Could We, Should We?

Could we jump 10,000 feet into a bucket of ice cold water? Sure, if we wanted to.
Should we jump 10,000 feet into a bucket of ice cold water? Hell no.

Could we eat a raw tarantula? I suppose so.
Should we eat a raw tarantula? Ewwww....NO.

Could we jump off the Empire State Building? Sure
Should we jump off the Empire State Building? No.

Could we set ourselves on fire? Yes
Should we set ourselves on fire? No....ouch.

Could we sleep with our sister in law? Yes
Should we sleep with our sister in law? No.

Could they put a mosque near the WTC site? Yes
Should they put a mosque near the WTC site? No.

It's not about having the right to do anything. We all have rights to do things. We are all free to practice our religion any way we choose to. We are all free to set ourselves on fire, if we are stupid enough to do so. No one is telling Muslims NOT to practice their religion. We're just wondering at the wisdom of putting a place of Muslim worship near the WTC site.

We're not bigots. We want you to be able to practice your religion in peace. Just not there.
There are lots of places they could build. But they chose to build there. It's all about choices.

If Christians, in the name of Christianity, had perpetrated a crime like 9/11 against another religious group....lets say Mormons...then they wanted to build a huge Christian place of worship right near the site of this atrocious event, well, that's just plain insensitive.

It's about being sensitive. It's not about hate. It's about a lack of sensitivity. Some people do hate Muslims, I'm sure. Some people hate Christians and Jews, some people hate hot dogs...it's not about that. It's about sensitivity. There are plenty of places to put this mosque in that area. Why there? Why the insistence? Why the secrecy regarding funds and where they are coming from? Lots of questions, not many answers.

The Constitutional right to practice your religion as you choose exists for all of us. It's not about freedom to practice. That right is not at question here. It's the wisdom of placing a mosque at that particular place that is in question. Go build your mosque somewhere else and no one would care. Practice as you choose....but try to be more sensitive in your choices.

Could you build your mosque near the WTC? Sure. Should you build your mosque near the WTC? No.

We "could" do whatever we want...but "should" we?

Never "Just" a Tree

When is a tree more than a tree? When it's the tree that sustained Anne Frank through her horrible ordeal during the holocaust, that's when it's more than a tree. Personally, I'm a tree hugger. I love trees and plants and (most of) nature. As seen in previous blogs, I could definitely do without bats! However, overall, I'm a lover of nature and I find value in trees, even if there is no historical significance to their existence. I love how they seem to be reaching upward, striving for perfection.

Anne's tree fell on Monday of this week, during a wind and rain storm. The tree was suffering from fungus and rot. I am so glad that someone tried to save it by reinforcing it with steel rods, but the storm proved too much for the tree and it fell over, damaging some neighboring yards. The tree was around 150 years old, and stood as a symbol for all those who sympathized with Anne's suffering. Being locked away for so long with no access to the outside world, this tree could be seen by Anne from her hiding place, and was a beacon of hope for her, a reminder of freedom and what lay beyond the four walls she was confined to. What a noble tree to have stood so long, to have survived beyond what seemed possible. I never saw that tree, never felt the roughness of its bark or touched its leaves, but it meant something to me and I'm sad at its loss.

Most days I sit at a desk, thankfully by a window, and I look outside and see bushes and the tops of trees, and on some super days, the blue skies. It is this ability to see the outside world that keeps me going. The trees and birds and sky remind me there is more out there for me, that my world is huge and waiting for my return. There is hope in a sunny sky. It lifts me when I'm dreary and makes me feel like I'm part of something greater than all this paperwork and telephone calls. The sky isn't just a sky, a tree isn't just a tree. They are symbols of something greater. They remind us of our connection to the Universe, to a God that watches us and remembers us, even when we feel forgotten.

Maybe a tree is NEVER just a tree. Maybe all the trees in all the world that can be viewed from a place where you would rather not be are really just like Anne's tree....a symbol of hope and freedom...a sign that we are all connected to something beautiful.

To Anne's tree I bid farewell...I know it still stands somewhere, somehow, tall and proud as ever. It is timeless and endless, as is Anne's legacy of hope in times of despair. Anne's story did not end well, and is one of the senseless tragedies of recorded history. It was a needless death, a waste, and a shame, as were all the deaths of the Jews at that time, however, her memory stands today as much as ever, just like that tree did for so many years....tall and proud.

Only Human After All

Last week I went on and on about how it can always be worse...at least I didn't see the little bat creature...at least I wasn't in the car when it got hit...I went on and on with my positive thinking speech, when just around the corner, well, my nervous breakdown was lurking.

Wednesday night we had another visitation from one of Satan's minions. Two o'clock in the morning I wake up, look up and see this flying rat soaring around my daughters bedroom. I screamed from UNDER my blanket to my husband who had no idea what he was in for...I woke my daughter up and covered us both up under the blanket and walked toward the door. My husband slammed the door. He figured that he could find the little rat in the morning...well, he was wrong. Knowing it was hiding somewhere in her room sent me into a tailspin. Turns out, it was hiding in between her mattress and box spring. Needless to say, it's a week later and we're STILL NOT SLEEPING IN HER ROOM! The wound is just too fresh.

So, the next night, which was Thursday, we went to sleep at my mother's house because the thought of that rodent was just too much for me. We lay down, we shut off the light...15 minutes later, my phone rings. My husband was taking a shower preparing for work, he heard a noise, looked up and saw ANOTHER BAT flying over head. He slammed it in the bathroom and had to leave for work. Obviously, the ball fell in my court. I called this nice bat man who informed me it would cost $125.00 to come and "remove the bat from the domicile." Good LORD! Well, I had no choice but to pay him. Then we spend the next week waiting for rabies test results. Thankfully, all our bats were healthy, but they are in much more desirable state at this time...DEAD. That's the way I like my bats. DEAD.

Well, to add insult to injury...we called another "bat removal specialist" and he charged $82.00 to come to the house to look around. He tried to look professional as he looked around the outside of the house. He kept saying how steep the roof was. I knew that was a bad sign. Steep roofs always add price to estimates. He checked the basement. No signs of life there. He checked the attic...ahhh...now here's the kicker. "I see some bat turds up there." I reply, "Did you find any BATS?" He replies, "Well, no, but they could be ANYWHERE." I reply, "It's a fairly simple attic. I think you would see where they are sleeping." He replies, "They've GOT to be up there." I reply, "Well, give me an estimate." So, he writes, and thinks and scratches his head, then reiterates how steep the roof is...then hands us an estimate for $2,100.00! EGADS! We ask, "So, what specifically will you be doing for $2,100.00?" He replies, "Well, I won't know till I get up there and look around." I reply, "Isn't that why you came here today and charged us $82.00?" "Well," he replies, "I don't know how many areas we'll have to plug up, how many one way doors we'll have to install. It all depends." Well, we told him we'd get back to him. Yea, right. It's a crime how people try to take advantage of your fears. Ridiculous!

So, I am still sleeping downstairs on the couch, despite the fact that there have been no sightings for a week. I can't bring myself to do it yet. All in good time, I suppose. My biggest worry about this whole thing isn't even really the bats themselves, it is my response to them. I spent most of Friday crying, and it was very hard for me to stop. I was worried about the possibility of rabies shots. I was worried that there would be more to come. I was just scared, immobile...and it felt just like I was falling into darkness. I don't like feeling like that. I'm supposed to be the person who lifts people out of the darkness. I'm supposed to be the one who handles things....well, that's how I perceive myself at least. It bothered me that I could crumble so quickly, so darkly. Are we all just a few bad days away from depression? If I can't handle a few bats in the house, how will I be able to handle a real catastrophe? When the time comes for a real crisis, will I be able to survive it? I want to believe that I could.

Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. I mean, on Saturday morning, I had my last good cry, prayed for strength and a few minutes later I was washing dishes and getting ready to go for coffee. I managed to buck up and have a nice weekend, despite my fears. I pulled myself together, after a fashion. Maybe it's ok to have a mini break down just to get it all out. Maybe a good cry can be helpful, as long as you are able to stop, regroup and carry on. I am always telling people not to be too hard on themselves, well, I suppose the same applies to me.

I am only human after all.

It Can ALWAYS Be Worse

This week hasn't been an easy one. Monday night we had a nocturnal visit from one of Satan's minions....alright, it was just a bat, but hey, it was horrible and I couldn't think of a more dramatic way to describe it. Not that I don't feel bad for my son (it was in his room), but I'm glad I really didn't see the creature for myself. I swear as soon as he woke me up in a panic, I lost every bit of saliva in my mouth and even after I took a sip of water, my tongue was as dry as sandpaper. I was ready to leave him there, grabbing my daughter, clothes for work, makeup, etc., etc., but then realized that his car was blocking me in the driveway and he had left his keys in his room with Nosferatu. We were trapped....more or less. Thankfully we have a friend who lives nearby who isn't afraid of these disgusting creatures. He came equipped with two tennis rackets and lots of nerve. By the time he came, the little critter was hiding in the curtains and when at first he said he didn't see anything, we called bravely from down stairs, "Look all around! I know he's there and I want to see a corpse!" He caught it relatively quickly and he ran down the street, shoeless, clasping these two tennis rackets together, poor Batty trapped in between. If it were up to me, if my husband were home, Batty would be in Batty heaven right now, but he doesn't have a problem satisfying my need for blood. Ken is too kind to hurt anything, so I didn't want to press the issue. At least he was gone from the house, and that's all that mattered to me. It could have been worse, is what I was thinking. Again, at least I didn't see the creature myself. I'm looking for the bright side here. On to Tuesday...

Yesterday, at noon I received a call from a friend. She asked me who hit my car. I said, my car? She said, yes, your car...it's smashed in. Excuse me, I said? Well, I probably used the f word or some other such colorful phrase, but all in all, I didn't really believe it. So, I ran out to the parking lot and saw my poor car, the front end all smashed up. Then I thought...someone did this and LEFT? Wow. I'm screwed. As I stood there thinking how screwed I was, and how horrible this whole thing was, and Good Lord, what else this week???....I heard a voice behind me..."I did it, I did it." I stopped. I didn't move. I composed myself. I mean, whoever was behind me was at least here, they didn't really leave. That's good, right? I turned and looked at this poor guy and I thought, if it were you, you wouldn't want to be yelled at, you wouldn't want to be called names...even if the anger weren't at you directly, you would feel like it was and you would feel like hell, I thought. So all I could think of saying to him was, "It's just a car, it's just a car."

Well, it's true. It is JUST A CAR. It gets me from here to there. It's nice...and expensive, however, it's still JUST A CAR. No one was hurt. No one flew through a windshield...no one was in the hospital. It's just a car. I refuse to lose myself to anger over an automobile. I refuse. Especially since this poor guy looked so scared and worried and upset. He looked more worried than I did, and at that point I figured, why add to his anxiety? I tried to find a lesson for life in that moment. His feelings meant more to me than mine did right then, and I tried to be as kind as I could be. He didn't smash my car on purpose. He didn't run and hide. Such honesty should be rewarded with understanding and kindness. The whole thing could have turned out worse....just like the whole Nosferatu encounter. It could have been worse.

I try to take every moment of my life and use it as a lesson. What have I learned from Monday and Tuesday? I learned that it can always be worse.

But...well, I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to learn any more life lessons from flying rats, if that's alright. I think I can learn just as much from a chipmunk, thank you.

Rummage Sale Smiles

It's a chilly Saturday morning, your favorite cup of coffee is in your right hand, you steer with your left...your inner navigation system is searching frantically....for the next Rummage Sale. You look ahead to your right, there are lots of cars parked in front of that building...is that a sign you see? Yes...yes! A sale. You drive around until you find a parking spot...any spot will do because the excitement is building and you can't wait to get in there and see what treasures lie waiting.

I had just such an experience yesterday. I actually knew about this particular sale, but the feeling you get in your gut when you see all those cars and think to yourself, I should have come earlier...well, that's the same whether or not you were planning on attending the sale or not. You see it up ahead, and you feel the anticipation. I was hoping for a great find, and I wasn't disappointed.

My first run is always to the books. You never know what treasures you might find there, discarded from someones personal library. Usually they aren't valuable books I find, not in the traditional sense, but they are of value to me because of the topic or because of the unique bindings. Sometimes a book can just be beautiful from the outside and I'll have to have it. For the most part, I'm fussy about appearance and will hold out for a book in good condition, even if it takes years for me to find it. We went by the books, my daughter holding on tightly to my arm. It was so crowded, it was difficult to see anything. I told her we should skip to something else and we'd come back to the books later, which ended up to be great fortune.

She found a toy (a very large, plastic manta ray) that she just had to have, and for a dollar, I couldn't say no. She loves dinosaurs, sharks, snakes, bugs, spiders, alligators, and all other creepy things. She also loves Barbie. She's eclectic, and that is alright by me. As she clutched her prize, we made our way back to the book section. There were still far too many people for me to get too close, however, someone had moved a few books around and right on the top of a pile of books right in front of me was a copy of The Personal History of Henry the Eighth by Francis Hackett. The cover was in great condition, and the book was just as great. I grabbed it so fast, even if someone else had dared to be looking at it, they wouldn't have had a chance! I brought it with me to work today, so I could have it near me. I figure if I am ever having a slow day....well, a girl needs good reading material near her at all times, doesn't she? My husband also thinks I have far too many books at home, thus the Kindle purchase this past Christmas, but that's another blog altogether!

I also turned to my left and found a brand new, hand bound journal with hand made paper. It's just gorgeous and I HAD to have it! I felt like I had struck gold, and really, they were nothing more than a book of blank pages and an old history on a king I've read far too much about over the years, but it thrilled me beyond imagining. Rummage sale finds can really put a smile on your face. No matter what your "thing," there is something for everyone. (There was a whole table of cows I noticed in the housewares...maybe someone got sick of their cow collection and was moving on to pigs or roosters...and maybe someone found those cows and was thrilled with that find, too.)

What this whole blithering blog is trying to say is it's the simple things in life that put the biggest smile on your face. Enjoy those Saturday morning drives...sip that coffee, and get out there and find some treasure for a dollar or two.

You never know what you might find. You might even find that smile you lost along the way, too!

The Dance

What I want you do to is to picture the MOST ANNOYING thing your mother ever did to you, or still does to you. Think of how it makes you feel. Think of how ANGRY you are when you think about it. She complains that she hates your clothes, your hairstyle, your friends. She hovers over you like a helicopter in heat...she hugs you in public! She has a key to you house and she rearranges your kitchen drawers so that when you go to find your serving spoons, they aren't where they are supposed to be! She goes through your underwear drawers and asks you why you have thong underwear! She goes through your underwear drawers and asks why you DON'T have any underwear! Well, the list could go on...

So, picture this annoying thing.

Then picture your mother sick, and your mother...gone. Picture her old and feeble. Picture her in a nursing home. Picture her sitting alone, remembering you as a child, feeling lonely for the past. Picture yourself sick, and alone, because your mother is gone and isn't there to wipe your brow...to make you toast and tea with too much sugar in it. You complained about that tea, I know you did! But, what you wouldn't do for another cup of that horrid stuff...what you wouldn't do for her to wipe your sweaty forehead and kiss you just one more time...

Remember this when your mother, or really, ANYONE you love annoys you. You will crave that very thing they do to annoy you, once they are gone. It will be the thing you remember with nostalgia and sometimes with regret. You will wish you had handled it differently, but don't be too hard on yourself. We are all just human. You only responded to your own feelings as you had them at the time. I mean, who likes a helicopter in heat hovering over them all the time? It makes you feel as if you aren't being trusted or viewed as an adult. Anyone with any brains would respond negatively to that sort of thing, however, just remember that the intention wasn't to harm you, or make you feel badly. Sometimes Mom's just don't understand that there is a line, and you shouldn't cross it. They love you, as that's what they do. They don't understand that by hovering, they are hurting at the same time.

Be forgiving, of BOTH of you.....forgive them for driving you nuts, and forgive yourself for not being able to tolerate it.

It's all part of the dance of life....sometimes our partners step on our toes, sometimes we step on theirs. No perfection here. Just lots of dancing!