Finding Peace

What are words exactly? I find myself thinking about this often, pondering the meaning behind the meaning behind the meaning. Perhaps it is my gender that propels me to this - although I would like to think not. What I would actually like to believe...or to see...is the action that follows the words. The proverbial proof in the pudding. After all, constructing pretty words, forming pretty sentences, creating a thought and putting pen to paper is an art form in and of itself, is it not? The artist holds the tools with which he manipulates and contorts his medium into something visually stimulating and thought provoking...does the same not apply to the vernacular?

These questions lead me around and around again in a vortex of though. Always returning to the simple refrain: remember to breathe. Patience. Peace. Love. Acceptance. The breath. The breath that is life giving and sustaining and sometimes choking and stagnant but so necessary in order to live.

A dear friend likes to tease me when I repeat my mantra. How can one forget to breathe?? she will joke. And my retort is always the same...that this is a simple reminder to stop...to listen...to remember that we are only human and that we are doing the very best we can in this life. Whether that very best is effectively translated into the world via the written word or it is an eye catching snake bridge winding its way across Broadway Boulevard. To each their own and may we all be blessed enough to find our way into Peace.

All

Sophia is sleeping next to me in bed. Her small body so peaceful and angelic. From the moment she was born she had the whitest skin that seemed like it was carved from pure alabaster, so smooth and flawless. Her body twitches as she falls deeper into slumber, muscles slowly relaxing after a hard day of play. Isn't that what summer is all about? Sleeping late, camp, swimming, new friends, skin turning berry brown.

When life seems to be unfolding layers and layers of unknown promises and I feel thrown in to the mix without a life preserver, it is moments like these that I cling to. The quiet times with my daughters and I and the dog at the end of the bed. They are my heart...dog included.

I look forward to sleep tonight. My head and heart feel exhausted. Trying to sort out the meanings to this secret mystery we call life. It certainly can't be figured out in a day, right! But at the close of each day I know I have given my all and that I will continue to do so again tomorrow. Sweet dreams.

the art of being free

This fun story actually happened this past Saturday, but I know how much everyone loves a good poop story so I thought I would share it with you ~ the following has been adapted for the internet from an email to a dear friend...

...so, I went for a 4 mile run yesterday morning and came back to the house and was STARVING! The Director and I went to our favorite cafe for egg burritos and then came home busily farting around the house and yard when The Director mentioned going for a bike ride. I jumped at this since he usually doesn't go for the physical activities. We hopped on our bikes and off we went. We didn't really have a destination in mind ~ just riding along enjoying the beautiful weather. We ended up heading toward a nearby wash going west and he mentioned stopping at a bar and grabbing a beer. FABULOUS idea!! We ended up at local restaurant chain where he got a Guinness and I thought I would try their agave margarita. We ended up there hanging around chatting, finished our drinks and headed back home.

Well, we got about 1/2 way home and my tummy started rumbling...and I mean RUMBLING!!! Like, I gotta take a crap !RIGHT NOW! kind of rumbling so I stopped my bike and yelled for help. I mean, come on...what else is a girl to do?! The Director came back around and told me to just go in the bushes but we were smack dab in the middle of a development and there was zero privacy anywhere. That coupled with the fact that I was totally determined to make it home kept me pedaling!! I kept riding but in just a few minutes I was totally freaking out cause I knew I was gonna shit my pants. The Director was very calm and told me to "just be free, don't fight it...just let it go"...I swear to God, I thought I was going to explode if I had to hold it another second. Then I hit a bump on my bike and all hell broke loose...in my pants!

I was practically in tears and The Director was behind me laughing his ass off, when we rounded a corner and there low and behold was a portapotty that must have been for construction workers working near by. I jumped off my bike and ran. I have never had such back door trots in my life! I didn't care if every gross construction worker in the universe had crapped in that portapotty...I have never been so thrilled. Of course I had to get back in those nasty pants and slide back on my bike for the rest of the ride home. I don't know how babies do it but sitting in poop is the worst feeling in the world. It was the longest ride home ever...and I had a flat tire...WTF, Universe?!? The Director assured me that from the back it just looked like I had a sweaty butt crack....that and he made me ride down-wind behind him.

Nothing like shitting your pants on a bike ride with your boyfriend to know he really does love you.

tweet ~ tweet

I have long had a penchant for birds. In fact, about a year or so ago I wanted to get a tattoo of baby blue birds sitting in their tiny birdie nest, but have since changed my mind (too old, too permanent...blah, blah, blah). So, just this afternoon I was digging through some crafting blogs when I happened on this wonderful project. I think I may have my evenings planned out for me from now until Christmas, but I WILL MAKE THIS!! You have my word, Internet! Scouts Honor! Pinky Swear! Wonder Twins Activate! Onward ~ Ho!

art extraordinaire

In case you haven't bumped into her yet, Cathy Nichols is *hands down* the most scrumptious artist out there. I have long been an admirer of artists who use wood and paint as their mediums, and Cathy is the epitome of scrumptiousness in this particular genre. The above painting is titled "Aloft"...my love of balloons and ferris wheels makes this almost like fairy goodness magic right here on earth.

inside this pod there is much deliciousness

Early this morning, very...very early this morning. A conversation takes place between the oldest child whom we shall refer to as "Beans", the youngest child whom we shall refer to as "Corn Bread", and the boyfriend whom we shall refer to as "The Director".

Me: "GOOD MORNING, Sunshine!!!"

Beans: "Mom, you smell like poop."

Me: "Oh? Hmmm...hahahaha!"

Beans: "No, REALLY, Mom. You smell...like poop!"

Corn Bread walks in the room: "Um, yea...like poop!"

Me, turning to The Director for some moral support: "Honey, do I smell like poop???"

The Director: "Only a little."