I have to get this blog written in May or there will be NO May posts. Holy canoli. Where did the time go?
I really have no good reason for not blogging. Let's blame Dancing with the Stars and American Idol and leave it at that (damn you David Cook!).
Where to start?
I had the most amazing experience on iTunes the other night. I looked up the 1978 compilation and every song, I mean EVERY song moved me to the core, hit me like a ton of bricks and transported me to a different time and place. It was like time traveling. I give you Jefferson Starship's "Count on Me" and Dan Hill's "Sometimes When We Touch" and Gerry Rafferty's "Right Down the Line" as some deeper cuts. This is but a tip of the iceberg my friends. 1978 was an unusually rich year for all kinds of music.
I've always known that at a young age I had a watershed of musical interest. Suddenly, I was aware of all the songs on the radio. I began to understand the emotional pull of music (thanks in large part to the "Saturday Night Fever" album I bought my mom for Mother's Day - for MOTHER'S DAY - hilarious!). I must have been 9 years old because the music of 1978 just SENDS ME. I suggest you check it out.
It's been fun.
I've also been cleaning a lot. A LOT. Along with that comes the admission that my house has been DIRTY. You see, first off, I can longer afford my twice a month housekeeper. So a few months of my doing the cleaning on my own has caught up with me. Then we got a dog. Then my kids had the stomach bug that kept them going at both ends. There was a week (those who are queasy of stomach might want to skip ahead) when I had my hands in the puke and poop of both my kids, my cat AND my dog. Enough already.
I feel almost obsessed with cleaning my house. Like the acceptance of a little dirt I had been working on suddenly plummeted and my baseboards, my baseboards, my baseboards! Who painted them black? Is that DOG HAIR? Is that DOG HAIR in my CEILING VENTS? Oh, and then I got cockroaches. You know how I had all that stuff in storage and then sitting in my garage for a year? Well, I finally got it put away and I was so happy and relieved for like a week, cause then it turns out all my stuff came back from the storage unit with cockroach eggs. Yes it did.
So I had to pack all that stuff back up and PUT IT BACK IN MY GARAGE so the nice man in the mask could come spray my house with poison.
While I was packing up my kitchen at 2am in a fog of bitterness and resistance all I could do was pray. I mean, Jesus! I don't want to do this, but I have to do this, but I don't want to do this. GRRRR. And then I had to slap myself. What am I COMPLAINING about? Moving all the wonderful stuff I own from my wonderful house to my wonderful garage and back again, okay...and back again?
Sometimes I just don't know about me. But, nevertheless, there I was. All ego. All disconnected. I was pissed. So I prayed. I prayed and packed. I gave it up. Gave it up to those without stuff and houses and garages.
And finally, I had the break-thru. I am cleaning up a lot of messes.
Sometimes if I take that one refrain that goes on and on in my head and just listen to it, really listen to it, without emotion (whining) and resistance, just listen to it objectively, the message can get through.
I am cleaning up a lot of messes.
I have a lot of messes to clean up.
Things are a mess.
Yes. They are. They still are. And that's okay. This is a large mess to clean up.
Luckily I have a lot of experience cleaning messes and I can clean up this one. It just takes time.
Oh, that's my kicker. It takes time. It's a process. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I'm listening now. It takes time. It's a process. I have a big mess to clean up. My life right now? It's about cleaning up messes. Got it.
But, I did finally get smart and put on a pair of rubber gloves so my hands can still look pretty. You don't need to have red, chapped, old-looking hands just cause your life is a mess now do you?
No you don't.