The Funk...and Then Some

Sometimes I get in a funk. Sometimes I know why. And sometimes I don't. But it's there just the same, gnawing away at my insides, leaving me unmotivated, uninterested, and generally feeling...funkified.

I have an acronym to go with this idea. I made it up one day. Impressive, I know.

This is it:

PSFS.
Short for Post-Stress Funkification Syndrome.

It happens after long periods of stress subside,
Or when people you know move away, 
Or when you've had company for a week and a half and even though you're a little glad they've gone you feel a little empty, 
Or after the holidays you worked so hard for are over, 
Or when your last child moves out of the house and you find the quiet walls shouting at you,
Or when you lose love, or a loved one, and you are so busy with all the losing details that you don't get a chance to feel the pain till everything is quiet, and it is winter, and you miss them so much.

In my world, that is Post-Stress Funkification Syndrome.

I have experienced this kind of funk a few times over. In very real and profound ways. And I continue to be a little surprised by how it hurts. It is different than just about any kind of pain I know. It is not your average every day funk that is bettered by a good pedicure or a box of chocolates. No, this is the kind of funk that requires much more.

It requires attention. And care.

I especially remember feeling this after my mother passed away. It was November, just before Thanksgiving. Road trips, funeral arrangements, family gatherings, preparation for the holidays, and life took over all of the space for feeling.


And before I knew it, it was January. Cold, harsh, dark, and empty.
And vividly mirrored by my heart and soul. Deep aching feelings that would not be ignored.

I have learned that usually there is only one way for me to effectively manage PSFS.
It is to "Face the Funk". 
Look it squarely in the face and let it be what it is. 
Cry, scream, throw stuff (but only soft stuff like pillows), lock yourself away, indulge, wallow. 
Feel.

And then stand.

And try again the things you used to love.
And surround yourself with those who can move you forward. 
And try to push through every day.
And when that is not enough, start the process all over again.

What I have learned is that
there is cleansing in the feeling,
repair in the standing,
and building in the pushing.

Sometimes this takes longer than others.
Sometimes it takes going through the process again and again. 
And invariably it is very hard work.

But always, if I allow, it leaves me better than I once was.

Life was not meant to simple,
or easy, 
or neat. 
It was meant to grow us in ways we cannot grow ourselves.

So I will embrace the fertile growing ground that PSFS has to offer.
And then rejoice when it has passed.

Friday Photos - Recital!

Today is Friday Photos. And by photos I mean video. Because video is really just a bunch of photos all smashed together, right?

But first you should know that sometimes I am the luckiest girl alive. It is fall and at our house that means piano adjudication time. Two big events right in row. And one of them is a big State competition. So our very gracious (and perky!) piano teacher plans a practice recital to help the students prepare to be in front of the judges. And last night was practice recital night.

Okay, if you've ever been to a piano recital (especially a practice piano recital) you might think I'm making up that luckiest girl alive part. But I'm not. Because I get to listen to music like this every. single. day. And then share it with you.

So sit back and enjoy Little Man playing Norman Dello Joio's Piano Suite IV. 

But beware. It sounds a little like barely organized chaos. Maybe that's why I like it. It's kind of like my life.

Have a Fabulous Friday!

PS. Here's a little hint. If you click on the YouTube icon in the box you can watch this vid on YouTube. 

And then make it full screen. And then see his hands reflecting in the piano. 

Aaaa! It makes a girl crazy! In a good way.

September is Sunflowers

I like flowers. 

Especially when they are freshly cut and come in a vase for my kitchen or bedside table. 

The reasons for this should be perfectly clear, right? 

I mean, you don't have to plant them, or water them, or prune them. 

Or kill them. 

They just die on their own like they're supposed to. 

There are no unrealistic expectations for cut flowers. 

Or for me and my inability to keep plants and small children alive at the same time. 

And bonus!! They are beautiful and bursting with cheeriness! 

One day I thought it would be fun to come up my very own Flower of the Month Club. 

You know, for when I live in a mansion with a butler. 

And a personal chef. 

And my own full-size gym, equipped with a very attractive personal trainer. 

When I get flowers in a vase for my kitchen or bedside table delivered to my door several times a month. 

Some of these were really easy to figure out.

Like April, August, and November. 

But I had a lot of trouble with others.

Like October, January and February. 

For a full year I paid attention to every kind of flower everywhere, as I tried to finish my own game. 

(Obsessive. I know.) 

September was one of those months that started out being hard to find a flower for. 

Until one day, on a run, I rounded a corner and saw man sprinting up the trail with a big bouquet of sunflowers. 

I was surprised to see that they were not cut. 

Instead they had been dug from the earth. 

And their dirty roots were flailing in the wind. 

I have no idea where he got these flowers. 

I don't usually take time to dig up flowers while I'm on my morning run.

But apparently he did. And he was grinning ear to ear about it. 

So were the flowers. 

And that's when I decided it...

September is Sunflowers.

That was a year ago. 

It's September again and sunflowers are growing wild just about everywhere I turn. 

I have been watching them very closely. 

And they are truly remarkable! 

You should know why...

Even at a time when the change of seasons can bring damaging winds or hail... 

     they stand strong. 

If temperatures dive to thirty-five degrees or rise to ninety-five degrees...

      they stand strong. 

When it rains too much or doesn't rain at all...

      they stand strong. 

They are bright. 

They are cheerful. 

They are beautiful. 

And as summer closes, fall settles, and winter approaches, they are hopeful.

      They are everything I want to be.

I have not cut any sunflowers for my table. 

I thought I wanted to, but every time I have tried, something deep inside cries resistance. 

So instead, I have quietly watched them thrive.

      And be all that they were meant to be.

Soon it will turn cold. Too cold even for sunflowers. 

But I know another September will come. 

And when next summer leans into fall, 

Instead of lamenting, I will rejoice.

Because...

September is Sunflowers. 

Friday Photos - Come Sail Away

Warning: This is more like a picture book than a picture blog. 

I'm just sayin'...

I kind of like the idea of sailing away. It sounds romantic, idyllic, and breezy. With extra e's like this... Breeeeezy.

The other day I went sailing with a batch of boys. I wasn't going to go at first. I thought my plan to stay at home and wallow in a puddle of self-pity while trying to watch my iPhone come back to life was perfectly acceptable. But I was gently persuaded otherwise. So I headed to the lake with the boys.

You should know that one of the best parts about being me is my people. And by people I mean my across the street neighbor who has a racing sailboat that is gracious enough to host a bunch of Boy Scouts for an afternoon.

And if you've ever hosted a bunch of Boy Scouts for an afternoon you know just how gracious this is.

I took my camera to the lake. After the iPhone plunge you have to understand what a gamble this was.
Because the only thing worse than seeing my iPhone at the bottom of a toilet would be seeing my camera at the bottom of a lake. So I kept a death grip on it the entire time. The good news is that death grips make for some nice, clear, well-focused pictures.

And today I'm going to share.

Let me introduce you to our fearless crew of boys and men. Well, actually a fearless crew of just boys. In big and not-quite-as-big bodies. The Boys.

This is Captain Cook, across the street neighbor and sailor extraordinaire. 

He wears this boyish grin just especially for his sailboat.

This is The Man, leader of the not-quite-as-big-boys, organizer of sailing adventure.

And gentle persuader of self-pity wallower.

This is Ty Man, other leader of the not-quite-as-big-boys. They think he's cool. 

He thinks he's cool, too. 

; )

This is Boy James, poser for dramatic photos. 

And evidence that not-quite-as-big-boys is sometimes a loose term.

This is Boy Chaz, with the most excellent hair. 

He's quiet and unassuming. But works hard. 

It's a nice combo. Especially with the hair.

This the The Little Man.

 Trying to take a page (or two!) from Ty Man's Book of Cool.

And this is Boy Hunter, who thought that when we said "sailing", we meant "parasailing". 

Which might explain the pensive look.

This is how the day went.

First it was warm and sunny. Like this...

Then it was cold and rainy. Like this...

The boys took turns warming up in the cabin. And eating chips.

My camera and I stayed warm in the cabin. Taking pictures. And eating chips. 

Then it was still and calm. Like this...

The Boys raised the spinnaker sail. I like how that sounds. Spinnaker sail. Spinnnn-na-ker. Sail. 

The spinnaker sail has a name. 

Bob. 

And we listened to Bob Marley when the spinnaker was up. 

Everything is better with Bob Marley. And Bob. 

Bob looks like this...

The Boys told stories...

And posed for some relaxed shots...

We danced. We sang. It was beautiful.

Then a big wind came up. And the spinnaker sail came down. The Boys had to work hard! 

I'm not gonna lie, my favorite part of this was Captain Cook yelling out, "C'MON GIRLS!!! LET'S GO, LET'S GO, LET'S GO, LET'S GO!!!", as they tried to work this out in the gustiness. 

And with that encouragement they were able to accomplish in 4.5 minutes what it takes his race team 30 seconds to do. It was magical!

We raced some friends.

And won. Of course.

I took pictures of some birds... 

They are pelicans. 

And learned that I find the intricacies of a sailboat to be very fascinating. 

Especially All. Those. Ropes!

By now it was super calm and getting late. So we sailed back to the docks...

The Boys put away the sails...

And I took pics. 

Of this...

and this...

and this...

Look closer...

Yes, this is a flotation device. Attached to a boat. It warns, "Not Intended To Be Fastened To A Boat". 

And, "Do Not Dry Clean". 

Really? It reminds me of my curling iron that warns, "Do Not Use While Sleeping". 

One last parting shot of the crew. The Boys.

And we drove away into the sunset.

The Boys learned that sailing is hard work. And probably really not that romantic or idyllic unless you hire a crew to do the work for you. Like in the movies.

I learned that sailing really is that breeeeezy. Like in the movies. 

And The Man was right. If you get the chance to sail, wallowing can wait.

Thank you, Captain Cook, for a terrific time! We'll sail away with you any day. : )

Happy Weekend!

Ode to the Apple Store

Ode, oh Apple Store,
For it is you who would show compassion at the sign of distress,
And relieve the addicted and lost.

Ode, oh Apple Store,
For it is you who understands the importance of calendars, and contacts, and apps,
And seeks to restore, renew, or replace.

Ode, oh Apple Store,
For it is your Genius Bar Man that searches for corrosion and today found none,
Even where there should have been.

Ode, oh Genius Bar Man,
For it is you who checked our records and took note that we do not abuse our precious electronicals,
That toilet plunges are not typical.

You offered solutions, you offered hope,
You extended a first-time mercy,
And replaced my beloved iPhone.

Oh, Apple Store, this ode for you.
For today it was you and your Genius Bar Man
Who made the world a better place.

This ode for you, and a photo
Oh, Apple Store, and Genius Bar Man,
And iPhone addicts everywhere.

Has there been ever in phone history a sweeter sight than this?

Friday Photos

It's Friday.
Friday after Thursday.
Friday after Thursday that my iPhone took a dive and left me stranded without my life.

This morning it was buzzing at me from the bag of rice. A pathetic little buzz. The kind of buzz that lets you know it's alive, but not living. I took it out of the bag of rice and it is just that. Alive. But not living. I put it back in the bag.

I'm choosing to think of the bag of rice as life support till it can breathe on its own. And that the phone is not really dead, just comatose. This gives me hope for a better day. Hopefully, tomorrow.

In the meantime, here are a few Friday Photos for you to enjoy. And this series has a name.

"Don't Let This Happen to You"

Okay. So I'm all about heels. I love them. They are a very important part of my height to weight ratio. 

And this really does matter to me. 

But there is a time. And a place. And a color.

At Fair St. Louis? Probably not the time. Or the place. Or the color. I'm just sayin'. 

Not that the heels are the worst of her problems....

 Alright, I could give this guy credit for trying to demonstrate a little American Spirit. But, um...ew. 

Would the amount of credit ever match the infinite amount of things that are wrong with this picture? 

I think not. 

And I'm talking about subject matter here. Not the photography. 

This may look innocent enough. Well, actually not really. 

But here is the thing you should know about this pic. 

It was snapped near the beginning of a half marathon. In 80 degree weather. 

Trust me. I would not want to see what these costumes look like at the end of the race! 

And if we're being completely honest here, does this seem like a good race day option? 

Not even in 40 degree weather.

And we'll end with my personal favorite. Mostly because I know and adore this person. 

And obviously, there is a story here. This is it.

Once upon a time a boy went tubing with a bunch of other boys. 

And a girl. 

While taking his turn on the tube he began to feel his swim trunks sliding down his legs. 

He screamed! Like a girl. Ack! 

He let go of the rope. And retrieved his swim trunks just before they were gone forever. Phew! 

And then he put them back on. 

Inside out. And backwards.

But he didn't know they were inside out and backwards. 

Till he was back on the boat with a bunch of other boys. 

And a girl. 

The End.

Here's wishing you a Fabulous Friday and a Wonderful Weekend! 

And remember...from the heels to the swim trunks, please, Don't Let This Happen To You!
And mostly I am talking about my iPhone. Still in its bag of rice.

Addictions

You should know that as I write this I am eating a bowl of Ben & Jerry's Late Night Snack. 

It is not late night. Nor is it a snack. It's more like lunch. Late lunch.

The good news is that I have downgraded from consuming the entire pint in one sitting. 

And after days of feeling completely uninspired to blog I finally have a post that can write itself.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Addictions.

Alright. Go ahead and admit it. We all have them, right? And for some of us, not just a few.
I have one. And everyone around here knows what it is.

My iPhone.

True. Blue. Addiction.

And if you have an iPhone you know what I'm saying here.

But it's not just an addiction, it is my life. In a very, very lovely 4.5 inch by 2.31 inch by 0.37 inch package.
It pretty much does everything but wash the dishes and take out the trash. Which is about all a girl could ever want, right? So it stands to reason that it goes with me everywhere.

Well, today my iPhone accompanied me to the doctor's office.
This was super great for keeping me distracted while I waited in the exam room for the doctor to show up.
But as soon as he walked in the door it was all downhill.

First, I didn't have a chance to put the phone back in my purse before he came in. So I just sat it on the exam table beside me.

This was a Very Bad Idea. Because iPhones refuse to be ignored. And it did not sit in silence.

So I watched,
and wiggled,
and squirmed,
and bit my lip,
and clenched my fists,
and tried with all my might to keep from completely popping out of my skin
while my iPhone buzzed....
and buzzed...
and buzzed.

Right there. By my leg.
Texts.
And more texts.
And phone calls.
And email.
My lifeline to the outside world.

I could hear it.
I could see it.
I could feel it.
But I couldn't touch it.

I am quite certain I did not hear one word the doctor said between, "So what brings you in today?" and "Just take this slip back to lab and they'll take care of you."

The lab? Really? THE LAB! I have never before heard such welcome words! This meant escape. I could take the phone with me and catch up on the texts that were screaming my name. Yay!

So I grabbed it. And stuffed it in my back pocket.

(You should know I left my purse. I know what really matters.)

The lab lady pointed me to the ladies room.
For a urine sample.
Ew. I know. Overshare.
But stay with me, because this part is important.

I hate giving urine samples. There is no good way to do this. The list of things you have to do to prepare for it is really overwhelming. And trust me. You do not want to get this wrong and have to start over. It is all kinds of distracting to the fact that you have an iPhone in your back pocket.

So I did my thing.
And then I stood up.

And then I heard it.


Plop!

Connect the dots here and replay that sound with me.


Plop!

You should know that I did not drop my iPhone in the toilet.
I would never do anything so careless.
Nope.
It leapt.
Yes, leapt. (It's a word. I looked it up.)
My iPhone leapt out of my back pocket.


And into the toilet.


AAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Never in a million years did I imagine it would be so easy to stick my arm into tinted toilet water!!
But I didn't even hesitate.
And my hand moved.
FAST.

I grabbed the phone.
I dried it off.
I washed my hands. Thoroughly.
I grabbed extra paper towels.
I headed back the exam room.

And then I started to panic.
The phone had power but I couldn't get past the home screen.
I saw my life flash before my eyes.

What would I do without my contacts?
Or my calendar?
Or my email?
Or my Facebook?
Or my Google maps?
Or All.  Those.  Apps?

There was only one thing to do. I had to have my phone. 

So I shook it. Hard. 

You know, to shake out the...eh...moisture. 

And little droplets flew everywhere. 

I don't think this is the most sanitary idea for a doctor's office. 

Or any office, really. 

But I was desperate.

Then I blew as hard as I could into every crevice possible to try and get out the rest of the...eh...moisture. 

And voila! 

No luck. 

A home screen I still couldn't get past.

And by then the doctor returned.

Here's what you should know about my doctor.
He is not just a doctor.
He is a therapist.
And a philosopher.
And a conversationalist.

And he talked...
And talked...
And talked.

And I squirmed,
and wiggled,
and sighed.

I have never been so anxious to leave the doctor's office in all my life!!
I just wanted a chance to get my phone back.
And the minutes were ticking away.

Aaaaack!!

And now I am home. Writing this post. And patiently waiting.

This is my phone after the toilet plunge.

This is my phone now.

In a bag of rice.

It worked for Kid Middle's phone after it took a plunge in her bubble bath. So maybe it will work for mine. I have no idea how long this will take. It took 48 hours for hers.

The Man has suggested that I get a new SIM card and use my old Blackberry while I wait for revival. I'm going to have to do this. I mean, texting is the only way I know my kids are still alive. But I can't do it forever. Because anyone with an iPhone knows that there is no going back. Ever. 

Dictionary.com says that cessation of an addiction causes severe trauma. 

I am here to tell you it's true! This is traumatic!

So if you see me cursing at my Blackberry over the next couple of days months 

you will know the rice didn't work. 

And I am not over my addiction.

More Ben & Jerry's while I wait? Don't mind if I do.