Wishing Well

I’ve noticed that wishes are usually monumental things:

I wish I was rich…

I wish cancer didn’t exist…

I wish I could go back and change [insert regret]…

I have also noticed that wishes are usually followed by a “but”

…but I’m not.

…but it does.

…but I can’t.

Are wishes really prayers that we just don’t realize we are saying or are afraid to form as a prayer for whatever reason?  What if we did form it as a prayer?

Dear Lord, please help me to provide for my family as best I can.

Dear Lord, please find a cure for cancer.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for past mistakes.

Even better, what if we formed wishes as prayers for others?

Dear Lord, please help me find a way to help those less fortunate than me so I remember how blessed I am.

Dear Lord, please bless the researchers looking for a cure for cancer.

Dear Lord, please help me forgive those who I feel have wronged me.

You know, I’ve had times in my life when I didn’t know what the hell to even wish for or pray for.  At that point, the best thing you can say is Dear Lord, I am handing it over to you.  Help me.

Here’s wishing your prayers are answered.

Should I Or Shouldn't I?

Photo courtesy of Pleated Jeans.com

I think I finally figured out why I don't like shopping of any sort.  It involves thinking and analyzing, and that's not me.  Remember me?  I'm the one stuffed wit fluff and of very little brain!

I am impulsive and rash.  I buy instead of shop.  I go in knowing what I want and how much I’ll spend on it.  Give it to me and let me outta here.  This would be why I have come home countless times with crap that isn’t what I really need or want and clothes that don’t fit or look good (because I didn’t take the time to try them on). 

Conversely, oftentimes, Captain comes home with nothing because he either couldn’t make up his mind or he decided he just couldn’t justify the expense.

Photo courtesy of Grey bijoux

You’d think the happy middle here would be that we shop together and maybe balance each other out. 

I am here to testify it ain’t so.  Remember…more often than not we can’t leave a grocery store on speaking terms and often after threats of physical violence on my part.  I have never, and will never, take him clothes shopping with me.  First, I don’t shop for clothes often and if I do, I want an honest opinion from my shopping buddy.  Captain would give me the “It looks fine” line because he would absolutely believe it whether I looked like a movie star or a sack of potatoes. 

Captain is tormented by the women in his life who come home from shopping and proclaim, “I save x-amount of dollars on this outfit!”  And his answer is, “No, you spent x-amount of dollars on this outfit, and it’s too much.”      

The whole impulse thing doesn’t happen for me with just shopping, either.  Take vacations for instance. 

Captain happened to mention a while back that he’d like to go to Memphis.  So I researched the cost of driving versus flying; hotel rates; and tourist information, etc.  Within three days, I had a nice trip planned. 

When I told Captain that, he was all, like, “I didn’t mean NOW…just someday.” 

Buddy, where I come from, thoughts don’t come out of your mouth until you MEAN them.  Don’t get me all excited about a road trip and then be a dream crusher.  Uff da!  Looking back, he never specified “someday” in that thought.  If he had, I wouldn’t have gone into research mode so fast.  Apparently I was just supposed to know that because—you might not know this about me—I guess I am a mind reader. 

See…Captain thinks out loud while he tries to come to a decision.  It’s a struggle for him, and sometimes I can actually see the pain all that trying-to-make-a decision is causing him.  I don’t actively think about stuff.  It all stews around in my subconscious until such time as my subconscious puts the smarty pants on and comes up with an end game.  THEN I start speaking.

Another fine example was when Captain happened to mention if we ever remodeled the kitchen (see me rolling on the floor laughing???), he would very much like a center island. 

It wasn’t a week—maybe two—and I had a complete kitchen remodel drawing worked up complete with his center island (it was a good idea), enlarged triple-size pantry, new cupboards, and an upgraded stove and range hood.  I had hammered copper ceiling tiles.  I had new paint, new light fixtures, and new bar stools for that center island.  I’m guessing my plan was tens of thousands of more dollars than Captain’s idea.  Hey, if you’re going to dream dream big!!

Once again I got the “Boy, you get an idea and you run with it, don’t you?”

Well, duh!  If you weren’t ready to act on the thought, don’t speak the thought.  That’s how my world works. 

Obviously, both the road trip and the remodeling are on the back burner, but boy oh boy, once Captain finally says “go”…there will be no stopping me!

In Honor of National FFA Week

Green Leaves Unfurled

Waiting for the ground to warm

To nurture newly sown seed;

Watching for green leaves unfurled

Is an anxious time indeed!

Watching the sky night and day

For more rain or maybe less.

Spraying for the weeds that come

Before they create a mess.

Weighing cost against the pay

That so often seems unfair,

Since everyone gets their cut

Before he can get his share.

Why live this life just to have

Graying hair and sleepless nights?

Any farmer will just say:

To enjoy the sounds and sights.

Rumbling tractors in the field,

Chirping birds across the sky.

Blessed silence in his sleep

That comes with the softest sigh.

Laughing children by his side,

Good  neighbors who stop over.

Make the trials of farming life

Seem like walking in clover.

He wouldn’t change or give it up

For the riches of the world.

He will wait for warming ground

And green leaves to be unfurled.

--©Jude Brogan, 2011

Poor Is Not a State of Wallet

 

Poor isn’t a state of wallet, it’s a state of mind.  Much like the saying “You are only as happy as you decide to be,” you are only as poor (or rich) as you decide to be.

“Oh gosh, I don’t have the money to completely repaint my living room, get new carpet, and all new furniture” does not constitute poor. 

I’ve had poor periods in my life.  It’s when you have to make a conscious decision about whether to pay the light bill or buy groceries because you sure as hell can’t do both. 

 

I once got stopped by a deputy because my tabs were expired…by six months.  Okay, hear me out before you judge.  The poor man caught me after a pretty nasty day and I was out of sorts, so when he asked if I knew my tabs were expired, my answer was “Yes, I do, but it’s been a choice between tabs and groceries and groceries have been winning.” 

After that, I had to figure how I was going to buy groceries AND pay the stupid fine. 

Conversely, or on the same note, being rich is also a state of mind.  Even when we didn’t have any cash on hand, we had everything we needed.  We always had decent clothes to wear, a warm house, good food.  And we did manage to do fun stuff on the cheap.

We never took our kids on a “hotel vacation” until this January at the Waterpark of America.  Our vacations consisted of state parks because it cost $8 per night versus hundreds at a hotel and we brought our own food.  Day trips were of the sight-seeing sort. 

We spent many enjoyable afternoons at Oxbow Zoo watching the otters and the bison or hiking on some of their trails.  We would drive over to Cabela’s in Owatonna a couple of times a year to check out the animal mountain, the Bargain Cave, and go through the aquariums.  All it cost us was a little bit of gas and the price of two candy bars from the checkout because the kids had been good.

Maybe the most memorable of our on-the-cheap day trips was one horribly hot July Sunday afternoon.  We got out of church and headed to Red Wing with the kids.  We drove past the waterfront area near the water park.  There were open picnic tables, so we traveled on to the other side of town to Subway to get their Sunday special of two foot-long subs for $10.  A brief stop at the Kwik Trip across the street for a 12-pack of store brand pop, and we were good to go.

Well, Molly was a little nervous because she was absolutely certain that the short drive to the park in the nearly unbearable heat and humidity would ruin the sandwiches because “the mayonnaise will rot!”  We still bat that phrase around on occasion at picnics.

Did we have times in our marriage where money was an absolutely essential critical issue?  Damn tooting, we did.  We were ever poor?  Not for one single, solitary second.     

In A Child's Eyes

Having a child in school was one of the most eye-opening experiences I have ever been through.  It gave me a whole new insight into the lunacy we called “home.”  

Perfectly innocent things had a way of being turned into perverse and odd happenings when related by Young Man to his teacher during kindergarten show and tell.  

Take Christmas for instance.  That lovely holiday that requires a prominent display of mistletoe.  Because of the layout of our house at that time, the only place to conveniently hang mistletoe was in the entryway/mud room.  This was convenient for Captain because he could innocently stand in the doorway looking for smooches from any passerby…that was usually me.  It also happened to be the area where he shed his filthy, dirty, chore clothes every night.

This didn’t seem to be a problem until first semester kindergarten conferences at school.  Young Man’s teacher rather hemmed and hawed around, and then asked what we traditionally did with our mistletoe.  Not understanding that this was tricky ground, I simply shrugged and said, “We hang it up and forget about it.”  After more hemming and hawing, she finally got to the point.  

It seemed that during show and tell, when the teacher was asking if anyone had mistletoe, Young Man raised his hand.  The teacher asked him what he did under the mistletoe, and he said, “Nothing.”  When asked if anyone else was under the mistletoe, he eagerly responded, “Daddy’s under the mistletoe every night!”  When the teacher asked for an explanation of what Daddy did under the mistletoe, Young Man though a moment and said nonchalantly, “He takes his clothes off.”

The teacher did not seem amused by my sudden outburst of hysterical laughter.  Evidently she had interpreted this to be something of a nudist tendency.  However, in defense of the teacher, when she had the complete details of WHY Captain disrobed under the mistletoe, she too found the humor in the story.

Along with those times when this child caused embarrassment in the school setting, there were also times when his experiences pulled his mother’s heartstrings a little too tight.  

One year, Valentine’s Day was anxiously anticipated in our house by Young Man because he had discovered his first sweetheart.  He spent several days making her a Valentine at school and was very excited about surprising her with it on the bus on Valentine’s Day.

When the big day arrived and the bus brought him home, I was shocked to see him walking dejectedly toward the house with shoulders slumped and backpack dragging.  I could see a rolled up something-or-other in his hand, too.  When he came in the door, before I could ask what was wrong, he looked up at me with tears in his beautiful brown eyes and cried, “She didn’t want my Valentine, Mom!  Will you take it?”  Such cruel rejection was handed out by a young lady who simply didn’t like the color of the ribbon on his Valentine.

I told him I most certainly would take the Valentine.  He handed it to me and stood looking at his feet while I opened it.  It was a 2x2 foot white construction paper heart with a border finger-painted in pink, blue, purple and green with a heart felt message ghost-written by the teacher and signed with love.

I treasured treasured that Valentine through the years up until it went up in smoke with the house.  To be honest, I’m quite sure that Young Man has long since forgotten his heartache.  However, the story reminds me that while, as a parent, there were times I wanted to take the pain away from my children, it was not always possible to do so, and some lessons are best learned the hard way so as not to be forgotten.  Love freely given and thrown back in someones face is the hardest lesson there is, so his Valentine story is a reminder to me to be considerate of other’s feelings.  

What's Your Poohsonality?

Did you know that there is a plethora of websites about the A. A. Milne characters of Winnie The Pooh fame and the theory that they were actually created to personify emotional characteristics? 

Think about it.

 

Pooh has low self-esteem which leads to his constant need for Hunny.

 

Piglet is phobic about everything.

Tigger has ADHD.

Owl is a narcissist.

Rabbit has OCD.

Christopher Robin is schizophrenic and can’t determine reality from fantasy.

Eeyore…well poor Eeyore is just down in the dumps constantly. 

So they are all pretty much a hotbed of mental disorders.  How do they all cope and survive in the midst of these challenges?  Yes, I know they are fictional characters…work with me here.

They support each other, and each character plays to his strengths.  If you need something organized, Rabbit is your guy.  If you want to exercise incessantly, find Tigger and he’ll set you up.  Pooh just makes everybody feel better because, even though he is “of little brain,” he is of big heart.

In Brogan world, we could be our own little Hundred Acre Wood because we cover most of those bases.  We’ve got a Tigger.  Some days we have two Rabbits, some days we have two Eeyores, and sometimes we have one of each.  We have a Kanga and a Roo.  We have an Owl, although I would use “wise” instead of “narcissistic” for her.  I can be a Piglet about some things, but mostly I’m stuffed with fluff so I can pull off the Pooh character pretty good. 

Except for that “think…think…think, think, think” thing he does.  I’m not a big thinker.  That’s Captain’s job; he’s the deep thinker in this house.  He thinks deep thoughts like:  who decided on what blue was?  How would you describe blue to a blind person?  What if blue was actually yellow? 

Me?  My deepest thoughts run along the lines of Is it okay to pray while you pee?

I am not and never have been an analytical person.  That involves the science/math side of the brain.  Ummm…hello??  I’m a writer…that involves the artsy-fartsy side of the brain. 

I’m all emotions and feelings and Captain is all logic and science.  Not that Captain is unfeeling; that’s not what I am saying at all.  I’m saying that I am not a thinker, and when I fly off into Irrational Land based on emotions and feelings, Captain is there to bring me back down to earth.  When Captain is being a little too uptight, I lighten him up with my innate whimsy and charm.

I think we could all take some lessons from Pooh and his friends.  It’s pretty basic.  Everyone has worth even while struggling with character flaws of some sort.  Find the good in everyone.  Recognize each other’s challenges and find ways to help your friends not just cope, but thrive, despite them.  Enjoy life and all the people in it whom you love. 

Male Domestic Blindness

I’ve always felt we live in a safe neighborhood.  People around here know who drives what car, when they go to work, and when they are on vacation…you get my drift.

However.

Apparently in this safe and secure neighborhood, a nefarious character is hiding.  He sneaks into our house and steals:  the TV remote, Captain’s wallet, Captain’s checkbook, Captain’s underwear.

Do you sense the theme here?

It is Captain’s claim when he can’t find something, “Someone must have stolen it.”

I get that wallets or checkbooks are worth stealing, but I ask you:  who wants someone else’s underwear?!

Rest assured neighbors, there is no thief lurking in Devil’s Kitchen waiting to abscond with your things. 

The problem is that Captain is suffering from Male Blindness Syndrome. 

Say, for whatever reason, Captain can’t lay his hands easily on his union suit, and it’s a blizzard outside.  Instead of going through the logical steps of checking the shelf where they are folded or the dryer, or the washer, or the hamper…he yells from the laundry room “Someone stole my underwear!”

Really?  This is your go-to conclusion?  Dude, it must be hell in your head.

It’s the same if he is looking for, let’s say, a jar of pickles in the fridge.  Not that someone stole our food, but “it’s not here.”  Yes it is, second shelf, left hand side.  “It’s not here.”

Turns out the problem is that the 1-inch high tub of sour cream was in front of the 8-inch high jar of pickles, and it was blocking his line of sight. 

The TV remote never actually gets stolen.  It grows legs and wanders away.  Like most American homes, we have our two TV chairs with an end table in between.  This is handy for my crochet paraphernalia, cups of coffee, or—hey—the TV remote when not in use!

Nope, Captain keeps a death grip on the TV remote when he is in his chair.  Then he falls asleep and the remote either slides down between the cushions (“someone stole it”) or it falls onto the floor and the batteries go flying to irretrievable places.  And before you ask, no, there is not a cover over the batteries.  Every remote we’ve ever had ends up with no battery cover because on one of those drops onto the floor…it breaks. 

I don’t know about you, but when I’m not using the remote, I leave it lay on that end table.  When I am done watching TV, I pick up the remote, turn off the TV, and put the remote back on the end table.  Call me crazy.

When Captain is done watching TV (or gets interrupted by a phone call, bathroom break, meal time), he takes the remote with him, leaves the TV on, and sets the remote down in random locations.  When next he wants to watch TV and can’t find the remote…you guessed it…”someone stole the remote.”

In the name of fair play, I will admit I am not without my own visual challenges.  Mine happens in the grocery store.  I’m in the soup aisle, and all I need is one stupid can of cream of mushroom soup.  I stand in front of the rows and rows and rows of cans…completely blind.  I do not see it.  Captain stands beside me and says, “It’s right there.”  Where?!  “Right there!”  WHERE?!  He finally grabs the can that was—get this—right in front of my face. 

Even Dipstick has this problem.  Our dogs, spoiled creatures that they are, get a biscuit every morning.  Dayzee gets to come in the house for hers, but Bear and Dipstick have to wait on the back deck.  Dayzee chows down her biscuit in the entryway while Captain goes on the deck to give the boys their biscuits. 

Bear, being the patriarch of this canine clan, just has to sit and look distinguished to get his biscuit.  Dipstick has to sit AND shake.  Friends, he’s 8 years old and just mastered this trick about six months ago.  Anyway, he does the sit-and-shake thing, and Captain offers the biscuit.  Gingerly, because Dipstick has a massive jaw with sharp teeth.

If for whatever reason, the biscuit doesn’t end up in Dipstick’s jaws and falls on the deck…he’s befuddled.  He can’t find it.  You can point it out to him, he looks right at it, and apparently can’t see it because he will look back at Captain like, what the fudge, dude?  Seriously, Captain has to pick the biscuit up and try again.

Male, female, or canine apparently doesn’t matter.  This visual incapacity crosses all demographic borders and can affect anyone, anywhere, anytime.  Beware, pals of mine, beware!!