Wishing and Hoping

You know, I can do all the wishin' and hopin' my little head is capable of, but sometimes it's --wait, MOST times, it is the moving and doing that gets me what needs getting.
Sigh.
It's New Year's Eve.  We are out of bread.  I am rather handy at baking bread these days, BUT...i don't WANT to. Pout, pout. I'm going to wake up tomorrow, and either we will have bread or we won't.  It is up.to.me.
It means change. It means stop moping because "things" are changing, and get with it.  DUDE! Do you want the bread?  Then get off of your money maker and get.the.bacon. Er, bread.
Yesterday I had lunch with some girlfriends.  It was so right and fun and encouraging.
   "You don't know everything.  Use all the tools that are available to you," said one fine friend.
Isn't she smart? SO SMART! My friends may not have known how much they were encouraging me; I was debating over taking one of the kids into the clinic, but that encouragement is flowing over to today as well.  I am going to bake my bread already.  And I called the (cue dramatic, scary music)...BANK.  I've been needing to do it for a month, but kept putting it off.
You are looking at an independent contractor (still in the salon where I have been employed for the last 10.5 years).  I needed to set up my bank account to accept plastic payment.  I will not be accepting rubber payment, so if you are broke, Girrrrl, reschedule. :) I have been hesitant/nervous/procrastinating switching over for several years and for many reasons...like, there was that 30 question test (which is not difficult) that I had to take. Twice. There is the purchasing of my own supplies.  There is the setting aside and paying of taxes.  There is the responsibility for my own success.  It is happening, Baby! I AM in charge of my business.
What a great friend and mentor my former boss and current Salon Owner has turned out to be.  He had to really push me quite definitely and firmly to make this change.  He has been gently nudging me for, seriously you guys, three years.  He and his bride are just good peeps. I feel very fortunate to have been able to grow up and through this decade at Mark of Excellence.
The folks around me are my tools, and collectively, they know so very much about living.  I will forever be a wisher and hope-er. A hesitant doer.  Ima jus do eet.
Happy New Year!
Here's hopin y'all are doin fine and baking your proverbial bread!  WiHOOOO!
2014 in da HA-OUSE!
Feel free to say a little prayer for me!

it's nothing that a little scrubbing can't fix

combine equal parts dish soap and vinegar in one of those wand dish scrubbers. clean your sink, clean your shower. be happy.

that's what happens to me when i can get our shower a little sparklier. you can leave this wand in your shower and just do a quick scrub on the walls while you are showering. or, you can go in there during nap time wearing your flip flops and scrub, scrub, scrub your worries away. 

my thoughts are a little raw today...not bad, really, just super earthy...like when you can smell the rain before it comes, or like how the humidity rises when the sun comes out. 

um...NO.
not like that at all.
more like when you drink coffee because you like the taste of it, even though you know it will keep you up half the night. or stay out in the sun without sunscreen because the heat is just.so.right. i have been letting thoughts roll around in my little head that should be rolling on through. I AM PLAYING 'LET'S PRETEND'.
cleaning the bathroom today gave me some relief from my imagination.  and some sparkle.

chew on that.

Small & Simple

I spent the last 4-5 days near the loo.  Stomach bugs are no fun, you see, no fun attol.
Judah and I have been stinky partners in crime, butt (ha, ha) I think we are now in the clear.  AAAAAHHHHH! (angelic choir)

A consequence to the loss of fluids, was a reduction in my water retention.  At this level of obesity, I have heard it is not uncommon to retain water/have swelling in the legs/edema.  I have struggled with it for a long time, before I was, shall we say, quite so Large and In Charge.  I think it's the diet Coke and crap I eat, more than just the weight. Anyhoosie, my little feet have been looking like REGULAR ol' feet. No swelling. Don't get me wrong, I will always have cankles, but it was such a relief not to have puffy feet.  Sigh.  You MUST look for the good in things.
Crap your pants three nights in a row? At least your feet don't hurt.  Sanitizing every bloomin' surface under this roof? Thankfully, you bought that huge pack of Lysol at Costco.  Afraid to eat anything after having a poop-tastsic weekend? You got a little head start on your new weight-loss action plan!
And actually, that last bit of good was the point of my post.  I spent most of the day worried I was going to gain it all back, refilling my water cup, looking at my non-swollen feet, and eating small portion snacks/meals.  I had fountain pop twice last week, but haven't brought any 12 packs of diet coke in here for a few weeks.  It has been easier than I expected to move away from diet Coke, so I will just look at the food thing like the pop thing. How is this going to affect my feet?  Keep it small, keep it simple.  My outlook, my meal, my pocketbook, my shopping list...the same rule applies!!! (this rule DOES NOT apply to HAIR. BIG HAIR or go home, people)

1 April 1996

I have been slowly going through boxes of my old photos, cards, art supplies, random junk.  Today I came upon a beautiful journal I received as a gift in August 1995:  SARK's Journal and PLAY!BOOK. I really didn't make good use of it, but folded inside the back cover I found this poem I wrote in the Beehive, the computer lab at SCSU.  It is printed out on the paper that was typical for rough drafts, the kind that you have to tear the edges off.  I have actually looked for the poem a few times since ethioPifinn began.  I was a naive 20 year old, versus the naive 37 year old i am today. Makes me smile- I hope you enjoy it...

1 April 1996

XXXX XXXX

(i scratched that part out. i'm guessing it was addressed to a boy)

I am in this hive and the Queen Mother is coming to eat me up.

My mates are all buzzin and shaking--mapping out the path, telling

me where

they found the nutrients

but i'm no vega, give me meat

I need something to move my wings and I

need to eat--not be eaten.

There is the Great Fear because question lies

around the next bend keeping me

from ease and completion...

Just Ask is the advice and 

cleavage is the fence.

Blonde cleave and all that---

somebody get me over the roocky rapids

i mean rock solid rapidly

fallen,

falling

head over heel, hand over fist

sleeping waiting wanting   watched

wound  so tight that the  it,

that I

stop and go only far enough to be almost

There.

And the honey makers have made the honey and they are

Being Eaten

through revision and larger words and smaller thoughts.

The buzzers aren't buzzing they are screaming

and aren't mapping  out the path  the

Path.  The Path is long made

and the buzzers are lost and unsearching

and the hand touches  up,

not touches  UP, but moves upward for the source

of the thoughts   and

the strokes and the line.

But the buzzers are flying over me and flying backward

I am

--am moving   slowly and with wings-on-loan--

not of my own accord but via post...

Post is flakes of morning,

not mourning  but rejoice wit the 

strength  and power  of the unseen  wing, navigating

carrying  on in the

HIVE

post is the nourishment   of the carrier and the sender and

the, 

Well the idontknow,  the

Well.

Of life, of love, of the nonhoneymakers,

of the new winged,

The Newly Winged.

Alighted in the cortex not the stomach of

the dewinged

we fly so that we may not be dewinged and this

is why this jumble,

jingle, jangle, jingle

and the mirror is clouded

and full and does not reflect the

buzzers

in hope  in the upward

thoughts  the

jumble  desists for the

need of silence and 

of escape, not the same, not even similar.

How do the others move on without the

jam, the traffic, the

questions of impossible contem-

plation...

so do they have it, not It but

the snag  the hitch, propelling

yet grounding

The Flight,

it is all about the flight and

the company we keep along the way and

so she, so

I

write and ease the mind and rest the weary wings, no

wings-on-loan

i provide no fuel but

rest the sea legs, fry the flying fish

and put away the hooks,

or the Books,

they are the same.

The words come and remind of the Wellness

and the breezey open field.