Time to Redecorate

It's getting cold.

Traces of fall remain but

I can smell the black, white

and gray that is winter.

Yellow remains for hope,

always hope.

And red for passion.

This is me, for now.

A Word of Thanks

I'm still stuck in Okie speak. I hope it lasts a little longer this time before my vowels start to shorten and I lose the soft roll of a long, drawn out Heeyyy Therrrree. I just noticed I have surpassed 15,000 views of my blog. Thank you to all who have supported me in this mission of love and what some would say is stunningly wreckless honesty. 

This photo was taken on our girls trip a few days ago by my dearest bird so I'm floating her that look of love and adoration because I love and adore her, you know.  Now I am sharing that look of love and adoration with you for reading me, following me, building me up with your comments and making this blog endeavor satisfying enough to sustain me, even in the dark times.

Big kiss coming your way. Ker-Blam!

Remember what Ms. Angelou had to say on the topic: There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. I will continue to bare it all for you, my faithful readers and friends.

Friday Follow - 40 and Over - Bloggy Love

I'm all about supporting my fellow womankind, especially those that are over 40 because those bitches understand hot flashes, chin hairs, happy tears and random bouts of incontinence. So I thought I would sign myself up for the Friday Follow - 40 and over blog hop through my friend Leiah over at A Southern Belle Trying Not To Rust. If you don't know what a blog hop is, cause I sure didn't, it's explained below. Looks like I'm going to have some blog reading to do this weekend. I'm excited to visit the blogs listed below.

And for those that may be hopping over to my blog this weekend, here are a few random offerings from my world.

I woke up one morning in my early thirties and found my stick straight hair had suddenly and without assistance become naturally curly.

I quite possibly could be the most talented wii avatar creator on the face of the earth. Sometimes I’ll sit and create avatars for celebrities like Dr. Phil, Bono and Oprah so I can run into them when I’m working out on wii fit.

I will go out of my way to see a marching band perform.

I have never been able to get away with wrong doing as I was cursed by my mother with the propensity to get caught.

I passed this curse down to my children. My oldest son obtained a light porn video around the age of 14. I innocently ejected it from his VCR, popped it into a Blockbuster movie case and returned it along with our other rentals. Not only do we get caught but we are caught in the most outlandish, publicly humiliating ways imaginable. Busted.

My friends and I believe we have to sit still with the dark times that sometimes invade our lives, believing that we must go through them to clear out the debris and make way for new growth.

Speaking of dark times, peri-menopause sucks. I hope they find a cure for it one day.

Hormonally yours,

Zen Mama

Does My Family Know About My Blog?

I don't generally subscribe to memes but this one came from someone I adore as a writer, fellow southern gal, philosopher and  recent co-conspirator in a plot to whack a mole. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. I mean, what if she came after me next? I felt obliged to participate, even if it meant I had to meditate with my laptop.

If you haven't met Here in Franklin, you have to pay her a visit. Added bonus that she was tagged by none other than The Unbearable Banishment  with whom I have a bit of a crush because from the back, he kinda looks like Richard Gere and he has that whole NYC vibe that makes me all a flutter. I'm from Oklahoma and all but New York is my city. So I read his stuff and I live vicariously.

Here's how it all unfolds.  I answer 10 questions HIF wrote, then I write ten questions of my own and tag six other people. HIF crafted the following questions for me.  Damn girl, #2 is keeping me up at night.

1. You have magical powers and can go back in time to the concert of your choice. Who is it?

Elvis Presley circa 1976.  My mom and I met Elvis on a private runway in Oklahoma City just before he became really large, as in girth, not in popularity. I was too young to understand what was before me. Now, I wish I could see Elvis, and have my mom with me to watch what happened after.

2. You must choose between two candidates to be Ruler of the World. One is a cat. One is a dog. Who do you vote for and why?

The obvious choice here is so obvious I almost missed it. Everyone would choose the cat; thus, it is imperative I must root for the underdog, or in the case, simply the dog.  I could envision this particular breed of canine to be loyal, fiercely protective, i.e., willing to chew Obama Bin Laden's houses shoes and cunning enough to surround himself with cats to actually run the damn world.

3. Mountains or beach?

I live in Milwaukee so it is beach because mama misses her some sun. And please, I'm not some dumb hillbilly who thinks the mountains have no sun. If you offer me mountains or beach, I immediately reference snow skiing vs. nestling my toes in the sand (yes, perchance a slight bit hillbilly).  However, if you were to offer me a summer trip to the mountains that involve observing the interesting rock formations surrounding my margarita glass as I lounge by the pool, then I might consider a higher altitude.
 
4. Are you interested at all in the local politics where you live, or do you only pay attention in national elections?

Not only am I not interested but I go out of my way to avoid political discussions, CNN, Larry King, my ex-husband, Drudge, Limbaugh, Hannity, O'Reilly, Coulter, Beck, the dude on the corner who holds up a sign and most recently, all the important emails begging me to blindly agree with their ignorant doctrine and then hastily forward to everyone in my contact list or be burned at the stake.

5. You have the opportunity to tell off the person you most despise without any repercussions. Do you? Who is it?

Every single frickin' time in my life I have told somebody off, I live to regret it. That is, unless of course, they had it coming.  How do you think I got to be a Zen Mama? I have spoken my peace in hardship and made my peace in this world. There is no more to be said, but a helluva lot to be written; hence, this blog.
 
6. Do you have too much stuff or not enough stuff?

I am the opposite of a hoarder.  I sometimes question myself as to why I so easily discard things. I think it's because I've seen so many people die and ultimately that drives the message home. You can't take this shit with ya. 
 
7.  The house is on fire. What do you grab first (excluding people and pets)?

My purse and my back up drive - see answer to #6 for clarification.
 
8. What place in the world would you visit again and again?

South Salem, New York
 
9. Do you ALWAYS answer the phone, or just let it ring?

Let it ring baby, let it ring.

10. Does your family know about your blog?

Oh, hell yes. My oldest son reads my blog somewhat intrepidly but I want him to know the things that are not easy to say. I have only one brother left that was there to see my childhood and he has an opposing view about how things went down. Such is family.  I have nieces and a nephew whom I ardently and fervently adore from afar. And I have my sisters, my real family, the ones I have chosen to see me through.

This could come across as a somewhat anticlimactic ending and for that, I do apologize, but I don't have the wherewithal to pass this torch, this meme along, by creating 10 questions of my own. Perhaps I will start it up again at some point in the near future, but for now, I am tired. Too tired to think.  Too tired to hand off the baton, too tired to post about everything that is unfolding in my life at this very moment.

My basement flooded today and I was thankful, for it was the least of my worries. Yet, also thankful because it could have been worse, and because I had help and because my kids thought it was cool and because I am enough and because......my family knows about my blog.

Immaculate Heart of Darkness

Dear Readers, I have confessed to you my deepest, soulful hurts and hopes; yet, I am not done. There is more, so much more but you must know, it is daunting. I have consistently tried to spare no detail, no matter how shocking, no matter how personal, no matter the cost. It has been and remains a form of therapy for me.  I slice myself open, lay bleeding, let it all run out then I turn it over to you – to the universe – to take it from me, to find something useful from it or to know that maybe, just maybe you feel a little better knowing there is someone out there who keeps showing up. As of this day, May 10th, I am here.

Mother’s Day was and always is hard on me. My real family, a/k/a/ my girlfriends, sent me messages throughout the day. My kids made me breakfast in bed. My boyfriend even loaned me one of his kids so I could snuggle up with her as I went to sleep on Saturday, knowing my own offspring would not be arriving until the next morning.

I focused on the many blessings I have but it wasn’t enough to sustain the place of darkness that resides within my otherwise peaceful heart. My next series of posts are going to be a bit idiosyncratic. Peculiar for me. I hope you will allow me to indulge and wallow in it. I hope you will follow me to the dirtiest of places as I enter a new phase of grief. Actually, it’s not new; pretty sure I just conveniently skipped over it.
Anger.

I desperately want to express it to you in my usual verbose, four-chapter- novella style with a touch of humor to soften the jagged edges but I’m too twisted, too tormented to go there. Instead, I’m going to free flow. It’s not intended to be poetry.

It’s me, unfiltered, unedited and undone.

Zen Mama will be taking a break for a while.   In her place, you will be meeting Mad Mama. See photo to the right. 

Come with me as I swing wildly through the vines, screaming like the spider monkey I am.

Shoes for Samantha

I'm throwing my hat or should I say my shoes into the ring here to support a new charity, established by a few blogging friends of mine. They are all young women (early 20's), having not even established their own paths yet but already compassionately giving back.

What a wonderful thing to know that our next generation is ready to give.

They now have their own Shoes for Samantha blog site and are considering starting a non-profit. I love the story and I want to see this amazing woman have shoes on the feet of all her future track starts. Wouldn't that be amazing?  Here's the scoop from Rachel, over at Confessions of a Virgin Blogger. Rachel will be moving to NYC to begin law school in the fall. I'm so happy I've "met" her here in the blogosphere. I want you to know her too. Bottom line, they need running shoes and money to ship them but I'll let her tell you in her own words:

As you may or may not know, my dear friend Samantha is stationed in Lesotho (Southern Africa for those of you who have never heard of it. Don't feel bad - neither had I) for a 2.5 year stint with the Peace Corps. Recently in her blog she wrote about a track team at her school. Sam was a HUGE runner in high school and college and the only person who has ever succeeded in convincing me to run anywhere (which is a feat in and of itself). Track season in Lesotho is almost over but she's talking of coaching next year. The problem? Her students desperately need shoes. Sam writes, "The debatably 400 meter track had two mild inclines and was dirt smeared with shards of glass. My students ran barefoot!" After reading this, I knew I wanted to help.

Our mutual friend Hannah did a little research and found that "a leading cause of disease in developing countries is soil-transmitted diseases, which penetrate the skin through bare feet. Wearing shoes can help prevent these diseases and the long term physical and cognitive harm they cause."

So, I'm writing to ask if you have any old running or athletic shoes, if you'd be willing to donate them to Sam's students in Lesotho. Any size and gender will do. I sent out an e-mail last week and got an overwhelmingly positive response, including some from a couple of key people who are stepping up to the plate in terms of organization. Because of them, we have six "collectors" for your convenience. Contact the following people and they will work with you to make the easiest exchange possible.

If you live near Columbia or Myrtle Beach, SC contact Stephanie at stephaniewarrenmb@gmail.com

If you live near Clemson, SC contact Hannah at hoakley18@gmail.com.

If you live near Charleston, SC contact Claire at cwsparks@edisto.cofc.edu.

If you live near East Lansing, MI contact Amy at bicketta11@gmail.com. 

If you live near Milwaukee, WI contact Angela at stalkingsunsets@hotmail.com. 

If you live in Denver, CO or not in SC at all, contact me, Rachel at rachel.denise.sparks@gmail.com.

The projected ship date will be May 1, so if you could get your shoes to one of us by then, that would be wonderful. If you want to help but don't have any old shoes, we will gladly accept any monetary donation you are willing to give to cover shipping costs. Also, pass the word on. You never know when a stranger may want to help out but they can't if they don't even know about it! Thanks!

So, to all my friends from around the country. Let's reach across the world, and provide some shoes for these kids to run their hearts out. Just imagine the looks on their faces when they receive their new shoes. We can do it. Hop on over there and give whatever you can.

Love,
Zen Mama

Betty Friedan, Simone de Beauvoir and Me

I am still somewhat new to blogging and as such, I consider my blog a work in progress. I am hungry to learn more, to study the nuances and components of a good blog and to endeavor to make my blog appealing to my audience. Very early on, I came across an intriguing, if not addicting blog called, “Ask and Ye Shall Receive”. The domain name gives away the premise as does the cartoon character of the grim reaper residing in the corner. If you ask, you need to be prepared to suffer the consequences because they are located at “iwillfuckingtearyouapart.blogspot.com.”

The writing is magnificent; they are free to be brutally honest, wickedly blunt and constructively critical. It all works because the people they are tearing apart have asked for it. Countless bloggers dare to put themselves under this microscope of harsh scrutiny in spite of reading the disclaimers essentially telling them to bend over and grab their ankles. They ask anyway.

I’m fairly certain I must have had a few glasses of wine when I submitted my blogging for their flogging. What WAS I thinking?

It has been months since I did it. I have read all their reviews since and I had pretty much given up, thinking it must not have made the cut, thank God. I was breathing easily; imaging my impetuousness had not gotten me into trouble after all. Then it showed up – the notice that I had asked and I had received.

With my heart firmly settled in my throat, I clicked over and read the review, prepared by Madame Bellicose herself. I didn’t get shuttled off to a guest writer; I was to take my spanking from the mistress of doom, the blog’s proprietor. They have a rating system ranging from a “flaming finger” (the worst) to “four stars – I fucking love you”, (the best). Obviously, being the competitive person I am, I wanted nothing less that the full four fucking love.

Essentially, you could say I got a good review – three stars are not too shabby. She liked my writing, thought I was talented but she couldn’t go all the way with me because we differed too much in taste. Plus, my background was perceived as too busy with fairies and such. My intent to create chaos amidst the calm of a sunset was distracting. It made it difficult to read and my words were certainly worth reading. Enough said, fairies gone.

At first I didn’t recognize the person she was describing. I’m no feminist; I’m a delicate, southern lady, thank you very much. Then I read through some of my posts and I saw it. It is there, a thread that ties the entire purpose of my blog together.

It’s my blog and as all bloggers know, we start a blog for ourselves but ultimately we want others to follow us, to buy what we’re selling, to get the essence of our voice and to connect with us. I feel perhaps I was chosen to tell the stories of my life involving a lot of “Mr. Whatevers” to inspire women, to make them laugh and cry but most importantly to make them think.

I have just begun to peel off the layers of my life and as I explore the meaning of it all, I shall not walk through the valley alone. For you see, it is not just my plan to be a positive influence to women, it is my life to be constantly influenced by the positive women who inhabit it. That’s who I am. If that’s being a feminist then clear me a spot at the table.

It's 19 Degrees and I'm Hotter Than Ever

Full of good intentions, I sat down at my computer this morning to catch up on some work, pay a few bills and organize my life a bit. I've been here for a few hours now and I'm happy to report, I have done none of the above.

Instead I found myself thrust into the blogosphere, now a familiar place, reading some of my favorite bloggers - who all seem to be writing about the same thing. They are sweeping me up, summarizing the glorious drunken highs and the inevitable sobering lows of the year that was, while offering some fantastically brilliant shards of wisdom for me to ponder in the coming year.

Keeping within the spirit of my bloggy soul mates, I too shall endeavor to reiterate the year that passes before us and prognosticate the year that brings forth a new decade. 

As I write this post, I notice it is the 46th post for 2009. I am 46 years old. There's really no significance to that, just thought I'd mention it. What is significant is that in 2009, I became a blogger. I tested the water in May, creating a template and visualizing what it was I thought I had to say. I took June and July off because I was too busy being in love to be bothered with blogging.

I came back at the tail end of July with the full force and fury of a woman possessed. Don't worry, I was still in love. I have changed my template at least 56 times while writing my 46 posts. I have picked up 49 followers (c'mon, just one more today and I can close the year at an even 50) and I have "met" some seriously supportive fellow bloggers, which has been like finding an unexpected savory side dish I now want served at every meal.

Most of all, what blogging has meant to me is this.  I can now say, "I am a writer".

The other significant happenings in the life of Zen Mama 2009 would be:

Connecting with friends who were lost to me through the time warp portal known as Facebook.

Watching my children blossom into regular little people who are discovering and embracing their own God-given talents as well as their individual, unique challenges.

Completing a ten year commitment as a leader in my industry by chairing a national conference in Hawaii. Nice work, if you can get it.

Noticing I can't sneeze while standing up anymore.  Well, I can but it's not pretty or ladylike.

Growing even closer to the closest of my friends.

Entering into peri-menopause with my usual flair for "if you're gonna do something, do it up really big". Oy vey, can we talk? The emotions, the mood swings, the out of control bursts of violent, sado-masochistic urges to run people over with my car then pick them up, dust them off, hug them, kiss them, love them, then run over them again. And that's just on any given Tuesday.

Toward the end of the year, my body broke but luckily I had a good mechanic and he fixed me right up. 

Figuring out if you right click on a word that has a red underline while you are typing, you get a whole list of possibilities to correct the spelling, check the thesaurus (not that I ever would), use a different language or find a laugh. Try misspelling a word on purpose. I tried the word "robust" and was given the option of "broncobuster". That's funny shit to me. It's also significant because I'm fairly certain I was the last person in the universe to understand how to use the red-underline-right-click maneuver. I just misspelled maneuver and was offered to replace it with manure. The fun never ends.....

Speaking of fun and frivolity, I have four numbers for you 2 0 1 0. I am envisioning significance in the dawn of a new decade. Think of it as New Year's on steroids. You're not to sit there as usual, eating your black-eyed peas while planning out the next year.  Rather, you should frame up the picture of your life, as you see it, or as you want it to be for the next ten years.

If I take a look at the next decade of my life, all of my kids will be grown. I have such a short time left to either successfully equip them with the skills they need to achieve their dreams or to drive them to climb the clock tower where they will henceforth be known by their first, middle and last name. The choice is mine.  I choose option A.

I am ending my 46th post in the 46th year of my life by proclaiming the coming year and the coming decade to be whatever I damn well feel like it being. I think I shall choose to embrace my inner menopausal woman who suffers from hot flashes and define her as a brilliant, prolific writer able to influence the world, or at least her little corner of it while being hotter than ever. Even if it is frickin 19 degrees outside.

Happy New Year, Cheers and L'Chayim (pronounced using the flem in the back of your throat) to you all!

Be Gentle, It's My First

I was tickled pink to learn I had received my first ever blog award but even more elated to find it came from Monda over at No Telling. At the risk of going all "Sally Field" on you, let me just say I am honored to have someone of her caliber paying even the slightest bit of attention to me; much less, bestowing the renowned Kreativ Bogger award upon me. Talk amongst yourselves, I need a moment here.

There is so much I don't know about this macrocosm we call the blogosphere. I am a new kid in town, afraid to go out and venture too much but secretly dying to know all there is to know. There are tools and tricks of the trade, of this I am certain; however, I am equally as certain I don't know a single one of them. At present, I must simply sit and write because when I am writing, I am where I am supposed to be.

We all write for a reason or purpose. Because of this - there is a sense of community within the confines of bloggers. I picture us all sitting in an exceptionally large circle, attending our weekly meetings for BA - Bloggers Anonymous.

Hello, I am Zen Mama and I'm a blogger.

Hi Zen Mama.

I have been blogging for a few months now and I can't stop. I think about it all the time. I make lists of potential topics. I carry a notebook so I can jot down ideas when they strike. I observe people, places and even inanimate objects like never before. I can't wait until I get my next follower. Sometimes I break out in a cold sweat with mild convulsions if it's been too long between comments. I think I might be addicted.

Yes, Zen Mama - very good, you have taken the first step (applause, tears, women placing their hands over their hearts). Now let us recite the bloggers prayer, "God grant me the serenity to accept that I am a blogger, the courage to keep posting even if nobody's reading and the wisdom to never end a sentence with a preposition."

Thank you Monda for welcoming me into this community. I am out, loud and proud to be here. Here are the rules for the Kreativ Blogger award:

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting. (see below)
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they have been nominated.

The Nominees:

Robin Thomas at A Nest With A View
Sweetie Pie at Not As Sweet As I Used To Be
Queen of Quite a Lot at A Southern Belle Trying Not To Rust
Sharon at Bump In My Boob
LB at Wait, She Said What?
Carrie Chaney at Carrot Speak
Girl Interrupted at A World So Small

Seven things you might find interesting about me:

1. Electronics seem to mess up when I am near. Example: Long line in the DC Metro station, everyone swipes their Metro Pass with no incident - I swipe mine and the thing breaks.
2. I consider my good girlfriends to be family. I have kept in touch with many of them since childhood and have been fortunate to reconnect with those that were lost through Facebook.
3. I like a strong man in body, mind and spirit but I truly believe for the most part, women are the stronger sex.
4. I was raised to be a lady but have recently fallen from grace.
5. I had a near death experience 10 years ago where I actually heard and saw my deceased father. He came to tell me not to be afraid as I would not be coming with him. Spooky, huh?
6. I don't know how to swim.
7. I've been married three times but the first one didn't count. It lasted less than a year and he subsequently went to prison for murdering his bookie. Can we talk?

Okay, there you have it. I hope my nominees enjoy this award and the exercise involved as much as I did. Now I must get back to more Kreativ Blogging. Ya'll come back now, ya hear.