Well, I realized just how much she was affected by what Dan had done. She really adored him you know, and when he left he never even said goodbye to her...nothing! We had very few close people in our life after my parents died (she was 4), and he was important to her.

The island property was a big part of her life too, she had her fort there and our camper. She and I had spent quite a lot of time there...so she suffered this loss as well.

I had driven to the ferry with her one day, to get our things out of the camper and she refused to get onto the ferry. She said she didn't want anything from our property and didn't want to go. I never attempted to go back after that.

So yes, it is sad..and why I will be very, very careful who I allow into our life again.

Your tale about Paige is very sad, Weaver. And it's an excellent caution to me. Thanks.

J,
When I asked about you, I was puzzled as to why you worded it the way you did. Perhaps I don't understand all the events that happened, but I couldn't figure out why the events (that I knew about) would affect your self image.

Photos are really neat. Enjoyed seeing everyone.

Have Hofs's sons warmed up to you yet?

SS

J,

It is so hard though to keep the bad ones out, when you are forced to give people a chance...otherwise how would you know?

One thing her Dad and I did right was that neither one of us brought a romantic interest into her life until she was six (that just happened to be when we both got serious enough to get engaged to someone). She had a very strong sense of who her parents were, and that no one would ever threaten her security in that truth.

We discussed that at her birth, agreed upon it and kept our promises to each other and to her...because we knew we were not going to be together, although we did try for awhile.

I do not solely blame the parents for who they allow into the childs life any longer...why do people have to be so stupid as to intrude on a childs life without the responsibility of making sure they do not upset that childs life.

People can be so blind.

You will guard your daughter like a mother bear, of this I have no doubt J.

The "kisser" asked me the same thing the other night.

GC

Anytime you're frustrated or annoyed or angry, SS, it's because you've tripped over some underlying thing that has created a drop in self-worth while you're in a vulnerable position. It feels icky -- like you're unlovable, inadequate, powerless, disregarded, disrespected, etc. (I can never remember all of them.)

In this case, I was feeling bad about not getting HoFS to the airport -- inadequate and powerless -- and needed to take a few seconds to really FEEL that. It wasn't an intense all-day sort of thing. I took the time to do it between setting DD in the swing and giving her that first, glorious under-duck of a push.

And then I got on the swings myself, and all was much, much better.

Weaver, I -am- a Mama Bear. I just spell my last name a little differently. Sounds the same, though. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" /> But it's hard to protect against someone your own heart is open to. I worry that I'm not careful enough with her because of that. She still asks after the woman I dated last year sometimes, and I still feel bad for saying that we probably won't see her anymore. They met in March. We dated until July. Saw each other maybe once a week for a couple of hours.

And on Saturday night when we missed HoFS' flight, DD was in the back seat and so I told her we were going to take him home again and asked her how long she thought we should keep him.

"Forever," she replied.

She's three.

Forever is a real concept to her. And to me. And I'd like to fulfill that request of hers.

Scary, to have a little child trust that much in a world that doesn't seem to work that way.

Particularly because I was that little child once and wanted the world to work that way -- and it didn't.

J, well put. Tripping over something is exactly how it seems. You're going along fine, and then something--possibly even a very small thing by all appearances--snares you, and gank! Down you go.

GC

Miss J,

My friend, I could email you and ask this, but I'll do it here instead.

Please tell me you are writing a book... of prose... of thoughts... of tripping over things... of living.

I would SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO buy it! I would give it as gifts. I would hold it by my heart and keep it forever... you, my friend, are a gift. I love your writing... it speaks to my soul.

<mush, mush, blah, blah, I know!>

Great pictures, too. Thanks for sharing them... everyone looks fab!!!!!!

Hugs, Sheryl

Hi NBII!! Oh, well, you signed the note Sheryl, so I can call you that, too. So funny -- so many names for one person. Good thing I lived for years in an online roleplaying world. The names can change, but the souls underneath are always the same.

I've been asked to put my meanderings in a book before. I've thought about it, and I've collected some of what I've written here and elsewhere into files. Someday I would love to write an autobiography out of all the bits and pieces of writings that I've saved over the years -- my e-mail, posts here and on all the boards I've been on in the last 20 years, the roleplaying game, blogs, even the little bits of documentation and journaling I've done.

But yet there doesn't seem to be a plot to the story, and that's where I always stop. There are some wonderful stories I could tell -- the insanity of the Germany project, the story of my life with my ex, the story of DD's existence, the story of the end of things with my ex, the story of meeting HoFS (I don't quite know the ending of that one yet). But the overall plotting of the story is very hard for me.

Well, and I wonder who would really bother to buy a story about me and DD going to the park and playing on the slides, you know? It seems silly. Particularly when all they have to do is come to the campfire to read them! (Yes, I know, most people don't know where the campfire is.)

So I collect things and sometimes I think about putting it all together. I haven't gotten there yet, though.

Perhaps I should talk to Penny about it. She self-published her e-book and it didn't seem impossible. And I did promise to write a book out of all the homework assignments I've done. That will be hard writing, though, not fun writing. Combining Harley's principles with the Dalai Lama's treatment of ethics, Helen Fisher's work on the biochemistry of love, the Pope's recent encyclical on love, Stosny's compassion power work, and the princples of coaching? Yep, that's gonna be pretty difficult. There's some really, really worthwhile thoughts in there. It'll just be a whole lot of work.

So.

Right after I finish writing section of, and editing all of, a full and complete policy for implementation of OMB Circular A-76 at the National Institutes of Health, check in with me on that, eh?

<img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" />

Well, and I wonder who would really bother to buy a story about me and DD going to the park and playing on the slides, you know? It seems silly.

It's not always what you say, it's how you say it.
Maybe it seems silly, but when you write, some of YOU comes out in it, and you care, so you shine.

Well, you care, and you have talent, so you shine.

It only seems silly to you, the rest of us don't think it's silly.

Understand?

SS

Hey, I'm just relaxing while basking in the warmth of a big terry bath robe after a long luxurious bath... I have a job interview this afternoon... so I'm .. r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g... good vibes, good stuff.

Ahem, anyway...

My name(s)... see, I was new_beginning when I got here in 1999... stayed that way for about three years, and then Dylan and I came up with a new name that would bring me comfort as I went through my divorce and then remarriage... so Nyneve happened... I know you've read up on her before... but then I'd come back here and people would tell me that I'll always be NB to them, but by then, NurseBetty had arrived and she was NB. (Bored with my story yet? <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/tongue.gif" alt="" />) Plus, I go through these dopey moments of thinking I'll never post again and ask to have my log-in disabled. So... finally... I decided to just be who I am, NB, with a second login name NBII. See? Simple! LOL LOL LOL But I still like the name Nyneve, so I kept it for the village.

Okay, that said... <whew>... I promise you... if you wrote your book as a narrative or collection of prose... it would sell. You have the gift, you really do.

Do you remember the Summer of Useful Rocks and Things? I've never forgotten it. People like us see things in a different way, and I think we're not alone...

So J, when you're finished with all-things-necessary... do yourself, your daughter, and all of us a favor... write that book.

The End. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" />

PS: I love your sig line... always makes me smile... and I can see those clouds in a perfect sky... as if God Himself reached down and swept them away... just whispy bits left... floating... away...

Oh, I don't even want to talk about her. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/rolleyes.gif" alt="" />

She is a problem waiting to happen...send her here. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" />

nb,



Can you pronounce this for me? It irritates the heck out of me, not knowing how I am supposed to say something...even if it is only in my head. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" />

Okay. Time to stretch the writing wings a little. Because I need to. And yes, SS, I do understand. But that's not what I'm going to talk about today. I'm going to talk about, what else? Playing in the park.



Today the sky was just blue. Not any other color, just blue. You know the shade of blue. If you were in the northeastern United States on 9/11, that shade of intense, amazing, brilliant blue will never seem quite so pure again. And yet, when you see it, you still revel in it. In spite of the memories.

Today's blue, though, wasn't broken by the mature green of late summer tree leaves, no. Today the blue was punctured by the brilliant blinding white of the most impressive swath of dogwood blossoms I have seen in all the years I've lived here. They're a carpet of white on the trees, interspersed in places with the pink dogwoods and crabapples. It's a stunning display.

I took pictures of it. Like the whisps of clouds were swept all the way down to earth and got caught in the trees, never to bother the sun and the sky again, but still left to bless us with the beauty of their colors.

We walked out into that glory this morning, DD and I. For the first time, she didn't want to ride in her stroller. Sometimes I make her walk anyway, of course. But today she just slipped her hand into mine and we set off.

We had packed a breakfast -- cereal and a banana, hot chocolate for her and a cup of coffee for me. We had the camera and my purse and my cell phone, and I've gotten good enough at this that it all fit into one relatively lightly packed shoulder bag. Guess I've been practicing.

We walked down our street and we paused at the amazing yard where so much blooms this time of year. "Those are azaleas, sweetie. See the bright pink and purple?" Perhaps 50 of them. "And those over there are tulips," hundreds of them, "and these small purple and yellow and white flowers," more hundreds, "are pansies." All packed into a 1/10 acre lot. There is no grass in that yard -- it's all flowers, and it is stunning. She's seen it before, and for her it's normal. For me, it's a wonder.

We walked on, and she switched to my other hand so that she could walk on the "balance beam" -- the curb. We walked up the hill to the busy street, and she noticed that our shadows came with us every step of the way. She found out that it's hard to step on your own shadow, but easy to step on your Mama's shadow. I just watched us walk along, hand in hand. Her hair is longer, relatively speaking, than mine. And yet both of us had hair blowing in the breeze and both of us were laughing as we walked.

As we got up to the busy street, she wanted to be carried. And something made us laugh, I don't remember what anymore. We laughed all the way down the block, and I saw people looking at us from our cars. They were wishing they were out in the warm sunshine of this beautiful day, and not stuck in their cars on the way to boring meetings in their dark gray and navy blue suits. Some days, folks, you should hold your meetings on the playground. It would do the world some good.

We were the first ones at the playground. The whole place was ours. First we played on the swings and I taught DD the ancient art of the "underduck." I was wearing a yellow t-shirt and she asked, entirely reasonable, "Is it because of your shirt? Are you a duck?"

When I was done chuckling, I explained that no, it didn't matter what shirt I was wearing -- it was because I went under the swing and had to duck when I did it. She decided that was okay and that underducks are one of the better things in life. Particularly the version where I start in front of her and push her backwards.

Then we set up our picnic in the little playhouse next to the monkey bars and slides. She didn’t want to sit still to eat, so she would come and get a bite or two and then run off again. I sat and watched. First she walked all the edges of the playground – her “balance beams.” Then she jumped off the high part (don’t panic, J, don’t panic, she’s old enough for this…) to walk around the part with the swings. And then she climbed up to the top of the monkey bars and went down the biggest tube slide and then turned around and walked back up and slid back down a few times. Back for a bite now and again throughout all of it.

Eventually she wanted me to come along and I set down my coffee to climb up the bars and crawl through the tubes and slide down the big slide. It’s a good thing I have a toddler so that I can do these things without feeling too ridiculous. Though really, the swings have always been what I like best.

We tossed a ball we’d brought along, we talked to a little boy (he said he was two) who showed up by himself, and eventually his two brothers who were supposed to be watching him trailed along and played with him for a little while. He had a cat on his t-shirt. “Kitty!” he said. “Rrrr!!” I agreed. Yes, Quinn (for that was his name), it’s quite a kitty. Then he turned and began to climb up the tall ladder on his way to the big tube slide. On the back of his t-shirt it said, “bad,” and I had to laugh. Bad kitty indeed.

Quinn got to go down the slides and try climbing the hardest of the ways up (even his brothers decided it wasn’t wise when they were almost to the top) before they all raced off to find their mom and go to the bookstore. I hope their mom is calmer than I am. They look like wonderful boys – who will probably frighten her absolutely to death before they’re done.

We played for a long time, never bothering to look at the time. And yet I was quite aware of how long it had been since 7:30am. Not everyone is at the park this morning. Not everyone is getting to enjoy this beautiful day. I could feel the disconnect, could feel myself aching for HoFS, could feel the spot where he’s supposed to be in my heart – and him not being there.

Eventually, two hours after 7:30, I called HoFS’ phone. His dad answered, as I’d hoped he would. HoFS had just come out of surgery, two hours after going in. They’d removed something from the front of his knee, and a “fist-sized” cyst from the back of his knee. The surgeon said it had gone well, HoFS was still asleep in the recovery room. As DD shrieked at me to climb up the inside of the tube slide (not gonna happen, sorry), HoFS’ dad promised to have HoFS call me as soon as he was awake enough to do it.

I thanked him profusely, even as I was embarrassed at the insistent little voice of my daughter, still sure that Mama can do anything – even climb up the inside of a slide that’s her size, not mine. We managed, though it was a moment of remembering, again, how many different directions my head and heart are pulled in sometimes.

We finished our morning at the park in time to meet the man who came to give us an estimate on painting the house. We walked home, DD riding on my shoulders and me carrying our bag, laughing and chatting about the neighborhood. Those people have pretty flowers. There’s a cat. These people are building a new porch. We’ve walked this way many times before. We like to walk together. Someday, maybe, DD will remind me of those walks. Or she won’t, because they’re so much part of who she is that she won’t think to talk about them. Either way is okay with me.

Through the laughter and the sunshine and the chatter, too, there was relief. HoFS is okay, even though he’s far away and I can’t talk to him yet. Soon. Soon I’ll get to talk to him and reconnect. Soon I’ll see him and touch him again. Soon.


--------------------------------------

Note: I wrote this last night, and it happened yesterday. HoFS is recovering nicely from his surgery, though it's clear this is a much bigger deal than the carpal tunnel surgeries were.

J,
Thanks for letting us know HoFS is OK.

Thanks for sharing.......



FAITHFUL !!!
Date this weekend?

Weaver,
Thanks for making me smile.
How?
By being you.
I like you Weaver, I'm glad I know you.


Funeral this morning, but it was his time, and we that knew him are happy for him.

Wishing you all a good weekend. Especially you Gray.
It's about your turn.

SS

you didn't like cabbage?!?!?!

you ate the cabbage?!?!?

when did I miss Grey eating my cooking?!?!?


I tell ya, I can' look away for a minute....I miss everything....


except for the eyebrow thing....J was right on about that....and she ws right...

but it's ok...

you were still really really really nice to meet....especially after 'reading' you for the lonnnnnnngest time....


and meeting J and cerri....whew....

don't get me started....


but I'm so glad you liked the cabbage....it's actually a Thai recipe...the hoisin and sesame oil makes all the difference....otherwise, cabbage =shudder....


now I have to go catch up on the rest of the campfire...i only got as far as this page....

Dylan

anybody have FAR's email addy?

Hi weaver, and Happy (rainy) Sunday!

Nyneve is tricky to say... I've heard it two ways, but I'll tell you how I say it in my head...

First way: Ne-nev ("eh" sound - not the Canadian "eh" which sounds like "aye" which is not the pirate "aye", which sounds like "eye". LOL LOL LOL)

Second way: Ni-nev (long I sound, like "eye")

In my head, it's the second way.

JustJ is JustaBeautifulWriter... sigh... I love reading you... it's like... a warm waterfall...

Dylan, your cabbage sounds wonderful. You just can't find it made well around here... or anywhere, for that matter. Guard your gift, my friend!! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" />

then there is also the Nine-Eve pronunciation as well as the Nin-ave...

darn all those ancient celtic dialects!!!


LOL


hey sheryl...did you see the pics J posted??.....friends for over 7 years...and I can't remember if you've ever seen my pic?!?!..sheesh...

anyhoo..there is one of Grey and I...I'm leaning over the poor man in my attempt to grab HoFS' birthday cake...he he he...


J's writing...well...all I can say is that I want to be J when I grow up...

warm waterfall...
crystaline snowy day....
a harvest of sunshine...
edges of twilight...
stormy clouds....

yup.

I want to be J when I grow up...

Dylan, I did see J's pictures <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" />... and you're just as I remember... yes, we exchanged pics eons ago... and you don't look a day older... what are you?... 24? You look great! And I thought you looked like you were serving GC, not stealing cake from him! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/eek.gif" alt="" />

I'll send you an updated pic, Dylan... in fact, maybe I'll get brave and post it... maybe not, though... but maybe... er... maybe not... <shiver, scary moment there where I almost just did it!>...