One More Abandoned and Neglected Thing, Our Car

It was a about six months ago when I wrote about a shirt I got that had been cast off on the side of the road, abandoned and neglected.  Now it seems I've attracted something else in my life that shares a similar story.  I have to wonder if my purpose in life is to resurrect things from the dead that have been neglected for far too long, and give them a new purpose.

This time it's a little bit harder than an article of clothing.  It's not a matter of simply putting on a shirt and giving it a chance to live again.  Not everything in life is that easy, and in this case, I've got a challenge, and we've got our work cut out for us.  This one is going to take money, effort, and a lot of time.

Anyone who knows me well already knows we just got a new car, but they may not know the story.  This car has her own story to tell, as I've come to realize most cars do.  I just wish I was able to trace it all back to the original owner, but I guess sometimes there are things you're just not meant to know.

This car was bought by it's current owner when it had about 93,000 miles on it.  They babied her.  She was given all the care and maintenance she could possibly need.  They kept her in as pristine condition as possible, and she was given all of her regular maintenance just when she needed it, never waiting until it was good for them.  She had only the best.

Then we're not quite sure what happened.  Somewhere along the line she needed some work.  The door panels were torn open.  The electrical systems in the door didn't work right.  It wouldn't have taken much, but they didn't have the time and they had other cars to focus on.  She was put into the back yard and they were going to work on fixing her up for their son, but that never happened.  Their son decided he wanted something else instead and now the car needs a lot of love.  She sat in that back yard for nearly five years.  In that time she was climbed on by dogs, exposed to the elements, and forced to suffer without the regular care and maintenance she needed to keep her going.  Her battery died.  Her oil turned to sludge.  Her front tire went flat.  Even the tail light, which wasn't completely sealed, began to fill with water.  She was beginning to think she should just give up.  She'd end up in a junk yard somewhere, rotting until she was finally crushed.

That's when we came into the picture.  We saw a listing on Craigslist for a 1993 Mazda Mx6 for $700.  We were originally looking for a minivan or larger SUV due to our family size.  I've got three kids and two more I may need to transport when I'm working as a nanny.  We really need a large vehicle.  However, beggar's can't be choosers, and it was coming down to the line.  There was only so much longer we could look for a car before we really couldn't wait any longer for a way to get around.  With tax season hitting, it means everyone is going to have more money to spend.  The prices on Craigslist are starting to rise and dealers are no longer willing to negotiate on having smaller downpayments.  Because of this, we had to start expanding our options.  We were going to have to take what we could get and look for something that can fit the whole family later.  At the very least it would give me something that could get me to my nanny job and to the grocery store.  We could stop relying on other people for rides.  That's what we needed.

So, seeing this car listed, we decided to check it out.  The car was listed as needing some transmission work, and the battery needed to be replaced.  It would need a new paint job and had some damage here and there.  I checked the blue book for the car and it was listed in it's condition to be around $850.  We figured for $700, that was a steal, even in the condition it was likely in.  Chesh went out to check it out.  We'd already gotten her to come down on price a bit, so we were pretty excited.

When we got her home, I have to admit, I was worried.  She burns gas.  Her windshield is more broken than I thought.  I didn't realize she'd need a tire.  She looked like she'd been through a natural disaster.

When he got there he saw all the things wrong with her.  He got there around 5pm, but it was well past dark when he was done going over every detail.  He wanted to make sure we knew exactly what we were getting before we drove her off the property.  After going over her with a fine tooth comb, he finally got the owner to hand her over for all of $450.  That was a lot lower than she could have sold for, but given she'd been sitting in a yard since 2007, she was willing to take what she could get.  She wasn't selling it because she needed the money, but more that she wanted to get rid of her and see her used rather than pay to have her hauled off to a junk yard.  It worked well for everyone involved.

Things didn't look much better when we got her home.  The next morning we got to take a good look at her together.  She needs a lot of love.  We put as much effort into cleaning her as possible, but it was clear she was going to have some issues.  Her whole front end does the shimmy-shake when you have her at idol, though it doesn't seem to be a problem in motion.  She also burns oil, probably from the time she's spent sitting and her oil being sludge.  One of her tail lights doesn't work, which means it's going to need to be rewired, probably due to water damage.  There was no bulb and with all that water sitting in there, it's not surprising it's out.  I was beginning to think the worst of this situation, that we'd spent this money on a car that would cost more to make useful than we really had in our budget to spend.

The next day Chesh took a good look at the car.  Apparently the damage isn't as bad as it seems.  All the lines need to be bled, but it looks like the only things she'll need to pass inspection are a new tire, a new windshield, new windshield wipers, the taillight fixed, and an oil change at the least so she'll pass emissions.  Sure, she needs some help before she'll be able to hit fifth gear, but at least that's the bulk of it, and she can be driven.  It's not as bad as I had feared.

I guess that's kind of how I feel about myself sometimes.  I was put into a rut.  I was cast aside, neglected and abused for far too long.  Finally I was rescued, though more from my own actions than someone saving me.  At first it looked pretty bad.  I almost looked like a salvage job myself.  I didn't think I'd ever find something stable and "normal" underneath it all.  Then, once the dirt was all cleared off and someone could finally take a good look at what really needed to be done, it was apparent that all I needed was a few repairs in order to get myself back up and running again.  True, I'd need a full overhaul in time, but until then, I'm at least capable of getting through the day without driving myself any deeper down.  Things will get better with a little work and TLC.

It's funny how I attract these sorts of things into my life.  At the same time, it's kind of frustrating.  We were looking for another car that would better suit our needs, but that one fell through due to some shady people making the deal.  We found another match, but the guy was giving us the run around.  He wouldn't be in state until today, but he'd already had several offers for the car much higher than ours.  Had he not told us he had gotten other offers higher than our own, we probably would have sat it out until he got back, but it sounded like he wasn't planning to sell the car to us.  We'd already been looking for nearly two weeks with no success, so we gave up and decided to go with whatever we could get.  Otherwise, we'd probably be driving that minivan right now.  It just seems like fate that we would end up with this car, even though it's not at all what we need, but then again, maybe it truly is...

Not So Virtual Armor

I've come to realize that I've been giving myself some armor lately.  It's not the kind of armor that you strap on before going into combat, but a very different kind.  Instead, I'm wearing an armor that's more spiritual in nature, but physically present with each piece I add.

The idea really came from my friend Raven.  She wears certain pieces of jewelry and considers them like her spiritual armor.  One of the ones easiest to note is her pentacle.  The other is an ankh.  She's worn these every day since I met her, and is probably still wearing them now!  I don't foresee her ever taking them off without a serious amount of convincing, or nothing short of sheer force.  I didn't really realize she was the inspiration, but looking back, there it is.  I wanted to add pieces to my earrings that would have the same meaning, but I never managed to do it.  Instead I started adding them to my hair.

It all started with a simple little charm, Kokopelli.  My friend Erin called me all frantic asking me what the meaning of a broken necklace chain was.  I explained that in my experience I'd always known a broken chain to mean that the item was no longer meant to be worn.  The fact that she still had it in her possession meant that it needed to be passed on to someone she knew.  Well, she did, and the fortune he's brought me has been interesting, to say the least.  He is my first and possibly my favorite of my little companions.  I bound him into my hair seeking fertility and abundance, and by that I mean finding a way to provide for my family.  It's not surprising that it should come in the most twisted and confusing of ways.  That is Kokopelli's nature.  He's a bit of a trickster god, like Loki.  However, I'm eternally grateful for him.  He's helped me to look at my life and see the bright side of everything, even when it seems like there is none.  He's helped me see every bad situation we've been in lately really is a blessing in disguise.  I'm looking out for his every message because he's leaving them loud and clear.  Now I just have to figure out how to listen.  It wasn't at all what I expected, no, not in the least, but I'm starting to take the hint.  We really needed a lot of these changes in our life, and while they've brought a lot of hard times, we're definitely in a better position now in many ways than we were before all this chaos began!

After Kokopelli, my son brought me his old pentacle.  We bought it for hom when he was very small and constantly ill.  I wanted to give him something to keep him safe, and at the time I was very much involved with the local Pagan community.  I'd found it at one of the local shops and it was perfect.  He wore it begrudgingly, and often times I would have to keep putting it back on him.  It did it's job well, since he was rarely sick or injured while he wore it, but eventually it just got to be too much of a hassle to find it every time he flung it off into the void, deciding he was sick of wearing it that day.  We'd found it a while ago and he wanted me to have it.  I decided to bind that into my hair for protection.  There was a lot going on in my life and it felt good to have a protection symbol bound to me to follow me wherever I go.  That pentacle has been in my family since my son was only a year old.  He wore it for two years before he lost it, then decided it needed to be on me, not him.  Not only is it a symbol of protection, but it is also a connection to my child, a very special connection, one that can't be copied by anyone else.

Shortly after that, Erin gave me another gift.  She had two matched bone daggers.  One would go in her dreads, the other would go in mine.  It's a rather large piece, so I didn't expect to have it go in my hair right away, but I decided it needed to.  It hangs a little longer than the dread it's bound to, mostly because dreads shrink up over time.  It was put in my hair to represent my connection to my dance sister, since she would some day wear hers too, but with it's constant and persistent jabs, it's also a constant reminder to be aware of things that may not serve my highest good.  After all, it's called a bone dagger, and daggers are weapons meant for offense.  While I would never use this in such a way, I think the mental association between a dagger and this thing stabbing me every time it's got something to tell me is kind of appropriate.  It has also become one of my favorite pieces, both due to it's uniqueness and due to it's persistent and demanding nature.  How could I not learn to love it?  It speaks to me (even if it isn't in the nicest of ways)!

It was a good long while before I had anything else to put in my hair.  Nothing showed up that felt like it really belonged there.  I didn't have need to add anything else.  I really wanted to have more, knowing that I wanted to have a full dowry or a pirate's booty worth of goods in my hair.  I thought it would be fun, unique, and make my hair stand out from everyone else's dreads.  Since my dreads are so thin, it's hard to find rings and beads just kicking around that will easily slip in, so I'm down to charms and baubles right now.  That's when a whole box of treasures from my past just showed up, including an old, treasured necklace and a belly chain with a broken clasp.  I wore the charm necklace for a while, but it just didn't feel right.  Something needed to change, so I decided to go a different route.  The five charms would go in my hair, as would the medallion from the belly chain.

The first charm to hit my hair was from the belly chain.  It was a medallion-like coin with a Goddess symbol on one side with the triple moon and the Green Man stamped on the other.  It just seemed to want to fall with the Green Man turned towards my dread, hidden, only to appear when needed, and the Goddess turned out to face the world.  When I bound them into my hair, I thought of them as my connection to the divine, but I think now they're something more.  The Goddess represents the outward image I need to have, the balanced Goddess of my own home and family.  I need to be the divine within myself, something I've long since forgotten about being.  The Green Man represents everything about myself that I keep hidden, and need to keep hidden.  He is that wild side to me, the incredibly natural aspect, the part that's deep and earthy.  He's the side that no one really understands because it's hidden and obscure in the wilderness, and perfectly happy and okay with being there.  He only peeks forth to show his face at times of need, and so I need to let that wild, passionate nature only poke it's head when it is time to do it's work, when I need to be that feral animal to defend my family, or to share it's wisdom.  This has perhaps the deepest meaning of anything I've had in my hair, and I've carried it since it was purchased at Unicorn Books back home over twelve years ago.  I'm pretty sure this too was a gift, but I can't remember who gifted it upon me.

The next was a horse head pendant that was gifted to me years ago.  My friend's brother found it while we were digging around the foundation to fix the damages to it when we just got out of 7th or 8th grade, I forget after all these years.  She was moving.  He found it and thought of me.  It went on my pendant which already had one other horse charm on it.  I wore that around for years.  Just recently I found it again.  I wasn't sure at first if it would go into my dreads, but I decided it needed to be there.  It would be a constant reminder that there were hidden treasures all around me, and it was bound into my hair so that I might bring more hidden treasures into my life.  Yes, you have to look a little harder to find them, and they pop up in the most unexpected places, but they're always worth it in the end.  It's also a horse, the animal that was labeled as my below from my totem reading, that which is supposed to ground me, which is interesting by a Native American standpoint from what the person doing my totems said.  It's kind of fitting that I'll end up with several in my hair when all is said and done.  Horses have meant a lot to me over the years.  They were companions for a while, and partners in the show ring.  I worked mucking out their stalls and one even broke my finger, something that never healed quite right, a constant reminder.  They're a creature that I truly miss in my life a lot more than I thought I ever would.

Next to follow was a lion, right up close to my face.  I joked that he represented Leo, since there have been so many meaningful Leos in my life, like my dad and Chesh.  It would represent their influence in my life.  I'm not entirely sure why the lion found his way to me, or who gave him to me, but I definitely remember it having some connection with strength.  Thinking deeper on it, it makes perfect sense.  Not only am I Alice in Wonderland, but a lot of people used to peg me as Dorothy in the land of Oz.  I swear, that was only the long brown hair worn in braids.  I'm not very much a Dorothy kind of gal, but I am definitely the Cowardly Lion.  I'm timid when it comes to other people and I'm afraid of virtually everything.  Maybe this lion can help me learn the same lesson as the Cowardly Lion did, that I've had the courage all along, I've just needed a reason to seek it out.  Now he's right there in my face, driving me nuts and annoying me with each day that goes by.  He tugs at the other dreads and tangles in with his legs and tail.  He's really quite the nuisance.  I have to admit, on several occasions I thought it might be better to remove him from my hair, or to wrap the dreads around him so he won't get tangled up, but I guess it's his way of constantly reminding me to pay attention to him, and he's right, I need to.  Fittingly, he's the charm that tangles in my hair all the time, right there on the dread that catches on my eyebrow ring all the time!  Maybe they were destined to be friends!

After all that I added a silly little bead.  It was from a bracelet my daughter broke years back.  I warned her it would happen if she kept stretching it out that much, and that's exactly what she did.  The bracelet pieces went into my make-up bag to be fixed later, but that ends never came about.  The pieces fell out one by one as I went from show to show and house to house.  Eventually all that remained was one green bead.  Having nothing else to do with it, I asked my daughter if I could use it, and then in it went, into my hair, a little something to remind me of my daughter.  It's meaning?  Well, a green, happy bead with a flower on it should do nothing more than draw happiness into my life!  I could always use a little more happiness and a little more brightness to my day, couldn't everyone?  It's easy to forget it's tucked back there, but when I need it, I always know just where to find it, all tucked away and safe.

The next was a big Gothic cross that I was given years ago in high school by my friend Missy.  She'd give it to me for the school play, Fortress, where I played a girl named Kim Nolan, obsessed with Superman and her best friend, a boy who lived in the funeral home.  I wore that thing everywhere, and when I finally did take it off for good, I kept telling myself it would go into my dance costume bag and it would be attached to something sooner or later.  Just the other day I pulled it out when I was unpacking.  I'd thought it was gone, disappeared in some move or another, yet here it was!  Not only is it a reminder of the past I'd had and the friends I miss, but it's also a good ward against vampires!  I know, it's not something I really need to worry about, but in a way, it is.  It's an excellent shield against those who would suck the life out of me and cast me aside.  Sure, they may not drink my blood, but they're certainly just as draining.  May this not-so-little piece ward me against those kinds of people, and people with those intents.

Currently the last piece to go into my hair is one that makes people wonder.  It's the 1st Cavalry Division shield.  This is important for many reasons.  First, it was the military that played in my marriage, my impending divorce, and the birth of my youngest child.  I never would have had the life I did now were it not for the military.  It's an occasion worth marking.  It was a gift during the first deployment we went through so  I wore it around my neck on a little black ribbon.  It's been traveling around in my make-up bag ever since.  To me, this represents all the changes that have happened in my life, and is there to help guard me against making the same mistakes again.  It connects me to all the people who have left my life, that I miss incredibly much, many of which were taken all over the country (and some of them even out of the country!) as a part of military service, or upon end of their military careers as they go home.  The list is far too long to mention here, but I love you all.  I miss you very much, and you know who you are.  Be safe, all of you!

I've got other pieces of armor that have yet to go in and I'll talk more about them later.  There's the crossed labarys, a sign of lesbianism in this modern age, but also a sign of the Amazons.  I could use a little warrior woman energy in my life.  It fittingly belongs right next to my lion for courage.  I've got an old Goddess pendant that I've been hanging on to for years and she's very special to me, all curled up in the fetal position like an infant, made of beautiful knot work, sheltered in a knot work crescent moon.  She speaks of rebirth.  Another is a horse pendent that my grandmother gave me when I couldn't have been more than eight or ten. There is another horse too, and another cross.  One charm looks very much like a Christmas ornament.  Another is a lizard with a hinged body.  There are some keys and some rings if I can ever find a way to add them.  My dreads aren't thick enough to wear a ring as a bead, even at a tiny size five or six.  Finally, there is another pentacle that Chesh used to wear as his own.  These all have their own meanings, they're all part of that which protects me and brings good things into my life.  They are my armor.  They are my amulets.  They are my shields.  Certainly I'd be just as well without them, but to me, they're physical representations of something significant, something I need to remember.

I was reading in a book about Plymouth Rock not long ago how the rock was really meaningless.  Chances are the Pilgrims or First Comers never actually set foot on the rock.  It's likely the rock was just there, a witness to it all, but often times people like a solid and tangible reminder of history.  They like to point at something and say, "There, right there!  That's where it all happened."  That's why the Plymouth Rock, in all likeliness just an unusually big rock sitting on the coastline as any other unusually large rock may want to do, ended up becoming such a landmark of significance, all bound up in honor surrounded by Greek columns, and etched with the year 1620.  That's kind of how it is with my adornments, as goes for my piercings.  A part of me wants to be able to have something physical that I can touch and say, "This!  This right here is where it comes from!  This right here was from when it happened!"  It's a physical representation of something so incredibly important.

So this is it, my virtual armor.  These are the pieces I not only use to adorn my dreads, but also for so much more purpose.  These are more than just meaningless trinkets.  They're things that have meaning to me, both in the people who gave them to me, and what they represent in my life.

Some Say It Took Long Enough...

Those of you who know me know I've always been terribly thin.  Most of my friends worry about me because of it.  A lot of my friends have commented that I look unhealthy because I'm so tiny.  For years I used to chalk that up to jealousy, but the truth is, I didn't know why I was so incredibly thin.  It's been a mystery to me.

Well, as my weight started to drop to the same dangerously low level it was at when I found out I was pregnant with my oldest, I started to think something was wrong.  It's not healthy for my weight to drop this low.  If I lose another five pounds I'm putting myself at risk for heart attacks and other health problems.  It's time to figure out what I'm doing wrong.

I set myself up with a diet tracker app on my phone.  I was kind of curious what I could find out by tracking my diet, fitness level, and all of that, so I chose My Fitness Pal.  Normally these programs are geared towards weight loss, but I think there's nothing wrong with using them for weight gain.  Pretty much anyone can sign up for a free account, search thousands of kinds of food, and track their diet.  For me, it also tells me how much extra calories I've earned every day by working out, but I would think it would work a little differently for someone trying to lose weight.  At the beginning of the process they ask you what your goals are, and you can choose fitness goals, weight gain/loss goals, etc.  Obviously I chose a weight gain goal.

Later I was kicking around on the website and noticed they have these nifty little calculators.  They tell you your BMI (which I know mine is considered unhealthy), as well as your BMR, which is your body's metabolic rate when at rest.  In other words, how many calories does your body burn just to exist each day if it did nothing but stay at rest.  As I found out, I need 1,200 calories every day for my height, weight, and age.  How much do I normally eat?  Well, let's just say less than 1,000.  It's not that I'm trying to starve myself or anything.  I honestly think I'm eating a lot more than I do.  I'm just not hungry for more than that!  Now add to that all the calories burned when I did yoga, dancing, and running around after the kids.  Obviously I'm requiring more calories than I'm consuming by a good deal.  No wonder I can't keep a steady, healthy weight!

So what has this magic program told me?  I need to be eating over 2,100 calories a day if I want to start working towards my weight gain goals.  I should probably include some yoga and strength training if I don't want all that extra weight I gain to be fat.  Even so, I've got to work on building up a healthy body weight, and I'm starting to think I just can't do it!  I can't eat that much!  It's hard not to come to 500 or more calories short!  Yesterday I was almost 900 calories short!  It feels like I've got to force feed myself a lot more than I'm used to eating.

I know some people would be jealous of me.  They wish they could be as small and tiny as I am.  They think it's easier to battle being underweight than it is to battle being overweight.  Is it?  Honestly, I don't know.  All I do know is that I'm having a terribly hard time of it.  I've got to figure out how to train my body to eat and want more food every day.  I need to do things that will encourage muscle growth so I can be putting on healthy weight, but for now, I'd just take any weight gain at all!  I need to completely overhaul my lifestyle because clearly I'm just not getting enough of what I need.

That's one thing I will say about little programs like these.  When you have to write down every little thing you eat, it gives you a realistic perspective of what you're doing to your body.  For example, I always thought I ate a lot of food, but in reality, I eat three meals each day and a couple of snacks, sure, but the portions I eat are so small that I'm not eating as much as I think I am.  I know for others I've talked to, it's been the opposite kind of eye opening experience.  They see exactly how many calories they do take in every day, and exactly how much they eat, and it helps them limit their own choices.

For me, this isn't so much about society's standards on what's considered too fat or too thin.  This is about being healthy.  So much of my life I've had people assuming I'm so incredibly healthy because I'm thin and when they see me eat, more often than not I can put away a good meal!  Of course, what they're not seeing is I'll put away one good meal each day, and then skip out on breakfast or lunch because I'm just not hungry.  A lot of people assume thin means healthy, but thin can also mean nutrient deficient.  If I really wanted to be careful about my health, I'd be taking a vitamin supplement every day to make sure I get the nutrients I need.  At this rate, from the looks of it, I would always be snacking on some kind of healthy snack too, though it may just have to be pretty constant because healthy snacks are typically low calorie snacks.  I might just become that image in the cartoon of the little animal that's always hungry and eating everything in sight...

Being healthy isn't easy.  Between choosing good foods to eat, living a healthy lifestyle, getting enough exercise, and everything else, it's a lot to manage.  It's not as simple as living your life and hoping for the best.  It makes me wonder what kind of image I'm going to be showing my kids, especially if they see that their mother's got to eat all day to maintain a healthy weight.  What if that's not healthy for them?  What if that has the effect of making them gain too much weight, and as a result, be unhealthy?  There's so much to consider and so much to think about.  For me?  I'm going to see what I can scrounge up to toss another few calories into the mix for this morning.  I want to see if I can actually stomach eating as much as I have to in order to gain the weight I need!

Dreads at (almost) Nine Months

I've been thinking a lot about my dreads lately.  They look kind of, well, shaggy and rough.  I've got whispy bits sticking out everywhere.  There are all kinds of crazy loops and bumps.  I kind of like the loops and bumbs, but I wanted my hair to be neater, and those bumps were a lot of the reason my hair was able to pull loose.  I keep hoping that sooner rather than later I'm going to have the beautiful dreads everyone says I'll some day have.  Supposedly dreads start looking pretty beautiful after they've hit the one year mark.  I'm hoping mine will do the same, but with only one month to go, I'm not so confident.  I think it's going to take longer than that, but it may have to do with my dreads being so incredibly short when I started them out.  I barely had enough hair to dread!  Thankfully, though it's been a struggle, they're finally getting there.

Having gotten sick of looking at my dreads doing crazy things, I wasn't terribly thrilled with the overall effect.  I just want my hair to start looking good.  I love my dreads and all, but I'm tired of waking up every morning to having little wisps everywhere.  It doesn't look very neat and it's only making it easier for the dreads to eat each other.  I decided it was time to break my previous pattern and do some serious maintenance.  As much as I wanted to let my dreads do their own things, something had to be done.  I've been doing some palm rolling with each shower, but it hasn't been getting me anywhere, so it was time to take it up another level.

The other day, after getting out of the bath, palm rolling, and taking a "before" picture, I decided it was time for some serious work.  I tried crocheting the dreads in front, but it didn't do anything.  I've crocheted other people's dreads before just fine, but my own?  Apparently that just can't happen.  Instead I thought I would just bind up the roots so that I could go in and crochet them later.  I started working in the front, working my way to the back where I knew it was going to be a nightmarish trouble spot.  I would have to rip apart all those dreads and I wasn't looking forward to it.

I found out early on that my hair wasn't even going to co-operate with that.  I had to bind my hair pretty much all the way down or it was just going to attempt to dread together the whole length.  I'm impressed!  My hair really wants to dread, it just doesn't want to do it the way I think it should!  Even now, with just the ends loose, my hair still tries to dread together, but it's a little more well behaved.  I bound them up pretty well through my hair.  The back was a nightmare.  It was all tangled in to each other, so it took twice as long as the rest of my hair.  I was thrilled to see the results though.  It looked fantastic!  I just hope it helps all those scrappy bits clean up so my dreads will start looking pretty good.  In a couple of months my dreads will be a year old.  I really hope that they can start looking pretty fantastic before then!

In other news, I've found the perfect way to tie my hair back to keep it out of my face, yay!  I have a fantastic bandana/scarf kind of thing that I bought at the local shop (Gaia's Garden) a year and a half ago.  It's called a MayaWear Bandana, and it's wonderful!  It can be worn as a headband or pulled back like a more traditional scarf.  It's very hippie and I love it.  Mine is a beautiful aqua color, but they've got a variety of colors from African style woven patterns to solid colors.  I wish I could buy a few more!  They're so practical for every-day wear, especially with dreads!  They're quick, easy, and convenient.  Unfortunately, they do make it a good deal easier to pop the elastics in my hair, but I suppose that's just something I'll have to live with.  I'd rather have my hair back and neat than worry about popping the elastics!

Real Friends Versus "Facebook Friends"

Just about everyone these days has a Facebook account.  Everyone knows about Facebook, the social networking site and all it's fabulousness.  It's the replacement for MySpace, which seems to have been largely forgotten over the past couple of years.  In some respects, it's the greatest thing to have happened to social networking.  It's a great way to keep in touch with friends and family, stay updated on events, and all of that.  Unfortunately, it can also become a huge time waster, and it can mean your life is public to a lot more than just the people you want it to be.

I've got to admit, I've kind of become sucked in to the Facebook generation.  My friend count has skyrocketed more times than I can count, no matter how many times I've tried to cut it back.  I honestly don't think I've ever had less than a hundred friends on Facebook since my account was new.  It's a little disturbing to think about, really.  Do I really have that many friends?

All of this started when I considered adding some moms from the co-op yesterday.  I had to think about what kind of view they'd get of my life if I added them to my Facebook.  I really wanted to.  They've become a truly influential part of my life and it would be nice to keep updated with whatever's going on with them.  It may seem like something easy, but it wasn't so much that decision that was challenging.  It got me thinking about everything connecting to my Facebook.  I put a lot out there, and there's a lot of people on friends' list that I might not want knowing that kind of information.

It was about a year and a half ago that I realized perhaps I was putting a bit much out there with my Facebook profile.  I would include updates on the divorce and things like that.  It always seemed that no matter how careful I was, friends of his would read what I wrote and inform him.  It felt like having spies on my Facebook. I wasn't free to express myself and what I was really going through.  I felt so exposed, like my privacy was no longer being respected.  I'd deleted my husband, anyone I suspected might be a "spy", and locked down my profile so only friends could access my updates.  I thought that would probably fix everything.  I would feel like I had my privacy again.

About six months ago I realized that a lot of my friends were a part of the dance community.  Being a belly dancer, this shouldn't be surprising.  I wanted to stay connected, but I felt like I couldn't have my privacy again.  I don't want to talk about my divorce with the dance community.  I don't want to bog them down with pictures of my kids.  I don't want them knowing private details of my life, not that I'm posting much that's private on my Facebook, but they're just not that kind of friends, you know?  I created a dance profile specifically for that and moved most of my dance contacts over to that instead.  Only a handful remained on my profile.  I felt much more comfortable with my own privacy knowing I could keep some details of my life out of "public view" only to choose who I wanted to share with instead, my own personal social circle.

Still, my friend list was massive, and grew.  As of this morning I had a total of 175 friends on my list.  How many of them can I possibly know?  How many of them are really my friends?  How many care to read my updates, view my pictures, or anything else.  How many of them do I skim over when I'm reading my news feed because it's just the eight millionth game announcement or request or they simply don't say anything I'm interested in?  How many of them say things that challenge my views, get under my skin, and make me want to start a debate when perhaps it's better to keep my mouth shut?  And are all these people really the kinds of people I want seeing pictures of my kids, hearing about my life, and in general being up to date on my goings on?  Is this really something I should be comfortable with?  And of those friends, how many of them would really be there if I needed a shoulder to cry on, friendly advice, or someone to listen as I vent my frustration?  How many of them would I be there for?

Cutting back the first 75 friends wasn't too terribly hard.  There were a lot of people on there I was involved with through dance or other things that really aren't involved in my life.  There were a number of people from my high school that I just don't care to stay in touch with.  There were a handful of people from the local Pagan group that I never talk to anymore.  Those were easy to cut out.  In general if there's been no contact between the two of us for over a year or I really don't know you that well, then it's pretty easy for you to be gone.  There were plenty of people I figured I can always add later, or I'll see them around.

Then things started getting harder.  There's something about holding on to the past that seems like it's such a great idea.  It's not easy to let go of the crowd from the old game group.  I don't want to distance myself from the fire spinners and some of my favorite dancers.  It's not always easy to let go of ex-boyfriends I still want to be friends with.  It's challenging to admit that I'll never see these people again, and in truth, I really don't want to.  They were what they were in my life at the time, but I've moved on and it's time to accept that.  It doesn't help me to hold on to those old pieces of my past, not unless they have some purpose in my future.  It's time to move on and live in the now.

After all that I managed to cut back by another 30 friends.  Honestly, I thought I'd feel bad about it, but already I feel so much better!  It's a huge relief to know I'm not going to be staring at all those faces and updates every time I log on, knowing those people really aren't a part of my life.  It's a huge relief to let go and know that those are people I'll see if I'm meant to, but I won't if I'm not.  I can stop holding out for hope that we can once again be friends some day.

Feeling pretty confident at how easy all of that turned out to be (and how wonderful it felt) I decided to go for a third and final purge.  Anything more for one day might just bee too much.  For starters, it's a HUGE time drain.  It takes a lot of time to click and delete every one.  There's no bulk delete action.  I didn't know how many more people I could delete without feeling a little bad about it.  There are a handful of people I still want to keep on the list because, well, I still really care about them and I want to stay in touch, but the whole thing was pretty darn brutal!

When that was done I'd shaved about another nearly 20 Facebook friends!  Can you believe it?  That means I've stopped being "friends" with over 125 people!  It feels so incredibly freeing!

Looking at all of that, I've come to realize the shocking difference between Facebook friends and real friends.  I've had a lot of Facebook friends.  They come and go over time.  Some of them are people that really were influential in my life at one point or another.  Most of them have fallen away.  We've grown apart and distant.  We've taken different directions in our lives.  It's perfectly normal, and in times before Facebook, that's just how it was.  There's something about Facebook that gets people thinking they have to hang on to these old friendships that have fallen by the wayside.  They have to keep on their computer to check for updates from friends they rarely hear about, and often times truly don't care what those people are doing.  Instead of letting go of the past and growing up, it's too easy to leave that as a landmark for change in our lives.  We need to hold ourselves up to those old friends and see where we stand.

Well, I've decided I don't need that anymore.  I'm grown up now.  I'm a big girl.  I don't need a bunch of people that aren't really a part of my life checking in with me and giving me their two cents.  I don't need anyone's permission to live my life the way I choose.  I just need to be myself.  In truth, I feel much happier knowing that the people that remain are people I truly love and enjoy in my life.  So for those of you out there who are reading this and are more than just my Facebook friends, thanks for being there for me.  You have no idea how much I appreciate you!

Feeling off Track

I don't know what's been going on with me lately.  I've finally figured out where I want to be and what I want to be doing, but I feel like I'm totally missing the point.  I'm being sidetracked by things that really are important, but seem to be taking away from my goals.  It seems like I've somehow lost touch with the kind o person I want to be and somehow this stranger has intervened to take it's place.

This past week has been spent largely cleaning and organizing my house.  I've got all the science and nature books put on one shelf.  Another shelf is half history books, half coloring and craft books.  That frees up more room in my daughter's book shelves to keep the books she actually wants.  I'm hoping that will mean she can fit all of her chapter books and everything else.  It's amazing how much space is freed up just by organizing the books.  It helps to have all the books that relate to school in a place where they can all share them.

The living room book shelves started the journey.  I've been cleaning them from top to bottom.  The whole room looks so much nicer without all the crazy clutter, which means once I get all the books up off the floor and into the places they need to go, I can finally feel a bit better about having people over!  It's also nice to be able to find the books I want to read when I want to read them.  I've been doing a decent amount of reading lately.  It's nice to feel like I'm expanding my mind.

The reading I've been doing lately is different too.  I've been focusing on non-fiction reading.  I'm trying to develop a focus on things that relate to my life, spirituality, diet, parenting, and those sorts of topics.  It's been refreshing to sit back and read for a while without feeling guilty about it.  After all, reading isn't a guilty pleasure.  It's expanding my mind and helping to set a good example for my children.  It's a great way to relax too.

Still, in all of this I'm starting to feel like maybe my life is starting to get off track again.  I'm cleaning, reading, and taking care of my home, but what about my spirituality?  What about changing the patterns in my life?  What about becoming the person I want to be?  Am I going to lose some of that in my quest to get my physical surroundings up to par so we can maintain the status quo?  Or does that somehow relate into it all, that being a more "normal" family somehow will help me on my way to accepting my new life as Mommy above all else, putting aside any other labels?

It just feels like maybe I'm losing a part of myself in all of this, that somehow I'm missing something that's incredibly integral to who I am.  I just wish I knew what it was so I could take a step forward and truly embrace that part of my life.  I am who I am.  I just hope I'm not starting to lose sense of that.

New Morning Routine...and Tea

It's morning.  I've been up for a while, which is a shock to most who know me well.  The fact that I'm up before 9am is a minor miracle.  The fact that I'm not cranky and crabby on top of it may make some people who know me who brainwashed me, because this isn't what I'm normally like.  I'm the lazy mom that rolls out of bed last minute and does as little in the possible in the morning, generally because I stay up all night.

Over the past few days I've been experimenting with a new sleep routine.  I don't sleep in anymore.  I'm trying desperately not to let myself get out of bed after 7am.  It's been working out great.  I'm up when my kids get up, and I'm surprisingly not crabby.  Next week I think I may try and bump it earlier by a half hour and then again the week after that so I'll be getting up at 6am.  Then I'll have enough time to do yoga in the morning before the kids wake up.

Yoga is one of those things I used to do in the mornings way back when I still worked at the eyeglass company.  I would have to get up at 5am in order to have time in the morning, and there was barely room.  We were staying with a friend in his living room.  We had an air mattress out and slept on that, but that took up so much room that it was hard to find space to do yoga.  I would have to keep it really quiet because my daughter and her father were asleep.  I would do an hour of yoga, eat a light breakfast, then walk to the station to catch the 7am train.  Every morning I would show up almost two hours early for work or more, but waiting for a later train would leave me a half hour late, so there wasn't much in the way of option there.  I'd spend my time waiting with a good book, eating a horrible breakfast from the fast-food joint in the food court or hanging out at the coffee shop with some tea or hot chocolate.  It wasn't much of a fancy ritual or anything, but it was my ritual each morning, and I loved it.

There's just something about yoga in the morning.  It's invigorating and wakes up the body, sure, but there's something more to it.  It's not just gentle stretching and strengthening.  It's also meditative.  There's something about moving through the poses, focusing on the inner thoughts and the actual feelings and sensations in the body (and in all honesty here, I'm thinking, "My body is SO not flexible enough for that!")  I feel more connected to myself when I do yoga, more present in my own physical form, more aware of everything going on in my own person.  It's wonderful.

All of that ended the first time when I broke my elbow.  After three months of not being able to do much of anything followed by almost a year of being unable to do yoga because I didn't have the strength, I got out of the habit.  It's so easy to get lazy about things, even when it's something enjoyable.  I tried on a couple of occasions to get back into it, but I never really did.  I've heard that it takes 21 days to make a new habit, good or bad, and I've never been able to last out that three week period before.  After a couple of days I'm making excuses about not having enough time for yoga, which is largely true when I get up to a house full of bustling activities, everyone already doing their own things for the day.  There's no peaceful, quiet time for me to focus on yoga.  Even if I shut myself in my room, the kids come in demanding this or that.  They don't exactly make it easy.  Besides, once the day is rolling, it's often easy to drop things off the schedule when things get hectic, and it's all too easy to make excuses of being too busy or tired.

Of course, getting up before the kids is a ritual in the making.  It's going to involve cleaning my living room so I can have a space to do yoga.  It will mean getting my yoga  mat out of the closet.  I'll have to start waking up consistently about an hour earlier each day.  It's going to take some time to get there, but I have a goal.  From there it's keeping up with it for 21 days so it becomes habit, and hopefully after that it will be so much easier to get up to in the morning.  That's going to be my first goal, last out 21 days of daily yoga.

On another note, nothing says morning like tea.  Tea and yoga kind of go hand-in-hand.  Most of the people I know who do yoga are also big tea drinkers.  It's probably got to do with yoga and tea both being healthy for you, so one would imagine that would be a good combination.  It's a great way to wake up in the morning, and truth be told, I like it better than coffee.  I've never been much of a coffee drinker anyway.  That's what I'm doing this morning.  Sitting at my computer, drinking some tea.  My cabinet is full of tea.  I've got so much tea it's almost shocking, considering most of it's never even been touched.  It's time I made tea a part of my morning ritual too.  It's probably a lot healthier for me than most of my other morning routines!  At least I can say it's good for me!

All in all, I think I'm taking a positive step forward in my life.  Most mornings I've woken up crabby, just wanting to be left alone only to be ambushed by children that want my attention, and haven't been getting it since I've been sleeping.  Even having someone else get up with the kids in the morning doesn't seem to stop the madness when I finally get up.  Now I'm less cranky in the morning, more focused, and much happier.  I don't know if it's the quality of sleep I've been getting or if it's got to do with the much quieter pace in the morning, but I'm feeling so much more approachable.  It leaves me with a couple of hours to get myself collected in the morning too.  I can spend some time on the computer, reading a book, or even just sitting to meditate by myself for a while before my day needs to get rolling.  It leaves me to feel less rushed when I finally do have to get up and go do something.  I guess, in a way, I feel so much more balanced, and I'm continuing to follow that path.