, his lava lamp turned on, and won't go to sleep without prayers, three hugs, and one more kiss.

- Will get up and go to the bathroom 45 minutes after I finish bedtime, so he can get put to bed one more time.

Stats On Age 8

Current stats on Jackson:

- About to graduate 3rd Grade. He's 8.

- He will still be 8 when he starts 4th Grade. His birthday is right on the cut off date, making him the youngest 3rd Grader in his school.

- He is in the Top 5 of the best readers in 3rd Grade, reading at high school level.

- Has been crowned a 'Math-magician' by his teacher. He is in 8th Grade math.

- Practicing for his first skateboarding competition in June, currently trying to land his Pop Shove It.

- Can shoot, and sometimes make a free-throw, and even a three-pointer. (not often)

- Gearing up for summer camp, for the second time.

- Picks his nose, and may or may not eat it.

- Likes to watch the guy on Animal Planet who eats the guts out of rotting carcasses.

- Makes a mean PB&J.

- Likes girls, but won't admit it. He gets love notes, and I cringe.

- Stood up to a bully today, without using fists, he was calm and he owned that punk... made me really proud.

- Likes for me to lay in his bed with him, and listen to him tell me everything.

- Likes me to play with his hair, and tell him about when he was a baby.


Tonight, he called himself a 'bottle baby'... he was being silly. I told him that he was never a bottle baby. He looked at me funny, and I elaborated. I told him that he never once drank out of a bottle, because I fed him for 11 months, until he figured out the sippy cup and dumped me.

He was still confused. I told him the he was breastfed. He said 'so, you have little cows inside your body?' I laughed and told him that he drank 'mothers milk.' He looked at me, his face twisted, and he said, 'that's the grossest thing I've ever heard!'

Take Me to the River

"If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water,"

Loren Eisely

All I want to do is play in rivers. Or, big creeks. Also, lakes are great. But, mostly, it is a river that runs through me. I think about kayaking all day, everyday.

I learned to kayak in the Snake River, the part that winds through the Tetons. Not only did I kayak the Snake, I also rafted and tubed it often. I have paddled rivers in Wyoming, Idaho, and Colorado. I have even floated rivers in Oklahoma, and Texas too.

To see that written might lead you to believe that I've got mad skills, right? Well, I suppose I do know a bit about it, and I'm mildly experienced... but I've got crazier dreams.

See, I've been through Class IV rapids (Lunch Counter and Big Kahuna), but only with guides in rafts. Going solo in a kayak, through the really big ones, is something I have yet to do.

My bucket list kayaking goal is the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. I would love to do a guided float through the Grand Canyon too, but I can't die until I've kayaked it.

I haven't had any paddle time in more than a year though, so to say that I'm rusty is probably being generous. I have a long way to go, and a lot to learn, but mostly I just need to rake in some serious water time.

Anybody know how I can squeeze that in, effective immediately?

Take me to a river, and throw me in, I'll ride it to the ocean.

A Bad Case of the Mundanes

Some Stuff, and Stuff

Yesterday, about five minutes before quitting time, a tornado formed over my office. I was looking out the window at the lake, the wind was blowing about 100 mph across it. Then, in an instant, the wind turned around and blew the opposite direction, and I could see it change, it was kinda crazy.

Tornado's are par for the course in Oklahoma, I actually enjoy them... minus the possible devastation, of course.

After work, I stopped at the store. A guy I used to work with was there, we chatted, he walked me to my truck. He told me how fantastic I look, then he grabbed me and kissed me, and it was a pretty great kiss... except for the fact that he has a fiance. I shewed him away, and that was that.

What is for certain about me, at this point in life, is that even though my dating life is all but non-existent, I'm not interested in settling. I would like to get kisses everyday, but, I only want the real stuff. So, I'm waiting for the real... no matter what. No settling.

I say that, but then realize that I have also spent the better portion of a year seriously crushing a guy who's not into me. How pathetic is that?

I'm re-reading 'He's Just Not That Into You', and wondering why I didn't absorb it the first times I read it.

Also, my sons think that the McDonald's American Idol Happy Meal toys are the coolest thing ever right now, and the sound of them makes me flip out in a violent, intolerant rage. I'm going to round up every last noise making toy in my house, borrow a steam roller, and pulverize them.

Last week they didn't show The Office, because of weather coverage. If that happens again tonight, I'm not going to be a happy girl.

I got a new cell phone. And I love it.

Happy Thursday.

A Batty Bird

What most people don't know about me, is that inside of me is a feisty, eccentric, sometimes senile, often batty, little old lady.

I promise, it has to be.

My little exclamations throughout the day are things that you only hear little old ladies say.

(if you aren't from the South, you might not have heard them though)


'Great day in the morning!'

'Goodnight nurse!'

'Mercy Myrtle!'

(all better than blurting out obscenities, I've learned)


Then there are times, like this morning in our monthly staff meeting, when I do something that only a wacky person would do... and I am batty bird.

While the Vice President (who is also one of my friends from high school) was speaking during the meeting, he looked at me. He was so poised, and professional, and on top of his game... I had to see if I could crack him.

There he was, briefing all sixty, or so, of us on the new product that he's developing... and what did I do when he looked at me?

I stuck my tongue out at him!

He didn't even flinch. (he's good)

I wasn't even sure he'd noticed. At the end of the day though, I went in his office, and he said 'what am I going to do with you?'

I laughed and laughed, but wasn't satisfied.

See the thing is, I have to get him back somehow. Last week, I had to come home early from work one day, because I was really sick to my stomach. The next day, we were talking about it, and he told me what he likes to read while he is sitting on the pot. I told him that I play Tetris while I'm going to the bathroom, and that I have for years. Toilet Tetris, as I call it. (Momo and Jenny named it that for me, after this Meme) Later that day, he spilled the tetris beans to the other guys in the office! I was mortified!!

Your girl Piper can be a batty bird sometimes, but it's always justifiable.

Singlemotherhood

This week I was privileged to be a part of a panel of Mom's who were interviewed for the series 'What Mom's Really Think...' at Discovering Dad. It was a week long series that touched on marriage, physical appearance, sex, pet peeves, and what Mom's think a good Dad is.

The other Mom's on the panel were Kimmylyn, Huckdoll, Mr. Lady, and Lori aka Mrs. Discovering Dad. Each of us Mom's are unique, we come from different backgrounds, and have had different life experiences. These women are smart, witty, and really did an outstanding job.

I was the only single Mom in the mix though, and quickly realized that my perspectives might not be relatable to everyone else. I was really happy to be involved, and I tried to be as honest and forthright as possible. However, I teetered on the brink of mild meltdowns on and off throughout the week because I felt really vulnerable, and exposed at times. I know that it was hard for me because there is still a part of me that feels ashamed of being a single Mom.

When I read the answers of the other Mom's, compared to mine, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. Fortunately, I had a few friends this week who helped me gain some clarity on what it is that I actually do, and how much I have to be proud of.

As a single Mom, EVERYTHING is my responsibility. I'm responsible for it all, and don't have the luxury of anticipating, or expecting, help from anyone. I wake up in the morning to the starting gun, and it's nonstop. I have to get two boys together, along with myself, and get out the door on time. I have to drive all over town before I can even start my own long commute to work. I work hard all day, hoping that I don't get a call from school that one boy is sick, because if one is, then I have to leave work... I don't have a choice. It's my job that's on the line if my boys require their Mother during business hours. When I get home, I still don't get to rest. I have to cook, clean, do laundry, do homework, and try to squeeze nurturing in somehow. There is no soft place for me to fall at the end of the day. There is no other adult to bounce ideas off of, or to help me sort things out. I have to handle doctor appointments, and illnesses alone. I have to handle school issues and daycare issues, alone. I have to take care of bills, alone. These things are hard, and often stressful, but I have to do it, alone, day after day. I rarely get breaks, or time to myself.

Everything is a fine balance, and I don't always do a good job at it. My house is rarely ever really clean. Laundry rotates in and out of the chair in the living room. I'm late to pay bills sometimes. I forget to change the oil in my truck. I forget to buy milk. I forget to remember almost everything that's happening at my sons schools. I don't get to be in PTA, or be a homeroom Mom. I don't do fundraisers. I don't do play dates, I let noisy little boys fill my house so I can get a break from being entertaining.

I've learned that there is no point in complaining. Complaining doesn't change anything, it only makes things worse. I've learned that the only way I am going to be happy is to focus on the good things more than the hard things. I have to choose to see the bright side of everything in order to remain optimistic. I have to choose to be grateful in order to not be hardened by the hardships. I have to be fiercely independent, yet still keep space in my life for a man.

This Mothers Day won't bring me any gifts, or cards, or brunch at my favorite restaurant. My boys will still need me to take care of them, and might not remember to hug me or say 'thank you' for anything. In fact, they will most likely ask to be with their Dad at least five times that day... like every other day.

I'm trying hard to raise responsible men. I pray I will do a good job, and that they won't resent me for my numerous short comings. I hope that my best is good enough. I hope they will know that they are my world, and that my life didn't start and had no meaning before I became their Mother. I hope that they will see that everything I did was for them.

Of course they won't appreciate me until they become Dad's themselves. First, I'll have to deal with hard headed preteens, and rebellious teenagers, and try to maintain some sort of sanity.

If the flock of white hairs rapidly accumulating on my head is any indication, then I will be the white haired, forty-year-old Mom chaperoning the prom. And that's okay. I'll see my strikingly gorgeous sons in their tuxedos, and hopefully my white hair will be a crown of distinction, for a job well done.

Come On And Dance

On any given day, if you asked me what my favorite thing to do is, do you know what I would say?

Well, I would probably ramble off at least three or five things, but one of them would definitely be listening to live music. The only thing that makes listening to live music better, is listening to it outside. At a music festival, or amphitheater, with the fresh air, and the stars... it really doesn't get much better than that.

Call me a redneck, call me a hippie, call me a dork... but I'm all about the Steve Miller Band! Every year they come to the OKC Zoo Amphitheater, and this year since I'm living here, I'm going. Of all the live music I've heard, and in all the venues, it's probably one of my favorites, and it's going to be a great show. Joe Cocker is playing too.

I wish I'd seen this show in '95

I'm putting my big girl pants on, and going by myself. Every person I know is married, everyone is in a relationship, but me. There is no one for me to go with, and I'm okay with that.

I don't need a date to shake my tail feathers. It's going to be so much fun, I cannot wait!

However, if you know any cute single guys, who like to drink cold beer and listen to live music and dance... will you please give them my number? Thanks.

The Nuts Story

I’m the chick who always puts her foot in her mouth. Sometimes I open my mouth, and the wrong words just come flying out. It’s a tricky gig being me, my brain and mouth just don’t operate on the same frequency sometimes. Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with a wicked sense of humor, and the ability to laugh louder at myself than all the people around me. But, needless to say, it can be very embarrassing.

Case in point:

Years ago, when I was just starting out in the insurance world, I was hired to work for Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown was a very proper, very conservative, very southern gentleman. He was, if nothing else, steadfast in his convictions. He never swore, he never told a dirty joke, he never said anything even remotely inappropriate. I made concentrated efforts to be as ladylike as possible. Which isn’t always easy for me to do, much to my own chagrin.

One morning Mr. Brown asked me to call an insured and break the bad news about his denied claim. Said insured was known to be the meanest, most hateful, insured ever to walk the planet. I knew that it would be a hard call to make, dreaded it, and put it off… while I worked up the courage. I got busy doing other things while working up the courage though, and kinda forgot about it.

After lunch, Mr. Brown came to me and asked how the call went. I’m not a good liar, and making excuses is a stupid thing to do, so I decided to just be honest.

I wanted to say that I didn’t have the ‘nerve’ to call because I was scared, but in the same split second that I started talking, decided I wanted to say that I didn’t have the ‘guts’. The first part of ‘nerve’ got mixed with the last part of ‘guts’… and ‘I don’t have the nuts!’ is what came out of my mouth.

Mr. Brown stood there, like a tree, he was in both shock and awe. I was instantaniously mortified. I tried not to laugh. I tried to explain. Mr. Brown called me into his office and told me not use that kind of language. He asked me to get him some coffee, and said he would make the call. I sat there trying not to laugh as the insured screamed every vulgar word in the book at Mr. Brown. When he got off the phone, he was spent, and said it was good that I didn’t call, because a lady didn’t need to hear that kind of language.

Good thing I didn’t hear those filthy words. My virgin ears couldn’t take it.

Blooming Again

I have to talk about how good life is these days. I can't bottle it up, and don't want to.

If you've known me a while, you know that the last year of my life has been kinda crummy. I've been happy, but not really happy. I have been a bit bitter about having to move away from the place I love so much. I have been a teensy bit bruised from my last relationship(s). I've lost a job that I adored. I've had to learn to just be me, and to just be with me, and to be really okay with that. I've had to crawl from the bottom, for the second time, and start over... in the middle of a place that I hated having to be. If that sounds heavy, you can't even imagine.

But, lately, everything has been a lot better. I mean really, really better. I am so happy on the inside, I'm bubbling over with bliss. It's not just springtime in the air, it feels like springtime on the inside of me again. It's like the bleak winter is over, and all the seeds of hope, and faith, and love that I have been planting are finally beginning to bloom. I'm happier than I have been in years, and it's the most amazing feeling.

My job is fantastic! Even though I'm in a totally new field, I'm doing a pretty good job. I absolutely adore my bosses, and my associates. They are so patient with me, and kind, and funny. They are also the smartest people I have ever met in my life. I'm amazed every single day, it's humbling that I was hired to work with them. That they think I can do this, that makes me remember how smart I am, and that feels really good.

I have remembered how much I love being a Mother. I think I forgot somewhere along the way, in the middle of things being really hard. When I was barely keeping us afloat. I was so focused on keeping us from sinking that I forgot to enjoy them. I remember now.

I've been spending time with my friends. I have the best friends in the world, by the way. (this means YOU)

Really, honestly, truly, for the first time in years, I feel peace. Peace is an amazing feeling.

God is awesome! And that's what's up.

Our Trip to the Museum's Gore Fest

We went to see the Our Body: The Universe Within exhibit at the science museum. I would like to tell you that it was indeed fascinating, yet also the most grotesque experience of my life.

If you haven't seen it, you should, but heed my caution, it might freak you out. I don't know if it was the body that had been sliced into two inch strips, stretched out in a 15ft box that did it... or maybe it was seeing the fetal specimens... or maybe it was the body that was holding it's own skin on a coat hanger that did it, but let's just say I had some nightmares.

Jackson was mesmerized, he got an anatomy lesson, that's for sure. Especially when we came across the female and male sexual organ display... there was a torso of a woman, and lets just say that half of it was complete with hair and all, and the other half was no skin and just organs and veins. Poor guy, I'm not sure he's ever seen a va-jay-jay before, I hope he's not scarred for life. Noah didn't know exactly what to think, and I didn't let him see most of it.

Fortunately, the rest of the museum was a great experience, and I took some pictures.

This is the Shadow Box, you stand against this wall, a bright light flashes, and leaves your shadow on the wall. My camera flash didn't even mess it up.

A great day at the museum. The Gore Fest, as I call it, was really incredible. Anyone with a weak constitution should be warned though, you might go into gag reflex.

Happy

"When you stand in that sliver of space that is completely and utterly you, then will you be truly awesome, wonderful, magnificent." - Joseph Riggio

Don't Mess With Texas Bluebonnets

Jackson, age 4, in the bluebonnets.

I lived in Waco, Texas once... I really have lived almost everywhere.

This is the time of year when bluebonnets start popping up all over the place, and it's beautiful.

From what I understand, the state actually scatters the seeds, so you see them next to almost every road, and especially along the highways. If you've ever seen them, in all their glory, then you know that it's unforgettable.

Every decent, raised right, upstanding Texas citizen who's worth their salt, takes pictures of their kids in the bluebonnets.

And, it doesn't really matter where they find the prettiest patch, they will risk life and limb for these annual photo ops. I remember seeing families, dressed in Sunday best, sitting in highway medians, posing for their professional photographer.

Those Texans are hardcore bluebonnet zealots, don't mess with 'em.

Have you ever seen the bluebonnets?

A Good Sunday

I went to visit my grandpa this afternoon at the nursing home. He's pretty sound mentally, he just can't get around like he used to. I am trying to get into the habit of visiting him there now, but I haven't been good about it because it scares me seeing him there. I hate that he is there. He knows it too. He knows me better than anyone.

I walked into his room, and sat down in a chair. He sat up in his bed, and muted Gunsmoke.

He said 'that's some purse you've got there,' matter-0f-factly.

That took me off guard, and I laughed. I'm pretty sure he has never commented on one of my (fabulous) handbags before.

It was a nice little ice breaker, even though it's awful that there needed to be one. I came to cry on his shoulder, and he knew it before I even started talking.

He told me about how, at one of the churches he pastored, on Mother's Day they would have all the mother's come up... and they would weigh their purses. Which ever woman was carrying the heaviest purse would get a prize of some kind. A cute idea I think, better than making the oldest mom stand up. Once at a church I was going to, I got a carnation for being the youngest mom... that was sweet.

I told him that I do, indeed, have way too much stuff in my purse... and he said it was luggage. I said that it was pretty luggage, and he laughed and asked to feel how heavy it was. I handed it to him, he held it with his weathered hand, said 'ooooh-weeee', and pretended that it was dragging him to the floor. I laughed some more.

I wondered what the prize was for carrying the heaviest purse, but I forgot to ask.

I started thinking about all the stuff in my purse. I immediately thought of the things in there that I probably wouldn't want him to see... because every girl carries secrets in her bag.

After we talked for a while, he said that he can tell that I am carrying too much. Not just in my purse. He said he understands the weight of my life, and the weight of everything that has happened to me, has caused me to be weary. I cried. I cried big fat tears. I walked over and sat next to him, he put his arm around me, and I cried loud, little girl like sobs. I cried because he understood.

He told me that I needed to stop carrying it, and give it to God, because He would carry for me. I have known that I could do that my whole life, but I forget so often. I tried to remember the last time I had a heart-to-heart with God, and gave it all to Him. It's been longer than I care to admit.

Papa prayed for me, and I cried more. I asked God to forgive me for some things, and I asked Him to take some stuff away from me, and I cried. Papa spoke blessings and grace and favor over me, and I cried some more. He sang to me, and I cried more.

When all was said and done, he told me to look in the mirror. I looked at him oddly I guess, and he said that color and life was returning back to my complexion. He told me that the cares of life get stored on our faces, and our faces tell the tales our mouths keep secret. Much like my pretty luggage, obviously crammed full of too much stuff that I lug around dutifully.

I looked in the mirror, and could see what he meant. I had surrendered it all to God, and my face was brighter. The weight had been lifted, and I could see it. My tears had washed my face clean, and there was peace in my complexion again.

Wearing his shoes, 1980

Full Circle

I'm stumbling over this, and I haven't even started trying to write what I want to say. Sometimes I don't know where to begin. This photo of my boys was taken in April 2004. Noah was just three months old, and Jackson was four.

This was the first portrait made of them together. I remember going to Sears, hoping that it would go well... that Noah wouldn't cry, and that Jackson would smile nicely... I was really surprised because this was the first time Noah had smiled on camera too. I was proud of Jackson for holding Noah so well. As far as portrait experiences go, it couldn't have turned out better.

Little did I know that sweet Spring day, that just three weeks later, their Dad would leave us.

Three weeks after this picture was taken I became a single Mom. Life changed in the matter of a moment.

Of course, I look at these precious babies and still can't understand how a Father could walk away from something so perfect and lovely. I will never understand that.

This year, this next month, is feeling like a milestone... and I don't exactly know why. It's probably a culmination of several things.

The age that Jackson is in this picture is the age that Noah is now. Noah has only known life with me, and sporadic visits with his Dad, who is much more like a novelty than a Father. Jackson's life has been divided into two equal parts... the first being in a home with Mommy and Daddy, and the second being with just Mommy, and missing Daddy.

Me, I'm four years into singlemotherhood. I never planned it to be this way. I don't feel like crying though, I feel like rejoicing. We have made it. I have survived. My boys have survived. We have moved out of a life that is only about surviving, into a life that is being lived... and that is remarkable.

I hardly ever think about what my life was then. I hardly ever think about how hard it was anymore. I hardly remember that I was married for six years. Each step into the future is one step away from that... and I embrace the future now like never before.

I'm not grieving, but I am stricken with some sort of awareness right now. It's like I need to be paying attention to something, but I don't know what it is. I know that it's about time, and change, and growth, and healing... but that's not all of it.

Something about the number '4' is pressing into my consciousness too, and I don't know why.

What I am sure of, however, is that I'm supposed to be 'dealing' with this right now. I know that dealing with it is really more about preparing me, and that's a good thing. Sometime soon, I know that I am supposed to write about my divorce, how it happened, and why... I've never written about it. But, just like all the other posts I've labored over that I felt I couldn't do, shouldn't do, and didn't want to do... I know that it's going to bring a sense of completion and resolve. I'm going to do it, I don't know who really wants to read it... and it won't be pretty, or entertaining, but I need to do it, for me.

I also need to get my boys to the portrait studio again, as this is the only 'professional' picture of them together that I've ever had made. Shame on me. I'm doing that next week.

What to write, what to write?

Well, I haven't posted anything since Monday... and so much has happened.

So much to say.

So, so much.

But, only a few things could possible mean more to me tonight than this fact;

Tonight is a BRAND NEW episode of The Office!!

Seriously, I've been waiting for this day.... FOREVER!!!

I'm giddy. I'm beside myself. I'm over the moon!

I will tell you about all of my camera adventures next time. Thanks for your condolences... it's all good now, it's fixed... but, what an ordeal. Phew!

Now... I'm off to catch up with some of my associates.

The Shot That Broke My New Camera

In a tragic turn of events, somehow this precious shot of the 'pee pee dance' managed to break my new camera.

I have no idea what happened... it just froze up, and then it was dead. It's still frozen, and dead. I charged the battery all night, so I know it's not that. I took the battery out, blew on it, put it back... nada. The lens is out, and it's supposed to be in.

I'm so bummed out! I didn't keep my receipt. I don't know what to do. And, I could cry.

It Isn't What it is

"It is what it is" - This coin phrase gets passed around for everything these days, and I'm over it.

To me, saying 'it is what it is' is just a cop out. It's an excuse. To me, it isn't what it is, it's what you make it.

Don't I have a hand in anything, or am I just floating along... drifting with the current. Can a coin phrase buy me out of taking responsibility? Even if it could, I guess I am not the type of person who would cash in on it.

What does 'it is what it is' mean anyway? Maybe I'm missing the point. But, whenever I hear it, it's like listening to finger nails scratch a chalk board.

I want to shake the person who says it and say 'It's what you make it!!'

That's empowering! Take control, make it what you want it to be. That's what I subscribe to. 'If it is to be, it is up to me'... that's a good one too.

Horoscope Accuracy

My horoscope today:

'Something weird will catch your eye today. You will find yourself attracted
to this weird thing like a magnet is attracted to a refrigerator door. They say
beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in this case it definitely is. Not
everyone is going to understand what you find so fascinating. Don't bother
trying to explain anything -- sometimes it's pointless to try to make someone
understand why you like what you like. It's a personal thing, and they'll just
have to respect that.'

If you are like me, you read your horoscope everyday. Often times it seems highly inapplicable, and other times I just know that it's spot on.

Today was a day when I took it to heart. Because, frankly, the majority of the things that I find myself attracted to could be considered, by some, to be 'weird'.

All day long I would think of something, or see something, and think 'is this the weird thing'? Is this the weird thing that I'm attracted to like a magnet?

The only thing out of the ordinary that I was attracted to today, however, was a bubble gum pink Sharpie that I found on Jason's desk. I grabbed it and said 'you are giving this to me, right?' He gave it to me. And I doodled all day long with it.

But, I couldn't allow myself to fully enjoy it, because in the back of my mind I kept thinking;

'Is this the weird thing?'

'Surely this isn't THE weird thing?!'

I didn't want my weird thing to be so mundane. When the cosmos gives such a tasty and tempting alert, you'd think it would be something of greater import. But, as it turns out... I couldn't stop thinking about how much I loved the pink Sharpie.

Sans my one fleeting thought that was leading me to paint my pinky fingernail with White-Out; indeed it does seem that my horoscope today could be translated to:

'You will be transfixed on a pink Sharpie all day.'

Thanks for the heads up stars!