Yesterday at Church my children were asked by their Sunday School teacher to list five things for which they were thankful.
Lukas listed nothing but took the opportunity to draw a space galaxy on the paper given to him.
Jakob listed:
1. My house
2. My parents
3. Corn
4. Sliced carrots
5. My swimming pool
I think I am the most excited about the fact that Lukas has artistic ability beyond the pale for an 11 year old and that Jakob loves vegetables.
Peace allllllllllllll............
Monday, May 26, 2014
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Good Things
God is good all the time.
Life is good most of the time.
Thankful for the life I have.
I think I'll start writing again. I have less time in the day than I used to but I still have a lot to say:)
Peace alllllllll............
Life is good most of the time.
Thankful for the life I have.
I think I'll start writing again. I have less time in the day than I used to but I still have a lot to say:)
Peace alllllllll............
Friday, December 02, 2011
Alone
I was addressing Christmas cards the other day (I like to get them out as early as I can) and among the list of 90 some odd names and addresses it was the first one that my eyes went to:
Mark Savage
PO Box 52
Harvest, AL
This had been my brother’s mailing address for the past 20 years of his 55 years on this Earth. This was the address that I sent my first Christmas card from my very first place of my own when I was in my early 20’s. This was the address from which I was guaranteed a Christmas card every year. It would be without fail a western Santa card: Santa on a horse somewhere in the snow with fences and pine trees. And it always made me feel proud to be on his Christmas list (his list consisted of a very few people and if you were on it you could consider yourself special) and his card took its rightful place at the top of my front door, right next to my mother-in-law’s “Florida” Christmas card (you know the ones: sandy beaches with palm trees decorated with Christmas lights). This year I will be leaving that spot empty as a reminder (not that I need one) of my first Christmas without my parents or any siblings, effectively an “orphan”. Of course my parents and my other brother and my sister have been gone for several years and Mark and I were the only ones left. And now I am the last man standing. It’s funny how heavy that moniker is.
I have been through grief before many times. This is different than grief. This is a feeling of separation that I have never experienced before. I am the only one left in my immediate family. No one else knows what I was like as a baby, or a little kid. No one knows how much I loved Snoopy and hated fractions and how I used to fall asleep between the bed and the wall in the summer because the wall was so cool (something my youngest Jakob does now). There is no one left to remind me of how silly I acted the first time I fell in love or how proud I was of my first job. There is no one left to connect with on that level. It leaves me feeling almost lost and certainly confused.
I can tell my boys stories about their “other” grandmother and grandfathers that they have never met and I can tell them about their Aunt Becky and their Uncle Kevin but it isn’t the same thing as being there. They knew Uncle Mark and they miss him too. If they want to talk about him we do but, as is the way of children, they don’t bring him up very often and I am glad. It means they are concentrating on the business of living, as I am most days too.
It may seem that I am wallowing in self-pity. I assure you that I am not. Some days it is necessary to stop and acknowledge how you are feeling in that moment and when the moment has passed to move on. I have stopped, I have acknowledged, and now I am moving on.
Peace allllll………………………………….
Mark Savage
PO Box 52
Harvest, AL
This had been my brother’s mailing address for the past 20 years of his 55 years on this Earth. This was the address that I sent my first Christmas card from my very first place of my own when I was in my early 20’s. This was the address from which I was guaranteed a Christmas card every year. It would be without fail a western Santa card: Santa on a horse somewhere in the snow with fences and pine trees. And it always made me feel proud to be on his Christmas list (his list consisted of a very few people and if you were on it you could consider yourself special) and his card took its rightful place at the top of my front door, right next to my mother-in-law’s “Florida” Christmas card (you know the ones: sandy beaches with palm trees decorated with Christmas lights). This year I will be leaving that spot empty as a reminder (not that I need one) of my first Christmas without my parents or any siblings, effectively an “orphan”. Of course my parents and my other brother and my sister have been gone for several years and Mark and I were the only ones left. And now I am the last man standing. It’s funny how heavy that moniker is.
I have been through grief before many times. This is different than grief. This is a feeling of separation that I have never experienced before. I am the only one left in my immediate family. No one else knows what I was like as a baby, or a little kid. No one knows how much I loved Snoopy and hated fractions and how I used to fall asleep between the bed and the wall in the summer because the wall was so cool (something my youngest Jakob does now). There is no one left to remind me of how silly I acted the first time I fell in love or how proud I was of my first job. There is no one left to connect with on that level. It leaves me feeling almost lost and certainly confused.
I can tell my boys stories about their “other” grandmother and grandfathers that they have never met and I can tell them about their Aunt Becky and their Uncle Kevin but it isn’t the same thing as being there. They knew Uncle Mark and they miss him too. If they want to talk about him we do but, as is the way of children, they don’t bring him up very often and I am glad. It means they are concentrating on the business of living, as I am most days too.
It may seem that I am wallowing in self-pity. I assure you that I am not. Some days it is necessary to stop and acknowledge how you are feeling in that moment and when the moment has passed to move on. I have stopped, I have acknowledged, and now I am moving on.
Peace allllll………………………………….
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sunday, April 12, 2009
PBJ
This is a conversation that took place in my kitchen earlier this evening while Grover was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Jakob.
Jakob: Dad, please hurry and make my sandwich!
Grover: Relax, Jakob. You can't rush perfection.
Jakob: I'm not rushing perfection. I'm rushing YOU!
And this is one of the many reasons I love being a mom.
Peace allllllllll.............
Jakob: Dad, please hurry and make my sandwich!
Grover: Relax, Jakob. You can't rush perfection.
Jakob: I'm not rushing perfection. I'm rushing YOU!
And this is one of the many reasons I love being a mom.
Peace allllllllll.............
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Nicotine Cessation and Clarity of Thought
Wow, it's been a while huh?
When I quit smoking, almost a year ago, I never realized the effects that it would have on me mentally. Of course, I had read about the physical benefits and was told that the physical discomfort of withdrawal would not last very long. And that was true, all of it. I breathe better, I can actually smell things, I don't cough unless I have a cold and even then it is nowhere near as lung shattering as it was when I smoked a couple of packs a day. So, my body is grateful.
But I had never taken into consideration what my mind might go through during this process. It has been quite a trip. Let me explain.
Nicotine causes the brain to release dopamine. Dopamine causes a person to feel relaxed. Yes, that's an oversimplified statement or two but that's the upshot of the whole scenario. When one ceases ingesting nicotine, within 72 hours, the brain has started to basically rewire itself. (Brains are cool like that.) The brain is alright with that. You, as a new ex-smoker might not be......for a while. Because it takes a while to come through the other side of the looking glass.
For months, I could not concentrate. I would sit in front of this computer and say to myself "Self, you will post on your blog today. Self, you will read this book today. Self, you will do something that you actually have to think about doing for more than 5 minutes." And for the longest time, I just simply didn't have the level of concentration I needed to stay on task. It felt like I couldn't think straight.
I dealt with depression for a while, and then I dealt with anger for a while and then I just dealt with dealing with emotions that I used to suffocate with nicotine and tar. Because if you can't cover them up with chemicals, you just have to go through them. And that has sucked on more than a couple of days. But I got through it.
Anyhow, not trying to sound like an anti-drug campaign. But here I am, almost a year later and I am LOVING every minute of it now. It is NICE to be able to breathe, and it is NICE to be able to walk a mile, or two, and not feel like your lungs are bursting.
I know I'm probably not making much sense. And that's okay. At least some things have stayed the same.
Peace allllllllllllll.....................
When I quit smoking, almost a year ago, I never realized the effects that it would have on me mentally. Of course, I had read about the physical benefits and was told that the physical discomfort of withdrawal would not last very long. And that was true, all of it. I breathe better, I can actually smell things, I don't cough unless I have a cold and even then it is nowhere near as lung shattering as it was when I smoked a couple of packs a day. So, my body is grateful.
But I had never taken into consideration what my mind might go through during this process. It has been quite a trip. Let me explain.
Nicotine causes the brain to release dopamine. Dopamine causes a person to feel relaxed. Yes, that's an oversimplified statement or two but that's the upshot of the whole scenario. When one ceases ingesting nicotine, within 72 hours, the brain has started to basically rewire itself. (Brains are cool like that.) The brain is alright with that. You, as a new ex-smoker might not be......for a while. Because it takes a while to come through the other side of the looking glass.
For months, I could not concentrate. I would sit in front of this computer and say to myself "Self, you will post on your blog today. Self, you will read this book today. Self, you will do something that you actually have to think about doing for more than 5 minutes." And for the longest time, I just simply didn't have the level of concentration I needed to stay on task. It felt like I couldn't think straight.
I dealt with depression for a while, and then I dealt with anger for a while and then I just dealt with dealing with emotions that I used to suffocate with nicotine and tar. Because if you can't cover them up with chemicals, you just have to go through them. And that has sucked on more than a couple of days. But I got through it.
Anyhow, not trying to sound like an anti-drug campaign. But here I am, almost a year later and I am LOVING every minute of it now. It is NICE to be able to breathe, and it is NICE to be able to walk a mile, or two, and not feel like your lungs are bursting.
I know I'm probably not making much sense. And that's okay. At least some things have stayed the same.
Peace allllllllllllll.....................
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