Dulcet Dragonfly

Another Monday

There is something sweet about slipping back into a familiar routine and so Monday morning arrives and I great it with an open heart.  My exercise update.  I have now worked out every day for 60 some days in a row.  Granted on the days I'm feeling really tired I just walk, but for the most part, at least five days a week, I really push my workout and am experiencing a constant state of slight soreness in my body.  I have lost 13 lbs and hope to lose another 15 lbs this year.  I have reached the point where I look forward to my workout, hate skipping it, and feel better after working out.  I really hope that I have managed to change my life in this way and break out of my old habits. 

Chrissy, my oldest and dearest friend, is flying out to visit in six days.  I will count every single day until then and hope that the week speeds by.  We only get two days together, but I cherish any time we have.  I feel an undercurrent of joy knowing that she will be here soon.  After she's been here I always catch myself dreaming that perhaps she and her husband will move here.  I know it's an unrealistic dream, but it's a fun one. 

Grief.  I am still grieving, perhaps this is normal, I don't know.  Not everything is tinged with grief anymore, but it is still present.  I don't think I grieved much the first year at all.  An interesting sense of numbness spread through me.  I think I was in shock for most of the first year.  I had moments of grief and loss so large I couldn't breathe or function, but then I would allow the numbness to flood me again and I would gasp for breath and continue to survive.  Then the numbness wore off and grief was in everything I touched and did.  I couldn't stop his name from coming to my lips over and over again as if speaking them out loud, whispering them into the wind would summon him back to me, or ease my pain.  Now it is more of a longing that fills the quiet moments.  A quiet sorrow that creeps up on me when his memory graces my presence.  I am no longer just surviving, I am thriving again, but the grief may be something that never entirely leaves me. 

I have started packing up the house again.  I packed up our entire house in December, but then the move fell through and I unpacked most everything again.  Now we are moving to a house in the beginning of June and I have never been more excited to move!  We will have a fenced yard for the boys to play in!  We will have a two car garage, two living rooms, a garden, a big willow tree with a tire swing!  I can't wait!  And so I am packing a few boxes a day, and doing it with a glad heart.     

Monday's guilty secrets....(I like Mondays)

I'm just going to pretend that years haven't gone by without me posting here and I'm gonna post.  :) 

Today I worked out for the third day in a row.  I am convinced that I lasted a little longer.  I am hoping that in thirty days my stomach will be flat.  I know it's an ambitious goal after giving birth to three boys, but I am determined to achieve that goal.  It's funny it took a competition with 20 other women to get me really motivated, but now I'm on fire.  We have a group of women who are all competing.  The competition lasts 3 months.  We weigh ourselves at the beginning and at the end.  The woman who has lost the most weight percentage wise wins $200, which we have all contributed by paying to join the competition.  The money would be fun, but the true reward for me will be my new body.  We have just come to the end of the first week, and I am proud to say that I have done well.  I couldn't work out in the beginning as I was dizzy from the sugar detox I was doing, but now I'm working out every day for 20 minutes and I would love to report that I'm feeling great, but what I'm feeling is terribly sore!  To some extent I am enjoying the soreness as I know it's my muscles working hard and getting stronger.  Go me! 

Exercise is not really in my nature.  My nature desires a book and a quiet pool of sunshine to read in.  Preferably with a cat snuggled up in my lap.  On the other hand my nature also desires to look fabulous and feel healthy!  I figure the more energy I have the more I can keep up with my boys.  I don't want them to reach adulthood and say that I never played with them. 

I am feeling really good today.  I am not sure why, but I catch myself smiling and humming and I love feeling like this.  The world outside looks like a snow globe that was just shaken, and since I am cozy and warm in the house I love it.  I opted to keep Rayn home from school and enjoy his presence rather than drag him out into the cold to take him to school.  He has worked out with me, played a little leapster, and we have written two stories together, I think next we will read some stories and then perhaps make play dough together if we can get it in before Tobin wakes up. 

Off to play.....   

Yours

My heart is filled with a blazing passion an eternal wildfire burning so hot and brightly that everything falls to ash in the face of its intensity.  Everything but you, my Treasure.  You tend to the blaze unharmed.  The flames dance in your cool eyes of steel.  You are the only one who has penetrated into the inner sanctum to meet the Goddess within.  You have consumed me, my Lord, my every heartbeat calls out to you.  You are the one for whom I kneel.  A Goddess exposed to you, her Lord and Master, vulnerable only to you.  I am ensorcelled body and soul.  My longing for you has become my constant companion and without it I am no longer myself.  In these rare moments of stillness you flood me.  When I am near you I experience nothing but the rush of your powerful presence.   Your gaze upon me scores my flesh and for days my skin carries the memory of your caressing glance.  For you this Goddess and dark Queen becomes slave.  

QotD: Via Snail Mail

When did you last write/receive a handwritten, snail-mail letter? Who was it to/from? 
Submitted by Places Unknown.

My oldest friend Chrissy and I still send each other snail mail from time to time she lives across the ocean a world away from me in Germany.  Snail mail is so much more like a piece of the person has arrived in the mail.  I savor and treasure the letter still in its sealed envelope, taking it reverently from the mail box, my eyes caressing my name written in warm and familiar handwriting.  Even just seeing my name written in the hand of someone who loves me dearly is comfort and joy.  I let the anticipation build as I walk down the hall to the apartment I share with my family.  And then before I open the letter I have to create the perfect space within which to read it.  I brew my coffee, every drip of coffee into the pot another ripple of anticipation, my heart already so full of joy that I want to bathe in this feeling of closeness.  Then, cradling the warm cup of coffee in my eager hands, the letter tucked safely in my pocket I wander outside to the embrace of our hanging chair and curl up in the shade of the whispering tree above me.  I inhale deeply, gaze around me with the wonder and awe of a child, take a sip of my coffee and sigh deeply my fingers gingerly pulling my treasure from my pocket.  Deftly I slip my finger into the fold of the envelope and open my letter letting the scents from an ocean away slip out into the morning air.  Now the waiting is unbearable, it is suddenly too much so in a rush I pull the pages from the envelope and dive into her world, her mind, and surround myself with my friend.  The reading is over way too fast and now I can read it again, taking the time to taste her every word, discover the feelings underneath the words, and live her life for a few minutes.  Then ever so gently I fold the letter back up and slip it into its envelope knowing that I will read it again and again until the pages are weary of my touch. 

  

Malene

P5240028

Father

Thoughts on my Father: As a little girl he was my hero.  He played with me, fought the monsters under my bed, listened to me and adored me.  Sadly as I grew into a strong and independent woman he turned his back on me.  He raised me to be who I am and yet he cannot handle the woman I have grown into.  Women, in his world should be meek, sweet, weak, dependent, helpless.  I find the dichotomy of what he raised me to be, and what he still wants me to be so fascinating.  He wants me to succeed, but not for my own sake, but because it reflects on him.  I am tired of defending him to my friends, I am tired of pretending we have a wonderful relationship and yet I cannot break the ties I have to him.  I can't seem to let go.  I am tired of him.

ex

It's so very interesting to me how it still makes me feel when my ex-boyfriend gives me a compliment.  I am a woman long married and deeply in love and yet when this man from my past compliments me it still makes my heart skip a little.  Somehow his opinion must still hold some weight with me.  I do respect him, and even like him again, although there was a time when I hated him, I even catch glimpses of why I fell in love with him in the first place and then quickly on its heels I see clearly why we didn't make it.  It feels sweet to be able to be friends with him.

Preschool

My little boy has started preschool, it is amazing how time flies.  He was born what seems like just a few days ago, and now he is already in preschool.  Rayn has settled into preschool well and is really happy there.  He's only had one altercation with another little boy so far although I think the two of them are now fast friends.  Rayn was being a dinosaur or dragon, not exactly sure which and roared at this little boy so loudly that the boy got scared and threw a car at him which hit his forehead and left a little bloody scratch.  Rayn loves telling the story about how Alta (other boys name) threw a car at him and then said it was a mistake.  Last week the kids picked peaches off of the schools peach tree, and this Tuesday they baked peach pies so we have a tiny little peach pie that Rayn baked at school and although the crust is a little chewy it is otherwise quite delicious.  We don't allow Rayn to take his pacifier to school and yet they have a nap time.  I discovered Rayn sucking his thumb for the first time this Monday when he was really upset and I think he taught himself to do that at school when he was without his pacifier.  I have two more Rayn stories to tell before I let you go.  I took Rayn to the pet store with me to get food for Jessi, he was busily petting all the dogs in the store when I stopped him and told him he needs to ask before he pets strange dogs since he doesn't know if they are aggressive or not.  He knelt down to eye level and sweetly asked the dog "may I pet you" to which the dog happily wagged his tail.  I guess it pays to be a little more specific with your three year old.  Last story for this post: Rayn was going to spend the night with his Grandma and Grandpa we were packing his bag and getting him ready when Rayn said: "Mama, I don't want to go to their house.  I don't like to hear them breathing!" 

Getting Tattoed

My tattoo is beautiful. It still stings and is swollen today, but it is a gorgeous delicate dragonfly in henna brown surrounded by cherry blossoms. The process was very interesting. I walked into the shop feeling a little nervous and then had some moments of modest shyness when the artist asked me to pull my pants down just a little bit further. Knowing that the top of my butt crack was neatly displayed made me blush a little, but I soon got used to it. He had me sit sideways on a chair and then lean way over, so I ended up folding my arms in my lap and resting my head on my arms......for three hours. I have a fairly high pain threshold and thought I was doing fine until my body started tingling and the world started fading about five minutes into the tattoo. I told Kris I was pretty sure I was about to faint, and then I informed him that I have epilepsy and that instead of fainting I would have a seizure. He stayed in the room for me and sent another artist to get me a soda. He asked me if I had anything to eat that day. I told him that I had snacked but not really eaten a full meal. He informed me at that point that I was crashing not because of the pain but because all of the sugar in my body had just been used up to create endorphins since my body thought I was injured. I really freaked out when my hands became cramped up claws that I couldn't move anymore. That was the point at which Kris said "you're scaring me, girl". I asked him to help me off the chair so that I could lie down. Sweat was pouring off of my body and I could barely shuffle to the massage table to lie down. After a few minutes of resting my hands stopped tingling, I regained use of them, and my head cleared up. I drank an entire soda and we went back to work. I was fine for the rest of the tattoo. There was some mild pain, and then in the last hour of the tattoo it turned into excruciating pain. I was tired and could no longer deal with the pain as well. Plus he was going back over areas that were already tattooed. I can't begin to relate how relieved I was when the entire process was done. I am very pleased with the outcome. It is beautiful, delicate, and feminine, and so very much me. I can't wait to see it once the swelling has gone down.

Just got off of the phone with my Mom who informed me that my hands cramping up like they did means that I didn't just have an aura for a seizure, but that I had a petite mal (now known as absence seizures) seizure. This is very discouraging news indeed and means that I still will have seizures when other people would normally just faint. I had a suspicion that I had actually had a seizure, thus the call to my Mom. I am so very discouraged about this.  It's not like I believed that I no longer had epilepsy, I guess I just get discouraged every time I have a seizure.  I am still one of the lucky ones.  My seizures are few and far between.  

Tattoo

Today I go to get my first tattoo.  I am a bit nervous, but I have thought long and hard about it for many years.  I have pondered over many different designs and this one is beautiful, whimsical, delicate and feminine.  It is a piece of art and I love it.  I'm having it done in henna brown instead of black.  I trust the artist completely.  He did my husbands tattoo which turned out amazingly.  I am nervous for a multitude of reasons: what if this beautiful image does not translate well to my skin and I end up regretting it?  I don't even believe in regret, and yet I'm worried about it.  The second is that I am a little enamored with the artist and that makes me more nervous to be so vulnerable to him.  I leave here in an hour and twenty minutes.  When the tattoo is done I will let you know how it went.