You are currently browsing the Enchanting Sunshine weblog archives for August, 2007.
August 30, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.
In the history of homo sapiens, I doubt any person has ever looked forward to a birthday as much as I am. Though my original plan to be in Paris didn’t work out, the backup to be in the Grand Canyon is looking really promising. My wonderful husband has spent countless hours on the Internet planning out our itinerary (he’s the researcher, remember) and it all seems to be coming together. We were still missing lodging for the time at the Grand Canyon. Of course, all camping this late is full and to be honest, in a way I don’t feel like dealing with bear lockers and paying for showers.
Tonight I looked on Yahoo maps and clicked the “show hotels” feature. Bing! A hotel popped up immediately and there was a vacancy. Some of the ratings were bad, people didn’t like the size of the rooms (too small), and that there was no tv, but as long as I have a comfortable bed, what do I care? I’ll have a toilet that I don’t have to get dressed to use in the middle of the night. Mind you, I love camping, but damn, sometimes you don’t want to grope around for the flashlight when the potty urge hits you. The cabin is rustic (fine by me!) and there’s wireless Internet access in the hotel lobby. I’m hoping I’ll be able to update my blog as we travel. That may be too ambitious, but nonetheless, we have a hotel!! The food was consistently rated as outstanding too.
I am so looking forward to this vacation. Instead of dealing with rude French people, I’ll be seeing some of the most beautiful places on earth. Nature is about the only place where I can truly say I feel spiritual, the only thing that makes me feel connected to or consider the possibility that there may be a God.
Fabulous!!!
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August 27, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.
Okay, I have said it before, but I was wrong. I take it back. Tonight, furniture I ordered two months ago was finally delivered. The dresser is beautiful and better than a dream. There is room now to organize garments and a place for everything. Money most certainly does buy happiness!
Posted in Gratitude | Print | No Comments »
August 27, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.
One of the best things about camping is that you get not only a fun experience in the outdoors and sight-seeing wherever your tent is setup, but the appreciation living a slightly more primitive life gives you for the many blessings you have. As I was walking to the bathhouse at 3 am on Saturday morning, fumbling my way around in the dark, I thought about how much I love having a bathroom a few feet from my bed at home and the benefits electricity brings. “How did our ancestors survive in the wild without flashlights,” I wondered. “What was life like for them when they heard strange noises in the middle of the night?”
How much do I love my kitchen and air-conditioning. Running water. Shampoo and conditioner. Sunscreen! Soft beach blankets. Ice cubes and automatic ice generators.
At the same time, how grateful am I for a waterproof tent and camping gear, luxury air mattresses, screened gazebos and the refreshing weekends all these things grant me for an affordable price! What a fantastic weekend vacation, better than I could get at a luxury hotel.
Even though I woke up Sunday morning with “Thank God, I’m a Country Boy” going through my head (really, I’m not making that up), and I missed the Orioles, perhaps it was good for me to be away from them. They lost all four games to the Twins. Some people take a news fast to feel better. For me, it’s an Orioles fast.
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August 26, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.
What a difference a weekend at the beach can make.
Wrong Place, Wrong Turn, Right Spot
This weekend, we went to Hunting Island, south of Beaufort, SC. When I made the reservation I thought I was reserving Huntington Beach, our favorite beach camping destination. An hour before we were scheduled to leave for the beach, my intelligent and thorough husband read through the reservation details and realized my error. Had he not, we would have driven for hours and arrived at a full campground at 10 pm and not known what to do except sleep in the car. Stuart figured out directions to the new destination and I called to get the combination to the gate so that we could enter the park after closing, and all seemed as if it was going to go off okay.
At some point during the drive, we must have been deeply engrossed in conversation because we saw the exit for 95 come up, and yet still somehow missed it. By the time we realized it, we were almost in Charleston and had taken an extra hour detour. Hmm, not an auspicious start.
Hunting Island is 13 miles southeast of Beaufort. Once you leave Beaufort, you cross two drawbridges and follow a two lane highway spanned on either side by lush green marshes. There’s a smattering of houses on a few side roads and very little commercial development. It’s scenic and remote without being too remote that you feel vulnerable or like you must have a week of provisions with you.
We arrived at the campground at nearly 11 and were stunned at how pretty it is. The park borders the beach and is covered in tall woods that form a thick canopy of pines and palms. Most of the tent camping is relatively secluded and nestled among the trees, but our site was the best of all, with natural barriers on either side and woods behind, providing lots of privacy from the other campers.
A Carrier of Good Luck
However, as my friend Jeff says, when it comes to luck, I’m like someone with a recessive gene, I’m a carrier but not someone who has it expressed in any tangible way myself. We knew we couldn’t make it through the entire weekend without some mishaps and getting lost wasn’t enough to satisfy the bad luck Gods.
Having learned our lesson about beach camping in August two summers ago, we decided to leave the fly off the tent so that we would have some airflow, see the stars and not be suffocated. It was delightful sleeping weather, warm but not too humid and enough of a breeze to make tenting enjoyable. Before we went to sleep, I asked Stuart, “what if it rains?” He assuredly said, “It won’t rain” and added a little chortle, as if to say, “silly girl.” Having efficiently executed the rain dance with those three words, around 3 am, the skies opened up driving big rain droplets through the mesh in the top of our tent. It took us a few minutes to get outside and grab the fly from the trunk before we got the tent protected; no sooner than the fly was secured, the rain tapered to a drizzle.
When we climbed back inside the tent, we discovered that the top sheet was pretty damp and unusable. Fortunately, I had another sheet tucked away in a corner that managed to stay dry, so all was not lost. I crumbled up the wet sheet at the foot of the tent and spread out the dry sheet and we went back to sleep. A short while later, I woke up a little chilly and grabbed the damp sheet to see if it was dry enough to use as light layer. As I spread it out, an R shaken from his hiding place, went running across the floor of the tent. A R!! R! Shivers. Somehow though, I managed to fall back asleep even with a R in the vicinity.
Fresh Start
Saturday was a delight and a fresh start, a new chance to turn the tides of our recent bad luck. We went to the grocery store nine or ten miles back in town and found ice and some eats for the rest of the weekend. When we got back to the campground, we ate lunch, and then gathered our snacks, reading materials, chairs, towels, and sun tent and proceeded to the beach.
Ten Ton Tent on the Run
I have to interrupt the story here to describe the sun tent. We purchased it two years ago so that we could spend prolonged periods on the beach without getting cooked. When set up right, it offers skin-saving shelter from the sun, while still enabling us to enjoy the beach experience. We’ve used it several times and it’s lovely to have a place to retreat. The shade gives a reprieve from the heat and a comfortable place to lay on a blanket and watch the waves rolling in on the beach in complete safety, for as long as you wish. The only problem is that the thing is a huge pain in the ass to use. For starters, it’s a cumbersome pig that weighs about eight pounds and is very heavy to lug even a short distance. It has three legs and if you don’t position them correctly, you have a kite and a lethal weapon instead of a shelter. When it’s very windy, just forget it. One leg has be positioned just right against the wind, and tied down with the many ropes in heavy wet sand. The sand has to be wet all the way through or the ties will just rip out and fly about with the stakes whipping around in the wind, just itching to put your eye out.
When we pulled out the tent on Saturday, all the ties were tangled together and it took at least twenty minutes of patient unwinding to get them free. Then we got the legs positioned, but the wind was way too strong to make it worthwhile. The windward leg got blown flat and was laying on the sand immediately and the other two legs moved around wherever the wind wanted them to go. Everything we had placed under the tent laid exposed, including our ice-water filled thermos. We weighted down our two picnic blankets by covering all the edges with sand, but even the chair heavy with magazines and books tipped over in the strong winds. We gave up fighting it and just let the wind do whatever it wanted and laid out in the sun on our beach blanket instead.
We made the best of it. The nice part about the wind was that we had a nice cooling breeze, so there was no repeat of the suffocatingly still air we suffered through a couple of years ago. Several times we ran into the waves and frolicked about. Everything was delightful, until…
Submerged Groins Are No Laughing Matter
Because our arms were weary from walking half a mile with beach gear, we didn’t want to walk any further than we had already, so we chose a spot on the beach next to a “submerged groin.” The tide was out so we could see the metal barrier and rocks going into the water. I saw them and thought, “If anyone is going to end up dashed against them, it’s going to be me.” Talk about foreshadowing.
Late in the afternoon, Stuart and I were enjoying playing in the water. The strong winds and rising tide were producing bigger and bigger waves. Their force started pushing us right in the direction of the groin. Stuart managed to stay several yards away in safety, but I wasn’t strong enough, and even though I was using all my strength to swim away, I was their prisoner. Before I knew it, I was right next to the rocks and, with one more wave, I was dragged into them. I swam harder now against the current and could see Stuart, unaware of my predicament, laughing in the distance. I was like a small child, unable to fight against the continuous battering, their force, like the wind, thrashing me about wherever they pleased. Another wave rolled in and dragged me into the groin again, even harder than the first time. Now I wanted to cry. I was not only in a lot of pain, but starting to panic that I wasn’t going to be able to escape the rocks. I was sure one more blow and I’d need stitches, if there was still an attached limb to stitch.
At this point, Stuart realized I was struggling and came to my rescue, literally pushing me into an area where the sand was high enough to walk back to the beach, though even that was difficult. When we finally reached safe ground, we caught our breath and examined our many cuts and gashes. Stuart had several on his hands, and my knee is quite shredded in addition to a few nicks on my hands. Lesson of the day, “No matter how funny submerged groins may seem, they are no laughing matter. Avoid groins, submerged or visible.” Who knew there was crying at the beach?
Playing Rocky with the Raccoon
We recovered from the hatefulness of the rocks by enjoying a peaceful few hours at the campsite. We showered and removed most of the sand from our crevices and relaxed inside our screened gazebo. I caught up on some reading and then we had our dinner, fried chicken, purchased earlier in the day from Publix. When we were done, we walked the trash to the dumpster half a mile away, then came back to camp ready for a fun night. Stuart set up the computer, which had a selection of several movies, we got out our mixed drinks and settled in for a relaxing Movie Night. We had canned nuts and pretzels and the only thing missing was the popcorn. We chose “The Life of Brian” and began our cozy and romantic evening, protected from the mosquitos and wildlife inside our gazebo. What could be better! Our memories of the groin began to fade away in the tranquility of the woods. Or so we thought.
It’s not often I’ve had to go head-to-head with wildlife, but this trip provided a few opportunities. Earlier we had fought against a battalion of ants who found whatever miniscule droppings from dinner made their way to the ground. I thought that was the biggest of my worries. An hour or so into the movie, two raccoons decided that there must still be good eats on our picnic table. Maybe they smelled the residue of coke in the cans we were flavoring our bacardi with, or the lure of pretzels was too much to resist. We spent the next forty minutes alternately trying to scare them off, thinking we had and resuming the movie, and then refilling a pitcher of water and throwing it on them. Eventually, after we put the last of the snacks in the car and threw the remants of my coffee on them, they left us alone. We finished the rest of the movie in peace. Finally. Peace. We started an episode of “The Office” to end the night on one last upbeat note, but the computer died half way through, so we took the hint, gave up and went to bed.
In the middle of the night, Stuart discovered the R that was still running around in the tent and smashed his head in. Then at 3 am, the dog at the neighbor’s campsite, barking in excitement, chased off the raccoon. Then finally, there was peace.
Sunday was a much more relaxing day. We drove down to the public beach and rode bikes to the lighthouse, laid on the beach, played in the waves, laid on the beach and played in the waves some more. It was the perfect ending to the vacation and truly restorative. When we got home last night, I felt like I had been gone a week, forgetting the last three weeks and everything that came before it, the stress washed away in the ocean waves. Instead of feeling like “just one more thing,” I feel like I had a fun adventure.
Turns our my reservation mistake was a good thing after all, leading us to a new destination we wouldn’t have otherwise visited. Hunting Island is now, unquestionably, even with its groins and raccoons, biting ants, ill-placed dumpster, my favorite beach camping spot.
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August 19, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.
I’ve been catching up on some podcasts and have been listening to one by Cheryl Richardson. Cheryl is a “life-coach” and counsels callers to her radio show on their issues, helping them find direction and lecturing them on their choices and assumptions. There’s a lot of frou-frou mysticism in her approach that I don’t like, but sometimes she offers practical, sound advice.
This particular episode is entitled, “Are You a Spiritual Pioneer.” The introduction was about those who like to explore personal growth and spirituality. Cheryl opined that it’s okay to seek, but we all must seek our own path. It’s not up to us to decide what is right for others or try to convert them.
I wish a lot of people I’ve known would hear this message.
Over the years, I have known so many people who have sought a new religion or “spiritual pursuit.” I too have explored many ideas and philosophies. I’m a curious person and I love to learn new things. I enjoy watching others try out something new and get invigorated by it. When a friend enthusiastically shares about a new pursuit, I get excited with her. I love hearing the joy in someone’s voice when they light up about feeling like something long sought or hidden has suddenly been discovered. I love to hear about other people’s victories, their journey and what works for them. Woohoo!!
On the other hand, nothing turns me off more than when they cross the boundary from sharing to preaching. I’m sure you’ve been there. It’s the know-it-all expert and not only do they know what’s right for themselves, but they know what’s right for you too. Now that the universe has granted them this great knowledge and the answer to everything, they feel obligated to convert you and exhibit no restraint in telling you how you need to change, to follow their newfound path. They just cannot suppress the urge to preach. They have it all figured out and they’re going to tell you what you should believe, and what you will believe one day, when you, too, become enlightened.
As a long-time recipient of such messages from friends who turned to the dark-side, as I call it, it’s difficult for me to find the balance between letting a friend know I’m interested in him, but content where I am, and I don’t mean to diminsh his belief system, but it’s not right for me. You see, I don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings. I know their underlying intentions are good, but their self-centered worldview is an obstacle to them acknowledging that each of us finds our own path to truth. So I struggle to be polite and say in the gentlest way possible, “I’m good where I am, thanks” so that it isn’t heard as “I think your belief system is inferior.” Unfortunately, blinded by their enthusiasm, sometimes they don’t let go and in their relentless pushing end up sullying the very ideas they love by making you hate them and the idea all at once.
I’ve been the victim of the self-proclaimed “Spiritual Pioneer” many times, sitting through many lectures about the proper belief system and my own dysfunctions exhibiting themselves because I don’t agree. I had one coworker, I’ll call Agatha, who became enchanted with a new idea every other month. She’s not what I would call “devoted to self-improvement or personal growth,” as much as “LOST” and “deeply troubled.” That may sound mean, but you would say the same thing if you had had to endure as many lectures as I had. It’s really a wonder I didn’t stab her with a fork.
Somehow, with people like that, I must learn how to set a boundary that makes it clear that I am open-minded, kind and interested in hearing about their life and experiences, that I love hearing about the ways other people find joy, but that my interest is not an open invitation to be converted and lectured. While one person may find deep meaning howling at and worshipping the moon, I have no judgment. If it’s what turns someone on and makes him happy, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else, I’m happy for him. I’ll even drop him off at his howling meetings if needed. But if he makes a repeated habit of telling me how I should howl at the moon too, and what’s more, that there’s something wrong with me because I can’t open myself up to howling, that’s where the boundary is crossed.
In my experience, the people who least recognize the boundary are those who think that there is meaning in every speck of dust in the universe, so that when something happens, they’re troubled to find the deeper subconscious meaning and what it symbolizes about their inner psychological turmoil. Or equally, what God meant for them to understand by sending that speck of dust to settle next to them. I would love to broadcast a message to these people to tell them that it’s possible to take life too seriously.
We’re not all troubled, we don’t all need to explore the deeper hidden meaning in everything that happens to us, everything isn’t a sign from the universe, everything isn’t an indication of our deeper denial and unawareness of the state of our being that requires profound, deep investigation. Sometimes a glass breaks because you dropped it. It doesn’t always mean that there was a deeper reason why you dropped the glass and that the dropping of the glass is indicative of a greater picture of glass dropping in your life. Sometimes, we do need to look deeper within ourselves, but sometimes, we just dropped the glass because we lost our grip. It doesn’t mean we were attention-seeking or that we subconsciously dropped the glass as a symbol of our seething, suppressed, inner resentment and wanted the glass to shatter as a physical representation of our fragile psyche. My point is, in other words, “Lighten up, for God’s sake.”
So back to the Cheryl Richardson episode, one caller wanted advice about how to dump a friend who wasn’t on the “same path” with her. She didn’t say that her friend was unsupportive of her journey or trying to prevent or sabotage her explorations, only that they couldn’t be friends anymore because they were on different paths. Of course, I don’t know the details, but the impression the caller gave was that she was too enlightened to continue being friends with someone who didn’t share her exact set of beliefs. How enlightened can we be if we can’t tolerate difference and respect other people and hear the truths that resonate with them? I suspect based on my own past history of dealing with the “spiritually enlightened,” that the caller was trying to convert her friend, who just wasn’t interested, and the caller couldn’t handle the rejection of not being idolized in the glory of her new great brilliance. I know that probably sounds pretty harsh and perhaps unfair. It stems from my own baggage of having had so many friends turn to the dark side.
What is it that makes people so arrogant that they think they have all the answers?
It may sound like I’m one who hasn’t been personally subjected to the existential journeys in life annd that’s far from the truth. I spent most of my twenties researching religions, feeling abandoned by God, abandoned by friends, looking inward at my own flaws and reading more self-help books than I can count. I know I have recommended books to friends and offered my own unsolicited advice. Early in my twenties when I first became a vegetarian, I did the preaching, but I learned quickly that my choices were right for me, and it wasn’t my place or within my ability to decide for other people how to live. Of course I have opinions, and I think it would be great if more people were environmentalists and devoted parents, but I walk in my own shoes. Within the context of someone else’s life who am I to say that with the same experiences and circumstances that their belief system wouldn’t be fitting for me? I’ve never told anyone else they should become a Jew, but I’ve heard plenty about how I should believe everything happens for a reason, Jesus is the way, and you’re not supposed to be attached to outcomes according to an interpretation of Buddism that misunderstands the original philosophy. If your purpose is to do more than live within your conscience and you wish to convert others, the only way to do this effectively is to live as an example of what you believe. If you are a role model and live with integrity, people respect that. When you live what you believe, you are much more likely to stir a natural curiosity in others than if you tell them how they should live. Being a loving, accepting, non-judgmental representation allows you to become an avenue for others to explore new ideas.
Ideas can only be shared effectively in a safe environment, where people feel like they can be themselves without being on guard. Where someone feels loved, even for embracing different beliefs, has faith that he can share space and coexist without judgment and condescension, only then will he feel comfortable exploring more. In a judgmental environment, even a silently judgmental one, we naturally react with defensiveness and close ourselves off from hearing what others have to say. Only when there isn’t an expectation that someone change, can ideas be questioned and explored and shared openly, light-heartedly, and lovingly.
My former coworker Agatha, will likely never get the idea about boundaries. One of her lectures to me was about my cat, Maggie, who had a urinary tract infection. Agatha had relied many times on a pet pyschic, just a $60 (will that be Mastercard or Visa?) phone call away. Every time I made the mistake of mentioning Maggie, I was told that I should give the psychic a try to find out what was “really” wrong with Maggie, what she was really upset about. Agatha was subsequently failed by the pet pyschic, though she never said as much. A couple of years later, despite trying the mind melding technique with her cat (I swear I am not making that up), Agatha finally had her cat put down. The cat never waivered in her desire to not use the litter box and in fact, escalated her carpet assaults.
Perhaps calling the vet and reading some books on cat behavior might have been more helpful? Then one would have had to expend energy in training, behavior modification, and consistency. Easier to call the pyschic to feel like something was done.
Agatha once also spent $3,000 to attend a spiritual seminar of sorts in California. When she came home, she was all full of the “energy” and “crystals” and went on and on about what a peaceful person she had become. Her pictures had light spots in them that all her seminar friends interpreted as “energy halos.” She insisted there were no lights that could have caused the glare. Soon after her return home, she began to frequently inform me that I should attend a seminar myself, letting me know what needed fixing in me and how the seminar could help.
Another idea that gets preached to me with relative frequency is, “Everything happens for a reason?” I’m often told that I’ll believe the truth of this when, one day, I’m smarter and more enlightened. I wish I could believe everything happens for a reason. It would be nice to know that there is something deliberate and meaningful in the misery and suffering of the entire continent of Africa, to name only one example. What is the universe’s reason? No one ever tells me. Why do millions live in disease and poverty and war? What is the spiritual reason that people are born with genetic diseases that cause them a lifetime of suffering? I don’t have a problem if people want to believe that everything happens for a reason, and I’m sure it’s a really peaceful, carefree way to go through life, but I wish that if they felt so compelled to lecture me, that they would at least have the courtesy to tell me what the reasons are. Isn’t that fair?
The last caller on the Cheryl Richardson show during the “Spiritual Pioneer” episode made me unsubscribe from the podcast. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a force of positive change in the world. I want to do that. Don’t most of us? This woman was too much though, and I bet is a nightmare to be around.
She started by “acknowledging the divinity in others” and wanted advice about being a “conduit.” She always “been a seeker.” Then there was this, which I transcribed word for word (really, I’m not making this up), “I have been diligent to and committed to unfolding my divinity and stepping into the realization of who I truly am. I feel so alive when I am basking in the realm of possibility and the realm of transformation. I really want to make a difference…[blah blah]…align ourselves to the divine…[blah blah]…I want to be a conduit through which God uses me to facilitate transformation on the planet.”
Um…here’s my advice, to her and everyone like her, “Please, for the love of God, get over yourself!”
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August 18, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.
Last year my husband and I got married at our house. We’re not posh or very concerned about impressing people so a home wedding was perfect for us. Our number one priority was to have a special day that was enjoyable for our guests, fun for us, and offered delicious food (being from the North, I believe in having real food at a wedding and not “heavy hors d’oeuvres” like they do in the South).
As part of our at home ceremony, to make the house a little more presentable, we did a little remodeling. We had a pretty nasty linoleum floor in the kitchen that had been patched badly by the previous owner, and some worn carpeting in the living room. We installed beautiful tile in the kitchen and hardwoods in the living room and figured it was a much better investment than money we would never see again at a caterer. We also considered redoing the floor in our master bath, but when we realized the subflooring is rotten decided to wait. We had enough to manage with wedding details and the small remodeling projects in the rest of the house.
So…now fast forward nine months. We decide to investigate this whole bathroom remodel project again. We haven’t used our shower in a year. It needed re-caulking and with all the wedding planning, we didn’t have the time, energy or motivation. Then after the wedding, we figured we’d remodel soon anyway, so why bother?
We decide that if we’re going to spend the money to put in a nice floor, we might as well finally do that luxury shower we’ve been dreaming about. We take our happy selves to the tile store we used for the kitchen, thinking naively that we would look at a few books, pick out some fixtures and go home with a scheduled install date.
Oh, silly persons.
I thought that I felt overwhelmed planning the wedding last year.
When the installer came to measure our bathroom he suggested that we also replace the tub. Currently we have a fiberglass jacuzzi bath that is an all in one unit - not sunken. It never looked so bad to me, but when you spend all that money for the nice shower and the nice floor, why keep the cheap looking bath. Oh, and you know bathroom vanities these days are fancier and taller, and we’re tall, and if you’re gonna spend all that money, might as well replace the perfectly good cabinets too. And if I’m doing all that, I decided, that I was going to go all the way and replace the big frameless mirror and create some space in that tiny little bathroom by installing a sunken medicine cabinet. And if I do that, I might as well have power run to it so that my toothbrush power cord isn’t looking nasty snaking out of the cabinet.
As if all those details are not overwhelming enough, we also have to pick out all the fixtures, all the detailed plumbing bits that make the shower. Then we have to find the replacement bathtub that will fit in that small space. Did you know that there are air tubs now? That way you don’t have to worry about the bacteria and mold forming in the lines and jets. Well which is better, air or water jacuzzi? Investigate some more. Now, find a cabinet…
Now find a carpenter. The first carpenter went awol. Now find a new carpenter. Explain all over again what we want with the medicine cabinets and privacy wall.
Now pick a tile and figure out how to combine different sizes to make a pattern from millions of different possibilities. Still haven’t called the glass door people. One more thing to do.
Are you feeling overwhelmed yet?
Six months have passed since we started thinking about redoing the bathroom again. Most days, I want to just give up and forget the whole thing. If the subfloor weren’t already rotten and needing replacing I wouldn’t bother. However, when I sell this house, if that day should come after finally perfecting every bit of it, there’s no way I’m discounting the price because of the bathroom floor.
Fortunately I have a husband who isn’t easily rattled. He’s patient (he puts up with me) and isn’t given to emotional break downs like I am. Sure he feels overwhelmed too, but he’s the kind of person who can spend months doing research without thinking, “if I have to think about this one more minute, I’m going to lose my mind.” I, on the other hand, have freak out moments when I just start crying in frustration about, not just this, but every other aspect of my life that I can’t seem to get ahead of (at the moment there are many huge things, but those are subjects for a different post).
Though I’m impatient to at least get this process started - something ordered, a demo date scheduled - I am so grateful to my husband. I used to think that I was deliberate and a researcher, but I am no match for him. I know that when he takes charge of a project, he will not act until he has researched every minute detail. He is thorough and smart. I know that I am safe in his hands. The finished project will be right and it will be perfect, and I will not have to spend future energy re-doing a badly done job. I have no worries when he manages a project.
All I must do is be patient.
So back and forth he goes to the bathroom with the measuring tape and jots down numbers, and clicks on websites. There is no one like him and I cannot and never want to imagine my life without him.
All I must do is be patient.
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August 1, 2007 by enchantingsunshine.
See the pictures of Cooperstown here.
Cal Ripken Hall of Fame Induction 2007!
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