Vigorous waves crashing mightily on the rocks only feet from my open window.
Plush bed soft and inviting.
Reading, reading without interruption or guilt.
Peace.

Today’s GTT topic blows the lid off our fears…what we are afraid to do. My list isn’t terribly long. But the few things that push me to the edge of insanity are pretty intense to me.

So what am I afraid of?

Spiders and snakes of any shape, size, color or venomous capability. They simply make me lose my shit. Hardcore. Once when I was around 16 or so, I was walking across our front yard after having been to the neighbor’s house. Halfway to our front porch, I saw something coiled up on the lawn. It only took my mind seconds to register “SNAKE”. I froze. Literally could not move. It took me a good five minutes for my voice to come back so I could scream. And scream I did. My mother came running outside, expecting to find me with a limb chopped off or some such injury. She was rather perturbed to discover that it was “only a snake”. Yeah. Bite me, mom. While I stood there paralyzed, she went, grabbed a hoe (shut up) and proceeded to lop its head off. Mom, slayer of serpents. Jenna, chicken shit.

Heights. Anything over 4 feet off the ground is too damn high for a human being to be off the ground. I can’t even watch television if they’re on, say, the top of a gigantic river-spanning bridge (I’m looking at you, Mike Rowe – knock it off) or panning around from the top of a high rise. My palms will sweat. My stomach will churn. Black out or freak out will soon follow. I lose all sense of reason. No amount of calm, rational discussion will help me if I get to the point of yelling. Just get me down on terra firma. Top/side of a mountain does not count, FYI. I need to be as close to sea level as possible. Cause I might fall off the side of the Earth and die, yo.

Talking on the telephone. Yes, I do it in my job every single day of the week. But I hate it. I will email, fax, send letter by carrier pigeon, anything to avoid it. I will talk to Darin, my mother, MIL, etc. But that’s about it. I really can’t explain the fear. I’m not certain what it is about it that scares me. Afraid of the long pause? Looking stupid? Silly? Running out of things to say? (Shut up, Issa, it does too happen). Whatever it truly is, I have to know somebody for years before I am comfortable chatting with them on the phone. I envy people on Twitter who can exchange numbers and just like that start calling each other and having conversations.

Going to the dentist. My parents weren’t exactly big on oral hygiene. Mom had a gum disease that left her with dentures when she was 40. She never went to the dentist. Somehow with all the other stuff going on with my dad, he just never went either. So when I had to have a tooth pulled when I was around 13, that was an eye-opening experience. I had pain so bad, I wet my pants. Wet. My. Pants. You can imagine how embarrassing that was for a 13 year old. It left me so traumatized I’ve only been to the dentist two other times since then. Yes, I know how bad that is..so you can save the finger shaking emails. I just can’t do it.

That’s about all I have right now. Of course, as soon as I hit publish I’ll think of something else. But we’ll leave those for another day. So. What are you afraid to do?

Never let it be said I’m not a fan of the people.  Someone told me today I should put more videos here in order to keep my readers entertained.  This person also stated that he/she was more of a visual learner.  Well, come closer and listen carefully, young Padawan….I have a message for you.

Today I am going to do something that is long overdue.  Today I am going to give thanks to my friend Liz, who helped me turn my life around.

Yes, that may sound dramatic.  But a couple of months ago, when I wrote this I was at the end of my rope.  I felt as though I was underwater with someone standing on my head, holding me down.  I’d set impossible standards for myself and I was failing at them miserably.  It was becoming paralyzing.  I was so overwhelmed I wanted to run away from it all.  But I didn’t.

Instead, I wrote about what I was feeling, and against my better judgment, hit publish.  What I didn’t know then was that I was far from the only person struggling with the demands of house, work, kid(s) and feeling like they weren’t succeeding.  I got several comments with ideas, suggestions, support and empathy.

Then……I got an email from Liz.  She shared with me her own struggles over the very same things.  She told me how she’d had to make choices about what was important, not only for the kids, but for herself as well.  She shared in a way that truly made me feel as though I was not alone.  She gave me hope.  If she could get to a better place, so could I.  I must have read her email a dozen times.  Each time I cried.  Sad that we had to be in this place.  Wasn’t life supposed to be better by now?  Kids, family, marriage, jobs…

But with each time I read it, I started to think.  I thought about small changes we could make to our routine to make things easier on me.   We could stop commuting together.  Sure we’d spend a little more money on gas, but I could get home earlier in the evening.  Two nights a week, Darin could pick up Ava after work, leaving me with an hour or so free.  I could go home and work on dinner, laundry, go shopping or do nothing at all if I chose.  Slowly I began to give myself permission to not worry if there are dishes in the sink.  Or a pile of laundry from last week waiting to still be put away.  Little by little, and piece by piece it all started coming together for me.

Take last night, for example.  I was very tired last night, so I ordered out for dinner.  We had pasta and breadsticks and enjoyed a nice dinner together.  Afterward, I put Ava in her jammies, skipping the bath.  Then we headed out to watch an episode of her current favorite show, “Caillou” before she went to bed.  The leftovers sat on the table, as did the plates and silverware.  I’d worry about them later, after she was in bed.  So I got half an hour of cuddle and quiet time with my girl, instead of frantically trying to get the food in the fridge and the dishes put in the dishwasher, and THEN spend 10 minutes of time with Ava.  Win/Win.

I’m not saying things are perfect.  There are days I still look around and want to scream because there are too many dishes left to wash.  But for the most part I’m able to shrug off many things that before would have made me crazy.  Would I have been able to do that on my own?  I don’t think so.  I spent 18 months struggling with trying to find a balance.  I couldn’t see past the mountain in front of me.  Liz helped me find a way out.  It is a debt of gratitude I can never fully repay.

Liz, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.  For giving me hope.  For giving me a light in the dark.  Oh, and I’m totally blaming the Jello stains on my couch on you. 

Wow, a Girl Talk Thursday post from me!  And only one day after my last post! Look at me, gettin’ my blog on!

So today’s topic is Pet Peeves.  A topic near and dear to my heart, because I have hundreds of them.  Needless to say, I had to narrow them down so as not to write a sequel to War and Peace here.  Pretty much the entire world annoys me.  Well, maybe not the entire world.  But a huge percentage of it.

• Closed-minded people.  Now there’s something to be said for people who hold strong convictions, but there’s a fine line between that and just plain stubbornness.  If you dig in your heels and absolutely refuse to even consider a new possibility, I seriously have no time for you.

• Using words like “acrost” instead of “across”.  Saying “mute” instead of pronouncing it “moot”.   Thank you Archie Bunker for promoting that one.

• Apostrophes in the wrong place.  Didn’t we all take 3^rd grade English?  If it is not a contraction or showing possession, it does NOT belong there.

• Hitting your teeth with a fork or spoon while eating.  I would rather listen to Fran Drescher laugh while running her nails down a chalkboard.

• Gum poppers/snappers.  You know what I’m talking about.  Those vapid, bubble heads who stand there staring at you with that vacant look, all the while chewing gum like a cow chews cud.  Followed by a huge bubble.  Then “Pop”.

• Assholes who park damn near sideways so that you have to get in your car from the passenger side.  Seriously?  It should be legal to scrawl “Asshole” on the side of their car as you back out.

• Dogs running loose in the neighborhood.  I don’t have a dog.  There is a reason for that.  The last thing I want to do is run around scooping somebody else’s shit off of my lawn.  So I am just so Jacked UP about cleaning up after a dog that isn’t even mine.

• People who park in the middle of the street and chit chat.  This may just be a phenomenon of small towns, but people here will literally sit side by side in the street having a gossip, completely blocking the road.  Or will stop in their lane to start talking to someone who happens to be walking by.  Pull the eff over!  Call them when you get home.  Mail them a letter. I don’t care.  But get the hell off of the road!!!

• Standing in my personal space.   I’m not a hugger.  I’m not touchy feely.  I do not like people all up in my face.  If I start backing away, that is not an indication you need to move forward.  Stay where you are.

• The twist ties from hell on toys.  There’s like 700 of them on each toy.  So first, you have to figure out how to get it out of the box, and then you have to meticulously unwind each one, all the while your toddler is standing there turning red with anger because, dammit, I want my toy.!

So now you know some of my pet peeves.  I assure you, I only scratched the surface here.  Clearly, I have issues.

It’s been rather quiet here as of late.  In all honesty, it may continue that way for a while.

I’m just not feeling the writing these days.  Words are exhausting.  I wish I could give you an exact reason.  The truth is, I’m not sure myself.  I have so many thoughts and ideas in my head.  Things I want to write about.  Things I don’t want to write about.  I can’t make myself put it in written form.  Maybe tomorrow.

I’m worried.  About myself.  About Ava.  My job.  Darin’s job.  Pick something and I have a fear.

I lurk on Twitter, but I don’t have the heart to post much.  I feel the need to remain in the shadows.   Maybe tomorrow.

I owe several friends emails, but I haven’t had the energy to put forth anything of any substance.

This?  Is me.  This is why friends end up giving up on me after a while.  The silence.  I see it.  I want to change it.  I see the emails in my inbox.  I hit reply.  And then I stare at the blank screen.  Trying to find words.  Failing to find words.  I close out the window.  Maybe tomorrow.

I’m here.  I’m trying.  I just don’t feel like I have much to give right now.  Maybe tomorrow.

Today is just another Tuesday.  Except it is not just another Tuesday.  Today marks the 20^th time another year has rolled around without my dad.  Another year that I mourn for what might have been.  What should have been.

I don’t grieve in the same way I did 20 years ago.  Time has softened my emotions.  Grief that once was sharp and raw has now become dull and scarred over.  Events, smells and sounds can bring back the memories, but they no longer have the power to cripple me as they once did.

Mostly now, I look at Ava and regret that my dad is not around to see this wonderful human being that has his genes running through her veins.  Sometimes she makes a face, and for a second, I see a flash of my dad.  What I would give to see Ava sitting in his lap, eyes wide with excitement as my father told her one of his famous stories.  I wish I could see her giggling with delight as he tickled her the way he once tickled me, as we curled up on our sofa together.  I will never get to relive my childhood with my father through Ava.  My past and my present can never collide.

My biggest regret, the source of most of my sorrow, is that to Ava, my dad will never be more than a concept, an abstract idea.  A faded image in photographs.  She’ll never hear the sound of his voice or know the warmth of his hug.  No matter how much I talk about him, or show her pictures from the past, he will never be as real to her as he is to me.  He won’t be any more real to her than my own maternal grandfather is to me.

My mother’s father died long before I was born.  Although she spoke of him often, he remained a black and white image in a picture to me my entire life.  In his pictures he looked stern and gruff.  But my mother called him “Daddy” and told tales of him playing with her and her siblings.  She spoke about how much he changed after the war.  The war being WWII, and my grandfather having been drafted into Hitler’s army of old men and children toward the end.  In my head I see flickering black and white images, the grainy film of a news reel.  That is all of my grandfather I have.  I never once met him, or even spoke to him.

It pains me that my dad missed out on being a grandfather.  I hate the fact that Ava’s family history will be told through me, missing a generation of information that my father would have provided.  There is a piece of my family’s fabric that is missing.  Today I remember.  I mourn.  Tomorrow, I begin weaving another portion.

I miss you, Daddy.

I had an epiphany this morning.  I was reading a blog post that I didn’t really care about.  I scrolled to the bottom to leave the obligitory comment.  I stopped.  Why was I leaving a comment?  I didn’t really care about the post.  I had nothing to contribute, really.  So I closed out the browser window.  It got me thinking.  I do a lot of things out of a sense of obligation.  Not because I want to.

I’m going to stop doing that.  I’m going to try to put more fun back in my life.  I’m going to do more things for me.  Take better care of myself, both physically and emotionally.  I want the fun back in my life.  I have to stop waiting for someone else to do it for me.  I have to take charge and make it happen for myself.  I can’t depend on anyone else for my own happiness.  It’s up to me to make my life what I want it to be.

I’m going to read more books, watch more movies, stop reading blogs I don’t like.  I’m going to talk with my friends.

I’m going to laugh.  I’m going to cry.  But whatever I do, I’m going to make sure I start doing it for me.

Have we just gone too far?

In this day and age of being politically correct, using terms like “flight attendant” instead of steward or stewardess, postal “worker” instead of postman, have we just reached too far in our quest to be fair and neutral?

I read this morning about some feeling as though Christmas itself is under attack. Everywhere you look, it seems there are news reports about a Christmas tree being removed, Christmas programs being renamed “Winter Concert”.  All symbols of the holiday being replaced with friendly, non-denominational snowmen.

Yet, I never hear of a Star of David being taken down.  Or a harvest display placed in celebration of Kwanzaa coming down because someone was offended.  I have yet to read  about anyone getting upset at seeing a banner of crescent moons hung in celebration of EID.

So just what is it about Santa Claus, Christmas trees and carols that incites such furor?  Why do people feel so threatened by them?  If I see a menorah I don’t immediately feel I’m being pressured into converting to Judaism.

Seeing symbols of someone else’s culture or religion should be a learning experience.  An opportunity to discover more about the people around them.  It doesn’t mean you have to become them.   In our quest to be a more tolerant society, I fear we are swinging too far in the other direction.  We run the risk of disrespecting a Christian’s right to celebrate their religion.

I’m not a deeply religious person. I’ve talked about that here before.  I was raised as a Christian.  I do believe in a God.  A supreme being.  Whether his name is Jesus, Mohammed, Jehovah, or even just plain old Bob, I don’t know.  What I do know is all Gods preached tolerance.  Even as the holidays approach, many people seem to have forgotten that.

So if you walk by a Christmas tree, don’t frown if you aren’t a Christian.  Don’t look upon it as a personal insult to you and your religion.

When I walk by a menorah, or see a display for Kwanzaa, I promise I won’t get my knickers in a twist and call the ACLU.

Take time to learn about your fellow man.  Educate yourself.  You may be surprised at what you learn.

The lovely and talented  Issa, tagged me with this beauty.  She’s on a blogging break at the moment, but feel free to go over and peruse her archives.  There is some kick-ass writing over there.

1. Name someone with the same birthday as you.

Ronald Reagan.  When I was a kid, and he was president I sent him a birthday card one year.  I got back a little letter (Form letter, of course, with a stamp) but I thought it was cool.  Still have it somewhere.

2. Where was your first kiss?

Um, don’t remember.  Must have been a doozy.

3. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else’s property?

Does writing “asshole” in the dirt of someone’s car count?

4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?

No.  But I decked a girl in high school.  Broke her jaw.  I was a lot more….aggressive..then

5. Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people?

Yup.  Senior year in high school my best friend and I entered a singing competition.  She played the piano and we both sang.  We sang “The Rose”.  We came in third.  Not bad considering we ended up in the orchestra pit for our performance since the piano on stage was busted.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about your preferred sex?

If I’m up close, it’s scent.  Farther away…the eyes.

7. What really turns you off?

Stupidity.  Arrogance. Cruelty.

8. What do you order at Starbucks?

Not a coffee drinker ( Ok, Issa, stop gasping, now.) So I usually get hot chocolate or a warm vanilla creme.

9. What is your biggest mistake?

Whew..I’ve made many.  Probably not pushing harder to stay in college. 

10. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose?

Um, no.

11. Say something totally random about yourself.

I love to eat chocolate cake with a dill pickle.  I love the combo of sweet/sour.

12. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?

God, no.

13. Do you still watch kiddie movies or TV shows?

Oh yes.  In fact, I can’t wait for Ava to get older so I can share my childhood favorites with her.  I will drop everything if I find Looney Toones on.

14. Did you have braces?

Nope.  Probably should have though.  I have a nice overbite.

15. Are you comfortable with your height?

What height?  You mean my lack of it?  At 5′4″ ish.  Yeah, I suppose so.

16. What is the most romantic thing someone of the preferred sex has done for you?

I know there is something, but my brain can’t come up with anything.

17. When do you know it’s love?

When you realize you can put up with all the little things that annoy you about someone.

18. Do you speak any other languages?

Only in curse words. 
19. Have you ever been to tanning salon?

Sadly, yes.  I fried myself to a crisp as a teen.  I will pay for that one day, I know.

20. Have you ever ridden in a limo?

Yes.

21. What’s something that really annoys you?

People who don’t think the rules apply to them.

22. What’s something you really like?

Chocolate.  Caramel.  A good mystery. Snuggling with Ava.

23. Can you dance?

Can I dance?  Yes.  Can I dance well?  Noooooooo.

24. Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room?

No.

25. Tag 5 people! Because pretty much everyone I would tag with this has already been tagged, I’ll pass on this part.