Two days in a row! I'm blogging two days in a row!! Don't get used to it, totally a fluke.
Last week the weather warmed up, the snow melted, it was nice and sunny and the air smelled good. Granted, it's still February so I knew it wouldn't last, but for a day or two, it was glorious! I wanted so badly to pull the cover off of my little Porsche roadster and take 'er for a spin. There's something so amazingly fantastic about driving a fast car, top down, wind in my face, scenery whizzing by at embarrassingly fast speeds. I can't get enough of it!
I can her your eyes rolling! I know what you're thinking... "but Cindy, you're a g-i-r-l!". Yea, I know. I'm not supposed to love cars. I'm not supposed to worship the loud roaring engines of those 1960's and 1970's muscle cars with their big block engines. I'm not supposed to freeze in my tracks when I see an amazingly engineered piece of German metal woosh past. I'm not supposed to be able to tell, by sight, the make, model, and sometimes, the year, of a car. But I do. I'm an enigma, don't try to figure me out.
I was born in the 1960's so I saw first hand the evolution of the American muscle car. The transformation from the boxy "grocery getters" with their small, unimpressive engines, to the stealthy, growling, kick-ass big block engines with the posi-traction rearends, squealing down the road. Not to mention, the hunka hunka men driving those cars! For a teenage girl with raging hormones, nothing was sexier than a guy (ugly, cute, it didn't matter!) driving one of those pieces of amazing machinery! I was inspired, to say the least.
Ironically, though, it wasn't the guys that caught my eye. It was the cars! I wanted to be driving those cars! I wanted to feel the force of the engine as I stepped on the gas. Oh, the power!! So, I bought myself my first car... a Ford Mustang. Now, before you get all impressed with a girl buying a Mustang for her first car, I have a confession to make. It was a 1974 Mustang. That's a Mustang II. With a four, yes I said f-o-u-r, cylinder engine. I know, it sooo doesn't count. But it was red. And it had shag carpeting. And it was MINE! I had my Mustang! I know I should be hanging my head in shame, who the hell brags about owning a 1974 Ford Mustang II? Especially one like mine. I purchased my 1974 'Stang in 1984, it had over 100k miles on it. It burned oil, it leaked oil....anything that could be done with oil, this car did it. Damn car. But it was MY damn car! And did I mention it was RED?!
This car, MY car, was my link to all things adult. It was my freedom. It got me to school and back, it got me to my job. It got me to parties, and it got me in trouble on more than one occasion. Mostly, though, it gave me that little piece of my heart, the little piece that, to this day, still loves the shit out of cars!
God bless those hunks of nuts and bolts! Can I get an A-Men?!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Behind our glass we'll sit and look at our ever-open book
Why do I always feel the need to start out every blog with an apology? Life can be so demanding sometimes that the length between blogs becomes protracted. Also, why do I always feel like I need to give an excuse? So, OK, I'm sorry it took so long. I was busy. LOL (and I hope you're LOL along with me!)
On Christmas I had blogged about my two little senior citizen mice, Bella and Sweetie. They were the surviving offspring of my wonderful little mouse friend, Martha, who taught me that each and every little being is as alive as I am. Well, I'm sorry to report that Bella died. When she went, her sister, Sweetie, was curled up with her in their nest. Sweetie knew Bella was not long for the world, she would groom Bella, bring her food, and would cuddle her to keep her warm. When Bella died, I was afraid that Sweetie would die along with her. For days, Sweetie wandered around her little habitat, she seemed so lonely. Sweetie has two next door neighbors, Lily and Daisy, who are bonded sisters. I had contemplated putting Sweetie in with them, but I was worried that they wouldn't get along. So Sweetie lives in her big habitat, by herself.
About a week ago, I gave Sweetie a big, fluffy pom-pom. I thought maybe she'd like to play with it, or tear it up to line her nest. Well, Sweetie did me one better. She dragged this mysterious fluff-ball into her nest, covered it with shredded toilet paper, and she snuggles with it every day. It's her new BFF. If I move the pom-pom, she moves it back to where it "belongs". Children have their security blankets or their stuffed dolls, my Sweetie mouse has her pom-pom. After she "found" this pom-pom, her demeanor changed. She perked up. She started taking treats out of my hand again. She runs on her wheel, she stashes her sunflower seeds for a midnight snack. She is back to being her little Sweetie self. I guess everyone needs a companion, and for Sweetie, this pom-pom is hers.
My first mouse, Marty, also had a little "companion". Marty was a tiny little baby when I found him. I estimated that he was only about a week old. I fed him, and he thrived. He was a contemporary of Martha, they lived in neighboring habitats. Marty was also a single mouse living alone. He loved being petted. When he heard my voice he would come running and I would give him scritches. His back leg would kick when I scratched the right spots...behind his ears, or in his little armpits. He was sweet and friendly and particular and greedy... he was a completely unique being. I loved that little guy. Well, one day a catalog came in the mail and stapled in the center was a fleece fabric sample. It was a little red square of fabric about 3". I pulled the staple out and gave Marty the little mouse-size fleece blanket. Marty was so happy to "find" this little blanket! Marty dragged it into his nest and covered himself up. When it was warm, he'd lay on top of it, if it was cold, he'd burrow underneath. When I cleaned his cage, I had to take his little blanket out, wash it, and put it back in...where he would drag it back into his new nest. It was his companion.
Having these pet mice over the years has taught me that all living creatures have needs. We all need companionship. We all need to love and be loved. We all need to feel safe, to feel warm, to be happy. I hope I'm doing right by these little creatures. I only take them in if they need my help, I only keep them if they want to be kept. Ironically, so far they've all wanted to stay.
Rest in peace, Bella. Tell Martha, Marty, and the rest of the gang I say hi, and thanks for teaching me so much.
On Christmas I had blogged about my two little senior citizen mice, Bella and Sweetie. They were the surviving offspring of my wonderful little mouse friend, Martha, who taught me that each and every little being is as alive as I am. Well, I'm sorry to report that Bella died. When she went, her sister, Sweetie, was curled up with her in their nest. Sweetie knew Bella was not long for the world, she would groom Bella, bring her food, and would cuddle her to keep her warm. When Bella died, I was afraid that Sweetie would die along with her. For days, Sweetie wandered around her little habitat, she seemed so lonely. Sweetie has two next door neighbors, Lily and Daisy, who are bonded sisters. I had contemplated putting Sweetie in with them, but I was worried that they wouldn't get along. So Sweetie lives in her big habitat, by herself.
About a week ago, I gave Sweetie a big, fluffy pom-pom. I thought maybe she'd like to play with it, or tear it up to line her nest. Well, Sweetie did me one better. She dragged this mysterious fluff-ball into her nest, covered it with shredded toilet paper, and she snuggles with it every day. It's her new BFF. If I move the pom-pom, she moves it back to where it "belongs". Children have their security blankets or their stuffed dolls, my Sweetie mouse has her pom-pom. After she "found" this pom-pom, her demeanor changed. She perked up. She started taking treats out of my hand again. She runs on her wheel, she stashes her sunflower seeds for a midnight snack. She is back to being her little Sweetie self. I guess everyone needs a companion, and for Sweetie, this pom-pom is hers.
My first mouse, Marty, also had a little "companion". Marty was a tiny little baby when I found him. I estimated that he was only about a week old. I fed him, and he thrived. He was a contemporary of Martha, they lived in neighboring habitats. Marty was also a single mouse living alone. He loved being petted. When he heard my voice he would come running and I would give him scritches. His back leg would kick when I scratched the right spots...behind his ears, or in his little armpits. He was sweet and friendly and particular and greedy... he was a completely unique being. I loved that little guy. Well, one day a catalog came in the mail and stapled in the center was a fleece fabric sample. It was a little red square of fabric about 3". I pulled the staple out and gave Marty the little mouse-size fleece blanket. Marty was so happy to "find" this little blanket! Marty dragged it into his nest and covered himself up. When it was warm, he'd lay on top of it, if it was cold, he'd burrow underneath. When I cleaned his cage, I had to take his little blanket out, wash it, and put it back in...where he would drag it back into his new nest. It was his companion.
Having these pet mice over the years has taught me that all living creatures have needs. We all need companionship. We all need to love and be loved. We all need to feel safe, to feel warm, to be happy. I hope I'm doing right by these little creatures. I only take them in if they need my help, I only keep them if they want to be kept. Ironically, so far they've all wanted to stay.
Rest in peace, Bella. Tell Martha, Marty, and the rest of the gang I say hi, and thanks for teaching me so much.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
There beneath the blue suburban skies, I sit
Today is Imbolc. In Celtic tradition, it's the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Today is a very important day. It's the time to clean out the old mental cobwebs and plan for the future. Spring is the rebirth of the seasons, the awakening of the Earth, it's a time to celebrate and be grateful. Blessed be!
Last week I had an ultrasound done on my thyroid. I have an autoimmune disease that's been wreaking havoc on my endocrine system. Last month, during a routine check-up, my doctor found lumps. Not good. I was nervous. I'm not a good patient, I hate needles, I hate doctors. With my luck this would not turn out well, and I had pretty much convinced myself that I was doomed.
So, last Monday, I was driving myself to my appointment. I play a little game with myself....whenever there is anything that may possibly have a bad outcome, I listen for a Beatles song. If I, by chance, hear one, I know everything's going to be OK. Playing one on my iPod doesn't count, it has to be random. I know... weird game. So far, every time I've been in a stressful situation and I've "needed a sign", I've asked for a Beatles song. If I hear one, I know everything will be fine. So driving to my appointment last week, I asked for a song. Literally ten seconds later, a listener called in to the radio station and requested to hear "Penny Lane". I teared up. Was this my sign? What if I'm deluding myself? I listened and I sang along, but I wasn't yet convinced.
Next, I was sitting in the doctor's office, waiting. They were running late, as usual. An old woman in her 70's struck up a conversation, I think she just needed someone to talk to. She prattled on, and I listened. She told me about her life, her alcoholic, diabetic husband who passed away. She told me about her three adult children, all stricken with diabetes at young ages. Her oldest daughter, Wendy, was seeing the doctor today, she's in bad shape. She's 50, she has a heart condition, a pace maker, she's on oxygen, she has cataracts, and today the doctors were checking to see if a new medication was helping the poor circulation in her legs. If not, she was facing amputation. The old woman said Wendy is the light of her life, being around her makes her smile. I sat there listening to the old woman talk about her family, they have real problems. Not self-induced issues, REAL problems. Wendy came into the waiting room, dragging an oxygen tank behind her. She had a big smile on her face, she was just glad to be here. The old woman asked how it went, Wendy replied. "It's in God's hands". They got up to leave and the old woman came over and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I hugged and kissed her back. After they left, I sat there by myself in the waiting room, thinking about Wendy. I really hope I run into them again, I'd like to know how she's doing.
The ultrasound technician came into the waiting room to get me, and I followed her back. A deep feeling of impending doom settled into my thoughts. As she was performing the ultrasound, the second one I've had in three years, I just kept thinking that it must be bad, this is taking way too long. Much longer than the last time. This is not going to be good news. She finished, wiped the goo from my neck, and said, very calmly, "The doctor will call you in a week". The Doctor will call me?? She never calls me. Yup. Not good.
I left the doctor's office in a funk. I even forgot to pay the bill. Oops! I made a wrong turn, drove for awhile on on "auto-pilot", and ended up at one of my favorite stores. So, I may as well shop! I didn't go in for anything in particular, I just looked around and ended up buying a few things that just stood out to me. As I was checking out, I had a great conversation with the woman who works there about spirituality, having faith. She brought up the topic, I mostly listened. It was cool though, I like hearing people's opinions on their beliefs. As I've said many times, whatever gets you though the night. Thanks again for those words, John Lennon!
So, feeling a little better, I started my journey home. I was driving on a two lane road that leads to the highway, there are woods along the one side of the road. As I'm motoring along, a Goshawk flies out of the woods, headed straight for me. It makes a right turn and flies right along next to me, at window level. I'm looking over at it, and I swear it was staring in the window at me! I drove, it flew, and we looked at each other. Then, it sped up, banked up and to it's right, and went back into the woods. I was numb, I just couldn't believe what I had seen. Was this my sign? Was the old woman my sign? Was talking to the store clerk my sign? What about hearing Penny Lane?? Do any of these have any meaning, or am I just wishfully thinking?? I was very confused, and still not trusting that any of this had meaning. It could have been a crazy series of coincidences. Life is like that.
Flash forward to last night. I get home and there's a message on the machine, the one I've been waiting for. It's a nurse, not the Doctor. Hmm, that's weird. The nurse says the Doctor told her to call me. I'm waiting for THOSE WORDS... "you need to call the doctor's office right away". Instead, what she said floored me. Everything is fine. I replayed the message to make sure I heard right. Nothing abnormal, the nodules are stable, and everything is fine. They'll be sending me an appointment reminder card in the mail, no need to see her again for a year. Everything is fine. I burst into tears. That's what I do, I'm a crier.
So today is Imbolc. A day to move forward, to focus on the future, and to clean out the cobwebs. My cobwebs? I need to trust. I need to believe what I see, all of those little signs that have so much meaning. I need to....I WILL... pay attention. I will have faith in this Universe. These little signs are surrounding me, surrounding us. I asked for a sign, the Beatles song, and I got it. I didn't trust, so the Universe gave me another sign, then another, then another.... It takes me a while sometimes, but I get it now.
Merry Imbolc. Thank you for today. Everything is fine.
Last week I had an ultrasound done on my thyroid. I have an autoimmune disease that's been wreaking havoc on my endocrine system. Last month, during a routine check-up, my doctor found lumps. Not good. I was nervous. I'm not a good patient, I hate needles, I hate doctors. With my luck this would not turn out well, and I had pretty much convinced myself that I was doomed.
So, last Monday, I was driving myself to my appointment. I play a little game with myself....whenever there is anything that may possibly have a bad outcome, I listen for a Beatles song. If I, by chance, hear one, I know everything's going to be OK. Playing one on my iPod doesn't count, it has to be random. I know... weird game. So far, every time I've been in a stressful situation and I've "needed a sign", I've asked for a Beatles song. If I hear one, I know everything will be fine. So driving to my appointment last week, I asked for a song. Literally ten seconds later, a listener called in to the radio station and requested to hear "Penny Lane". I teared up. Was this my sign? What if I'm deluding myself? I listened and I sang along, but I wasn't yet convinced.
Next, I was sitting in the doctor's office, waiting. They were running late, as usual. An old woman in her 70's struck up a conversation, I think she just needed someone to talk to. She prattled on, and I listened. She told me about her life, her alcoholic, diabetic husband who passed away. She told me about her three adult children, all stricken with diabetes at young ages. Her oldest daughter, Wendy, was seeing the doctor today, she's in bad shape. She's 50, she has a heart condition, a pace maker, she's on oxygen, she has cataracts, and today the doctors were checking to see if a new medication was helping the poor circulation in her legs. If not, she was facing amputation. The old woman said Wendy is the light of her life, being around her makes her smile. I sat there listening to the old woman talk about her family, they have real problems. Not self-induced issues, REAL problems. Wendy came into the waiting room, dragging an oxygen tank behind her. She had a big smile on her face, she was just glad to be here. The old woman asked how it went, Wendy replied. "It's in God's hands". They got up to leave and the old woman came over and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I hugged and kissed her back. After they left, I sat there by myself in the waiting room, thinking about Wendy. I really hope I run into them again, I'd like to know how she's doing.
The ultrasound technician came into the waiting room to get me, and I followed her back. A deep feeling of impending doom settled into my thoughts. As she was performing the ultrasound, the second one I've had in three years, I just kept thinking that it must be bad, this is taking way too long. Much longer than the last time. This is not going to be good news. She finished, wiped the goo from my neck, and said, very calmly, "The doctor will call you in a week". The Doctor will call me?? She never calls me. Yup. Not good.
I left the doctor's office in a funk. I even forgot to pay the bill. Oops! I made a wrong turn, drove for awhile on on "auto-pilot", and ended up at one of my favorite stores. So, I may as well shop! I didn't go in for anything in particular, I just looked around and ended up buying a few things that just stood out to me. As I was checking out, I had a great conversation with the woman who works there about spirituality, having faith. She brought up the topic, I mostly listened. It was cool though, I like hearing people's opinions on their beliefs. As I've said many times, whatever gets you though the night. Thanks again for those words, John Lennon!
So, feeling a little better, I started my journey home. I was driving on a two lane road that leads to the highway, there are woods along the one side of the road. As I'm motoring along, a Goshawk flies out of the woods, headed straight for me. It makes a right turn and flies right along next to me, at window level. I'm looking over at it, and I swear it was staring in the window at me! I drove, it flew, and we looked at each other. Then, it sped up, banked up and to it's right, and went back into the woods. I was numb, I just couldn't believe what I had seen. Was this my sign? Was the old woman my sign? Was talking to the store clerk my sign? What about hearing Penny Lane?? Do any of these have any meaning, or am I just wishfully thinking?? I was very confused, and still not trusting that any of this had meaning. It could have been a crazy series of coincidences. Life is like that.
Flash forward to last night. I get home and there's a message on the machine, the one I've been waiting for. It's a nurse, not the Doctor. Hmm, that's weird. The nurse says the Doctor told her to call me. I'm waiting for THOSE WORDS... "you need to call the doctor's office right away". Instead, what she said floored me. Everything is fine. I replayed the message to make sure I heard right. Nothing abnormal, the nodules are stable, and everything is fine. They'll be sending me an appointment reminder card in the mail, no need to see her again for a year. Everything is fine. I burst into tears. That's what I do, I'm a crier.
So today is Imbolc. A day to move forward, to focus on the future, and to clean out the cobwebs. My cobwebs? I need to trust. I need to believe what I see, all of those little signs that have so much meaning. I need to....I WILL... pay attention. I will have faith in this Universe. These little signs are surrounding me, surrounding us. I asked for a sign, the Beatles song, and I got it. I didn't trust, so the Universe gave me another sign, then another, then another.... It takes me a while sometimes, but I get it now.
Merry Imbolc. Thank you for today. Everything is fine.
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