Honking or Car Dancing?


Someone behind me honks impatiently.

Apparently, they haven’t looked to see a woman in the crosswalk.  Turning left would be illegal and possibly deadly right now.  I’m not moving.  The woman in the crosswalk is moving very slowly.  I didn’t know you could move that slowly and not fall down.  The weary walker is about my age.  She wears a uniform like the kind the clerks wear at Safeway or at Subway some place that starts with a capital ‘S”.

My slow woman is lost in thought.  She doesn’t look happy.   I can only imagine what her day has been like.  Honking seems so unkind.  I glance in my mirror at the honker behind me.  A young and pretty face is scowling.  Great way to earn a few early wrinkles, I think to myself and then smile.  It’s better than thinking, “What a jerk!” which is what I often think if the truth be told.   Today, I’m practicing being mellower. . . Yes, I still have to practice.

Recently, I’ve become very aware of how impatience affects me in a negative way.  I remind myself that no one put me in charge of the world today, let alone Vancouver, Washington.  I don’t have to correct the wrongs of others or make sure justice is served.  All I have to do is to make way for a weary worker trudging across a road and to momentarily protect her from little-cutie-wrinkle-face behind me.

Finally, the slowest woman in the world is safe on the sidewalk.

The impatient female driver behind me honks again as if to say sarcastically, “Thanks for taking so long!”

As I accelerate to match the posted speed limit, I look in my rear view mirror and the impatient driver  is at least a block behind me.  She is looking down as if she’s texting.

“Why was she in such a hurry?”

“Let it go,” I tell myself.

My son has plugged his MP3 player into the car tape deck.  He pulls up “Gangum Style”.  At the stop light, the kids and I engage in some good old-fashioned “car dancing.”

The woman in the next lane looks over at my son.  His hair needs a trim and the curls and extra body gives him a bit of a wild look.  His head bobs to the music.  His arms punctuate the air.

Shannon says, “Andrew, that woman is smiling at your car dancing.”

Car dancing and smiles are a lot better than scowling and honking.  That’s how I want to roll.

“Play it again, Andrew!”


Focusing isn’t one of my strong points.  I have a noisy mind.  Wild and unruly, it gallops here and there and drags me along with it.  This noisy mind is the reason I am very rarely bored.  It’s also the reason that achieving goals are very difficult things for me.

For a long time, I’ve wanted to rework this blog and maximize its potential.  I can’t decide what that means or how to do it.

There is a crafty, practical side that I’d love to express and share with others.

I’m a Mary Kay consultant.  My connection to the people in this company is transforming my life in ways I never expected.  This is something that should not be kept secret.

I love cooking and eating.  Food excites me, soothes me, fascinates and charms me!~

I’m a mom with an amazing daughter.  I learns something new from her every day.  She is a remarkable young woman.

I’m a bipolar mom with a child who is diagnosed as bipolar.  This is no walk in the park.  He makes me laugh and can break my heart all within a matter of minutes.  There is never a dull moment.  He is a remarkable young man.

I’m an older mom which adds a dimension to parenting that is distinctively different than parenting while young.

I’ve managed to stay married for over 17 years to a husband I dearly love.  That hasn’t stopped me from having moments or whole days when I wanted to run away to Canada and assume a new identity and leave him behind.  Staying married isn’t always easy.  I’ve learned a few things (but nothing about emigrating to Canada and taking on a new name.)

How can I take all these odd pieces and make them into something coherent?  Thinking about it all makes my head spin.

This task is precisely what has had me utterly stumped wordless for some time!  And then, I realized that I am the connection between all these weird pieces and that readers want to read about the real things in someone’s life: the successes, the failures, the hopes , the dreams and disappointments.  Keep it short, keep it real.  Don’t set out to inspire to instruct.  Just write.

So that’s my plan.

I recently read a blog post by a woman who had a falling out with her family.  It went on and on about scorpions and frogs and how some people are scorpions and can’t be trusted and will always sting the frog.  I didn’t feel very good inside after I read it.  Scorpions always give me the creeps.  I don’t want to go there.

The only thing I really know anything about is being me.  While I don’t always enjoy being trapped inside this particular body with this particular mind, it is what I know and it is what my focus will be.  Let the writing begin again.

Refrigerator Declaration

Brene Brown in O Magazine talks about the things she wants to make sure her children know.  Inspired, I created my own note.  It is now posted on the refrigerator.    It will help remind me what is really important when I’m losing it about the sticky mess on the island or the pants on the floor under Andrew’s chair, or the millionth Lego that found its way under my foot.   If I never found dead socks on the floor or pants in unlikely places, life would be really dull and I would be missing something wonderful.

Dear Family:

Above all else, I want you to know that you are loved and lovable.

When I fail to show you this, and I will, please, know that I will try and try again because this is the most important thing I can ever teach you:

You are worthy of love, belonging and joy.

You are a priceless gift from God.

There will be times and seasons of life when we will disappoint each other.  Love will not make us perfect.  We will stumble and fall but we will fall into the forgiveness and hope of each other arms.

We are worthy of love, belonging and joy.

We are priceless gifts from God.

No matter what we always belong to each other.




The Road Block Called Heartache

The title might be a bad name for a country western song.  It’s one I’m a itchin to write!

I’ve been really stuck.  The words have backed up inside me against a wall of grief.  It’s time to find away around it.

There is wisdom in the trite, “What is, is! 

If I repeat this as a mantra, will I be able to free my spirit?

Words don’t always fix things.  They can create problems especially if you go looking for them.  I’ve got enough problems.  I’m ready for solutions.  What is, is and it’s up to me.

Some times the simplest ideas and the least amount of words does the trick.

What is, is.

It’s up to me.

I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


I am reading

The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
0 / 170 Pages