Hmmmmmmmm

Wadda trip! I have a million things involved with getting this book published and I'm shaking the entire time. I guess it's the 'putting yourself out there' that bugs the mess out of me. That and the fact that there's too much going on in my life right now.

Anyhow, the thing I'm wondering is why is it so hard to draw when you think about it? I usually just spit out cartoons left and right with these snappy sayings and now, sitting in front of a blank page to have illustrations for my book . . . it's weird, but I keep messing up the pictures.

ARRRRGGGGHHHH!

The Office of Motherhood

Robert has always told me to "Respect the office, not the man." We were, of course, talking about Clinton and the office of the presidency. I never understood that. In fact, I vehemently disagreed with it. It appeared to me that when one dishonors the office (as was so in his case) the office itself had become corrupted, unworthy of even common courtesy.

. . and then . .

Mom was aware of all that was around her. She couldn't verbalize it, but you could tell in her eyes that she knew - knew people, events, had a train of thought going that was connected. All weekend I was surrounded with "Darlin" and "Sweeties" and obnoxious baby talk and patronizing tones. I was encouraged to 'sleep in', 'go shopping' and 'take it easy'. It's like all this that had happened with mom was orchestrated so us sisters could all get together.

All I could think was: 'My mother is dying, and you're ushering her out with no dignity.' All of Roberts talk became instantly crystal. No matter what, she has earned your respect. No, it demands it. You must respect her position.

And all my problems with my mother were so secondary to that.

She dodged the 'death' bullet, I think. Time will tell. But she took the 'nursing home' shot full force in the chest. I have no idea what my feeling are.

?

I saw this storm approaching. About February 6th. I thought I was ready to face it.

But are you ever able to prepare yourself for a '5' tornado?

And do you ever get the feeling that God has overestimated you?

While I was at the Stables Feeding . . .

I have come to realize that consequences for actions only sleep when it appears they have been dodged.

Things happen and acts done for whatever reason give me a sigh of relief as the morning dawns and all is as it was. Birds sing. The grass still needs to be mowed, animals need to be cared for . . the wind still blows. How can anything be wrong on a day like this? The very world is ignorant of sin, and death, and pain. It's like you were duped into believing that all was well.

But God doesn't work that way. Wherever you are, there you are and God has been there the entire time. You really can't 'get away' with anything . . .

I rest in the peace of that.

See If You Can Follow Me On This One

What if what you're afraid of is exactly what you wanted but turns out to be what you only thought you wanted because hope is merciless?

What if you prayed for something and it didn't happen, and so you accepted that only to have it come back with a faint glimmer that what you prayed for IS possible?

So what happens to the new life that replaced the old? What about the acceptance you have come not only to live with but actually find peace within?

A new lanuage

At the stable, John and Alendro are trying to teach me Spanish. they take off on some wild tangent, and quiz me (in Spanish) and I fail every time. Although I can catch a word or two . . . that's all I catch. I just end up feeling stupid.

So many things coming to me at once. The more I see of life, the less I like it. And forget understanding most of it. I have come to realize that I am a true weirdo. I just don't see things the way most people do. And while that is a good thing, it also gives me an uneasy pause. I feel out of place - honestly a foreigner in a foreign land.

While learning Spanish is a good thing here in South Texas, I don't think I'm cut out to learn "Secular". Just wish I didn't walk around in this constant fog of puzzlement.

And I wish I could visting with Andy and Amy without spending all that time venting.

Brymer's Breath

Brymer has really bad breath. Ask anyone. He loves to lick and pant and it's like this rotting corpse spills out of his mouth as he does. His bark actually pushes you back, and if he licks you . . . gag! The stench adheres it'self with disgusting tenacity.

Both Brymer and Nellie sleep up on the bed with us. So I'm in bed this morning, laying on my stomach to keep the smell of Brymer from hitting me - it seems to be a little lighter than the surrounding area . . . . you can lift yourself up into the funk. So I'm laying there and I can smell him and he's close. Everywhere I turn my head, that wall of decaying poo poo is there. So I yell at him to get off the bed, and I hear his bark - outside.

It was me! It was my breath! As soon as I flopped onto my back, the stench headed up and away.

No wonder Robert won't kiss me good morning.

Heavy Sigh

I sit here, staring at my mothers hands that somehow got attached to mine, as I ponder what to write today. My hands are scarred with a thousand barbed wire cuts, and cat scratches and rips from sharp edges all on top of this 'rice-paper'-like skin that seems oddly fragile. My veins are all plump, my cuticle's ragged. The joints on my right thumb and left ring finger are stiff and refuse to bend.

It has occurred to me lately that there are fewer days ahead than behind and life has never been better. Sure, the bumps of life keep you awake, but that don't make'em a bad thing - see the blog entitled "Jackie Blows it Yet Again". Amy's home, Brymer hasn't stroked since Sunday, it's chilly outside, there's a new carrot cake in the oven . . .

Just wish I wasn't ending up with my mothers hands.

The guy who fell of the motorcycle was somehow okay. Unreal, because he hit and rolled HARD, but he was wearing all his gear.

So this is Why Jarred wants to Come Back

I told Robert that if I died in an accident, that to make sure Amy Brymer got my horse Tesster. Then, this guy in a car pushes a guy on a motorcycle in front of me, the guy flies off the motorcycle, I lock up the brakes and his motorcyle skids all the way from the old Golden Corral almost to the stop light. So I jump out of the car, into the traffic of 97 hollering at the man to just stay down while I'm dialing 911. My car is on the street, running, the guy who pushed the motorcycle is in the middle of the road, blocking traffic and the rubber neckers are going ballistic. I'm trying to make the guy chill out when I get a phone call. It's from Susie Pursch. Stoma got a call from someone who saw me and was worried about me. When I got home, there were calls from Alice Lester, The Norwoods and Curves. They all loved me enough to call.

Man. How cool is that?

Jackie Blows it Yet Again

If you're really really sick, miserable sick, and have to wait for medicine, but finally you get it and then you take it and it's bitter and gagging, but it's the cure, so you swallow it, grimacing but thankful - - -right?

So with God. While trials make me wince with pain, still, I am happy to go through them, for Christ is on the other side. I don't think I'm being dishonest by saying I welcome trials.

That was one of the things I was trying to get across yesterday, Dana. Sorry I can be so obtuse.

Brymer

My dog, Brymer, has cancer. And it didn't hit me until the doctor said that it didn't look all bad. How weird is that? I just started crying, putting my face into his black fur . . he didn't even growl.

The people reading this understand how this is affecting me. All the "It's just a dog!" remarks are not appreciated. Too much time, too much love wrapped up in that ball of black/tan/red. And the thing that keeps on slapping me is the fact that he's not 'my' dog - I'm his person. The world revolves around me . . . I must be sought for and protected above all else.

He's on antibiotics for a month and we'll see how he responds.

What Goes There?

Whenever there is a storm headed our way, I can always tell whether it's really coming, or if it's just teasing. I get these horrible headaches. They start out while the front is still a ways off, but depending on the intensity of the headache, I can tell if we'll get hit or side-swiped. Usually I take aspirin and it makes the pain whisper instead of bellow, so it's no big deal.

You ever feel there is something on the horizon, and it's not a good thing and all you can do is wait for it to arrive - - you're powerless? Once when I fell off a horse going 90mph, I remember thinking; "Man, this is gonna hurt." but there was nothing I could do to prevent myself from slamming into the ground. Powerless.

This headache has been here for a while now, and I'm afraid it has nothing to do with thunder and lightning. Whatever, it's gonna hurt. I just know it. It's still a ways off, but there's something there.

The Song Remembers When

I remember sitting in the wet heat of central Missouri when I was about 14 years old, listening to "Dream Weaver" and Boston and Styx and Heart and Chicago. As vivid as if it were an hour ago, I can feel the heat sear it's way into my stupidly exposed shoulders (but I didn't know that then). I lived through an amazing part of history . . . infamously so I think. But I didn't know that then. I was blissfully ignorant of Iran and Jimmy Carter and free love. Life was . .well, life. I simply occupied a piece of it. I never thought it worthy of memory.

The reason I bring it up is because that part of my life is so dormant 99.9% of the time. Then comes a song. And I'm back. WHAM! Like 30 years haven't gone past, like innocence hadn't died, and like my body was yet unaffected by UV rays. And it's a good thing.

If you can use your mind to travel back in time, back into a 'tangible' life . . . then I believe in time travel. I do it all the time.

Phobias

Susie Pursch thinks I am such a baby! I told her about my 3 phobias and she said that I just need to face them. In fact, she said that it was something she HAD to help me with.

But, you know, this isn't simply 'fear' we're talking about. I am almost immobilized by 1) Wide open spaces, 2) long needles and 3) Super loud noises. It's not even something I can control. I just keep clear of those situations. I guess you can say that they control me. So? Is this a big deal?

Why do you have to face things? I don't stop living because I'll never go on a cruise, I just never go on a cruise.

It's not a matter of salvation, is it?