Twitter Weekly Updates for 2012-03-11
- The only cowboys I've seen since moving to cowboy country are the ones on Sweet Home Alabama. http://t.co/GJrm5sNx #
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Starting over in Cowboy Country
Being a widow in a new place has had its shares of ups and downs. I thought I was a pretty independent sort, even when married, and moving had never gotten me down. I’ve started in a new city which really seems like a town, its so small, a new office group of staff, employees, supervisors, managers, new job, responsibilities, some familiar, some not. I’ve had to accustom myself to cowboy country, as they call it, though I’ve yet to see one except on tv, anal – did I say anal? I meant assinine admin staff to deal with, and feeling like a fish out of water. I have a lake outside my window, one of the perks, but the trees are gone in this terrain, and no plan in sight for developers to get some. The vegetation is light golden straw colored fields instead of green, as if drought had hit for decades before. I’m told this is just the color. »» Starting over in Cowboy Country
Moving After Widowhood
I finally understand why people say moving is on the top ten list of stressful events. I’ve moved a few times before and couldn’t see how that could be true. This time, I see it crystal clear. »» Moving After Widowhood
My Lovely Valentino
I felt like crying tonight. Not a dreadful torrent of tears but more like a wail along with a few tears to accompany the drama. It’s not because I’m a widow and its not because the snow is 17 inches on our roof. Its because I lost out on a beautiful vintage long draping exquisite black Valentino skirt this evening, at a fraction of the price of what I would pay if I ever had the funds to go haute couture. »» My Lovely Valentino
The War Between The States
The South tends to start winning when my children are showing signs of ravage. My thoughts tend to go downward, mood descends and my hopes start sinking. The vessel called family starts taking on water and it seems only a matter of time before we will be abolished. We are slaves all over again to loss and grief. Our family sustained heavy casualties. »» The War Between The States
When the Music Dies
If music is the universal language of mankind, as someone once wrote, I became mute. I couldn’t play a song on the piano to save my life for at least two years after becoming a widow, or at least it felt that way. There was no heart, no desire to play. Losing this, I lost what used to be my oasis in the storm. »» When the Music Dies
Good Grief Charlie Brown!
So I was sitting in a meeting this morning, and I don’t know what it is about our meetings this autumn, but the management has really emphasized getting to know each other’s strengths. Short of having DNA testing on hair strands, we’ve gone through the back door of convention, using a color questionnaire – what’s your color? I’m a green with less blue. Cheers. Today we had a staff go through our value system during the meeting, to practice her new life coach certificate she just acquired. Before I knew it, tears were welling up as we had to sit and reflect on our values that were most prominent in one of the better moments of our life. One of those better moments was floating in the Dead Sea at Ein Fashka. »» Good Grief Charlie Brown!
Monday Monday
Time for work. Washed, dressed, glanced discreetly at the two teens who expect the world from me and just don’t know it. Decided to wear red nail polish for the first time in four years. Looks like blood. Should it? »» Monday Monday
A Chance Encounter With An Italian Icon
Taking a chance on your heart, your life, your future, your next moment can be daunting after having faced a devastating death. You may not feel you have the strength to try new things, new places, new friendships, or you may feel there is nothing left to give. We all take chances, some not as dramatic as others, but walking across a street in New York is taking a chance. Getting pregnant, married or making bread for the first time is taking a chance. »» A Chance Encounter With An Italian Icon
Being Embraced by Your Spouse’s Family
I had to attend a funeral of one of my many sister-in-laws last week. It was a grueling week because she was the second sibling to die out of 13. My youngest child refused to attend, stating she hates funerals now, though she did attend the wake to see her cousin. My oldest son stayed in college and my middle son was a cross bearer. Fortunately as I walked into that hall where people were gathered, all of my husband’s brothers were lined up close to the door, and one of their wives took hold of my shoulder and told me to walk with them. That basically was a gesture, a good indication that I was to be included as part of their family still. We all sat up front together, and walked together to the cemetery following the hearse. Two of the brothers put their arm around me as we walked, with a sensitivity rarely shown. It was conjuring up memories for them also of burying their brother. »» Being Embraced by Your Spouse’s Family
