Game over.

I will be back in Colorado on Friday and although I am beside myself with excitement to be amongst those I love and hold dear, I am a little apprehensive.  I find the saying, “the more things change, the more they stay the same” to be a very fitting figure of speech in this case.  I don’t want to walk back into the pool of dysfunction and bad mojo I fled 3,000 miles to get away from…granted I ended up in a pool just as large and just as deep (I am sure there is a blog forming here).  But my point, why do people find it so hard to change?

I feel like I change a little bit every day.  Something always makes me stop, think, cogitate and reflect.  Sometimes I find my actions surprising and vow to never again handle a situation that way.  Sometimes this reflection happens in seconds prompting me to rectify or intervene in a situation almost instantly.  Sometimes it takes weeks before I realize my part of a situation and how I was an active participant in the way the big picture played out, even though I may not realize it at the time.   But everyday, something about me changes because something moves me, even if it is just ever so slightly.

Maybe it is because I am emotional.  It isn’t hard for me to connect to things I feel emotionally about and to be honest that is so many things.  But so many are affected emotionally by things but only for a minute.  Never grasping their part in the situation, never realizing how they can help make things better or even just acknowledge their part in a situation.  Why is it people would rather be mad or irritated at one another rather than work to make things better? Or why is it more important to screw someone rather than make it work for the betterment of a third party?

Is it too much work?  Or is work in general not a word anyone wants to hear unless they are receiving a check at the end of the day? 

My journey of the past few months has opened my eyes to many things; one, I need to get my bitchy side back but only for certain people, and two, and more, importantly the most important things to work at have nothing to do with what I do for a living.  Relationships with people are worth the work it takes. 

It is not enough to say you are willing to move mountains or they mean the world to you, I must actually move the mountain, they must be my world.  Even though some people in my life refuse to change, refuse to set aside the difference that put us at odds I have decided to no longer help them.  I am laying down my king and letting them win this game.  Let’s start over; let’s start a new game.  Let’s make this one, one that is mutually beneficial.  

Things that only happen to Lisa: pilot episode

My time here is slowly coming to an end and although I am a little irritated at the bill this adventure has racked up and the fact it didn’t go anywhere near close to plan (I thought I’d retire in Maine) I am wondering what I will blog about now...On the suggestion of a friend I’ve decided to share what I fondly refer to “things that only happen to Lisa”.

I seem to have this ability to attract people who say and do the weirdest things to me or around me.  During this phenomenon, people feel free to share with me, a perfect stranger, their thoughts and feeling about whatever I am doing at the time, rarely does it ever have anything to do with them. 

For example, when I was pregnant with my son I had a lady in a Walmart blow up at me about how she is sick and tired of pregnant teenagers living off the system, implying of course I was one of “those” woman...to her surprise I politely corrected her.  I was neither a teenager nor was I “living off the system” as my husband at the time made pretty good money, good enough for me to be a stay at home mom. 

She never apologized, just walked away, almost blaming me for not fitting into the stereo-type she had already boxed me into.

Or just last year while I was out Christmas shopping with my mother and I decided to buy something at the jewelry counter.  The lady behind the counter, who knew my mother, asked me if I had my mother’s permission to put my purchase on her credit card. 

I looked at her funny and said, “No I have my own I will be using, thanks”. 

She looked at me hard and then said, “ It was sure nice of your mother to get you a card to her account”. 

I laughed.  I am used to this.  The case of the mistaken age. 

I handed her my card, smiled and said, “My mother is nice but this is my very own card”.  She looked confused. 

Then my 11 year old son walked up to me and said something that started with the words “Mom, can I...” and she just about died.

“Is that your son”, she asked. 
“Yep” I replied
“How old are you”, she pried

I laughed and told her my age.  She looked like I had just kicked her dog.  She tells me she thought I was the ripe old age of 17 (almost that many year off) and that she thought my son was my brother and all this time she thought my mother was only in her 40’s.  I like that we look young but I think I am the only person who gets asked if I have my mother’s permission to use a credit card at my age.

These stories are what make my life uniquely mine.  Sometimes they are just plain funny and sometimes they make me angry.  But I have so many of them. Most to do with mistaken age but I guess I can’t blame them though, I still use the same picture on my driver’s license that was taken when I was 18 and I can’t say I look much different, but mostly it has to do with snap judgements people make about me and then care to share.  So for your enjoyment I too will care to share.

Moving on

I am missing something.

I am sure I am missing something that allows others to find a certain stride in life that gets them from day to day with little concern.

I am searching for it actively.

I keep starting over in hopes in my purge of old clothes and used items I will get rid of my bad luck talisman and I will find my stride.

But today, as I face with the possibility of starting over yet again, this time with far less than I have had in the past, I am grateful for just the ability to do so. It seems I have been blessed with the ability to get out of situations and move on.  Sometimes I see this as a pain as I seem to have these situations more frequently than I would like.  But when I stand back and take a real good look at it, I realize how lucky I really am.

I get out.  I move on. I still get to search out my happiness.

The lesson I have learned not a moment too soon is being happy will always be a search and the ability to be able to keep on until it is found is an ability not everyone has.  The frustration of always being in search of the missing pieces gets to me and sometimes I feel as though the wild goose chase will continue forever but I have realized being able to chase is the blessing I may have been over looking for all these years.

Yes, one can say that my search for occupational happiness has eluded me, but one can also say I have had great opportunities and realized my dreams are far more vast than I had ever thought.  Some may look at me and say I am without a life long love, but I would prefer to believe I have been blessed with the ability to explore my world so when I find a love I will have the knowledge to know what it is.  Some may say I have been adrift, I say I am paving a life and just because my path doesn't go in a straight line doesn't mean I am not sure where I am going, but rather that I have decided to not miss out on all the other parts of my life along the way.

I have known people who have gotten stuck and masked that with the idea they are "stable".  I have been able to move on.  Move forward.  I am lucky I have had so many opportunities and I hope to have more as I continue to move on.

I believe life isn't what I expected but sometimes that is the blessing I loose sight of.

What do you do with a MA in Literature?

As my impending graduation comes closer and closer I am for the first time trying to be realistic about the education I have received. I know it's a bit late for an epiphany.  People say all the time, all education is good; I beg to differ. 

I am looking at a Pikes Peak size mound of debt and very limited career options.

When I first started out there was no doubt in my mind I wanted to be a teacher.  I  romanticized the idea of helping kids achieve their dreams and playing an important role in the community.  The reality is much different.  As I put in my years as an educator I am realizing I may not be cut out for the role public school asks me to play.  I am a problem solver not a sit around the table problem discuss-er.  I love being a teacher I just wish it was more about teaching and less about committees, meetings and juggling the juvenile ways of co-workers.

But then I look at my student loan bill and all I have invested into becoming the best teacher I can be and find it hard to justify any other career option. (Even though there are some retail jobs out there I am sure that pay more...)

I am still trying to figure out where the heck I fit in, in this adult world where, by my age, I am supposed to have all the answers and everything figured out by now. 

Trying to hunt down that perfect job.  The one that fits like a glove. 

But I think my education and experience had pigeon holed me into a niche which is now a bit suffocating.  Did I just invest enough money to buy a small house into an education which will get me no where but where I am already at? 

It should be illegal for colleges and universities to allow students to major in dumb things.  I mean we are young and foolish and we all think we are going to grown up and be rich and famous or maybe just rich and we take leaps for the big stars just to realize that if that leap doesn’t work, the options are we left with are nil. 

In the prolific words of one of my favorites, Mr. Baz Luhrmann “ The most interesting people didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t”. 

Guess I will just need to settle for being interesting for now. 

Positivity: All it's cracked up to be?

All the talk about positivity and being a positive person is it all bunk?  I am and continue to be (with the exception of a few days...ok maybe more than a few but less than most) a positive person.  I accept apologies and give second, third, fourth and so on... chances even when I know better.  I am even nice to those who are awful to me because I was taught to “take the high road”.

I am be no means a saint.  I get nasty like everyone else. And like everyone else I sometimes don’t feel sorry for being mean.  But most who know me will attest to that being a rarity. 

Why is it there are someone people who have been able to carve out an existence where they get to be the one we all tip toe around?  We all know one, work with one or some how come into contact with one.  These people are the ones that treat people like doggie do do and for some reason it’s okay. 

Often being excused with the phrase, “it’s just the way they are”. 

If it isn’t okay for me to act and treat people this way, how do these people get everyone else to walk on eggshells?

My positivity seems to attract those who are used to people walking on this said “eggshell” and they like to keep reminding how special they are and how they are exempt from the rules of kindness and human decency. 

I guess the real question here is, if positivity attracts positivity, where the hell are the my positive life friends? Or co-workers? Or random people on the street? 

I smile even as I write this, in hope that today will be the change I have been waiting for.  When the world moves a little bit in my direction but knowing I will wake up tomorrow with the same smile even if it isn’t.  I am not so sure that positivity attracts positivity and I definitely haven't seen much evidence of it. 

I have contemplated even trying out this new attitude that seems to work for others and tried to see if I can get the eggshells to lay down at my feet but I just don’t have what it takes to be that oblivious the those around me. 

So, here’s to another day of positivity.  I will smile and continue through my day oblivious to the load of bunk I have been privy to lately in hopes that I will attract positivity (maybe I just haven’t done it enough?) But if the day ends like it has been lately at least I have the hope of a new day and maybe a do over.

And I know I will never let these people see me cry, these jerks get the smile.

Standard? A tale of a boy

As a teacher I understand the need for rules and standard operating procedures for the way things should work. But as a mother of a child who is not “standard”  I know how hard these procedures make his life. 

He is a soon to be teenage boy whose sensitivity still rules his life.  He cries in sad parts of movies and he never wants to hurt anything.  Yet, he fights the daily fight and the societal pressures of having to a “man”.  Something I can not even begin to tell him what that actually means, except of course, crying is out. 

He thinks “outside of the box” all the time.  In fact, to get this kid in a box would take an apocalyptic force of nature.  In some cases this makes the easy things hard for him because he complicates them with some crazy invention or need to make it big and more complicated.  But his creativity is so abundant and his stories incredibly imaginative.  It makes hearing his take on the days events and event in it self.  It makes having simple conversations hysterical and fun.  So much so often we get off track and forget to solve the issue at hand.  His teachers find this frustrating and ask me to get a handle on this.

He loves with all his heart.  His dog. His friends and especially his family. He doesn’t ignore our faults but rather loves everyone anyway.  Most of the time he finds away to use your fault as something positive.  He likes that I can’t cook very well because that means he can have chicken nuggets again for dinner and that is just fine by him. But he gets his feelings hurt so easy because he is so ready to give.

He lives his life in a constant cloud of frustration. 

He can’t seem to find his stride in the world of unwritten rules and regulations.  In a world where people don’t have the time to stop and understand him.  In a world that sees him as a burden on their time, instead of a chance to understand something different. 

How does one explain, even if people don’t want it, you still have something to offer? How does one help show someone they are not the burden, rather those without an open mind are?  How can one help find a someone a place in a world which has met him with so much judgement and rejection at such a young age?

In a world of rules and regulations, procedures and paperwork, is there room for someone who sees no need for any of it and just lives life with an open heart and incredible stories?

Time to get what I pay for

As adults we are held to a specific standard.  We are expected to pay bills, show up to work, complete our work  assignments and even life goals, on time.  There are consequences if we don’t, some of these consequences can be detrimental.   Some can prevent us from being able to do other things. 

So why is it that when we as consumers demand that same standard from people to whom we pay money it seems there is a different expectation.  As consumers we are told we must hold up to contracts and agreements, yet the company has no obligation to provide us with decent customer service or even service at all.

Not kidding.

I was livid to find out my cell phone provider is under no obligation to deliver me cell phone service.  Then what am I paying for?  I don’t have service where I live, they can not provide me service where I live, no other cell phone company can provide service where I live but I am still obligated to pay my contract...on time.

Another service provider has taken over three weeks and rescheduled installation five times (without calling ahead of time so I actually had to wait the entirety of the 4 hour installation window each time) and when I called to complain and cancel the service they told me I was obligated to pay a cancellation fee.  Yep they wanted to charge me money for being dissatisfied with their service... and they wanted their money right then.  Never mind they had already charged me a two hundred and fifty dollar installation fee for an installation that hadn’t happened.   Which they said they would refund me but it would take up to three months.

Really?

Can I take up to three months to pay my bill?  Can I not show up to work and then charge my employer a “firing fee”?

When does the service provider take some responsibility for holding up to their obligations.  It is  ludicrous to be obligated for a service the service provider can no longer provide.  Where is the honesty in that?

The way I see it, it is about time the burden of keeping clients or customers should be on the merit of the company and their service not because they strong arm the consumer to hold up to a contract that fails to hold the company responsible for even providing a service.

Picking my battle

So I am learning quickly people are not what they seem.  

Yes, I am just figuring this out.  

I know I am too old not to know this by now but I always figure people are good at heart they just need a chance to show it. I am learning and to my pessimistic friends chagrin (feel the sarcasm), when it comes to people they are right on. 

People are not good at heart.

This was one pass worth of dirt caked inside the cabinets.

I guess it comes from the nature of the human.  At the core of our instincts we take care of ourself first and then our family or our pack, screw everyone else who is in the way.  

I subscribe to a very different mind set but lately it has not served me well.  I have been walked over and treated badly and drug through the mud, for what seems to be mostly for the sport of it, by these people who always hide behind the idea they are taking care of themselves and theirs and they do so by kicking the nice guy.

What ever happened to helping a brother out? What happened to paying it forward?  What happened to doing the right thing because it was the "right thing" to do?  Why is it people still subscribe to the mentality that this is a kill or be killed style society?  We are long past the days where this mind set applies.  Just think, if we all spent more time holding ourselves accountable for our actions we would spend a lot less time in court fighting over who's fault it is.  I have to believe those who are wrong know they are wrong, they are just trying to get away with something.

This is the trash that was left for me when I
 moved in, yep just sitting on the floor.

And sometimes they do.

That's the real shame of it.  There is a benefit for being a jerk.  A benefit for getting one over on someone else and there are people who feel good about it. (I feel bad if the checker forgets to charge me for something at the store and have been known for going back in so I could pay for it).  So those who get enjoyment out of pulling one over on someone else really cause me to stand back and ponder.  

I made the mistake of moving a carpet, this was
what was underneath.

As I settle into what is the inevitable fight with my current landlord, I wonder why he is choosing to fight this with me.  He has to know in his heart of hearts that he did not do what he was supposed to do.  He has to know I shouldn't be responsible to live with his mistakes and he should know the right thing to do to make the situation better would be to fix the problems the right way or to let me out of the lease and he can visit the place in the summer and live in it any way he wants, plumbing and electrical issues and all.  But no he insists on making me live through this mess. 

This was the mess on the floor that was
left in just part of the bathroom.

The courts will have their say but the part that makes me uneasy is that I could quite possibly lose.  I could possibly be told not that he wasn't right in doing what he did but that in my case the law may not protect me.  And through no real fault of my own, except I refuse to pay good money to not live in a clean and healthy environment, I could possibly have to pay this man lots of money for not wanting to put up with being treated like crap.   Sending him the message that not only can he not take care of his rental property but then he can also treat people like crap and when they stick to their guns and say this is not ok, he can still profit.  

I am hoping of course the opposite message is sent but either way, I am sticking to my guns.  This time I'm not playing. I picked my battle win or lose, when it comes to this  there is no more Mr. nice guy...er...gal.

All the personal belongings they left me, well not
 all just what was on this desk ..in one room.

What's in a name?

In a small town, similar to an episode of cheers, everybody knows your name.  Everyone knows what you do for a living and who your kids are and they refer to where you live by who has lived there before you not by the address.  But it is official my kids have earned little monikers from the locals.

My son is "the reader".  He walks to school in the mornings always book in hand and as his name would suggest, he is reading it.  He walks and reads. Sometimes not always successfully, but none the less he is "the reader".  He takes his book to restaurants and on the ferry and sometimes he even gets yelled at by a teacher for reading in class when he is suppose to be listening to something else.

My daughter is the "sweet girl".  She earned her name just the other day.  She was waiting in line for her breakfast at the cafe and an older gentleman was waiting behind her.  When she got to the counter and it was her turn to order, she noticed the man behind her and allowed him to go in front of her.  This in and of itself was not a huge feat but to that man it made all the difference.  After ordering he went around telling everyone in the cafe about the "sweet little girl"and went out of his way to tell me how lucky I am to have her.

The next day at the same cafe I ran into a parent of one of my students and she looked at me said, " oh I know who your kids are, your kids are the reader and the sweet little girl".  I smiled and shook my head and said, "Yes, yes they are".

Today was a gray day

Fall has come to Maine quick and without looking back or apology has changed the days from sunny warm beach days to foggy gray breezy days.  Here it's already sweater weather and rain boots are a must.  The nights already have the nip that have us wearing sweat pants under blankets on the couch and requesting hot chocolate and marshmallows while we watch our favorite shows.  I turned on my heater for the first time last night and settled under the cover of my down blanket to get warm.

This morning it was sunny but still cold.  We walked to the market to pick up our weekly groceries and so my children could spend their allowance and it was the perfect weather for a light coat and a long walk.

The evening fog has already started to settle in here at about 3:00 in the afternoon but I realized something as I watched it come over the ocean to my front door...we will be having soup for dinner.

Well that and something else.  

I like the gray day.  It makes me feel guilt free for spending the day inside.   While I am inside  I can bake.  Today it was the kids' favorite, chocolate chip muffins.  I like how the oven warms the house and fills it with the sweet smell of something yummy.  I like having an excuse to sit on the couch and read a magazine with my feet up for at least 20 minutes while the baking is happening.  I like the less chaotic atmosphere of a lazy day that seem to be brought about by fog and chilly weather.

The house is quieter.  The animals less hyper.  The children more content.  The mom more relaxed all under the aroma of chocolate chip muffins!

I have been warned about these gray days by many people, saying they have a tendency to bring on bouts of depression.  And although I can see where they are coming from I like the effect they have on my family.

Tonight we will snuggle in for some potato soup, some sweat pants and warm blankets and a good movie together, and for the first time since we got here, we will have some relaxing family time that doesn't involve leaving the house or breaking the bank.

Today has brought my family some peace and for that I say bring on the gray days and let all gray days be days like today.

I'm glad

I started the weekend off bad and I continued the weekend in a grumpy and solem fashion.  In fact, as I sit here typing, making every effort to be in a better mood by listening to my signature bubble gum pop from the 80's, I am still not sure if I have shaken the grey cloud following me, raining on my parade.

My reasons for being in a sour mood seem to really be irrelevant especially since the minutia of the details sound stupid the more I repeat them.  I am more focused on the idea of why some people feel the need to nit pick on the lives of others, why the most judgmental people go around accusing others of being just that, why is it people have lost the ability to confront people with the idea of coming to an understanding rather than just to fight and see who can yell the loudest and swap the most insults?

When did everything become defensive?

There inlies my problem with life.  I live life more on the offense.  I do my best to walk through life just trying to do the "right" things.  Meaning for me, I say please, thank you and excuse me.  I always hold the door for people, use my blinker in traffic, try to walk in the shoes of some one else before approaching them with any situation, rarely fly off the cuff on anyone, don't blame others for my short comings and try to understand why they may find something I did to cause them anger or dismay.  I believe in face to face communication not because I revel in confrontation but rather to avoid it by being able to read body language and facial expression.  I believe in telling the truth, trying to create understanding, and just letting people live.  I smile at strangers.  In essence, I believe most people are doing the best they can in the circumstance they are in.

 I am naive.

I figure by trying to live in a way where I try to give understanding a head of time I would have less conflict in life.  I thought people would afford me a similar understanding, because I treat them in a respectful manner, I too would be respected.

This is just not the case.

It is possible some see my attitude as condescending, irritating or maybe even devious.  So they're response to me is unkind.  It is possible some people look at me and find something about me to be leery of.  I wish I knew what it was cause being treated poorly sucks.

But I move forward in my normal fashion.  Trying to not let it show their behavior weighs on my mind and makes life just a little harder.  I still smile at strangers and hold the door open and over all press forward with a positive attitude.  It does make me think though, is this the wrong response.  I mean what message am I sending?  Maybe it would be beneficial for me to just open up and let someone really have it, maybe as a warning to everyone else that comes after.  To be honest, occasionally someone will gets a piece of me, I just don't make it a habit.

Just trying to make sense of the world from the perspective of a sensitive optimist's point of view.

I pondered all these question as my weekend continued to just be lack luster and as I sunk into the the idea that I once again was done wrong for no reason except someone just felt the need, my daughter spotted this lady outside the grocery store selling gladiolas.  She insisted on buying some.


After arranging the flowers on the dinning room table when we returned home I asked her why she wanted flowers.  She responded, " No one else was buying them and she worked hard to grow them.  I thought I should be nice and buy some.  She had a baby mom, she needs the money for her family".  It dawned on me right then that I have instilled the idea in my children they can change the world simply by doing something nice for someone. They are offensive in their approach to life.   Hopefully, I didn't do them a diservice.

Not in my classroom

The issues which plague the school system seem to be everywhere.  Not enough money, not enough teachers, and kids that are just down right obnoxious.  No matter where I teach there are a few kids who seem to have escaped the oppressive hands of a disciplinarian for a parent.

Today I received a few odd looks over such a child.

I waiting for my class to come in for their drama lesson today and the teacher enters the auditorium with her class as usual  only today it is obvious she is having problems with one child in particular.  The teacher asks him to take a seat, he says "NEVER".

She asks him to calm down and keep his hands to himself, again he responds "NEVER".

She continues to ask him to behave which his only response is to yell at her.  She asks him for about the tenth time to stop doing something disruptive, mind you I have yet to start class because this child is acting up the way he is, and this time instead of yelling at the teacher he kicks her.

Yes, that's right he kicks the teacher in the leg.

I waited for her to say something, I was appalled.  She responded by again asking him to stop his behavior and his response as you can guess was...."NEVER" and he kicks her again.

I could no longer handle seeing this and thought to myself, heck no this will not happen in my theatre!  So I knelt down beside his teacher looked the child square in the eyes and in a firm tone told him, " Look, (insert child's name here) you will not act this way in my classroom.  You are disrespecting your teacher and I will not have that.  We do not kick people. We do not yell at people and if you are going to continue to do so you will be removed from my classroom.  You will not be mean".

The kid looked a little wide eyed at me but he stopped right away.

But it was not his expression I worried about it was the other teacher's.  She looked a little wide eyed as well but then responds to my comment to the child with, "Oh he's autistic".

"um ok", I responded .

I think she expected me to some how excuse his behavior because he was autistic.  Somehow having this disability excuses his poor behavior.

Now, I have a child with Asperge'rs syndrome (a form of autism) so I am familiar with the behavior traits of kids within the autism spectrum.  I get it, I really do.  But I also know for a fact, without a doubt my child never kicked a teacher.  And I have taught many children with autism and none of them have ever kicked a teacher either...kicking someone is not a function of his autism it was a function of his parenting.

This child was capable of understanding rules and consequences. When I was firm with him he stopped.  So why did the teacher give me such a look?  I think she thinks I was too hard on the child.  But children need boundaries and even though I was not the one he was kicking I felt I had no choice but to show him those boundaries.  

I run a tight ship.  My classroom is fun but there are rules.  Be aware that no teacher will be mistreated in the confines of my auditorium.  I am a firm believer there is no excuse for bad behavior but children need to be taught.  And yes all children can be taught how to behave.

It would have made more sense for the teacher to look at me and say, " Oh his parents, they don't make him follow rules".

Out my front door

View from the front room of my house

So my drama with my rental house has been an ongoing saga of crap.

I have been without electricity for a few days and I am currently without the ability to take a shower or do dishes because the waste water (not sewer) is leaking into the basement and has left standing water.  It is all on the way to being fixed but because there is no Home Depot here and the hours the hardware store does keep does not include Sundays or heck not even Saturday afternoons, it is a slow process.

This house has been the bain of my existence since I moved.  The landlord is not a nice or even close to honest person, the house is old and riddled with loads of issues that seem to have escaped everyone but me.  Everyday it seems I find something else to add to the list of "things that need to be fixed".

I want to move and by all means I have enough legal grounds to break my lease and go somewhere else. But as the repairs are done and my frustration subsides I remember what is out my front door.

I remember the reasons that eventually lead me to make the move are no longer the lingering issues they once where but most of all I look at the my kids and realize they are happy.

Happy.

My tree in my front yard.

A word that has escaped me for so long.  Life hasn't been good to me in the past few years with few exceptions.  As I battle this house though I am realizing it is my only real battle and I am winning.  Things are being fixed and cleaned and they will work properly.  I am on the winning side of the battles I now am up against rather than feeling like I am constantly sliding backwards.

This house is frustrating and I am sure this battle is not finished by a long shot but I feel like when I step outside my front door, outside the problems at hand I realize the problems I have, from a new perspective, are not problems much at all but merely things that need a new coat a paint or to be tweaked.  These things are part of life.  Anyone's life.

By stepping outside my problems for a minute, by opening my front door and walking outside I can allow myself to take in the beauty that surrounds me and goes unnoticed because I have almost forgot how to see it. I can literally walk to the ocean from my house I just have to cross the street.  I have a wonderful white and pink hydrangea tree in my front yard that is spectacular and my kids think this is the best place on earth and are thriving.

So when I am frustrated about the house and all the problems it has and all the headaches it gives me I need to remember to step out my front door because the world just outside the walls of my problems looks pretty darn good for the first time in a long time.  It's all about perspective 

Out of sight...

Finding out who your friends are always comes when you don't want it to.

I moved over 2100 miles away from Colorado less than a month ago and I have already been made aware of who really cares and who doesn't.  With all the conveniences of modern day you'd think it would be easy to keep in touch with people.  But apparently when I moved I made it too damn hard for people to keep in touch.

So I am not accused of being one sided, I do live on an island making cell phone use almost impossible, so the casual texters and the once is awhile chats with some people may stop simply because they may not have my new number but those aren't the people I am really referring to anyway.  I am talking about the people who made a big deal about me moving and don't bother to return my phone calls or chat with me via any other myriad of different technological ways one can with people and most of them being free.

Why say keep in touch if you really have no intention on doing so? Why bother making a big deal about me moving away if it really is an out of sight out of mind thing.

Are friendships with people such a disposable thing that once they are no longer right beside us to draw upon them when we need them that we just drop them?  I guess I am old school and I like to believe loyalty still exists among friends, I just now know which ones those are for me.

Thank the deity you believe in for family. The kind you were born into and the kind we chose.  Family never really seems to forget you exist whether you are 2100 miles away or right next door,  no matter if they call just to fight with you or if they are just checking up on how your doing, they are there.

Even though today I have a lot less friends than I had a few months ago, I still have my family.  It makes it seem like I have everything I need.

being from aways

The community I moved to recently has a year population of about 1,200 people.  The vacation community during the summer raises that number by about seven times, so it is safe to say one of the favorite past times of the locals here is making fun of those of us that are from "aways".

Spoken mostly in a thick Boston accent with a twist, they will openly poke fun.  Most of the locals already know who I am and who my kids are, so they never hold back.  

Today after work I strolled to the parking lot with a co-worker and my daughter asked for my keys so she could get in the car.  She pushed the little unlock button on the key fob and the car beeped and the doors unlocked.  Now this is something most of us do several times a day and sometimes without even knowing we did it.  How many times have you stood in the parking lot wondering if you locked your car?  

Through her roaring laughter my co-workers asked me for clarification, "Did you just unlock your car"?

I responded a little sheepishly, " Ahhh...yeah".  

She laughed harder.  

Cause here locking your car accomplishes as much as going to the bank on Sunday.  

She joked with me in her heavy accent , " Oh you people from aways and your keys.  Who do you think is gonna take your ca?  and even if they did where do you suppose they'd take it"?  she laughed harder, the thought was so absurd.

She had a point.  I live on an island, the only way on or off the island is your own personal boat or the ferry.  And one can't just get on the ferry, it's a pretty involved procedure that has to take place 24 hours ahead of time.  

I felt dumb.  But I am a city girl... that makes me giggle a little bit Colorado Springs is never what I thought of as a CITY.  But I am a city girl if we don't lock our cars they may not be there when we get back.  Old habits die hard and although I am getting used to letting my kids take the 2 block walk to the candy store alone, I think it will take a long time before the locals see me leave my keys in the ignition.  

I am the spider ninja

Spider on the side of my house this morning. The body about the size of a silver dollar.

I hate spiders.

No one told me that Maine has more spiders per square foot than jelly beans in one of those "guess how many" jars at the county fair.  I am not at all exaggerating.


Not even a little bit... ok maybe a little bit.

But to someone who hates spiders it doesn't feel like an exaggeration. I go out every morning with a broom and sweep the spiders off my house who have diligently made their nightly webs there.  I am not just talking little spiders either I am talking about spiders whose mid section can span the width of a quarter and even silver dollar, sized spiders.

Great oogly boogly!

Just to clarify I am not afraid of spiders I just don't like them.  I think they are dirty and ugly and gross. I apologize to everyone out there who will undoubtedly fight on the behalf of the spider for their right to live.  I am sure you will be quick to remind me all the good they do by eating my second biggest enemy of the state - the mosquito!

I just don't care.

They can live anywhere else.  Just not in my house or on my house.  I may feel differently about them if they didn't bite us...maybe a little bit different...nah probably not.  Maybe if they were purple with pretty wings and granted wishes ... maybe.

Since moving to Maine I am on a one woman mission to get the word out to these spider folks my house needs to be left alone.  I am the spider ninja!  Ok, well maybe I am not a ninja but I kick some spider butt every morning armed with my straw broom.  Here's hoping some maimed spiders go back and tell their other little spider friends to not build their webs on my house in fear of the spider ninja's revenge!

This blog entry is dedicated to the spider in the picture. Whom I unleashed the power of the broom on this morning right after he let me take his picture...may you rest in peace big guy.

first (k)new thing

I know moving is hard.  I don't like it.  I recently decided to make the move across the country to Maine from Colorado.  Like predicted it was hard and I didn't like the process.  Even though it seemed I had all my ducks in a row weeks leading up to the actual move, some things just don't seem to go as planned.  Anytime you have to rely on someone else to do something for you the margin of error increases.

Being I do not own my own moving truck, shipping company, gas station, ferry (I moved to an island) or anything else I needed to move my things cross country my margine of error was increasing exponentially.

Surprisingly, the move itself went well.  Yes, my things arrived late and my phone took almost two weeks to turn on and my internet took even longer.  The margin of error I seemed to escape with the move it self,  all came to a head when it came to the disaster that was my rental property.

I could spend hours describing the disgusting conditions my poor escuse for a landlord expected me to move into. The dirt and the grime that existed on every inch of floors and walls and the mounds of the personal possessions he expected me to sort through (down to old tooth brushes and stacks of magazines ) and the spiders and their webs that had already taken up residence in the house.  I could rehash the conversation I had with him over the phone when I brought it to his attention that the house was a mess and where he insulted me multiple times and told me "my expectations were too high"  or that "I should suck it up" but I'd rather spend my time on what came after.

Frustrated and upset I approached my principal (I moved to Maine to teach) and told him without a suitable rental I would be returning home to Colorado. He said he would take care of it because making sure his teachers were happy was his highest priority.  I was a little unsure of the meaning of his response.

What happened next was nothing short of incredible.

The next day several faculty members including my principal came to my rental property mops and cleaning supplies in hand.  They scrubbed, they mopped, they painted.  They moved out the old and dusty old furniture and boxed up the personal belongings that engulfed the house and in a matter of hours took the house from being a disaster to ready to move in.  I met most of my colleagues for the first time this day and they were all just happy to help.

I had never before experienced the generosity or goodwill from a group of people like I had on this day never mind it was a  group of people I had never met.

 I was sure I knew how this was going to turn out but instead it renewed my faith in people and community.  Forever in debt to this experience.