You See Your Gypsy

This morning when I woke up, I unzipped my tent and walked down to the river to take a dip. I shed my layers... my fleece, and my thermals, my birks and my wool socks... and dove head long into the glacial current. Yes, it's freezing cold, but the invigoration is what I came for.

I couldn't stay in as long as I wanted, hypothermia would be a buzz kill. My skin was red from the shock, and I shivered as I got dressed. I needed to chop some more firewood, and that helped warm me back up.

I've always found the task of stoking a fire to be the ultimate relaxation. I got a good fire back, dumped some grounds in my percolator, and enjoyed the aroma of the coffee more than the taste.

Being here, on the side of this mountain... this is where my spirit feels most alive. There is nothing that I have to do, nothing more urgent than collecting wood for tonights fire, and filtering drinking water for the day.

I hiked about two miles, along the ridgeline with my camera, to see what I could see. I found a hidden spring bubbling up. The tiny blue flowers that encircled the pool reminded me of Granny. I wish she could see this. Somehow she is. I know that I am appreciating them because she would have. I sat down to spend time with her there. I laughed remembering how my Mom used to pretend she was a tiny little water sprite, a fairy, dancing on top of water like this, liting on blades of grass. Me, I'm a fairy too.

I sat there for such a long time, hours passed before I even noticed. This is the time of year for afternoon thunderstorms. I can't help but be entranced by the clouds moving above my head. The weather always comes from the west. Darker and darker, the sky motivates me to get back to camp.

It was sprinkling by the time I got there, and the thunder was so loud... it shook me in my shoes. An act of nature? I think not... God knows that I love a good thunderstorm. I'm ready.

I waited out the rain in my tent, with a copy of The Road. Is heaven any better than the sound of rain pattering on canvas, while I'm curled up in my sleep sack with an amazing book? I don't think so. I've had a hard time making it through McCarthy's tale, it's darker and more penetrable than anything I've ever read. It's painful to read, but I can't stop. The hopelessness is so raw, and the love is so real, it begs me to keep going. I fumble through the almost biblical vocabulary, rereading passages three times just to make sure I got it. When I realized that the rain had stopped, I was relieved to have permission to put the book down.

I spent the rest of the day throwing my flies, like clock work, into the river... I'm not the best angler, but I caught two fish. One keeper, and one throw back. The ritual of preparing dinner is something of Shakespearean romance. I cleaned the Cutty, and sizzled it to golden perfection. It was so good!

Sunset was a mango orange, with bright pink streaks, and everything was cast in a golden haze at dusk. I grabbed another PBR, my headlamp, and took off to spot some animals. Last night there was a huge bull moose drinking at the river, and during the night the elk were bugling. I didn't see anything other that a big fat porcupine, but his lazy wobble made me laugh.

It's so dark that I can see every single star in the sky. No matter what anyone says, wishing upon stars has is rewards. I counted more than ten shooters, until the clouds covered the moon, and I turned my eyes back to the glowing ashes in the fire.

The flames, blue and orange, licked the chilly night air... and I yawned big and purposeful. The trance of watching a camp fire, the art of poking at it with my stick, and watching as sparks spit into the black sky... this is what it's all about.

My yawns finally overtook me as the fire got dim. I crawled back into my bag, and drifted into peaceful sleep within seconds.

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

It's almost ten hours since my last post... Rage.

In that short amount of time no less than 30 people have contacted me to offer encouragement, advice, and love. I am once again blown away at the magnitude of these sentiments. I'm so grateful. I almost don't know what to say, and 'thank you' doesn't seem to be enough.

If there was ever any question in my mind as to why I continue to blog my heart out... the validation of this experience today has confirmed that this blog is chicken soup for my soul. I'm blessed beyond measure to have such an amazing community in the blogosphere... good people, whom I know to be amazing friends.

Update on me and my boys:

I persistently called the Doctors office, four times, until I was able to speak with a nurse. (thanks Erin!) She got us an appointment at 7:30 in the morning. Noah's eyes are puffy, less oozy, and he's been less miserable... which means less whining. Jackson's cough is still happening, but I know that he'll be okay.

I'm exhausted. I could fall over asleep right now, and sleep until Saturday. I had a business call today, and I was sub par, but such is life. It is what it is.

You good people are sunshine on cloudy days. Thank you for reaching out to me!

Rage

I'm ready to break stuff. I'm throwing all of my cool away... it's super early in the morning and I've been up all night with sick kids.

How is it that two boys can wake up perfectly healthy yesterday, and then come home from school with two different illnesses?

Jackson has a horrible, gagging cough. He's wheezing, and choking, the sheer volume of his spastic coughs are so LOUD that I couldn't sleep a wink... neither could he.

Noah's eyes are bright pink, swollen, and gooey. He shrieks and squeals the most annoying high pitch tones at steady 30 second intervals. Bless his heart, I know he's going crazy from the torture of pink eye, he is miserable... but I can't think straight with the constant screeching. How do you tell a four year old to stop shrieking?

I called the Doctors office this morning, the only one my boys are allowed to got to. They are on the state's health insurance, so it's free for them, and I shouldn't complain, but the first appointment they have is for February 7th. YES! February 7th. I'm fuming because this is the same story every single time my kids are sick. Last time Jackson had a fever of 103 for three days, and they still couldn't get him in. We don't have an option to see another Doctor... and they nonchalantly say 'if you need to see a Doctor immediately, you'll need to go to the ER.'

Now, I have to make a decision. Do I go sit with my annoyingly sick boys in the ER waiting room all day? Is a cough and pink eye considered an emergency? No, not when people are having heart attacks, and near fatal car crashes. How much priority is a four year old with pink eye going to get? Or, an 8 year old who doesn't have a fever, but has a cough from hell?

How am I supposed to be fresh for a job interview, or to even start a new job if I have to spend the rest of the week combating this?

Did I mention that I currently have NO INCOME?!

I am at my maximum capacity for stress right now, and the day has only just begun.

God help me!!!

Enough Said

My Own Inconvenient Truth

I have lots of balls to keep in the air, and I think I do a great job! But, I have a dirty little secret... an inconvenient disorder known as 'unorganized.'
'Unorganized' wreaks havoc on my sanity sometimes. I'm a highly functional unorganized though, I work around it, and it surprises even me, the rate at which I can accomplish things within my rampant unorganized chaos.

Do you remember that episode of Friends, the one where Monica's dirty little secret is exposed? Not that she was dating Chandler... the one where the hall closet gets opened, and you see that it's crammed full of junk? The door opens, and stuff falls out, she's mortified that her glossy image has been tainted. That's me, minus having a glossy image to uphold.

Except my mess isn't in a closet (okay it is, but that's not the highlight right now), my mess is hiding in the photo and music files on my computer.

I have recently realized that my computer file organization skills are lacking. For some reason, I choose to colorfully word my photo folders with titles like;

~ 'Pink lips and iPod'

~ 'Fetch and Game Cube'

~ 'Dinner conversation'

~ 'Fridge helmet boy'

~ 'gito bites and duck dodgers'

I could go on until your head is spinning. You think I'm kidding, but I assure you, 'Pink lips and iPod' is happening right now. Not only do these not make any sense to me anymore, these folders, yes entire folders, contain only one or two pictures. So now, I have hundreds of folders and I don't know what's in them unless I slowly look through each one. I didn't know that I should make files for the folders, and even perhaps do something like DATE THEM! It never occurred to me. Yes, it never once occurred to me that a date might be helpful.

That's not the half of it though. My iTunes is such a wreck too!! And this one is bad because I don't even know how to fix it. The majority of my tunes have been downloaded from Limewire, and they don't come correct... at all. Nothing in my play list is organized... nothing. It's a nightmare that stares me in the face, almost 4000 songs, and continues to grow. Pathetic, that's what it is.

Would one of you techy sorts be willing to come to my house and help me figure out how to organize my iTunes? How about my pictures? With those, I don't even know where to begin.

Meme's Spring Annoying?

Oh, the mighty Meme tag! And it's grip of shame and inner turmoil.

Since my current tagger, Pat of Annoyingly Boring? was gracious enough to point out in his tag, and I quote:

"Piper from Bliss in Bloom – because, well – she hasn’t done one since mid-December. Don’t know if she’s ignoring tags or just avoided them. Let’s find out!"

I think it's time for me to belly up to the bar, give a full frontal confession, blatant shame on display, slap me with my penance.

I currently owe at least four Meme's... to at least four amazing bloggers. The problem is that I procrastinated so long (and neglected to take notes) that I forgot who I owe them to, and even which Meme's they are. This is not because I don't love the bloggers who tagged me. I adore my friend Pat... he's ace!

Can you see my eye twitching? For some reason, Meme's and I have developed bad blood. Meme wants to know why I'm not friendlier, and why I don't jump on them faster. I want to know how many more random things I can pull out of my hat, that I haven't already Meme'd or written about... Meme's enduce chronic writers block for me. That's the truth. Chronic Writers Block!! They sap my creativity... or something. I don't think I'm alone in this either... I think that there are others who are afflicted with the symptoms of ominous Meme tags as well.

This is what you should visualize when you consider tagging me for a Meme. This could be me, or you.

It's not personal to anyone... and I truly love that I am thought enough of to get tagged by my peeps. When I've been tagged, I understand that it's the equivalent of a cyber hug... and I fumble with the remorse over not wanting to do another Meme, but also not wanting to shun a cyber hug. I love hugs!! And the huggers!! er... um... taggers.

I'm left in a tight spot. A sticky conundrum. I feel shame.

Pat also tagged BMG Mom, from Being a Mom is Great. As soon as I saw this, I immediately remembered that I owe BMG Mom a Meme too! (I'm crawling under my desk now, I have to hide my shame, guilt, and remorse) How can I make this right? BMG Mom even went out of her way to email me the meme info again, after I requested it... and I still didn't do it. I'm so sorry for the Meme snub BMG Mom... it's not personal, and it's not business either... it's me and my bizarre Meme issues. I have issues with Meme's.

I am the worst runner in the unending Meme marathon... I drop the baton every time it gets passed to me. I deserve to be kicked off the Meme team for good! I'm not a valuable player in the game called Meme... at all.

Here are all my published Meme's. Intended to imply that I have done more, and not published them... Chronic Writers Block produces unreadable works that must be removed from Blissy's archives.

That said, I am happy to do this Meme for Pat, and for BMG Mom... and all the other Meme taggers I've lost but not forgot. Does anyone question my sincerity? I hope not. I truly love all my blog friends!

Now, for the Meme tag that I could be remembered for revolting against, yet am just as happy to do. This is a nice Meme, I might add... answering questions, I can do that!

Name one thing you do every day:

~ Calculate the distance from point A to point B.

Name 2 things you wish you could learn:

~ How to make a living from blogging.

~ Extreme white water kayaking skills. I fantasize about going on kayaking expeditions all over the world. One day, this will be me...

Name 3 things that remind you of your childhood:

~ Emmylou Harris tunes. My Mom always had the best music playing, but Emmylou Harris spoke to me on a level that probably shaped who I am somehow.

~ Camping... again, with my Mom. She and I always went camping. I don't remember not knowing how to build a fire, pitch a tent, or 'go behind a bush.' Camping is second nature to me, I'd rather be camping right now actually.

~ Lite-Brite

Name 4 things you love to eat but rarely do:

~ Lobster. I only really like fresh-out-of-the-ocean seafood, if I'm going to eat it. There's nothing better. Which is one thing I enjoyed about living in Maine, the availability of fresh seafood.

~ Good, down home, southern BBQ. Ribs!

~ Brussels sprouts

~ Black & White Bean Chicken Chili - from a restaurant in Fort Collins called Austin's.

Name 5 things/people that make you feel good:

(side stepping all obligatory nods like kids, grandparents, etc.)

~ An expensive mani/pedi, the most exclusive salon with all the five star treatments for my hands and feet... I feel refreshed and not like a haggard Mom, but like a hot and hip 31 year old chick... for about two hours.

~ Talking with cute boys... of all ages. It's not a sexual thing, or a flirting thing... it's just much more fun to connect with dudes sometimes... you can skip lots of drama, laugh a lot, and enjoy the inevitable witty banter. I've always had more guy friends than girls, for this very reason.

~ My best friends who know me better than I know myself, and pull me up by my boot straps, and kick me in my pants when I need it. The friends who know all the dirt on me, and use it to keep me balanced.

~ The ruthless hunt for the perfect new handbag, the capture, and the possession of it. Having a new bag... it's like an extended adrenaline rush.

~ Sleeping -- for long, uninterrupted periods of time. Cold room, fresh air, old quilt, three pillows, a lulling fan blissfully humming... these things make for a makeshift retreat from every problem, concern, or chore.


Yippee! I finished a Meme!! What a load off! (to which you may reply: 'Piper, you made this harder than it needed to be.')

Tag time! (Don't hate me because I'm hypocritical)

~ Mishi aka Secret Agent Mama, because she said I could... and she rules like that.

~ Daizie aka Jodi, because I can't stop thinking about how much I appreciate her, and her mad blog header making skills. I am in love with my blog again, and it's because of her.

~ Strugla from hey, look at what I can do, because this is one of the coolest cats around, and he makes me laugh. He's an awesome blog friend.

~ Pinky Sue from Cheese in my Shoe, because she is a precious friend, funny, and amazingly crafty.

~ Amy from Doobleh-Vay, because I won't ever be able to get enough of her fabulousness.

"Is that Jesus?"

Conversations You Never Thought You'd Have. Vol 1.

Jackson, age 3, in Fort Collins, Colorado...

We are driving down the street, the usual route, past a really cool record store that has murals painted on the outside walls. Bright colors, and semi-accurate portraits of musical legends. It was hard to miss that record store, I know that I always looked at it, but never considered that Jackson might be too.

That day, while driving by the record store, Jackson pipes up from the back seat and says, 'Mommy, is that Jesus?'

My first thought was, 'huh?', I start looking around me, and say 'is what Jesus?'

Jackson raises his arm and points at the record store, 'is that Jesus?'

I see what he's pointing at, and the odd resemblance, and say, 'No, that's Bob Marley.'

Blissy Got a New Do!

Lilacs in my old bedroom window, can you smell the mountain air filling my home with the lilac aroma? Heavenly!

What do you think?? Do you love my new header as much as me?? That header is a complete labor of love from the extraordinarily generous, and awesome Jodi. I sent her some images, gave her my thoughts, and she worked her magic! She was so patient with me, and all my fumbling ideas... I owe her big time!

So, what's the symbolism about, what does the new header mean?

Obviously, if you know me at all, you know that I belong in the mountains... yet, I'm stuck in Oklahoma right now. So, the road to the mountains is symbolic of my dreams, symbolic of my journey in this next year... and my road to the life I want. Lilacs are also very meaningful to me, they hold lots of memories of my Granny and my Mom, and I love them myself. Plus, it's pretty!!

Bliss in Bloom, get it?

Betty Without a Board

My son Jackson, skating the bowl at the indoor skatepark.

That's my friend Scott, proprietor of ULS, the indoor skatepark where we live in the winter. Great dude, awesome mentor to Jackson.

Conrad Hale/Hospital Bill (same bowl that Jackson is skating in first shot)

I'm the only girl I know, except for some girls in Sugarhouse, SLC, that spend as much time at skateparks as I do. I love skateboarding, and it's all around me all the time. I can talk about tricks, and ramps, and boards, trucks, and doh doh's and not get lost even once. I've hung out with skaters since I was a teenager, and I've always been into skating since then.

Jackson started riding when he was 6, in Wyoming, and Jeremy had a big half pipe in his backyard... so, he could skate anytime, and all the time. He's getting really good now, and I couldn't be happier. I think it's awesome that he is into something that I know, because if he was playing a different sport, I don't think I'd be as interested. When he played soccer, I was bored out of my mind. Fortunately, he was too. I believe his exact words were, "all you do is run around trying to kick a ball, that's not really cool." Noah is four now, and he's starting to scoot around on Jackson's old mini... I'm so excited that both of my son's are going to be skaters!

But, I don't skate though, at all. I suppose this could make me seem like a poser to some, but not really. I'm a fan, a coach, a taxi to and from, I foot the bills, and I'm their biggest cheerleader... I'd say that makes me a Betty without a board.

Check out Ultimate Limits Skatepark on MySpace

I Dig Music

(Confession: Everything inside of me, as I look at this picture, is thinking that Jason Lee is the hottest man alive!! Double Confession: I kind of love boys who look like this in general. Yes.)

Have you seen the movie Almost Famous? It's one of my top favorite movies, of all time. Something about this movie is about me, and my life. Lot's of personal reflections. Lot's of great music. Something about being free, and young, feeling alive, and inspired. I would have made a great Stillwater groupie, screaming 'Stillwater!'... reminiscent of 'play some Skynard!!'

I've been listening to different music lately. Not really any thing new, per se, just stuff I haven't listened to in a while... and perhaps forgot. So, I've been rediscovering music I love, I suppose.

For instance, it's been a long time since I've listened to Sonic Youth. I dig Sonic Youth. I haven't listened to Jane's Addiction much since probably 1995... I dig Jane's Addiction. And Sade... I love Sade. And I love Elliott Smith's music, love it. Even though his mode of suicide is the most horrific way I can imagine going, I think it's that inner angst that makes his music so penetrable. Much the way the Kirk Cobain taught me how to feel new depths of inner suffering, it's not necessarily a good thing to carry over to the 'real' world... but all the same, it's what makes the music profound, and legendary. I'm listening to this music like I've never heard it before, but I know all the words... it's new again, yet comfortably familiar.

I dig hard driving guitar riffs, and powerful bass. But, melodic pedal point jams make me weak in the knees. Music comes alive for me, inside of me. I sometimes wonder if other people 'feel' music the way I do. I feel it, like a living thing.

Classic Rock is my favorite, I suppose. I also love honkey tonk, classic country music though (something I have in common with my friend Catherine of Chicken Fried Therapy). I like rap, and mellow stuff. I really love all music, all types, my tastes are quite eclectic at best. As long as the music is real, and not completely contrived, I can listen to it.

One of my blogging soul sisters, Amy of Doobleh-Vay, and I traded mix CD's for Christmas. She is on the other side of the Country, yet I can feel her spirit in these tunes. She might be one of the coolest chicks I've ever 'met.' When I listen to her CD, I feel as cool as I did when I used to sit and listen to the Singles soundtrack... over, and over, and over. The tunes she gave me are fresh, some stuff I haven't heard before, and fresh because they are tunes I had forgotten. Amy, thank you!!

For more insights on the music I listen to, you could check out my profile... I've listed everything that's getting constant play on my iPod.

The picture below is the delicious man known as Citizen Cope. Amazing music, amazingly hot man... Huckdoll this one is for you!!

(Triple confession: I also love boys who look like this, seriously, how could I not?)

Fight Nights

The coolest thing about my boys right now, is that they like to play together. Actually, it's a rare occasion that they play together without fighting. So, one might not think that they like to play together at all. They fight constantly.

Normal brotherly love, I presume? This is how I live these days. I forgot what silence sounds like a long time ago. I sometimes wonder what it's going to be like five years from now... when Jackson is as big as me, and Noah is gaining on him fast. I'm out numbered. Fortunately, they love their Mom, and I think I've instilled the fear in them pretty well.

'The Fear': A Southern term, I think, meaning that they know what Mom is capable of. Respect... something like it.

It's Zits at Interviews for Me

I have a big day tomorrow. I'm pretty excited about the company, the potential, the pay, and the fact that a really amazing friend of mine works there too. He's one of my best High School friends. It's a great opportunity, and the big important interview is set for 10:00 am.

I have the perfect outfit to wear, and good shoes. Perfect jewelry, make-up, scent, and hair-do. Good resume, great references, and fairly awesome interviewing skills.

I've planned it out, I'm not really nervous, I'm looking forward to it.

However, there is one all-of-a-sudden huge and unfortunate problem. This problem popped up on my chin today. I'm talking about the mother of all zits... the horrible and painful... glowing like a tractor beam... underground... un-poppable kind.

Why?

Happy Birthday Noah

Four years ago today, a precious baby was born, I called him Noah.

Noah is the baby that I prayed for, and he's been the joy and delight of our little family from day one. He's a big four year old now. He loves hotwheels, and anything that his brother is doing.

He's a happy and funny kid, and he's still my cuddle bug. I got him a scooter, and he hasn't stopped playing outside with the big boys since he got it. I should have bought him a scooter like his brothers, because this one doesn't do bunny hops very well. I wasn't thinking that he'd go straight to hardcore, but I should have known. I think I've got two extreme sportsters on my hands, which is fine with me. As long as he doesn't break his new scooter in the first week, I think it will be a success. He also got Chick Hicks, a car from the movie Cars... which he's been asking for since long before Christmas, but I couldn't figure out what he was talking about because he called it 'Chicklicks,' and I thought he was talking about gum. Auntie Marisa saved the day when she found Chick. Unfortunately, last night Jackson threw Chick Hicks on the roof of our apartment... evidently at the request of Noah.

Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes, thanks Marisa! Cupcakes baked in cones, icing looks like ice cream, but it's really just cupcakes in a cone. Brilliant best friend!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOAH!

Mommy and Jackson love you so much, and you fill our lives with joy!

Another Winter of Discontent

I don't want a boring life... I am the opposite type of person who is comfortable with mundane. I don't want to be fixed in one spot... until I die. I can't stand feeling confined to regime. I'm feeling suffocated by my responsibilities. There is no real solution to this dilemma. Variety is the spice of life, right? Without moderate, and frequent doses of variety, I start to feel stymied. It's not that I'm looking for something new all the time, and it's not that I can't be content with all that I have, and am. I think that I am just prone to feeling like I need to escape... escape the pressure of carrying all the weight of my life, and my sons lives. I do it all by myself, and it's really a constant challenge... struggle... to find the want to keep going at this pace. But, there's no other choice.

I see why some women chose to abandon their 'responsibilities', take off, and try to forget what they once had... they don't do it because they don't love their kids, or the people in their lives... they do it because they know they can't keep going at that pace. They don't think they have it in them, or, they know that they don't. I know that I have it in me, because it's all I've done for four years. I don't hate my life, or resent my kids. I'm not even unhappy that I am divorced... or bitter about being single. I just live the same, very hard life... every single minute. And it's not getting easier, the load doesn't get lighter.

One of the most impossible jobs is being a single Mom. It's all work, and no play... and no choice in the matter. Everything is riding on your shoulders, you don't have choices. You don't really get breaks, and what's worse is that there's no one to share the load. No soft place to fall at the end of the day. It's very hard not to feel alone, and to not feel ashamed about it. Especially when all of the people around me have spouses and significant others to smile at them, or listen to the cry... or help fold laundry and do dishes.

Would I have gotten married, and had children, knowing that it would turn out the way it did? No. I didn't ask for this, but what person does? It's the card I was dealt, and I'm trying to make the best of it.

I don't want to have to wait until my kids are grown to start living my life. I don't have a life outside of my responsibilities. But, maybe no adult really does... maybe that's what being an adult is.

I need to get away. I need a vacation, a sabbatical... a different pace. I need to not live with the constant pressure of knowing that everything around me will blow up if I don't make the right choices all the time. I need a hot date. I need to get out of this town! I need to feel alive again, not confined. I need some good, old fashioned fun! I need to laugh until I cry, and feel the wind in my face, and that wind needs to be fresh air. I don't know why the caged bird sings... unless it's on frequent doses of Ecstasy.

I've felt this coming for a long time, and truthfully, this was the root behind the whole month of Gratitude posting... I try so hard to see the good, to be grateful for what I've got, and make the most of it. And, it did work... a bit. Really though, I was just holding my breath. I'm still holding my breath.

I Have an Applicable Aura

(I know that these are corny. But, I've never done one before, and then loved what I found when I did. So, I thought I'd share.)

Your Aura is Violet

Idealistic and thoughtful, you have the mind and ideas to change the world. And you have the charisma of a great leader, even if you don't always use it! The purpose of your life: saying truths that other people dare not say Famous purples include: Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Susan B. Anthony Careers for you to try: Political Activist, Inventor, Life Coach

What Color Is Your Aura?

If you do one too, I want to see.

Also, just a reminder that Bliss in Bloom is currently under reconstruction... so don't be alarmed if the next time you click your link to me, you feel totally lost! It's all good. Thanks for all your pep talks about letting loose, and freaking out... I'm completely freaked out now, thanks.

Do You Ever?

Do you ever catch a glimpse of your life, and think, 'How am I keeping all this together?' I do.

Do you ever think that something might explode inside you if you don't allow yourself to freak out?

I am trying super hard to keep it all together, and not freak out, if you don't mind me saying.



Many thanks to Momo, for asking me if I was grateful about not having to write grateful posts anymore. (See Grateful posts)

I'm Liking My Blog Again

Notice anything different about Bliss in Bloom today? Think. Look. What do you see?



It's wider! Just a teeny bit wider!! I'm over joyed by this... that cramped up, claustrophobic sensation as been lifted, I feel like little Blissy is breathing easier too!

All the thanks go to my wonderful friend Jodi from Beyond the Cracked Window. Some of you know her as Daizie. I gave her the keys, and she spent the entire night wrestling with the Blissy coding, and today... voila! I have more width!

Jodi is an artist, and a saint. She is going to help me spruce this blog up, so in the coming days you can expect to see some changes. Don't panic... she is a professional blog decorator, in my estimation. She did the three column thing for me, and didn't even smack me once I saw it and told her that 'oops', I don't really like that at all. She's a doll!

I would love to get your input on this though. What I would like to know from you is, when you hear the name 'Bliss in Bloom' what does your imagination picture. I'm working on ideas for a new header and color scheme. What does 'Piper of Love' look like in your imagination? Colors, patterns, pictures. Be as vivid as you can, all of your ideas will help me sort out my own scattered indecisiveness. If you were in school, and asked to draw a picture of this blog, just from the name alone, or my name, what would you draw?

I Don't Like My Blog Anymore

I feel like by writing about this on Blogger that the FBI, CIA, FDA, OPEC, and Warren Commission are all going to swing into action and take me out of the blogosphere for voicing my opposition. I'm such a loyalist, I feel like I'm traitor for complaining about Blogger at all... after all, this is my blog home.

I am suffering with severe blog envy though, I feel like everyone's blog is better than my blog. WordPress and TypePad seem to have such better features for comments. But, they lack a lot of the freedom with layout that I've come to enjoy here on Blogger. I'm a big "pleasing to the eye", "curb appeal" type of chick. So, I don't like that over at WordPress you can't flip colors, and fonts around without lots of coding... I've developed a severe aversion to html headaches. That said though, working with Blogger has definitely made me stronger, and smarter.

What I want is a bit more width, and another column on the left side. I want trackback, or something like it, where I can respond to my precious commenter's more efficiently... this is another thing that grieves me. I'm such a schlep at replying to my commenter's, even though I want to so bad... but there is currently no easy way to do that on Blogger.

All of this should have been prefaced with "I could be so wrong about all of this." I don't know what I am doing! But, I do. I should have studied blogging in college. I could buy "Blogging for Dummies" and store it in the undereye bags that I would acquire from the many sleepless nights spent trying to tinker with the master coding that I have now. Knowing me, I'd mess it up so bad, burst in a fit of rage, and take a sledge hammer to my PC. It would feel very gratifying for about two seconds, then I'd cry for about three years. So many of you good people have tried to help me with your suggestions, and unfortunately all I hear when I try to translate your words is Charlie Brown's teacher making that "wah, wah, wah, wah, wah, wah" sound. It doesn't translate. I need a techy boyfriend.

Little Guys

My little boys make everything in life a million times better. I always thought I would have girls. But God knew what he was doing giving me boys, I'm so grateful. My sons are the best thing about my life, and I don't really remember what I thought life was about before I became a Mom.

They are so low maintenance, at least as far as kids are concerned. They are fun, and so funny! They try to make me laugh every minute of the day, and it makes them so happy to see me smile. They love my cooking, they think I am pretty, they do what I tell them to do... it's the perfect relationship in so many ways! ~lol

Jackson has started to be a defender of his Mom, and I never taught him to do that. He won't even let Noah smart off to me. I never saw this coming, but it's wonderful. He is teaching his brother to respect me... which is the way big brothers are supposed to be I guess? Noah still crawls in bed with me sometimes, and even though I don't get a wink of sleep with him lodged in my ribs, I know that he's there because he likes to be next to me. They draw me pictures, sing me songs, tell me jokes, and when no one else is looking, they will give me lots of hugs and kisses.

I appreciate my sons more than I ever imagined that I could. I never anticipated appreciating them, but it's so cool. These boys are the best thing about my life, and the greatest gift God ever gave me. When I look at them, and my heart swells up with pride, I sometimes wonder how they came from me at all...they make me look like I've done a good job at life.

The Beautiful Upside

My friend Antman said it best when he said, "There are times in life where words can not express emotions; times when what we feel is greater than the lexicon will afford. Please consider this one of those life's moments." (in response to this post)

I am blown away by all of the love and support, and words of comfort and encouragement, that you all so generously bestowed to me upon hearing that I lost my job. (Head Change) I really want to reach through your monitor and wrap my arms around each of your necks, squeeze tight, and tell you that your friendship means the world to me. Since I can't do that, I decided to tell you that I took your words to heart when you told me that this is an opportunity. Here now is how I see my future, the beautiful upside to all the downsides of late.

If an outsider looked at my life, they would clearly see that I am a struggling single Mom. I lost both a relationship and a job that I loved in the last half of '07. Everyone might even say it's understandable that I feel like a loser. But I don't, because I know that everything that is about to come my way is going to be new, and better.

If that man, who I thought was the best of the best, wasn't actually the best, then that means that the best one for me is still out there! How exciting is that!! That means that I am going to fall in love again. How great is it to fall in love? I'm nothing but excited about that, and that makes it easier to let go of the past...because I know that the future is going to be better than anything I've experienced in all my 31 years. Bye-bye Jeremy, you're not it, and I'm not sad about it.

If my job, which I loved and was extraordinarily passionate about, was not the best job for me, then the best one is still out there. How exciting is that!! Now I get to take that work experience with me to the better job that awaits...this will no doubt make me an asset. Bye-bye old job that I enjoyed, there is something better waiting for me. I'm not sad about it.

Yes, essentially, I am starting completely over...again. And no, I can't see what's ahead, and there is so much fog on the trail that I can't clearly see the steps I should take. Yet even that is a good thing, and I clearly see why now. I am on a new adventure!! I love adventure, unknowns are magical if you think about them the right way. I'll be documenting the journey, and I am so happy that my precious friends will be going along for the ride...passing me Gatorade when I'm losing my energy.

Thank you everyone, you are cherished. Blog friends are real friends, you'll never be able to make me believe otherwise.

When a House is Not a Home

I've lived in more houses than anyone else on the planet. Just since age 18, I think I can count 18 residences. The funny thing is that all I have ever really wanted is a home. A home in the idyllic sort of way... like a place where you stay for several years and accumulate your lifetime. The home where everyone comes home to, where even the walls are full of so much love and memories that the warmth radiates and engulfs all your senses when you walk in the door. I've never had a place like that, ever. Even my grandparents moved as much as me.

Each place I have lived, I've tried to make it homey. I unpack, decorate, live, make it warm, cozy, and envision myself staying for years. Then, for whatever reason, stay much less longer than I imagined.

Here are pictures of my two favorite houses that I've called home.

This is my house on Crabtree Lane, in Jackson, Wyoming. I LOVED living in this house. I loved the space, the mountains all around me, and especially the enormous deck on the back that had views of the Tetons. My boys and I were extremely happy in this house, and I did not want to leave. But, I needed to for various reasons, and found myself back in Oklahoma.

This is the house that we built in Fort Collins, Colorado. I picked out everything; the floors, the cabinets, the colors, the everything. This was the first and only house I lived in where a mortgage was paid, rather than rent. This was the dream. Our first house. Shortly after we moved into our house, my ex husband was laid off his corporate management job (a result of 9/11)... and we ended up broke, lost the house, he went off the deep end, and we found ourselves in another rental house...this time in Texas. I can see the entire collapse of our marriage, the reasons why, and the roots of it all when I see this house. So, I guess I don't really love this house. But, I sure did like it a whole lot while I was there.


I just signed the lease for a second year in the apartment we live in now. If I manage to live in this place for another year, I will be very surprised. I've never really lived in one house longer than a year. Same town yes, not same house. This is not something I am super-proud of, it's just the way it's been. I yearn for stability, but have come to understand that my heart is my home no matter where I am. I do not want to live in Oklahoma, I am a mountain girl. What I am vowing to myself this time, is that I will not move back to the mountains until I'm certain I won't leave again. How will I be certain? I have no idea.

Bring on the lectures about kids needing stability, if you feel the need, I completely agree. As a kid, I was never in one place longer than a year either, until High School. I moved out in July after graduation.

Interestingly enough, I have lived in this apartment for a year, and never let myself completely unpack. Denial. Now, I feel compelled to finalize the unpacking...I'm going to settle in and get cozy. I'm going to be happy about being here, as much as possible. I'm going to will myself to enjoy it, and make the most of this second year here. I know that I will move back to the high country, but not until it's the right time, and I see that as a big sign of maturity on my part. Especially since all I can think about is packing my truck, and making fast tracks to the life I really want. It will happen, soon enough.

I've Got No Game

So, I have two sons (in case you're new). What does every boy in America love more than anything? Video games!! Jackson has a Play Station, and a Game Cube. It's because of these little machines that my front door gets slammed about 15 times a day by the neighborhood boys who come to play.

I've never played any of these games with Jackson. Okay, maybe I tried once a few years ago, but I couldn't get into it. I used to have mad game...when I had the high score in Galaga at the pizza place for more than a year, this was in the early '90's. A lot has changed since then. I can play Galaga, Ms. Pacman, and Dig Dug like a champ! We had an old school Galaga table game at my house when I was in High School. Instant, unending credits, with no quarters...my parents front door was haunted with boys coming to play me at Galaga. I'm not kidding you, I can school any punk at Galaga, any day of the week!!

Jackson asks me to play with him when there's no one else around to play (which is almost never). I've always said something easy to get out of it...because I don't know how to play these games. They don't make sense to me...or something, maybe I'm just getting old.

Today when Jackson asked me to play with him, I said "I don't know how to play," and he said, "It's easy Mom, all you have to do is push buttons!"

Head Change

I'm amazed at how much my personal identity is based in what I "do." I know that lots of people base their entire identity, purposefully, on what they "do." Meaning their job title, or activities. A banker, a lawyer, an athlete; and that, to them, is who they are. I guess I never realized that I do this to myself until recently. It seems like everyone is title conscious, label conscious, and status conscious. I know that I am, and I don't like it. I'm not a something, I am a someone! I've been crippling my self esteem by even trying to look for my worth in what I "do."

The only "do" that carries any weight is what I do for others. If we can enhance another persons life, be a blessing, a friend, a mentor... the mark we leave on them is what people will ultimately remember about us. I'm not going to take an Executive title with me when I die, or my favorite Uggs, or my mothers diamond ring...so essentially they don't matter at all. Does this make sense?

I feel like this is a big ramble of scattered mumbo-jumbo, but somewhere inside of it is a point. I entered 2008 with the surprise of being laid off my job. Now, I don't have the same title, I don't even have a job. Filling out applications, and doing the interviewing thing, and the waiting, and the uncertainty of my future, and my ability to provide for my kids is messing with my psyche. I don't want to lose my energy or my passion because of this head change. I'm trying not to "feel" like a loser to be honest with you.

I love what Coco Chanel said (speaking of labels, yum)

"How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone."

My Girl, She's a Beater!

White Lightning - In living color

My girl has been back on the road for a week or so now, and I've become familiar with all of it's glitches again. I don't know how I forgot about them, as they are annoying as heck!

For instance, I rolled my passenger side window down...then remembered I can't do that because it won't roll back up. I don't have a drivers side, rear view mirror...this is dangerous. I forgot that the power-steering comes and goes. This morning, I managed to drive all the way across town with the emergency brake on. (yikes) White Lightning didn't seem to notice at all. Also, there's lots of loud flapping and grinding noises happening. Some when I turn, some when I go fast, lots when I shift gears and turn at the same time. Noah's door takes the Fonzarelli touch to open. And, the RMP thingy waves back and forth across the meter as frantically as hummingbird wings...it's busted.

I'm tired of driving a beater. This is the year that I am going to change that, with the grace of God. I like to joke about my truck, but I stay positive because it could always be worse. I have been in "worse", which is why I'm the least likely person to complain about anything. I'm blessed to have a vehicle, and I know it! But, frankly, this is scary to me. Me and my boys, out on the road in this...and I don't have a cell phone.

I'm going to start believing that I will be blessed with a BRAND NEW truck!! With full coverage insurance. Not because I'm a bad driver...accidents happen without my help all the time!

This is post #5 in the on-going coverage of White Lightning; the decent pass car that lost it's clout by moving to Oklahoma, and getting a reverse mullet.

Yup, I'm Single...No Worries!

I'd like to say that our world has come to a place where it believes that a single woman is okay with being single, and not harboring despair about it. I'd like to say that our world can believe that a single Mom is not desperately seeking a man to take care of her. I'd like to believe it myself, but it's not the truth.

Today, someone told me that my three year old son told them this...

"Daddy can find a girlfriend, and Jeremy (my exboyfriend) can find a girlfriend, but Mommy can't find a boyfriend."

Not one ounce of this sounds true to me...for one thing, my son is three! It takes a lot of thought to compile that kind of statement, and I doubt he thinks that way to be honest with you. He may have jibber-jabbered about Daddy having a girlfriend. He might have jibber-jabbered about Jeremy having a girlfriend. He might have said that I don't have a boyfriend. I doubt he put it together that way though. Unless he was coerced, with a heavy amount of practice saying it. What I think is that this person feels like I should have a man, and wants me to and hurry up and get one.

I am not a crazed femi-nazi on a war path for she-power. I'm not trying to say that I don't need a man. I'm also not saying that I need one either. But, I'm not in the market for a man...I am completely comfortable being single - a single Mom even. Throwing a man into this mix isn't something that I take lightly, and as I've said before, in my post The Man of my Dreams, I am not looking.

Why is that so hard to believe? If I wanted a man, then I would go get one...I would have no problem finding one. But, I don't operate that way. And, I think that is okay!! Yes, a relationship, with an awesome man, would be wonderful!!! I wouldn't turn that away. But a girl can't shop for that. Why would she want to?

A woman is a fabulous creature! She should know it, and be comfortable being with herself. In my experience, men don't want girls who are shopping anyway. I have faith that when the time is right, it will happen. And I am not worried about it...at all!! I'm a great catch, and I will have to be caught.

I didn't give much of a response to the person who told me that today. I wrote about it instead... refer to My Blogging Manifesto for reference to this recent blogging empowerment.

Here is something that Noah did say today:

"YOUR MIND IS A BIG FAT BRAIN!"

I Got Your Resolutions Right Here, Baby!

Obligatory New Year resolutions are not something I subscribe to. I can't say that I have ever made one. I feel no shame in saying that, I don't run with the masses.

Today though, I started thinking about some things that I needed to get done anyway. So, I'll call them resolutions, what the hey?

The first thing on my list is eliminating the mysterious beep, beep, beeping, that comes out of the closet in my living room. I've lived in this apartment for almost a year, and still haven't unpacked completely. The closet is a huge, walk-in, and it is crammed full of boxes. The beeping happens every hour, and once a day, it beeps for a solid minute. My minds eye tells me that the beeps come from a watch...a watch that is packed in one of the boxes.

Yes, I have lived with an annoying beep for almost a year. It's not really noticed though, kinda like when I was 20, and worked at Home Depot, and all my customers asked me how I tolerated the constant beeping of the fork-lifts...after a while, you just don't hear it anymore.

I also need to find some missing shoes. I've written about the fates of shoes in my house before. (here) I have one beautiful black boot, one lovely slipper, and one lovely pump...their mates have vanished. Completely disappeared.

I have a slow draining bathtub...likely due to the fact that I have really long, and thick, curly hair. I have no idea how to tackle this, but something needs to be done...there's nothing nastier than standing in six inches of your shower water.

I'd like to figure out how to win against the ever constant battle to keep my house clean. This probably won't happen until my kids leave home though, I'll just have to deal with it. Don't you ever get frustrated when you've just cleaned your whole house, and then it's a wreck again the next day? How does that happen? Cleaning the same messes over, and over, and over, is like Chinese water torture to me.

So, that's about it. I'm going to find and destroy a beep, locate missing and beloved shoes, call a plumber (or the apartment maintenance man, duh), and continue to clean my house. This is a list that has accomplishment written all over it.