An (Extra) Ordinary Wednesday

I thought today’hts Mass was going to be a typical, ordinary Wednesday Mass.

I was surprised and when it began it was clear that it was going to be anything but ordinary.

There is a routine to each daily Mass. Everything follows along its familiar path, although each day brings with it a new reading, a new Gospel, and a new chance to experience a reenactment of the Resurrection through the Eucharist. (Note: I don’t participate in this yet, but I will after my baptism.) It doesn’t exactly run by clockwork, but there is a sameness that is the ritual of the Mass. However, that sameness doesn’t diminish from the traditions and the priest’s interpretations. I will often find guidance and solace as many of my morning’s questions are answered through those readings and interpretations.

Usually my mind is full, but calm as I wait to see which readings are prepared in the Missal and how much they will relate to my life.

For anyone not familiar with Catholic Mass, it begins with the Sign of the Cross, penance for our sins, opening prayer and then the readings and Gospel followed by the Homily and the Eucharist and a closing prayer and dismissal blessing.

The words change daily, the sins change, it’s all different and yet it is that sameness that we find comfortable and comforting.

Most days after the sign of the cross, there is a kind of preview. We’re told who the dead are that we are remembering at this Mass, if there are any crosses to be returned to families (on the anniversary of a family member’s death), any special visitors or what I like to call housekeeping (if there are schedule changes, an occasional weather report, etc.)

I try to fill my mind with what I’m looking for in the Mass, what I need for that day, and about whom I’ll be praying for. We pray as a community. The priest lists who we’re praying for and we ask G-d to hear our prayer. For me, I add my own, not always silently, but quietly: for the religious community, I add L, A, and F. For the sick, I think of who is ill in my life and whisper their names. For the dead, I’ve been adding my church friend, and I always add Brittany. I don’t know when I began to add Brittany, it’s been a long time, but I think of her every day when I pray. For the military, I add C and M. Sometimes, I’ll include C’s wife and family depending on if I think they need extra prayers. During the silence of our hearts, where we pray individually, I always include A and add anyone else who seems to be going through a rough time.

This morning before we thought on our own sins and ask for G-d’s forgiveness, Father J said that we had two special men in our midst and they would receive a special blessing today. They were Sal F and Tom S and they were two of the three local people who were Marines, members of the battalion that took Iwo Jima sixty-nine years ago today.

In looking around, we found them easily enough. They appeared older than anyone else at our Mass, and that’s saying something since at forty-seven, I’m one of the youngest people there. Both were bent over, unsteady on their feet, slow, even with the help of canes, and one of the men was wearing his red Marines baseball cap. From the back, he looked a bit like Winston Churchill.

When it was time for the special blessing, we all extended our hands to be part of the blessing over them. It was moving. And when it was over, as they walked back to their seats, we all stood up and applauded.

They were swamped by parishioners when Mass was over, everyone wanting to shake their hands and say hello. One person even took a photo.

I thought I’d want to say hello, but I felt funny approaching them. I went to my car, and when I saw that they were late in leaving, I decided to go over to where they were parked. This was a big deal for me; very much out of character. I never know what to say to people, but the more I thought about it, the more I steeled myself to ignore my anxiety and do it. If I hadn’t, I would have regretted it.

I waited and when they arrived at their cars, I got out of mine, and walked over to them. It had begun to snow a little harder and we were getting pelted with a wet hard rain-like snow.

I introduced myself and put out my hand to shake theirs. I said I wanted to say hello and thank them for everything they had done. Sal, who was closest to me, asked for a hug. We hugged tightly, and he thanked me and said G-d Bless you, and then I repeated it with Tom, who also wanted to hug me.

It was one of the most moving moments I think I’ve ever experienced. I would have continued to stand there even in the snow if that was what they wanted.

They both wanted to thank me. I remember Tom’s words: “Thank you so much, dear. It was a long time ago. Thank you.”

Thank me?!

I hadn’t done anything; certainly nothing to warrant a thank you from two Marines.

It’s amazing how things happen in our lives with people we meet and how they affect our lives. People we might not have ever met if not for those circumstances. A crazy, random circumstance often initiated by someone else and it seems insignificant to us; until it’s not.

I’ve since had the opportunity to read about them. As it turned out, they were both on the cover of Our Hometowne, a local penny-saver newspaper, which was sitting on my side table. I saw it when it came, but didn’t pay it much mind, and then remembered it this afternoon.

When they enlisted, Sal was 18 and Tom was 20. They were not lifelong friends. They were part of two separate battalions that were joined at Saipan. They served together, but I don’t know if they had ever met on the island. Sal was wounded and according to the accompanying story, he was rescued by a tank driving over him and opening a trap door to pull him in. The trap door was coincidentally repaired by Tom. They both survived, received Purple Hearts among other decorations, and eventually met in the local Walmart years and years later.

Once again, my visit to Mass has given me more than I could have expected when I set out this morning.

Info on the Memorial: http://wwiimemorial.com/

Space Challenges and Challenger

Earlier this week, I began reading Moon Shot. It is the story of the space program leading up to the Moon landings, written by Astronauts Alan Shepard and Deke Slayton with NBC Journalist Jay Barbree. It is an insightful memoir that blends their personal feelings and how it all looked from their perspective. They also include prominent moments from the Soviet’s side of the space race. One of the things I love about these kinds of history books is the feeling of right now. I know what happened in most of these missions – the fire that killed three astronauts aboard the Apollo 1 launch pad, the Apollo 11 Moon Landing, the Apollo 13 almost disaster that showed the mettle of NASA and its team, but I still feel that edge of my seat, suspense, will they or won’t they and that is probably the finest thing history book can do. And it’s my own history; my timeline as it were.

I was born in 1966, right in the heart of America’s space exploration. There is a family story, in fact that describes my watching the first Moon landing of July 20, 1969. I was 2 1/2 and a very confused toddler. My father’s brothers are Uncle Neil and Uncle Buzzy and I wondered how they had gotten to the Moon when I heard that Neil and Buzz were the astronauts’ names. We just saw them!

I have long been a fan of space. From Star Trek and Lost in Space to Babylon 5 and Doctor Who. AS a child we visited Cape Canaveral, although I think y then it was the Kennedy Space Center. I remember wandering in the sunshine and pressing many simulator buttons. Somewhere in my house today is a moldy Astronaut shaped pillow that I refuse to part with. Any hints on getting rid of mold from fabric, feel free to message me.

As a teacher, we would walk our toddlers over to the Cradle of Aviation – a tiny museum that was housed in a hangar that had lunar capsules and cockpits.at the neighboring community college. Mitchel Field and Roosevelt Field used to be real fields and that is where Charles Lindbergh took off from in his Spirit of St. Louis. There is still a museum there, relatively new, bright with an IMAX theatre but there is also a shopping mall, showing the duality of history and “progress.”

I can always find Orion in the night sky and I’ve braved frigid temperatures to witness Lunar Eclipses and Perseid meteor showers.

Today is the twenty-eighth anniversary of the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster, which exploded 73 seconds into their flight, killing all seven crew members on board including the first teacher in space.

I was in college. 8am class, which I hated. Earth Science, I think it was. I recall people talking but I couldn’t quite piece the news together, only that there was news. This was before a cell phone in every pocket and a laptop in every lecture hall. I rushed back to my dorm where I had a black and white television set. We only got one station – ABC and there on the screen was tried and true Peter Jennings showing video from earlier and describing what happened in the opening seconds of the Challenger mission while I was falling asleep in class. It was quite a jolt. I had been following their mission, which included Christa McAuliffe, a New Hampshire teacher.

The liftoff was being shown live in countless schools across America, if not the world, for that very reason. I was studying to be a teacher as was my roommate. It was like we had a colleague on board.

We’ve slowed down a bit on our manned flights. A mistake in my opinion. We’ve landed rovers on Mars and seen farther than we’ve ever been able to before. It’s amazing to think about what’s still out there.

My First Church Friend

Last Wednesday was a beautiful day. There was a bright blue sky with just enough fluffy white clouds, the sun shining like spring and very warm for January. I walked into the church and for that one second, it was a typical Wednesday Mass at Nine AM.

Except it wasn’t.

The usher said, ‘good morning,’ and handed me the program: Celebration of Christian Burial. I’d been to many of these in the last year or so from attending the regular morning masses, but this one was different. On this one, I saw my friend’s name and with a long breath I took one step from the hum of the gathering space into the solemnity of the church itself and stopped short.

There, in Shirley’s seat was her red scarf and red wool hat. I’d seen her wear it at least a dozen times in the time I’ve known her and it took a moment to realize that it wasn’t her sitting in her usual seat. Someone had set up the display on a table and with the scarf and hat they included a rose and a rosary and adjacent to it was a floor candle just in front of ‘her’ pew.

I was quickly admonished for not doing so immediately, but I was expected to sit in my usual seat, which happened to be directly behind hers. The last thing I wanted was the first thing I felt at the start of my church visits: people watching me. I wasn’t family, but at the daily 9am Mass, Shirley and I always sat together and walked out together with two other women and I uncomfortably felt as though we were being watched.

‘My’ seat had been there since Easter 2012 when I began to attend the daily Mass. I either sat immediately behind Shirley or two seats behind her, depending on who got there first. Eventually, the other two ladies who alternated with me for that seat joined me in the one pew.

It was kind of funny. No one in the Mass really knew me, but they all knew that I was part of this foursome, an odd group if ever there was one.

I picked my seat originally because of Shirley.

The first time I entered the church, I did it almost the same way I did last Wednesday: haltingly, unsure, would anyone look at me? Gee, I hoped not. But after so many steps, there is that point of no going back, even for the anxious.

I walked in on that first spring morning, and tried to look around without looking around, and immediately took notice of Shirley’s jacket. It was a black jacket and so the muted multi-colored embroidery of leaves and flowers and stems stood out against the dark wooden pew. She was wearing a pale straw cap, not quite a pill box but not quite a cabby’s cap either. I would find that she always wore a hat, and when she didn’t, she felt that she should have been. If not a hat, then a scarf for over her head. The blue paisley one went with her pale blue raincoat. She was always put together and I envied her scarves and necklaces, gifts from her daughter.

But more than that, she was lovely. Warm and welcoming and really joyful with so much faith that it seemed easy to share and as much faith that I gained on my own, I accepted the faith offered to me by my friends, Lorraine, Arlene and especially Shirley, my first church friend.

I sat behind her that first time, and said nothing.

When she stood, I stood.

When she bowed her head, I bowed my head.

When the priest said, “Peace be with you,” and she reached her hand out to me, I clasped her hand and repeated the words rotely. Her hands were warm and it was that touch, the memory of that light handshake in the morning that got me through the rest of the day.

Every morning she would already be there. I began to recognize her car, parked in the same space in front of the church. I’d walk in, expecting to see her, and was never disappointed. I’d walk slowly down the center aisle, hoping no one would notice me, and slide in behind her, slowly moving more and more to the left so that when she turned her head she might see me.

I watched her lips move quietly, near silent as her fingers worked one bead and then the next as she said the rosary. When she finished, she dropped them gently into a little change purse-shaped pouch, snapped it closed and slipped it into her handbag, almost immediately taking out her glasses to read the Missalette, which would come later in the Mass.

After a time, when she turned to put the rosary away, she would look at me and smile, and say ‘good morning’ to me. I would respond in kind. I never said good morning before that, but church brought out the good morning in me, and each Mass was a good morning. It kept me going when I needed to keep going.

I began to ask Shirley questions about things around the church. Why were some lights in the large cross certain colors while others were not? Why is that cloth red today when it was green yesterday? I don’t remember most of the questions; there were several, and Shirley always answered them. We chatted every day. We walked out together, often all the way to her car and I’d wait until her door was closed and the engine started.

She talked about her family often – her daughter in California, her son in Florida. My family is from Long Island, and she mentioned that her brother also lived there, not far from where I had grown up. I found out that her other daughter was murdered – a victim of domestic violence. When she told me about her, I told her about my friend Brittany who had just been murdered in 2011. The first anniversary was coming up, and was actually part of the reasons I had begun visiting the church in the first place.

She was always happy to see me, and when I missed a day, she hugged me and told me that she missed seeing me. She made a point of turning around, smiling and saying hello. More often than anything else, we talked about the weather and Father Jerry’s humor in the morning, the four of us often laughing quietly and quite possibly rolling our eyes at times.

I’ve always sat behind her. How will I know where to sit now?

Derailed, not Destroyed

Today was the first day in more than a week that I had a normal breakfast and I am still enjoying my tea.

I will be adding people to my tags so they see things (as requested) so don’t think that because someone is tagged that it is some kind of passive aggressive message. It’s not. There’s a lot going on and sometimes I need friends to see things in a sea of dashboard posts. Especially after two very important posts were missed last week by someone I needed to hear from. I will still be cryptic, but cryptic doesn’t equal p-a. If you’re wondering, ask me. I’m the only one who knows why I did something, and that’s not even true all of the time. 😉

We had a really lovely time on Saturday with our family. My uncle turned 70 and it was more than a little wonderful to see him, my aunt and another uncle and of course all of the cousins that we haven’t seen in forever.

The house is quiet, so once this is posted, I’m going to work on tomorrow’s memoir homework before my daughter gets home and begins to badger me to use my computer.

For the most part, I’m in a good place right now. I can feel things poking me in the back of the neck, but if I take a deep breath, glance over at a picture of my friends, pray a little, I’m mostly okay. There is a small group of specific people I pray for at every daily Mass, and sometimes, I wonder if that’s more for me or for them. Of course, I want beautiful things for them, but it gives me such a warm feeling that it is good for me also – to think about those people, to know in my heart who they are and how wonderful they are and how much good they deserve and that I want for them, and sometimes, I even wonder where I’d be without them in my life.

In the church, this is Ordinary Time, but I think this is actually an extraordinary time for me to reflect on how far I’ve come, how far my loved ones have come, and how much I want to do in the next few months. The sick and the friend crisis (both of which are still happening) derailed my resolutions and goals for 2014, but part of the things I’ve learned in the last few years is derail doesn’t mean permanent damage. I don’t need to give up; I need to start again; to continue because life happens and sometimes, we just have to roll with the punches, pick ourselves up, and take that next step.

I love you guys, and I’m here.

My Week in Recap

Last Friday at this time, I had just crawled into bed and except for a brief trip to church stayed there until Tuesday.

Apparently, I had some kind of flu. Honestly, I was happy not to have the chest cold and congestion, but pleasant it was not.

In the meantime, each person in the house contracted some version of the sick, all with different symptoms. Luckily, my husband was well enough to take care of the kids and me.

Gave godparent contact info to my RCIA leader (M). I need to begin saints research, although I have ideas.

My first church friend died. The funeral was Wednesday. I’m sure I will write more about this as I gather my thoughts properly.

The viewing on Tuesday was more triggering than I would have expected.

Lecture on Blessed Pope John Paul II was very good but also triggering. I think they were talking about death and it set off bells for me that I’ve never been able to deal with. That on top of the viewing made for a bad night. I even had to pull the car over and cry. Too much emotion for one night.

The end of the week brought a worrisome phone call, a multi-friend crisis, the beginning of a money crisis, the postponement of my daughter’s birthday party and tomorrow brings a trip out of town that hopefully will be much better than the rest of this as we see many of our family.

I also got a wedding invitation today for a wedding that took place on the 2nd. I already knew the date and the bride & groom knew I couldn’t come but they sent this out on Dec. 30th; I’m truly surprised it took so long!

Pain Brings the Snow

Or is it snow that brings the pain?

I had the most severe back pain last night. I could barely move. In fact, I had to take two Tylenol just to get to sleep for a couple of hours.

I haven’t had pain like that since I was pregnant with my second child.

Actually, I don’t typically get back pain. Oh yes, the little spasms here and there from overdoing something or falling asleep in the chair at the wrong angle. I refuse to ascribe anything to “at my age” and even when I’m 80, that phrase will still be more appropriate for someone twenty years older than I am at that moment.

After all, I’ve been told that the reason I had hearing loss was age.

I was 23. (It wasn’t how long I’d been on the Earth; it was how long I was in front of the speakers at a Stray Cats concert in high school. My ears still ring.)

I’ve been really good about no soda for breakfast, however… No tea this morning. It won’t make me feel better. Tea is comfort, and soothing and quiet and calm. I have an appointment I can’t cancel and it’s snowing. I don’t need calm; I need courage.

Tomorrow it’s going to be so warm there’s a chance of flash flooding. Today it’s snowing. Light and fluffy, but I think that’s just to lull you into a false sense of security until the drifts swallow you up.

RCIA (Mary-Mother of G-d), possible phone call depending on schedules, editing, Sherlock: The Reichenbach Fall, plan visit to uncle, plan daughter’s bday party. $5 pizza for dinner.

2013 in Review – 2014 in Preview

2013 Year in Review

Most years are a mix of good and bad and 2013 was no exception.

I didn’t accomplish all of my goals, and while that was my lack of focus there were also extenuating circumstances. For the most part, my depression and anxiety were under control and when they weren’t I usually had the presence of mind to remove myself from the situation or recognize enough to grab my phone and sort it out with my friends.

Our biggest ‘bad’ was in June; my mother in law was hit by a car. We weren’t sure she was going to make it, but she made remarkable progress and was released from the hospital the week before Thanksgiving.

During our visit in the summer, I was triggered by the nursing/rehab facility. It was very unexpected for me. Things bother me but never to the extent of triggering in this way. Because of the circumstances I couldn’t talk to my husband about what was going on with my reactions, but I was very lucky that I had friends visiting NYC (which is close to my MIL’s town) and I was able to take a quick (ish) train ride into Manhattan and spend about twelve hours with people who were able to distract me enough and talk enough and hug enough to put the trigger reactions aside for the rest of our visit.

We also put our finances in the ‘bad’ column, but I won’t get into details of that here. That is one of the subjects that I will be talking about in January as part of my writing.

Speaking of writing, I actually did quite a bit of it in 2013. I didn’t expect to take any trips and planned out physical retreats as well as online retreats. I didn’t do as well as I would have liked, but that just gives me something to work on in 2014. It wasn’t disappointing enough to knock me down and discourage me, but it wasn’t good enough and that might be enough of a motivating factor.

I made two writing retreats for myself. I’d put the kids on the bus, go to Mass, and then disappear until 3:30 or so. I also included an online retreat from Days of Deepening Friendship, a website that includes writing and faith. In December they had an Advent Retreat. I didn’t do as much for this as I would have liked, but I did follow the Thursday topics and made lists rather than write prose.

December winded up being so busy that I wrote 0 words, but more than made up for that in November.

I started keeping track in May, and for 2013, I had a total word count of 171,920. The topics I wrote about included: Fandom – Harry Potter, Daydverse, Supernatural, the actors, some Fan Fic, two Memoir workshops, Money, religious/spiritual, travel, random prompts, tea, politics, mental health as well as writing a lot about the summer of Misha – GISHWHES, Random Acts and Endure4Kindness (an eleven hour writing marathon for charity).

Not including December which I’ve said was 0 words, my lowest month was October (2397) and my largest month was November (16, 777).

I’ve talked a lot about attending Catholic Mass, and that continued throughout 2013. I enjoyed (and still do) attending Mass and seeing how the readings helped and spoke to my daily life. I am still sometimes amazed that something written so long ago and the passages chosen by someone a couple of years ago to be read are still so relevant to specific things in my life.

I have been attending the RCIA (Rite of Catholic Initiation for Adults) to receive my sacraments at Easter and become a member of the Catholic Church. I’m excited by this and I really like learning the history and the rituals. What I’ve found most interesting is that everything I’m hearing and learning validates things I’ve always thought about the spiritual world my whole life. It tells me that this is the path I’m supposed to be on because it’s always been in my head; I just didn’t know what it meant.

Fandom events included the season finale (season 8) and the season premiere (season 9) of Supernatural, the 50th Anniversary Special of Doctor Who as well as the Christmas special with the regeneration and introduction to new Doctor, Peter Capaldi. (Really looking forward to Easter!)

I took two trips to Virginia (one by train which I’d love to repeat), thanks to my best friend and met some really awesome people who will be in my life forever.

As family, we took two trips to visit our family (in the summer and Thanksgiving) and my sister-in-law came to see us for a couple of hours during the Christmas holiday.

As I said, it was the summer of Misha (Collins) – GISHWHES, Random Actopolypse, then Endure4Kindness in November. I have grown very fond of Random Acts as a charitable organization, and all of my ‘extra’ change either went to them or to my church.

I anticipate repeating much of these activities in the next year, especially the new traditions of writing retreats and Random Acts activities.

And now, for 2014! What will my focus be on in 2014? How will I be motivated for the next year?

You may have seen some of this in my daily 365 posts, so I do apologize for anything that’s redundant.

In 2013, I had three New Years and I’ve just begun this one. Half of you just went, Three?!

Jan. 1, 2013
Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year
Advent, Dec. 1, 2013 – the start of the Liturgical Calendar

I’ve always made my resolutions for Rosh Hashanah. There is a built in assessment at the end of December, and then I can reassess and add or subtract goals based on what’s been working and what else I want to try out.

The only thing that seemed to work this year, though, was November. Random Acts’ E4K (Endure 4 Kindness) set me up to succeed and my writing workshops reinforced it, but before and after I kind of floundered.

I’m hoping to do better this year (and I think I’m off to a pretty good start). If we’ve nothing to strive for, what is even the point? No one is perfect, least of all me, there is always one more goal to meet, one more goal to set as long as the world goes round and round.

One of the central themes of my life this past year has been Mental Health issues. I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety in 2012 and it took nearly all of that year to get the medicine right and become more in recovery and less floundering like a fish on the dock. 2013 was a better year for paying attention to relapses, to successes, to triggers and to coping and I did a lot of talking about it. I found that I could give advice when asked and I could even take some, so that will be one of my writing subjects for 2014.

The second will be Religion and Spirituality and how mind has evolved and changed, how it’s helped me and given me new insights, not only to myself, but to foreign things I thought as a child and young adult that now make more sense with this new context.
Third, finances. Advice, bankruptcy, home buying, not sure where this will go. I’ve tried to write about the disaster that is our home buying experience at least a dozen times, but every time I do, I break down in tears. Maybe this is the year I get through it, at least a first draft of it.

Of course, I’ll throw in parenting and fandom and travel because at heart I’m a babbler, so let’s see where 2014 will bring will bring us and my writing.

Happy New Year.

Self-Reassurance. Maybe.

I’ve spent most of today off of the computer. Even if I’m writing, I’d still stop and check tumblr and Facebook.

Still cleaning up papers, making plans in my notebook. I even set up an accountability log – never doing this is always so discouraging when I want to check how I’ve been doing.

I’m still upbeat even though worried about friends. I know they’re doing well and they know how to find me if they need me (not p-a at all – more in line with reassuring myself that I’m valued and silence doesn’t mean rejection – now if I can only remember this when I’m not upbeat.)

I finished series 1 of Sherlock. Really enjoyed it. I’ll start series 2 tomorrow as a reward if I do the 2 writing assignments I’ve given myself.

Tonight is watching Green Lantern with the family and getting back to my book.

Sherlock and Stewardesses

I’m looking at yesterday’s 365 post and I’m postponing the dusting. This morning’s chores took longer than I thought they would. First, it’s freezing. Unbelievably freezing. I went to Mass, got the few pics printed at CVS for my journal, got some groceries and cupcakes to deliver to my daughter at school, then home for breakfast. How exciting, right?

Looking at my list, and I’m thinking it’s a good thing I put a to-do list in that post so I have a road map. I’m not feeling particularly motivated other than motivated to keep reading The Jet Sex.

But that is my reward once I get through my list.

Jar done. *high five*

Time to shut down the computer and work on my green notebook. (Yeah, sorry, this post seems to be a blow-by-blow and I’ll hit post at the end for #7).

So I feel asleep – um….intentionally took a nap.

Actually, I watched A Study in Pink – first time. I could feel myself grinning at Sherlock and John’s chemistry. I really liked it. At least, I’ll be able to catch up easy enough. Second episode tomorrow when the kids go to school.

I’ve organized the green notebook. There are ten sections: Notes, Content Calendar, Ongoing Business, (a section for an event I’m part of), Fandom, Depression – Mental Health, Spirituality – Faith &
Religion, House – Buying & Maintenance (the experience and pitfalls, not the daily journaling about my household crap), and Money, Matters (mostly my personal money issues).

My next big original post will be about my financial difficulties. I know our situation is not unique, and sometimes we can help each other (not just in a monetary way). We do have a Go Fund page, and for anyone who’s followed our specific problems, I will have an update and a link.

I will also post my first piece of writing from my Endure 4 Kindness back in November. I didn’t get any pledges (hopefully, this will improve for next year’s event), but I pledged myself a single donation for the day ($15). The donations benefit the Random Acts organization. I have mentioned them before and I will link them in a future post. They are very worthy of your time and your money. There is no amount too small. Every little bit helps.

Currently, we are making dinner and I’ll be typing up the quick short things that I wrote during Advent.

After that, I will take some time with my new journal and then more of Vicki Vantoch’s book. She has a wonderful writing style; I’m sure that I will be sharing more about this book as I read it. When I read her dissertation, it brought back my own memories of wanting to be a stewardess once I realized that I couldn’t be a pilot. I was an enormous fan of Amelia Earhart’s and flying was a new thing. I remember a trip I took with my Dad to Toronto. I can picture my little white jacket and a patent leather white purse with one of those change purse clasp things to close it. I’m pretty sure that the hat I’m picturing on my messy head is a projection of the times; I don’t believe I ever had a fancy travel hat.

Whenever I’m asked what I wanted to be growing up, I could never remember. My parents worked for the post office and that was something I used to think about as well as for the police department in some capacity or a private eye like Jim Rockford, but somewhere in my latent memories was being a stewardess and flying. Today I am more afraid to fly than not, but I wasn’t afraid as a child. I was enthralled by the glamour that followed that job around. I can picture a blue dress and a matching nurse’s style cap, a small, triangular purse. I had wings from that first trip, which are since lost and we had a blue tote bag with a shoulder strap that said Pan Am on the side. It had two large pockets and zippers and since then (and probably before) I have a fondness for all kinds of bags, wallets, purses, and travel things.

But I digress.

Claimed by the Corner Office

I immersed myself in Supernatural on Netflix while I did the one chore claimed by today – cleaning my office. I would call it success. I filed all the papers (except church papers and kids’ drawings). I have 2 magazines that need to be shelved. I forgot to put my 2014 jar back (but I will do that tomorrow after I drop off birthday cupcakes at school).

I’m very happy with my space.

Tomorrow I’m going to take everything off the mantle and dust and then replace and rearrange a bit. I may share some pictures.

I used my Amazon gift card today to buy Vicki Vantoch’s book, The Jet Sex and once this posts I will begin reading it. *excited*

Tomorrow is filing the slips of paper from the 2013 jar and properly setting it up for 2014. I will begin writing in my new journal. I will print 2 pictures of my closest friends&family to keep in it. I will set up my green notebook, which is catch-all for all my brain’s ideas. I will start deciding on my resolutions/goals for this year.

Lots of questions for next week’s RCIA class. Today I read the handout on the rite of election and now my stomach is in knots. Next week, I also have a memoir workshop. The prompt is basically do whatever you want. Sometimes that freedom is worse.

First official day after the holidays. I feel pretty good.

Griffins and Ginger Snaps

-I write, and I have a blog because of course I do-

GGS