Boy, can I talk

Last week was the industry conference where I spoke about economic development. Sounds pretty dry, I'm sure. It was not. The session was dynamic, exciting, invigorating, and just plain great. I was well-received, thankfully. Being a newcomer to this particular professional conference, I was a bit uncertain.

Fortunately, the night before the session, I'd gotten some great news about a pilot program launched in January. I was able to share our progress and next steps. I get goosebumps thinking about how exciting it is and while not revolutionary in the life-cycle of the product, it will make a meaningful difference for my state.

Other than that, not much happening. Just need to get my updated professional bio to the powers that be sometime in the next couple of weeks. Shouldn't be too difficult.

How's by you?

Obsession

I'm completely obsessed with Scrabulous. Online Scrabble play. Sure, there are other interfaces out there to play Scrabble but I am digging the one at Scrabulous. Hasbro, for good reason, doesn't have a full-fledged game available online.

Someone stop me!

Your truth or mine?

When I ask you how you feel about something, no matter how great or small, it's your responsibility to be truthful. Maybe you aren't comfortable to be truthful with me about it; that's ok, really. If you're not sure of your truth, say as much. There are few situations that require an immediate answer. Without a doubt, you surely need to be truthful with yourself.

What you don't get to do is to punish me for your inability to know what you need, what you desire, what you can tolerate. You have every right to change your mind ipso facto; if it's at all possible, we'll change course. If it's too late and the deed is done, all I can do now is know it's an issue the next time this - or similar - comes up. I can't take it back. It's out there in the ether. It's done. O, and here's that example where "can't", which usually means "won't", just means "is unable".

And now you're sulking? Taking a sharp tone with me? I was momentarily bewildered by your shift in posture until I "got it". Once I did, I was a bit irked.

Right about now, I'm frustrated. This is not a good situation for either of us. It cannot continue this way. I'm sure I'll be tasked to be the adult and work the resolution.

I didn't ask to take this journey. You wanted it. From the beginning you wanted to explore this opportunity. It sounded like fun so I clambered onto the bus. For the most part, it's been a great ride. A couple of bumps. No mechanical breakdowns. We seem to navigate the traffic well together. No surprise there, we're a good unit and the closest of friends. You are my best girlfriend, after all.

I'd just really appreciate it if you could be more honest with yourself about these things.

Pinnacle of Laziness

I'm childless. By choice or laziness, take your pick. In my 20's as my friends were aching to have babies and could hear nothing save for the droning tick-tock of their biological clocks, I heard silence. Rooms full of silence. I assumed my clock was digital and went on about my life.

I've never been a woman who had an ache to have children. It's not that I wanted to have children or didn't want to have them. I assumed I'd have kids at some point. I just never got around to it. When I met The Good Mr. he was very upfront with me that he did not want any more kids. That was fine by me and I nary gave it another thought.

Well, now the battery's been removed and the more time passes, the more I find I have a need for our grandchildren. As much as they are a joy to me, it is a bittersweet feeling to watch his children create new families and move through the 'normal' stages of life. Stages and rites of passage that are foreign to me. As much as I love them, I catch a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes when she hugs me or when I hear his clear and strong voice.

Children are miraculous. Doesn't mean I have to have one of my very own. I am good just enjoying someone else's child. I like the option of being able to give the child back to her rightful caretaker when I've reached my limit.

It's an awesome responsibility, in the truest sense of the word, to raise and guide another human being through all the stages of life. Hell, I can barely manage to keep our dogs well-behaved. People? Oy, makes my head spin...

I have tremendous respect for women who have children. I can't imagine how they do it no matter how many times I visualize all that comes with it: working, living, raising a child, sustaining a loving marriage, nurturing friendships, being a good citizen, having time for myself [and I require lots], grocery shopping, endless piles of laundry, and pursuing my own dreams. I think I'd need a Nanny, a full-time Housekeeper, a Cook, a Chauffer, a Personal Assistant and very frequent solo vacations. See, not a good match between me and motherhood.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a pretty groovy woman. I'd have been a good Mother. Albeit quite likely a very frazzled one but a good Mother nonetheless. I have much to offer. I am loving. My life experiences would guide me in parenthood, I'm sure. Patient, not so much but I guess I'd learn that by default. I'm about to get a pair of nieces so I'll just have to turn the hose on with them. I'll be a good Auntie.

The people most curious of my childlessness have always been children. It's an awkward moment when I look into the face of a child who has just asked me The Big Why. I don't have a stock answer for a youngster. One more than one occasion, I've lied. Not my proudest moments - lying to a child - but ones I've chosen nonetheless.

As one can imagine, my circumstance has created sadness for my parents. They have so desperately wanted grand-children. My Grandmother wants a great-grand-baby. She's about to get a pair of them but not from me. As her only grand-daughter, I sometimes feel I've failed her. As her only daughter's only daughter, I sometimes feel I've failed both women. My feelings of failure occasionally linger, snuggling in under the covers with me like little girls at a slumber party.

The message was always that girls grow up to be Mothers. We might also grow up to be doctors, President of the United States, scientists, lawyers [not a popular one in my family full of physicians but still an option], police officers, etc. ad nauseum. For sure, there was an underlying melody that having children makes for a complete and fulfilling life.

Ummm... ok. But I opted out. Now what?

I don't know what I'm doing here in this life... I surely haven't learned my life lessons... I've no clue what it all means except to try to do the next right thing at every opportunity. And if, at the end of my life, that's all there is... then so be it. I'm powerless to change the grand plan [if there is one].

What I know in my heart is true: I am loved. I have known great love. I have given love. I continue to seek to love deeper and wider today than I did yesterday - every today and every yesterday...

And that has made me whole despite being childless...

I wanna...

I wanna write. I've wanted to write since discovering I have a voice. Imagine not knowing one has a voice. Seems ridiculous, doesn't it?

What do writers write about? I guess here's as good a place as any to dribble the meandering thoughts in my head. A place to start. A place to figure out what I have to say at this point in my life. A place to cannoodle my mind into mush, most likely.

I've been through hell and back more than once, mostly of my own doing. Isn't there something in that abyss to spark a writing frenzy? Or at least an urge? If I don't have an urge... well... does it mean I have nothing to say? Maybe tickle a twinge? It'd be nice to figure that out once and for all.

Lord knows I've spent enough time posting to personal interest forums .... rambling .... venting... spouting my opinions. We all know what opinions are worth. Surely there's gotta be something left to say.

I guess the idea of writing publicly just seems so self-indulgent. Or to write about writing or the angst of writing.

I gotta get my act together and figure out what I can respond to in my life to get me to write.

See, navel lint. First installment of navel lint.

Looks around...

Seems comfortable enough. Nice furniture. Like the wall colour & the artwork. Ample seating. Looks to be a nice selection in the bookcase. Lighting is more than sufficient, thankfully. The Abusson is perfect. Warm. Relaxed. Not bad.

Think I'll sit here a bit and see how I like this club chair and ottoman. O, it was my Grandmother's when it was ugly [sorry Celia]. It reminds me of her even now though I've recovered them in a washed denim with leopard corded trim.

So, the question of the day must be: What the hell is dohdeeliciousness?

First off, read the sub-head: For one low, low price, you get: mental masturbation, navel contemplation, generalized kvetching, maybe some Hello Kitty or other kwaii eye candy and perhaps a titch of sundry sexiness.

Hopefully that's enough to draw you in and I'll come up with some content to make you want to stay.

I still need to figure out what I'm going to blog about, though.

In the meantime, help yourself to a seat. Maybe try over there?

Coffee's on, kettle takes but a minute to heat up, there's juice & soda in the fridge, check the liquor cabinet for any alcohol - though I'm sure there's a meager selection - and the water cooler's in the laundry room. If you'd like any snacks other than what's out, you'll have to bring your own. Hopefully, I'll be a decent hostess... we'll see.