Gemini and Cancer

I picked up a fun little astrology book totally written for kids some time back.  Exhausted last night, I grabbed it as a light read while soaking in the bath.  I've read through the sign descriptions so many times in so many books, but I always find it interesting to read a new perspective on it, and sometimes a particular aspect of a sign comes through in a new way.

My sister and I had a conversation about Gemini at my last trip to South Carolina.  Her recently deceased boyfriend was a Gemini (and he had a Pisces moon--both like me), and she related how she'd read that Geminis need a lot of sleep--which he did, and I do.  

My little girl has half her planets in Gemini, and she has a tendency to get sick if she doesn't get plenty of sleep, as evidenced last night.  Michael has a Gemini ascendant and needs far more rest than I've come to expect of folks--always granting myself and children privileged liberties, of course.  Anyhow, I thought that it was interesting what a Gemini household we have, Alex being the one holdout.  And, actually, I don't think he needs sleep quite like the rest of us do.

So, that wasn't at all from the book, was it?  I suppose that reading about Gemini triggered my memory of that conversation with my sister.

I read the Cancer portion as well (my rising and Mercury signs), and I found it interesting to read about the origin of the crab association.  Originally, the Egyptians apparently designated two turtles to represent Cancer.  I was surprised at 'two'.  I wonder why?  I used to wear a little turtle pendant that I adored, but I had no idea about the Cancer representation.  However, the book explained the crab association with the sign so well that I have to admit it seems most appropriate.  They said something to the effect of, "Cancers will cling on to something with all their might.  If their claw gets ripped off, they'll just grow another and reattach themselves."  I loved it.  So true. 

I've been thinking about that post I wrote about the Universe's sense of humor in not granting me things when I want them, and also of the saying, "If you love something, let it go.  If it comes back to you, it's yours.  If it doesn't then it never was to begin with."  Us poor little Cancers just can't get it.  We cling and cling and cling.  Sometimes it's just not healthy, and it's best to let go.  Occasionally, though, when we let go and then find our beloved possessions/still-scarred ones returned to us, then we can rest easier and maybe not grip so tightly again.  So sad for us, because we have that innate pincer grip.  Maybe, perhaps, somehow it's better that I let go first, before receiving them back.  You know, before I dated Michael, I'd been stricken with a huge crush on him.  Months later, I dated someone else and let go of my crush a bit.  Only then did he ask me out, of course...  Maybe this is a lesson I need to learn in my life.  I am trying to remind myself to let go on a daily basis.  My BFF did come back (still-scarred, of course), after an extended absence, and I think we've both grown from the experience--I hope.  She needs space, and I need consistency.  We're still who we are, but I think we're both more vigilant about being sensitive to each other's foibles, and I am trying to carefully sheath my pincers.  

Whew, that was heavy.  Actually, one thing that I noticed about both Gemini and Cancer in this kids' book was their urge to write.  Of the two, it was Cancer who was particularly computer-inclined.  Oh, and the book named them the two most humorous signs of the zodiac!  Now, where is my allotment?  Come on, I should be a stand-up comic with all the Gemini and Cancer in my chart!  Oh well...at least I like to write!  

Actually, I have read about that before.  Geminis are the witty quippers, whereas Cancers revel in the humorous anecdote.  I do like to think that I sometimes get the anecdote bit down, but I can't remember a joke to save my life!   

Facebook webcam photo shoots

One day, I'm going to get all dolled up and really do a photo shoot.  Maybe!  But tonight, perhaps because it's way too late and I should be sleeping, I decided to play with my webcam.  Honestly, the only way I even know how to turn it on is via Facebook!  So, anyway, I felt fairly safe with it being the middle of the night and all (I can delete any embarrassing pics and all the posts before folks see!).  Yes, I did a little photo shoot, and I'm sorta tickled about it right now, even though I didn't so much as brush my hair or put on makeup.  Oh well!  The pic's a little blurry, but I kind of like it.  You're probably wondering, 'Wasn't her hair lighter before?'  Answer: 'Yes, and any color is prettier than the natural shade!'  You're possibly asking, as well, 'why doesn't she ever smile?  Especially after the braces and all?'  Well, it's cuz my face is thinner when I don't.  Vanity works in strange ways, no?

A Hundred-Year-Old Personal Note

Michael gave me a precious gift tonight--a copy of Willful Gaynell by Laura Jean Libbey, c 1890.  I mention this book in my novels, as my character/relative Gaynelle was said to be named after a character in a Victorian novel.  I found this popular dime novel in my research and guessed/hoped it was the link.  I looked to buy the book online, but it wasn't to be found.  Michael, however, made some inquiries with antique book dealers and procured two separate copies for me.  Not expensive gifts whatsoever, but completely precious to me for sentimental reasons!

In the volume that I received today, a note had been penned inside the cover:

A Merry Xmas & a Happy New Year to Violet

From Lena

Dec. 25-1911

Chicago

Ill.

Those words were written just barely shy of 100 years ago!  And the book is 121 years old.  Is that not amazingly cool?  And Violet and Lena are such PERFECT, fun names.  Michael said, instantly, "I think you have your next two character names!"  We'll see, though.  Fiona already adopted Violet for her book months ago, so I may not get dibs on that name.

I've read only the first chapter, but Libbey is definitely a woman of high action.  We've had a 'stinging blow' efficiently delivered from our heroine, a tirade by her, a romantic thrill between her and the dashing Percy Granville, and a life-threatening flood already!  How is Libbey going to keep up this pace for the next 239 pages? 

Not as many Kisses

Nope, not as many kisses, thanks to my dear little Alex.  Alex reviewed Keyes' new book, giving high praise and criticizing only the smooching: 
...The one thing that I didn’t like very much in your book was all the kissing, but it’s probably just me, because I don’t like that stuff while your average middle school Joe has a crush on someone already. But don’t get me wrong, other than that your book was awesome!...
Actually, he talked in person with Keyes as well, and he communicated the same idea straight off.  Keyes sent Alex a letter thanking him for the review and letting him know he'd deleted one of the kisses from the story!  So, if the romantically inclined readers are disappointed--they can blame my little guy!

You know, I think I'm more excited about all this hobnobbing with successful authors than Alex is.  I suppose he sees it as par-for-the-course, given the books we're writing and the authors he's already met! 

Major Mojo

I went to see a psychic yesterday.  It was an intense experience, and I was a bit too overwhelmed to write my BFF about it yesterday, but I sat down this morning to type her, and she'd penned me a two-line e-mail last night that she couldn't write but was eager to tell me about her visit with a psychic yesterday!  OMG!  Isn't that wild?  Of course, hers was a pet psychic, but still!  Now, I haven't been to see a psychic except one other time (a palm-reader) in all my years in Savannah, and that lady was laughable with no apparent abilities--it was the standard, vague, stupid stuff.  Kinda fun only for the experience of laughing at the ridiculously unsatisfactory reading (she got me all wrong, too). 

Michael had bought me a gift certificate for Valentine's or something, but I'd lost the little receipt (she hadn't actually given him a real gift certificate). Anyhow, I was in town for Alex's lunch-with-me, then I went to see Nana at the hospital, then went to a real lunch with Michael. While we were out, he pointed out the psychic's storefront when I asked. I wasn't really planning on seeing her, but I swung by about 2:45 just to see if I could set up my appointment. Instead, she immediately said, "Yes, I remember, come on in here." Before I could blink, she was shuffling the Tarot cards.

She was either incredibly intuitive and had great deductive skills, OR she really is psychic. Well, I believe in psychic phenomenon actually, so I don't discount that there is like a degree of it going on anyway.

So, she's shuffling the cards and asks my name and birthdate and profession. I explain about being a writer, as yet unpublished. She's still shuffling and gets a confused look and says, "But you don't use this name with your writing. What name do you use for that?" When I gave her my pen name, she looked relieved and nodded satisfactorily, "That's it." Wow!

So, the first thing she tells me, upon reviewing the card layout, is that I'm a very kind, giving person. This is the card to my lower right.  So far, pretty standard.  Then, she looks at the card to my lower left, the 'hermit' card, and goes on and on about how I feel an intense need to be alone for my work, that it's the only way I can feel focused, that it's the only way I can work.  Now, this is me exactly!  Then, she scans the cards and says that my main troubling emotion is one of guilt. She relates this back to my work, and says PRECISELY what I'm always complaining about. She says, "You feel guilty when you're working that you're not spending time with your family. When you're with them, you feel guilty that you're not working. It goes on and on, back and forth."  It was like she was quoting me.

She looks and explains that I've sacrificed my work for my family, that it's not progressed as it would if I hadn't done this. I'm just starting to feel slightly defensive when she says, "But this isn't a bad thing. I see this is important."  Again, perhaps just very perceptive to my facial expressions?

She continues to scan the cards, and she says that my second emotion is one of confusion. She goes on for a bit--I don't remember exactly what all she says--but she tells me that my emotional problems are mostly related to issues in a past life. Now, mind you, she did ask vaguely what my books were about, so she knew they had a historical bent--what author with that mindset, seeing a psychic, wouldn't just DIE to hear that? However, it gave me a thrill anyhow, especially as she said that these past lives played a big role in my work.

Much of what she said could have been guess-work. Problems with guilt and confusion are probably pretty damn common with 'working' moms, especially, right?

She gave little more, once I started talking. She knew she had me hooked!  Instead, I got the sales pitch. While OTHER folks can often come in and immediately get a past life regression, I am not able to handle it yet. She said that I needed first to ground my spirit. She says that if I were to go back now, I'd experience the regression first-hand, and it could be too traumatic. HEALTHY folks should be able to view it as an observer, but I wouldn't. So, I need at least two energetic meditation/Reiki sessions ($100 each) with her--at least. Then, she said that she thought I'd need at least THREE past life regressions ($200 each) to get to the core of my issues and address/identify/'correct' these problems in my life.

I'm a bit torn about it. I'm pretty frugal, and she wasn't 100% with everything--I don't believe. However, you know, sometimes we don't see ourselves perfectly. A few of the things she said didn't resonate exactly, but I'm not convinced they were completely wrong.

You know, it was pretty intense. Even if she is more intuitive and charlatan than psychic, it seems like the regressions could be therapeutic for me. I'm fairly pessimistic about unproven therapies with me, though... but we could see (quite a price for curiosity, hmm?).

One thing that made me quite uncomfortable was that, after she emphasized the 'confidentiality' of our sessions, she told me that she needed the names, birthdates and addresses of anyone I had issues with or needed to discuss. I don't think this is unusual. I believe the telephone psychics generally ask that information right off, that they use it to guide them--but it makes me squirm terribly. Can you imagine the future headline, "Sophia Alexander's Private Psychic Tells All--Exclusive!" Ack! That's scaring me off a bit.

You know, I'm pretty sure she'd forgotten my own personal info by that point, as she included me in the mix. She seemed very sincere, pretty professional, but still!

I do have a plan. My sis is going to come and get a tarot reading of her own (my treat), without mentioning me. If this lady can peg my sister, I'll know she truly does have some major mojo. Of course, she could have major mojo and still tell-all, right?  Oh well, we'll see...so far, I'm way impressed with her.  And the fact that my BFF simultaneously went to a psychic, on the same day, really hints at the validity of the extrasensory powers of our minds, right?  Yeah, I consider myself pretty darn in-tune to psychic stuff.  Hook me up with an even more psychic therapist, and this could be a wild ride!  Funny that her intent is to 'ground' me, though, isn't it?  I'm not sure I want to be grounded.  Maybe I should write book #3 first!

A Busy, Busy Spring of Repairs, Remodeling, and Writing and The Universe's Humor

Just gotta love how life keeps on movin', right?  There's always so much to do!  My plans for this spring were already pretty set with editing and my third novel.  I thought I was taking on a lot with my own skinnyfying calorie counts and all, too--and I'd planned to order some new chicks as well (see how all this is self-imposed?).  However, I don't live in my own little bubble--not entirely--and I do have to work with the world.  I mean, that's my choice, right?  So, despite all my single-minded plans, the world and my friends and family have their own (often wonderful) ideas.

Therefore, life is BUSY as always.  I do want to get back to the calorie counting soon, as those funerals met the end of my calorie-counting time for a while (always hardest to initiate things, so that was a big set-back).  I've honestly been too afraid to get on a scale for a couple of weeks!  I know I've let things slide, and, despite the weight I've put on over the years, I've never completely let myself go (just saying that 'letting things slide a little' can easily equate to packing on the pounds with me). 

My BFF sent me a wonderful, motivating box of clothes, though.  They're perfect for me now, so I can't afford to gain any weight.

This is the quietest week I've had for a while.  Our friends were here last week, which was lovely but, again, another quirk in the plans.  It worked out well, though, as it gave me some motivation for cleaning my house beforehand, which I always enjoy more after the cleaning!

I'm finally back into editing a bit this week, thank goodness.  Yesterday, though, I had our new stove delivery to deal with.  Today, Alex has a 'lunch with me' event at school for parents to come in and simply dine with their kids.  I wasn't actually planning on going, but when he asked if I was coming, I asked if he really wanted me to.  He gave a nonchalant shrug, and I said I'd just skip it (lame-o mom!), that I'd only gone to Fiona's similar event because she'd really wanted me to go--but that I'd still attend his if he felt strongly about it.  Alex maintained his cool demeanor, but he said  a bit impatiently, "Mom, I wouldn't have told you about it if I didn't want you to come."  Oh!  Right!  So, umm, yeah, I'm going to have lunch with him today.

This weekend involves painting the new work space for Michael.  Yes, among all the other stuff going on, he's rented a new space.  We're excited about it, but of course there's a good bit of prep work.  This time, we've got to have a temporary wall installed, too.  So, we're commencing trying to get that all fixed up (it's a mess right now and he needs to be there next Friday with patients).

As soon as that is up and running, we'll be off in a couple of weeks to work on my Granny and Granddaddy's house that the kids have so recently inherited.  Oh, I didn't tell you the funniest thing.  When the kids found out that they were getting their own house, Fiona asked nervously, "Will you and Daddy spend the first few nights there with us?"  Isn't that too sweet?

For now, though, my aunts and folks are dealing with estate sale stuff and all, and I'm pretty alright with waiting on that.

You know, I think the universe plays a good-natured joke on us.  I mean, let me say first that the universe has been very kind to me and I'm extremely appreciative of all my blessings.  However, it seems like things I dream of have this delayed gratification cycle.

For example, I dreamt of having my grandparents' home when I was young.  I adored it.  For many years, I thought I'd like to one day buy one of the less expensive homes further in the country to fix up.  Finally, in the past five years or so, I decided that I was glad we only had one home to maintain, that our time-share is perfect in not having to deal with maintenance, repairs, and all.  Now, I get the house!  Tons of work, but a huge blessing and I am truly thrilled, but daunted, too!

I have many other examples of this phenomenon.  Let's see...Alex is one.  I was a baby-obsessed teenager and young woman.  I nearly ached with ecstatic anticipation of the day that I would have a baby.  However, perhaps a year or two before he was conceived, I realized how many plans I had, how much I wanted to do, how full my life already was.  I began to contemplate the idea of not having children and thought that sounded much more practical.  However, when our 'surprise' came along, I was thrilled, of course.  I loved being pregnant with him...and he was perfect (aside from the colic and all).  Again, though, much work!

I'm thinking of a few other examples, but I won't bore you with all the details.  Perhaps the universe decides that those gifts will not meet up to our expectations if we receive them when we most want them (maybe before we can handle them?).  I don't know.  But it's a strange sort of irony.  I often think, now?  Why now?  Maybe things just get in queue when we first want them, and, by the time I get them, my fickle nature has changed?  I don't regret them, though, of course. 

I received my piano after my passion for it had dwindled a bit, but it's been a real blessing to have around, and the kids are learning on it and all.  I love it.  I longed for one so much earlier in life, though, and had rather gotten past the most intense desire for one. (Ah, I'm boring you with more of those stories, my apologies!)  Just wondering about the universe's design, I suppose.

Oh, I suppose I have NOTHING to complain about.  How many folks throw everything they have into a cause and never see it realized in their lifetimes?  So many die a bitter death...Susan B. Anthony championed the suffragette movement, never seeing the fruits of her labor.  How many authors and artists are unrecognized in their own lifetimes?

Oh well, I'm a lucky duck...  Things are good.  Sure, I may need to take a second look at my personal plans, in order to accomodate real life, but I heard a quote once, something like, "Life is what happens between your plans."  And sometimes, that life bit can make our plans even better, right?

New Stove

Okay, so I don't always want to recycle and repair!  I am thrilled to have a brand-new stove.  That old one was down to one burner and had the habit of setting off the smoke detector each time I used it.  The oven's been broken for a couple of months, too!  We had an incident where Alex was baking a cake for school, and it stopped working while cooking!  Fortunately, the oven was hot enough to finish them.  Nope, that wasn't when it broke--I'd just forgotten, in my spacy way, and then rejoiced when the oven came on for us just before we put the tins of batter in the oven.  So anyhow, yep, I'm happy to have a brand NEW stove, even though Michael really wanted to fix the old one (I wouldn't let him!).  This one has a glass top, which is such a relief for cleaning purposes.  Those burners were a blight on my existence! 

Ben's book, Sam's book, Greg's book, Michael's book, & my book

I have just picked up--at last--a book that I've been meaning to get to.  I've been eyeing it for a couple of years, since we bought it.  It's the Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin.  What a treasure...I can't believe it took me so long to get around to it.  We've all heard about him forever, but now he's speaking directly to me...or to his son, I believe, for whom he wrote the autobiography while in his old age.  He's so charming!  I thought it hilarious when he said he's going to indulge in the pastime of many  an old man by talking about himself ad nauseum (this is my interpretation of his words, anyhow), but that maybe this wouldn't be so annoying, as one could read it or not read it, according to preference.

Anyhow, it's amazing how much Ben sounds like Sam.  That's Samuel McGill Davis, who wrote his own memoirs in his Narrative of Reminiscences of Williamsburg County in the late 19th century (a whole century after Ben wrote his).  Oh, I've just seen that this book is free for Nook users on http://www.bn.com/.  Both men, Sam and Ben, sound remarkably alike, despite the difference in time and geography.  I suppose it's because they likely had similar educations--Sam's country educators may have been a few years behind the up-and-coming Bostonians and Philadelphians that Ben surrounded himself with, but I believe they studied Classics more similarly to each other than to the modern educations that we receive.  Anyhow, I'm sure THEY wouldn't see the similarities.  It's just striking to me, and I can't help but like them both to bits, despite knowing that they were both rascals of the same sort (or maybe that's part of why I like them?).  Ben's book, of course, is put together better, and he's remarkably honest in telling about how he learned to persuade people (I need to take notes--I realized his recommendations were directly contrary to what I do!).  He actually put a lot of effort into learning the art form!

There are a couple of things I really, really like about Ben.  Between the ages of 12 and 17, at some point, he chose a vegetable diet after being inspired by his reading.  For him, this really meant eschewing the 'flesh' course and living on bread, rice, etc.  He was being boarded by a family while he worked his apprenticeship at his brother's print shop, and you can imagine how uncommon it must have been in the 18th century colonial times, right?  Pretty amazing fellow. 

The other really cool bit was that, during these same years, he engaged in 'discussions' in letter format with another intelligent young man named Collins.  Collins argued against 'educating the female sex in learning'.  Ben does not attempt to claim any sort of pride about his response, which he says he probably made just for the sake of argument, but he and Collins exchanged many a letter arguing the point.  When Ben's father found the letters, Ben was impressed that he did not engage in the discussion but only helped critique Ben's writing, pointing out areas where Ben did not meet up with Collins in elegance of expression or perspicuity (I had to look that up--it means clarity).  Pretty neat, this personal anecdote from this brilliant man of the 18th century, isn't it? 

Anyhow, I've got most of the autobiography left to go, and I need to get back to Sam's memoirs, too.  I dropped Sam after he eloped with a 14-year-old girl.  Not only did Sam steal the 14-yr-old from the girls-only boarding house, thus tarnishing the reputation of the woman who ran it and was in charge of keeping the girl safe (she was there to be educated), but the slave who helped them was sold away to a distant state, away from her family.  Yeah, Sam lost me there.  But...he did love and stay married to his wife, and I still want to read the rest of his narrative.  He was, overall, a pretty well-intentioned guy.

 

Oh, we finished Gregory Keyes' book last night, and I was pleased with it overall.  Looks like a great start for a series of boys' books, after a bit of editing, of course.  Alex needs to write his review for Keyes tonight.

Michael has begun editing his book, and I am muddled in the middle of editing my first book.  A mess, I say!  Speaking of which, I should get back to it...

A House, It Is!

It's a done deal.  My children now share ownership of their great-grandparents' home in Greeleyville.  It's so exciting and a bit daunting.  Maintenance alone is going to be a challenge, but I've already got plans brewing for sprucing it up, too.  We'll see...I've had plans for our own house for years that are still in the pipeline.

My Beautiful Little Girl

Speaking of bragging, I'll indulge a little here!  My sweetheart, darling girl (and I) received one of the most lovely compliments I've yet heard today, from her gifted teacher (like how I threw in the 'gifted'?).

The enthusiastic teacher approached me while Fiona was engaged in her dance class.  Ms. A. gushed something like, "I just wanted to tell you that I think your daughter is so beautiful.  She is just exquisite.  I find myself sitting and gazing at her...do you do that, too?  But she doesn't seem to be aware of it.  She's such a sweet person, so considerate and eager to learn.  She's a beautiful person, inside and out.  You've done such a great job with her."  

Yes, music to a mother's ears.  The finest music, right?  And, you know, it echoes my sentiments exactly.  Fiona has her faults, to be sure, but she is a beautiful person, both inside and out--and I just love Ms. A. for noticing--and for giving me a bit of credit.  I feel so blessed and lucky to have such lovely children, but it is heavenly to receive notice for my efforts, regardless!

Piddly Sidenote:

You know, now that I think about it...it's not so much bragging that bothers me as the slights to others.  For instance, if Fiona announced, "I am smarter and prettier than every other child in my class," especially publicly, that would just be a bit tactless and rude.  Worse yet, if she said "I am smarter and prettier than Holly Mae," especially publicly in front of Holly Mae--now THAT would be terribly rude.  Why is that okay for politicians?

Special by Nature

I'm a special sort of American--a South Carolinian.  So Michael tells me...we have that stubborn, top dog mentality that demands independence and gets scrappy at any perceived slight.  Maybe it's true--almost like the extreme version of the typical American. 

I read an editorial recently that I took offense to--it was about the lack of self-abasement, of humbleness, in our youth.  They perceive themselves as likeable and smart--far more so than their Asian counterparts.  The article insisted that it would be better for us to see ourselves as no better than anyone else--to be HUMBLE. 

You know, there is an element of that that I agree with.  As a child, I was immensely offended by politicians who touted their own importance--who blatantly insulted their competitors and said proudly, "I'm the best man for the job!"  What poor, poor behavior, I thought.  I still believe that.  I would be far more likely to support a candidate who showed grace and goodwill and a bit of, well, dignity--and I don't understand why that sort of tasteless behavior is continually rewarded by our citizens.

However, I suppose I see that as falling into the realm of Etiquette.  Sure, perhaps you might believe you're the best man for the job, but you don't SAY that.  It's just tacky.  Maybe you do believe or at least hope you're the smartest and the best-looking--but you don't SAY you're better-looking than so-and-so.  

In fact, I suppose that I see it as a bit unhealthy to really perceive yourself as NOT special.  I hope you have the taste and class not to brag about your superiority, but do we honestly hope our children don't believe they're special?  They're just one of faceless millions?  THAT'S the ideal?  I find it a quite depressing thought.  Why bother with much of anything, beyond public works projects and general communist agendas?

From this perspective, scholars and artists are particularly vain and pointless, aren't they?  Any particularly successful person needs to be pulled down to level, don't they?

I do realize that I'm a rather extreme form of the already extreme--not just an American, but a South Carolinian American.  Self-dignity abounds, deserved or not.  Perhaps it's just because I have a long ancestral heritage in South Carolina, but I can't imagine wanting to be raised any other way.  Unless you're a government representative looking for pawns to follow commands, why would you want your citizens to be self-abasing, truly believing their thoughts and opinions are not all that important?

I can see where it's useful when viewing the society as a whole, but I also see that as the root of atrocities.  SS soldiers took commands from their superiors, without valuing their own moralities as they should have.  We trust our leaders as 'wise' and therefore unconditionally condone their cruelties and aggressive actions--ascribing our group mentality as 'loyalty' and 'patriotism'.  Our families eat meat from inhumane factory farms?  Then so do we! 

Yes, this behavior definitely is a boon to the system.  Talk about keeping things operating smoothly, without a bump or glitch in the system.

On the other hand, we South Carolinians have potholes every which way, so to speak.  Church congregations split up faster than you can say the Lord's Prayer.  Families don't speak.  Feuds and Grudges are too often unfortunately eternal.  So, yeah, us self-important folk are a pain.  

I regard myself as a bit of an anomaly, though, in that, while I retain the fiercely independent perspective of the South Carolinian, I don't share the common political perspective.  How is it that such independent thinkers did allow slavery?  Are so conservative and Republican, 'patriotic and loyal', judgmental Bible thumpers?

I suppose I'd say that, like South Carolinians, I retain that belief in 'Specialness', but perhaps that doesn't translate to 'Selfishness'.  While I am, by nature, like most folks, a 'selfish' being, I think I do realize this and aspire to recognize the dignity and worth of other people, and even other creatures.  Too often, I think folks have such insecurity that they feel the need to tear down others, to prove how 'unspecial' everyone else is.  To my mind, we should aspire to feel as secure as we can in our own 'specialness' so that we can expand beyond that, so that we can honor the specialness in everyone--in all creatures.  No (sigh), that's not a South Carolinian belief, in particular, but I do attribute my willingness to be different, to tackle my goals, to confront, well, everything, in part to being a scrappy South Carolinian.  Feeling special apparently does not translate to being moral, but to become Ghandi or Mother Theresa or anyone who works for the rights of others, for moral causes, inherently requires a belief in your own 'specialness', your own ability to achieve in the first place, right?  I've noticed that many celebrities become active in causes with time--even our more outrageous celebrities--and I think that part of this comes as a result of their realization of their own self-importance.  They feel as though they can effect a change.  Yes, perhaps they've earned this right more than each of our scrappy little South Carolinians, but I do think that feeling of specialness is core to being able to achieve, to effect change.

Hmm...you know, I suppose that, ironically, it takes a belief in yourself, in your own thoughts, in order to even enter the space where you are able to question the moralities of your society.  Therefore, you must have a belief in your 'specialness' in order to even consider the sacredness, the specialness of other humans, of other creatures who are currently being misused by our society.  You also, I must say, have to step beyond 'selfishness' to address these issues, as they are generally being misused because we benefit from it in some way.  Do we want to repress democracy in the MidEast in hopes of keeping our gas prices low?  Do we ignore animal welfare because steak for dinner sounds fantastic?  Especially cheap steak?  Do we buy cheap coffee as opposed to the more expensive 'fair trade' coffee? 

I'm not saying that anyone is perfect.  I'm not perfect.  My family members are not perfect.  South Carolinians, by golly, are far from perfect.  But we are special, and I encourage everyone to identify and honor those traits that make us uniquely special.  It doesn't make anyone any more special to tear anyone else down.  Feeling special is part and parcel of innovative progress.  The other element of progress, Cooperation, is another discussion perhaps best addressed by a non-South Carolinian ;).

The Sniffles

My eyes itch.  I'm sneezing.  Pollen, dust, more pollen, then...ack!  mold!  It's ridiculous!  Michael and I are both a mountain of allergies, but at least I still have my voice.  He can barely talk!  Other than that--all is well!  

We are expecting some visitors to arrive tomorrow, and I need to get back to the cleaning...but hopefully I'll vacuum and dust things enough so that it'll be better inside.  We turned on AC not because it was too hot, but in hopes of keeping out some of the pollen.

And...I even made some coffee again today, using some of my local honey in case it helps.  I've been using the local honey for years, and my allergies have not seemed so bad in the last few years.  Trying to keep down the quantity, but I may have just jumped on a sled down that slippery slope!

Another Skinny-fying Tip

After many failed attempts at finding 'substitutes' for my sweet drinks, I happened to try a packet of Crystal Light PureFitness lemon-lime beverage mix--only 30 calories for 16 oz.  The sweetness comes from pure sugar and a stevia extract, but it's actually really good, whereas I don't like stevia extract alone nor stevia extract with honey.  I've now also tried the lemonade and strawberry-kiwi flavors, which I actually like just fine.
Thanks to Michael for picking it up at the store for me!  He just thought it was worth a shot. 

As for my Skinny-fying progress?  Well, I should have, I suppose, about a week left of this month, but I haven't been keeping track for some time and it shows.  I have happily shed perhaps another pound or two this month, but I'm off the calorie counting and tracking for now.  I might get back to it in a couple of weeks, but not just yet.  I've honestly been fairly oblivious to worrying about it, but Alex turned to me yesterday--when he had the idea for us to just raid the pantry and eat 'a lot of stuff'--and said, "You're off your diet now, right Mom?"  So funny, because he generally follows my weight trends to a greater degree than me, and he's looking pretty darn good right now!  I'm still trying to keep it reasonable, but I have no idea how many calories I've eaten on any particular day in the last couple of weeks.  It's a slippery slope, I know!

A House, I Think

Wow...so much has happened in these past few days.  By the way, I did find it therapeutic to write that venting post, apparently--or maybe someone sent me some healing energy (my thanks!).  Anyhow, I was fine after writing that and a bike ride with my little girl. 

Completely unexpected turn of events...  I was honored on Friday night to be invited by my aunt to spend the night in my grandparents' room.  I cherished my goodbye to them--as she told me that she is planning to sell the house.  I tried to be okay with that--she's approaching 70 and is widowed.  She has her own home and her friends and her church quite a ways away.  So, anyhow, I said my wistful farewells to the house where I celebrated holidays and spent parts of my summer breaks.  I used to dream of owning it when I was little, but that seemed completely unrealistic.

However, my folks have out-of-the-blue offered to buy the place for us.  They're very clear that they want to see more of us up there, and they're going to go ahead and put the place in the kids' names.  This is unprecedented and too wonderful--we've already figured out what to do with all the rooms.  Right now, they're all emptying the place of stuff, and we've already got an agenda of repairs to face, but WOW, right?  And perfect for a certain little artist/gardener girl, right?  Alex has bigger plans, but he's excited, too :).

My aunt has agreed, so I'll be anxiously awaiting the title transfer...  As Mom said, "This is a once in a lifetime thing, you know."

An Unattractive, Redundant and Particularly Harmful Stage of Grief

I found a new stages of grief, broader than the 5-stage Elizabeth Kubler-Ross version.  I like it better, too, I think...especially for my situation.  I really couldn't comment on the traditional stages, as I've never lost someone infinitely precious to my daily life--at least not to death.  While I love my grandparents, it's not at all the same, you know.

However, I find myself still hit hard by emotions right now.  I'm out of kilter with the traditional stages, though.  I can identify better with the New Stages, which include only three:  1) numbness, sadness; 2) intense emotion, including depression or anger; 3) recovery.  

My grief not only encompasses my feelings around my grandfather's death, but grief for my sister's suffering.  On Monday, her boyfriend--her first serious boyfriend since she was widowed six years ago--had a seizure and died in her arms.  He was only thirty.  She is completely heartbroken, and I feel her pain so much.  I immediately went to be with her and witnessed her heartache.  So, so much pain.  Life seems so unfair...and I haven't told you the tragic history...there's much more.  She shouldn't have to suffer so much, and he shouldn't have, either.  

That was overwhelming by itself.  In fact, I'd already entered the grief process there with her, for her.

Then, when Granddaddy died, that cemented it.  I felt my mind slow, numb with crying and sadness. 

I almost wish I could just stop it there and jump to recovery.  That seems, well, almost commendable, right?  It's appropriate to be sad at these incredibly sad events.  

However, I have quickly progressed to the intense emotion stage, and I'm incredibly sorry to say that manifests as ANGER.  No, not at the deceased--of course not.  It tends to land upon whoever behaves imperfectly at this time of heartache.  I am dealing with livid rage, honestly, and I'm noticing this is a pattern.  No, not anger at the same folks as at my grandmothers' funerals or my brother-in-law's funeral.  While I haven't done anything with my current rage, except vent to my BFF, I'm a bit scared of attending the funeral.  What can I do with such intense emotion?  How do I handle this?  

Ideally, I want to be supportive.  I want to honor the deceased, to support the most deeply bereaved.  How do I let go of this anger?

Death of a Do-Right-Daddy-Got-a-Home-Anywhere-I-Go

My grandfather, Emmett Galashaw Ard, passed away today.  He was 91 years old.  July 8, 1919-March 2, 2011.  Though he was suffering from leukemia, he was so vital and alive only two months ago.  Just a couple of weeks ago, he asked my father to take some of his money and buy my mother a new gown or flowers after her appendicitis surgery.  When we visited with the kids just after mom's surgery, he tried to entertain us, but he was clearly run down and feeling unwell.  Yesterday, when I held his hand, I prayed it would be over for him soon.  His misery was apparent, and he was as purple from bruising as he was chalky white; he was curled in a fetal position and slept--as he's been for the past week or two.  I kissed the top of his head, too...don't know if I've ever done that before.  I love my granddaddy.  I'm going to miss him.  He had more character and vitality than just about anyone I know.  My granddaddy had a sermon about "Jumping for Jesus" and tried to devote himself to God, so, if anyone enters those pearly gates, he should be amongst them.  And he should certainly be at home there, since, as he told me in January, he's a "do-right-daddy-got-a-home-anywhere-I-go."  Granny's been flying with the angels for almost a year up there, and I'm sure she's figurin', "It's about time."