Kindness

A girl I went to high school with is a FaceBook "friend" of mine. She was the organizer of my 20th class reunion and that is when the FB "friend" invite and acceptance occurred. Post reunion she has some personal difficulties, ones that I could relate with. We remained "friends" as I followed her trials and tribulations. At one point I even sent her a private message of encouragement and understanding.

As the years when on, I decided I didn't like her very much. She is not someone I would have enjoyed having a cup of coffee with. As a matter do fact, I often found her rude and unkind. I could have "defriended" her, but I felt I was learning lessons when her posts impacted me. My reactions to her words taught me a lot about me and my journey.

This week, while she was out running errands she snapped a photo of a woman without her knowledge or permission. She posted this picture on her Facebook page for the sole intent and purpose of making fun of this woman. I had one of the strongest emotionally negative reactions I have had in years!

Please allow me to describe the photo. It was a rear shot of a middle aged or older female shopping at a community pharmacy. She was wearing yellow shorts and her underwear band was showing and the material of the shorts was wedged in her butt crack. She was wearing a tank top that was most likely too small, she had a knee brace on her left knee and was wearing black socks and black sandles. Some compared this photo to "The People of Walmart" photos that make the rounds (and for the record, I rarely find them humorous either). But this woman was not wearing a tutu and cowboy boots, or a super hero costume with a ball cap. She was wearing "normal" clothing that may have not been the right size, but appeared clean and appropriate for the setting. Sure, society says wearing socks and sandles is a no-no. Most people I know would not go out in a top that was too small and I know personally I would have picked a wedge before allowing my shorts to get firmly ensconced in my generous crevice. My issue is that this woman, going about her day, became an unwitting participant in a yuck fest about how one woman thought others should look in public.

The knee brace leads me to believe that she may have some pain issues. Maybe she was there to pick up pain medications. Maybe those yellow shorts were the only pants she could get over the brace. Maybe the socks and sandles were the only footwear she could manage with her knee injury. Heck, maybe she didn't see anything wrong with what she was wearing (honestly, I wouldn't have looked twice). But Miss FB "friend" and her posse of like minded, unkind individuals chose to make fun of her, and then me when I timidly voiced my outrage.

I was told to lighten up. I was teased and ridiculed for not being cool enough to get the joke. I was told Miss FB "friend" was hysterically funny and anything she found funny WAS funny. I did not counter respond as I knew that the response from Miss FB "friend"'s followers would be more ridicule about how uncool I was for not getting the joke.

I felt like the 12 year old girl that was being bullied by her peers again. The pain of those memories hit me to the core. Miss FB "friend" was a bully in high school, and it appears that has not changed. I guess I thought as we grew up we gave up those roles. I was wrong. And when her mom chimed in and told me I needed to lighten up, I got it. She knows no different. Her mom feels it is ok to make fun of people and that if you do not fit into her picture of societal norm, you need to change or be laughed at.

The people on that post have never stopped to walk a mile in the shoes of the people they taunt. In discussing this episode with my best friend, she recalled an event when she was homeless and scraping by when her clothing wasn't "socially appropriate". Someone at least had the balls to tell her in a kind way and help her remedy the situation, not take her picture behind her back and make fun of her.

My strong emotional reaction was related to the painful memories of people making fun of me; bullying me. It was also because I was so paralyzed with fear of that happening again that I couldn't continue to defend this nameless and yes, faceless woman who was being made fun of for no reason other than these self important bullies thought it was funny. My emotions over ran my heart and spilled out my eyes as I realized that some people don't out grow bullying. As I sit here writing these words, my eyes overflow again.

I feel love for the little girl in me, feeling these feelings 30 years later. I feel love for this nameless woman who is the source of glee for these people who refuse to take a minute to walk in her shoes. I feel love for the unkind people who attacked this woman and myself because they do not understand, and I sadly believe may never understand. 

I consciously extend kindness to myself - I allow myself to feel this pain, to acknowledge that I am a better person for the painful experiences I have endured, and am allowing myself time to reflect and attempt to understand my reactions.

I consciously extend kindness to my fellow (wo)man - I will attempt to be more conscious in my judgemental thoughts. While this episode leads me to believe I tend to be less judgemental than others,  I am far from perfect and I will attempt to improve in this area.

I consciously extend kindness to these FB "friends" - I will also try to walk a mile in their shoes and acknowledge that I have not lived their path. The fact that they felt this behavior was acceptable may be handed down from their parent, or may be a product of their environment and past experiences. They need compassion too. 

I will attempt to speak up with a braver voice. I will attempt to overcome my fears and do what is "right" in my world. I will hopefully open a few eyes to the act of kindness and compassion, but those lessons need to start with me. 

Observations

Walking thru New Orleans on a crisp November morning I take a moment to look around me. Allow me to share some observations...

It's 60 degrees and everyone is bundled up like they are preparing for the next snowpocalypse. I'm in shirt sleeves and feeling the briskness of the morning, and perhaps could have used a long sleeve t-shirt because of the breeze but it's a beautiful morning and my walk is keeping me warm. Despite the "cold" the locals are friendly and still take a moment to say good morning. Yes, as I walk down the street, perfect strangers take a moment out of their day to say hello and share a smile. How do I know they are locals? They are heading to work with tools in hand, be it a hammer or wrench or a guitar case or an uncased 'bone. They are standing outside Verdi Marte waiting on a ride clutching a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette. Do I look like a local? I am not wearing thousands of dollars of camera gear or the ubiquitous Cafe du Monde shopping bag, nor am I wearing beads in November. Perhaps.

As I head downriver, out of the Quarter into the Foburg Marigny, I note that the sidewalks, made of brick, are lopsided and uneven. I have to dodge the large trash cans that dot the street, but marvel over how clean everything is. Who 'dat signs and Christmas lights compete for attention with still blooming flowers and the remarkable bright colors of the shotgun houses that face the street. I refuse to compare the neighborhood to what I would see back home; New Orleans is a land all to itself and without compare. To do so would be an insult.

Breakfast at The Ruby Slipper in the Marigny was a delight. Not just the food (which was above reproach) but also the atmosphere and the attentive staff. The building had been a bank, and the folks at The Ruby Slipper have done it up right.  It is a large, high ceiling open area with table place at a respectable distance from each other. The iron bank vault bars are is still intact in one corner and make a small dining area as well. The windows, which must be a story up, are covered with billowy sheer curtains that allow beautiful natural light but protect from the glare. Definitely a place I could see "working from home" at.

After my morning repass I wander further thru the Marigny. Frenchman Street is a flury of activity at night, but early on a week day morning all is quiet and serene. Locals still say hi as I wander pass. I peek in the windows of d.b.a. and Three Muses and The Maison to see who is playing this week. Kermit Ruffin and his BBQ Swingers are playing in Friday. Put THAT on the schedule!

Frenchman Street spits me back into the Quarter by the Old US Mint which then gently guides me to the French Market. The flea market vendors are just setting up for the day and I walk past beads and masks and sunglasses and t-shirts. The voices are of friends greeting each other good morning in languages I do not understand. Strange smells come from the food containers they are eating from and I wish I could just stop and sample a bite. The food portion of the Market is also just coming awake and I know in just a few hours will be buzzing with tourists looking for a place to wander and locals looking to buy something for tonight's dinner. 

As I leave the French Market, I see the soap suds in the streets and smell the uncharacteristically clean smell of the Quarter. Yes, it can smell quite rank around here, but in the morning, it smells like Tide and sunshine. Cafe du Monde calls my name. Three beignets, a 6oz cup of cafe au lait and a 4oz glass of water are a tradition to my visits. This trip a sparrow came and joined me at my table, getting his sugar buzz on by snatching up errant bits of powdered sugar. He doesn't stay long, but he made me smile none the less. There is a trumpet player behind me impressing the tourists with his long sustained notes. He is always here and I wonder how that works. With literally thousands of street musicians in this fair city, do they bid on the prime spots? Is it an agreement with the business owner? First come, first served? A respect issue with the seasoned performers? Maybe one day I will ask. 

All of these observations in a matter of 2 hours. New Orleans gives me time to be, to observe, and to enjoy the mundane. 

To see beauty...

...one must also see the filth. New Orleans is a beautiful town filled with amazingly warm and welcoming people, beautiful architecture, food beyond compare and the music, oh the music! It is beauty to the ears. To see the beauty, there must be something to compare it to.

This morning, as I wandered the quarter looking for a cup of coffee and a pastry I marveled at the brilliant blue sky, the sounds of the mule drawn carriages and the gentle breeze that greeted me at every intersection. As I approached the corner of Royal and Ursulines I saw a man sleeping on a doorstep. Sleeping was not the proper descriptive. He was passed out on his side, lying in his own vomit. He was moving - I felt no need to intervene.

This city is one that thrives on over indulgences. They drink with gusto, play music with every inch of their soul and consume more butter in a week than some will in a lifetime. This is a town where people work to live - and live they do! A twitter friend of mine is a recent transplant to this fine city. He embraces this city, all of its culture and the lifestyle of "let the good times roll". I have seen him tweet that his life expectancy may be less here, but his living will be great.

I spent the past year pining for this city. I dreamed of moving here, trying as hard as I could to make it so. It is still something I would love to do, but I am not sure it would be wise. I too would embrace this city, it's people, it's culture to the fullest. I would roll in it, soak it up, envelope myself with its loving kindness and excessiveness. A delightful yet frightening prospect.

At this moment I sit in a cafe window, drinking a cafe Au lait, watching the quarter come to life. Another patron stated he called 911 for the vomit encrusted human doorstep and I have yet to hear lights and sirens.

A man just walked up with his dog, attached the leash to a newspaper box so he could come inside and get his morning repass. I love that people take their dogs with them everywhere in the quarter. Many places will allow the dog inside. Most have a bowl of water or a bowl of dog treats available for the 4 legged travelers of the quarter. Most people clean up after their pets, but some do not. Wandering the quarter and dodging doggie bombs is one of the downsides. But again, to see the beauty there must be something to compare it to. The dog owner, an elderly gentleman, just fetched his canine friend and I note that this dog is as old as his owner... They walk by the window I sit in and I swear, both of them smiled.

Read the news and you will understand the crime. There are many black on black shootings, petty thefts perpetrated on tourists (my iPhone always stays tucked away while walking the streets) and the other crime you will find in any major city. The black in black crime is the most startling - young black men shooting other young black men. And then, the flip side, young black men with instruments organizing, encouraging one another, and playing their hearts out on instruments that are dinged and no longer shiny but that make the most delightful noises in their skilled hands. How can this same demographic be killing one another when they can create such a magical sound?

The Pollyanna in me sees the beauty of this city. It is what I choose to embrace, yet I am not blind to the sadness, the depravity, the filth. When I leave the quarter on Tuesday and return to my quiet life of Detroit suburbia, I will remember the mule hoof beats, the brass band on the corner of Frenchman and Chartres, the sunny skies and the friendly people. My mumma dear always called me her lemonade girl and I shall continue on that path.

Is this really real?

Have you ever had an experience so amazing you think back on it and wonder if it really happened?
Have you ever met someone and it felt so amazingly right that you were afraid to blink because it might all disappear into a puff of smoke?
Have you ever wished upon a star and then your wish came true and you wondered how magical that star really was? Or was it a premonition? Or did the divine really listen to prayers?
I am on the cusp of a huge change in my life. Some things have left my life, others have entered. Some will stay, and I am sure that some will go.
I am happy - I am hopeful
I am refusing to let fear of the unknown and uncertainties in myself over take this joy. They still exist, but they are not being granted power.
It takes something major for me to commit it to my blog... This could be major.
I don't blog often because I know others read it. This blog was conceived as a brain dump; it has become a window to my soul. I don't blog often because the curtains are drawn on that window. I can see such beauty in the possible future I have opened myself up to that I want to immortalized this moment, this feeling, in my blog. I want to put this out there for the world to read. Hell, I may need to be physically restrained from yelling it from the roof tops.
I'm just a girl at times. Right now the little girl that lives in my heart is singing with joy that she asked for him and he may have listened.

Christmas Blessings

How fortunate am I to be alive on this day. Sauntering through the French Quarter after an amazing meal with even more amazing people, I started to cry. Now, I am not a weepy person as a rule, but tonight, in this very spot, my heart is filled with so much love that it leaked out my eyes.

James is an "Accidental Cajun" who I had the good fortune if stumbling across on Twitter. I've followed him for a few months and we would occasionally toss a tweet back and forth. When I arrived in New Orleans in Friday he met me at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop for a drink. We talked about everything and nothing - passing the time and enjoying a brew. He was kind and gracious enough to invite me for dinner on Christmas Day. So blessed!

Jack is another twitter contact. We are both visiting the Crescent City from places afar - he is here from West Virginia. His love of this city and its music may just outreach my own and that's saying a lot. With a few foiled plans we finally met up at Pirate Alley Cafe and put away several adult beverages and talked the better part of 4 hours away. Having adequately assaulted our livers, we ambled into the beautiful St Louis Cathedral to sing a few carols; exiting promptly when the topic turned to "modesty". Neither of us are practicing any organized faith and I figured we were hedging out bets staying as long as we did. The cathedral intact - our heathenism did not crumble the walls.

Jack and I headed to one of my favorite streets on the planet - Frenchman Street. We spent some time at The Spotted Cat Music Club tapping our toes and drinking a bit more. Jack's traveling companion, David, a former student and incredibly charming young man (ugh - I'm getting old) joined us and after a few more sets at The Spotted Cat we went to check out Mimi's in the Marigny.

I will pause here for a moment to tell you how much I would delight in this being my every day life. I have never been in a city, with perhaps the exception of Toronto, where I have ever felt so alive and completely myself. Living in Michigan, I always feel like I have to live up to someone else's expectation of who I am and how I should act. I am very quiet, introverted, and do what is expected of me in Michigan. I have spoken to more people here in New Orleans in the last 5 days than I have in Michigan this entire year. I chatted up a couple from Wisconsin. We talked about suicide in the military. I talked (somewhat) to a group of five 30 something's from Brazil. We danced and drank and they kissed me as they left. I talked with "Irish" at the bar and the adorably counter guy at The Clover Grill. Countless people said "Merry Christmas" to me and I took up the torch and started saying it first. I would never remove that protective bubble that I live in at home. I would never have sat just people watching if I were in Michigan. I would be home watching an infinite supply of Law and Order reruns or curled up on the couch with a blanket, a book, and a fur kid or two.

This may be a huge part of me wanting to move to New Orleans. I love the ability to not be lonely and still be alone. I have gone from one relationship to another in my life and now that I am intentionally taking a break from that I find that my isolation is even greater. Time to take the lessons of New Orleans home with me.

Back to my trip - Mimi's was more music and more booze. It was Christmas Eve so the crowd was tame but I imagine it being a great space to hear music. I will be back. Jack friended the Accidental Cajun and was also invited for Christmas Dinner. Tonight was that dinner. James and his delightful wife, Rylene, we very loving hosts. James said dinner would be at 3pm - being the prompt northerners, we showed up at 3:05pm. Good natured ribbing ensued because we were early having not learned New Orleans time.

The food was indescribably delicious! Boudin stuffed turkey, ham, lasagna, Brussel sprouts, greens, Au gratin potatoes, and a jambalaya that will live forever as one of my favorite dishes of all time! The food was awesome, but the love and acceptance of these "Misfit Toys" by James and Rylene and all their friends was what made my heart swell.

I'm back in my condo (Pam's condo - but she makes a point if telling me its my place too) listening to the rain storm outside, trying to blog on my iPhone and debating what this evenings events will be. I may just kick back and relax - or I may go search for music on my last night in the city. All I know is this Christmas has blessed me with many things. Beautiful people, unparalleled music, food the likes of which I have never seen before but most importantly a new perspective on me and my interaction with my fellow planet travelers. I declare now, at this moment, to try to feel this blessed every day. I will try to put myself out there a little more, open up and be accepting of greatness.

I love my home for the people I have in my life. Kristina and Joe are my best friends and care for me as family. My son is my world and is my reason for all I do. With these few exceptions, I don't let others in. My Christmas Blessing this year is the realization that I can (and should) let others in. Be it for a 10 minute conversation, and afternoon of drunken debachery or for the breaking of bread. There are others out there and if I open up a bit I may share a minute, hour, day, lifetime of smiles.

My shell has cracked this Christmas Day...

I'm in love with NOLA - and this is why...

A friend asked me what are my "must dos" in New Orleans. I compiled a list and it turned into a novel!  Here is it if anyone else is interested (or for my own reference in the future).

Yo Mama’s Bar – 727 St Peter - Get a burger and a baked potato for around $12.00 – Two people can split this and be full! Sit at the bar, you get better service and can have fun with the snarly, busty waitresses. On St Peter just riverside of Bourbon Street (Drinks are cheaper here than ¼ block away on Bourbon Street)


MRB’s (Stands for Mississippi River Bottom) – 515 St Phillip - This is a DIVE bar. No doubt about that. The fun part about this bar is the dogs that come in. JW is a 3 legged, droopy eyed boxer who lives across the street and spends more time in the bar than on the streets. Not a must do – but JW is good for some puppy scratching.

The French Market Restaurant – 1001 Decatur - Good food. Reasonable prices. If it is nice out, sit on the balcony and look out over Decatur Street with an excellent view of “Joanie on a Pony” (statue of Joan of Arc). I had a great meal here one evening in May and when I came back in July I found out that my waiter and his girlfriend (both who worked there) died from some bad heroin. The bar was doing a second line for them. Sad news but shows the reality of New Orleans and also the family that is built in a city like this.

The Star Steak and Lobster House – 237 Decatur - After hitting it big at Harrah’s one night, a friend and I had lobster for 2 and barbecues shrimp here. The Shrimp was to die for!!! A little fancy but fancy in NOLA is a relative term. At least stop in for some of the barbecued shrimp – and be prepared for messy fingers.

Johnny’s Po-Boys – 511 St Louis - Best roast beef Po-Boy in the city (in my opinion). Not a fancy place and not open late, but a roast beef po-boy and a red pop fit the bill!

Verti Marte – 1201 Royal - It’s a convenience store (and its 1 block from my condo!) They have a huge board of sandwiches and a case of prepared foods. It’s a tiny place and there is no seating, but the food is amazing. My personal suggestion – and “All That Jazz” sandwich. It’s amazing!

Camilla Grill – There is one on the St Charles line - 626 S. Carrollton - and one in the Quarter- 540 Chartres. The food is ok, the wait is long, but the grilled Pecan Pie is OMG supper yummy!

The Clover Grill – 900 Bourbon - Greasy spoon (and I do mean greasy!) but they make a decent burger. The charm of this place is sitting at the counter and watching the overly effeminate gay guys grill a burger under a Cadillac hubcap! Good breakfast spot. Small place – lots of food.

Frenchman Street – You need to wander Frenchman Street. During the day it is quieter and you can go into some of the little cafés. I got the best salad at Café Rose Nicaud – 632 Frenchman Street - but Frenchman Street really comes alive at night! The street is basically music club next to music club. You can hear trad jazz, zydeco, blues, rock, Cajun, funk… just keep walking down the street. There is usually a group of kids with their horns on the street corner playing and folks dancing in the streets. Don’t try to drive down Frenchman in the evening. It’s a mess. Park in the Riverfront lots OR just take the street cars. If you take the Riverside streetcar line to the downriver end you can walk around the US Mint and basically be on Frenchman Street in 2 minutes. If you are only going to go to one club, hit The Spotted Cat. My favorite places in order of favoritenesslyness are…

The Spotted Cat – 623 Frenchman

Apple Barrel – 609 Frenchman

Maison – 508 Frenchman

d.b.a. – 618 Frenchman

Blue Nile – 534 Frenchman

Café DuMonde – 800 Decatur - across from Jackson Square. Gotta do it, at least once. Powdered Sugar everywhere. It’s worth visiting the original - there are several in the city now. While you are there, stroll the Moon Walk (named for the former New Orleans mayor Maurice "Moon" Landrieu) wander into St Louis Cathedral (It’s pretty even for us heathens), or peruse the art hanging on the fence but avoid the mule carriage rides. If you want to do a tour, do the Katrina City Tour (the ticket booth is by the Steam Boat Natchez boarding area). It was a very informative tour and takes you all over the city including the Lower 9th Ward (the worst hit areas from Katrina) and shows not only the blight but the regeneration. They go by the musicians’ community, the green homes that Brad and Angelina are helping with and they even make a stop at one of the Cemeteries.

Meltdown - 508 Dumaine – Has an amazing Salted Carmel popsicle. Local Mom-N-Pop store.

La Divina Gelateria – 621 St Peter – Get the Aztec Gelato – Chocolate, cinnamon and cayenne. Get a small portion. It is rich but so flavorful!

Pat O’Briens – 624 Bourbon - is touristy and expensive but the dueling piano bar is kind of fun. Before you commit to a $14 drink, make sure they are dueling.

The Ruby Slipper – 200 Magazine – Good breakfast – great Mimosas. There is a new location in the Marigny. Haven’t been there yet but may have to go this time.

Mother’s – 401 Poydras – People rave about their breakfasts but there is always a HUGE line, often around the building. The food was good, but in my opinion, there are too many other great places to eat that I don’t want to wait an hour for this.

Central Grocery – 923 Decatur – Home of the original Mufalata – Get ½ (they are huge) a bag of Zapps chips and a Barq’s root beer and either grab a stool (if you are lucky) or take it across the street and sit on the riverfront and enjoy. Worth the wait.

Wander through the French Market – cool food and art vendors. If you continue downriver you will hit the flea market with typical flea market stuff. I bought a cook shoulder bag there. I was in need. It was convenient and cheap.

Streetcars – You can pay $1.25 per ride (exact change please) or you can pay $3.00 for an all day pass (valid until 4am). These passes can be bought on the street car, just tell the driver before you put in your money if you want the all day pass. You can also buy a several day pass but only at specific kiosks. I know there is one at Canal and Bourbon but I usually just get the daily pass if I am going to be traveling out of the Quarter.

I hear the WWII museum – 945 Magazine - is great but I have not been yet. I did go to the Audubon Aquarium - 1 Canal - and was disappointed. I think after someone has visited Shedd Aquarium that nothing except perhaps Monterey Aquarium will compare.

Wanna do something g cheap? Heck, FREE! Take a ride across the Mississippi River on the Algiers Ferry – Free for pedestrians. It is a nice way to see the river and the city from the water. Hitch a ride at the base of Canal Street (right by the aquarium).

If someone tells you they will bet you $5 that they can tell you where you got your shoes, smile, tell them “I got my shoes on my feet” and walk away.

Wander down Royal from Canal to around St Phillip – Lots of art galleries and antique shops. One block down from Bourbon but a world away from the insanity.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar – 941 Bourbon – Is the longest continuously running bar in America (or something quaint like that) They have a purple drink that will knock your socks off and you don’t even know your shoes are still on. The patio area has a small half circle with a cool statue in it. Kind of a sad story. Lafitte use to trade in slaves 9and anything else he could get his hands on.) This area was the auction block. The statue is of two people entwined lying on the ground of the auction block. To memorialize all of those that were torn from their loved ones in the slave trade.

If you find a “snowball” place, get one. Something creamy. It’s a snow cone in a cup but there is something about the creamy (versus the traditional fruity ones we get up here) that make them very special.

Dragos -2 Poydras – In the Hilton – Get their charbroiled oysters. Oh My GOODNESS. Amazing.

I still want to explore the Treme, the House of Dance and Feathers, Congo Square, Bacchanal's, Kermit's Speakeasy, Vaughn's, I want to be there for VooDoo Fest, Po-Boy Fest, Jazz Fest and everything else that ends with Fest. Mardi Gras is in my future. I want to become intimately familiar with City Park. ::sigh:: New Orleans - You've stolen my heart! 

Stress

I remember in my General Psych class that Mr. Barclay told us that stress comes in many forms. There are positive events that cause stress and negative events that cause stress. While some are easier to deal with than others, stress is stress. Here is my stress...

My son is leaving for the summer after an incredible trying school year. I love this kid more than life itself. I am very fortunate as he is a really good kid. He doesn't stay out past curfew, rarely talks back, does his chores when I remind him to, attends school, is kind to me and to others, and is a very caring person. I am proud of him in so many ways. I like the person he is. The issue is that he does his homework (most of it anyway) but he does not turn it in. I don't understand that. We are trying to get to the bottom of this issue, and in the last 2 weeks of school he really picked up the ball and did what needed to be done to salvage most of the school year, but I've gotta ask, "What's the deal with the homework?"

He is leaving on Friday for the summer with the Ex. I'm gonna miss him like wildfire, yet I am also looking forward to a few months of not having to be accountable to anyone but myself. If I decide to not eat dinner until 10pm, I can. If I decide to stay out until 1 in the morning, I don't have to check in. No groceries in the house? No problem. I hate when he is gone, but I relish the time as well. Weird.

I am buying a house! My first house. It is in the exact location I wanted, and it is perfect for Edward and I. It needs some work, but that work is going to keep me busy this summer, so maybe I won't miss the kid so much. I always end up in a bit of a funk when he is gone if I have too much time on my hands. This summer, time on my hands is not going to be an issue. I am really excited about the house. Picking out flooring and paint colors and planning on where to put the furniture, etc is so much fun. I say that now... Wait til I get that paint roller in my hands. My tune might change. This is a good, positive move for me. But still stressful.

School is also in full swing. I tend to complain about it a lot, but I know I am dreading the ending of it. A year from now I will have my degree. But then what will I do with my time? I will be Angela Marie Christensen, RN, BSN, OCN(R), MBA, MHA - Guess I will spend my extra time writing all those initials after my name :-)

On the guy front - Who knows what is happening there. I get through the day, have many friends to support me, but that elusive partner is still at large. There is a potential partner out there, but we are in such different places. For now, I have a friend. STRESS!!!

My heart is doing this strange pitter pattering. My Dr doesn't seem too worried, but he is sending me to a specialist. He thinks I have a hereditary condition (that no one else in my family seems to have)... But time will tell. More silly stress.

Good things in my world, but they sure are stressful. That's ok. It means I am living!