I Don't Have A Word

I don't have a word for 2015. I didn't have a word for 2014, or 2013 as far as that goes. I'm sure that this "no word status" will get me banned from the blogosphere and whatnot, but I just don't have a word. Not even to your mutha.

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The truth is I want all the words. When I see another friend posting that his/her word is fantabulous or whatever, I want to clap my hands for them, throw confetti for them and think of my word, but I just can't narrow it down to one word. Just can't do it. I want them all.

I'm envious of people who can be consistent and decisive and can carefully select one word for their inspiration for the coming year. I just can't do it.

I can, however, come up with other inspiration for my year:

• My song this year: "Let It Be" by the Beatles. This is the year that I will let the world and what turns it happen. I'm pretty sure that my buddies John and Paul wrote these words for me:  

Shine until tomorrow--let it be. 

• My quote this year: This comes from Maya Angelou's poem, "On The Pulse Of Morning:"

You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning. 

 What a wonderful world this would be if we all simply, with hope, greeted each other and said, "Good Morning." Except, let's declare that morning shouldn't begin before 8:45, m'kay?

• My scripture this year: 1 Corinthians 16:14--Do all things with love. Many people (specifically people on Facebook who really don't know me at all) have questioned my faith. In Oklahoma, it's hard to not be a Bible-thumping southern Baptist. You're either evangelical or you're not. The truth of the matter is that I'm pretty moderate, which is considered very liberal in Oklahoma. And I'm okay with that. People can question my faith--you know what I'm going to do about it? Love them anyway. (See what I did there? Already practicing...)

• My plan this year: Be present for my family. Work toward my goals. Respect the people who join me on this journey. Think positive. Celebrate goodness. Laugh. Love. Read. Visit. Share. Write. Question. Discuss. 

Too bad I don't have a word. Thank goodness I have them all. 

Learning to Fly

"Move, little birdie," I uttered in vain as I drove the minivan carefully beside the baby bird who was perched in the middle of the road.

"Momma!" Daughter 1 cried out looking back at the birdie still in the middle of the road. "He's hurt!"

"I don't think so," I assured her. "He's just young as learning to fly."

"How do you know it's a he?" she argued.

"You just called it a he," I reminded her.

"Yeah, but, he might be hurt," she said still looking through the back window, rolling her eyes at my gender pronoun choice.

Despite my confidence that it was just a smallish bird who was on his first solo flight, I turned the van around.

"Are we going to get him?" she squealed as I pulled over beside the tiny winged thing who still had visible down on his body.

"No," I said. "We'll just help him get to the side."

We carefully approached the tiny thing and I snapped a picture. Daughter 1 giggled at the sight and then the birdie awkwardly took off flying into the wind. This is to say that he flapped his wings as if he were trying to power a small village and floated backward, finally landing with the tiniest of thuds in the still-green grass.

"Oh my gosh, Momma!" Daughter 1 continued her giggling. "You were right!" She sounded incredulous.

We darted to the spot in the grass to check on the little guy.

We determined after closer examination against the green lawn that he was probably a she. She was probably a cardinal. She was beautiful nonetheless. I named her Rosie the redbird. My camera clicked, Daughter 1 giggled, and Rosie took off again.

She flew longer and father and higher than before. Daughter 1 and I chased after her just in time for her to come chasing back at us, tweeting, as if she were saying, "Where are the brakes on this thing?" She battled the wind and twisted and turned before she landed in neighbor's decorative grass. Or weeds. Or garlic bed. Wherever.

We giggled some more, and she took off yet again, tweeting.

"I think she's telling us thanks for helping her learn to fly," Daughter 1 said as we walked back to the van, confident that the little bird wouldn't be sitting in the middle of the road any time soon.

"I think so too," I smiled.

"I still wish we could have taken her home," Daughter 1 sighed.

My mom, who was sitting in the van watching the shenanigans of her older daughter and oldest granddaughter said, "If you love something set it free..."

Because Daughter 1 is sorta a smart a$$ (no comments about genetics, y'all) interrupted her Nana and said, "Then I set my momma free."

"That's okay," I smiled, "I'll always come back to you."

The Curse of Technology

Since I confessed my love for all things technological, I need to now confess my disdain for the same.

That's right ... As much as I love it, I hate it just as much. I've thought long and hard about why I am apparently a walking oxymoron or paradox or maybe both. And I think it boils down to this: Online, we are too gripe-y.

Today, a hot, trending article popped onto my newsfeed that was titled, "Dear SAHM: Shut Up" or something just as stupid. I didn't even read the article because it had the word Shut Up in it. That's just rude.

If anyone should have to shut up, it's someone telling someone else to shut up. (Did you follow that? I know what I'm trying to say.)

Then, I clicked through to an article about why Megan Trainor's song "All About That Bass" is body shaming. Um ... what? In essence, the author said she was offended because she tried gaining weight and it just didn't work out for her. The line "I ain't no size 2" hurt her heart. I'm not denying her feelings; if she feels that way, she feels that way. The easy thing to do would be to not listen to the song.

I'm typically offended by gangster rap; therefore, I don't listen to it. Ever. But, I'm not going to write an entire blog post about it.

Oh, wait...

See? This is what happens when the internet gets too loud and obnoxious: I become gripe-y as well.

Just think about how wonderful this entire world would be if we got offended at such things as hunger and abuse and homlessness. And, instead of griping about it, we donated food and money and raised awareness and helped a neighbor out.

Is this enough to make me give up my online life. Pffft ... no. I'll just look for the lovely.

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The lovely like my friend Jeanabec who just posted tonight a prayer request for a panhandler that was heavy on her heart. She didn't know him, but she wanted us to join her in prayer. Beautiful.

The lovely like my friend Alan who's turned to social media to send healing, comforting thoughts and prayers for his sick brother.

The lovely like my friend Katie who just gave birth to a darling baby girl today.

The lovely like my own kiddo who searches for the perfect quote to accompany her fun pictures on Instagram.

I'm going to sign off now and think about way I can make my little corner of the world lovely.

My Favorite Things: Misti Pryor

Misti is in the middle--with the cleavage.

Misti Pryor is one of my favorite things. I first met Misti when we were both cast in the NWA Listen To Your Mother show in 2012. I began stalking her on Facebook, Twitter and her blog because that's what I do, and I instantly fell in love with her because she was so welcoming and accepting and authentic and just loved you from the get-go. Then I met her in real life and understood that  that was her--the real her. The next year, which was last year, she said I could be her sidekick for Listen To Your Mother 2013 in Oklahoma City. I hope you love her too because unless you are a downright mean person, she loves you too.

Favorite Thing.

I “officially” graduate with my Masters degree in 20^TH & 21^ST century literature on Friday.  I’m not participating in the ceremony, I’m not getting hooded or walking across the stage. I’m just anxiously awaiting the delivery of my diploma.

Graduate school isn’t for the weak, that’s for sure.

I had no idea just how much of it was a pure test of wills versus a test of knowledge until it was all finally over. It was a long, difficult and expensive road that took some twists and turns and in the end, delivered me not into a classroom of a ph.d program like I had planned, but into the world of non-profit leadership advocating for girls and working with volunteers.

As December is 1/3 over, maybe more by the time I finish this post, I look back and take stock and think about the year. If you put any trust in the Facebook Year In Review, you can see that this year was a big one, chocked full of new experience and friends and change.

Listen To Your Mother: OKC was a huge success. HUGE! We donated over $3000.00 in cash and diapers to Infant Crisis Services; we sold out the house and then had SRO for the event. Everyone involved worked well as a team and had a sense of connection to a bigger entity and that was really my goal for this thing.  These women, the cast, the production team, and everyone involved from the sponsors to the staff were beyond anything I ever expected. I’m excited to start work on the 2014 show.

I sold my house to Julie and moved to Norman with Mark. THAT was huge. There were lots of tangles and tangibles and time eating THINGS that came with that. I’m still not unpacked fully. We are still not so organized that I can have all of my clothes and shoes in one closet (Silly historic homes with tiny closets) but it feels good. The transition wasn’t without some bumps. I don’t have any friends here that have known me longer than a year. Not to say that I don’t have any friends here, but really, anyone that knows-me-knows me  well, they don’t live in Norman. And that is lonely many times. Having someone to go grab lunch with on the spur of the moment, or go sit at a bar and have Sunday Funday with and watch some football, that life seems to be on hold right now. That really has been the biggest adjustment to the move.

Quitting the hair business and moving out of academia and into the non-profit world was also huge. HUGE! The learning curve has been steep, but I feel like I have navigated it fairly well. I just keep saying, “if I can make it to Thanksgivng/Christmas/Through the Cookie Sale” and I have no doubt that I will make it. I’m already looking forward to next year, and how I will do things better than this year. So much better.  But I do miss my clients; I miss doing hair and formulating color and the community of my Salon W family. I miss them terribly. I miss walking into Kamps Meat Market next door and getting some delicious lentil salad for lunch, or grabbing an after work drink and commiserating on all of the crazy that we saw.

We bought our little teardrop trailer and took her out for a few adventures this year. Santa Fe, Colorado, Talihena Oklahoma, Granite (MeMe Lois’ backyard to be exact).  It’s the funnest thing ever and I cannot wait to see where we take her in 2014. Looking forward, that is one of the reasons that I write about these changes and events. I like to make note of them, to place them here so that I can look back and reflect. I don’t focus on the things that I miss, or the bumps in the ever changing road. They are part of the journey.  It’s the looking forward part that really butters my muffin.

Graduate school almost broke me into a thousand pieces. But in a few weeks, I’ll have that piece of paper hanging on my office wall and no one can take that away from me. Gearing down from the ever constant stress has been interesting, and getting to actually read a book or two for fun has been a newly rediscovered joy.

 I didn’t land anywhere near where I thought I was going when I started the program, and Lord how happy that makes me.

That is the biggest take away for me from this entire year.

Joseph Campbell said it, and I’ve read it over and over but it wasn’t until this year that I GOT IT.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” 

This life that was waiting on me? It’s a pretty awesome one.

In fact, it is my favorite thing.

"Why?"

"Can I go with you, Momma?" Both daughters have asked. Not at the same time, of course, that would require that they work together and since this past weekend was an extended weekend, working together had long gone out the door.

"Nope," I said, only half-apologetically. I would love to have a weekend with just my family away in the wooded wilderness, but this is not the weekend for this. "It's for regular bloggers who are adult women only." I gave a very detailed description of the attendees so that they wouldn't think there was a chance they could go with me.

"But why are you going?" Good question. Good question, indeed.

I'm going away this weekend to Arkansas Women Bloggers Unplugged. I went last year and had a great time. In fact, last year, I got to visit with Stephanie Buckley, the beautiful blogger behind The Park Wife and the founder of The Women Bloggers. And when Steph and I visited, she asked me to start up and manage Oklahoma Women Bloggers. And the year since has been nothing short of amazing.

"But why are you going, Momma?" they have each whined multiple times. And it's a valid question. I want to go because I am really looking forward to the break--let's be clear on that point, of course. I want to go so that I can socialize with other women who put their lives on the internet for all to read as well--there are a lot of us, but we're a rare breed. I want to go so that I can learn new things and teach new things as well.  I go with that answer because I hope they see me as a lifelong learner and choose to be a lifelong learner for themselves.

"To learn how to be a better blogger."

"Why do you want to be a better blogger?" Ideally, I'd love to earn a living as a blogger. I'd love to write all day long. But, even if that opportunity presented itself, I'd have to be really passionate about writing--and that's what started me on this bloggy road in the first place. A passion to write and share and tell stories. They know what passion means; we've emphasized that word time and again with them. Be passionate about what you do ...

"Because I'm passionate about telling my story ... and your stories as well."

"Why do you want to tell our stories, Momma?" If only they knew how brilliant they are. If only they know how smart and beautiful they are. If only they knew how creative and thoughtful and thought-provoking they are. But right now, they don't know. Eventually they'll get it, but not now.

" I want to tell your stories so that when you are older, you'll have your life written down ... by me. It's a gift to you. My blog is my love letter to you ... "

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"That and y'all do some really funny stuff."