More Ponderings

I'm kind of stressed and one of my favorite ways to deal with it is let my mind run free. It can be fun and it can be dangerous. Feel free to weigh in.

When Bad things happen to Good People
I'm very scared about the health situation of a good friend. Actually, I have a couple of friends in scary health situations. It makes me angry. It frustrates the control freak in me. My minister told me it's perfectly okay and normal to rant and rave at God. Somehow, that made me feel better and guilty at the same time.

I Miss My Parents and my Other Dog
The time I spent living with my parents was truly a gift. We all knew it would end (we had no clue how it would end) but I truly miss my little bedroom, our teasing each other and the rediscovery of each other on a day-to-day basis. And their little dog stole a piece of my heart.

My New Job
I start my new job tomorrow. I'm nervous. I'm not afraid of my ability to do the job; I can handle it. It's more like a child on the first day in a new school. Will I fit in? Will they like me? How will I adapt to this total upheaval of my schedule?

Posture
I have always prided myself on my posture. All those years of ballet paid off in some way. And I've always ridiculed people, especially teenagers, with horrible posture. Tyler probably has permanent wounds from me poking him and hissing,"Stand up straight!" But lately I've got glimpses of myself in the mirror and I'm slightly slumping. What is that about?

Houses
Since we've reconciled, we have been making some changes to our house. With the market the way it is, we haven't decided if we're making these changes with the intent to sell or the intent to live here forever. We prefer the term "updating." It's an open proposition for now. But it feels good. I love this house. I love the changes we're making.

Shopping
Does anyone make reasonable clothing for a woman my age at a reasonable price? I refuse to dress like a teeny bopper and I'm not quite ready for stretchy pants and the sweatshirt with kittens and bunnies. Guess my current wardrobe is going to have to do for now.

Giving Up. Giving In. Going Home.

Sorry for the long delay since my last post. Quite a bit going on.

Is your marriage certificate just a piece of paper? If so, is your divorce decree just another one? I've had people make comments of that sort to me and truthfully, I don't agree. I appreciate the legalities involved but I also know the emotional importance of both.

I am back with my ex-husband -- the love of my life. For both of us, it represents exactly what the title of this blog post says. We are giving up, giving in and finding home again. And, redefining it. We are two people in various stages of mid life embracing our past and determined to celebrate the good parts while not repeating the bad parts. I met this man when I was 26 and married him when I was 29. He has been my husband, lover and friend for most of my adult life.

Perhaps this marriage had to run into a ditch for us both to realize what we have and what we screwed up. I'm not big on trying to figure out God's plan -- I'm not that smart. But with hindsight, I can see we needed the break to appreciate what we had and what we have found again.

A couple of years ago, we were at a lake cottage with friends. Gabby on his lap and all of us having fun on the pier. We will do that again next weekend but oh how we have grown and changed.



I'm giving up. I'm giving up things like pride, my control-freak tendencies and my judgemental ways when he says or does something I don't agree with. I'm giving in. Giving in to the pure, raw feeling that says to me, "This is right."

I'm home.

The House that Built Me

The wonderful thing about country music is the stories. Heartache, mischief, loves gone wrong, etc.

Miranda Lambert's latest, The House That Built Me, is my new fave. How does she know this much about me?

Here are some snippets:

I used to do my homework in that little room.
My favorite dog is buried in your back yard.

And the best part is the chorus:

If you'll just let me in, I swear I'll leave ... with nothing but a memory.

She needs to be in her childhood home. Touch the walls, feel the aura, put a hand on the concrete.

I'm in touch with this. My life fell apart and guess where I ran?

I'm long past the time that I should've moved on. Call it lazy or call it crazy ... I don't know.

I will move on. I will redefine the life I need for myself. But right now, I'm indulging a need. I put my head on a pillow, say my prayers and take great comfort in returning to the house that built me.

Giving it Back

When my husband and I married, it was important to him that I take his name. I was a little hesitant. I really did not want to go through the hassle of changing my name. Again. I also have maintained an odd affection for my given name.

But, I am a pretty traditional person and I appreciate the symbolism and simplicity of sharing a name with a husband. A marriage -- a couple, a shared home, a shared last name.

I have used his last name for more than 16 years -- most of my professional life. More people know me by that name than my original name although thankfully, I've always held onto my maiden name as my middle name. I hope I have used his name well but I know now it was not meant to be permanent. It was given as a gift and I no longer want it. I'm thinking of it more as a loan and now it's time to give it back.

Once the nice judge says it is permissible, I will begin the lengthy (and somewhat cleansing) process of changing my name. Again. This time it doesn't feel like a chore. It feels like returning home.

And to all of you who have never quite given up calling me "Sheri Lynn" or referring to me as "Riley," I want you to know that all three names are music to my ears.

A Road Trip

This weekend I drove to Memphis to visit one of my golden friends. Remember this saying:

Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold.

We have been friends since kindergarten so that definitely qualifies.

She and her husband built a gorgeous new home a few years ago and I was privileged to check it out for myself. Descriptive words would not do it justice so I will not even try. The greatest compliment I can give her is that for all of its grandeur and opulence, it feels warm and inviting. It feels like a home.

The trip there (and of course, the trip home) allowed me 8 1/2 hours of alone time. Just me and my brain. It was a fine time for reflective thinking. I beat myself up a bit, made some decisions, walked down memory lane and made some plans. It was therapeutic and time well spent.

Plus it was a lot cheaper than paying a therapist for 17 hours.