happily ever after.

I have been busy working on a Memory Book for an 85th birthday. The recipient, Hulda, is sweet and dear, and I love her to pieces. Having mentioned that she is turning 85, I should also mention that she lives in southern Florida, drives herself everywhere, and refuses to wear a hearing aid.... Why bother with that when you can have the television so loud even I can hear it here in Atlanta? QVC is her favorite channel (where all your Hanukkah gifts come from) and she has more clothes and handbags than you can shake a stick at; all purchased with a coupon.

Hulda is one of my favorite people on Planet Earth. Landon was recently blessed enough to settle in her arms here at work. I think the boy can sniff a Grandma out in a crowd.

So her sweet daughter in law (my boss) is sending her a little gift for her birthday... having sorted through hundreds of pictures to find only a handful to sum up Hil's (as we call her) life in pictures...



I hope I am blessed enough, at 85, to know the things Hil has known... to have held the grandbabies she has held, and to have been loved as much as she was. I hope my children grow up to think of me as wonderfully as her children think of her - and that they too love me enough to let me go without a hearing aid, just because I don't like the way they make my hair look. Seriously. Who cares if I accidentally think my son-in-law just died of a heart attack because I wasn't wearing them? Jesus. That sentence doesn't even do that whole story justice.



One day, when I am 85, I want to be cruising around the Mexican Riviera with my grown children... having asked them because they are the people I most want to spend every second with. I hope to be able to call my grandson and tell him I'm sending him the certificates I have for some kind of stock something or other with some company called AT&T. I hope to be wearing fabulous clothes and sunning myself on my patio.

Her pictures have taught me much about my life this week... where I am going, where I hope to end up, and how I want to live everyday for the rest of my eighty five years. Without worry and without regret. With the person who loved me the most beside me, and my children holding my hands the entire way. With a family.
Because, despite the heartache, the tragedies, and the mistakes, Hil has lived a life full of one thing for certain... love. I gotta find the same thing. No more wasting time. And I am certain that Hil would tell me, if I called her today, expressing my woes, to get my sweet ass in gear.... that is of course, if she could hear me over the television.

sense of purpose.

"To change a habit, the motivation has to begin with a deep and abiding sense of purpose, and your goal must fit into that big picture. So. Start by asking youself, when all is said and done, what do I feel must have happened for me to have lived a life of significance? Once you get that connection to your ultimate mission, you have the Holy Grail of change."

By Jim Loehr, author of The Power of Story:Rewrite Your Destiny in Business and Life.

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Family Guy Wisdom.

My favorite quote from The Family Guy tonight?

"You can't spell OVERREACT without OVARY. You're a girl."

Hmmm. This might explain a lot.

Of course, then there is ... "This could be more trouble than a moose on the interstate."

Which doesn't explain much, but it's funny. Right?

on being a collector

i read something interesting on another blog this morning, while sipping my coffee in the dark farmhouse... (yes, i finally learned to make coffee at home - so THERE starbucks)

"The problem is that my collection rate is greater than my archive rate."

now, mind you, the sweet lady who wrote this was probably talking about her crafting projects.

however, i find that this quote directly applies to my ... life. and my sock basket.

(do you have a sock basket in your laundry room? are we normal?)

last night a friend said to me... " i was telling you this all along... and then when it finally became YOUR idea (*um, three years later, I should mention) then you realized i was right." he was right. it took me three long years to cross something i had "collected" off my list of collections. all because i had to do it in my own time. which is never a good thing. just take a look at our sock basket.

so. herein lies the problem. well. not really a problem. more like a solution. a means to an end.

i collect.

grief.
heartache.
situations.
dust.
trouble.
bills.
dreams.
drama.
(and oh yes, socks)

i take that list of bs (and my basket of socks) and never take enough time to cross anything off. i guess it's easier to continue making the list than it is to attain any of the goals or accomplish anything related to the items on it.

right?

so. i am a collector. socks and otherwise. i think i am ready to stop my collecting.

now, i would like to find a nice way to showcase my collectibles under nice glass boxes with proper lighting (we'll call it the rachael gallery) and lock the door and move on.

all my collected items will be somewhere pretty, and i can move on the achieve section of my above quote. we can open this fine gallery of collectibles from life from time to time for others to view and learn from and ill even come back and be the head docent and say important things like, i told you so and you should listen more often than you speak.

sound good? hope so. because my coffee is gone, i neeeed a shower, and my son will soon be stirring.

have a good day. with less collecting. more achieving.

Pause.

You'll just have to find a way to endure this torture while I figure out something to write about...

in case you might be wondering.

This weekend I plan to

a. stay in my pajamas.
b. vaccum everything.
c. seriously take the rest of the christmas stuff to storage. seriously. i swear.
d. make minestrone soup (reference #1).
e. read my new books.
f. give my dog a bath (um. yes. really i will.)

g. do all of the above.

Of course, because the temperature is a balmy 11 degrees here, I have already rushed out with the rest of Georgia to buy up a year's supply of loaf bread and milk. Just in case we need to survive on milk sandwiches alone.

In other news, my brain is so fried that yesterday I had to ask my former spouse to make a decision for the girls because, HELLO, I can't think about anything else. My brain is currently on overload. This weekend, however, it plans to be on vacation.

In the meantime, please enjoy this picture of Landon, who turns three months old tomorrow.



Please. Resist. The. Urge. Calm those ovaries down.

two. roads.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Two roads. Diverged. I stood there, holding my little son, and stared. For a long time. Long. At first, I could only see one road... albeit rocky and full of potholes. There were caution lights flashing all around it. STOP. WAIT. DO NOT ENTER. Despite it's ominous appearance... something about this road was... familiar to me. I looked down and Landon. He batted his eyes and told me he trusted me. I don't know where this road will take me. Could be good, could be bad.

Then, I looked around, and noticed the Other Road. Grassy. Green. Warm. Comforting. Full of all the things a journey should hold. I guess I knew it was there all along - maybe I just didn't notice it as much before. Maybe I thought that road - the one that looks traveled and peaceful - maybe I thought things like that weren't meant for me. I looked down at Landon again. Sleeping. Trusting me to decide for him.

I tried my cell phone. Call a friend. They will know which path takes me where I want to go. Friends always have good directions. No service way out here, God said. Decide this one for youself.

I looked behind me. The road was rocky. Treacherous. But. It got me here. With Landon. Somehow, I know I'm his keeper. The one who delivered him here to change peoples lives. He's doing it already. I saw the moutains we climbed. The bridges we burned. The road in complete disrepair.

So. Here I am. The path behind me... the paths in front of me.

I stuck a foot onto the grassy, green path... the one that looked peaceful and calm. The one that has a definite, solid outcome. The sunshine felt good on my face. I have never tried this path... the normal, well-worn, everyday path... not once. A little... much.

I turned around and went back to the crossroads. Can't make this decision quickly, despite how easy the choice might seem.

Road Sign appears. A road sign I trust. More than anything.

REMEMBER GOD GAVE US HE KNOWLEDGE OF RIGHT AND WRONG, GOOD AND BAD , AND THAT GUT FEELING USUALLY IS RIGHT. AND SOMETIMES DOING THE RIGHT THING IS THE HARDEST TO DO.

What is the right thing? Isn't there a map around here somewhere? I know where I want to be... where I hope to end up.

But I am not sure which way takes me there.