A great afternoon

Ok, done. I turned 40. The Earth did not slip off its axis. After lunch with Burpykitty, I went of by myself to do something I am too ashamed to do with others around. Unfortunately, by its very nature, what I wanted to do needs to be done in public, in a very specific place, in a very specific way.

I slipped off to my destination. I walked through the tall doors, and paused for a moment, breathing deeply. I did not linger though; I had to walk around the inner circumference to be sure no one I knew was there. It was not where I was that was embarrassing, it was what I was there to do.

Barnes and Noble was clear of anyone familiar. I quickly, but surreptitiously, headed to the diet, nutrition and self-help section. About halfway down, in the fitness section, is the fashion section. Nina Garcia and Rachel Zoe, "How not to Look Old" next to "What not to Wear". I grabbed a stack of books about six high, and slunk over to the Starbucks Cafe inside the bookstore. I spent the next two hours hunched over brightly illustrated books, and allowed myself to be yelled at by women who weigh as much as I did my sophomore year of high school.

It was heaven.

Caught between two worlds...

Tomorrow is the day. November 19, 2008.

I was fine with turning 40, because I had it in the back of my mind that once I got forty out of the way, I would go back to the thirties. My brother was kind enough to shatter this illusion for me.

I am currently obsessed with fashion and style books. I go through this every once in a while. Apparently this is how I deal with milestone birthdays. I need to know how to dress for this new age. Some say all the worlds a stage, I say it is a series of themed costume parties.

The Countdown Begins

I have exactly on week left of my thirties; one week during which I can honestly be referred to as a young woman. I will be turning 40 one week from today.

I was raised in a time when 40 year old women wore comfortable shoes and had sensible haircuts. I was raised thinking bitterness and unhappiness were inevitable. I spent my teens assuming my Joie de Vie had an expiration date. I am so happy to be wrong about that.

Two factors have worked together to make my life a fairytale. When I was 16, I gave my life to the Lord. I became a born-again Christian. My relationship with God has not been a smoothly ascending path through fragrant flowers. In fact, sometimes it is a battlefield. But it has been consistent. Though I have rejected Christ's lordship over my life, His love and grace have never abandoned me. I will work for the next 23 years to be as consistent a follower as He has been, a Lord.

The other factor that has made my life better than my best childhood fantasies is my husband. I met Steve in a bar in 1991, eight months after the birth of my beautiful son, Alex. Steve was everything I thought I could never have, handsome, educated, and kind. For reasons I will never understand, he is crazy about me. He makes me want to be the woman he sees when he lookes at me. His love makes up for all the pain in my life. His love has made me who the mother, sister and friend that I am today. He is, without a doubt, God's greatest earthly gift to me. Every day I try to deserve the love of this man.

So here I am, almost forty. I am about forty pounds over weight. My face is starting to droop, my lines are starting to deepen, and it takes a little longer these days to look fresh and pretty. I am the mother of two teenagers, one "tween" and on little kid. I am so busy I forget to eat, or sometimes even pee.

I feel exactly like a princess. I think I won the life lottery. I am the happiest girl in the world.

If this is what my first forty years brought me, I can't wait to see what the next forty might bring.

One hundred dollars.....

My 28 year old sister and my 21 year old brother are living with Steve and me and our four kids. Because of this,it is rare for the six of us that make up my immediate family to have dinner alone. Last night was the first time it has happened in the several months we have been in our new home. Both the sibs were working, and Alex was off.

My family has been hit by the economic firestorm, same as most Americans. We have tried to be faithful in our giving, in spite of the uncertainty that we are feeling. Steve and I decided to give a portion of our normal tithe to another charity, besides our church. In the past we have given to St. Jude's Children's Hospital, and Birth Choice, a pro-life abortion counseling center. We decided to get the kids input and pick one as a family. Steve and I took advantage of the family meal to ask the kids about it. Their responses shocked and delighted me.

"We have $100 t0 spend on a charity that we choose. We wanted to know where you thought the money should go." I said.

They began talking over each other at once. 11 year old David piped up, "Children's' hospitals."

14 year old Katie said "I always think of young mothers. It must be hard to be poor and have kids to take care of."

18 year old Alex, ever global minded said, "Starving kids in Africa."

But the most passionate response came from 6 year old Annie. "Homeless people!" We all stopped talking and looked at her in surprise. She went on, meeting our eyes, sharing information she found to horrible to be believed. "There are people in this world who don't have homes! They live in the wild, and they need money to buy clothes, and food! Maybe we could give them a thousand dollars to buy a house." She looked at us beseechingly and went on. "They don't have homes. We need to help them."

I didn't know Annie knew homelessness even existed. Not only does she know, she cares. All the kids made their cases for the charities that thought we should support, but no one came close to Annie's passion and persuasiveness. I think we were convince of her commitment when she began pounding on the table chanting "Homelessness, homelessness," like Al Pacino, but in a very different sort of movie.

The truth is, they are all important causes. Bad economy does not preclude children getting sick. Africa is no better than it has ever been. Children are dying of starvation and AIDS. Single mothers need more help than ever, especially if Christians say they oppose abortion. My eyes filled with tears, because, as my family made their points about the causes they wanted to support, $100 suddenly seemed like such an insignificant amount, and there is so much need and pain in the world.

In the end, Annie won. Steve and I decided that, starting with the youngest, the kids would choose the charities for the next four months. After that, maybe Steve and I will get a turn, and then we will start over.

I am proud of my kids, and how instantly they came up with things they thought were important. Not one of them even paused long enough to ask if we could keep the money, even though we have been going without things we used to take for granted.

Where would you give a hundred dollars?

How did this happen?

As I was growing up, I always related to the outcasts. I was a young child at the very end of the hippie movement. I envied their freedom, and ability to live there lives without caring about what people though. When I saw David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust, I was in love.
In 1983, my freshman year of high school, I had a hard-core punk-rocker in my biology class. I can't imagine what he saw in me, with my tortoise shell glasses, bad haircut, and hand me down clothes, but he began to indoctrinate into the world of punk music and rebellion. I felt like I found my place in the world. I had already been wearing hand-me-downs for years, as my adoptive mother felt that school clothes were an unnecessary expenditure, so it was a small leap to go from ugly accidentally to ugly on purpose. I got contacts and cut my hair into a mohawk. Being rejected by society somehow made me feel accepted. I had a spine of steel when it came to being myself, and expressing my self creatively. I eschewed social status at school, never went to a single school dance, and sneered at cheerleaders.
Fast-forward, 25 years. I have a 14 year old daughter. She is tall, slender and beautiful. She is also a cheerleader. My years of muttering about how anti-woman it is to stand on the sideline, cheering for the boys, have fallen on deaf ears. She has also been nominated for freshman homecoming princess. Not in a "Carrie-let's dump-pig-blood-on-her" way, but, a "she's-sweet-and-pretty" way.
How did this happen?
And why am I so proud of her?

In the eye of the beholder

As I sit, I have a veiw out my front window of a hill with tall majestic palm trees. They are straight, and lush and green. Palm trees often remind me of Noble Zulu warriors with elaborate head-dresses. I am sure many people see the simple beauty and strength in a palm tree. Not me. I hate them. They remind me all the time that I did not move very far from my home town of Las Vegas. They remind me that I live in a place where the seasons change on the calender, but nowhere else.

XX6 went trick-or-treating in a t-shirt and jeans. I had to keep a water bottle with me because it was so dry. I will be putting Thanksgiving decorations up in an attempt to instill a feeling of a change of season.

Sometimes I have to remind myself why I love Southern California. It is beautiful, anytime you can look around and not have your eyes land on a palm tree.

Hello.....Does anyone still care?

Hello all.

We moved.

My kid stopped screwing his life up and gave his heart to The Lord.

I have been in a fugue state. I am so eager to get back to my life. I am almost there.

I had a panic attack at the dentist, and had to reschedule. No really, I did. Even though I rescheduled, my jaw still hurts.

We are having shepherd pie for dinner to use up some leftover mashed potatoes.

I really think that is enough excitement for one posting. If you think you can handle the excitement, check back soon.