tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41970169538671065022024-03-13T07:47:10.819-07:00All I Want To Say...and probably some things I shouldn't!Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-19636239187409676592020-03-17T21:06:00.000-07:002020-03-17T21:06:30.110-07:00wow it's been a long timeI can't seem to write anything and yet I can't seem to let this space go. One of my long-time blogger friends seems to have reignited her passion for writing and it sparked something in me as well.<br />
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Where did I leave off?<br />
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Time is, of course, just flying by. My kiddos are hardly kids anymore. Young adults more like. Young adults with lives of their own. Who am I to intrude and reveal their secrets? But this blog is about me, and my kids are part of me, so I think they'll just have to suck it up.<br />
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The oldest has graduated from the University of Oregon and is now getting his masters in Arizona. He's a good kid. He finally took a liking to school, and it has rewarded him. The possibilities are endless.<br />
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The middle got married! I know, crazy, right?! I am learning to figure out how to deal with a kid who's left the nest to truly start their own life. No pictures - will have to work on that.<br />
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The youngest, well, two more years of high school for him. He's crazy tall, just like his brothers. It's interesting though, he's so different.<br />
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I got to take a few trips to the UK, see a castle or two.<br />
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We even got to play some rounds in Scotland - the St. Andrews Castle Course!<br />
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We enjoyed a family trip to Hawaii.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMgcE5mHp7NPBbrW45w2akkAJNNSGwzI1F_1IF46RZ85vtb-dT-0DQZgErJzVo7mVMTnxoLQ6k6LEWVjuRe6ivWeT5vkxOh6pDWfo8P_2DIQ2Dly29ppXTKmJwQqBXhS1sow8duRKRwg/s1600/IMG_4161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMgcE5mHp7NPBbrW45w2akkAJNNSGwzI1F_1IF46RZ85vtb-dT-0DQZgErJzVo7mVMTnxoLQ6k6LEWVjuRe6ivWeT5vkxOh6pDWfo8P_2DIQ2Dly29ppXTKmJwQqBXhS1sow8duRKRwg/s320/IMG_4161.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Waimea Falls - and look, they're all smiling!<br />
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Crazy kids</div>
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This year was a biggie - such a milestone.<br />
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I ended one chapter... <br />
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And started a new...</div>
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And I still have my wonderful, loving, attentive, guy. Who could ask for anything more.<br />
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All the while still finding the beauty around me.<br />
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Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-32753604705715864402018-10-08T09:11:00.004-07:002018-10-08T09:18:12.215-07:00Do you see me?Do you see me in the morning<br />Before your waking eyes<br />Foggy winds blow violently<br />And it’s calm<br />Coffee gurgling, drip, drip, drip<br />The light is too harsh though it is still dark<br />And it’s quiet<br />The steam of the shower<br />Makes a different kind of fog<br />But it’s clearer<br />Another light goes on<br />Meow for her food, the rumble of the cup as it scoops the dry food<br />The first sip; hot, rich, sweet and creamy<br /><br />All this and more before you wake. <br /><br />Do you see me during the day<br />8:00 am every day; too bad school starts later<br />Up and out early, walk on your own<br />Not the mom I want to be<br />Meetings, do this, remember that<br />Schedule this, clarify that<br />Oversee and manage, develop and grow<br />Personalities and egos and needs and expectations <br />Deliver, deliver, deliver<br />Work for promotion even if you don’t know what that looks like<br />Introvert must promote herself<br />Guilty taking a sick day<br />Guilty taking PTO <br />Make sure you get your hours <br />Make sure you get out. <br /><br />Do you see me in the evening<br />A quick check of the mailbox, mostly junk<br />Shoes off<br />Straight to the kitchen, off I go<br />Bag down, quick sort of the mail<br />“What’s for dinner?” Is a common refrain<br />Clank, tinkle, cabinets open and close<br />Chop, grind, stir, mix<br />Clank, tinkle, drawers open and close<br />Dinner’s ready! Let me start a load of laundry <br />If I’m lucky I pick a good question or two<br />While I have you captive<br />Fold clothes, switch loads, rinse and repeat<br />Dishes and counters<br />Homework check<br />I can sit down. <br />It’s time to go to bed. Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-31604870871369217812015-11-25T14:43:00.000-08:002015-11-25T14:52:11.530-08:00I'm Coming Out, Part 2<div style="color: black; font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">
<i>We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned,<br />so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.</i><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Joseph Campbell</span></div>
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The last time I <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/09/im-coming-out.html" target="_blank">came out</a> here was to drop the bomb that I was getting divorced. That post, too, was preceded by a long period of silence. Still waters run deep. If I am honest with myself, my silence again has much to do with my desire for things to be different. But they're not. I can no longer deny the path I am headed down. It is out of my control. <br />
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In looking back on all the years of raising the kids, I think I struggle(d) with the idea that somehow good parenting could control the outcome. In some ways it can, for sure. But in other ways, these beings are clearly of their own mind. The older they get, the more independent. In a strict logical sense, it's perfectly normal and expected. Emotionally, I've carried this thought that their outcome, what they are in life, is on me. I think most would agree that's a fairly large burden to carry around.<br />
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I have good kids. They know right from wrong. They exercise good table manners (at other people's houses). They are always polite to people they meet. All of them are still in school, learning to better themselves. The two oldest are actually working too.<br />
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But, and there is a but, it is interesting to note that the older two are not going down the path I wanted for them. That is not to say that their path isn't right for them, but that it's not the path I imagined twenty years ago when I started this journey.<br />
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I struggled when my oldest didn't go to a four-year right out of high school. It was disappointing. I saw it as him not reaching his potential. I also recognized that he just wasn't ready! My path for him was not his for himself. And that's okay. <br />
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He's still at home. Still delivering pizzas in between community college classes. I enjoy his company immensely and am so happy to have him around still. I am fortunate. He is now applying for his transfer to a 4-year and I'll support him on his path.<br />
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More recently I've been on a journey with my middle child. Nearly two years ago I came home from the Christmas party to a note on my pillow saying that he was experiencing "gender dysphoria" and wanted to start "HRT." My immediate reaction was being incredibly scared for my child. The world is a mean and nasty place, and kids can be the worst. <br />
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There were a number of factors at play at the time. Danny had been suffering from depression and anxiety for quite some time. Earlier in the year he confided in me that he had been cutting and doing self-harm. He entertained thoughts of suicide. He also lost his entire social network his freshman year of high school, was bullied by and ended up quitting his lacrosse team. He was in a dark, dark place. It broke my heart to know how severely he was hurting. To add another reason for kids to be mean to him seemed like it could push him over the edge. I did not want this life for my child.<br />
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We talked and had conversations. My initial reaction was that I didn't want him to make any big changes in his life when he was so fragile. Also, considering he was only 15 at the time, there was no way I was going to let him make a permanent decision about his life. At 15, you have no idea what your life is going to be like in 5 years, much less 10 or 20. How could he be so sure? But he was, and later that school year actually came out on Facebook to all his friends. And the kids were amazingly supportive.<br />
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I finally managed to find Danny a therapist that he could connect with and he started going consistently. It took far too long to be honest. Dealing with insurance companies and then finding a therapist that will actually call you back was no small affair. Then, of course, Danny needed to be able to connect with the therapist as well. Over time and regularly weekly appointments, the self-harm stopped. And the topic of transitioning became the crux of the issue. I wasn't opposed, but I wasn't running Danny to a doctor either. I had the cover of an unsupportive father for the meantime. It allowed me to bury my head in the sand. (As I type this, I realize how stupid that sounds but it was my excuse at the time.) I wasn't going to bring up the issue or push it at all.<br />
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I have my brother-in-law to thank for bringing the statistics to my ex-husband, and to me. The reality we needed to understand: would I rather have a dead son or an alive daughter. If put in terms like that, it seems clear as day, a complete no-brainer.<br />
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So over the course of this past summer, we did some investigation and there is a transgender clinic at UCSF. His father made the appointment and the three of us, as a family, went in September, on Danny's birthday as a coincidence. Two weeks ago we signed all the papers to allow the hormone therapy to begin. Signing those papers was hard. Harder than signing anything else in my life, including my divorce papers. I wanted to cry, but I needed to be supportive for Danny.<br />
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I am handling this okay. I am not sure Danny would say the same. From his perspective I'm sure it's taken way too long. And I still haven't switched the pronouns. I have more than 20 years of being a mom of boys - even a mom of <b>three</b> boys. That's part of my identity. This isn't a change that just affects Danny. It affects the whole family. Danny has had a tough time recognizing that - he is, after all, still a teen.<br />
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Where do we go from here? Well, the next step is the implant. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. I know eventually I'll walk across the floor. Pronouns will come. It takes time. I've had 17 years of a boy named Danny. I deserve some time to get used to my girl named Danielle. By the way, I have no idea how to parent a girl. FML. This is not the life I'd imagined for her or me but we play the cards we've been dealt. <br />
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Here's a pic. I did her hair. That was a big thing for me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAkJv-uy9zpIDkD1eUtZDo742W53hF23l9SHdIIJe-ccObBQyDAZi6gxFFoG7FsxqrV55H_sapQQNKEyjfU2_A0VakxZPBhpcmrsnLn9KFPn5pD8wAnDwb_wz5tyh4sadZ9-TyDWOI-8/s1600/danny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAkJv-uy9zpIDkD1eUtZDo742W53hF23l9SHdIIJe-ccObBQyDAZi6gxFFoG7FsxqrV55H_sapQQNKEyjfU2_A0VakxZPBhpcmrsnLn9KFPn5pD8wAnDwb_wz5tyh4sadZ9-TyDWOI-8/s320/danny.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-15129884572895834442014-02-28T18:08:00.001-08:002014-02-28T18:11:44.606-08:00the past eight monthsI've been missing this space. I miss the community. I miss the therapeutic nature of writing. I miss deep thoughts (and stupid ones too). I can't say my absence isn't without cause. It's actually been deliberate. <br />
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When I started at Twitter, I was unprepared that my personal Twitter account was going to be connected to the company, <i>my employer</i>. It didn't have to be. I could've setup a separate account, but it all just happened so quickly. I didn't think it through. I've since removed the blog URL from my profile and have been playing a waiting game. Hopefully enough time has passed (and that Google Reader ceased to exist) so any co-workers that might have been paying attention aren't any longer. Regardless, I want to play catch-up. <br />
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My last post was Sammy's graduation in June. Crazy. And since then there have been a lot of good times. <br />
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I've made new friends to golf with.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRU1eGNZGI_XCdhhvNaniJuQr9FKVvRIfCA9ic7UZeldeaGCcu8ZqV1l5rO6rC3JAEfjWz7JoqCSEsaBNYmZ6AeeqcT5W_XLyFZgNaMRPBY1UlN0Gtbf23DvAawvRLDM44rDhfyNAxMp8/s1600/IMG_2480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRU1eGNZGI_XCdhhvNaniJuQr9FKVvRIfCA9ic7UZeldeaGCcu8ZqV1l5rO6rC3JAEfjWz7JoqCSEsaBNYmZ6AeeqcT5W_XLyFZgNaMRPBY1UlN0Gtbf23DvAawvRLDM44rDhfyNAxMp8/s1600/IMG_2480.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Co-workers who <strike>love beer</strike> share the </span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">joy.</span></td></tr>
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Shared many drinks with friends.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mBcn1N4W_9QyKxUnqjftBtx1aJ5XaPJJTss1tKgSHA9GMGwv2JcCHnkNl24InWSCoG0PgZ-8IgiqHwVdypf9Lruv_fhsBR-Icbrki_RHORWWMQ__ps-QhOZ6Q4KtYLQISumWu58yoZ0/s1600/IMG_2550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mBcn1N4W_9QyKxUnqjftBtx1aJ5XaPJJTss1tKgSHA9GMGwv2JcCHnkNl24InWSCoG0PgZ-8IgiqHwVdypf9Lruv_fhsBR-Icbrki_RHORWWMQ__ps-QhOZ6Q4KtYLQISumWu58yoZ0/s1600/IMG_2550.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Those who need not be named.</span></td></tr>
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Met some famous people.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSC-tasDo_RsBL2g0017ZieKgetUZnZXQ-z5rV46UpUraZSk7CXrjcVTipT_G-lO-zak4ZerQP8uP6-pw8Fho6mboUwCB2DIbVfDTrSr9F6JTxU5Gpj8vvnmCvzK5Z_exGVGHGFRgTJ0/s1600/IMG_2577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSC-tasDo_RsBL2g0017ZieKgetUZnZXQ-z5rV46UpUraZSk7CXrjcVTipT_G-lO-zak4ZerQP8uP6-pw8Fho6mboUwCB2DIbVfDTrSr9F6JTxU5Gpj8vvnmCvzK5Z_exGVGHGFRgTJ0/s1600/IMG_2577.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://twitter.com/Cmdr_Hadfield" target="_blank">Commander Hadfield</a> and my dear friend <a href="https://twitter.com/luby" target="_blank">Lucy</a></span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRBGp3_9ReXGZUC4tnZAUA4Tf8ZeF_-05zfP1lOa3IPyNTrMwKme-2WYeOfRW8j7FbfKJVWRNXNHFLSlAcTLAMdfUQ0mMsxZNhtInv2ISuTmK8Dh53XqB8Uzby2xeqFXKQyMqkqZvqCM/s1600/IMG_2620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRBGp3_9ReXGZUC4tnZAUA4Tf8ZeF_-05zfP1lOa3IPyNTrMwKme-2WYeOfRW8j7FbfKJVWRNXNHFLSlAcTLAMdfUQ0mMsxZNhtInv2ISuTmK8Dh53XqB8Uzby2xeqFXKQyMqkqZvqCM/s1600/IMG_2620.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jean Luc Picard, I mean, </span><a href="https://twitter.com/SirPatStew" style="font-size: medium;" target="_blank">Patrick Stewart</a></td></tr>
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Thanksgiving was fun. The family went to Disney World to meet up with my sis and hers. Did you know that I <i>love</i> Disney? I'm kinda a freak about it actually.</div>
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Here I am imitating Donald Duck, my favorite character.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHhAosyqA2dl5UUMQlzQLQwSFveGGR4UlufjmqpGbcz9SOTvTpkscFOmAzhfkSBk-cuX4jo0muPMNdojVsxkoSi5ryQkb1zTQRFhyphenhyphenBlrB-mSohtQlBhWI98ICNlQcKCSM5cJSo5R0zUk/s1600/IMG_2737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHhAosyqA2dl5UUMQlzQLQwSFveGGR4UlufjmqpGbcz9SOTvTpkscFOmAzhfkSBk-cuX4jo0muPMNdojVsxkoSi5ryQkb1zTQRFhyphenhyphenBlrB-mSohtQlBhWI98ICNlQcKCSM5cJSo5R0zUk/s1600/IMG_2737.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Quack Quack!</span></td></tr>
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We actually got to enjoy a nice meal, too.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5ouRw-g7e2xz5KG6ZV8vV_7MBhAPYLD84qMO_wqnzYc2mfDRCtdF8wrgQ5GjEe5eLcpRV4jTUuqzfNnKQa7T2Zw9RhjdXzf9WP-BzcU671Jb1qVKYEltWr7Jv6cC0MjQJFTbUr97GMI/s1600/IMG_2833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5ouRw-g7e2xz5KG6ZV8vV_7MBhAPYLD84qMO_wqnzYc2mfDRCtdF8wrgQ5GjEe5eLcpRV4jTUuqzfNnKQa7T2Zw9RhjdXzf9WP-BzcU671Jb1qVKYEltWr7Jv6cC0MjQJFTbUr97GMI/s1600/IMG_2833.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Teppan Edo in Epcot.</span> </td></tr>
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And it wouldn't be vacation without a little golf (who's on the hat?).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRzGv3clje995lowR2TE2G10NTDpp_dn4xbRz6yw8xpjc89er0sLW7qZAE3QXaDW94ZLVTuCAN0SZNNcCAWRZQV4JNAzw-TZt6UbVi6OJADXm-AQCVIK1_9CmzOc-eCR6RFxyJ8PuIGU/s1600/IMG_2856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRzGv3clje995lowR2TE2G10NTDpp_dn4xbRz6yw8xpjc89er0sLW7qZAE3QXaDW94ZLVTuCAN0SZNNcCAWRZQV4JNAzw-TZt6UbVi6OJADXm-AQCVIK1_9CmzOc-eCR6RFxyJ8PuIGU/s1600/IMG_2856.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me and my sis!</span></td></tr>
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I went to a great Christmas party in the City.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidI12Uq-r38cWSHyL_ReSQr2Fu1KJeJ0xVeDi0A9RyUMyXKJ4cXqFgy_Y_Dnz8V6Jf7ysDTdu1x_eyVDSLW3hlr9-OeH8krhU6bbQxR5UnkYSmBOdwtNP4AIz8R3oc73derk1zbT0meys/s1600/IMG_2899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidI12Uq-r38cWSHyL_ReSQr2Fu1KJeJ0xVeDi0A9RyUMyXKJ4cXqFgy_Y_Dnz8V6Jf7ysDTdu1x_eyVDSLW3hlr9-OeH8krhU6bbQxR5UnkYSmBOdwtNP4AIz8R3oc73derk1zbT0meys/s1600/IMG_2899.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">San Francisco City Hall in Twitter Blue</span></td></tr>
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And played a little golf around the holidays too (thank you California!)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipexz9dtMd9xYoujqwh9bxcgUmnH8c8eV4K_QdDCjX1XgX4Yf0vocUmPLonqLavz2XjImiQUq47FWBq8vhEBaX0J-rjDPu1X1tGZHyfxXJ8ti2pXxpF2gajyyZkz3BGsquWPz647itBbI/s1600/IMG_2910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipexz9dtMd9xYoujqwh9bxcgUmnH8c8eV4K_QdDCjX1XgX4Yf0vocUmPLonqLavz2XjImiQUq47FWBq8vhEBaX0J-rjDPu1X1tGZHyfxXJ8ti2pXxpF2gajyyZkz3BGsquWPz647itBbI/s1600/IMG_2910.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Birdie!</span></td></tr>
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Finally, I wrapped up the year's end with someone special at a Sharks game.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIJBguzs7gfHDYqyGU9c6eEoBV4kHK6QDsZTsDcQ2avOPEbyLt9XkUn__a4EIhIJr3lo0zkEWyvau5FugKEt84BveKKfoAeZUfaBW6ENwDX2RVkCK66fORzrKBi0Kw2rAV18PnRCGtxQ/s1600/IMG_2931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIJBguzs7gfHDYqyGU9c6eEoBV4kHK6QDsZTsDcQ2avOPEbyLt9XkUn__a4EIhIJr3lo0zkEWyvau5FugKEt84BveKKfoAeZUfaBW6ENwDX2RVkCK66fORzrKBi0Kw2rAV18PnRCGtxQ/s1600/IMG_2931.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Birthday boy.</span></td></tr>
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After taking several months off from league, I went back to playing some pool.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0us_nwTd90l4u-BGatTANcMvR8fFoRJiHDsrQPQ8559hPiNIq_kXIsW3ar42p8udGBCwLgpS5gLshvhpxIkB0QWoIYHZ08WyUZsl3a2e3i_ZnLsyW0uXuIgg4vn7dyn6TZbSfTIMp0kg/s1600/IMG_3053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0us_nwTd90l4u-BGatTANcMvR8fFoRJiHDsrQPQ8559hPiNIq_kXIsW3ar42p8udGBCwLgpS5gLshvhpxIkB0QWoIYHZ08WyUZsl3a2e3i_ZnLsyW0uXuIgg4vn7dyn6TZbSfTIMp0kg/s1600/IMG_3053.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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And started a new tradition.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLirfqhBJKf5yJwNvLRjXRHB43tA44hJQG2s15b9qlSakDslvfnTi6bxW8sRzUf7D8-UCc8XoOoP1kD7GRP5gNq6t-VEAc9syb6J98cYkhBLj75_sgZgVE64jbBqFgbjIqAPK-YsiG9E/s1600/IMG_2990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLirfqhBJKf5yJwNvLRjXRHB43tA44hJQG2s15b9qlSakDslvfnTi6bxW8sRzUf7D8-UCc8XoOoP1kD7GRP5gNq6t-VEAc9syb6J98cYkhBLj75_sgZgVE64jbBqFgbjIqAPK-YsiG9E/s1600/IMG_2990.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Lasagna at Cathy's"</span> </td></tr>
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Of course there've been more drinks with friends.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2baJHerry4PJbKhO-5oiCU8QmdrfQJ0YIgedtkbJ6_HW4mTdwclVbmMM4RrnMZeWNU7y_HyhEzgobKJj_pv2WVgZy-1DchuJVI2gtEvbbX7BDYEg2q-72QPmgSQ_V0kaXaea9KfwC10k/s1600/IMG_3061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2baJHerry4PJbKhO-5oiCU8QmdrfQJ0YIgedtkbJ6_HW4mTdwclVbmMM4RrnMZeWNU7y_HyhEzgobKJj_pv2WVgZy-1DchuJVI2gtEvbbX7BDYEg2q-72QPmgSQ_V0kaXaea9KfwC10k/s1600/IMG_3061.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Friends forever.</span> </td></tr>
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And <i>someone</i> celebrated his 10th earlier this month!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4_tDJA2huAGTBtyNaEHaVKBJq9uWoju8e4UURvrej2iQDTNQSDKLY81FKz-jztudre_SQdanpFCdN3XnccCD6NsppFQP_3ci8tV96RVg5etNc8qmiyRwytU5MqNAw58sMnDRWBEyL_U/s1600/IMG_3076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4_tDJA2huAGTBtyNaEHaVKBJq9uWoju8e4UURvrej2iQDTNQSDKLY81FKz-jztudre_SQdanpFCdN3XnccCD6NsppFQP_3ci8tV96RVg5etNc8qmiyRwytU5MqNAw58sMnDRWBEyL_U/s1600/IMG_3076.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Why yes, he does love Minecraft.</span></td></tr>
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And there it is, the last eight months in review. Hope to be around here more often. <br />
<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-15636334068082147632013-06-14T16:43:00.000-07:002014-02-28T18:11:44.610-08:00one down, two to go<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0oSTmxGmX5DMdoNBr8llXh7H844MFyMVldZVIcgHAOc7dAPldOOKpVoweEkQ4b0VBQiDBcsJyHMNLFs4SVLmlMqA_dLNI6CWZHTSzyuxbq1Uj4pw0wcLPz6A-t5y7St29Dsq3K4ifkQ/s1600/IMG_2440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0oSTmxGmX5DMdoNBr8llXh7H844MFyMVldZVIcgHAOc7dAPldOOKpVoweEkQ4b0VBQiDBcsJyHMNLFs4SVLmlMqA_dLNI6CWZHTSzyuxbq1Uj4pw0wcLPz6A-t5y7St29Dsq3K4ifkQ/s320/IMG_2440.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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It feels odd to think that one of my boys is now a graduate. Part of me feels like it's been an eternity; part of me feels like it wasn't too long ago I was dealing with him as a stubborn two year old. It begs the question "where did the time go?" But that question has been <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/05/where-did-time-go_25.html" target="_blank">asked and answered</a>. </div>
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My job is done. But not really. I have an (almost) adult child. Just like my dad said when I got my driver's license, "Just because you got your license today doesn't mean that you're now an expert driver." My dad always has such <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/10/toy-soldier.html" target="_blank">sage advice</a>. The same principle can apply to being an adult. Just because he's a graduate, just because he'll soon be 18, these things mean something - but not much. There's still so much growing to do. I hope he grows throughout his life.</div>
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I still don't know what he'll be when he grows up. He doesn't know either and that's okay. He has passed this milestone and is on to the next.</div>
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Now for some pics:</div>
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The graduate with his brothers and mother. Clearly I'm shrinking....<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEKBy3lXnp5B79IHQzzTC-ss7VGyj1o3eAzeHFxmORPeorJi_uyVBFo8_CgrWbAKCrYZFRTOaQ8hAlCTl6ZbQqKUogfc-zP3dwnUa38Moy-KxuqqIqMccH8ku54_CNiBSkYqg7OlaX78/s1600/IMG_2443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEKBy3lXnp5B79IHQzzTC-ss7VGyj1o3eAzeHFxmORPeorJi_uyVBFo8_CgrWbAKCrYZFRTOaQ8hAlCTl6ZbQqKUogfc-zP3dwnUa38Moy-KxuqqIqMccH8ku54_CNiBSkYqg7OlaX78/s320/IMG_2443.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys and proud mama.</td></tr>
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We had the sweet surprise of East Coast family for the affair. My Dad and sister flew out just for the event. I couldn't have been happier.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKG00z2ElRuxZD2eDJd0yeviHiy9Da2pQB8P3DRfh052oOCcPb5Tj6s-euh8oUo3x8Gsf7k_v106dof9GcC6VPllrNYyqfN7x7PmpIw2Nil8Qmb_RYuDWGLJDELd1JssnlG4UL2JrDUc/s1600/IMG_2446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKG00z2ElRuxZD2eDJd0yeviHiy9Da2pQB8P3DRfh052oOCcPb5Tj6s-euh8oUo3x8Gsf7k_v106dof9GcC6VPllrNYyqfN7x7PmpIw2Nil8Qmb_RYuDWGLJDELd1JssnlG4UL2JrDUc/s320/IMG_2446.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The family (including Auntie Chris and Grandpa).</td></tr>
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This post would not be complete without the obligatory embarrassing photo. I could've found some butt shot from his baby-hood, but instead I chose the picture I took <i>this morning</i>. Yes, he still loves his Snoopy, a gift from his Auntie when he was born. He's going to kill me for this.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4kVe54npLVfG5pxS-cUgT4O-V6tDpJVGAS6ndYcJIOpYtr341EGSV6SGJePhEYr0kzgQG87Vb43ngoqruGgeqodg1W114fVyCuGFZSBOBJY14Vt5KFRSl0n96oa73ajbdQpPsyepajQ/s1600/IMG_2469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4kVe54npLVfG5pxS-cUgT4O-V6tDpJVGAS6ndYcJIOpYtr341EGSV6SGJePhEYr0kzgQG87Vb43ngoqruGgeqodg1W114fVyCuGFZSBOBJY14Vt5KFRSl0n96oa73ajbdQpPsyepajQ/s320/IMG_2469.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's still my baby.</td></tr>
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<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-28615179623387532562013-04-10T11:32:00.000-07:002013-04-10T11:32:34.084-07:00Proust Questionnaire I have been away from here for so long. It's weighing on my mind. Oh the irony of all the things I want to say but cannot. Some things are just too personal, too private. This must say a lot because repeatedly I hear, "I can't believe how open you are on your blog."<br />
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But I want to continue writing here. I want to continue participating in my virtual community. I've been looking for an opportunity to do something light and I found it on <a href="http://mothereseblog.com/2013/04/01/proust-questionnaire/" target="_blank">Kristen's</a> site - and she was inspired by another <a href="http://www.adesignsovast.com/2013/03/proust-questionnaire/" target="_blank">friend</a>. Hop on over to see their answers. I've posted mine below.<br />
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<em>What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?</em><br />Sitting through the middle school band concerts, including the chorus. </div>
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<em>Where would you like to live?</em><br />In a shack on a warm, quiet beach.</div>
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<em>What is your idea of earthly happiness?</em><br />A well-played round of golf. Snuggling with my kids. A night out for drinks with friends.</div>
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<em>To what faults do you feel most indulgent?</em><br />People who are unable to empathize. Sometimes it's just hard to understand when you haven't lived it.</div>
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<em>Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?</em><br />Luke Skywalker and Hans Solo, Harry Potter, Huck Finn.</div>
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<em>Who are your favorite characters in history?</em><br />Catherine the Great (I was named after her), Abraham Lincoln, Red Cloud.</div>
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<em>Who are your favorite heroines in real life?</em><br />Rosa Parks; Harriet Tubman.</div>
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<em>Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?</em><br />Hermione (<em>Harry Potter)</em>, Kinsey Millhone (Sue Grafton series), Charlotte (Charlotte's Web).</div>
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<em>Your favorite painter?</em><br />Tie between Monet and Van Gogh</div>
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<em>Your favorite musician?</em><br />Really tough to narrow this down to one, but guess would have to say Sheryl Crow but don't feel 100% on that.</div>
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<em>The qualities you most admire in a man?</em><br />Sense of humor, intelligence, kindness.</div>
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<em>The qualities you most admire in a woman?</em><br />Intelligence, comfortable with self, confidence.</div>
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<em>Your favorite virtue?</em><br />Contentment. Respect. Generosity. Perseverance. </div>
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<em>Your favorite occupation?</em><br />Systems engineer.</div>
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<em>Who would you have liked to be?</em><br />Myself - maybe a little improved by being less judgmental and critical.</div>
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<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-86870828554376835762013-01-03T14:27:00.000-08:002013-01-03T14:27:35.594-08:00checking inYah, yah. It's been awhile. I'm getting it done, out of the way. Here's my recap for the year including the look back at what I set out to accomplish for my <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/01/growth.html" target="_blank">year of growth</a>. I'm saving the pictures for the end. (I like to make things pretty with pictures because everyone knows I love pictures.)<br />
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<b>Playing more pool.</b> I score high on the commitment to improve my game. Unfortunately the result was not as I had hoped. But that's okay. I'm not giving up any time soon.<br />
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<b>Getting my swing on.</b> Major success in this department. I think I've logged more hours on the course this past year than in the past 3 years. And it shows in my swing and my score. Index is down over three points!<br />
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<b>Exercise </b>- Indeed a positive note here. Walking the golf course more frequently than not is definitely a checkmark in the exercise bucket. Even better than that? I've started running again. Not one, but two races - logging my best 5K time yet! The weather lately has hampered my running but not for long. The garage is getting cleaned out and my treadmill soon will be running or, more accurately, I will be running on it.<br />
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<b>Writing</b>. Ah, yes. This is my epic fail for the year. I haven't decided what to do in this regard. Only time will tell. <br />
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<b>Reading</b>. Hmmm, cannot say epic fail but definitely not where I want to be. On the plus side, I recently started a book and I have a few others on the nightstand waiting for me. <br />
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<b>Friendships</b>. I think a plus on this one. At least I hope I've been there more for my friends. I think 2013 will be a bigger year with more reaching out. <br />
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<b>Career focus.</b> I think a big plus on this one. A new job at an awesome company. Lots of growth potential. Some additional volunteer commitments in this space too. No negative here.<br />
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<b>New clothes</b> - one article a month. Well, I started the year well but haven't kept to my promise. Let's see if I can turn it around again in 2013.<br />
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<b>Purge, reinvent, learn. </b> I moved, therefore I purged. I spent weekends purging. I am still purging. This is an easy win for me. Reinvention, well not so much. But I am focusing on what I like and what I want to do to be the person I want to be. I think that's good enough. Learning - always.<br />
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Okay, now that I've checked in on my year of growth, here are a few of my favorite pics from the year. I'll take you month-by-month through some of the best memories.<br />
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<b>February</b> - just being silly with Henry and Sam up in Tahoe.<br />
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But who loves their mama?<br />
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<b>March</b> - getting in a few pow-pow runs - Mott Canyon for those of you wondering.<br />
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I also got to meet George Thorogood courtesy of Roland!<br />
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And the big boy, <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/03/all-growd-up.html" target="_blank">all grow'd up</a>.</div>
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Vegas in <b>May</b>, of course!</div>
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<b>June</b> held Danny's 8th grade graduation. <br />
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and a trip to <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/07/a-little-respite.html" target="_blank">Hawaii</a>,<br />
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including our first luau....<br />
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<b>July</b> I saw a baseball game. Um, why yes, that would be the San Francisco Giants (aka World Series Champs!)...<br />
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And we also <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/07/ive-been-waiting.html" target="_blank">lost a very special family member</a>. <br />
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In <b>August</b> - a typical meet-up for drinks with dear friends.<br />
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It also was when someone got his first car!<br />
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The <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/08/a-heavy-heart-and-sigh-of-relief.html" target="_blank">big move</a> in <b>September</b>.<br />
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<b>October</b> was my first "race". Okay, not really a race, it was the Dirty Girl Mud Run and it was fun!</div>
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And <b>November</b> showed me why early morning runs are the best.<br />
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<b>December</b> meant dinner with friends and co-workers.</div>
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And Christmas parties...<br />
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with MC Hammer as special DJ!</div>
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Not a bad year. And remember ...<br />
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<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-79935815249437930412012-11-12T15:20:00.000-08:002012-11-12T15:20:48.737-08:00avalanche<br />
It started on Monday. Just an ordinary day eating an ordinary dinner, but the conversation triggered it. Danny asked whose house they were going to be at for Christmas to which I replied it'd be mine. Henry immediately declared that he was sad about this. He was very matter-of-fact. He wanted us all to be together.<br />
<br />
Ouch. Ouch for him. Ouch for me.<br />
<br />
Out of nowhere that little nugget became an avalanche of emotion. Completely caught off guard, I found myself buried thinking only of the <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/09/im-coming-out.html" target="_blank">death of my forever dreams</a>. And it was an incredibly hard couple of days.<br />
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At some point I realized it was exactly a year ago that Mike decided he was done and called it quits. I remember the timing exactly because it was the Friday before the Eukel dinner, a charity event we had been attending together since 1995. But last year I attended alone. It was both sad and surprisingly enjoyable.<br />
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And of course everything is all about Thanksgiving (now that the election is over - yay!). Last year we celebrated Thanksgiving as a family, minus <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010_05_01_archive.html" target="_blank">one very important person</a>. It was awkward. It also was <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/11/death-in-end.html" target="_blank">very sad</a>.<br />
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And here I am today. Thinking about all this. Realizing how completely altered my world is now. Imagine if you will, the house that was your home destroyed by forces of nature - wild fire, hurricane, earthquake - whatever disaster comes to mind. Luckily you lived through it, but all that remained was a huge mess. Even though you were overwhelmed by the loss, you still managed to put one foot in front of the other and eventually had a tidy pile of rubble. And then it was time to rebuild.<br />
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Here I am. My new house is framed. The walls are up, but bare. There is a smattering of furniture, the minimum really. It's rather nondescript inside and feels hollow. It doesn't feel like home. Not yet.<br />
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Somehow I managed to get through last week. I mustered up the energy to do dinner with great girl friends Friday night. Saturday morning I did my first race in what feels like forever, and then basically spent the rest of the day in bed watching a bad movie. It was awesome. Sunday was golf and I cooked a dinner enjoyed by all, something that always makes me happy. <br />
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But what I did that mattered most was writing this post. I didn't hit publish on Friday night. I was too exhausted. The post was too raw and full of the emotion engulfing me. But writing those emotions out, making them make sense on "paper", it helped me process. <br />
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By the time I was done spilling my "whoa is me" I was done with being "whoa is me" and instead could see things differently. Yes my life is completely altered from what it was, but look at where I am today compared with a year ago! I'm not in limbo. I am not on the precipice of destruction and the unknown. I am no longer waiting for the hurricane to hit and instead I'm rebuilding. It's okay. I'm okay. I think I'm <a href="https://twitter.com/c2/status/268091287960449024" target="_blank">better than okay</a>.<br />
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And also, now I know why I write. <br />
Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-59823986267267480602012-10-28T19:48:00.000-07:002012-10-28T19:48:11.703-07:00a little bit boringTime keeps slipping away and this space remains stale. It's not that I don't have the time - I can find the time to do what I want. It's not that I don't want to write - I just can't figure out what to write. The divorce is done. The moves are done. Life is moving on. Kind of boring actually compared with all the heavy stuff in the months (okay years) prior.<br />
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So, to keep things boring, let me share with you the top ten discoveries of my new life.<br />
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1.) Keeping the house clean is really easy when there aren't kids around. Ridiculously easy.<br />
2.) I can go an entire week without washing a single dish when the boys are at their dad's. In fact, I can go an entire week without even filling the sink with my dirty dishes.<br />
3.) Laundry can now be done in three loads (or less) per week. Kind of boggles my mind but it's true. And that includes all the towels.<br />
4.) I tend to feel like I'm forgetting something when it's not my week with the boys. <br />
5.) Not having the boys every other week does not correlate to increased exercise, reading or writing. <i>Ahem.</i><br />
6.) I actually don't mind making the boys' beds when they leave for the week. Makes me feel good that their rooms look tidy and they're nice for when they return.<br />
7.) Garbage and recyclables need to go out whether or not the boys are around to do it. :/<br />
8.) The cat is far more sociable when the boys are not around.<br />
9.) Every other week the TV belongs exclusively to me. I can watch whatever I want exactly whenever I want.<br />
10.) I really miss the boys when they're not here but also manage to occupy my time in a fulfilling way.<br />
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Anyway, like I said, a little bit boring. But it's my new life. And I'm settling in. <br />
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P.S. - bonus points if you can find something a little different about this page.<br />
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<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-38801084061224317862012-09-12T10:44:00.000-07:002012-09-12T10:44:14.148-07:00today is day twoWhile all the chatter yesterday was about the horrible tragedy of 9/11, it was only a footnote to me. You see, for me, yesterday marked a much more personal event. Yesterday was the date I became officially divorced. Officially a single woman. Officially beginning a new life.<br />
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What, you might ask, did I do - if anything - to mark the occasion? I did fun and exciting stuff. I got the kids off to school and went to work. I met up with a friend for a cocktail (okay two) after work. I went to Tuesday night pool league. And then I went home and went to bed. Exciting I know.<br />
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And today, day two. I got the kids off to school and went to work. I'll go home and make the boys dinner. I'll unpack two boxes (that's my unpacking goal - two a day). I'll watch some TV. I might do some fantasy football research. Exciting I know.<br />
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I expect the rest of the week to be more of the same. But, I will say, changes are coming. More reading and writing. More golfing and regular exercise. I've even signed on to do one of those <a href="http://www.godirtygirl.com/" target="_blank">mud run events</a>. Exciting I know.Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-19449391558912222162012-08-31T09:39:00.000-07:002012-08-31T09:39:07.516-07:00a heavy heart and sigh of relief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been good at <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/11/this-seems-appropriate.html" target="_blank">moving forward</a>. It's easy really - there is no choice. The <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/09/im-coming-out.html" target="_blank">divorce</a> will be final in less then two weeks. September 11th to be exact. <br />
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The mountain that was selling our house, the last obstacle and final severance of our material ties, is now in the rearview mirror. The <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/07/ive-been-waiting.html" target="_blank">roller coaster</a> is parked on the platform and it's time to get off the ride. <br />
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Hence the sigh of relief. Hence the heavy heart.<br />
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I'll be moving this weekend. Into my own house. Into my own space. It will be, as the saying goes, the first day of the rest of my life. <br />
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I set some goals back in January about how this year would be the <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/01/growth.html" target="_blank">year of growth</a>. I reviewed the list and still feel they are true to my heart. I'll keep that post handy as a reminder and a tool to focus. I am eager to start a new routine - a much healthier routine. I am eager to see what this next chapter will hold for me. But it would be a lie if I were not to say I'm scared as hell.Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-5807454268537432122012-07-27T11:28:00.001-07:002012-07-27T11:28:54.087-07:00i've been waitingI've been a bit quiet around here quite intentionally. Lots of stuff going on and I didn't want to jinx anything. Well, keeping quiet hasn't helped anything so let me fill you in.<br />
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I got into a terrible legal mess at the beginning of June. I will not go into details but let's just say I'm retaining a lawyer and it is what it is, but it is not good. Boo!<br />
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We listed our house at the end of June and immediately got an offer. Yay!<br />
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We countered; they countered; we countered; they inspected; we were surprised (in a bad way); they countered; we countered. Finally we agreed to terms. Yay!<br />
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And then I realized I had no place to go and only four weeks to figure it out. Boo!<br />
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But then I found a place - the perfect place (well, as perfect as buying a house can be when you're low budget). Yay!<br />
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And then I started thinking about decorating and realized I have no skills in that department. Boo!<br />
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And then my boy's cat went missing. Boo!<br />
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And then we got word our buyer may not be able to perform. Boo!<br />
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And then our neighbor found our cat, dead. Double boo....<br />
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And we had to bury him on my oldest son's birthday which pretty much removed any desire to celebrate. Triple boo....<br />
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And then my realtor called and said that our buyer definitely could not perform and we need to go back on the market. Quadruple boo....<br />
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But through all of this, I feel okay. Actually I think I feel better than okay. Does all this all this blow like the sands of the Sahara? You bet. Will I get through it? You bet. Every trial I've been through just reaffirms my faith in myself and my ability to overcome adversity. More to the point, isn't this life? Everyone has ups and downs. Doom and gloom, worry, blame, negativity - none of those things are going to help or, more significantly, <i>change</i> anything. When I didn't fall to pieces this morning after I read the email from my realtor, I realized I'm making great progress. Yay!<br />
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And now, a picture of our lovely Tucker.<br />
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One Cool Cat </div>
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<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-6659949525710107582012-07-08T20:33:00.000-07:002012-07-08T20:33:00.723-07:00a little respiteIt's been almost three weeks since I last posted. Eh, what do you want? Summer is for little routine and lazy days although I think I've been anything but lazy.<br />
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I took two of the three boys off to Hawaii - Oahu actually. The firstborn was unable to attend due to a prior commitment (read summer school). It was my first trip anywhere in that great state and it did not disappoint.
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The kids all slept late and the peaceful quiet were all mine to savor. I got to wake up to this view <i>every single day</i>. This picture was snapped at about sunrise (also known as the latest I could sleep!)</div>
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Boys played in the sand and worked on their tans.</div>
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We visited the land of "Lost" (supposedly though I don't know for sure).</div>
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They jumped off Waimea Rock.</div>
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And played in the surf.</div>
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We visited a piece of history.</div>
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And Danny was asked to drive the boat!</div>
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We capped it off with a luau. The boys (and me too!) enjoyed themselves - can you tell?</div>
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Best of all, I can home with a lot of these:</div>
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I hope everyone is enjoying a nice summer. More news later....just waiting for things to settle down.</div>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-56025054650972017452012-06-19T12:24:00.001-07:002012-06-19T12:26:58.703-07:00fragileIt's a seesaw - up then down, up and down again. And again. And again. There are times when I am up so high only to come slamming down, jarred into rude reality.<br />
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A common theme for me around here is <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/03/perspective-yin-yang-and-moving-forward.html" target="_blank">perspective</a>. I've written about it <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/12/life-is-how-you-look-at-it.html" target="_blank">time</a> and <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/03/perspective.html" target="_blank">time</a> <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/09/one-long-weekend.html" target="_blank">again</a>. In fact, I write about it so much, I'm slightly amused when I look back on all the posts I've written and cited on multiple occasions. If you've been around awhile - you know. If you're new, take a peek.<br />
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The past few months (years perhaps) have been a bit foggy for me. It's crazy to think how long I've had turmoil in my life. But maybe that's just life. Some people have it easier then others - apparently I'm not one of them. I saw a quote recently that sums things up well:<br />
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<span style="color: #52205d; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">“I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.” — Blessed Teresa of Calcutta</span></blockquote>
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I am experiencing major upheaval in my life. Divorce, buying and selling houses, and moving are huge. Pile on top some major teenager drama and hurt little boys and it's amazing I even get out of bed every day. However, even with all this, I thought I was beginning to see the light. I thought I had hit rock bottom and was climbing out. No, I <u>knew</u> I was climbing out and it felt <strike>good</strike> better.<br />
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And then - BAM! - something major happened to me a few weeks ago and it made me realize that what I thought was rock bottom was merely a ledge on a cliff and I silently slipped off. It'll be awhile before this free-fall is over and all I can do is compartmentalize and hope for the best.<br />
<br />
It made me realize how truly fragile I am; how uncertain and lengthy this recovery will be. I can only keep my perspective. I have my boys and we have our health. I have a great job that motivates me to get out of bed every day. There are many people far worse off then I.<br />
<br />
And hey - at least I'm falling and haven't gone splat (yet). Can someone throw me a parachute, please?<br />
<br />
<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-46770410137872651242012-06-02T20:43:00.002-07:002012-06-04T10:11:31.392-07:00the great paradoxEvery once in awhile I stumble across a great piece of writing that speaks to me, causes me to think and reflect. Tonight I was watching an episode of the show <i>Touch </i>and it had such a piece.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The universe, from atom to galaxy, is in a perpetual state of flux - but we humans don't like change. We fight it. It scares us...so we create the illusion of stasis. We want to believe in a world at rest - the world <i>right now</i>. Yet our great paradox remains the same. The moment we grasp the <i>now </i>- that <i>now </i>is gone. We cling to snapshots, but life is moving pictures. Each nanosecond different then the last. Time forces us to grow, to adapt, because every time we blink our eye, the world shifts beneath our feet.</blockquote>
The timing of hearing this piece is uncanny. Things are moving forward here. Last week we finalized our marital settlement agreement and signed the listing agreement with the real estate agent to sell the house. Everything is very real - for everyone. And it's hard.<br />
<br />
The teenager is acting out. The attitude is distasteful yet rationally understandable. The behavior suspect and, in some circumstances, quite obvious. In all cases, not good. The venom spewing is hurtful. It hits me at my core. And yet somehow I am supposed to remain unemotional and understanding. Teen years are tough - nothing compared to the "terrible twos" - add to that a divorce and a move and all the uncertainty to which that translates - of course it's a volatile situation.<br />
<br />
And last night, as I'm tucking in my youngest who is now aware, the tears start flowing. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to leave our house. Of course, you know it's not just the house. And I hold him and he sobs. And I do what I should - what I know I should do. I reassure my love for him and that everything will be okay. I explain how he's too young to remember that we've moved many times before. I recount all the moves his brothers have been through. I hold him and tell him that it'll be a new adventure - he'll have a new house and a new room.<br />
<br />
And still he sobs. And all he can say is "I just want it to be the same."<br />
<br />
Yeah baby, I do too. But nothing will ever be the same - and as the above passage states so rightly - it never could be even if you carry the illusion that it will be. But that's a lesson difficult for even an adult to grasp. <br />
<br />
<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-37031886269884233272012-05-21T13:19:00.000-07:002012-05-21T13:19:20.785-07:00i can't do that<br />
I'm not sure if there is anything I can't do. That is such a strong statement and one I don't think I want to utter. Something I've heard repeatedly throughout the years is that if you say you can't do something, then you won't be able, and so I try to avoid that line of thinking.<br />
<br />
<b>There are things I find hard to do:</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>keep my cool when I'm hungry</li>
<li>leave the kitchen messy</li>
<li>drive the speed limit (aka slow!)</li>
<li>lower my expectations</li>
<li>relax and just live in the moment</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<b>There are things I won't do:</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>jump out of an airplane (have you seen the statistics on that?!)</li>
<li>settle for less then I'm worth</li>
<li>take unnecessary financial risks</li>
<li>stop worrying about my kids</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
"Can't" makes it seem like the subject is out of your control, as if you are a victim. I'm struggling now to think of something, anything that is truly out of my control. There are plenty of things that I choose NOT to control and may even convince myself that I have no control. But if I am honest to myself, deep down I know that these things are in my control. It is a function of my action or inaction whether or not I can or cannot do something. Right now, I will choose to believe that there is nothing I can't do.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-228099643887631482012-05-04T12:00:00.000-07:002012-05-04T12:00:21.259-07:00Arms Crossed<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This piece of memoir comes via <a href="http://writeonedge.com/2012/05/red-writing-hood-more-than-words/" target="_blank">The Red Dress Club’s</a>
challenge this week to begin a narrative with the idea of “crossed arms.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
************************************************************************<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I walk in and drop onto the brown leather sofa, arms crossed, knees touching
and my feet turned in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Hi Cathy. How
are you?" she asks as she always does.
Her opening line superficial compared with the looking, studying me for
the non-verbal answers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Oh I'm fine.
And how are you?" I pleasantly reply. I've got a smile on my face but I know she
doesn't believe me, and this session isn't about her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I'm good," she replies with a quick, all-knowing
chuckle. It's the beginning of the
dance. Her eyes are probing and I drop
my gaze. With the pleasantries behind
us, the standard inquiry is presented. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"So, really, how are you? What's going on with you?" she
asks. Such a loaded question this week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sit quietly, arms still crossed, head bent down looking at
the crisscross pattern, an elongated letter X my arms make being folded into
one another. And still I remain
quiet. Moments pass without a word but
there's no pressure to speak. She will
wait for me. It's too difficult to speak
and she knows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tears fall silently and finally I must unfold my arms to
reach for the tissues. I grab a few
and dry my eyes. I stall by continuing
to dab at them repeatedly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"It's been a really hard week." I manage to say,
my voice hard to hold steady so it comes out barely more than a whisper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And still she sits in silence waiting for more. She knows it will come and it does. I sink in to the sofa and begin to relax and
release a flood of emotionally full words.<o:p></o:p></div>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-58075019407202531392012-04-27T09:07:00.000-07:002012-04-27T09:27:16.532-07:00Five for Five: Listening<div style="text-align: center;">
Did you listen to me?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Did you listen to what I had to say?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Or did you go about your life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In your own selfish sort of way?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How could I be just some background noise</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So easily dismissed, easily ignored?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Was listening to what I have to say</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only going to make you bored?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Was it really so hard</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To care what I'd say?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Why, oh why</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Did you treat me this way?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
</div>
<div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I was so lonely here and</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That's not how it was meant to be.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hearing just isn't the same as</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You listening to me.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I gave so much of myself,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As much as I could.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
All in support of us,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I thought I was doing good.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Together we were supposed to stand</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The ultimate test of time.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But you wouldn't take the time to listen</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And therein lies the crime.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
You want to sail away on a boat</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Play some poker, put a ball on a tee.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So we've met with the lawyers,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And divided our property.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To hell with the marriage.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To hell with the kids.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But breaking our boys' hearts,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That I cannot forgive.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Today we are divided</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only to fade away.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If only you had listened,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There might have been another way.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But you couldn't listen.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I don't think you know how.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am alone with my blog</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
At least some people are listening now.</div>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-5874705202812307582012-04-26T09:27:00.000-07:002012-04-26T09:27:23.135-07:00Five for Five: AgeI am cheating a bit today. I am reposting something from November 2010 - something about age, something about feeling older.<br />
<br />
*********************************************************************************<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I constantly profess how young I </span><i style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">feel </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">compared to my chronological age. For years I was twenty-six. It didn't matter what the calendar said, I was still twenty-six. Within the past year or so, I've bumped my age up to twenty-eight. Not quite sure why, but it feels right. </span><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Before today, I could not speak to the reasons that made me feel older or younger. Today, however, today I did one thing which has caused me to feel older.</span><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">My </span><a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/05/coming-full-circle-five-for-ten-on.html" style="background-color: #446666; color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Uncle</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> passed away at a very awkward moment - it was literally less than 48 hours before I was to get on a plane with my three kids and head to Disney World for an extended Thanksgiving vacation. My husband had separate travel arrangements and was meeting us there having been out of town all week on business. My sister and brother-in-law and their three kids also were flying in for the holiday. Being a practical person, I had no idea what his death would mean to the immediate plans.</span><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">My Uncle's wife, Karen, knew of our planned combined vacation. She knew that sisters living 3,000 miles apart having the opportunity to spend a holiday together, with our families, cousins playing with cousins, was something that didn't happen often. Karen, the beautiful, giving woman that she is, recognized the importance. She knew that with the death of our Uncle, we'd need each other more than ever. Being cremated and with no particular religious requirements, there was no rush for services. Karen, as usual, gave of herself and gave my sister and me the precious gift of time. Time for sisters to be together, to share in our grief. Time for our families to enjoy what we could of our long-planned vacation. And so we carried on with our plan. We went on vacation. </span><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Now vacation is over and it's time to do what must be done. Being the so-called "writer" in the family, I offered to Karen, no, I </span><i style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">suggested</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">, that I help write my Uncle's obituary. There was a basic one put in the local paper back East, but I wanted </span><i style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">more</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #446666; color: #cceedd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">. I wanted more of Uncle Mike in it because he was so much more to me. I have never thought about having to write an obituary. I don't recall my mother's obituary at all. But today I wrote an obituary. Today I feel older.</span>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-88255168966006511872012-04-25T08:20:00.002-07:002012-04-25T08:20:26.794-07:00Five for Five: Pictures<div style="text-align: center;">
Picture me, picture me, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
picture me this.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Skies of blue and</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
grasses green,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
California poppies</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in full orange bloom.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The warmth of the afternoon sun</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Politely interrupted by foggy breeze.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcdjD88Z5MFJ-PAm9cFZxf5kclQHIVMxRyybORxkUbFfnnWIknzksioO59P-GFbIaaDjAJIxc-GLOoF2_XW_UdW_S0NfuZDscx4L29_gCDgcENQoaa3e45XdANZ054S25uBH2YDQHNcbk/s1600/sf+and+poppies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcdjD88Z5MFJ-PAm9cFZxf5kclQHIVMxRyybORxkUbFfnnWIknzksioO59P-GFbIaaDjAJIxc-GLOoF2_XW_UdW_S0NfuZDscx4L29_gCDgcENQoaa3e45XdANZ054S25uBH2YDQHNcbk/s320/sf+and+poppies.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Picture me, picture me,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
picture me this.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Blonde and fuzzy,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
soft and curly.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eyes with long lashes,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Open wide and brightly blue.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Delicious chubby cheeks</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
both pale and pink.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3YPCd6-ns_Pq5-lGq4LITjxJfsLdjvBUsReGk-21fIkXFG9tNo5UWIL3sU3VhZvLb1eZ_AoYCsavJm_nclvwQucRbCZxOGxP93-h3pwI4C4lulJDafxEkgsLxb-vYAJHhfLFDUDR3V8/s1600/3boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3YPCd6-ns_Pq5-lGq4LITjxJfsLdjvBUsReGk-21fIkXFG9tNo5UWIL3sU3VhZvLb1eZ_AoYCsavJm_nclvwQucRbCZxOGxP93-h3pwI4C4lulJDafxEkgsLxb-vYAJHhfLFDUDR3V8/s320/3boys.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Picture me, picture me,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
picture me this.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No need for photos, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Forever etched in my mind.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The beauty of things</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In this so-called life.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The wonder and feel of</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
true treasures.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-80206064219854919112012-04-24T10:58:00.001-07:002012-04-24T10:58:05.400-07:00Five for Five: Words<div style="text-align: center;">
Softly spoken in my ear,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The sweetest thing I'll ever hear.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The power to move me, to make me whole.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The sweetest gift I'll ever know.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3M8XjxnzBNdfXI8E6BoHeHpzUMZvy9CZnfN9dfa9hZyGnnqGVUVnZLlR1zvk5bs7TqBPGqwvpuzo5oq0_qlFG0XfEG0kd1quEgYIq31JHOwP4mghyV1TUCZFsZ6N8y0uUn9gZ7uBmYGY/s1600/3194154-man-whispering-into-woman-s-ear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3M8XjxnzBNdfXI8E6BoHeHpzUMZvy9CZnfN9dfa9hZyGnnqGVUVnZLlR1zvk5bs7TqBPGqwvpuzo5oq0_qlFG0XfEG0kd1quEgYIq31JHOwP4mghyV1TUCZFsZ6N8y0uUn9gZ7uBmYGY/s320/3194154-man-whispering-into-woman-s-ear.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
What are these words you ask?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What is it that they say?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It depends on who.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It depends on the day.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLv6lI2qx3Q16zvJ4og4ys9sewl5_yofuWltF-AyHbqEok-QatjImErkKGa6VJqVc7d4aRkRTdRcow4IRh4rEI7Cw2dkXihaNPb6-vuvPNR_AcJgNPYooOCIAMV8DpKa4eYyGc8Mc75Y/s1600/61916rl0dfz3g8t.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLv6lI2qx3Q16zvJ4og4ys9sewl5_yofuWltF-AyHbqEok-QatjImErkKGa6VJqVc7d4aRkRTdRcow4IRh4rEI7Cw2dkXihaNPb6-vuvPNR_AcJgNPYooOCIAMV8DpKa4eYyGc8Mc75Y/s320/61916rl0dfz3g8t.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So many opportunities to look at things anew.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You need be present to know what's true.</div>
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All you have to do is open up and feel.</div>
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And listen to the words that are so real.</div>
<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-78174283646828954832012-04-23T10:47:00.000-07:002012-04-23T10:47:25.151-07:00Five for Five: Change<br />
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Brother, can you spare a dime?</div>
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I am weak to drink.</div>
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Voices keep shouting in my head.</div>
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A cup of coffee, a loaf of bread.</div>
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Whatever you can spare.</div>
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Can you help me out?</div>
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No? God bless you.</div>
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We're just trying to get by. </div>
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Thank you brother. Thank you.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-6VJafaU2mmznQ7MbRPfnuYH8_4WGts_YknEXU0FD8q21hLlr3Qy5DtEQhO_2aLOJ_0PPOvgpPtvIukFfsbH64MeLwjohedWeYjEdcOnfFuRvmAULVUFb9waEWZWXB4dhg9EXXZRxEU/s1600/woman+and+child.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-6VJafaU2mmznQ7MbRPfnuYH8_4WGts_YknEXU0FD8q21hLlr3Qy5DtEQhO_2aLOJ_0PPOvgpPtvIukFfsbH64MeLwjohedWeYjEdcOnfFuRvmAULVUFb9waEWZWXB4dhg9EXXZRxEU/s320/woman+and+child.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sister, can you spare a nickel?</div>
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Been beaten and beaten down.</div>
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And I need to protect my baby.</div>
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The street is hard and the nights are cold.</div>
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Anything really. Anything for a room.</div>
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I need to buy me and my kid some food.</div>
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No? No worries. God bless you.</div>
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We're just trying to get by. </div>
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Thank you sister. Thank you.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-2AKrSidvSvqJgMsEANrdJoHHfIKSXnbzBl9hnggh26zIvmMVNVMnAy15bOwbhOyMOrI6lVKH0vfcnAD8Sk-JCBoraztDSqcCe4iY2H02_pQnT1pltHqiCvLAYfM3PYMuZaNHBBiRVk/s1600/sax+player.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-2AKrSidvSvqJgMsEANrdJoHHfIKSXnbzBl9hnggh26zIvmMVNVMnAy15bOwbhOyMOrI6lVKH0vfcnAD8Sk-JCBoraztDSqcCe4iY2H02_pQnT1pltHqiCvLAYfM3PYMuZaNHBBiRVk/s1600/sax+player.jpeg" /></a></div>
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People can you spare some change?</div>
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I used to play with the best but been down on my luck.</div>
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Lost my gig and got bills to pay.</div>
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Life's been hard but I will play you a tune.</div>
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What do you fancy? </div>
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A sweet song, a blue melody.</div>
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Brother, sister, can you spare some change?</div>
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No? God bless you.</div>
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Maybe next time. </div>
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<i>This post is inspired by <a href="http://momalom.com/2012/04/five-for-five-topics-revealed-finally/" target="_blank">Momalom's Five for Five</a>. Todays' topic: Change. Come <a href="http://momalom.com/2012/04/change/" target="_blank">link</a> up!</i></div>
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<br /></div>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-79636858878609547282012-04-13T14:52:00.000-07:002012-04-13T14:52:29.206-07:00what do you think?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've been so inconsistent in posting these days. Part of it is the inability to make the time. I have the time. I'm just not writing. Part of the "not writing" bit is my concern about "how fucking depressing do I come off?" I mean really. There's only so long people remain interested in reading downers all the time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am not all doom and gloom but it's an urge I constantly fight, given the circumstances. And, in an effort to break out of the rut, to focus on other things, I've started collecting a list of post ideas as things flit through my mind. Some of it might be parenting, some of it might be professional, some of it might be....I don't know what. But who cares! Onward!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Twitter provides me with a stream of links to interesting reads. (I follow, therefore, I must find interesting.) A Tweet that caught my eye the other day read something like, "Pro Golfers Struggle To Balance Work And Time With New Babies" with a <a href="http://www.8bitdad.com/2012/04/07/pro-golfers-struggle-to-balance-work-and-time-with-new-babies-13580/" target="_blank">link</a> to the story. I'm not sure what I was expecting to read. Likely something along the lines of managing a new family while traveling so much. I love golf and I know the efforts surrounding a "normal" job and work and was curious as to how their lives might be similar to my own (or different too).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Instead I found a little piece that started me thinking. It seemed to me that the author was poking fun because Bubba Watson has yet to change a diaper on his one month old newly adopted baby. Like it's a bad thing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So my question to you all is, do you really need to deal with the shit (no pun intended - well, yes it was) of parenthood to make you a good parent? Gosh I don't think so. I think about all the shit I deal with as a parent and I know that if I didn't have to deal with half of it, I'd be so much happier and a much better parent. Why do people feel that you have to slog through the unpleasantries to earn a badge?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I say give Bubba a break - he did win the Masters for cryin' out loud. I'm sure he can afford to hire someone to change those nasty ones. And, any parent out there knows that there will be plenty of opportunity to change diapers over the next few years. No one in their right mind would NOT want to get out of that if they could.</span>Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-55217740682920307172012-03-27T16:21:00.001-07:002012-03-27T16:21:51.013-07:00all grow'd upOkay - maybe not all grow'd up but seriously, look at this picture and you tell me.<br />
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Here is my oldest all dolled up ready to go to his junior prom. Together with his hot girlfriend. <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/05/where-did-time-go_25.html" target="_blank">How can this be?</a> How has time gone by so quickly? <br />
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Honestly it doesn't feel like it went by quickly. It doesn't "feel" either way. But if I sit back and think of all the things that have happened in my life since he was born, I question if it hasn't been forever.<br />
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<b>Things in my life since his birth:</b><br />
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<li>Moved cross-country twice (moved three times in total but once was before he was born).</li>
<li>Lived in six different houses.</li>
<li>Had two other children (<a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/09/today-i-am.html" target="_blank">one of whom almost died</a>).</li>
<li>Got <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/05/sliver-strand.html" target="_blank">my first grey hair</a>.</li>
<li>Held eight different jobs.</li>
<li>Had four different careers.</li>
<li>Competed in pool tournaments on regional, state and national levels.</li>
<li>Learned how to golf (not well I might add).</li>
<li>Owned seven different vehicles.</li>
<li>Managed dealing with 12 consecutive years in the same elementary school (three more to go).</li>
<li>Survived teaching one son to drive (so far).</li>
<li>Buried my <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/05/five-for-ten-notes-on-courage.html" target="_blank">mother</a>, grandmother and <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2010/05/coming-full-circle-five-for-ten-on.html" target="_blank">uncle</a>.</li>
<li>Left my husband, reconciled and then have been <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/09/im-coming-out.html" target="_blank">left by my husband</a>.</li>
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Like I said, maybe feels like forever. And I'm not old! Really, I am not. Unless, of course, you ask my teenager.</div>
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<br />Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4197016953867106502.post-25423906853892296662012-03-10T20:50:00.000-08:002012-03-10T20:50:04.824-08:00perspective, yin yang and moving forward<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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More and more I am feeling happier. It's a good thing. I have my moments, but really I am seeing the sun instead of the gloom. And it feels good. <br />
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I noticed the cloud between the good and the bad and it made me think of yin yang. Would I even notice the good in my life without the bad I've been living? I've written time and again about <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/09/one-long-weekend.html" target="_blank">perspective</a>. I revisit this theme <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/01/what-do-you-do.html" target="_blank">again</a> and <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/12/life-is-how-you-look-at-it.html" target="_blank">again</a> and <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/03/perspective.html" target="_blank">again</a>. It is true to my core. <br />
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Yin yang feel related. Different from perspective, but similar too. The philosophy of yin yang is, in brief, that there are opposing forces of energy and one cannot exist without the other - how light cannot exist without dark. It explains the irony of my divorce papers being filed and served on me during my first week at my awesome new job.<br />
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I feel like I am rounding a bend. At the same time, I'm afraid to feel hopeful but that doesn't mean I don't feel some hope. Does that even make sense? I am moving <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2011/12/minute-by-minute.html" target="_blank">forward</a>. Now that the papers are filed and served, the clock is counting and there will be only six months until it's officially blessed by the state.<br />
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True to my word, this will be my year of <a href="http://www.alliwanttosay.com/2012/01/growth.html" target="_blank">growth</a>. Maybe since I've been enveloped in the yin, it's now time for the yang.<br />
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I know there is not a lot of new content in this post. I just want to put something out here so my friends virtual and real know that I'm doing okay. And week one at Twitter totally rocked!Cathy Reaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17992988420792391924noreply@blogger.com