stunningly perfect

1. wearing my goddess outfit
2. reading "New Earth" while waiting for everyone
3. water no ice with lemon
4. having a sip of my Chunky Monkey martini (more than that is just too much!)
5. pictures of all the goddesses
6. seeing all the dressed up women going into the theatre
7. cheering as the show started
8. the shoes
9. the clothes
10. the girls back together again
11. Carrie's new closet
12. Dante (you'll have to watch the movie to understand)
13. giggling with Shirley over Aquafina and Junior Mints
14. Samantha's one-liners
15. a night out with the girls

I read a post from one guy about the premiere, and he said, "I never knew women were so shallow," and I have a comeback for him. "Sir, life is difficult. I am an enlightened being, but in this world of pain and suffering, it is essential to have oases of respite for the soul weary, and "Sex and the City" is one of mine. Is that so wrong? You have your football games, and your hunting. Will you deny us OUR simple pleasures? We don't think your games and killing things is stupid (okay, maybe we DO think they're stupid), but we understand the need for escape and community.

So yes, I am shallow, AND I am deep. Two for the price of one. What could possibly be better than that? And yes, I also happen to like to follow the lives of the movie stars, as well. I bet that just totally takes you over the edge, doesn't it? AND I'm actively concerned about our earth, AND I meditate. Go figure.

As Hillary Swank whispers in Harry Connick Jr.'s ear the secret to what women want: "we have no idea what we want." But I DO know - I want it all. The fluffy movies, the late-night freakouts, the long sunny days at the park reading, rubbing my mother's feet. It's ALL a part of life - you don't need to separate out the good from the bad, deciding what everyone SHOULD be doing, thinking, feeling. That's why they call us "individuals." Separate, unique. So, sometimes shallow, sometimes waist-deep, sometimes over my head, but always interesting. I guarantee you that."

is it summer yet?

We drove back to Fargo through the mist and rain. Me driving, leaning with my nose almost touching the front windshield as I couldn't see through the cars speeding by me on the left and the traffic jam from trucks and water spewing up in my face. I admit it - I don't like driving in those conditions, but I was strangely calm. I have felt so protected lately, even now, as I hear the thunder pounding in the distance, the cracks of lightning scaring Jack our cat. Storms like this used to send me crying to the basement. But not anymore. I realize that most of my fears (mostly all irrational) have been replaced with a deep trust that springs out of my Center. I know my time is pre-ordained - when it's time, it's time - not a minute before or after can I add to that.

My - I didn't mean to be morbid! Maybe it's the weather. Yes, that's it. No, it's not. I am feeling all sorts of new and old things swirling around inside of me these days, and it's memories of my previous years. Of Uncle Sam coming to our house for Christmas, then slipping on the steps on his way out. Of smelling the beautiful lilacs in our backyard, signaling the end of school. Of Granny Meyer combing out her long, wispy white hair that reached past her butt. Of Dad racing me in the parking lot in the middle of a long car trip, and letting me win. Of Dad now walking with careful steps, his knees not working quite so well. We used to play racquetball together - he kicked my butt. Of Mom rocking me back to sleep when I'd had a bad dream in the middle of the night (I thought parents didn't need to sleep - mine never seemed to). Everything is happening at the same time, yet some of these memories include people that have died, yet it doesn't feel like they're dead. Then I think that those I love now, and who are alive, are going to dead someday, and then I realize I'LL be dead someday. And please, I'm not morbid, but this is just what I'm feeling, and it's a deep feeling, and it's a good feeling, this realization that I want to live (keep living) my life as fully as possible, to do everything I want to do, every day, without having any regrets. No regrets, please, because you just don't know what's around that next corner.

It will be all right, I know, it always is, but maybe there's one less person in my life, but I can't tell you who won't be there, so I want to love them all - all of these people in my life. And I do, and I continue to, and I want to tell each of them what they mean to me. So next time I talk to each of them, I think I will. Yes, that's it. I'll say, "Thank you for being a part of my life. I love your smile and the way your eyes crinkle up when you laugh. That makes me happy. I love how you sing the Star Wars theme in the shower, and the way you grab me when we're in the kitchen." These are my children and my husband, but there are more - so many more. I will think of them all, then I will tell them how I love them, and that will be very good.

YAY - it's a party

I KNEW Fargo wouldn't let us down. Our party is on, as planned, for dinner and attendance at the premiere of "Sex and the City." Phew - I needed a reason to live, and luckily I've found it. Am I serious? Not really, but in these intense times, I think it's imperative to plan and do things that bring us profound joy, no matter what they are, or how small they seem. Kari and I made baklava the day before she left, and standing side by side, we created a masterpiece of filo, walnuts, butter and honey.

I gently laid the filo dough in the bottom, then she brushed it with melted butter, I added a thin layer of crushed walnuts rolled in cinnamon, then I laid another layer on top, then she brushed it, and on and on. We forgot to cut it BEFORE it went into the oven (that was counterintuitive to me, so I skipped over those instructions, apparently), but when we started smelling that warm, buttery smell it made both of our hearts glad. When Kari left, she wrote me a letter. Here is what part of it said:

"...you are and will forever be my guts, my insides, my Moo. P.S. August = Baklava Round 2"

Why do I write this? Because this one small gesture, making baklava with my dearest eldest daughter, makes my heart feel whole, it helps me dive, then stay, right in my Center, it pulls me into the present moment where she is present, and I am present, and we are together. And now she's flying off to Cyprus for two months, and I pre-miss her so badly I can't stop crying. We've gone that long without seeing each other before, but we'd always been able TO see each other if we wanted. Now that's not an option.

So another click on life's huge kaleidoscope is heard, and we move on. The old drops out of sight, and the new is seen, just over the horizon, just around that next curve. But we have to keep walking. Melissa did a tune-in for me this morning, and she said that I have never asked to be let out of my "contract," this intense agreement to help as many people as possible in this lifetime, not even when I was totally bowed over with the burdens or difficulties. Others have opted out, and they have BEEN let out of their contracts, but apparently I have not. So I continue on, one step at a time, not knowing where the next step will lead me, but trusting, always trusting, and in the meantime? In the meantime, I've made my summer goals, my summer yummies, and I'm sticking to them, I really am. Here's a short list of my summer goals. Have you made yours yet?

Read "Pride and Prejudice"
Watch the movie
Watch all 6 Star Wars movies with Bill (we've already watched the first 3)
Finish "Dress Gray" (Dad's book of memoirs that I'm writing with him)
Finish the project on my nutritional course
Finish one more nutritional course
Perfect the baklava recipe (does anyone have a really good one to share?)
Compete in at least one 5K race

That's just the short list - I know there's more, but I'll keep adding to it. Something happens in the summer - I make summer goals, not New Year's Revolutions (I mean "resolutions"), have been doing that for some 17 years. Usually they're literary goals, combined with video goals (watch the entire "Lily Langtry" video series, for example, or the whole "I, Claudius" series), but I've added culinary goals (one year it was to make the perfect glass of lemonade), and social goals (volunteer to serve dinner at Churches United for the Homeless). But I've gone onto the main Symphony Board, so I don't want to get too overloaded, but yet this deep yearning to serve the greater masses has been pulling me lately. Part of this next new step, I'm thinking. Drop the small stuff, let people take care of themselves (family issues), and let the bigger stuff come in.

Ah - what's the bigger stuff? Planning parties, silly - like this Friday. Good women, good food, good movie, good times... see you there.

No "Sex" on Friday?

Say it isn't so! I looked online, and can't find the movie information for the premiere of "Sex and the City" for Fargo. Could it be possible that we aren't getting it? What kind of people ARE we, if we don't carry the premiere of "Sex" but DO carry the premiere of Indiana Jones? People people people... it almost makes me want to move somewhere else, somewhere that supports women's drives for shopping and fellowship, the desire to talk about their feelings openly and discuss things most others wouldn't dare. Sigh. It's a mystery, and one that I'll keep investigating because I don't want to give up our goddess ladies night out this Friday - I NEED this, doggone it.

My back is a little better, but gets stiff if I sit for too long. Dr. Deb says walking aggravates it, but it seems to make it feel better. When I'm walking I can actually stand upright. Speaking of standing upright, I watched "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly" last night. I'd read the book several years ago, and was excited when I heard they'd made it into a movie. Oh my. That's all I can say. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to only be able to move your left eyelid. To have your brain and memory intact, but not be able to talk, or swallow, or eat, or hug anyone, or walk, or... fill in the blank. There are a lot of blanks to fill in. My recommendation is to read the book first, then watch the movie. I love Netflix! As many movies as you want, and NO late fees (but THANK YOU Take 2 Video for wiping out my $50 in late fees!).

I've already made the couscous salad with tons of veggies (do you hate people who use the term "veggies?"), and am going downstairs to cut up the rest for the roasted vegetables I'm making to go with the grilled lamb chops (we had them last night, but Bill loved them so much, we're having them again tonight - too much of a good thing is delicious). Roasted vegetables? They're easy. Set the oven to 425, cut up as many kinds of vegetables at you want, spread them out on a lipped cookie sheet, spread olive oil over them, then sprinkle with salt and pepper (I also use dried up thyme). Mix them all up so the vegetables get covered with the oil, then bake them for 40 minutes, stirring them so they won't get burned. Some WILL get burned around the edges, no matter what you do, but for the most part, they'll come out fragrant, soft, and oh so yummy. I use the leftovers the next day for kick butt burritos. Do I sound hungry? Hmmm, I guess I am. Until tomorrow, happy dreams (nobody I know is sleeping much these days - how about you?).

don't step on a crack...

..but this was SO worth it!!!

or you'll break your mother's back. Oops - too late, kids! How many steps past the breaking point did I walk? About three, I'm thinking, but it's STILL okay, because I made those choices consciously and fully awake, knowing the toll they would take on my body. Why, then, you ask, would I still willingly do those things that would be too much for me to handle? Because they involved activities that were timely (going to Bismarck with Kari to see Grammy and Bapa for maybe the last time), the Marathon (once a year here in Fargo), hostessing the whole Krohn family (again, once a year for the marathon - fun times!). Is it all good? Yes. Was it too much? Yes. But it's still okay.

My back has never hurt so much as it did yesterday. I could not walk. My right leg was numb, and shooting pains kept, well, shooting down both of my legs. I rested as much as possible, heating padded it, watched 101 Greatest Hollywood Secrets (it took 4 hours, but let me tell you, it was WELL worth it - Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction at the Super Bowl was number 1, in case you were wondering).

Why even blog about this? Because I think there's a fine line between just doing things because you don't think about it, or think you HAVE to, or because they're on your list, and doing them because you realize that while doing them all may be TOO much, you still choose to do them, so you do, then you work with the consequences, which for me include a lot of peppermint tea and rest. And that's okay, isn't it? We've got the whole weekend stretching before us, my only goal being to fill the containers on the front porch with beautiful flowers. That's a lofty goal, but achievable, I think. If not, that can wait, because the whole summer, while already filled with events and activities, still stretches gloriously in front of us, just waiting for the sun and the hammock and the fresh sun tea. Ah... I'm going to take a nap.

the portal

So here you are, at the gate, and it's locked, closed up tight. You can't get through. What do you do? Start screaming, rant, rave, get restless, frustrated, pound your fists on it, close your eyes, trying to break it down so you can get through? Good luck - it doesn't give, doesn't open to brute force. Try harder! No - that doesn't work. Pant pant pant. Push again - push your way through - it's what we've been doing for thousands of years, down on the lower energy levels - conquer a few cities, kill a few villagers, torture a few non-believers - MAKE it happen, because YOU know what's best, and YOU can get it done, because YOU have control over your life and the events. Right?

Wrong - not anymore, anyway. Life has altered mysteriously, to present us with these same portals, with the same locks, but we can't break through with our human ways anymore - spiritual enlightenment and understanding is what is required. We have to find the KEY to understanding our present situation, and what is being presented for integration and understanding before we can pass through to the next level of "lessons" in the form of situations and events and people. If we don't get this stage, how can we get the next, more advanced, complicated stage? We can't. It's like cheating in algebra, then being totally lost in trigonometry. Building blocks, steps that we take one at a time that lead us ever-upward and onward.

So what do we do when we're stuck at the portal and can't get through? Realize you're at a place of great opportunity and growth. Stop ranting and raving against the door - there's no one being mean to you, there's no conspiracy, this is all FOR you and for your Highest Good. Take a few deep breaths, smile, then start looking around for your key. Ask yourself some questions, "What could the possible lessons be here? What actions could I take that would be fresh and new from the old responses I usually make? How could this possibly be leading me into something more expansive?" Then listen, wait, expect and watch for the answers. They will come - I promise you. They may come in a feeling of "aha" or in the form of a well-placed e-mail from a friend, or a book excerpt, or news story, or billboard, or even that small still voice you hear when the rest of your world is quiet (like Kate the Angel in my first book, "Pink Stars and Angel Wings" - she tells Kari she's the voice she hears when the rest of her world is quiet). You never know how the Universe will answer you, but it will, because everyone and everything wants to help you in your life.

But you're not in this alone, nor can you do it alone - you can't FORCE your way through to higher understanding just because you don't want to be where you are. If you're where you are right now, it's because you're SUPPOSED to be there - there are no mistakes or coincidences. This current situation is here to teach you something - are you willing to learn a new way? You're not such an old dog, you know - there ARE lots of new tricks to be learned, and they'll make your life magical. I promise.

Can you find your key?

P.S. Refer to the previous blog entry and gate picture - maybe Mr. McCrazy (or PCP Guy as we now call him) thought HE could just bust HIS way through HIS portal - good luck, Mr. McCrazy.

Mr. McCrazy

Here's our gate. He ripped it up out of the concrete, ripped the nails out of the corner post. Steve leaned it against the opening so the dogs couldn't get out. He also ripped the bark totally off one whole side of our tree - was he going to make a fire? It's hard to say. It's crazy - this man with the pure black eyes and shaved head, high on PCP (the police think), pinpointing our specific fence and backyard to spend some 3AM time in. What would be the reason, if you don't believe in coincidences? I don't know - I'll have to think about it.

I'm still sore, can't sit on the floor with my legs straight out in front of me - my right sciatica nerve sends rippling pain down my leg, but... I did it! Could I ever do the 60 mile, 3 day walk with Kim in September? Honestly, I don't think so at this point, but I'm willing to train for another month and see how it's looking. I want it to be a fun goal, not a crazy one - I've dealt with enough craziness for quite a while now, I suppose.

We're off to Bismarck for a quick overnight so Kari can see Grammy and Bapa before she heads off to Cyprus. I had a dream last night that 3 of my older sisters and I were in a car that started sinking into the water. Everyone froze in terror, but I opened the window in time to let the water in so we could all swim to safety. Now THAT one isn't too hard to figure out. Talk about crazy...

I DID IT

The Wild Women at the finish line (don't we look fresh?)


Rachel, Kari, Kia and Danika at the finish line (aren't they beautiful?)


I was sick with the respiratory flu for two weeks, then traveled for a week, then my back went out, then I traveled to Bismarck, then my back gave out yesterday morning, but I had a thought on today's half marathon. This was something I wanted to do for myself. I wanted to train for my body, I wanted to complete it as one of my lifetime goals, yet here I was, hardly able to bend over, hardly able to move, much less walk 13.1 miles. But Kim and Becky were depending on me, so I gave myself permission to start and see how far I could go.

Well, it really started last night at 2:30AM. The dogs were barking frantically, so Jeff, Kari's boyfriend Brian's brother (did you get that?) went outside to put his dog in the van. At 3:30AM there was a knock on the front door. Steve went downstairs and opened it (note to self: NEVER OPEN THE DOOR AT 3:30AM unless you see a police car in your driveway). There stood a man with a shaved head, wild eyes, and no shoes, talking to one our green lawn chairs that we keep in our backyard. He started to push his way into our house, but Steve firmly shut the door in his face, locked it, then called 911. We found out that he had broken down our gate, and had been in our backyard for supposedly that whole hour. His worn tennis shoes were right by our trampoline. I think the spooky thing about it was thinking "what if he'd had a knife or gun? What if he had been able to push his way into our house? What if there had been others with him?" But he didn't, he couldn't, and there wasn't, so all is well. The police found him down the street by the bike path, sitting in our chair, talking to it. He was a familiar transient that had never been in this part of town before. I'm not scared of that, but it does make me aware (again) that not everyone is normal (well, you know what I mean), and that we need to remain aware, at least, not be stupid.

So I was awake from 2:30 on, meaning I had a grand total of 3 1/2 hours of sleep (actually, I haven't had much sleep since Kari's been home - it's just too darned much fun, and there's just too much to do!). But again I said, "I'm going to start, and see how I do."

My back was stiff, and Kim and Becky wanted to run because everyone else was. I waved them on and told them I'd see them at the finish line. They stayed with me for about 10 miles, then I urged them to just go. They're a couple of animals. Our matching t-shirts said, "Wild Women Walking" and that was GREAT for a million cheers and comments from the crowds. Kim was a little upset that I put our names on the back. "How wild are you, Susie?" someone would yell. Hah - it was great. I got to the 6 mile mark, down by our house, but decided to press on to the Y. I passed that, then thought "Hey, I'm over halfway, I can do this." A team of two women and a man in green were walking with us. I asked one woman the story behind the green t-shirts. "My 14 year old son died last December, and my sister flew out from CA, my brother from West Virginia." I put my arm around her and just walked for a block or so. I cried. Kim looked at me, turned around and pointed at the woman and said, "There's love all around you. Just look." I cried for another 1/2 mile or so.

At the two mile marker, we saw the two Kenyan men coming BACK from the other 24.2 miles. Okay, granted they started like 10 minutes before us, but it's still an amazing feat (oops - I typed "feet" which I guess makes just as much sense). I looked over at them, and they weren't even IN their bodies - they were just flying, zoned. It was kind of eery, but really cool to witness. There was an older woman wearing a flower wreath. I waved and called her a goddess. The tall transvestite wasn't there this year, but maybe he/she was over at the 5K where he/she was last year. I kind of miss her/him - she made it really festive, with the tight dress and heels. Around mile 11, I didn't know if I could continue. My back kept spasming, my left foot really hurt, and my stomach was cramping. I'd forgotten to pack my protein bar, but kept guzzling water every chance I could.

Then I had a thought: my body's in such dire straits because I've been taking care of everyone else, and this is the ONE thing that I want to do for myself. So I had a talk with my body - "do you really want to do this?"

"Only if it's important to you."
"Can you suck it up for 2.1 more miles?"
"Maybe."
"Will you do it for me? For us?"
"I'll try."

So I put on my On-the-Go Playlist 1, and vowed to keep going until it got to the end. That helped. "Venus" came on, followed by "I'm Too Sexy" followed by "Hips Don't Lie" followed by "Pirates Who Don't Do Anything" (don't bother to download my playlist - I'm a geeky nerd). Then came "Thriller" and I began chanting "Suck it up" with every step I took, then changed it to "we can do it" (me and my body), then "I am healthy I am strong I am loved." Then came "And She Was" and "Respect" and then "One Week." I was rounding the last corner and I called Mom and Dad to share the moment with them.

"You're what? You're calling during the marathon? I thought you weren't going to do it," Mom said.

"I decided to suck it up and finish it, Mom - I love you. I'm doing this for you and Dad," I said.

I started crying again - I'm going to make it, I really am.

I started up University and saw the crowds gathered - "Go, wild woman - you're almost there!" "We're so proud of you!" "You did it!" I started walking faster. I walked into the parking lot at the Dome and headed north to the opening. I waved at everyone, showing my t-shirt and bowing, then heard the announcer saying, "Here comes Wild Woman" and I waved and bowed again. There was Chitra, and Sandy, Jackson and Mackenzie. That was the most fun - seeing everyone (besides all the free stuff - I won't lie). There was Jane Alexander in the booth, screaming my name and waving frantically. I screamed back (would you doubt it?). I made it! Everyone else made it, as well. We got our medals, water, banana and pizza, then went outside to wait for Kari to come in from her marathon relay she ran with her cousin Rachel. She was running so fast - she's an amazing athlete.

My broken right toe is throbbing, my left leg keeps cramping up, but I feel really good - not too tired. I went on to "Map my run" and found out I'd burned over 1000 calories - I could get used to this! So ate a small Special K bar to celebrate. A fabulous day of 12 dear friends and family, snicker doodles and barbecued chicken and potato salad. We had a hot tub, watched "Return of the Jedi" and are now checking out movies for tonight.

I did it, everyone - after all the feelings of not being able to do what I want to do, I did this for myself, and I'm really proud of myself. And I'm proud of Kari, and Brian, and Mary and Tim and Heather and Jeff and Brian and Christina. And well, just everyone who participated in the Fargo Marathon. WE ROCK!!!!!

love

I love this man

She told me she thinks all relationships are doomed from the start. Why? I ask her. Because women are complex, and expect men to provide all of their needs, and men only have 4 needs. What? I ask her. Sex, food, sleep, and to acquire things. But I think you can make it, I told her. Look at Steve and me. We've overcome seemingly impossible odds to be even more in love and committed than ever. Yeah, but look at ______. Out of respect I won't print the name, but it's someone she knows well. I tell her what I know at this time: it's almost impossible to make any relationship work if one or both of the people have hurts carried over from their childhood. If they get professional help, or are conscious of their "issues" then they can be awake and aware and work actively to heal and move through the blockades set before them.

If they are unwilling, or seemingly unable, to do the hard work that growing up requires, then they stay stuck back there at age 10, or 5, or whenever the main trauma was. Maybe your dad told you you were a good-for-nothing, or your mom said you looked slutty in that short skirt, or your teacher said you weren't college material. Are you going to keep those stings and hurts locked inside of you, allowing them to color absolutely every other step of your life, or are you willing to say that yes, these things happened, and yes, they hurt, and yes, they sucked, but I'm worth fighting for, and my life is precious, and I don't want to waste one more moment wallowing in self-pity or victim or blaming others for everything that's wrong in my life.

When you take that first step to becoming a whole person, you are more able to be in relationship with someone else. What does it take? Surrender, most of all. Giving up control (yeah, I know - my "issue"), being willing to compromise and give up some things for the good of someone else, or at least being willing to not always have your way. Being willing to listen, and to care about someone else's well being. Being able to just hold someone while they cry without trying to make it better. Making the conscious decision to stay, even if you don't really like that person right now, because you choose to stay. These are the things of which a "good" relationship are made, and it doesn't have to be doomed, Kari, it really doesn't. Are relationships difficult? Definitely yes, even in the best of them. Are relationships worth it? In this big world of crashing waves and cataclysmic storms, it's comforting to have someone else on board your ship, sharing the tumult, the fear of the unknown, the walking into the dark with no clue of what's on the other side. But it's all okay, because you know that person's going to be there with you, no matter what. Because you've chosen each other, you've chosen to share your life, and because you love. Always because you love. That's what I know.

All I See is a Part of Me

Mom is having trouble with somebody in her life. This somebody isn't there for her, doesn't visit, doesn't phone, doesn't seem to even care. And that hurts Mom. She wonders what SHE'S done to deserve that kind of treatment, and she asked me what I thought. So I told her.

When we're born, we're pointed directly toward our parents. They're holding mirrors up to reflect ourselves back. They have the power to tell us if we're beautiful, smart, talented, kind, or selfish, ugly, fat, and stupid. So we're molded and shaped by what we see from them when we're small. But at some point, maybe around age 21 or so, we start to turn ourselves around to face the rest of the world. Then we ask the rest of the WORLD to reflect us back to us. They (our friends, neighbors, significant other, boss) tell us by their actions, what they think of us. They may tell us we're bitchy, generous, too tall, or whatever, and so now we've got a much broader base from which to decide how to view ourselves from the different facets.

We're now responsible for our lives - WE decide how we're going to act, WE decide what we believe about ourselves and our world, WE decide what to say (or not say). There's no big authority out there shining their mirror back at us, based on what THEY believe and how THEY were raised. True - I think we ALL mirror and shadow each other, but there's something different about a complete stranger flipping us off in traffic than if our own parents were to do that. With a stranger, it's most likely about THEM, and we can see that, but when it's someone who's supposed to love you? Well, that must mean I'm a horrible person, and they don't love me. We can then carry that pain for the rest of our lives, never moving that outside authority inside, empowering ourselves in all that we do, asking ourselves, "What do I think?" first, not "what would THEY think?"

So I told Mom she's off the hook, so far as I can see. This person is now almost 60. "Isn't that time?" I asked Mom, and she burst out laughing. I hope she feels better. I hope she realizes what a mom she was in MY eyes. I told her what I felt like with her raising me.

"I thought I was the smartest, most beautiful, powerful, creative woman ever born. I believe I can do anything I set my mind to. I believe I always make the best decision for myself in the end. I believe I'm a wonderful parent, wife, daughter, sister and friend. I believe I'm generous and loving and kind. How could I believe all of those things about myself if you didn't mirror that for me, and if you didn't believe that about yourself?"

No, Mom, you did the best you can. That's all ANY of us can ever do. And if someone chooses to turn their back on you, or treat you disrespectfully, that's about THEM, because you deserve the utmost respect and consideration. You have given almost 30 years of your life raising us, and almost 60 as a mother, caring about us. ALL of us. So whatever you see, I urge you to see the beautiful huge mirror I'm reflecting back to you, because it is the absolute highest reflection of who you are, and if you look closely into MY mirror I hold for you, you will see yourself as you truly are - a luminous golden being of light. I love you eternally, Mom - know that.

Sex and the City

It's almost here - Friday, May 30th (but who's counting?). I'm planning a dinner and premiere party, if I can find the time. I love S and the C - first got hooked when we were in Boston before Kari's sophomore year of high school. The hotel we stayed in showed it every night at 10PM. I used to think it was STUPID (before I'd actually seen it) - beneath me, inferior, silly and shallow. And it IS, and I love it!!! It is the exact polar opposite of anything in my life, from the obsessing about what you're going to wear for 2 hours, to buying $40,000 worth of shoes (okay, I can understand that, but not emulate that), to having sex with complete strangers (why do all men love Samantha so much? I guess I just answered my own question).

I need something to look forward to - something shallow, and girly, and silly, and totally frivolous. In these days of intensity and change and transformation and caretaking and driving, I feel tired, shelled out, need sleep. So what to do? Find something to look forward to, something to rejoice about, then put your energy into it. Life IS fabulous, you just need to find the fabulousity (is that even a word? Well, it is now), and then go for it. So that's what I'm doing - going for it. With Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda - my sisters, my friends. Now to gather the goddesses and celebrate Manolo Blahniks and Cosmopolitans together. Aw - my heart is happy just thinking about it all.

Bear is back

He first started coming to me 15 years ago, tracking me, not letting me get away. He always found me, crashed through doors, hurt my children, until finally, as I crawled to the highest point in a room, and Bear snarled and lunged toward me, I said, "Enough!" and let him do what he wanted to with me - I was tired of running. He ripped my sides as he pulled me toward him, then... hugged me. We melded and melted into one. I came to realize that Bear symbolized my separation from my instinctual part, and vowed to be truer to myself. Bear went away.

Saturday night he came and started chasing me again - a huge grizzly bear with frosted white fur on top of the golden. I could see him on the road, far away, but smelling our scent, was able to find us no matter where we went. But this time, I was in charge of a whole group of people and animals - I herded them frantically, trying to keep them safe. There was Mom and Dad, Steve, Kari, Erik, Jordan, Bill, Rusty and Spikey. It was too much - they kept wandering off. Then I remembered I might be safe in a house, not remembering that Bear eventually just crashes through any "house" I try to hide in. We found a house, and we went inside. Then I remembered thinking that maybe I should face Bear. But not tonight. Not today. I'm sure Bear will come back if I continue to stretch outside myself, worrying about others, taking care of everyone else besides myself. My back miraculously healed by itself, but there's an imbalance. There really is. And Bear knows. And so he comes to me. I'm not surprised. A little scared and upset, but not surprised. I'll keep you posted.

You gotta know when to hold 'em...

Winning Big!!!

Know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away, know when to run. Dad didn't go to Colorado because Mom's congestive heart failure is back, along with pneumonia. I went to Bismarck alone, without my husband or kids. It sort of made me sad, not being with them, traveling so much, but I knew I had to be in Bismarck. Dad met me at the door with a blue duffle. "Let's go!" he said cheerily. I asked why he needed a duffle to go to the casino for dinner. He said we were staying overnight. I understand. 24/7 can get a little intense, and Verena was there to help with Mom. Sure! I said, after traveling 200 miles, after 800 miles LAST weekend. What's another 150 miles among family? We headed south out of Mandan, took the straight road that took us 30 miles out of the way, but I'd never been that far south in that part of western North Dakota. This area is by far the most beautiful part of North Dakota. Let me rephrase that - it is far more beautiful than Fargo, even though I LOVE Fargo - you gotta admit - it's flat.

We talked the whole way down - about transmitters, and starting up the company, about employees, and earning money as a child. He loves the color of the grasses (I do, too). We got to the casino, but they were booked for the night. What the heck - we went into dinner. There was too much good stuff to choose from, so we split exactly one whole dinner - crab cakes, wild rice soup, filet mignon and lobster, even one scoop of ice cream with chocolate sauce. "Let's have a contest," Dad says when we're done. "We'll each bet $100 and see who ends up with the most." "That's too much," I said, "how about $50 each?" We got 20 5's, split them, and headed to blackjack. Dad was brilliant - holding on 15 and watching the dealer break. He won $20, I lost $10, but kept $2.50, so lost $7.50. Dad walked away with $20, betting $15 - net gain? $5 - Dad's ahead. But aha - the quarter slots - I spent $15, and won $18.75 - net gain? Uhm, $1.25. Dad bet $5 and lost it all. He was still excited about winning the $20, so we decided to just stop right there and cash out. We walked away with a total of $95.75, but I'm thinking Dad won the bet, edging me out by 25 cents or so. We headed back to Bismarck, taking the scenic route along the river, just in time to watch the sunset over the hills, casting that golden light on everything, making the tree shadows long and dark. That's my favorite time of day.

"What should we do now?" he asked. "Let's go to a movie," I said, heading to the north part of Bismarck. We saw "Bucket List" - my, what a movie to see when Mom's sick, and think about what would be on my own bucket list, if I were to make one. I'll have to think of that a little bit more. The show got out at 11:30. Now remember - my bedtime is 9PM, so phew - that was late. But I have to be honest, that was the most I've gotten to talk to Dad in probably 5 years, and the most animated and chatty I've seen him in a while. No worries, no concerns, no responsibilities, if even for a few hours. I'm so glad I was here, I'm glad I was the one that got to go with him, I'm glad he got to get away, if only for a few hours.

And Mom and Verena? They had my pheasant orzo salad with sauteed onions, garlic, carrots and zucchini, and watched a movie until midnight - they didn't suffer. And Dad? Well, we're all taking naps, so I'd say the evening was a huge success all around.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, EVERYONE. Happy happy happy. Who would've thought I'd be with Mom for one more Mother's Day? Not me. Will she be here NEXT Mother's Day? Probably not, but it's okay - we had this year, we had this time, and it was precious to me.

Love

People say they love a lot of things. I love dark chocolate, warm gingersnaps, reading a good book, snuggling up with Steve to watch Discovery, brisk walks, Jack's furry stomach. But really, I love people. More specifically, but not exclusively, I love my kids. Just look at Billy Boy - isn't he fabulous? We took this picture yesterday morning for a Mother's Day present he was making at school. He is my love, he is.

I'd wanted kids since I was about 9. Mom used to tell me, "You should wait to have kids," but I didn't listen too closely, and started at age 25. I used to tell my kids that if somebody came up to me and said, "You can keep everything in your life, or you can give it all up and keep your kids," that I would give them the keys to my car and house, strip down naked and walk away holding their hands. "Ew," they said, "That's really weird and gross." It's sort of Francis of Assisi-like, don't you think? But if I ever weighed the love for my children against the love of anything else (even that fabulous green jacket I'm wearing at Kari's graduation), nothing even comes close.

When I think about love, it's like something warm hits the center of my heart and flows out quickly and smoothly over the rest of my body, filling in around all of my muscles and organs until it's no longer just me, but me-with-love, a golden being. It gives me that warm look in my eyes and that soft smile, it makes me think that this life really IS a good thing, even though others may try to tell me different. It gives me strength to keep going on, knowing my kids are here on this Earth with me.

My back has totally gone out, and it's hard to even stand upright. We leave for Bismarck in a couple of hours. Steve held me while I cried this morning, frustrated that life just keeps marching on, and sometimes it's hard for me to keep up. He stroked my hair and said sweetly, "Honey, you're going to lose your mom, but she'll go knowing she outlived her kids, and that's every parent's wish." And I know he's right - there's comfort in that, but if I feel this all-consuming love for my kids, doesn't she feel the same? Isn't that what's keeping her alive? Love? Love for and from Dad, love for and from all of us daughters? Love for and from all of her friends, and all of the people whose lives she's touched in some way? How do we make that transition from tangible to intangible? Maybe that's why my back gave out - it's too much of a burden to carry right now, this figuring out burden. I'm a figure-it-out kind of gal, I'm the first to admit it, but this has got me stumped. If we DON'T try to figure stuff out beforehand, will we be able to handle it (I first typed "handel" which is sort of funny) when it comes into our lives? Eckhart Tolle would say that dealing with it WHEN it comes is the ONLY way to deal with life. You simply can't anticipate anything before it happens, because, well, anything can happen.

So I slouch in my black leather swivel chair, looking at the pictures I downloaded from my camera, the pictures from Kari's graduation. Can you see everybody smiling? Everyone with their arms around each other? Can you feel the arc of love and connection between us all, this big raucous family of Ekbergs and Rishers and Aanestads? I can. It's called love. So love, and the knowledge of love, will keep me going today, and most likely, tomorrow, and the next day, no matter who comes into, or leaves my life. Because once you have love, you always have love. That's what I believe.

couldn't happen in a billion years

Mags and I and Tommy went to Taste of India yesterday (yum) and sat at a table next to a sweet-looking older couple. Toward the end of lunch the woman turned to me and asked if I lived in Bismarck, as she had overheard us talking about it. I told her I was FROM Bismarck, but that I visited often as my parents lived there. She was a chemistry professor at the U of Mary, and knew my childhood friend Steph, and had even read about Brian in "Scientific News." Small world, huh?

We bonded so much that at the end of lunch she said, "My name's Christina, and this is my husband Panjip (sp)." I looked at her, cocked my head, did some fast figuring in my head and said, "Are you selling you house up on Saddleback Pass?" Her jaw dropped. Now, if you've never seen someone's jaw drop, it goes something like this: get a blank stare, open your mouth, then be unable to close your mouth. She just stared at me. "You called me two weeks ago because I'd sent you an e-mail about your house. I was the one that was going to come look at it tomorrow." Jaw drop, followed by LOUD laughter from both of them. "What are the chances... it's impossible... how could it be."

Mags just laughed. "Are you even surprised?" I asked Mags. "Of course not, Susie," she answered smoothly. So I looked on houses.com and found a beautiful house in north Bismarck (don't worry - I don't think we're moving there, just exploring options), and e-mailed the owner. She phoned to talk and see if I wanted to come look at it. I took her name (Christina) and phone number and said I'd call. Now Christina sits next to me at the Indian restaurant in Fargo, here on vacation with her husband just to eat good food, and we find each other, out of all the restaurants, times and days. AND I figure out it was the same Christina. So odd. So odd. I sit here, yet again, not being able to figure out the WHYS of the incident, but firmly convinced there is a bigger reason behind everything - this stuff can't just happen, can it? I don't think so.

Mom's in the hospital again, after being in for two weeks and released for a few days. She developed a cough while there, and had trouble breathing. Peggy's there now, and I go after I speak at Madison all day today for their author's day. She said yesterday they think it's congestive heart failure (again). I don't have a good feeling about all of this, but it's such a hard thing. I wish for her to die fast, at home, not slowly at home, or in the hospital at all. I don't know how Dad's going to step up even more for what's increasingly required of him, so I try to arrange my schedule to stay down there as much as possible these next weeks and months. There's still this strange part of me that doesn't think she'll ever die. How can that be? When faced with Captain Obvious? I know, I know, the river in Egypt - de Nile. Whatever. Make all sorts of jokes but the fact is I'm having trouble with the practical knowledge that my mom isn't going to be on this earthly plane that much longer, and I haven't lost a mother in this lifetime, so I don't know what it will be like. My favorite thing is to call her and say, "Hi Mommy," really cheery, when she answers. I won't be able to do that anymore. How selfish of me just to want to be able to call her and hear her voice. Could she ever get healthy and live forever? Couldn't happen in a billion years... so I sit with the peace that this world isn't the whole enchilada, it's probably only the cheese on top, and that love goes on, and Mom and I are always together, because there's love. I know she's with me, even now as I'm typing, because when you strip everything down to the basics, there's only One, and in that place, we're all always together. This I now for sure.

All about Kari

I could talk forever on my eldest daughter, Kari Ruth, but I won't. She finished her college career summa cum laud, departmental honors, and completing the honors program. She will spend 2 months in Cyprus this summer before resuming her education at Luther Seminary, with a full scholarship. I would be totally lying if I didn't tell you how proud of her I am.

Who is Kari? She was born after 20 hours of back labor, and was in distress, with the cord wrapped around her neck. She was blue, and unresponsive, but when she came to, she squinted her eyes, hard, and just looked around. She was stunningly beautiful, and I'm not just saying that. She was. I wouldn't let anyone near her for several days, content just to sit with her up in my dark bedroom and stare at her. Today they'd probably call that post-partum depression, but to me it was just unbelievably precious. I dressed her in a watermelon romper with a watermelon hat. At 11 months she loved to wear (only) a shirt, her diapers, and some beads. When I pulled her shirt over her head, I'd sing, "Duh duh duh duh..." like when the snake comes out of the basket. She'd giggle. She hardly ever cried, hardly ever fussed, and I see that in her to this day - she's the one that tries to make the peace, coming out of a horrible early home life with her dad and I, trying to calm him down, trying to comfort me. That was crappy, it was, but I left when she was only 4 1/2, so at least that's something. Look at her smiling - isn't she beautiful? She has more moxie in her little finger, at age 22, than I did at age 40. What do I want to say? I want to tell you that I was depressed for two years after she left for college. She is my sun, and that sounds silly as I type it, but it's the truth. She balances me, complements the energies in this house, creates gentleness and caring for Bill. She balances her younger brother Erik, who adores her.

I remember when she taught herself how to make oatmeal cookies. She locked us out of the kitchen, and I could hear banging as she looked for the pans, but she never asked for help. 1/2 hour later she came out, tears on her face. The "cookies" were a flat mass on the sheet. "I don't know what I did wrong," she said. "Well," I asked, "did you put in all the ingredients?" We went through the list one by one until we got to the oatmeal. "Did you put in the oatmeal?" I asked. "Oatmeal?" she said, "What oatmeal?" So without a word we scraped the cookies into the garbage and started again. Today she has to post a sign on her cookies, warning us that our limit is "ONE COOKIE EACH" - they are so good. She never gives up. When she wants something, she does it.

But that same passion concerns me, as she works herself to the point of exhaustion. To be fair, I think she's better about it (I keep warning her not to do what I used to do, but that's hard to MAKE somebody change), but that drive - she's already changing the world. She went to a psychic at their senior party, and she said it was just like talking to me. I love that she said that. The psychic told her that she was clairvoyant, and had a direct connection to God. She urged her to "preach, sister," and we both smiled, knowing she was going to seminary to become just that - a preacher. I love my daughter, even though we disagree on some things, mainly politics, but I could really care less about that - we still talk and care about what the other thinks. As long as there's respect. I'm glad she's staying in Minneapolis - I'd miss her too much if she went too far, and I don't want to be that kind of mother, but maybe I am - I love my children, but Kari? If you don't know her, well, you just should - that's all.

You remember me, but who am I? A short story

While this trip was memorable on so many levels, I will spread out the stories over the next few days. I start with the one called, "You remember me, but who am I?" because it so amazing to me how this kept happening the whole 4 days we were gone.

Part One: We checked into the hotel with the water park, and I gave my driver's license to the attendee to get a locker. Thinking we would come back later, I kept the key. We didn't come back, and headed to the Mall of America.

Part Two: Bill and I and Kari went to look at hermit crabs (they're so friendly at the kiosk on the west side). We wanted to go on rides first, so the young man told us he'd wait as long as possible (it was almost closing time) in case we wanted to come back. Amazingly, he WAS still open. As we walked toward him, the young Spanish man at the hair extension kiosk NEXT to him said, "Hello, lovely lady - I can't believe you've come back!" "How in the world did he remember me?" I asked Hermit Crab boy. "It's because I'm 7 feet tall, isn't it?" "No - that's not it," Hermit Crab boy said.

Part Three: We then went to H&M to buy Kari some clothes for her Cyprus trip. Jamar waited on us. I handed him my Master Card that read "Photo ID required" in the signature line, and he asked to see my ID. My driver's license! I explained about the water park, then showed him my Macy's card (signed), my business card (with my picture on it), my blank checks, and all of my family photos. Jamar let me charge anyway. I promised to get my license back.

Part Four: We went back to the hotel. I went to get my driver's license that they'd stored in a giant notebook. I saw me, and pointed at my picture. "That's not you," he said, looking at me suspiciously. "Uhm, I was a lot fatter in that picture, but yes, it's me," I said patiently. "That's not you," he said, and kept flipping through the book. I waited until he got to the end, and there were no more cards. He flipped back to the page with my license on it, and quietly took it out, mumbling something that sounded like, "Well, it sure doesn't LOOK like you." I put it in my jean's pocket.

The next morning I put on my cute green shorts and we headed back to the mall. We went BACK to H&M to buy clothes for Erik and Bill, and Jamar was there! When he saw us, he said "Hello - you're back!" "How did you remember us?" I asked. "It's not hard to remember you," he replied. "Because I'm like 7 feet tall?" I laughed. "No - that's not it," he said. "I brought my license," I said proudly. "That's all right," he said, "I trust you." I pulled out my wallet, then remembered ... my license was in my jeans back at the hotel. Unbelievable! Another day without any ID? Seriously...

Part Five: Nobody checked my ID for the rest of our mall visit. Oh, except the girl at Legos - but I pulled out all my usual stuff and she relented. We left for the dentist (100 mile trip), but decided to return to the mall to meet Kari and Erik for dinner and a haircut (sort of like dinner and a movie, but with more hair involved).

Part Six: Bill and I are walking through the Nickelodeon Universe, and a woman yells at me. "Madam, were you here early this morning?" "Yes, I was, then we left, and now we're back," I explained. "We were standing in line right after you, getting tickets, and there was an extra one there - was it yours? We've been looking for you all day to give it back." I explained that we had our ticket, then asked her how she possibly remembered me. "It wasn't hard," she explained. "Is it because I'm like 7 feet tall?" I asked. "No, that's not it," she explained, but didn't elaborate.

I'm serious. Three people all said the same thing. "No, that's not it." One person insisted I wasn't who I said I was, given the evidence of a picture. Twice I "forgot" to take my ID with me, so I couldn't PROVE who I was. I'm not quite sure what all of this means, but I'm quite sure it means something, so I'll take some time to figure it out. Or not.

Tomorrow? All about Kari.

crossing the chasm

I got a YouTube video sent to me yesterday, of a young woman walking on a tightrope across a very difficult chasm. My first thought was amazement that she could be 3,000 above the Yosemite Valley bottom, with nothing beneath her, and she didn't seem afraid. My second thought was wondering if she'd make it on the first try. My third thought was why would she want to do it in the first place, and my third thought was acknowledging all of those friends and supporters who were with her.

So she starts out, attached with a safety line to the tightrope. She falls, grabs the line, then starts again. She learns a little something, adjusts, then goes a little further till she loses her balance and has to hug the line, then start again. She adjusts again, goes further, and further, until this time, she's just a few feet from her goal. You can feel her get excited and start to concentrate on the end rather than the present moment, of where her feet are right now, and she falls, just feet short of her goal. NOW you can hear her boyfriend (or friend) talking encouragingly to her the whole time - "You're doing great, you're doing fine, just keep going, go slow, you OWN this, be patient - this is yours" - on and on the whole time, keeping her focused and present. She makes it.

I think what inspired me so much about the whole video is how closely it parallels how most of us are feeling at this present time. We are crossing over into something new, and crossing OVER seemingly empty space, 3,000 above the ground. It feels dangerous, precarious, scary, and we think we may not make it. But then we realize we have a safety line, we're trained professionals (we've done this before), and even if we fall, we get to keep trying until we make it. Most of all, we've got that gentle, encouraging voice always playing in our heads to keep us on task - "pay attention, go slowly, you can do it, keep going, you OWN this." We know we're not alone - we know we have to do this, and that we WILL be successful. It's scary as h**l but we're here, and we're doing this thing, no turning back, and we won't stop until we've done it.

When Libby finally makes it across, she lays back on the rock and just laughs. What does it mean? What was it all for? Well, she wanted to do it, she knew she could it, and she didn't give up until she'd made it. Just like all of us. Here's the link to the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jA3A5RQB1Lk

We head down to the Cities for Kari's graduation and dental appointments (yay!), so probably won't be posting until Tuesday evening. Have a great weekend and remember: YOU OWN THIS.

Happy May Day

We're going to make May baskets when Bill gets home. We're going to get dixie cups and punch holes in them, run pipe cleaners through them to make the handle, then fill them with some candy. The elderly couple on the end of the block are getting them, along with several neighbors with kids Bill's age. We started with just 2 houses, but it's now grown to over 10. We both love May Day, but Bill, especially. He loves making up the baskets, then gifting them to everyone - he's just the most generous being ever, loves giving to others, loves seeing how excited they get when they see the baskets.

What is May Day, anyway? Where does it come from? I'm imagining it has to do with the change of seasons, and offering thanks for our many blessings, a sign that winter is passed, and that spring is here (or on its way, anyway, here in North Dakota). It's a sign that no matter how LONG winter has gone on, it does not stay forever. There is newness, freshness, new life, new beginnings, always, and we are grateful not only for the new, but for the lessons we've learned, and how much we've grown, through the dark, introspective winter days. But me? Well, right now I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I love hearing the robin's warbles in the front yard. She wouldn't sing if it wasn't safe. So I know I'm safe. I made it through the long winter.

According to the holidayspot.com, "For the Druids of the British Isles, May 1 was the second most important holiday of the year. Because, it was when the festival of Beltane held. It was thought that the day divides the year into half. The other half was to be ended with the Samhain on November 1. Those days the May Day custom was the setting of new fire. It was one of those ancient New Year rites performed throughout the world. And the fire itself was thought to lend life to the burgeoning springtime sun. Cattle were driven through the fire to purify them. Men, with their sweethearts, passed through the smoke for seeing good luck.

Then the Romans came to occupy the British Isles. The beginning of May was a very popular feast time for the Romans. It was devoted primarily to the worship of Flora, the goddess of flowers. It was in her honor a five day celebration, called the Floralia, was held. The five day festival would start from April 28 and end on May 2. The Romans brought in the rituals of the Floralia festival in the British Isles. And gradually the rituals of the Floralia were added to those of the Beltane. And many of today's customs on the May Day bear a stark similarity with those combined traditions.

May day observance was discouraged during the Puritans. Though, it was relived when the Puritans lost power in England, it didn't have the same robust force. Gradually, it came to be regarded more as a day of joy and merriment for the kids, rather than a day of observing the ancient fertility rights."

So, there you go - maybe more than you wanted to know, but for me, I may just bring back the Maypole for next year - I'll talk to Bill's school - maybe it could be incorporated into phy ed? Besides that, what a load of fun, and that's what it's all about, right?