To make a dream come true

blog0538Many years ago, I read the poem Dreams, written by Langston Hughes.  The words of this poem have stayed with me to this day:

“Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird  that cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams for when dreams go

Life is a barren field frozen with snow.”

I’ve been thinking about dreams during my day of Opportunity today.  I’m sure that all three of my grown-up children are floating along in a kind of dreamlike state,  believing their dreams have finally come true.  They all have found their true loves and a trip down the matrimonial aisle is imminent in the very near future.

Do dreams come true?  Yes, often.  We must work to make some dreams happen,  summon up the courage needed to forge forward to make them reality.   But what about the dreams we experience while we sleep? Those nighttime dreams, do they ever come true?

I dream a lot while I sleep, but I’m not much of a day-dreamer.  That practical, realist side of me usually wins the day, so instead of passing time imagining a dream world, I’m usually busy actually doing something, but often I wish I could learn to day-dream a little more.

Day dreaming seems creative and surely must give one a strong sense of escape and relaxation, which sounds good to me.  My night time dreams can give me that same sense, but there’s always the possibility of nightmares lurking in the subconscious and I’ve had my fair share of those as well.

Occasionally, I have a faint recollection that I dreamed something and can’t quite recall what it was, but for the most part I usually remember my night time dreams.  The moving pictures in my brain can be pretty zany at times making absolutely no sense at all.

Other times, they are vivid and so realistic, I awaken thinking the event actually occurred.  (Ask my husband how many times I’ve awakened angry at him for something foolish he did only in my dream!) Often, I can relate my dreams to something I’d been watching on TV, or reading, or even pondering.  Even the jumbled up, mish mash sequences that constitute my dreams can often be explained this way.

Every once in a while though, I have a dream that just seems to emerge out of nowhere.  Its source is as vague and foggy as the setting for a mystery movie might be.  When that happens, it puzzles me and one night last week, I had such a dream.

My family knows a young family who has a special needs child, a delightful, joyful little one who in her current condition cannot walk.  The family actively pursues therapy that has enabled this child to make some amazing strides from where she once was and I keep current with these milestones through Facebook (see, it is good for something!).  I know it is this family’s dream for their child to reach her fullest potential and they are working so diligently to make that happen.

I haven’t had much time lately to check out her progress on her Facebook page though.  Facebook is such a time-sucker for me.  And free time is a rare commodity right now, so I’ve been purposely staying away from this social networking media.

This blog is linked to my personal Facebook page and each time I publish a new post, it automatically shows up on my wall, so it looks like I’m on FB when really I’m not.  If I remember, I log into my blog’s FB fan page and update my posts manually there, but that’s about the extent of my Facebook interaction these days.

So, I haven’t been reading any updates on this special child’s progress as of late.  But yet, I dreamed about her.   In my oh so realistic dream, my hubby and I visited her family and were enjoying being outdoors with her mother, father, and this sweet little one.

Suddenly, this child with the million dollar smile crawled over to me.  I helped her stand up and she gave me a hug.  Her father spoke, “Oh look, she really likes you!”

And with that, this child, who can only crawl short distances, started walking on a circular sidewalk.  She walked and walked and walked while the rest of us marveled and exclaimed at the miracle we witnessed.  But that’s not all.

Suddenly, she grinned and took off running!  Round and round in circles she ran and she ran and she ran!  Freely.  And happily with strong legs and body, laughing all the way.  And we all clapped our hands and laughed with her!

Such joy.  Such indescribable joy shone on her dear little face as she ran.  And I woke up smiling and amazed at this truly unforgettable dream.  Several times a day since, this particular dream comes to my mind.  As it does, I’m reminded to continue to pray for this child and her family because this is one dream I pray really does come true.

“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”  ~ Walt Disney

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Performing for my audience of One

blogScan_20170904

A photo as faded as the dream of being famous

Flashback to the 60’s.   She is alone, upstairs in her bedroom with the door closed tightly.  Pictures of her idols, “The Monkees,” smile on her from the walls of her room.

Dressed in her most mod outfit, mini-skirt, fringed vest and go-go boots, she dances the Pony and the Jerk to spinning vinyl 45’s on her record player, belts out songs to a pretend audience of thousands but in reality just a few old  stuffed animals and forgotten baby dolls.   And she yearns for the day when she would become famous.

Her daydreams revolve around that thought.  Fame.  It would be exciting to be a famous pop star/singer, but what she truly envisions for herself is becoming a sought-after actress, known and revered by millions.  When that happens, she muses, everyone will be in awe.

Those who snubbed her now, those who didn’t want to be her friend, and those who didn’t realize she existed would clamor for her attention and she would ignore them.  And if that star-studded scenario didn’t occur, she would settle for being a famous author.

Such were the desires of an adolescent girl.   To be famous meant you were somebody, not just the average 13-year-old girl who lived a hum-drum boring existence in an average middle-class home in rural America.  When she was a famous singer/actress/writer, she thought she might occasionally return to her hometown, just to show people how important she was.

That young, teenage girl was me.  Back in the day, I had no clue what real life entailed; I thought being famous was the end all to everything.  As I grew up,  I realized that wasn’t true.

I imagine most famous people have an inborn desire to become noticed, rich or powerful.  Famous actress Katharine Hepburn once said, “When I started out, I didn’t have any desire to be an actress or to learn how to act. I just wanted to be famous.”  So evidently, she experienced that passionate desire and brought it to fruition.

Famous is something I am not.  My closest stab at being a star actress was the lead role in my high school play during my senior year.  The nearest I’ve come to being a singing sensation was performing a few solos in various church choirs and singing ensembles.  The only hints at public awareness I’ve managed in the writing world were my byline on articles I crafted in reporter days for a daily newspaper and my little blips on this blog.

Now I laugh out loud at the visions I embraced back then of performing before audiences of thousands.  Obviously, I did not embody the passion to fulfill those girlhood dreams of notoriety.   These thoughts returned to me recently when I read Dr. David Jeremiah’s book Life Wide Open – Unleashing the Power of a Passionate Life. 

As a young teen, I thought my passion was to become famous.  I wanted to be noticed and applauded by an audience.   That’s what I believed would provide a happy and fulfilled life.

How wrong I was in my youthful zealous daydreams.  Real life led me into an entirely different direction:   marriage, children, family life, enjoyable work, making the world a better place for one person at a time, and most importantly, loving and serving God.

To some, those aspects of life don’t sound very passionate, but they have been my passion all along.  And Dr. Jeremiah’s wise words reinforced what I’ve come to understand.   He wrote this in the study guide accompanying his book:

“The strength of passion is to do whatever we do heartily, and the secret of passion is that we do everything as if we were doing it for the Lord himself rather than for man.”

He continues, “Sometimes we think nobody sees the effort we make to work at our jobs, take care of our families, or serve the Lord.  Not true!  God sees it all.  We play on a field with an audience of One sitting in the stands.  And He is the only one who really matters.  He sees and knows everything we do – the motive and passion with which we live our lives.”

So even back in my foolish days, when I longed for a captive audience, I already had one.  The One.    The only One who matters.  And so do you.

Imagine as you go through your day, there He is sitting in the auditorium watching your performance, sitting in the bleachers watching you play, sitting at your conference table watching you work, sitting on your sofa listening to you talk.

He knows what you’re going through, He sees what you accomplish even when no one else notices and you are weary, and He finds pleasure in all you do for His glory.

On this 14th page in Chapter 6 of my Opportunity book, I find it inspiring to think that I might please my audience of One and that He doesn’t  care whether I’m famous or not.  I know He doesn’t want me to lose heart while I serve Him in the big things and the small.  I hope you feel the same.

“Your life is your message to the world.  Make it inspiring.” ~  Lorrin L. Lee

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Such stuff as dreams are made of

blogengagement1I have a feeling my middle daughter had a tough time falling asleep last night.

I’m pretty certain she was too excited, wound up, happy, thrilled – the list could continue until I run out of adjectives – to let the Sandman visit her.

Why?  I’ll let Dr. Seuss explain: “When you are in love you can’t fall asleep because reality is better than your dreams.”

Yesterday, my middle daughter’s dream became reality.  That grown up young woman of 25, who has her own place, career and life but in my mind is still my joyful little girl, experienced a monumental day.

Her daddy and I wonder how all those years vaporized away so swiftly.  How did we get to this empty nest stage when just yesterday (or so it seems) our house was full of youngsters and toys and noise?  We blinked and our children became adults.

And now one of them is taking an even deeper step into adulthood.  Our daughter became engaged yesterday!

The engagement wasn’t a surprise for us because her beloved one had already visited alone to formally ask for our daughter’s hand in marriage and our blessing before he even purchased the ring.   Yes, he’s THAT wonderful!

We could tell he had spent much time in thought and prayer about this decision and he willingly shared his plan for how he would provide for their future together.

So after the blessing was given, he bought the ring and kept all of that a secret from her until yesterday when he proposed at one of their favorite outdoor spots.   Daughter thought they were going to be models for a friend’s photography session there, so the proposal is caught on film for us to see.

A lot of emotions are swirling around in my heart and mind.  Joy.  For certain!  Excitement.  Definitely!  Happiness.  For her and him, the betrothed, and for both of our families!  He already has fit into our family so well.  (Gasp! I’m going to be a mother-in-law!!)  She will be a sweet addition to his family. (Gasp! My daughter will have a mother-in-law!!)

But there’s just a tiny hint of melancholy floating around my heart too because my little girl really IS grown up, ready to embark on a life together with her beloved one.

And that is exactly how it should be according to my guidebook, the Bible:  “Haven’t you read,” he replied, “that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’? So they are no longer two, but one.  Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” ~ Matthew 19:4-6

Woven into my tapestry of joy today on Page 9, Chapter 4, in my book of Opportunity is a tiny thread of melancholy as we begin another life journey, preparing for our daughter’s marriage.  We have more than a year to work on it though.

And I’m gaining another son!  And the possibility of grandchildren!  So I know the threads of joy will crowd out and overlap that twinge.  But for now, I think I’ll go have a good cry.

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Just me and my subliminal messages

blogDSCN7181Picture this scene.  Empty nest Mama tooling down the highway in her vehicle in Chapter Two, Page 18, of her Opportunity book. 

Bright sunshine-filled day.  White fluffy clouds in the sky.  Temperature hovering near the 60 degree mark.

The snowy landscape that has greeted her for the last three months vanished.   It’s so warm inside the car, she cracks open her window  and smells the delightful fresh air.

“Spring is coming!” she happily thinks.

And then she realizes she’s been humming the tune, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas!”

Whoa.  Back up the truck.  Whaat??  This actually happened to me yesterday when I drove to my hair stylist’s salon for a much needed hair cut on a very spring-like day.  I realized I had been singing a Christmas song in my head for much of the trip, which made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.

And then the proverbial light bulb came on.  At one point along my way, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a scene that must have prompted the Christmas music CD in my brain to switch on.

Way back at Christmas time, a house not far from mine exhibited a massive Christmas display of lights and a horde of those gigantic blow up decorations, probably at least a dozen or so.   Yesterday for some reason, every one of those gargantuan yuletide greetings was blown up and I caught a glimpse of them as I passed by.

I guess I can chalk it up to subliminal messages – you know those images your conscious brain ignores but your subconscious supposedly perceives since your conscious mind doesn’t have time to rationalize or analyze the message.

Makes sense.  Evidently, my brain couldn’t rationalize a fleeting image of Christmas decorations inflated and ablaze in the middle of a warm, spring-like February day, so my subconscious latched onto the visual image and voilà , cue the Christmas music!

My subconscious mind is a crazy place, I’ve decided.  I am a dreamer.  By that, I mean I dream voraciously at night while I sleep.  I know this because I remember my dreams often and vividly.  And let me tell you, some of my dreams are whoppers!

I once met someone who credited dreams with vast spiritual meaning, so much so that she often consulted with a dream interpreter.  No kidding, this person would call her dream guide, long-distance no less, to ask what her dreams meant.  She must have programmed the interpreter on her phone’s speed dial because she consulted with her all the time.

My dreams are often wacky, disjointed tales, but if I think long enough and hard enough, I can usually decipher why my subconscious mind spews a bunch of strange ideas out and links them into a bizarrely woven dream tapestry.   For example, one night my dream entailed an extremely realistic image of two dogs really going after one another, engaged in a terrible fight.

Before I went to bed, I was engulfed in a book, while hubby watched a World War II movie on TV.  One particular scene portrayed an air battle – you guessed it – which was called a “dog fight.”  Even though I wasn’t watching the movie, my subconscious picked up the words “dog fight” and literally turned it into an image of two dogs attacking each other in my dream.

To further illustrate my point, I used to dream about having a house full of empty rooms.  I would be distressed in the dream and would wander from room to room trying to decide how to fill the void.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist or a dream interpreter, for that matter, to figure out that my brain was trying to help me deal with my soon to be empty nest.

So honestly, I don’t put too much stock into someone who “interprets” dreams for other people, (unless your name is Joseph and your story is told in Genesis in the Bible) which brings me back to my story of the person who employed such a “consultant.”  Once I casually mentioned to this person that I had a strange dream the previous night.

This lady perked up when I mentioned the word “dream.”  (First red flag.)  She asked me to tell her my dream and was extremely interested in the details.  (Second red flag.)  Later that day, she actually called me to ask me if she could relate my dream to her “dream consultant.”  (Third red flag.)

And rather than giving a polite no thank you, I was so caught off-guard that I think I said, “Um…sure…I guess so.”   In no time at all, this woman called me back to inform me that the dream weaver, who had never met me, (can I just say thank goodness here?) had indeed interpreted my dream.

I listened.  I managed a polite “Thanks for telling me.”  Then I hung up the phone and laughed.  Out loud.  For a long time.

For every image that appeared in my dream, the dream lady had a deep spiritual meaning to impart to me.  “Okay, whatever,” I thought.  After all, God does give people dreams, just check out the Bible.

But the part that cracked me up was when she attributed the most spiritual significance to one part of my dream, which was going down to my basement and retrieving a container full of old flatware that my dad gave me.   Today, I don’t even remember what all she said about this part of my dream, something about the “silver your heavenly Father has for you, which you must dig down deep into your soul to find.”

Now I am all about the fact that our good and gracious God can and does bestow gifts upon us.  Truly I believe that, but the reason why I guffawed so loudly is because at the time I dreamed this dream, guess what really existed in my basement?  An old tin container of eating utensils from my parents’ camp, left behind items my earthly Dad had given to me when he sold the camp after my mom passed away.

An actual old beat-up bunch of flatware gathering dust crept into my dreams because I was puzzling over whether to keep it or give it away to Goodwill.   Of course, the dream weaver had no way of knowing that, but she sure spun a good yarn.

She and my subconscious mind would probably get along just fine.

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

When life throws you a curve ball

cold-snow-black-and-white-road.jpgIt’s Saturday, but it feels like Sunday.  You ever have one of those days that you just don’t know what to do with yourself?

All’s quiet in the empty nest today.  Bizarre, wacky dreams prevented me from awakening early this morning.

Instead of seizing the day, I drifted along in that deep sleep state where you’re cognizant that you need to get out of bed, but you keep getting sucked back into dreamland.  It’s like you’re in a dream maze and you can’t find your way out!

I compare it to being heavily sedated for an operation. The first time I had major surgery, I was zonked out in the recovery room afterwards and I could hear someone faintly calling my name.  It seemed like I was in the depths of the ocean and every time I heard my name, I tried to swim up to the surface, but I just couldn’t break the water’s hold on me.

So today, my Page 15, Chapter One, in my book of Opportunity (January 15) started out in a strange way.  I couldn’t shake the bizarre dreams I encountered – no doubt some anxiety (which I’ve managed to push away during the day) over our circumstances is emerging in my dreams.  After breakfast, hubby and I ran some errands and picked up a few groceries.

Nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, so we came back home.  To a hushed house.  A clean house.  A house nestling in what looks like a snow globe.  A house that used to ring with laughter and activity.  A house that now echoes silence.

What to do? What to do?  I’m feeling a little antsy but can’t claim cabin fever, because in our neck of the woods, we’re not snow-bound.  Hubby must be feeling it as well.  He abandoned his book for a go at his work bench in the basement.

What’s he doing?  Arranging tools?  Taking something apart?  At least now there is audible sound –  clanking, banging and shuffling.  Kitty cat is curled up in a snug as a bug in a rug ball on the love seat, sleeping away the day as she always does.

What I’m experiencing is extremely rare – just sitting in my favorite chair on a Saturday afternoon with nothing pressing on my to-do list!  I feel like I’m just waiting…for what?  For more snow?  For my kids to burst in the door laughing and teasing each other?  For the other shoe to drop?

I don’t know.  I feel no impetus to start a project, so I just turn on the lap-top, browse around some blogs, enlighten myself with email, and end up fiddling around on Facebook.

John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans.”  Well today, it seems I have no plans, but life still happens.  The plans we’ve made for this time in our lives have been altered.  I have no clue what lies ahead of us.

But just for today, this odd-feeling day when I’m experiencing restlessness and uncertainty, I’ve received encouragement from others.  And if you, my reader, are encountering a day like I am, my hope is to share some inspiration with you.

Here’s some insight I gained from a Facebook friend’s status today.  “Falling down is part of LIFE.  Getting back up is LIVING.”

I’m not ready to say, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”  Are you?  Life may throw me a curve ball and I could even strike out at the plate and land on my backside, but that curve ball won’t keep me down.

A new but very dear friend emailed this to me today: “Although you’ve talked about fear, you haven’t really shown any fear or worry or stress, even though it must be a constant factor/fight in your days… but you are a picture of stalwart faith.  I know it can’t be easy.  You have given me inspiration to be more like the Rock to which we all hold on to.”

Well, I don’t feel like a picture of stalwart faith, but I’m not a wallower.  I will persevere and I will rely on God to give me strength to do so.  Will you?

And yet another friend posted this on Facebook – “As long as you’re holding on to the past, you’ll never experience God’s best. Know that God is still in control of your life. If you’ll let go of the old, God has promised He will bring you a new beginning.”

So just as He promised, tomorrow is another day, another beginning.  Are you ready to start over?  I am!

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Breaking out of fear prison

blogDSCN7151Fear snaked its way through my mind, wrapped itself around my subconscious and then seized my dreams like a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of its prey.

If that sounds ugly, it was.   Last night, in the middle of the night, I awakened from nightmares that gripped me with such fear that I found myself sweat-drenched and panic-stricken, my heart pounding wildly.

Three times I rose from my bed and tried to calm my overly stimulated and anxiety-stricken mind, but each time I tried to lie back down again and go back to sleep, panic would overwhelm me.  Only fervent prayer proved to eradicate the foreboding feeling that gripped me.

The late President Franklin D. Roosevelt said it all when he said, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Fear can be such an overwhelming emotion, one that paralyzes you and imprisons you as surely as being placed behind steel bars.

When I was a child, I was frightened of the dark, especially if I had to walk somewhere alone in it, but I eventually overcame that fear.  As an adult, I can recall a few times when trepidation seized me with such sharpness, it physically hurt.

When we lived in the Midwest, news circulated about a stalker of sorts who telephoned women when their husbands were away, telling them details of their personal life that he knew.   My husband traveled a lot for business and also at the time served in the National Guard.  One weekend he was away on Guard maneuvers and I attended a friend’s bridal shower.

My teenage babysitter called me there, fear dripping from her shaking voice, as she claimed an unidentified man had just called our home, thinking she was me and telling her he knew my husband was out-of-town.  Terrified, she observed a man walking through the wooded area directly behind our house.

I called the police and hurried home.  By then, the man was gone, but the officers took info from the babysitter and told me if he phoned again to be sure to call them.

That night felt like the longest night of my life.  My three young children knew little about what had transpired that day and I wanted to keep it that way.  After I bathed them and got them settled into bed, I was alone and that’s when terror crept its way into my thoughts.

I didn’t sleep that night, I cringed in my bed with a wooden ball bat gripped in my hands and every little creak or snap that I heard startled me and sent my heart racing.  And I prayed for God to protect my children and myself.

My cancer diagnosis five years ago caused the same kind of dread to well up within me.  Someone once said, “Feed your faith and your fears will starve to death.” I have found that statement to be true because when I devoted myself to prayer and allowed other believers in Christ to pray over me, that overwhelming fear was dispelled.  I literally experienced that feeling physically leave my body and I was able to rationally face the ordeal ahead of me.

Currently, my family is facing some uncertainties.  I’m sure that’s why my sleep was disturbed by nightmares and my concerns turned to great apprehension last night.

The 12th page of Chapter One (January 12th) in my book of Opportunity finds me refusing to allow fear and consternation cage me in a terror-filled prison.  So I will hand over my worries and concerns to God, who is big enough, powerful enough, and almighty enough to handle them for me.  Faith breaks open the prison bars that try to keep us locked in a state of panic.

“There is much in the world to make us afraid.  There is much more in our faith to make us unafraid.” ~Frederick W. Cropp

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Home Sweet Home, Part I

pexels-photo-355722.jpeg[Blogger’s Note: You might like to read yesterday’s post “Who Am I” before you begin my series, Home Sweet Home.  The earlier post explains why I chose to write this series.]

In the last few months, my dreams have been consumed with either homes in which I have previously lived or my childhood home.There’s an old saying, “Home is where the heart is.”  I’ve been wrestling with the concept of “home” lately.

In the span of a week’s time, I probably dream about home three or four times, and those are the dreams I remember.  The perplexing part about this is I am home.

Here’s how Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia, defines home:  “A home is a place of refuge, comfort.  It is usually a place in which an individual or a family can rest and be able to store personal property…As an alternative to the definition of “home” as a physical locale, home may be perceived to have no physical definition — instead, home may relate to a mental or emotional state of refuge or comfort.  There are certain cultures in which members lack permanent homes, such as with nomadic people.” 

You could hardly call my family nomadic, but we did endure a few years of wandering to different parts of our country due to my husband’s job relocations.  Over a decade ago though, we moved back to my hometown area.  Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist John Ed Pearce once wrote, “Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.”  That sums it up quite nicely for me.

After our marriage, my husband and I resided in a southwestern state where he was stationed in the military.  Moving away from home back then was an exciting adventure.  Newlyweds striking out on our own, we attached a small U-Haul trailer to hubby’s car and filled it with our pristine wedding gifts and a few other belongings to drive half-way across the country.

We located a furnished (didn’t worry about such things as bed bugs!) one-bedroom apartment.  We were blessed to have family (my oldest sister’s family) live about two hours away from us, but it still wasn’t home.

The broad expanse of never-ending plains with few trees, fewer hills, scrub brush, and cactus proved foreign to us.  The heat and unrelenting sun driving up temperatures up to triple digits for much of the summer, dust storms and threats of tornadoes, sightings of armadillos, scorpions, and tarantulas didn’t comply with my view of home either, but we were newlyweds living out a new escapade.

We placed our names on the military post housing list and waited for a unit to become available.  By that time we had acquired some furniture, were settled into our jobs, and felt prepared for our first house, even though it wasn’t our house.

We excitedly moved into officer’s quarters on post where we had plenty of space for the two of us and our cat.  Hubby gained a small yard to mow, his first experience at lawn maintenance since he grew up in a city row house without a blade of grass in his “yard.”  The house, of course, belonged to Uncle Sam, so it didn’t really feel like home.  Home remained that place from where I came.

After a few years, hubby received orders for an unaccompanied tour to a foreign country and shortly afterwards, we discovered we were going to be parents for the first time.  The thought of bringing our first child into the world alone made me pine for home all the more.  So I moved back with my parents while hubby flew to the other side of the world for an entire year.  Home became more entrenched in my heart since that’s where our first child, oldest daughter, was born.

Back to the southwest we migrated again when hubby returned from his tour of duty.  We lodged in temporary housing until a house on post became available for us.  This time, we only lived there for one year.

And even though we celebrated our daughter’s  first birthday and Christmas reunited as a family there and we were blessed with great friends, neighbors, and the community camaraderie military life provides, I still couldn’t call it home.

Another journey awaited our little family – hubby, oldest daughter, and me – as we set out for a new home and left military life behind.

[This post is the first in a four-part series.  Please check back tomorrow for the next installment.]

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

I wanna be a daydream believer!

blogDSCN6480Today my friend/co-worker and I were discussing vacation, or I really should say the lack of one.  

It’s summer,  it’s vacation time, and it seems everyone is chatting happily about planning a vacation or going on one and rightly so….except the two of us evidently.

So as I ate my measly lunch, which consisted of a container of peach low-fat yogurt, a package of peanut butter crackers —  yeah, those orange ones — and a glass of water, we were whining, (just a little) about this void in our lives.   You see, our boss is on vacation, so that prompted this discourse.

In my friend’s case, she is in the throes of planning her daughter’s wedding for this fall and you know what that means, no money for vacation.   Regarding my vacation-less state, it’s because my hubby started a new job this past year and alas, no time off yet.

I was lamenting the fact that my grown up children have recently vacationed and darn it, one of them is right now enjoying a week at the beach!  And heck, even my hairdresser was jaunting off to the balmy shores after she finished my hair cut last Saturday!  Waaahhh!  Poor me!

So my friend turned to me and asked me this thought-provoking question, “So if you could take a dream vacation, where would you go?”

Aha, put your money where your whiney mouth is.  And I sat there and I thought.   And I thought and I sat.   And I sat and I thought some more.

“Ummm……..,” I answered so intelligently.  So you’ve figured it out by now, I didn’t really have a good answer.   I did manage to mumble something about a place to totally relax, not have an agenda to adhere to, probably at a beach somewhere…..blah, blah, blah.  And my friend agreed with me and added,  “And lots of money to spend.”

Dream vacation?????  Why didn’t I have an amazingly exciting answer for that?!  Like some faraway and exotic place….Figi?  I dunno.   Safari in Africa?  I dunno.  Australia?  I dunno.   Hawaii?  I dunno!!

You know what the problem is?  I’m not a dreamer.  Oh, I dream prolifically at night while I’m sleeping.  And sometimes those dreams are wildly creative and exciting.  But daydream, not so much.

I don’t think I like that about myself.  I’m way too practical.  And economical.   Looking back at my younger days, I don’t ever remember one time when my mother threw up her hands and shouted, “Stop that daydreaming and get something done!”  Maybe she should have exclaimed, “Stop that getting something done and do some daydreaming!”

It’s not that I don’t want to be a daydream believer like sleepy Jean in the Monkees’ song.  I just don’t seem to be able to daydream.

So do I secretly have a dream vacation spot that I just don’t want to disclose? No.  Can I think of one?  No, not really.  It’s like asking me what is my favorite (you fill in the blanks).   Chances are I can tell you what I don’t like, but I can’t tell you what is my favorite.   Favorite food?  I dunno.  Food is food.  Favorite animal?  I dunno.  I have a cat.  Favorite song?  Hmmm…. I like a lot of music.  Favorite color?  I like yellow, but I like blue too.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?  I think I need a vacation!!!!!!

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Dream a Little Dream With Me

pexels-photo-101523.jpegMonday, 27 February 2006

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! 

Do you dream REALLY weird dreams like me? I know punky (my oldest daughter) does and she is just wacky enough to document her dreams for eternity by keeping a dream journal of sorts.  I could do that, but some of my dreams are the kind of thing you just don’t want to remember. 

Like I just dreamed recently that I was dead….ok, that is weirder than weird, not to mention just plain freaky!!!   I mean, who does that?  Who dreams they are dead?????!!!!  Then a couple of nights ago, I dreamed  I let a tiger in the house… yes, a tiger, which I promptly decided to pet and then scratch its belly.  And if that wasn’t enough, I then let a mountain lion in too. 

What the heck, where were the bears???  Did they not want to come into my house to get petted?  Were they boycotting my house?  Do bears just not like me? Do I not have a bear-attracting kind of personality? What’s up with that?

Then last night, I dreamed there was an empty room in my house…yeah an empty room with really ugly blue carpeting.  And when I say empty, I do mean there was absolutely nothing in the room except the aforementioned carpet. 

So I was going hither and yon in my house trying to find something to put in the empty room.  Finally I decided to make it an office….with a computer and a desk and I don’t know what else because right then, the alarm went off.

Wouldn’t some thick glasses wearing psychologist-type person with a goatee have a field day with me?  Like maybe he would tell me I’m suffering from the soon to be empty nest syndrome so I will probably fill up my household with wild animals to fill the void, ya know, animals that could kill me….yeah, I think that’s what it means…what do you think?

©2006 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Comments (3)

Maybe you let all those wild animals in so they could make out with Callie. You know she totally would do it, too.  And hey! What’s this business about “empty nest syndrome?” What am I, chopped liver?!? –3.2.2006  sunflower

Thank you for your comments. I have another recital coming up at the end of April, and I haven’t yet decided what I’m going to play. I don’t know if I should go with an easy classical piece or something more contemporary. I was thinking about Mandy Moore’s Only Hope. It’s a really pretty song on the piano. And it doesn’t look too bad. Any suggestions? –3/3/2006 12:39 PM Dorkwad

I’ve chosen a song. I chose the theme from the movie Love Story. It’s beautiful, and it’s going to be a big challenge for me. –3.8.2006 Dorkwad