Lucky Sweven

I went to bed that night, feeling restless, anxious, worried about everything going on, concerned about whether I would be able to continue at the pace I've been going, afraid I was going to finally crack under the pressure of my life. Not even crack, but experience a seismic shift.

Sleep was a long time coming, as I stared into the darkness, trying to quiet my thoughts and force my mind to be still. Sleep, when it did finally come, was fitful. I stirred just before dawn, reveling in the hazy feeling of being both awake and asleep at the same time. I left my bed and walked downstairs, gazing out the front door, admiring how night and day collide in the sky, creating a misty, pre-dawn, pale sunshine.

A shrill ring cut through the stillness. Who in the world would be calling at this early hour?

I picked up the phone, my heart racing, knowing that it had to be something bad. Bad news to start the day.

"Hello?"

"Hi," I heard in return.

It was a strange, yet soothing voice. But there was something...something that was eerily familiar, yet not familiar. But it tugged at the recesses of my memory, gently prodding me to remember.

"I'm here," the deep voice whispered, barely audible over the rhythmic, electronic static that hummed through the poor connection.

"Where?" I asked.

"Behind you," he replied. And I felt the strong presence of someone. Of something.

I waited to be frightened, waited for my skin to break into goosebumps, waited to feel dizzy with terror, waited to give way to the scream that should have been building in the back of my throat.

None of that happened.

Instead, I carefully hung up the phone, cradling it in the receiver. Then, I allowed myself to relax, free-falling backward into two powerful arms that swept me up and held me.

"It's okay," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear and neck. "I love you. You're not alone. I'm here, and it's okay. You're going to be okay."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Tears of relief. And I felt at peace.

He held me tight, pressing my head to his chest for a moment. As he carried me upstairs, I rested my head against his shoulder, looking back, aware that his feet left deep imprints in the plush carpet. He laid me down in bed, and continued to hold me, stroking my hair. I drifted back to sleep, unconcerned with the fact that I never saw his face.

When I awoke again, this time to bright sunshine pouring through the window, I had only one thought...When you looked back and saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

A Good Day For Once...

...But Do All Good Things End?

  I know I’ve been the missing sister lately (well, maybe not as “missing” as #4), but that’s what happens when you live hundreds of miles away. –And that’s what I wanted to write about. I know that when I was home for the holidays, coming back to DC was the last thing I wanted to do, and I let everyone know it. I was tired of the politics, tired of the grind, tired of the infectious self-importance… I miss being close to my beloved sisters and our family, their families, my little nieces and nephew.

  But every now and then, a moment comes along when it’s not so bad; I’ll have a day where things come together so well that it almost feels like home. Tuesday was like that.

  First off, I have to point out that I’m really lucky to not only have a job that I love, but I have two jobs that I love. I work with great people, I work on real and pressing issues, and when I leave, I can always feel a sense of accomplishment –no matter which office I’m leaving from. Tuesday, like yesterday, was a Hill day, but first I should set the scene.

  Capitol Hill, 8:49am. I was eleven minutes early for work. It was cold outside, but sunny. Monday was President’s Day, so everyone had a long weekend (except me, I had classes Monday night). First day of the workweek though, and we’re in recess, which means no Senators and no suits. So straight off the bat, everyone was dressed casual and lax on hours. Really, there was almost a festive atmosphere in the marble halls, everyone in jeans and sneakers, sweaters and even some baseball caps. I knew a lot of things would be going on that day from the explosive news that morning, but I felt good hanging up my coat and listening to my co-worker Rick share random facts about maple tapping. (He and his wife and son went to Virginia to partake in this fascinating activity over the weekend and apparently it takes eight hours to get even a teaspoon of decent syrup. –Brave man).

  It wasn’t even until 9:30 that every else began to trickle in, and the raucous debate on aforementioned explosive news began. Jay was in our office joking up a storm (impersonating Bode Miller is his new hobby) and we were knuckled down on the day’s business with more cheer than usual. The Senate might not be in session, but that doesn’t mean the government stops working. Out-of-session senators were making statements left and right, proving that even when they’re physically gone, their spirits still loom over us. And staffers, of course, were putting out the usual fires resulting from those statements.

  Despite the day’s low-mid level crisis though, we ate chocolate cake, we were teasing –even about defense approps, –and everyone took a regular lunch instead of the eat-and-work trick we usually pull. It was absolutely marvelous. And best of all? When 5:30pm rolled around, we all started packing up. –That’s a whole hour before we normally do! Our goodbyes and cocktail suggestions stretched so long that many of us ended up leaving together for dinner and happy hours in the area.

  So we strolled down First Street, in between the Capitol and Supreme Court, the sky still blue and the sun just beginning to set (the days are staying lighter now, too). It didn’t seem as cold as it had in the morning, and I just felt so good. It’s the nation’s capital, I thought to myself. And I get to live here, work here, and at least for the rest of the year, I get to be a part of it all.

  Since Tuesday, it’s been pretty much downhill –although yesterday had it’s fun moments, too. The workload is piling up, and this weekend is my “big event,” which has encountered numerous unexpected hitches so far this week. But remembering Tuesday is getting me through. Because it’s never all bad, right? There’s always that good in there somewhere. I just have to remember to keep my eyes out for it.

A Word and A Story

Because I know you like a good story*

sweven (n.): dream; vision


There was a girl, born into a modest family some years ago, who was the oldest of four daughters in that family. One favorite pastime, as the children grew older, was the sharing of the previous night's dreams. The retellings were often fantastical, as many dreams themselves tend to be, and energetic. The father sometimes joined in, recounting his most ferocious struggles--the ones that left him tired once he awoke. A popular theme for everyone, except the eldest child, was one of flying. She had never experienced such exhilaration in her slumbers. She seldom shared anything of her dreams. In fact, she often went months with her mind a blank slate as she slept. And that was fine with her. Because, unlike the other family members, when a sweven came, it was not fancy. Held within each of her visions was a message, a truth. Often it was a presentiment, as sometimes happened during her waking hours. The sensation would wash over her with such knowing that she was often frightened, whether she was asleep or not. Knowing what was to come was often difficult to bear. No, not often. Always.

But sometimes there were dreams that were memories of the past--memories back beyond this lifetime, which were not so frightening, because they were over. She always woke knowing the difference. She was sad, too, because her own daughter now had this...whatever it may be called... this recalling of the past. The daughter of the daughter, when barely old enough to speak, told her mother of a dream...

But that's a different story. It's that child's story to tell when she gets older. If she even remembers it at all.

One of the most disturbing dreams of all though was the one that was about what was yet to happen concerning this woman's past. The event itself had not yet occurred, but it would be about her life before. The life before this life. Or possibly the life before that one. Even she was unsure of exactly which time before since she had been through many.

She was walking through a gallery, somewhat like a museum, but more of a place where things might be purchased. But the impression of the gallery was important. It seared into her mind. She was with a special soul, a friend or sister perhaps, but that was less important. Whom she was with was not imprinted upon her memory as this occurred. But the glass was. The glass and the underplate...

The pair belonged together. It was rare, perhaps one of a kind. It was not the underplate for a gravy boat (how common!). Not a finger bowl, nor a dessert coupe with an underplate. And no, it was not a horrible little mayonnaise (how modern!) dish with a plate underneath either! It was a goblet. The goblet and underplate were a set. And as she saw it, she was overwhelmed with hunger. The desire, the longing to hold that glass once again nearly sent her to her knees. That glass had touched her lips in the time before. She had held it with a gloved hand, and tasted the sweet liquid upon her lips. That glass was HERS!

She moved away shaking. How could she not shake? To behold a thing, not a mistily familiar person or soul, but a concrete physical reminder of a past life? It was terrible.

But not as terrible as waking. Waking, and knowing... Soon, she would see, with her very eyes, an object she had held in her possession once before--in a life before. For it was an item that she knew would be impossible to explain to anyone.

*no story stealing allowed

The Long Journey and Baby Lovin'

Who knows where the road will lead?

I had my heart set on seeing the Mighty Quinn as soon as possible. It was wretched to me to have to wait until he was the advanced age of four days old before I could hug my dear friend, then oh-so-gently get my hands on her incredibly handsome son.

The journey started off the way most trips with children in tow start off: not the way one wants/hopes. Normally, mine manage to be up with--if not before--dawn. Even a late bedtime the night before cannot persuade my kiddos to doze any longer into the next morning. But if there is an early morning appointment or agenda for the next day, the dreamland fairies spread an extra helping of snoozability onto the little ones. Yes, I wanted to get on the road early. It's a four hour drive. One way. And winter decided to come back with an arctic blast. But you see, I really wanted to be there. I'm not complaining. An hour later departure is better than not making it out the door at all (you never know when a child is going to come down with a fever or some sort of wicked tummy virus).

The drive was filled with winter in all its glory. As the children watched for animals along the way, and challenged each other to an animal sound making contest*, I drank in the landscape. It was beautiful beyond a thousand words. The fields were still--silent--in their frosty white, and drifts of snow had gathered up against the rolling hills. The barns, mostly red, but there were a few in a dark green, and one turquoise (the wife on that farm must be awesome), stood proudly against the dazzlingly bright sky. As we made our way higher and higher, the views became more breathtaking. You could look out and see hundreds and hundreds of acres of land dressed in winter's best. A littler bit farther, a weeping willow tree glistened as if it had been draped in tinsel. I considered stopping to take a picture, but there was a baby waiting for me to hold him.

I arrived with my crew and was greeted by my friend's parents and mother-in-law. The baby was having his bilirubin checked back at the hospital, so I had to wait. It was not long. After a false jump of excitement (baby's dad coming home from work), I was finally able to hug my friend as soon as she came through the door.

And if anyone deserved a hug, it was her. She is a great-beyond-great woman. We've been friends for almost eighteen years. She's been there for me through the ups and downs even though we've been geographically separated for the past twelve years. I know I would have been in a broken heap on the floor if I had to endure what she had to endure to keep her little guy safe for the past nine months. But there she stood, smiling, as I hugged her gently and practically pounced on her father-in-law to get my face close to the baby.

Everyone let me hog the baby for hours. Maybe it was because they knew I'd be gone in just a few more hours, and they are such patient people. Maybe it's because they love me since I love my friend so much. Maybe it was a little bit of both. But I got to hold him, tickle him awake so his mom could feed him, and then hold him again as soon as he was done.

It was the best medicine on earth. To see my friend. To hold New Life. Five years to the day--nearly to the hour--that I had to let go of Grace, after holding her just once... that I had to begin to learn to live life with a permanent gash in my heart. Five long years ago, but it doesn't seem that long. Just like so many other things in life I guess.

So, this post is for the Sister who isn't kin, but kindred in spirit. For the woman who let me snuggle her baby on such a sad, special day in my life: Thank You. Thank you for Everything.




* The annoying game goes like this:

"Snort, squeal, oink, oink."

"A pig!"

"No."

"A baby pig!"

"Nope."

"A girl pig?"

"No, keep guessing."

"A girl making a pig sound?"

"No."

"A boy making a pig sound?"

"No."

"A baby girl making a pig sound!"

"YES!"

Thank goodness I didn't have to play.

Only One Word

Because living in my fantasy world is really quite time consuming

droshky (n.): a Russian carriage

example scenario: Genevieve clutched the strap inside the rattling droshky. After all she had endured, this seemed to be the final insult: having her brains shaken out by a foreign carriage. But now that she knew he was alive, she'd do anything to find him.

Matters of the Heart

In honor of St. Valentine's Day, I decided to write about that little four-letter word, which strikes fear in the hearts of some, joy in the hearts of others.

Love.

Can anyone really define love? I suppose there are as many definitions as there are people in the world. There's romantic love, mushy love, lusty love, emotional love, secure love, family love, friendly love, and all other kinds of love.

I spent a lot of time in my teens and early twenties thinking that love was an emotion, an all-encompassing feeling that brought two people together in a relationship. When I first met my now-husband, I began to realize that, at least for me, love is less of an emotion, and more of an attitude. It's an attitude with a corresponding behavior or action. That is, "I care about you and would like to do something for you to express my feelings." That attitude/action may have an impact on my or someone else's emotions, but it's not a stand-alone emotion.

As I left my early and mid-twenties behind, my thoughts on love and the types of love changed again. With a husband and a new baby, I learned what it really means to love someone unconditionally...to love just because, and not have any conditions attached to it. None of that, "I will love you if [whatever]."

For reasons too numerous and complicated to get into here, my personal definition of relationship love has continued to evolve. As I struggled through difficult times, I turned to my faith for the support I needed and to my surprise, found some comfort in the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have done unto you. You know, treat others as you wish to be treated.

I think a lot of men and women speak different languages when it comes to love, but the Golden Rule helps to clarify it a little. I leave my husband little notes and cards and gifts in his car, around the house, in his work bag, because to me, that is an expression of my love. However, on the inside, I'm wishing he would do the same little things. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, "He never does anything romantic like that. Why do I bother?"

But you know what? He...shovels snow. And maybe, just maybe, he's thinking, "If she didn't spend so much damn time writing me stupid little notes, she could help out with the shoveling, and we'd have some extra time together!"

So, we're both doing for each other what we wish the other would do for us. I struck up a conversation about this with him recently, and we both gained some insight. We both want little things. It's just different little things.

Maybe the Golden Rule needs to go a little further and state that we don't just need to treat others the way we wish to be treated. We need to treat others the way they wish to be treated, too.

Two Letter Words

Sometimes all you need to win the game (scrabble) is a two letter word.

os (n.): mouth [pl. ora, both pronounced with a long o]

jo (n.): sweetheart

ta (n.): thanks

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! No! It's Super (Crazy) Marfa!

I am crazy. I suppose that’s a given, considering the title of this blog, and I am Crazy Sister #2. No, it goes deeper than that. I really am crazy. Cray-zeee.

The “crazy” reality hit me this past weekend. I was suffering (and still am suffering) from a particularly nasty bout of strep throat, and just didn’t have much energy. I fell asleep during the Super Bowl, but then woke around 9:30pm, soaked with sweat, full of panic, thinking, “I forgot to make baby food!”

What?! ‘I forgot to make baby food’?

Crazy Clue #1: I make baby food. Yes, I typically spend hours every Sunday cooking, chopping, mashing, pureeing, and freezing all kinds of food for my baby. Why, when I could just spend the sixty-two cents on a jar and be done with it? Because I am crazy.

It was okay, though, because there was still some baby food in the freezer, and honestly, I keep a few jars around, just in case. No biggie. I can do it one day after work, right?

Crazy Clue #2: I work full-time outside of the home, in addition to being a full-time wife and mom. This leads me directly into…

Crazy Clue #3: I teach on Monday nights. Yes, after “regular” work, I play with my baby, give her dinner, play some more, get her in her jammies, kiss her good night/good-bye and, while she’s in daddy’s capable hands, I make my way to the local university to teach a graduate class.

I don’t make dinner for myself or my husband on Monday nights (because of teaching) or on Thursday nights (because the hubby is off on Thursdays and he takes care of it). Okay, so…

Crazy Clue #4: I cook the rest of the time. I love to cook. I really do. Roasted chicken and steamed green beans, steak with homemade mushroom sauce and baked potatoes, Cornish game hens with stuffing and wild rice, baked salmon with carrots, spaghetti with garlic bread…and once in a while, a frozen pizza or hot dogs with mac and cheese.

What is wrong with me??

Crazy Clue #5: I think I’m ready for a change. I think I want a career change. But am I looking for another job or going back to school? Noooo. I love teaching (refer to #3), but I really want to write. Novels. Good novels. Novels with psychological thrills and steamy relationship stuff. I have two novels that are halfway finished.

Why two and why both only halfway? The first one, I got a little case of writer’s block, and then got slammed with a fantastic idea for another book, so I jumped on it. The second one is only halfway finished because I take maybe fifteen minutes of my lunch break to type. And that’s when I’m not working through my lunch break. But that’s okay. Why?

Crazy Clue #6: I love my life. The chaos, the pressure, the deadlines, the good stuff, the bad stuff…it works for me. And I manage my schedule well enough that I still spend more time in any given week with my daughter, than I do on work or other “miscellaneous” stuff.

Crazy Clue #7: One person’s chaos is another’s balance. I feel balanced.

Maybe I’m not that crazy.

Worry-free Weekend

The 48 hour Challenge

When I woke up Saturday morning and read the challenge to be worry-free for 48 hours, I thought for sure Martha had gone beyond "crazy." Did she know what she was asking? Didn't she realize the multiplying layers of dust in my house and an uncertain, ongoing, home improvement project was weighing on my mind? How on earth could I manage "worry-free."

But a challenge is just a grown-up word for a dare.

So, like the good sister I am, I took the dare. Challenge. I meant challenge.

After reading a few of my favorite blogs and checking the weather, I set about getting ready for the day. Thankfully donuts magically appeared for breakfast and I didn't have to worry about breakfast. It's OK to splurge once and a while. Besides, I was thinking about other things. I think a lot. Sometimes that's good, but sometimes not. Anyway...the closet project had been underway for two weeks, but it was nearly done. I wanted to help get everything finished-up (and cleaned-up). I made a shopping list and invited the guys to help me shop while the ballerina was at dance class. I didn't worry that they might say "no way." They came with! And I don't think I used any type of Enforcer tone. The girl danced. We shopped. Then we picked her up and went home to unload and eat lunch. I cooked, the kids played, the closet doors were being painted by my towel-destroying spouse.

I rarely watch television. Cartoons don't count. But the movie Mr. Hobbs Takes A Vacation was on. I became entranced. It didn't matter that every article of clothing in this house needed to be washed, some because they had been worn and others because of the encroaching dust that invaded the inside of the dressers. I watched Mr. Hobbs on his vacation and I took a mini one right along with him. I only had to ask the kids about nine times to "please move so mommy can see the TV."

When the movie was over, I felt good. Strange good. I baked a cake. I did the laundry switch while it was baking. The cake came out incredibly...perfect. Cakes don't ever come out perfect. And despite speculation in the nation's capital, none of the Crazy Sisters are the offspring of MacGyver and Martha Stewart. My perfect cake could have aroused renewed speculation though. Really. It looked that good. And yes, it tasted great too!

The closet was nearly done, I continued to launder clothes, I took care of dinner (OK. OK. It was cheese pizza, but it was a meal, and better than the breakfast I let happen). I helped clean-up from the last little bit of closet installation after dinner and by some miracle, the children were in bed by 8 o'clock. Not asleep, but in bed. WOW.

I was in bed for the night before I realized I didn't need any antacid for my stomach. All day, no pain.

Sunday, as usual, went by quick. There was one moment, though, where I thought I was going to go insane. It was after visiting a couple of furniture stores looking at bedframes. Don't ask why we need a new bedframe. But one of the kids was fussing over a straw in a cup of revolting orange-type drink. Normally I would have worried about how long I could take the constant chatter and complaining and random questions from the back seat. Instead, I grabbed the cup and offending straw with a "Give me that before I go Insane." I fixed the straw so it reached the bottom of the up. I gave the cup back. "There."

Peaceful quiet...for thirty-seven seconds. But it was enough.

I didn't get everything crossed off my list for the weekend, but that's nothing new. The closet is finished. There were sweet and funny moments. A serious concern arose Sunday evening, but it felt good to say, "It's a conversation for another day." Although serious, it was not life-threatening. And it can wait. Thank goodness. I had a dare--no, I meant challenge--to see through. The in-laws were not going to trip me up in the last hours. I can worry about them later. And the bedframe. And the rest of the laundry.

I made it 49 hours and 17 minutes.

Worry is a Waste of Time

Do you have days when you ask yourself, "Why am I so tired? I haven't done anything!" Chances are, you did do something. You probably spent some time worrying, and worrying is horribly exhausting business. Really.

We worry about small things: What am I going to make for dinner tonight? Will I have time to clean the bathroom? Are the neighbors going to drop by without calling? Can I wait one more day to do laundry?

We worry about medium things: How am I going to plan that [anniversary, birthday, whatever] party? Is the weather and traffic going to make me late for my appointment? Did I remember to turn off the iron this morning?

We worry about big things: Are my kids doing okay? Am I meeting the needs of my spouse? Do I have enough money to pay all the bills this month? Am I planning well for the future?

Combine all those worries together, and before you know it, the day is gone, and you're exhausted. See, worrying causes anxiety and stress reactions in our bodies, and before we know it, our cortisol (stress hormones) increase, blood pressure goes up, heart rate goes up, we're queasy and sweaty...sort of like how we would feel trying to run a marathon after fasting and being dehydrated. No wonder we're all so tired!

I challenge you to be worry-free for the next 48 hours. I guarantee you'll feel good!

Don't worry! You can do it!

Fortune Cookie Fortune

You're in charge of your own fortune.

I so enjoy getting Chinese food for dinner: no clean-up for me, lots of tasty choices, and fortune cookies. The kids like the cookies too and make me read the fortunes they find inside. My little guy had: Keep your plans secret for now. That is so up his alley. I was interested to see what mine would say.

You will try several things before settling satisfactorily.

What a boring fortune. I wanted something better, so I cracked open another cookie.

You will try several things before settling satisfactorily.

BORING. The third one has to be different.

You will try several things before settling satisfactorily.

This is not satisfactory! I want a different fortune.

Cookie number four: You will be unusually successful in business.

That's better. I like that fortune. And that's good because I'm full from eating all those cookies.



Aw, Crap! Did I just try several things before I settled satisfactorily?

Wednesday Words

Here are more unique words (so fun for scrabble):

frass(n.) debris or excrement produced by insects

cwm(n.) a steep walled basin on a mountain, usually forming the blunt end of a valley

noes or nos (n.) plural of no

No sentences today. But I just want to say, sometimes w is a vowel.