The Lucky Break Queue

My friend has created an amazing blog, and I just sent out a prayer on it... check it out! And send out a request of your own if you are moved to.

http://theluckybreakqueue.blogspot.com/



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Thank You for listening

Prayer answered.

Energy somewhat returned. Focus better. Some work completed. Not all, but a measurable amount.

Best of all - self-esteem slightly improved.

It's wondrous. Admit difficulty, call for help - and things change.

I have such a luxurious life.

Thank You.



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failure, procrastination, failure

they are dogging me these days.

And I would like this part of things to be over now, please.

I go to bed at night and think like I used to when I was twelve, or sixteen, or twenty-one.

"Tomorrow will be different. I will be different. I will exercise. I will eat right. I will do what I am supposed to do. I will lose weight. I will be beautiful. I will win the lottery. I will be rich. I will have the fantasy life I deserve..."

I signed up for a Coaching thing online. They sent me a few little tweaky notes, like, "Maria... a gentle reminder..."

I do not like gentle reminders. I rear my inner head at them, like a racehorse flaring its elegant nostrils, full of disdain.

I am obstinate and defiant and it is getting profoundly uncomfortable.

Help, please. I need a dose of focus and willingness to change. I don't really need any more excuses. Yes, I have some things on my plate. A son, a husband, too many tiny part-time work things that I mostly want to avoid. Yes, my husband has his stuff, and my son is five and in school a grand total of 12 hours a week, yes, yes, yes. And.

People work. I need to work. I have work to do. Work people will pay me for. I cannot avoid it. I am not rich. Last I checked, I did not win the lottery. I am not 12 anymore. I will never be an Olympic athlete. I will likely never be a movie star. And all the fantasizing in the world will not lead to change, if action does not accompany it.

So I put out my call to the universe, to god and goddess and spirit and all my ancestors -

please, change me. Help me change. Give me the focus and strength to follow a path, any path that you point me towards. At least help me exercise. Help me write for money tomorrow, at least for a little bit, and then the next day, too. Take the wasting time away from me. Help me be of service.

Please and Thank You, Aho and Amen.



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Emily, Emily, Wherefore Art Thou Emily?

I have to go learn some lines. Because I am in a play. A big play. For the first time in many, many years...

and sometimes I loathe it. Sometimes I want nothing more than to stay at home on my couch, preferably under a big warm blanket, and hide away... sometimes I want a life wrapped right up in nice soft cotton wool, where edge don't exist and it's just-right warm and muscles don't ache even when not active, where everything and me just drift and drift...

I think opium does that. I don't know. That's just what I've heard. I think it's much less appealing, that drift, from the outside point of view.

What is it about challenge that makes retreat so appealing?

I do not stay on the couch.

I push off, eat food, shower or bathe, brush teeth, drive the car to rehearsal - and usually, while there, I have a very good time.

Emily. Would she have hidden away from the world today?

Would she have been on Facebook?

Have hundreds of friends?

Why does he give so much away, the playwright? Why tell all the secrets of this most private and secretive woman? Why did he do that?

Perhaps he got them all wrong.

What do You know about Emily Dickinson? Tell me. Please.

Oh, and come see my play, if you would. January 22 through February 6. I expect by then I shall be The Belle of Amherst...

more details you may find on:

http://www.soundtheatrecompany.org/



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Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

Finn has changed his mind about what he'd like you to bring. He says he does not need the $50 Sodor Suspension Bridge anymore. What he really needs is a sled, a doll, a ball and a cookie. And he wrote the list himself - "sled" is particularly legible.

Hope you are reading, and have not left the North Pole yet.

Sincerely, Finn's Mom and Dad.



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Super Me

Exhausted, but super. That's me.

I am our primary breadwinner these days, with three clients to write grants for and a project to coordinate. I am taking a writing class. And I am beginning an acting project.

I am our primary parent these days, and I am doing more than I ever have. I make meals and clean up after them, do the laundry, clean the bathroom, care for our son and take him to school and read to him and spell with him and play with him.

I take out the trash and compost and recycling and I sweep the floors.

I build our fires. Two of them so far, the one tonight astonishingly good, if I say so myself.

I care for my husband, who is recovering nicely, but still needs me to pick things up off the floor and take off/put on his t.e.d. hose (such fun) and make most of his meals.

I have almost finished all of our Christmas shopping, online of course.

I have begun working on Christmas project-gifts and cards.

I have never, ever done this much for others in my entire life.

I remember, vaguely, that I used to spend time lying on the couch, reading.

I am not particularly resentful. Which is surprising, in a vague and quiet sort of way.

Activity breeds activity, it seems.





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What I Did Today (subtitle: Marriage)

I helped my husband out of bed, made coffee, made husband's oatmeal, made my son's peanut butter toast,
made my own oatmeal.

That's all the specific chronology I can recall. In no particular order, I also:

- emptied husband's pee bottle, 3 or 4 or 5 times (I think)
- watched husband walk to chair
- watched him walk back to bed
- put pillows under his legs for elevation
- took pillows out
- watched him do his physical therapy
- listened to too many stories to mention (including a really, really, really long one about one evil nurse who tore his bandages off, giving him blisters unnecessarily, and who was snarky and controlling - and she really was; I know because I had spoken with her on the phone the day before while figuring out discharge)
- got regularly sidetracked from all tasks by stories like the one above
- brought husband water, meds, pens, a sketchbook, his reacher, headphones, corn chips, soup & rice, an apple, a banana, orange juice & sparkling water
- just realized that he either didn't have dinner or else I forgot what it was
- made a cheese quesadilla for son for lunch, along with his cut-up apple
- listened to son spell many words
- made son soup for dinner
- made chocolate chip cookies, from scratch
- cleaned the kitchen two or three times
- kept the bathroom clean, a necessary task when one little boy pees on the toilet seat and one man does as well (when he's not using the bottle) because he can't easily reach said seat to lift
- took husband's TED hose off and then 2 hours later put them back on
- signed family up for netflix
- WORKED for an hour on grant-writing
- watched small pieces of at least 3 football games
- gave son a bath and washed his hair, never a jolly experience
- read a story about Thomas the Tank Engine, the title of which I cannot recall, in which the steamies fight with the diesels until Thomas has a dream where Lady tells him she gets along with Rusty, so he goes and finds friendly Mavis (a diesel) and together they get everyone working together again
- took a bath myself
- helped husband learn how to use new laptop for the first time, including figuring out how to work speakers for his viewing of The Daily Show and Colbert Report
- took out the garbage twice
- folded and put away a basket of laundry
- WORKED for 30 minutes or so on coordinating young playwrights program
- moved furniture around, bringing dining room side table into bedroom to make an extended bedside table big enough to hold water, light, magazines, books, sketchpads, meds, headphones, more sketchpads, lots of pens and pencils in three different cases, purell, and a lavendar eye pillow
- emailed some friends
- fell into Facebook
- wrote this post

And all through the day, I felt constantly shifting layers of mild to moderate irritation, tremendous thankfulness to have my husband home again, gratitude for the friends and family who took Finn on an outing for the afternoon, and another who brought unexpected, yummy food for dinner - and I was filled with pride in my husband for working so diligently on his recovery. For his commitment to get self-sufficient as soon as possible. My list of what I did is long, but his was harder - strengthening exercises to get a new hip working, figuring out how to reach and grasp and get what he needs without calling for help, doing whatever he could to care for himself.

I am married. We, my husband and I, are married. And this is what it looked like, and felt like, today.

Right before he was going to sleep, 45 minutes ago or so, we were talking and we both said, "It was a good day today!" And it was. We had time together alone, while Finn was out - and we sat in bed while he watched football and I wrote a piece of a grant.

Days like this are why I am married. And why I love it. I don't in any way wish this to be an everyday or usual occurence, as I know my husband does not wish to have major surgery on a regular basis. But when things like that occur, when need for help is at a higher level than normal days - it feels good. I felt, to paraphrase Thomas, like a really useful engine.

Love was muscular today.
Active.
Not romantic.
Real.





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