Not all those who wander...

I have no desire to argue religion with anyone.  I will not speak out against someone's beliefs, even if I do not agree.

For the sake of argument, which I have no desire to argue, I will say that I do not agree with most religions in their entirety.

I have been asked recently what religion I am.  How much easier it would be to ask what blood type I am.  I am B positive.  Nothing will change that.  It is part of my DNA.  B positive.  Religion is not a part of my DNA.

I was not handed unwavering faith along with assigned gender, hair color, or dare I say, sexual preference. I was baptized into a religion that came to me through my parents, and their parents.

Along with age came awareness that I did not have to accept this religion.  I did not have to believe what was being told to me.  I could choose.  (enter here the case of Free Will).

I have not found any one doctrine to be my one true path.  I have instead opened my heart to many.  There is so much beauty to be found in every religion.

Let me clarify here that I am talking strictly religion, not faith.  Faith is its own entity and I dare not step on anyone's faith.


"Seek a true friend, for a friend seeks the benefit of a friend, Do good to the people for the sake of God or for the peace of your own soul that you may always see what is pure and save your heart from the darkness of hate. "

What an amazing and truthful quote.  Does it mean any less that it is Islamic?


"The highest peace is the peace between opposites".  Does this quote resonate any less because it was spoken by a Rabbi?

I am liberal this is true, I find comfort where I need to, and in my own way.  Yes I will open the door to the Jehovah Witness and yes I will actually read the literature.

Every moment of every day is an opportunity to find some personal truth and I refuse to shut my eyes, heart and soul to something that may help me get through a moment of need, or gratitude.

"Man is that he might have joy."  Joseph Smith, founder of the Mormon religion.

You may believe me to be a sinner, and most certainly damned for eternity.  You may believe that because I do not follow your chosen path I am doomed to wander.

Lord of the Rings will tell you, "Not all those who wander are lost."

My personal choice is mine alone.  I do not ask you to join me, exalt me, or judge me.  I am my own judge, jury and ultimately executioner.  Because I choose to continually seek and explore does not mean I ask the same of anyone else.

There is a word that I love and find to be one of the most powerful greetings when used with a full heart.

Namaste.

To greet someone with this word is an act of submission, it is bowing to them and saying, I see and bow to the God within you.  Claiming submission to another person is one of the most freeing acts possible. Can you bow to the God within another person even if their God is not your own?


Religions can be discussed, fought over, killed over, and died for.  They can also exalt, heal, inspire, and live for.

I will not stop and be bogged down in the mire of religions.  I will seek my own truths, my own beliefs.

"Speaking words of wisdom, let it be."

According to the Bible I am already damned, for I have broken all ten commandments (I'll let you ponder that one if you wish).

I will not say ten Hail Mary's to make my way out of Hell.  But I will say as many Hail Mary's as I need to get me through a panic attack when one occurs.

I took  a test on facebook that revealed I am headed to the 7th level of Dante's Hell.  Another test revealed I am going to die by being crushed by a Sumo Wrestler.

If ever I am asked again what my religion is I will simply reply, "The same as my blood type, Be Positive"

Catch You When You Fall

Is it better to be taken care of emotionally or financially?


  If you were to ask my mother she would say it was a no brainer, financial support is more important.  This could be because she was fortunate enough to be taken care of financially for most of her life.  Only in the latter half of her life did she find the emotional support that she lacked from my own Father.  To no fault of his own his simply did not know how to give to a woman what she would need when it came to matters of the heart.

My mother married young and did not know that it was okay to ask for what she needed.  She may not have even known what she needed at the time.


Most women today are taught to be self sufficient, and not rely on anyone for any kind of support, emotional and otherwise.  We are told we are strong.  We are told. "no one is coming."   


There is no prince in shining armor on a white horse ready to snap us up out of poverty or poor relationships choices, or even worse there is no castle on the hill.


Some women I know would say that it is more important to be financially set.  In fact I have one friend who says that she believes that women should be able to emotionally support themselves, but it is the financial that allows for freedom.


I couldt disagree more.  Without having someone to catch you when you fall you , yes you land hard, and yes you will get back up again. However what is so wrong with wanting the comfort of landing in someone's arms?  To have that person or be that person is allowing yourself to be vulnerable.

Vulnerability is more freeing than any full bank account.

 I see pluses to both sides of the equation, which is really a miracle since I suck at math.  


I have another friend who is half my age and possibly the most jaded woman on the planet.  She is very career driven, and although I admire that (obviously an area I lack) I can not help but wonder what life experiences she will miss out on.  Will she ever know the depths of love and overwhelming experience of being loved?


Is any realationship scary?  Duh.  


Is my relationship with my children better when we have money?  I don't know that I can say that for fact.  It may be less stressful to a degree, but I would not say it is any better.  My love, my support, my heart and all my emotions is what I have to offer them the most.  


Balance as always is the key to any success.  Be it emotional or financial.


Yes women should be able to take care of themselves in both categories.  Yes women should be able to ask for what they need from the people in their lives, even if it is just to listen and be witness to their pain.


When my score sheet is tallied up I hope that it is the emotional support I have given to my family and friends that outweighs any financial help I may have bestowed along the line.

School Bell

There are many different ways to count a year.  For me I always look at a year as a school year, not a January to January year.

School years have dictated my life since I first entered one wearing purple tights, and purple dress and had that momentous year shoved a purple crayon up my nose.  I had to have it removed by a doctor.  

Happy to pass along each school year to the next as I look back some fade into others, and some teachers names have long been forgotten while others remain glued like paste from a bottle into my grey matter.

Just when I reached that pinnacle of never having to deal with school again, I went ahead and procreated, multiple times.  I was not thinking of the years ahead of me that would be filled with school issues again, only from another side.

This year my youngest will be leaving her elementary school.  For her it marks a goodbye to friends, as they all spread apart to different middle schools, and then high schools.  For her it means starting a new stage, (and not my favorite; middle school)

Where I grew up we all moved en masse to the next phase, the next school, the next building half a block and worlds away from the last school.  Unless you moved out of our town, you went along for the ride with the same people.

The summer before I started middle school my father died.  

My youngest lost her father before middle school began.

This year when she leaves, I will also be leaving.  I have been stuck in elementary school for sixteen consecutive years.  The same school, the same drive which I could do in my sleep and probably have.

I started sixteen years ago with uber enthusiasm.  Volunteering for everything.  Class Mom for each child.  Arranging play dates and dutifully asking the parent I just met if they had any guns in the house.

Now I barely know the parents of My baby's friends.  I am relaxed, I am tired.  She gets the unfortunate lackadaisical parenting that the youngest child often gets.  It has even become a joke between us that if one of her friends parents wants to meet me I ask, "Is she first born?"

Over the last sixteen years I have watched teachers get married, have children, get divorced, quit, programs change, programs remain so much the same that I could play each part easily.  I have had more Thanksgiving dinners in the small cafeteria than I can count, as many years I had to stay for more than one.

I have had my children's  backs when they needed it, and could walk into an ARD meeting fully prepared to get what my child needed in their education.

I imagine the full effect of me leaving this school will not hit until next year when I get up and do not drive there anymore.  When I no longer know the main office phone number by heart,when I do not have to buy a recorder at target the night before it is due, when I am not as concerned with lice.

I also have a child who will be starting her last year of high school next year.  Her senior year.  

These moments belong to them.  They are the true holders of these events.  

I am witness, driver, supporter, mother.  

I have finally graduated from elementary school for the last and final time.

Two Stepping

I am going to do something that has in the past gone against my nature.  In fact it is something I held to be such a firm belief NOT to do that I have often times preached about it.

I am going to make amends.

I do not drink, or do drugs and have not since I was 19 and quit it all.  Okay yes I have the occasional Xanax and I have been on and off antidepressants since Eric died.

People who have gone through the official 12 step process get to a step that I dislike.  Step 8.

Make a list of all persons we have harmed, and become willing to make amends to them all.


This step has been thrown back in my face by people who "harmed" me in some way and I have recieved emails,  phone calls or even hand written letters asking for forgiveness.  Almost every single person who has done this to me I either forgot about, or had no idea they had wronged me in anyway and now after the fact I get upset and must forgive something I never knew happened at the time.  I believed it was better to make peace with yourself and move on rather than inflicting an unknown wound.


As it turns out, I am wrong.  


I am wrong.


Those words have been circling in my head for weeks, if not months.


I like to think that I am a good person, and I mean no one any harm.  When in fact I am not a very good person.  I make mistakes.  Most of my mistakes are not intentional, but yes I am guilty of being cruel, selfish, egotistical, and a liar.


There is an irony that lies within all this.  Whenever I feel I am on the "right track" and feel my life to be getting in order is usually when something happens.  I have to wonder if it is not some soft of self sabotage.  Perhaps it is.  


Do I deep down feel I do not deserve the great job that I lost just today?  Do I feel I am not worthy of friendships I have destroyed with harsh and uncalled for actions?


Do I feel I do not deserve to love or be loved ever again?


I don't know.  Maybe.  But that is not the point here.  That, again is acting selfishly and thinking only of myself.


I thought of writing a book of confessions. The entire history of all my wrong doings, without explanation to them, without "my side of the story" included.

I would be honest and open, and truthful.  I would also be vilified.


Without further ado, I will attempt to make a few amends here.  (no names will be mentioned, and no identity clearly identifiable, you will know who you are).


To this person I want to say I am sorry I was a coward and did not return your love in the way it should have been returned.  I should have not taken any moment with you for granted as I did.  I will make no excuse of our age, it is a harm that carried into our future and I feel taints what we could have today.  I was wrong.  


To this person I want to say it was not your fault that my heart was broken by you.  I allowed it. 


To this person I want to say to this day I will never touch a can of spray paint and not think of the pain I caused you.  I was so wrong.


To this person I want to say I am sorry I pushed you off the bed and caused a black eye by doing so.  My tears and kisses then have not made up for it, and maybe a lifetime wont either.


To this person I want to say I still think you are a total dick head and deserve every bad thing that has happened to you in your life.


(oops, I got off track, but in being honest that is still how I feel about that person)


To these people I want to say I am sorry I betrayed your trust in exchange for gossip.


To this person I want to say I still do not forgive myself for the things I said about you and you overheard.


To this person I want to say you did nothing wrong.  I was selfish, I wanted more.  I was greedy.  It was all me.


To this person I want to say I am sorry I stole from you.  This is my biggest regret in my life, and I will not get over it even when you have been fully repaid.


To all people I want to say I am sorry I am not who you think I am.  I lie.  


To all people I want to say I am sorry I do not, and have not, lived up to what you all thought I was or could be.


I lay prostrate before you all, and I do not ask for forgiveness.  I simply want to apologize without any need for acknowledgment or justification.


I can only hope to learn and become the person other people have thought I was.

Will You Go To Prom WIth Me?

Prom season has arrived.  For the last few Saturdays at work the salon has been filled with anxious giggling girls as they prepare for their big night.

I have had more than my share of young ladies in my chair fussing about their hair, make up, shoes, nail polish.

All this prom fever going around has had me thinking of my own prom.

Since I grew up in such a small town, I must confess that I have been to at least 7 proms that I can think of off the top of my head.  We had Senior proms, Jr Proms, Sadie Hawkens, and I am sure a homecoming or two.

I also went to proms with people from other schools.

With all those proms, you would think I would have a myriad of tales to tell.  I have in my trunk a box of dried up corsages (why I keep them I have no idea, since non of them are marked who they are from).

I have a few napkins stating which prom I was at, and I believe even a few match books, which tells you how long ago the proms I attended were.

I am not sure I was ever directly asked to prom by my date.  I think more often than not it was the date's friend that would corner me near my locker and say, "Hey, so and so wants you to go to prom...so yes?" I would say yes to the messenger and send him off on his way to relay the response.

I can recall prom dress shopping.  I can recall getting ready for the various proms.

Most proms we were driven in a limousine that was hired for the evening.  Some proms I was driven in my date's car.

One prom I ended up in the bathroom crying because my date was such an ass.  I later actually dated him for almost a year.

One prom I went to with my best friend's boyfriend as she was out of town and he and I ended up making out.

One prom I wore a tuxedo as it was my best friend's senior prom and she had asked me.

When I was even younger I remember my eldest brother's prom.  He had a pre-prom party at out house and I milled about fascinated with all the pretty girls that looked like Marcia Brady and all the boys in pastel tuxedos with ruffled collars.  They looked so glamorous.  My brother's date wore sparkly blue eye shadow to match her pale blue dress, which of course matched my brother ruffles.

We bought shoes that could be dyed to match our dresses.

In New Jersey you did one of two things after a prom.  Most people went down the shore for the night or weekend.  I usually chose to go into the city (New York).

One of my dates and I went down the shore as he had a house there.  Although we were supposed to be friends, I peeked inside his travel bag and saw roughly 100 condoms.  I was not at that time well versed in sex but I was pretty sure that 100 condoms was excessive.  I frantically called a friend to come and retrieve me.

The dress, the hair, the drama, the shoes, the accessories, the after prom events.  What I do not actually recall is any of the time spent AT the proms.  Not my own senior prom or any other ones.

In tenth grade I took a 25 year old man to the prom.  Today he would be arrested.  Back then my mother took pictures of us.

My senior prom I also took a 25 year old man who I was not even dating, but he had a rather large crush on me.  He went to college in nashville and was a friend of a friend.  He made me a painting, and cleaned my room.  Both acts although sweet I found invasive.

While girl after girl sits in my chair and stresses over every single piece of hair I am caught up in her infectious attitude toward prom.  A few of the girls can be pickier than any bridzilla.

I had one client who I had never met before that was being a particular Diva and I so wanted to lean over and whisper in her ear, "Look, none of this really matters, in a few hours your dress will be ripped, you will have made out with some pimply faced asshole who isnt even your date and you will be on the floor puking in a toilet."

But why give away the hopes of slow dances and romances she will most likely forget.

I even have a picture of my mother in her prom dress.  A strapless chiffon floor length tiered dress that made her look like a princess.  Ask my mother about her prom and she will say, "My mother made my dress and I hated it, I wanted a store bought one like everyone else."  So much for nostalgia.

I am sure I danced to Freebird, and In the Air Tonight.  Possibly even Footloose.  I am sure I took my dyed shoes off at some point.

I am sure I had fun.  I just do not remember it.

If the girls who grace my chair are going to be like me in anyway, they will not recall much, but they will recall their getting their hair done, and the pre prom pictures, and the dress.  So I will ooh and ahh over every sparkly detail of their dress as they pull up photos on their smart phones.

I can't help but catch their prom fever.

I have no idea who my eldest daughter went to her senior prom with but I can tell you exactly what she looked like, and I took a million photos.  My next daughter had to be coaxed into going to her prom which eventually she did with a friend of hers.  Again photos were taken,

Next year when my next daughter goes I will fuss with her over dress, shoes, hair, makeup.  I have not given a moment thought to who her date may be.

Spring time and proms, both sweet, sappy and have a slight smell of lavender.

I may not remember much about all the actual proms I attended, and it may be because of the alcohol, or pot, or yes once even acid.  But I knew enough at the time to take pictures, and keep memorabilia, just in case some day I chose to wake up early with proms on my mind and write about them.

Oh glorious day!
Chilly, dark and teasing me of possible rain.
In Texas and in May these combinations are so rare that I sit with my doors open wearing a sweatshirt just to make sure I do not miss a single cold breeze.

I took a friend to the lake yesterday and we sat on the dock.  Me with my bare feet in the water.  People all around us were in good spirits.

The temperature started to drop and I refused to budge.  My friend was getting cold, and selfishly I wanted to stay and linger as long as I could.  Just enjoying the moment.

We ended up going for a drive to a part of the city I have never been.  We went down long roads with low river markers, and fields.  Streets covered in a canopy of trees.  I could have stopped every fifteen feet and gotten out to take pictures.

As it was I only stopped the car once.  A small farm, gated and barbed wired.  A small slightly run down barn exhibited a horse poking his head out in curiosity of me, as I was curious of him.  For a moment I stood and took pictures.  For a moment I stood and imagined a life there.

For a moment I was living in the small house atop the hill.  A house I imagine had a clawfoot tub. and a kitchen table of formica.

I dream so often (in waking life) of this kind of living.  That kind of house.  I want no mansion.  I want no lawn service.  I am not in need of granite counters, or marble floors.

The ironic thing about the kind of house and life I long to live is that it requires work.  I can be one of the most unmotivated people in the world when it comes to work, employment and otherwise.  I have no desire to tend a garden, or feed hens.  I barely keep catfood in my house as is.  The dogs only get fed because they are also lazy and wont go kill something.

My laundry piles up to heights that are comparable to Mt. Everest.  I lift my eyes right now away from the computer screen and dishes fill the sink...both sides.

I have dust bunnies under my bed that I would rather anthropomorphize and give them names than suck them up in my ridiculously expensive vacuum cleaner.

Why then would I envision peace in a house that required work?

Is is the same thinking as "If I buy that Suzanne Sommers thigh thinner I will be motivated to shed myself of this weight"?

I am guilty of sloth.  A deadly sin.

When I die will I be ousted for poor housekeeping?

The only time I enjoy laundry is when I hang it on a line after it has been washed.  Perhaps I should take all my dishes and bring them to the lake where I sat so peacefully yesterday.

Would feeding hens be more satisfying than pouring out Purina?

These questions may never be answered, and my dishes may never be done.  I am thankful for the daughters I have that take it upon themselves to clean.

My day off.  I sit, in a sweatshit, by an open door, enjoying the breeze and closing my eyes to the mundane duties that lay before me.

Yes, I think I would prefer to be writing about feeding hens.