Serendipitous Coincidence

Life has a funny way of telling us the things we really want to know, quietly sending us the answers to questions our human minds find impossible. After waking up Saturday morning with my mind full of wonder, jaw sore from anxiety-driven teeth grinding... the answers slowly came to me.

I was wondering if I was spending too much time alone, and had an unplanned dinner with my mother, brother, aunt and cousin.

I was wondering if I was spending too much time at home, until I picked mulberries with my neighbor, watched the groundhogs play, witnessed two baby doves learn how to fly, fixed my fountain bird bath that I had written off as broken, gave a neighbor I had never met before free tickets to a ball game, and helped my brother mulch my mother's yard.

I felt, perhaps, that I wasn't living up to my potential, then I finished reading the book, "Outliers" by Malcolm Gladwell.

I was feeling like the meaningful things in life seem to be lost in the rush of attainment and status... wondering if I was fooling myself with a false contentment in my non-material world; and I watched the movie "Seven Pounds."

I picked fresh blackberries from the vine. Planted flowers. Danced with the wind and sun for an entire Sunday afternoon. Profound? No. But somehow, these simple occurrences settled my mind. I feel a great sense of calm and contentment. I might not be able to provide a detailed map of where I'm going... or an elaborate agenda of what I'm doing... but I know that it's right.

Soapbox Confessions

I think to say you have "grown up" you must learn the art of forgiveness. I know most people expect you to grow up by your mid-twenties... but, hey, we're all different; and some of us really seem to like doing things the hard way.


I'm happy to say, that at the "young" age of 35... I truly started growing up. When we let the pain of the past wrongs, or the embarrassment of past mistakes control our minds, we prevent ourselves from living life in the present, let alone having any hopes for happiness in the future. Unfortunately, although time stands still in our hearts and minds... we still physically grow old. Bullshit, I say!

Anyway... I've had the pleasure of running into several people I hadn't seen in over 15 years, in the past several months... people that may have not seen me at my best. And how could they have? I was an emotional mess when I was young! And after talking with a few of them, most of us were! I might be turning into a "super sap" in my old age... but there is something truly beautiful, and liberating, about forgiving people for simply being human.


If you were to have asked me, even five years ago, if I would ever consider opening the lines of communication with my very absent father... I would have said "hell no!" and maybe even told you to kiss my ass! But somewhere along my journey through this crazy little thing called "life," I realized that every single one of us has had some sort of struggle, hardship, tragedy, or emotionally devastating event occur in our lives. I realized that maybe my dad wasn't a dad because he literally couldn't be one... maybe he didn't know how. I'm not going to say that his lack of involvement in my life didn't hurt me, and I'm not going to say that exchanging a dozen or so emails with him magically erases any past wrongs or regrets. What I will say, is that just about anyone will tell you that life didn't quite go the way they planned it to... and I don't believe that anyone intentionally makes bad choices. They do what they know... and do what they can.



Does this make it right? Of course not. But if we spend our lives keeping score of who was "right" and who was "wrong," who was "good" and who was "bad," we immediately slam the door of opportunity... the opportunity to love and to learn from other people. The opportunity to forgive. The opportunity to have peace and forgiveness; true happiness in our lives.



Yesterday does not matter! We cannot change the past. We can't change the things we wished we wouldn't have done or said, anymore than those who have hurt us can. But what we can do, is accept things for what they were... what they are... and forgive. Most importantly... forgive ourselves.



Of course I wish that things could have been this "easy" when I was younger, but if I hadn't gone through my own hard times, who's to say I would be the person that I am now? And although I do think it's sad that it took me this many years to be able to talk about those "terrible" things that held be back from being truly happy for so many years... I'm very thankful that I can now say, I just plain don't give a shit! I punished myself for things I had no control over, things I didn't do, things I didn't ask for... and if being blatantly in-your-face honest prevents someone from taking the hard, and painful path... or suffering a life in painful silence... I'll risk the gossip... the "oh my God can you believe?"s...



That's me. A peace-love-and-happiness-can't-we-all-just-get-along kinda girl. And if you haven't noticed, I'm not apologizing for that anymore. I'll proudly stand on my soap box and let you make fun of my obnoxious eighties hair, shake your finger in shame about the guy I shouldn't have slept with, or wonder why I didn't "make something of myself" sooner... because I know if you're reading this, you've got a big heart in you, somewhere (smile!)...


Uh-oh! That big fat clown is coming across the stage now with that big, shut-the-fuck-up cane...

'Bout to Bloom

It looks as if everything is about to bloom here in Mona's world. Potential careers, financial stability, affordable heat bills, and beautiful spring flowers are all slowly pushing their way up and into my life.

Just as I know there are gorgeous Iris blossoms in my garden by the fence... I still have to wait patiently for the timing to be right for them to successfully show their glory. I suppose this could be said of my job(s). Deep down I knew that one would come my way, I just had to wait, very patiently, for it. And just as the leaves of my gorgeous Iris blossoms are rising above the ground, so are my potential careers. But they need time... time to grow.

Saturday I sat with Chester. I turned the NCAA Championship on because I know he loves basketball. I fed him a sandwich, and had him sip on some pineapple juice in between his quartered sections of sandwich. While eating his last bit... he dozed off. Sandwich in hand. I chuckled a bit while thinking of how great a nap feels after you have enjoyed a meal; wondering if I'll ever fall asleep with a tiny morsel in my grasp.

I had taken my laptop over there to hone my Excel skills and discovered a wireless Internet connection. Score! This means that if Chester is napping I can utilize the time to get any necessary work done for my part-time job. Or, simply catch up on emails.

Once I had gotten home, I took advantage of the warm and sunny weather and cleared some post-fall-raking leaves from my flower beds. I absolutely love flowers, so despite not wanting to do the physical work, I was excited to unearth the bundles of green leaves that will soon be beautiful blooms.

Today, Sunday, I did a lot of my own napping. I was just tired! And if my schedule isn't proof enough that I've been working my ass off... then losing 3 pounds in one week should be! My weight loss wasn't planned, and I'm not on some "oh my God bikini season is approaching" cabbage diet... I've just been movin' and shakin'! Truth is, I don't want to lose more weight! I just bought four new pairs of pants!

Tomorrow brings another busy job-juggling week, and my last one without a consistent schedule. Monday, I'm working my part-time job, and going to ceramics for the last time during the afternoon. How sad! Tuesday will be my first full "regular" day at the full-time job, and Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday will be double-duty days. Saturday will be spent with Chester. Beginning Monday the 30th, I'll be working my full-time job Monday through Friday 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. and squeezing at least five hours of my part-time work into the schedule somewhere. Virginia was concerned that maybe she should only ask me to sit with Chester every other week so I don't get overwhelmed... but I assured her that I do not mind and don't find it tiring. Letting a 90 year-old woman get out and enjoy her life is worth any "inconvenience" three hours on a Saturday might cause me.

So "Desperate Housewives" is about to end and I'm relocating to my bedroom to pick out tomorrow's clothes and get to bed. I'm excited to see what's in store for me this week... and if I'll be able to bring in some fresh cut flowers.

Good Deed #14: Stop Counting!

Because I often have trouble keeping track of my own keys, and online passwords, I've decided to give my cluttered brain a break, and quit counting my good deeds! Fact is, I've done more than I have listed, I just find myself too tired, and feeling too self-absorbed when I number them.

So this last officially counted one, is actually two. One good deed for my mother, and one for me.

Tonight, all I wanted to do was slip in and out of consciousness, i.e. lay my lazy ass on the couch and nap sporadically... but I knew my mother needed her roots touched up, and I had already purchased the product. I'm pretty sure she wanted me to do them last night, because she asked if the "beauty shop" was open, but after she saw my eyes drooping and heard me yawn repeatedly... I think she didn't want to bother me. So tonight I called her and told her there was a cancellation and she could come whenever she wanted.

My mother hardly ever wears makeup... not even mascara; and claims to not know how to do her hair. She grew up with 60's stick straight long, brush-and-go hair... so it's very possible that she's telling the truth. Her former stylist did a great job with her cuts and colors, but she also worked where I was so unethically cut from the budget, so she quit seeing her. A display of loyalty? I'm not sure, but I do know that she doesn't need to go about town looking like a bag lady! I called my new hair guy and got her a hair cut appointment last week, but I think she has cut the coloring out of her budget too, so I am now her very budget-friendly (free) colorist. And I love it! Fact is, I considered becoming a cosmetologist when I was young, but felt it wouldn't stimulate my intellectual cravings enough. That may or may not be true, but working with a bunch of women who consider missing a Prada shoe sale the end of the world, would not have suited my personality.

I dyed her roots, washed her hair in the kitchen sink with the sprayer; blew her hair dry, and styled it. She looked great! And even those no-fuss women appreciate feeling pretty once in awhile... so her smile was suitable pay for me.

My other good deed is for me. The stop counting thing. I was feeling more pressure to remember them and write them in a blog... which was taking away from the pleasure of doing them. So, I'll stick to my plan to become a better me, a better person... and just blog about life as life goes on; no matter how good or how bad it may be.

Good Deed #13: Resume Service

It's Sunday. MY day. Day of rest. Day of cleaning. Day of eating and watching stupid movies on Lifetime... whatever I want it to be. I settled into my pile of life-saving throw blankets on the couch, and got ready to lazily decide what to do with my day, when I opened my email.

Last night, my brother and I were talking on the phone, and before we hung up, he had mentioned that he was trying to get his resume in order. He joined the ranks of the unemployed about eight weeks ago. Having played the "Resumes in Space" game as an unemployed person for the past ten months, I am very familiar with how daunting the task of writing a resume, and customizing it for every job you apply for can be. Knowing how unbelievably competitive it is here for any type of work, I didn't want my brother to lose the job race because of a bad resume.

"If you need any help with your resume, I'd be happy to do whatever I can. At this point, I'd consider myself a semi-professional resume writer!"

I didn't think he'd take me up on it, but sure enough, there was his resume in my email box, just waiting for my examination. My brother has a Ph.D! Unfortunately, his credentials are most suited to the auto-industry... which we all know is breaking down bolt by bolt every day. Some alternative careers he is considering are professorship, and solar energy design and production. But these days, us unemployed people are prepared to stock lipstick at Walgreen's to avoid homelessness... regardless of the magnitude of our education or work experience.

My last class at the university was "Practical Writing." We wrote press releases, professional letters and memos, business brochures, instruction manuals, and you guessed it, resumes. At first I thought the class would be a tedious bore, but the skills mastered have been rather advantageous. Learning the tricks, and silly unwritten rules of resume writing, like which buzzwords are "out," sure comes in handy when you are out of work and competing against thousands of people for lipstick stocking jobs at Walgreen's.

My brother's resume was awful! The information itself, was of course, impressive, but the format was not going to get him where he wants to be. I tried to just look at it, and then spend the day watching garbage on T.V. and eating garbage... but I just couldn't! So there I was... fixing my brother's resume, before I had even combed my hair or finished my coffee. I forwarded the revised version in a more appealing and appropriate format, with an email containing the "secrets" to successful resume writing.

Resumes are always critical to getting the job you want... but these days, many of us are simply trying to get the job we need! Now that technology has robbed us of being able to make an in-person impression, it is critical that your resume is free of errors, and in a format that stands out but is still appropriate. If you use resources at the library, or on the internet, make sure they are current. The resume game is ever-changing. There are actually trends in resume wording and format. If you can't afford a professional service (they are pricey!), at least find a few friends to review your resume, and maybe even find one that has experience in resume writing. And if you do actually have the opportunity to send a "hard copy" of your resume, don't forget that you have to have it on the fancy-shmancy paper. Don't get crazy and buy some pink and blue polka dotted stuff! Keep it simple, and professional, and make sure your envelope matches! Yes, this stuff is expensive... but it's tax deductible, so keep track of your job hunting expenses!

Good Deed #12: Hot Potato (s)

Being unemployed and freaked out financially for ten months makes the cliche, "Waste Not, Want Not" ring in your ears like a full-blast alarm clock on a hungover Monday morning. I grew up poor, and never quite reached "independently wealthy" status, so I am not a waster by nature; but finding ways to maximize everything I have, even though it isn't much, can be tricky!

I've had leftover "Ham Chunks" in my freezer since December 14th. Leftovers from my post-graduation dinner the night before. "Ham Chunks" is what I wrote on the freezer bag, and it pretty much summed up the contents. I trimmed that ham bone... well... to the bone! So here I had a bag of ham chunks, delicious ham chunks, begging me to find them a purpose, every time I opened my freezer door.

SCALLOPED POTATOS AND HAM!

Bingo! Ah-hah! Eureka! An excellent use for these meager, but edible chunks of ham. I fired up the internet to find a recipe, simply for guidance, because I am not one that will willingly follow a recipe. The tricky part was finding a simple one. Simple meaning: I have the ingredients.

I TRIED to follow the recipe. For a minute. But, measuring the potatos to exactly 4 cups wasn't okay with me. I had to use each potato entirely, as not to waste, so I exceeded the 4 cups. Exceeding the 4 cups of potatos, surely means you have to exceed the amounts of everything else, and since I was adding my coveted "ham chunks," and some finely diced sharp cheddar cheese to the recipe, I decided to double the amounts of the other ingredients. Yeah, I could have spent a half an hour perfecting the exact equation to replicate the recipe per my altered main ingredient... but in my opinion, that takes the art out of cooking! And who says the shmuck that wrote the recipe has the only solution to tasty scalloped potatos? If that were the case, why the hell does Rachel Ray, Martha Stewart, and that southern woman whats-her-face have their own cooking shows? Why do cookbooks have their own section in Barnes and Nobles?

Anyway... I cooked up my potatoes, ham chunks, and sharp cheddar cheese; and as the aroma filled my kitchen, then dining room, and finally, the living room, the longing to devour them grew ever more intense! I had to wait one very, very long hour, before my golden-browned, cheesy, baked ham chunks and potatos could be consumed. My brother happened to call just moments after I removed them from the oven, kindly distracting me long enough to let them cool.

I ate two small bowls of them. So very delicious. I had to share!

Mother had brought over a pan of lasagna on Wednesday to celebrate my new job, and I had eaten all but the three big portions I sent her home with, despite her attempted refusal. What a literally warm surprise it would be for her to have a heaping bowl of hot scalloped potatos and ham delivered to her recliner!

I had just begun watching "48 Hours," and when the first commercial break came along, I rushed out the door in my unzipped snow boots with my steaming bowl of potatos, and keys to mom's house in hand. This is one of the many little joys of living next door to my mother. I can deliver her a tasty meal, without missing a minute of my television program of choice. In fact, I even had enough time to compliment her on her haircut before I left.

Shortly after returning home, she sent me a text that read, "DELICIOUS!"

"And you can't even taste the poison, can ya?" I replied.

We have a potentially disturbing on-going joke that anything either of us fixes for the other is poisoned. The joke used to be an "out" in the event that the food wasn't very tasty, or someone (me) hadn't followed the recipe, putting the deliciousness of the food at risk right from the start. But changing times, require even jokes to change, and now I claim she is poisoning me to get her paws on my "wealth" in these troubled economic times. When I first suggested this, she immediately said, "But you don't have any life insurance."

"That was kinda creepy, mom."

Good Deed #11: Shovelling the...

SNOW!

It's Saturday. The day that I sit with dear Chester so his wife can enjoy the afternoon with their daughter without worrying about his welfare. Their daughter drives about an hour and a half to visit, and with our current winter storm, I half-expected Virginia to call and cancel. To my surprise, I heard not a peep from neither Virginia nor her daughter, so I drove off into the snow-covered streets for my afternoon "man sitting."

The snow was rather deceiving... small, wispy flakes that tricked you into believing that they were only there for a dusting of things... but there were so darned many of them, and when assisted by the blustering wind... they turned the sky white and buried the roadways!

As Chester and I settled into our Saturday routine, a nagging need to shovel the driveway and walk kept tugging at my mind. I didn't want Chester to think he was alone, and I certainly didn't want anything to happen to him while I was outside tending to the trickery of the snowflakes. But, I just couldn't sit there, able-bodied, and not shovel the snow.

To minimize the risk of Chester being alone, I decided I would shovel swiftly, with a keen ear... just in case. The shovel at the side of the house was some silly thing... I'm sure designed to make shovelling easier, however, this ergonomic snow remover was slowing down my swift shovelling for sure! I was now battling the sneaky snow that kept landing on the tips of my eyelashes, only to melt wetly upon my eyes. I was battling the wind, the wind that was making me unsure that I would hear Chester's cry for help. I was battling this silly shovel... worry... and time. My simple task was growing ever more complicated, but I could not stop halfway down the drive! What sense would that make? What good is half a good deed?

I'm quite sure that I was only gone for a short time, and I managed to get the walkways and the driveways cleared without anything disastrous happening to myself or Chester. I took off my boots and my snow dampened coat, straightened up my disheveled hair, and decided today would be the first day that Chester ate or drank for me.

I poured his sip-cup full of grape juice, and pulled a sugar-free strawberry jello cup from the refrigerator. Despite his earlier denial of being thirsty, he eagerly reached for his cup, and took a few healthy gulps of grape juice. Chester's eyes were examining me. His big, blue eyes studied my face as if he were looking for something familiar about it.

As he ate the first bite or two of jello that I spoon fed him, his eyes seemed a bit softer. Inside I was thinking how pretty his eyes were; a soft, slate blue, with a hint of his soul's sweetness in the light that sparkled about them. For some reason, the words weren't wanting to be spoken. But when I thought of how wonderful kind words can feel, I knew I had to say them.

"You have beautiful eyes, Chester." I said them, and it didn't hurt one bit. As I fed him another spoonful of jello, his eyes gazed into mine... as if he were wishing to say something to me. I've heard that Chester was quite a proper man, and maybe he wished to thank me, as most proper people would, but this mattered not to me. What mattered to me was that Chester was awake. He was eating and drinking, and thank God, breathing.

I've learned that Chester was a well-respected teacher for 33 years. He was a talented athlete, and an avid golfer. An excellent cook, and butcher's son, Chester taught his wife all she knew about cooking. He is a proud father, and grandfather. A good... proper man. And I just know that though he may not speak much, and even though he relies on others for his care... that man is still inside his withered exterior. I know his brain still holds memories, curiosity, and emotion.

I realized how difficult it can be to get our own needs met, when we are of able mind and body, and this is why I am drawn so compassionately towards Chester. I thought of how many times I had failed to ask another for help when I was in need, and wondered if Chester refused his own needs to avoid the same sense of burden that I often felt myself. I knew all to well the silent pain of feeling neglected, and I could never wish that for another... especially one who was no longer able to care for himself, knowing he had spent over 90 years dedicated to his students, his wife, and family.

Spending Saturdays with Chester allows his wife the opportunity to enjoy the afternoon, soaking up all of life's simple pleasures, all the while knowing that they may soon escape her, and her dear Chester. Spending these days gives me a sense of preparedness for the future care of my own family as they grow dependent upon the care of others, and gives me a great sense of comfort knowing that the power of kindness is... immeasurable.

Good Deed #10 Pictures of You

My contact with my "dad" has been a little sparse since I finally decided to allow him a little forgiveness and explore the other half of me that had remained so mysterious throughout my life. Apparently he had to replace his computer and that led to his gap in correspondence.

Letting my dad in my life wasn't an easy decision. He and my mother split when I was just under two years old, so I have no memory of being a "family." And I'm not so sure that we ever actually were one. During my childhood, I saw him just a few times... the last being when I was all of eight years old and in the third grade. I only recall one Christmas present, and one birthday present when I was very young, and a couple phone calls when I was 18. Not only was he physically absent, he was financially aloof as well. He never paid my mother a dime in child support. These days fathers can go to prison for that, but back then I guess it didn't seem important to the courts.

When my mother went through cancer in my early 20's, I recall being very bitter towards my father. I was looking for something to blame for her illness and had decided that maybe if he paid child support, maybe if he provided any kind of support... that she wouldn't have gotten sick. And boy was I going to be pissed at God if he took my mother, who loved and supported me as best she could, and allowed my father the blessing of life. He hadn't earned it, in my young opinion.

But time has marched on, and as I have made my own mistakes, I have realized that we are all capable of blunders in life. I realized that my dad certainly wasn't a superhero, and was in fact, simply a human too. All of the years of being swept under the rug had to have taken a toll on him... it had on me... and my brother as well. In fact, when my brother and I spoke the other night, he said, "I just don't get it. Here I have spent all of this time with my paternal grandmother; I have even lived with her, and she never once mentions my father." I'm not sure that we will ever confront my grandmother about the unhealthy silence she has guarded so stealthily for over 30 years. She's 87. Do I really want to unleash the painful beast and risk killing her with guilt that she may already feel? This is what silence does. It corrodes your soul. It leaves you in a state of perplexity.

Despite swearing my father off in my early 20's... and deciding that only a lump sum of back child support paid to my mother would allow him the right to ever "know" me, I now have an open mind, and heart. In his last message he asked for a photograph of me. I can't really explain why, but sending him a photograph of me seemed so very serious. Visions of him "seeing" me for the first time in 29 years conjures up very raw emotion. Will he cry? Will he be proud? Will he be able to still see the curious and happy little girl's face that he once knew?

It took me three days to finally send a picture. And although the resentments have been won over by a healthy mission to truly understand who I am and where I came from, a small part of me is understandibly hesitant to allow myself such a vulnerability. Somebody might get hurt from this. My grandmother. My mother. My father. Myself. However, I just can't be convinced that enabling this bizarre denial of my father... of half of me isn't more destructive.

I decided to send him a picture of me in my cap and gown on graduation day. A classic choice for a "parent." How he will respond, I do not know. Part of me wishes I could secretly be there to see his reaction, but I'm sure he will send some sort of response. I found out he is living in a nearby state, and because my brother is now unemployed and has time on his hands, I'm considering suggesting a trip to meet him by train. I can tell my brother doesn't like the secrecy either, and because my father is in his 70's, opportunities to meet him aren't going to be ample and endless. I don't care to have more regret in my life... and I'm strong enough to handle whatever end this story may bring.

Good Deed #9 Head Hunter

Earlier this afternoon, I was passing the time playing a game of Scrabble. Since I finally broke my 500 point mark, TWICE, I find myself that much more obsessed with maximizing my score. Needless to say, I'm not up for idle chit chat in the side screen, but today a fellow Michigander and I wound up as opponents. It's crazy to think that out of the some 14,000 in the world people playing Scrabble, my opponent happened to reside in a city that is only 45 minutes away. And guess what? She's unemployed too!

Competition for jobs here is beyond tough. The state boasts 1 out of 10 are unemployed, and some counties are even higher... 2 out of 10. It is tempting to keep job leads to yourself, but if I'm looking at the bigger picture, I want any and everyone to survive. Somebody has to pay taxes to keep assistance programs afloat! So instead of keeping my job hunting sites to myself, I decided to share the best performing, yet somehow not so well known, site with her.

"Thanks a lot" she typed.

"You're very welcome. I know how tough it is. So I try to help whenever I can... try and save SOMEBODY!" I replied.

When there isn't much tangible hope out there, you start banking on Karma. Now if I can just convince my utility companies to accept that currency, I'll be as good as gold!

Good Deed #8 Squirrel Rescue

I was on my way to my ceramics class... changing the station on the radio, when... I literally caught the tail-end of a grey squirrel headed under my car. Without considering the potential risks to my own safety, I instantly slammed on the brakes.

How I did not kill that squirrel is beyond my comprehension! He had to have gotten an up-close view of my tire treads and a lung full of exhaust. Right as the guilt of committing murder was starting to settle in, I saw the squirrel dive across the curb to safety!

Saving this squirrel's life was important for two reasons: I'm like Snow White when it comes to animals, and grey squirrels are actually rather rare here. In fact, about ten years ago, a man had written a letter to the editor of our local newspaper and blamed whoever brought black squirrels to the area for the demise of the local grey squirrel population. After reading that, I made a point to look for grey squirrels when I was outside. I didn't see a single one for a several years! And since becoming aware of this issue, I have only seen about a half dozen.

Not only would the squirrel have died, I would have died. I won't even kill a spider. I kindly let them outside to explore the natural world that they were intended to live in. If I would have killed that squirrel, I guarantee you that I would have cried... within 30 seconds, and I would have carried some guilt about it for quite some time. So I suppose the squirrel should get credit for a good deed as well. Had he not been capable of leaping like a gazelle escaping the jaws of a hungry lion, I would have gone into a temporary depression, and been psychologically damaged by the vision of his squirrel parts splattered on the pavement.

Just Another Manic Monday

What a Monday! Most people hate Mondays. I personally have never been one to discriminate... and usually love (or hate) all days equally. But, this Monday has been fantastic!

I felt well rested when I woke up.

I had time for a workout, breakfast and coffee before I left.

I miraculously missed hitting a cute little grey squirrel and didn't get whiplash from the sudden slamming of the brakes.

Two of my ceramics pieces turned out fucking amazing!

My remaining tax documents arrived in the mail.

I got a message about a potential job!

Met my goal of 500 or higher in Scrabble! (Yes, I am fully aware that I am a nerd.)

Two people are already watching an item I have listed on Ebay.

And... I'm not starving to death, freezing to death (although without 3 layers of clothes I would be), dying, or being foreclosed on, and I have some absolutely fabulous friends. (Thanks friends!)

Good Deed #7 Laundry Service

Today was my first day sitting with the elderly man while his wife got to spend some much-needed time outside of the house. Her daughter had driven up-state to spend the afternoon with her parents. Both are in their 90's. Unfortunately, Chester suffered a heart attack, followed by a few strokes, and is now left to spend his days in a chair or bed. He is entirely dependent on the care of others. However, his wife is very mobile, and still has "her wits" about her. Due to his need to be supervised, Virginia has not left the house in two years.

I found myself a little overwhelmed at the bittersweetness of their elderly life. Both were teachers for over 30 years and the hallways were dotted with pictures capturing those teachable moments I'm very sure they both cherished. They raised children, had grandchildren, and have been married for over 60 years. Their home was full of love in the form of photographs, momentos, and a piano with the songbook for a love song. I began wondering how Chester feels... how aware he is, and if his dependent life offers him much happiness. I wanted to know about him. What he liked to watch. What music he listened to. If he would enjoy my reading a book to him.

Before Virginia and her daughter left, her daughter said, "There's laundry in the washer and dryer. You don't have to take care of it if you don't want to, but if you do you can just lay the laundry on the ironing board."

Of course I'll take care of the laundry, I thought. I was actually quite happy to. And instead of simply plunking it on the ironing board, I folded everything and placed it in piles accordingly. It was strangely satisfying.

Chester nodded off while I was writing overdue thank you notes. I kept a close watch on him, and each time he wiggled his toes, I looked to see if he was awake. At one point, he did in fact lift his head, and I went over to see if he needed a sip of his juice.

"Hi Chester. I'm Mona, Pat's friend. Are you thirsty?"

To my surprise, he said no. I was under the impression that Chester didn't speak.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No, not that I can think of right now." He replied.

I was pleasantly surprised. So happy that he was able to speak. Maybe after I become more familiar to him, I will ask him if he would like me to read, or find something that he would like to do that stimulates his mind a little. I let him know that I was nearby in case he needed something and returned to my thank you notes.

Once the mother and daughter returned, I couldn't help but notice the glow on Virginia's face. "I just can't believe all of the changes, and the new things!" They had gone to breakfast, stopped by a relative's house, and gotten groceries. Her three hour escape had literally brightened her day. She was so thrilled with her time out in the "real world" that she asked if I would come by again next Saturday. Of course, I will.

Not only do I love helping people, I love helping elderly people. I have always been passionate about their quality of life, and how they are treated. Virginia reminds me of my grandmother on my dad's side... very very sharp and active, despite being in her 90's. Providing her with the peace of mind necessary to allow her to get out and enjoy a little life, especially when she doesn't have as much life to look forward to as others, made me so happy. I can't really describe all of the emotions I felt, but I can say that it was a very rewarding experience, and I look forward to getting to know them both better... and folding more laundry.

Naughty Me...

I'm being naughty. Staying up past my "bedtime." I was playing Scrabble against "HottieScottie13" and lost my connection, so I somehow decided that it was imperative for me to go through my cluttered email box. Why isn't going to bed on my to do list?

I wanted to mention that I have not forgotten my good deeds... well, literally I have forgotten to mention them. But... they are still on my mind and still a goal to get through this crazy economic disaster. Instead of trying to recall my silly episodes of kindness... I do want to mention my recent failure to perform a good deed.

Driving home from one of my "busy" days earlier this week, I passed a woman trying to shovel her driveway. Her face bore an expression of struggle, and because my neighbors tend to my snow-covered walks quite often, I thought it my turn to help someone else with the snow. But as I rounded the corner to my own street, I began to find quite trivial reasons NOT to help.

If I walk back with my shovel, it might take too long. (I'm sure she still would have been shovelling.)

And the interesting excuse...

What if she doesn't welcome my help?

Who wouldn't welcome help shovelling snow?! I've been thinking about this for days. I do believe that one reason people don't help one another more readily is because our lives have become so cluttered and self-seeking, that strangers do in fact become strange to us. What would she really have done to me? Push my face in the snow and cuss me out for being so nice? I would have had a shovel in hand to defend myself! And since one of my goals is to help preserve the safety and pleasantries of the neighborhood, why didn't I march right down the street to help her?

Tomorrow, I'm going to an elderly couple's house with a woman who cares for a 92 year old man. I'm going to meet the couple, because Saturday I will be staying there for a couple hours while the wife gets out for some much-needed her time. I am honestly a little nervous about it, considering the woman who cares for the man said, "All you can do is sit. He can't be left alone. If he happens to fall out of his chair, there is literally nothing you can do. And he has a "do not resucitate" order, so if for some reason he stops breathing... there is nothing you can do." I'm hoping neither situation occurs!

I was able to attend the open studio time today for ceramics. I trimmed up all three of my plates, painted little wildflowers on one, and decided to leave the other one plain before glazing. Afterwards, I found myself lacking inspiration and direction. So, I rolled out a big chunk of clay, layed it on the table in front of me, and waited for it to trigger an idea in my brain. I almost settled for more plates, although different in shape, but, I decided to place three of the forms next to each other and cut the clay around the edges. It has created a very interesting geometrical shape, that will become a wall hanging. Susan, a VERY talented artist, came over to admire what I was doing, and said she really liked the shape. Anytime Susan likes my work... well, it's like making your parents proud. One of these days, I'll remember to take my camera so I can share the "dirty" things I do in ceramics.

Good Deed #6- Above the Call of Duty

Before I was leaving the remodel, the new tenant pulled into the garage. I made a point to ask him how things were going in his new place. He was just getting home from work and had to move in during near blizzard conditions. A little frazzled he looked.

Apparently there is some type of leak in the bathroom and he can't get adequate water pressure in the kitchen.

"Do I call Barb for that? Is that who I talk to?" he asked.

Barb is the neighbor of the rental property, and a friend of the owner. Normally, she might handle that sort of thing, but since I was there, I decided to take care of it myself. I called Todd, made sure he was going to be on-site tomorrow, and let the tenant know we'd have it fixed.

Little did I know that the property owner is having the "week from hell." She found out today that she won't have a job next year. Her position is being cut from the budget. However, they are having her run the entire building alone this week, which could mean she's going to get a promotion. Hopefully, the latter is the truth. Regardless, she was very grateful that I handled a potential problem for her.

Twas the right thing to do... I say!

Good Deed #5- Compassion for Strangers

"Sharon" was one of the three people who came by last night to see the rental unit. She had arrived early, and was very apologetic for doing so. During her showing, Sharon disclosed that she is moving to an apartment due to a pending separation/divorce from her husband of 28 years.

Sharon is rightfully concerned, and somewhat afraid of what the future holds. She hasn't lived alone in over two decades, her family is unaware of her pending decision, and she has not a single possession to call her own. A quiet despair can be seen in her light green eyes.

She has no clue where to begin...

I have been through difficult times, alone, and with support. The difficult times with the support of friends and family have always been easier to bear. Because Sharon is enduring this transition in secrecy, she is alone.

I decided to offer her not only a kind ear, but reassurance that we would help her with whatever she may need. We will help her move, select and find furniture, introduce her to her neighbors, and walk her through every step she's about to take.

Regardless of whether or not the owner selects her as a tenant, I'm going to make a point to make good on my offers. She has enough to deal with, and if a little kindness and compassion provides her with a little comfort, I think her outlook on the future will be a more positive one.

Good Deed #4- Listening

My new remodel teammember, Bill, and I exchanged phone numbers today, along with a promise that we would help each other survive the economy by sharing jobs.

My phone rang shortly after I began cooking my lunch/dinner. It was Bill. Did we forget something on the job?

Nope.

Bill "needed someone to talk to." Apparently Bill's girlfriend has been a little aloof and he just wanted someone "who didn't know all of his business" to listen.

So I did.

I didn't quite figure out what the fuss was about, but Bill magically felt better after getting whatever it was off his chest. I've been there myself, wishing you had someone that would just listen; so I was happy to oblige. Sure, I had a lot of things I wanted and needed to do, but it was time for a good deed, and Bill seems like a deservingly good guy.

Another win-win.

Good Deed #3- Share the "Wealth"

Today was the first day on the job for my latest remodelling adventure. I'm working in a unit that is almost exactly like the last one... only this time, I got the green light to make improvements to every room! I literally skipped eating breakfast because I was so excited to get there and begin the transformation.

When I arrived, my demo partner had a guy with him. The two tough guys tore out the old surround in the shower, ripped out the creepy sink and demolished the poorly intstalled tile "trim." I was doing the delicate work: painting the front bedroom. The color looks amazing! I chose Valspar's "Outlands Subtle Taupe" (6005-1B), which is approved by the National Trust For Historic Preservation. It's a nice change from the barely-beige, and a rental-friendly color.

While I was on the ladder, "Bill" approached me with a proposition. It seems Bill is unemployed as well, and like me, in serious need of cash. Bill wants to help me out with some painting. As much as I would like to hoard all of the work hours and as a result, have more money to support myself... I know exactly what Bill is going through, and if I were him, I wouldn't want to hear "no."

So, I took my personal wants and needs out of the picture. If I share the "wealth" with Bill, the project will be completed sooner, which means the unit can be rented sooner. The sooner the unit rents, the sooner the owner has more money. The sooner the owner has more money, the sooner I get more work. And if I share the hours with Bill... I've done a good deed.

Done deal.

I checked in with the owner on the drive home. She's a little nervous about the renovation costs, but being a good sport about the spending. I absolutely love working with her. Times are tough for everyone, and sacrifices have to be made to survive. She has asked me to do some administrative-type work for her, in addition to the remodel. I gave it some thought, and decided to voluntarily lower my pay rate for the "office" work. Again, she has to have money to support herself and her properties, and the more money she has, the more opportunities I will have to continue to work for her. It just seemed fair. The right thing to do.

I thought about counting that as two good deeds in one day... but I want to keep the momentum going. I don't want this spirit to end too soon. Although I have yet to help an old lady across the street, or give a homeless person a sandwich, I'm enjoying focusing on what I can do for others, instead of focusing on myself.

Good Deed #2- Free Life Coach

Although this good deed is going to cost me three good days of progress towards a "normal" sleep schedule, I feel pretty damned good about this one. I happened to see one of my sporadic online chat buddies on Messenger and thought I'd say hello. I didn't really feel like "talking," but I'm sure a lot of people haven't really felt like talking to me and they suffered through it!

Well midway through the conversation, "Travis" was checking out some of my photos from my recent trip. He complimented me on them, which I appreciated, but then I chose to turn the focus onto him. See, Travis is like myself, and a few other people I'm friends with. Travis is a truly creative soul that was talked out of, and discouraged from being who and what he was, in order to make other people happy in order to become a more "successful" something-or-another. This is a slow and painful "death" for creative folk. The fear of rejection, and lack of support, leads most of us to depression, and at the very least, a nagging inner confusion.

"I spent 28 years of my life doing what other people wanted me to, and the last 9 years cleaning up THAT disaster," I shared.

Though we have talked many times... Travis never opened up about his own rejection as a creative child. He had an "ah-ha" moment, and went into a beautiful babble-fest about the freedom he felt after talking about this. I promised to adopt him into my creative-yet-somewhat-lost soul family.

Now he's sleeping, and I'm up watching the end of the 6 a.m. news... but knowing that he's going to do SOMETHING that honors his creative inner soul will bring me a silent joy that will surely be rewarded with a good day's rest, and a little dose of my own inspiration.

Good Deed #1- Beautiful!

One of my goals for the New Year is perform at least 365 good deeds. These deeds may be simple, or complex, for strangers, or friends and family. The only requirement is that they are "good." Although I have always enjoyed volunteering and helping people, I felt I could have done a lot more of these things last year. So to encourage my good-deediness, I will be reporting my good deeds to my dear readers.

Good Deed #1:

My marvelous mother had grown two inches of gray roots on her head. Since abandoning her stylist in protest of my tragic job loss, she has been coloring her own hair. However, she has difficulty applying the color in some areas. I secretly wanted to be a hair-stylist when I was young, and I definitely love my mother, so letting her wander around looking like a half-crazed old lady would just be cruel!

Despite being quite tired and having "other things to do," I phoned mother last night and invited her to my "beauty shop." Not only did I color her hair, I blow-dryed and styled it for her. Had she gone to the salon, this would have cost her at least $85. I happily did it for free, and enjoyed the time we spent together.