Entry for June 16, 2007

So this picture is 3rd in a series taken a few nights ago. It may be a little anticlimatic, but I like it still.
This is a little funny thing found on blogthings. Personally, I'm glad they chose eagle, for I'm writing an epic poem about 4 animals and one is an eagle. Studying reference material on all 4, I was excited about the character of these four I had chosen. But I was most impressed with the eagle (golden eagle)
Now about the whale. Yeah, right. I'm probably more whale-like now than I've ever been. (Turns head and snickers while grimacing if that's possible.)
but then I like the descrip. and think it's fairly well on.

Your Animal Personality

Your Power Animal: Eagle Animal You Were in a Past Life: Whale You are active, a challenger, and optimistic. Hard-working, you are always working towards a set goal.

The Animal Personality Test

Addition to previous post

I took this picture last night with my DSLR. It's the trellis with its lights reflecting in the pool water. The torch is visible to the right and the horizontal lights are under the edge of the pool rail and reflected as well.

It's a wonderful life - remake

Sometimes I get so crabby. I read a pass-it-on email from a friend containing a supposed piece written by Jay Leno about American ingratitude. Whether it was written by him or not is not important. Truth is I gripe needlessly. Tonight I sat on my new deck, listening to the waterfall, the night birds, and the frogs after getting out of a light lined pool the perfect temp for a swim. Torches cast an added glow while discouraging insects. I was sipping a tall rootbeer float and I thought of all the things I gripe about. How spoiled am I?
My house is perpetually in a state of not-quite. But it's comfortable, no strike that. It's enjoyable. It's not the fancy, all impressive, manicured place that some of my friends live in, but they really are no happier with theirs than I am with mine. Sometimes I'm self-conscious when people with 'more' stare into my not-quite world, but tonight I realized how much I have, how much I enjoy it. I told my God "Thank you" tonight and I meant it.
I want to remodel my kitchen and I get snippy about it and am always looking forward. My ice maker can't be hooked up. My oven is too small. The space gets cramped when more than one of us is working there. The hot water stays hot until you turn it off, then you have to let it run again. But it's still more than adequate. I have all the appliances I can use and some I only use on rare occasions. It's all at my fingertips. Nothing breaks down regularly. I have to fill the ice tray so it will complete it's cycle. Wow, how hard is that. Yet I'm often ungrateful for a kitchen that many in the world would dream of. And yes, even when I remember and feel grateful, I still want to remodel it.
The list could go on and on. Truth is, we train ourself to be ungrateful. We watch all the latest and see all that's available and teach ourselves to want that. Advertising fuels sales and sales fill pockets so that someone somewhere can want more. I know we need a strong economy. But I'm not really hurting. I'm sure there are those who are. Yet, sometimes we are dissatisfied because someone somewhere is telling us we have less than we should have. It might be good for us to really think sometimes if our "needs" are even reality at all. I'm not rich. Or am I?
Do I need or want new shoes? Do I need or want a new car? Do I need or want to build a new master bedroom? Do I need or want a jacuzzi? (I definitely need a jacuzzi!)
My husbands niece said she won't let her kids watch cartoons - because of the commercials. When they watch cartoons, they won't play with the toys they have. They whine and beg and refuse to be happy with piles of toys recently acquired. Maybe it's time for some of us "grown-ups" to ask ourselves some hard questions like "Why do I gripe?"
The picture? My new deck. I made the table last Saturday with a little help from my mate. We drove 10 minutes to a super hardware store purchased the exact lumber we wanted from a large selection and I measured and cut and screwed and nailed and sanded with a wide selection of well made power tools. Then we carried it to the upper level our deck obtained in the same way, adorned it with a large wood and canvas umbrella and have enjoyed it repeatedly since. Why do I gripe?

Faith, Hope and Love

“Now faith, hope and love remain and the greatest of these three is love.”

In the past few years, I’ve embedded lines from a contemporary Christian song in my mind. ‘Give me faith to move this mountain. Give me hope when times are hard. Give me love to conquer all. Give me You to fill my heart.’ Quoting these lines in a time of need has set my mind on a rectifying path often.

I’ve stated several times to many audiences that I was the spoiled child of an incredible father. My father was a stabilizing effect in an otherwise chaotic, and sometimes irrational childhood. Had my father been aware of the irrational parts of my life, I’m not sure what he would have done.
Dad was strong on discipline, but not the abusive kind. He disciplined mostly by example, direction and training. He also talked a lot. That may be where I got some of mine. It’s not to say he never spanked me, I just don’t really remember him spanking me, though I know I got some from him. And kind as he was, there was a line nobody crossed with my dad.
I don’t think daddy ever administered corporal punishment to me in anger. Sometimes words were thrown in anger but not hands, fists, or belts or such. Yet once he did punish me in fear. I shall never forget it.
My mother worked as a professional seamstress at that time in a mens’ clothing department. She usually worked until 9 PM. Daddy got home in the afternoon about an hour and a half after I got home from school. There was an unspoken rule. I came home with a family from the private school I attended or I waited on dad. On rare occasions, I would walk the two miles home, but only if I knew I could be there when dad got home. I didn’t like walking by myself and seldom would unless I’d just missed the last train out, so to speak.
Daddy and I would have supper together and on occasion make a late supper and set an ‘elegant’ table for my mom as well. When she had a day off during the week, she’d bake something yummy and spend the rest of the time gardening or visiting friends or talking on the phone.

A rabbit needs chasing here for clarification. My dad had a reputation for being a man of integrity and wisdom. He wasn’t a pastor, as such, or a preacher, as such, but he mentored many people through finances and marriages and substance abuse recovery. He spoke in jails and nursing homes and filling stations and restaurants about his own transformation, gratitude and resolve. In this capacity, he met a couple and mentored them for several years in all of the above categories. They came to our home frequently and their three boys and I played when younger and visited and played board games as we got older. Dad kept a kind but watchful eye on this process. He despised the oldest son “JP”– a couple of years older than myself – and made it known that I was to develop nothing but a very distant relationship with him. This was not a problem to me. There were too many fish to be caught and daddy had taught me much about fishing! That rabbit caught and fried, I continue with the story at hand.

One afternoon, I, being the editor of the school yearbook, missed my ride home. As I hurried out, “JP’s” mom said “The Ogles said they had to hurry and I said I’d take you home.” That was fine with me. I had a lot to carry and didn’t relish lugging it 2 miles. As I got in the car, she said: “I have just a couple of errands to run.” Something inside said “OH,oh,” but I settled in between twin brothers in the back and we started out. Those errands included bill paying, a visit to the attorney, and a “short” stop for groceries. A couple of times I offered to just walk on home. She insisted it would be just a little. It got dark. I knew dad was home and would be furious. After buying groceries, she needed to take them home so nothing would go bad. When we got to her house she asked “JP” to take me home. At my wide eyed alarm. She told “JP” to drive carefully and take me straight home. She told me she would call daddy and let him know what happened.
Her call was as timely as the trip home.
When I arrived, my dad was looking out the window. Before he got to the front door, “JP” pealed off leaving rubber, smoke and noise behind. I walked up the sidewalk feeling abandoned and defensive. No explanation was tolerated. My father exploded into a whirlwind of F5 characteristic. He threatened, berated, used language I never heard before or after. He struck me.
I sat wounded, angry and bitter in my room when I heard the phone ring. Then it rang again. One call was from “JP’s” mom, the other was from the previously non-present spouse in the Ogle home who had heard her say she’d bring me home. When dad barged into my room a few minutes later, I wouldn’t even look at him. I knew he knew, just from the conversations I’d overheard. I was ashamed for him, but still angry and hurt. He told me to get my sweater, wash my face and come with him. It wasn’t an optional request.
He took me to our favorite restaurant and ordered for me. We sat in silence for awhile. Eventually he began to talk of his dreams and hopes and fears. He was very explicit in his admissions of fear. This was as close to an apology as I would get. It may have been the only way he knew how to apologize to me. His dreams were his confidence in my character and abilities. His hopes were his expression of love and devotion. I was still angry but no longer hurt or bitter as we walked back up the sidewalk and into our house. Mom was home. Dad just said “We got a late start and so I took her out to eat.” My mom didn’t ask. Later that night I contemplated the fear that could slay my father’s integrity. Eventually I accepted it.
It wasn’t until many years later that I understood the secret here. What temptation and anger cannot touch, fear can destroy in a second. Fear has only one battleground: the mind. Fear is no respecter of physical or emotional strength. The only way to beat it is to arm the mind in advance.

Now faith, hope and love remain.
The picture is a scan of dad and my 4th daughter 30 years ago

Activity

Activity calls me.

And creative thoughts sink into the soggy mire
Dirt and peat and rock and mortar
Just one more event and I could say
“You, my love, my passion, my poem are done.”

Dust and laundry and droplets on a window pane
They interfere, what right?
Yet there they are, demanding social conscience
For friends and foe who never come to call.

I am a painter, poet, sculptor!
Perhaps, I'm only a house maid
Who desperately wants to serve the work.
While pieces of my life stand out of place.

Watering, feeding, planting, weeding
Just so it can grow and bring more interference.
My demanding menagerie of self inflicted nag
Looks at me through glass that needs a rag

But ideas and dreams and one more try for immortality
Stand quiet, gently pressing, waiting in the wings
Anticipating chance to live and speak
And bring their promises complete into my world.

For now, they only wait and pine
Activity calls me.

Busy-ness

It's morning after a long day. 
I had my first swim of the season this afternoon. At first the water was a little cool, but my body acclimated quickly and it was quite nice. I got the sealing coat on the stucco this evening and the trim paint though I didn't finish until about 9:30. I'll have to age it sometime soon. The trim will have to be changed. Every little flaw shows up. Normally my mister doesn't leave flaws, but I told him to build it like a garden shed. I'm hoping a darker brown will make the places less apparent. I will 'paint' the doors when I get to it. I'm hoping for barn doors - with big iron hinges. I've even considered putting in windows with fire showing! Who knows what I will really do.
The picture is one I painted of my grand daughter holding her niece (another granddaughter.) It is based in a picture my husband took last summer in NC.
Well, Hobbes is trying to get me to go to bed, so I guess I will. Not like I'm not tired. Just a little unsettled for some reason. 
Peace, Blessings, Night - All.