In The Shadow Of The Iris

Marc, my dear friend. That was a good one. The no warning part.
*Gotcha style*
(smile)
And for those of you that come by these parts of their own free will, with full comprehension and understanding of the type of person I was before the Guest Editors picks.....well, you can't blame me!
~That's all I'm saying~
And if your new, well, I swear, it has never been proven that any harm or trauma has fallen a single visitor.
Yet.
I mean.
Ever.

Ah Oh, I'm in one of those writing moods. Sometimes I think maybe I have 'split personality writing style', if there is such a thing. I never know which I'll get when I sit down to a keyboard. As a prolific writer of the wanna-be who knows sort, this can create a problem at times. Which of course, is why I can explain the assortment of started, mid-way, finished and never gonna happen writings cluttering my hard drive. 'Nuff said.

Has anyone read any good books lately? Well, I haven't. Which I'm getting a wee bit tired of, to say the least. Why hath all the authors forsaken me... lately? If I have to skim another book out of sheer boredom I think I may just.....(complete the sentence in any way you see fit, as long as it includes fire, thank you)

Anyone? Anyone? Book recommendations always taken, embraced and savored like a fine piece of chocolate. Speak up, or forever hold your peace and good book. Please ~~
Fine print: I enjoy all genres. I am not prissy, nor chicken. Bring on the horror, the fantasy. I am not highbrow or low brow. (Although erotica sinks low enough I don't count it as actual literature, plus, I have children in the house here people) I'm not snobby or pretentious about my book picks. If Nora Roberts writes a good one, I'll read it and try to ignore the fact I think she has gremlins in her basement pounding out her 500 books per year. I'll read the Nobel prize winners, and the discount bin at Barnes and Noble. All standards have been burned with the last 10 books I've read.
P. S. I hold no recommendations personally accountable. Promise.

On the heavier side of life. I am finally justified (injustice!) in my earlier complaints about the snow. I spent the day taking a drive up to my cabin in the Mountains to get a good visual on the damage the snow pulled off this year. And let me say, Snow, is no longer my friend. We have split up, parted ways, flipped each other off rigorously and will forever be intolerable with one another. Snow, in all her merciless glory crushed in the entire roof of the garage. 4-wheelers, crushed. Camp Trailer, crushed. Should I go on?
Rebecca -10
Snow (laughing, hahaha) +20

It could have been worse. As always. And that fact, in a sad sort of way, helps. For me, it's a crushed roof and material items. But for others, who had something much worse happen today, my roof is nothing. That my friends is the truth and beauty of perspective.

It seems to me that in every single situation that has a person thinking 'why me,' a simple glance over thy shoulder provides all the perspective needed to assess reasonable reaction. I have never, ever, personally encountered a problem that I couldn't glance over my shoulder and say, "it could have been much worse."

I'm not sure if I'm ahead, or behind, or above or below, but I should probably just stop here. ( I feel that other writer in me sneaking out) Thank you Marc for several things. The element of surprise. The beautiful words you write in your own journal. The words you wrote about my journal. The writers you included me with.The gesture, from both yourself and Indigo the previous week, has not escaped my interior. Thank you..........

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Although I once again feel devoid of respectable chitter chatter, or type-oh-worthy material, I thought I would try "throw the paint and see what materializes" theory. I got up at 5:00 a.m., which is an unnatural hour, in my humble opinion, for anyone to be awake. But today seems like a good day to start early.

The first of March marks another seasonal survival period for me. January and February are brutal to my daily peace of mind. It's a time frame that has the ability to snake bite my insides and decay my smile. I suppose conventional wisdom could say I suffer from the cliche effects of seasonal affective disorder (S A.D.), but I would prefer staying away from any sort of labels and simply understand I struggle though certain times of the year.

Each year is different, especially with my growing surface knowledge and understanding of my own interior. It took awhile, but over the last few years I've realized, put my finger on it per say, that it's 'normal' for me to tank into darkness during the first two months of the year. The yearly goal for me, now, is to keep a window cracked open and  reasonable conscious perspectives close at hand. If I maintain that, I don't feel like I'm one step away from black despair of the indescribable ~~

This year I went the direction of hyper-manic, which made me a slave to my impulses, made for a lot of sleepless nights and unexplainable creations......but kept me productive in the day to day. It was a nice change from years of past. I wasn't swallowed whole by black corridors and silent landscapes.
I've kept the Lavender Black at bay...................

Permission and Patience. Those are the factors in my life that have made all the difference. I used to fight, kicking and screaming against the hooks of a bad day, a sad day, a bleak day, a black mood. I used to think something was wrong with me when those type of days rolled into my world like a fog. I used to think there was something immeasurably wrong with me when I couldn't control and maintain a daisy filled flower attitude.

It took awhile to understand I was being quite unreasonable to think everyday should be calm, beautiful and as stable as a mountain. It was rather pompous really, to think I could go through life without waves, ebbs and flows, ups and downs. Permission to feel as my mind wanders and patience to discover the next destination, tis my dose of Prozac.

Did..I just admit I have psychological issues? (I know, I know, you've all known that about me for quite some time, haven't ya)  I suppose that's a reasonable admission, and better then just saying I may have a touch of whacko within me <grin>  I haven't met very many people who don't have some sort of visible screw rambling around loose in their minds. Although I understand why I would like to pretend life is just peachy, it does make for a bland illusionary assumption.......
Truth threads its way through eventually, always~~~~

Wishing for Daisy Day's

And accepting the weeds as they emerge.

Rebecca Anne

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I feel almost a pang of guilt? No, not guilt, it takes a lot to self inflict the all mighty essence of guilt upon myself. More like, I feel like I better get my booty on this page, officially, since Indigo over at   Raven's Lament    put me up for a Guest Editors spot and I've failed miserably at revving up the writing and giving fresh material for visitors. Thank You Indigo!

So here I am. I do have a marginal reason for lacking off. A viral plague of disease and sickness has infiltrated my house and attacked the kiddoes. Fever. Hacking. Sniffling. The whole spectrum of delightfully miserable symptoms.

I for one, have not gotten it. But I feel like a walking, cursed, potential. Like at any moment the Gawds of sickness will strike me down for hugging, kissing, nursing and generally doing the Mommy thing, while they were ridden up in bed for 3 and 4 days. Unless the high content of Diet Coke deposited formaldehyde that has accumulated in my body can fend the bugs off, I'm toast~~

In other news, we had a mini-earthquake here in Idaho this morning. Evidently I missed the entire thing. Or walked through the momentary jiggle and didn't even notice. Which is sort of a bummer. Things like that rarely happen in my parts, so I suppose it's a big deal. It must be, because the news stations in my town held the TV hostage for 3 hours with "breaking news story" even though the actual earthquake happened in Nevada.

My town is still small enough to get excited, WAY excited, by the most miniscule of news. I do hope the people in Wells, Nevada are all right. As for the people in Idaho that felt a 'wave'.....I say, relax people, it didn't even really 'happen' to us. Then again, we are Idaho, we do have to get our kicks when we can.

I do wish I had something more interesting to write about. Being cooped up in the house has limited my observation and interaction thought processes. I've been left to meddle in my own mind and own devices for days on end and that isn't exactly a good thing. A good example of what happens to my mind and thoughts can be found in the video below....................................................

On a side note. If you had emailed me your address, you should have received a note in the mail from me by now. If you haven't, please let me know, because that would mean I messed up. I do appreciate all the addresses I was gifted, and after a visit to the doctor to unlock my hand from the paralysis that occurred after writing so many (smile) , I felt remarkably satisfied by the experience. Thank You everyone~~~

Ok, this booty call is borderline mundane and I can't be having that. I shall return again, and hopefully with something more interesting then quarantined plagues, jiggle waves in the dirt, my brain on letters and a sheepish goodbye~~~

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I have a circuit of coffee shops I visit. Coffee shops, I've discovered, are a perfect atmosphere to read, write in ones journal, write letters to other people, scribble in my notebooks and enjoy something tasty while doing so.

Coffee shops can be a bit pretentious. Especially if you show up alone, laden with important things like a pen and paper, or worse, a laptop. Usually, and I'll give it a 90% ratio, I leave my laptop at home. I used to be able to drag my laptop to coffee shops and get a considerable amount of writing done. That is, until basically every damn safe haven added wireless Internet to their menu. I admit it, I cannot resist wireless temptation.........

I go to these places for several reasons. One, typically, there are no distractions. There is no lint on the floor I feel obligated to pick up (like my house), there are no pets there trying to bat a pen out of my hand. One should turn off thy cell phone and adhere to Library etiquette, which never happens in my own home. I don't get distracted by pretty things, shiny things, noisy things, time sucking avoidance........plus, usually I get a good cup of java to sip at my leisure. Bonus.

But yesterdays excursion to the Java Shop was different. Instead of falling into my own rabbit hole like I typically do, I was distracted by 4 woman. Delightfully distracted actually.

Now, in case your thinking about doing the coffee shop circuit, Real Estate is an important factor to consider. Never sit too close to the counter. Stay away from the front door. Avoid sitting by the sugar, creamer, napkin bar. Avoid the spot next to the bathroom. A good corner, is prime location, but you practically have to stand in line for such a dream come true, or stake it out from the middle and watch the person who's sitting there for signs of leaving. The Lap Toppers usually grab all the wall tables, because they need that energy producing plug in. Yesterday, I was stuck in the barren sea....the middle......

The 4 ladies that changed the entire dynamics of my day were older. Ok, much older then what I normally see at the coffee shop. In their 70's? Maybe a mixture of 70's and 80's? I'm not good at telling ages. Hell, I used to think 35 looked so old and here I am, 35, thinking hey, this isn't so bad. They were also clearly on a date, with each other. A coffee inspired, mid-day get together. Dressed to the nine's, sparkling with jewelry (a shiny distraction for me) attired in individual, but signature sassy outfits.

In no way did they observe the library etiquette of hushed tones and quite chit-chat. These 4 were whooping it up. I simply had no choice but to pull out a notebook, start taking notes, sketching them and all out eavesdropping.

It was all gossip. Stories. Past and Present. Current affairs and salacious rumors. I would have sworn I was listening to 4 teenagers talking it up about everyone, and everything they had heard over the past week. It was wonderful! The eavesdropper/observer that I am was entertained for over an hour by these ladies. The things they talked about..........well, it fell nothing short of unexpected, remarkable, unique and sometimes downright hilarious. They were like busy bee's, buzzing around flower top topics, never pausing for more then a moment on one petal.  

The highlight for me was when, (After they had all mutually agreed that Hillary Clinton had had a facelift) they somehow got on the topic of Scientology. One of the lowest toned ladies there made a statement that produced, a blow of my cover, chuckle from me.

She said, "Well, I don't know who shoved that Scientology butt plug up Toms (Cruise) rectum, but someone needs to tell him aliens don't give a hoot about what religion we all partake in."

Classic, I tell ya. Bloody Classic.

I took over two pages of notes on these ladies. I couldn't help myself. It didn't hurt to look busy anyway <grin>  I really admired the way they bantered, and laughed. They laughed and gorgeously laughed. They disrupted the entire normal coffee shop vibe and I adored them for it.

I don't always take time to physically visit with my friends. We all seem so busy, so wrapped up in our own lives, that most months the best we can achieve is late night phone calls. I aim to change that. If just sitting next to 4 beautiful woman, listening in on their conversation warmed my heart like it did.......I'm certain doing the same thing with my own friends would do wonders, for all of us. I made some calls yesterday, caught a few friends off guard and gave them a time and the place.

This week is about connection, when it really comes down to it. Forget about all that fleeting romantic commercial crap. This week is a subtle reminder to keep the people you care about in your mind, and hopefully in your arms with a good old fashioned hug. I plan to do that this Thursday with my friends~~~~

And now, I would like to thank twopeople from our little community that surprised me with the Kindness/ Nice Matters Awards. Thank you, very much ladies. I'm always rather word tied, tongue tied, when it comes to such things. (now you know how to shut me up) So I will simply say your beautiful words are cherished and you gave me a smile a mile wide....

And I Treasure the Beautiful in Life~~

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I would like my newest entry to resemble light and fluffy, like a marshmallow. I would have said snow, but my love of snow is dwindling amidst the clear staying power it has around my homestead.

I've decided snow is just an illusion. When it starts to fall (back in December) your overcome with a sense of peace and silent contemplation of your surroundings. Snow muffles the hustle and bustle of life and hints at the simple things like hot chocolate, cozy blankets and Christmas.

However, after the snow has landed, and stuck like Elmer's glue for well over a month, it takes on a whole new essence. Stark. Blinding. Plain. Monochromatic. Being presented with a monochromatic world conflicts with my abstract mind. It breeds a simple cliche called "Cabin Fever" of the worst kind. I want the hell outta here.

Thank you everyone, for your well wishes for my Father. He's doing as well as can be expected. I've assessed the damage and told him to blame my Mother for the amazing eye shiners he has acquired. (She didn't love that idea, but I know I detected a smile in his swollen canvas) His face is not monochromatic in the slightest. The body can produce a brilliant hue of colors when aggravated! As for his nose, only time will reveal what he ends up with. At the moment, no one is saying a word about it's appearance. It's hard to offer up an opinion on something that has what looks like a million stitches from forehead to bottom lip.

Light and Fluffy. Fluffy and Light, like a feather swirling in the wind. I don't think I can achieve fluffy and light today. I'm just not feeling the vibe of such a squishy idea. Perhaps if I had more caffeine in my system I would feel the bounce of a light and fluffy day. Hmmm, now I'm just adding fat to some filler to achieve some filled up space. Not a good idea, nope, never, because even I know that comes off as erratic and sporadic and will land firmly at the foot of whacko.

Speaking of whacko, I would like to try something. But as I put this out there, forget I ever said whacko. Just clear thy mind and thing pink posies and white daisies, the vision of pure and innocent, nice and sweet.

As for that something I would like to try, it would take a measure of trust and curiosity on your part. Oh, and an email and home address in my box would help. That's right, I'm openly stepping over the boundaries of Internet guidelines and requesting the address of anyone who would enjoy receiving a note via snail mail. In case you all forgot, that sort of mail requires an old fashioned thing called a stamp, typically purchased from a post office. Unlike email (which I know I am horrendous at) , it's something I rather enjoy doing, a hobby of mine, (mind) I suppose. And just so it's clear, nothing whatsoever, is expected in return. Nadda, nothing. I know snail mail is my thing, and would never expect one in return...I am just of the belief that sometimes, occasionally, it's nice to receive something in the mail other then a bill or tree killing junk and I like to be the one sending. Confidentiality is of course treated like a vault.

References provided if needed...... from people (actual Internet friends) I've been writing for some time... (you know, to prove I'm not a maniac whacko)  So, go for it, email me, you never know....right? <grin> 

~~Carry On~~~

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I wonder if you guys out ( envision my hands splayed starting at the middle front of me, and then swooping out wide) thereeeeeeee.....ever write an entry that right after you've posted you become irritated with yourself (now envision me looking at you with inquiring eye gestures) by the content? Because I do, I have, and a good example is my last one.

The truth is in the pudding, my last entry for example, although my ailments are annoying, somewhat concerning and downright agitating at times, I shall live. I will continue to be me, I will adorn my battle gear every time I go outside and I will continue to flip off the sun with my middle finger in the most enduring way I know how. But my entry was simply the outer rung of a ring of concerns I carry lately. Not for myself, but for others.

Because, although I've always been vigilant about my skin care, the honest moi needs to acknowledge I had the cards of fate stacked against me to begin with. I know this because I take so much after my dear Father and he has skin cancer as well. Since I am fiercely protective, I would never blame him for my ailments, but there, that's out there as well.....Genetic Inheritance at it's finest.

His skin cancer is the most common of all, I actually have up stepped him by going straight to squamous cell cancer a level higher.....His is Highly treatable, won't kill him, and he's been dealing with it for a long time. But......in him I see a piece of my propensity filled future.

Although Basil cell skin cancer is the baby of the group, it has a nasty side and my Dad will start paying the price for it tomorrow. El Doctors Slice and Dice will be removing one whole side/half of his nose tomorrow.....(yes, the basil cells have grown fingers all up through his nose, tiny red dot on the outside, a whole party train growing on the inside)...then on Friday he goes back for more surgery to start the cosmetic reconstruction of a nose taken by a simple, highly treatable, non worrisome skin cancer. So in my female/mere human perspective, I have a moment of Holy fuck, that could be me, holy shit, I hope he's ok, holy hell, I'm worried, for a varied number of reasons.

This is probably far more detail than really warranted on my journal, but it's my party and I'll explain if I want to.......So, in order to recreate a nose, they will borrow cartilage and skin from various other body parts. Once that's installed, they will then start the long drawn out process of cutting his cheek skin and forehead skin in order to 'pull it' over the hopeful nose to be, and let it 'grow' for a bit with the help of balloons and skin stretching. Once and hopefully that comes together, they will again surgically try to create the resemblance of a nose. Brilliant.

I personally think that entire process sucks. Eloquent I know. But sucks with a capitol S. So now you know why I'm a wee bit paranoid and sensitive of my own sketchy skin future. It's akin to riding a canoe down a river, I am following my Fathers wake and he's hours away from going off a recoverable waterfall I will someday be going off. The difference is, unlike my Father, I skipped stage one skin cancer, went straight to stage two and I've had 9 (I think that's the current number) pre-melanomas (the Niagara Falls of all waterfalls) removed from my body...(my dads had one, uno)..and all of them are now swirling black and full of propensity behind my little boat.

Sigh. It is what it is. Well, now that I have that out and off my skin (pun intended) I need something else to focus on.

How about, I can't drink tea. I wish I could. I've tried, ohhh I've tried. I'm quite envious of people who can drink tea. I wish I knew how you tea drinkers can do it. I want the ritual. I want the fancy shmancy tea sets and a designated tea time to kick back and gaze out on the world.

I want to drink green tea, for all it's important health benefits. But when I've tried to gag it down I choke up, my eye's bug out and I run to the nearest sink to eradicate it's vile taste. I want to drink cinnamon tea's and orange tea's. I want to have an entire world of tea festivities and flavors at my beck and call, but alas, they all make me want to hurl.

I think it's really the ritual I covet. The, dip your little tea bag, or use those sweet strainers on a chain I see. I even want the fragile little tea set and I want to have a tea party...and I want a teapot to scream at me from my stove letting me know it's time to kick back......A forced focus of the simple things. There is little enjoyment to pulling back the aluminum ring on a diet coke. Sure, there's that moment of 'pop' a fresh soda can make, but otherwise, it's an empty ritual full of formaldehyde.

If I counted up the money I've wasted on tea over the years, searching for the elusive flavor I could learn to appreciate, well, I'm certain I could have purchased something that didn't end cold and poured (spit) in a sink. So, if you're still laboring through this long ass entry, and you're a tea drinker, I commend you, el lucky one.

I've decided to add Hospice volunteer to my little universe. I go in for 'training' later this week and believe I start next week with my first patient. I'm not sure why I decided to do this, other then I would like to believe people at the end of their lives might have something to say, and I would like to hear it.....really hear it. My understanding is I'm just a visitor, I can read to them, talk to them, and simply be someone who cares. I like that. The only piece I'm worried about, is the obvious, losing them in the end and that end is soon for any hospice patient. I'm not sure how I will contain that factor inside myself, but I'm sure I'll work it out. Has anyone else done this out there? If so, I would love to hear your perspective on what to expect.......................

Ok, that's enough rambling for one day. This entry should count as two, one for thoughts, two for sheer random space quantity................

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I think I've got the entire, "For every action there is an equal reaction" ...."For every choice, there is a consequence" ...."For every white, there is an opposite black" yadayadayada concept down. Check. Point taken. I got it for the love of...............

The thing is, I always looked at that piece of reality in the foreboding light of... steal a candy bar and you'll go to jail. The... do bad, you get the direct punishment for such a choice, kind of deal. Slap me, I'll slap you concept. But recently, I'm finally realizing the choices of good things can also come back to bite you in the ass, or in my case, my head.

For example, my first case of fun filled backlash. I have epilepsy. Evidence leans directly on two possibilities of acquiring such a joyous affliction. One, was the many, many head bashing's I suffered during my growing up years. Now, those head bashing's were simple consequences to some glorious fun. Cherry drops off the high bar at school. Bucked off a few horses while galloping across beautiful fields. A few accidental slips down some rocky mountainsides. True fun, that just happened to result in several knocks to the skull. The other evidence actually resembles the first paragraphs conventional wisdom. I did drugs in my late teen years. Lots of them, a huge nasty assortment. Now, believe it or not, the drug time certainly had it's 'fun' points. I can't deny that. But anyway, it certainly could have fried an electrical highway in my brain that loves to short circuit now. Anyway.....I like to lean toward the more respectable means of getting epilepsy, skull bashing's........

Next up, I got skin cancer last year. Not the bad type, just level II, slice and dice, laser, your on your way sort. Of course, as my luck would have it, I got another one this fall, I had that little ummm, squamous a-hole eradicated and now I'm on constant vigil. Skin cancer........the direct result of frolicking in the sun and fun. The completely and totally unjust result of living a life strolling though nature and all her glory. I'm utterly disgusted by that entire situation.

And now, just to add insult to injury, the doctors (or maybe they are simply blaming, but the result is the same) are attacking my fly fishing. For the love of all things outdoors....I simply can't seem to win. Now it's this...in my eye...Pterygium. Which is a benign growth of the conjunctiva. Caused by....big shocker here....Ultraviolet rays. And UV rays bouncing off water is like staring directly in the sun~~damnit~~~It's not an unusual thang' actually, I've discovered from my doctor it's quite typical of a 60 year old farmer who spent his entire life sowing his wild oats in the fields. (That's my point, I'm 35) ....visual bonus and ick factor..in their white and red glory. P.S. the Pterygium isn't actually red, it's a swanky yellowish growth (I couldn't capture in film) that has now enflamed my entire eye into glowing red, just to make sure everyone notices :o) Again, Laser is my new buddy~

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P.S. This concept works in many various places. Dinning. Home Depot. Hair Salon. Grocery Stores. If it's a service center....there's a manager who would love to hear something nice about one of their own and an employee who could use kind words to make the job alittle easier~

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