Spring

The beauty of Spring sometimes overwhelms me.  The varying shades of green.  Have you noticed?  It's not just one color - - - it's a myriad of gorgeousness.

And the birds.  Each song is different.  Unique and inspiring.  Inspiring and ubiquitous (never used that word before in a sentence.  May never again).

The rebirth of everything is what gets me about Spring.

And the birds and squirrels and bears and raccoons might have had a tough winter - - - they might have fought with their spouses over nuts and berries and such; they might have had too many nights of darkness and cold; they might have even forgotten to take a deep breath of the potent winter air.

But Spring.

It makes you look.

Spring makes you just breathe.  Take it all in.  Look up.  The sky is beautiful.  Look down.  The grass is new and so green.  Look around.  The red, the blue, the brown, the white, the gray birds are all around.  Open the windows.  The warm breeze on your skin.  The hot sun on arms so white.

Spring.

It's nice. 

It's new.

And the darkness of past winters seems more distant in the Spring.  The darkness of winters past, though still a memory, is, well, just a memory - - - sometimes, many times, painful - - - but a memory.

I like Spring.

Look up.  Look down.  Look all around.

There are so many varying shades of green.

Promise to Me, Promise to You

I spent the early morning hours reviewing a contract for work.  It wasn't because I was so excited to do it, that I did it.  It was because I knew that if I spent from 5:30AM - 7:30AM doing it, I would have extra time in the evening to spend with the kids.  I had imposed my own deadline on when the contract needed to be done, and the only way to meet that deadline was to sacrifice my early morning ritual of sipping coffee, listening to music, working out on the elliptical (once in a while, it does happen) and perhaps writing a bit.  I made a promise to myself and I kept it.

After finishing the contract review, I filled out the Wildacres Writing Workshop application and wrote a check for a week in the mountains in July.  All by myself.  Writing in the mountains.  A week away from the kids, my life, work and reality, with terrible cell coverage and excellent people.  I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't sacrifice the things I like to do for myself any more. 

I've been dating someone. It's been a whirlwind of laughter and fun.  At one point, I tried to bail.  Tried to walk away from it - - - fear, fear, fear - - - and after two days of complete introspection and fighting the demons from my past, I looked at myself in the mirror and made a promise that I would ride this out and see where it goes because I understood at that moment that the potential for pain was only a potential, but that the fear I was feeling was real.  A great love might cause a great fall - - - but avoiding a great love because of fear is a continuous fall, if that makes sense.

I kept my promise, and I remind myself to keep it every day - - - especially when the demons from my past creep, creep, creep forward.

Dare I say it?

Life is good right now.  I awake in the mornings and I am inspired to bring a glint of sunshine onto the dark waters that someone else may be swimming in.  I am inspired to work solidly in order to get things done right, and within the timeframe I set.  I am inspired to listen to more music, to write more sweetly, to talk more intimately and to be a light of some sort in this twisted world.

I've promised myself that I would do that:  Be inspired.  Be a light.  Be grateful for the good (or at the very least, not horrible) days.  Be helpful.  Be kind. Be generous.

These promises keep me busy.
These promises keep me sane.
These promises keep me happy. 

Happy like I haven't been in about 5 years.

Saturday is the anniversary of my divorce.

I promise that I won't think about it and feel the hurt again.

It's a promise I know I can keep.  The hurt isn't there any more.  There's still a ping of regret due to a divorce being part of my life, but the break was good, better for me and the kids; and I am actually grateful that he had the balls to walk away.  Truly grateful.  (Never thought I'd say that! - - - Which makes me even more grateful).

I will write more on this blog.
I promise I will.

But if you're looking for a sad post, well, I ain't gonna write it.

In The Big Muddy

After a full day of work, an hour or so prepping and cooking dinner, an hour or so of prepping the kids to do their homework, I decided to clean. 

I pulled out the power washer and power washed my deck.  My back hurts.

After putting it away, I checked on the kids who were bathing in separate bathrooms.  But they weren't.  They decided to bathe together with about eight bars of hotel soap in the water with them.  Giggling as the "sculpted" with the soap - - - making pretty little figurines of balled up soap.  Every bath toy was on the floor, six towels were soaked, and all three rugs were in a corner.

"Get out!"  I yelled.

"Sorry Mom, we'll clean it up."

Bah.  I left them up there to clean it up. 

I pulled out the vacuum and vacuumed the entire downstairs --- capturing the nooks and crannies for pieces of goldfish crackers, pretzels, dog food.  The brush on the vacuum got caught up on some pink lemonade spills that occurred prior to bathtime.

After vacuuming, I went upstairs to see how the bathroom was coming along.  Towels were in the laundry room, rugs were in the dryer, toys were picked up, sink counter was wiped down, and the soap sculptures had been thrown in the garbage.  Better.

With the dinner dishes complete, and the laundry folded, I visited the mop closet.  There she was - - - waiting to be used.  Should I?  Shouldn't I? Should I?  Shouldn't I?

I mop, it rains, I am exasperated. . .  that's the way it usually goes.

Yet, she smiled and begged to be used.

So, I mopped while the kids ate goldfish and pretzels and drank pink lemonade in the living room.

The house looked good.  Great, even.

I went to bed, awoke to two barking dogs at 5:30 because a stray dog was loose in our front yard.  Poor dogs were going crazy.  They must have been sympathizing with the stray since he was caught outside.

In the rain.

Dogs barked, ran through the muddy back yard, barked, I whispered a few "Shut ups", brought them inside so that the neighbors wouldn't take up a collection to have me (or them) shot in the forehead, and watched as they trampled their muddy feet across the floors.

My back still aches.

They sleep soundly.

It's still raining.

Lovely.