B, B, B, B, B, B, B

BThink the ubiquitous Barbara Ann, and for those too young to know, to wit.

It was hard to decide on a topic for B. There are probably a week’s worth of topics in my draft posts about this letter. Actually, I’ve struggled with several letters wanting to take over and be posted on more than one day.

Since this is nominally a Richard Armitage blog, it seemed natural to post something related to him and B, but I can’t do it because I have always made this place safe for work, and the only B that comes to mind in regard to him is his performance in a piece that would take us into waters potentially not safe. No, it wasn’t porn. Wait. That’s not entirely accurate. For the British, it isn’t porn. In the US, it would be considered soft porn and frankly, I realized from learning of this that I may well be a prude. No, I am a prude. AT least about people having sex in front of me. I admit readily. But using some foul language to adequately describe things that cannot be described with more pristine words? I have no problem. Watching someone’s bare bottom in flagrante delicto? Nah, that’s not my thing, because I’ve never thought of sex as a spectator sport and don’t plan to start. A provincial American view? Yes, I’m a bit provincial at times, but hopefully none of that equates to boring, which is another word I thought to post on.

Boring is the shark that nips at a blogger’s heels. To be boring is to bring death, or so it seems. So how to prevent it? Be yourself, take chances and if you have to be anonymous to do this, then do it. Frankly, the biggest obstacle I’ve seen to blogging is that people think they have nothing to say. If they’re trying to sound like everyone else, then they don’t have anything to say that can’t be read at thousands of other sites. Boring.

But this is easily solved with a practical solution that doesn’t require you to undergo a head change before you begin. Merely keep an idea log. I used to carry a very small spiral notebook around with me to jot down ideas as they came. That got to be an obstacle because I got my best ideas while driving. I bought myself one of these, and it was revolutionary! These days I use my phone, and I’ve thought many times what in the hell did I do before I had these devices? Lost a lot of great ideas.

Now for the really important part to remember if you start collecting ideas. Don’t think too big. Yeah, I said think small. Some of the best ideas come from something seemingly small and fairly mundane such as seeing a dad carrying his small son on his shoulders, and then the dad turns around and you notice he (the dad) is wearing something at odds with what you would expect dads to wear while carrying their sweet little ones on their backs. If it’s fall or winter, a nice plaid shirt would seem apropos, or if it’s spring or summer, maybe a polo shirt. Not a t-shirt with a picture of a dog trying to lick himself in unmentionable places (notice my pronoun choice). I started laughing to myself about that when I wasn’t grossed out, and I was eating at the time too. Yuck. It occurred to me that my thoughts about this were probably shared with others, so I wrote a piece about it. Maybe I’ll post it before this challenge is done. Not sure yet.

In the meantime, a photo of Richard for your edification if you’re so inclined:

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Oh heck, a couple more, and no, these aren’t from the piece referenced above. These are all from a show called Strike Back:

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See you tomorrow.

Anonymity, April Challenge, and Richard Armitage

A2Z-BADGE-0002014-small_zps8300775cThis is my first post for the 2014 Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. Therefore, some people who are not Richard Armitage fans will be dropping by to check me out. This post is for them.

Hello! and welcome to my fun place. Mostly this is a humorous site, and occasionally I pontificate about various subjects. You thought it was all about some chap named Richard Armitage? That’s some of it. And right about now if you are wondering who in the heck is Richard Armitage? He is this guy:

Thorin Oakenshield from The Hobbit; you can get a thumbnail of his work here.

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Richard is a muse, if you will. He and more so his fans prompted me to enter the blogosphere as a writer who documents something other than vacation pictures and an occasional rant about current events. That’s mostly what I did before I entered this space, and I did it with my real identity. It was not fun. I was inhibited and unimaginative and so careful about my words that it would have taken aeons to develop a voice and certainly to be interesting. The specter of screwing up was the biggest obstacle, and so I removed that by throwing off the shackles of my identity and flying free with my thoughts. And yes, I do some fangirling, but I’ll try to keep that at a minimum during this month. No promises about Sunday.

See you tomorrow.

Getting Up to Speed

I was not exaggerating when I said several days ago that I’ve been sick. I had the flu (twice) and then it turned into some walking pneumonia. I had that once when I was a junior in college. I was stupid enough not to learn from that incident, and so I got it again. Maybe after all of this, I’ve finally learned to pace myself. Probably not fully, but it’s nice to ponder.

Enough about that. What I really want to talk about is Richard Armitage, because I’m finally well enough to descend into this insanity again whereas before I didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but sleeping. I should mention that this will be a hit and run since I’m busily trying to get caught up with my projects. I have completed two and working on another three of which one is for a fellow fan. No, I haven’t forgotten you fellow fan, and I thank you so much for all of your prayers and encouragement. I’ll be back in the groove shortly. Just give me a couple of days.

Okay, so back to Richard. On second thought I’m going to put all my waxing on about him in the next post. That way this particular post can get lost.

Me on about Richard coming up very shortly. And no, I haven’t forgotten about the other subject I want to discuss — The Hobbit audio book. Nor have I forgotten several other loose ends around this place. I promise before I call it a day here, I will tie them up. :D

Onto the next post.

Some of You Asked

I didn’t publish a post for Christmas, and a few of you have asked me about that. It’s not that I’m less aware of the Lord at Christmas. If anything, I’m more aware, and somehow putting up a message in this place seems awkward, seems disingenuous given my rhetoric which to me makes things plain but to others may be construed as rotten. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it doesn’t matter, and it’s possible to be very candid and still convey my heart for others as a follower of Christ. Make that flawed follower of Christ. Then again, the verse that keeps beating in my head is, “…whatever is not from faith is sin.” I hope that explains it.

#3, 2, 1 The Gift of Life

DonateLifeLogo Color PMSToday is my last post in this recent series of posts about Thanksgiving.

This post was originally drafted in three short posts, but obviously I’m having it in one go, and I will try not to make it too long.

The Gift of Life.

As I draft this, it’s very early Monday morning, and I will be going to work soon. But I’m sitting here reliving for about the thousandth time all that’s happened in my family this last year. SO is asleep beside me as I type, and when I look at him, big tears come into my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I think it’s a Knowshon moment. That’s when the magnitude of something seemingly mundane on most days hits like a wave. The wave is passing over me to such a degree I can barely type this. Emo? Yep. Very emo.

And I have such gratitude for a man named Mike. He gave a kidney to SO, and it changed our lives. He put himself through hell for almost eleven months to get this done, and all because he was grateful to God and wanted to give something in return. Through it all, Mike was always at ease and confident that it was going to happen, and he gives God credit for that peace and confidence. How can I do any less.

But saying thank you for this magnificent gift seems paltry. It’s the very minimum, and in the weeks after the surgery, I thought about what I could do to really show my gratitude. I would love to say I knew quickly, but honestly, I was so tired physically, I couldn’t think straight. My first inclination was to throw a party and praise God and Mike, and I did praise God and Mike, but eventually, the answer came to me so clearly I laughed. That’s my usual response to an epiphany. I chuckle because the answer has often been right in front of my face. And in this instance, what a lovely answer it is and the response God wants above all others.

I have also been given the gift of life, as we all have been given this gift. And it’s an absolved life. That’s a hard concept to grasp, but it’s there and not going away. I forget this more than I should, but thankfully, I’ve been coming to it more and more as I get older. It’s taken circumstances making me move myself out of the way in order to understand and keep understanding that it’s not what I can effect but rather passing on what’s been effected and continually effected by the Almighty. Specifically, grace. For me, I’ve been loved and forgiven and encouraged so many times, even when there were countless things I’ve done that I shouldn’t have or things I haven’t done that I should have. That grace has sustained me through it all. Without it, I wouldn’t be here, or at least not here with any semblance of a person. I would have been a shell acting like a person. Right now there is such a need to pass on that comfort, and I don’t ever want to forget to do it!

A few months ago I said I was a fighter, and yes, there are parts of me that are like a warrior. Those parts of me wanted to fight the people who seemed to be threatening SO’s life. But I don’t really want to fight people. I don’t think David really wanted to fight people. At least he didn’t start out that way. And Christ did not fight people. Told the truth? Yes, but fought? No, he didn’t do that. And I don’t want to do it either. I want to give what’s been given to me — a second chance at life myriad times.

And I know Mike will also appreciate this more than any words I could offer up.

Does all of this put me on the hook to be held accountable as some will see fit to do? You bet, and that’s okay.

note: When I decided to do this series of posts, I knew I would lose some followers. The subject matter in several of these posts is not what readers came for initially, so I did lose some followers. I totally understand that. But frankly, I lose and gain followers everyday and don’t put much stock in that ebb and flow. What I didn’t expect is that my gains would be much more than my losses, and that I would receive so many lovely notes from people who have no need to thump their chests nor a Bible but who love God. Thank you to all of you who have sent me notes and thank you to all of you who have deigned to follow my ramblings. And be forewarned I’m returning to the snark later today. :D

#5 Popcorn

3405289_786d806078_oThis is part of my series of posts counting down to and through the Thanksgiving holidays and expressing my thankfulness for something I’ve received, experienced or participated in.

Popcorn.

I’m absurd about popcorn. It’s been my snack of choice since I was a very small child. No candy or cookies for me. I wanted popcorn, and I learned very young how to make it on the stove top, which is how I still do it today. No microwave popcorn at my house.

My children are also big popcorn lovers, and my 13 year old has made it her snack of choice after salads. I was very similar as a kid. If I wasn’t eating popcorn, I was eating a salad, and water was my drink. Same with her, and now for the part that makes me so thankful.

Eating popcorn is cheap. It’s really cheap even when it’s cooked as a healthy snack. And it’s already pretty darn healthy with its fiber content and the newly discovered anti-oxidant benefit. So why am I making such a big deal out of popcorn? This year we drastically cut back on everything, and I’m so glad we could still sit down with a bowl of popcorn while watching a movie or show via Netflix and have a marvelous time. No one in the household felt they were being cheated out of something. It was all good.

By the way, when I do splurge on popcorn, my favorite brand is Black Jewell. Just thinking about that stuff is a temptation. Truly the best popcorn made!

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons on Flickr

#6 A Good Day

This is part of my series of posts counting down to and through the Thanksgiving holidays and expressing my thankfulness for something I’ve received, experienced or participated in.

A Good Day.

Yesterday was a good day. I would love to say I never took good days for granted, but until several years ago, I didn’t let myself fully bask in good days. Whenever I got close to basking, I would feel guilty. There was always too much to be done and too many people hurting. How could I be gleeful at a good day? How could I let myself forget all the troubles of the world around me?

To add to that, I was a perfectionist. My need for things to be the way I thought they should be was violent. And when I say that, I mean order in things I could easily control. Things that don’t matter. Like the carpet or the dishes. What helped prolong it is I effected a demeanor to coworkers and friends and most of my family of being easy going. Sometimes it’s laughable to me that people thought I was so cool about living life and often commented on it. But then the violence was mostly internal.

Having a mental breakdown cured that, and no, I’m not going to rehash it here. I’ll just say I ran out of gas and all that angst had to go away. I’m sorry it took that kind of upheaval for me to wake up. And if there is one regret I have in life (and I have several), it’s my stubbornness to not see what I was doing. I thank the Lord for His infinite wisdom and how He helped me see it, which is a whole ‘nother story not for this blog.

All I know today is I’m way past the control freak girl who would have squirmed uncomfortably at the dinner table yesterday because her daughter placed big, fat, red salt and pepper shakers covered with smudges from being on the stove, onto the elegantly laid dinner table done in burgundy and white. I’m way past the control freak girl who would have looked at that sweet daughter’s smiling face and said harshly, “No! Where are the crystal shakers?!” Or she would have done everything herself because she didn’t trust anyone else to do it “right”. That girl was incapable of fully enjoying the talking and laughing during the meal and certainly wouldn’t have let herself enjoy the food she cooked. Thankfully, that girl is gone.

The new girl was there and having a great time, and for one brief moment when she spied the red shakers, was aware of how far she’s come in the pursuit of life and happiness.

By the way, a good day today means I will not be out at the stores shopping on Black Friday. :D

#7 Perspective

Getting PerspectiveThis is part of my series of posts counting down to and through the Thanksgiving holidays and expressing my thankfulness for something I’ve received, experienced or participated in.

Perspective.

For most of my life I’ve tried to put myself in someone else’s shoes to perhaps understand what motivates them, makes them happy or makes them sad. I’ve also tried to understand why I see things as I do, why I believe the things I do, what makes me happy or sad. When I was in high school, I began to do rigorous self-examinations of my thoughts to the point of excruciating mental pain and maybe some of that was because I was deficient in some areas. Whatever the case, there was and still is an insatiable need in me to know the truth, to know reality. It is such a quest in my life that I’m more than willing to throw away a thought that doesn’t square with truth.

The obstacle is that I don’t always know the truth. I don’t always know who I am or why I think what I do. Oh, sure, I know some, and I do think there is a definitive truth because to me, truth is a person. But I don’t believe any of us can know all of Him or know it all (whatever that means) — at least not in a reasonable amount of time. Then again, maybe I’m wrong and we can. But today, I’m not completely knowledgeable of God or fully conversant in my identity — not fully aware of all that being someone who believes in Christ is or can be. And that’s just fine. It has me on a journey to find out, and I love the adventure.

It was always my nature to go out exploring as a child, and the Bible hero I identified with most closely was David. I used to feel guilty about all of that as if somehow it was wrong to want to find out about other worlds, but I’ve long since gotten over any guilt. I’ve long since come to peace with the part of my identity that wants to go exploring. And God gets credit for that peace. The only time I ever really felt guilty about it was when I listened to the world. When I’ve listened to reasons from others who didn’t think it made sense for me to do it.

I don’t want to denigrate being sensible. It has its place, but sometimes it can kill a person. “If there is no vision, the people perish.” Taken out of context? Probably, but the fundamental truth is there. So called “sensible” talk can kill a dream. And if someone cannot dream or aspire to go beyond themselves, what do they have? Certainly, this takes many forms. Sometimes going beyond oneself is to never leave a place, and the exploring occurs in their interaction with others and/or in their mind only. Some of the greatest writers never went anywhere of note. But that is not to say someone has to produce something for others to consume before it’s considered great.

I’m thankful I realize all of these things about exploration, but mostly that I’m free. “When the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” I’m glad I’m aware of that at times. I’m glad that bitching about life is not my way of life. Yes, venting has its place. People get frustrated and need to talk, but that’s not what I’m referring to. I’m talking about the continual chatter in the world that’s about all which doesn’t go well. At some point there are diminishing returns on it. And then you have to move on and do something productive for yourself if no one else, or this too will kill you. When is the point to move on reached? I can’t answer that for anyone else. I only know when I’ve reached it and oftentimes, it took Someone not of this world, Someone beyond myself, Someone with a larger perspective than mine to show me that life is not nearly as small as I can sometimes make it.

“…A Girl Who Reads”

I’m reblogging this from Reading, Writing, Ranting and Raving, but obviously I’m not using the the WP reblog function, which sucks. But enough about that. Go over and see what Kym Lucas, who runs the blog, has posted from the English poet, Mark Grist. Here, and just know there is some graphic language, but it’s still worth a listen.

I Really Did Have a Richard Armitage Dream

And now for something weird.

The other night I slept 16 hours when normally I sleep six at most. This may account for Richard showing up in my dreams for the first time.

I was sitting in the back of a large, black SUV and a man was sitting beside me. We were both dressed in black slacks and black turtle neck sweaters and talking about some project we were working on. No specifics on that; just that we were making preparations to continue with it. A few moments later someone walked up to my side of the vehicle, and I partially rolled down the window to see who it was. It was Richard Armitage, and he was also dressed all in black with some sort of black cap on his head. He peered into the window and said very slowly, “There you are.” Then he pulled a black ski mask over his face and just stared at me through the eye slits for an inordinately long time. Eventually I looked straight ahead and said, “You’re unnerving me.”

Then it was onto the next dream where I was a prisoner in a concentration camp and there was lice all around. I woke up with an itchy scalp.

Let the psychoanalysis begin. :D