tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75180145500639321712024-03-05T22:13:36.117-05:00FROM WITHINJ. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.comBlogger172125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-37929466247238270612013-12-05T23:14:00.002-05:002013-12-05T23:14:49.354-05:00The Heat Is On and It's Time to Face the TruthI'm not trying to say that I'm an advocate of lying, but there are times when I choose not to tell the whole truth. Or maybe what I'm trying to say is that I'm very adept at choosing not to walk the line when I don't want to - I'm a skilled player when it comes to evasion and asking questions to keep the heat off of me and focused on you.<br />
<br />
So, I was shocked when I told him the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It was the raw underbelly of my heart; and my inner-woman was stunned that I had let it roll off my tongue so freely, so vulnerably. Like it was nothing; when it was really everything.<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
I blame it on the fact that we're fire friends. That when everyone else has retreated into their tents for the night, we alone stay at the edge of the campfire for just a few more minutes. <br />
<br />
If there's any place not to lie, it seems to me that it's in front of a fire. There's something sacred and beautiful about fire, and even more so when you share the experience of appreciating it with someone.<br />
<br />
Several times we've been left alone - and those few minutes stretch into their own space, where standard rules don't seem to apply. We're not really friends, but around the fire late into the night, we're kindred spirits releasing truths into the air, into the space that is ours alone.<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
I blame it on the fact that we walked on the beach together, hand in hand; that we shared a bed and a beautiful meal; that you took my breath away with beauty, art and music, as well as your direct line of questioning that parceled all my heartfelt responses into nothing but a pile of empty, thoughtless excuses.<br />
<br />
I was using them to avoid the truth. You knew it. And you led me to it slowly.<br />
<br />
It was a dawning, a fiery sunrise within my own heart that you witnessed. It was sacred and beautiful. And there was no space for lies.<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
I blame it on the fact that I've been too busy and too stressed for too long. I've been telling everyone else's story instead of giving my own the care and room for development that it needed.<br />
<br />
I blame it on the fact that I've been evading the truth within my own heart. <br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
<i>"To be absolutely honest, in two years what I really hope is to have need for a family car. To need enough room for a significant other, a baby and a dog."</i><br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
Such a simple truth to reveal, the fact that I want a family. But it's something I want...so badly...that I haven't wanted to admit it.<br />
<br />
It's no surprise that a little girl growing up in a broken family would dream of a house full of boys: one big one for me and a few smaller ones that we made together. And I knew that it would be a house filled with happiness. It was what I wanted.<br />
<br />
<b>It is what I want.</b><br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
It rolled off my tongue. This confession.<br />
<br />
From one beautiful soul to another, in a shared space where lying wasn't permitted, I spoke aloud a truth that I had barely even whispered in the depths of my heart.<br />
<br />
And <b>why</b> not? Because I don't want to hold onto it for fear that it won't happen.<br />
<br />
If hold onto it and it doesn't happen, I'm devastated - and then have to deal with it; whereas, if I don't hold onto it, I can pretend that it wasn't ever really that important to me to begin with.<br />
<br />
A loose hold means that it's easier to move on, move forward. Disappointment is easier to manage than devastation.<br />
<br />
A family: a mom, a dad, a kid, a baby and a dog. A happy, silly, growing family. It seems like such a simple thing to want, but it brings tears to my eyes, and my heart swells like I'm standing at the edge of a cliff and I can't see the ground.<br />
<br />
---- <br />
<br />
I held that dream in my hands recently.<br />
<br />
It was handed to me. It took me by surprise. And even though I had reason to doubt, I couldn't resist the call of my heart.<br />
<br />
Stupid heart. Stupid call. The dream ended abruptly.<br />
<br />
It was like being the last in line dancing to the Piper's song and tripping over a limb into a night-cold brook. Holding my throbbing head in my hands, wondering why I was freezing cold and alone in the dark.<br />
<br />
---- <br />
<br />
Was it possible that instead of a happily-ever-after, I had really just been about to sell my soul to the devil?<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
The heat is on - and there is no evading it this time. I've offered up my heart for evaluation. <br />
<br />
It's time for me to face the truth.J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-25946680586249132302013-12-03T00:03:00.002-05:002013-12-03T00:03:54.524-05:00Courage from the Heart of AnotherDoes it count if the courage didn't come from your own heart, but instead was gifted to you by the heart of another?<br />
<br />
That's the question of the evening. <br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
It almost feels like I didn't fight "the good fight," because I was using a strategy that until recently wasn't my own.<br />
<br />
Basically, I borrowed another set of balls to handle my business. <br />
<br />
And I'm trying to figure out if it's legit. Does it count? Is it blessed by the gods of good friends who know just how to bolster you up in the midst of a personal battle?<br />
<br />
And more importantly, will it stick? Just because I was able to succeed in this one battle, will the winning streak continue on with me to other battles? Or will it realize that it's been lended-out, taken by a less-than-worthy heart; and take a leave of absence just when I need to be my most strong?<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Lots of questions running though my mind. Lots of trying to be strong and realizing that it's my friends who are making me be strong. On my own, I am a lily-livered weakling.<br />
<br />
Or is that what I've been led to believe; and instead the truth is that my friends are trying to jump-start the lioness they know is within? <br />
J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-62274811165631930322012-12-20T17:00:00.000-05:002013-12-06T00:02:34.305-05:00 Kissing my Palm
The thing is, he saw you do it first.<br />
<br />
My dear, impressionable 7
year old son, who is living with moderate autism, who thinks so highly
of you...even if you don't acknowledge it, or appreciate it.<br />
<br />
You thought he wasn't paying attention - engrossed in his iDevice,
watching gaming videos - when you tenderly lifted my hand to your lips,
palm first so that you could kiss the consequence of my clumsiness. But
he saw you; and he absorbed your tender gesture. <br />
<br />
I couldn't believe it. You're my ex-boyfriend. You aren't suppose to be
so loving. It's like we're still living in a mixed up land, where we
aren't together, but still long to be. <br />
<br />
But it seems that love exists in any land...mixed up or not. <br /><br />
And love, no matter how it is defined - or not - is still able to procreate kindness. <br />
<br />
The next day, my son and I went to high five each other. And as we
smacked hands, I saw his expression change. There was deep concern that
furrowed his darling brow. He grabbed my hand, looked at it, looked at
me and bent his little head so that he could kiss my boo-boo and make it
all better. <br />
<br />
Just as he had seen you do it.<br /><br />
With such a marked tenderness.<br />
<br />
You don't want to be with me, because you don't want to be with "us," -
you don't want to be a father. But you're already affecting him more
than you know. <br />
<br />
He'll remember this - and he will be a more tender man, a more tender
lover, husband - and hopefully - father, because of this moment when you
chose to love me. J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-56694495697554783132012-09-08T23:57:00.000-04:002012-09-08T23:57:23.500-04:00Under (More) PressureIn an interesting turn of events, I moved in with my ex-husband at
the beginning of the 2012 year - almost just in time to celebrate our
first full year of being divorced.<br />
<br />
My decision to move back into
the house that we shared while married was multi-layered - like an onion
(a big, fat smelly one). But the 2 main factors were...a. I had no rent
money (since I had just recently left my job to start publishing) and
b. he never completed the mortgage edit - taking my name off the
property - and couldn't move forward with an appraisal since the house
was in disrepair.<br />
<br />
Our agreement was that I would provide property
management (negotiating with the HOA, cleaning, managing service
providers, more cleaning, calling in all kinds of favors from friends
for home improvement supplies, did I mention the cleaning?!) and in
return, I would be able to live at the house for free while I pursued
whatever opportunities opened for me through<a data-mce-href="https://facebook.com/jabsplethora" href="https://facebook.com/jabsplethora" target="_blank"> jab's plethora</a>.
The agreement would exist until the house was appraised, the refinance
paperwork completed and my name removed from the property. And we'd
figure out how to deal with the awkward part of living together again a
day at a time.<br />
<br />
And even though the agreement was cut and dry -
real life has a way of creating more hoops to jump through, more pop
quizzes than you've studied for, more opportunities to feel like the
awkward adolescent standing in front of the class red-cheeked with
embarrassment.<br />
<br />
To put it nicely, it has been a rich experience - and has hopefully, made me a better and stronger person.<br /> ---<br />
<br />
But now, I am just ready to move on.<br />
<br />
I
am happy to report that the agreement is coming to its fulfillment. The
house has been cleaned, the HOA placated, my friends and connections
thanked and thanked again. The paperwork process was initiated, the
appraisal scheduled and final details submitted to the bank for
processing.<br />
<br />
Things have been moving along. Not near fast enough to please my taste, but at least there has been forward momentum.<br />
<br />
This week, though, has been a doozie.<br />
<br />
I
was informed by one of my closest friends that she and my ex have
started a connection that they plan to pursue. And though she doesn't
yet want to be called his girlfriend (by god, it's too early for that)
they have kissed and she does plan to come over for romantic visits
(last night, her car was still in front of the house at 4am). And she
really wants our friendship to remain the same...<br />
<br />
[Can you blame
me for sleeping poorly; for rolling over at some point and checking out
the window and at seeing her car, checking my phone for the time? If you
want to, that's fine. Live as I have for the last 8 months and maybe
you'll start acting a little crazy too.]<br />
<br />
My ex topped that tidbit
with the fact that the refi appears "dead in the water;" or at least,
that's what the Banker told him. He needs me to submit my divorce
paperwork, because what he's already submitted didn't fulfill the
requirements of the paperwork process. And he needs to find an extra
$1,400 to order to complete the process - and isn't sure where that
money is going to come from.<br />
Is it any wonder that I may have indulged at the <a data-mce-href="http://www.dickandjanesmebane.com" href="http://www.dickandjanesmebane.com/" target="_blank">local Martini Bar</a> on Friday night while updating my mom on all the particulars?<br />
<br />
To
be honest with you, as ready as I am to depart this household, I don't
have a place to land yet. My company and my professional engagements
have grown - but not quite enough just yet. Those are ends I am
desperately trying to match up as quickly as possible...understanding
that ultimately the journey is not in my control.<br />
<br />
All I can do is
act in a way that I can be proud of...so that when this nightmare is
over, I'm not haunted by actions that were mean and childish. My record
isn't spotless, but I'm doing the best I can to make sure that it stays
as clean as possible.J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-73347693593262548292012-09-07T00:19:00.000-04:002012-09-07T00:19:04.564-04:00Happy from AfarSo, I think it's a very good thing that I am in the midst of <a data-mce-href="http://jabusfield.com/2012/09/04/2012-apple-adventures-applesauce-1/" href="http://jabsyummygoodness.blogspot.com/2012/09/2012-apple-adventures-line-up.html" target="_blank">2012 Apple Adventures</a>.
There's nothing like taking out your stress on a bag of apples that
need to be peeled and chopped. It's a methodical process that provides a
lot of firm sensory feedback, almost soothing to a soul that's raging
on the tumultuous waters of life.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9KJA9Jux_TPpSH5BV_BWQ0ZIsicPyeHiGkS0nCa0Z66mIk21VTJtgnfqO2u9CwwjhrlAu9S2OD_j3xb4vFzZbIPphRBqJufZIjWQgnqIgjaLr_tIE5uC94kWAyRprctNPti9N_XkREQ/s1600/Apple+Scraps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9KJA9Jux_TPpSH5BV_BWQ0ZIsicPyeHiGkS0nCa0Z66mIk21VTJtgnfqO2u9CwwjhrlAu9S2OD_j3xb4vFzZbIPphRBqJufZIjWQgnqIgjaLr_tIE5uC94kWAyRprctNPti9N_XkREQ/s320/Apple+Scraps.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And I am not ashamed to admit that I am the soul that needs soothing.<br />
<br />
Today,
one of my dearest friends took me out to lunch to confess that she's
decided to pursue a relationship with my ex-huband. She doesn't want to
be called his girlfriend (it's too soon for that) - but they have
already kissed, so they intend to see where this may lead.<br />
<br />
Did I mention that I am currently living with my ex?<br />
Have you been following the sordid tales of my adventures this year in
working with him to get a property we share ready for an appraisal? If
you haven't, you're missing out - I am not going to lie. It's a great
story!<br />
<br />
And so, it's not that I begrudge their happiness.<br /> Love happens; and attraction doesn't follow the rules. I operate a <a data-mce-href="http://jabsloveletters.com" href="http://jabsloveletters.com/" target="_blank">Love Letters community</a> - I of all people know how spontaneous and imaginative the feelings of love are, and can be. So, on those terms, we're good.<br />
<br />
I
told her that it wasn't going to ruin our friendship, but that the
parameters of our friendship would indeed change - there's no way to
ignore or deny that fate. I also told her that she may be exactly what
he needs - and that they may be very good for each other; different
temperaments, like bodies, fit together differently - and some better
than others.<br />
<br />
I just don't want to tell her I told her so...when
she comes to me frustrated about his behavior or about how our
friendship has changed...<br />
<br />
So, I am hoping for the best - for all
of us: that they will be happy together - and that I will be able to
survey their happiness from a different vantage point - not from the
room down the hall.<br />
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-50104796927570539562012-06-02T23:39:00.000-04:002012-06-02T23:39:09.026-04:00stuffed with kissesWe were indulging in a little before-sleepy-time-snuggle, me and the kid. Hunkered under the quilt and listing to the high powered fan cut through the quiet night.<br />
<br />
I kissed the tip of my finger and dramatically space-shipped it up-and-over to his face. I made sure that it landed on the tip of his nose.<br />
<br />
He giggled.<br />
<br />
"Aw, man. I'm stuffed," he expressed delightedly.<br />
<br />
"Wait. What?" I answered. "You're stuffed with kisses?"<br />
<br />
"Yep," his answer was thick with amusement. "I'm not hungry anymore, because I'm stuffed!" He said it dramatically, with lots of emphasis on the word "stuffed."<br />
<br />
"So, no more kisses?" I was checking. This momma wants to get in all the kisses I can, while I still can.<br />
<br />
"No. I'm stuffed." <br />
<br />
He used it perfectly - just as any of us would have after Thanksgiving dinner. And two thoughts immediately hit me...<br />
<br />
<b>One</b><br />
<br />
I am so proud of how he's developed and progressed this past year in his ability to express himself. The kid has HFA (High Functioning Autism) and has experienced delays in many areas of development - speech being one of the major ones. We've worked hard, first with different Early Intervention Strategies and then with consistent Speech Therapy, in both a school and clinical setting. <br />
<br />
The fact that he's internalized this idiom and is able to express it, thrills my heart. Sure, the usage is a little nontraditional but if you were a part of our family, you'd know that we feast regularly on a diet of big, fat, juicy kisses. <br />
<br />
<b>Two</b><br />
<br />
I am so proud to have established a home environment where my kid can say - delightedly - that he's stuffed with kisses. It's been a goal to make sure that love is expressed in our household. It doesn't meant that we're happy-go-lucky all the time; but it does mean that we take <i><b>every single opportunity</b></i> to express affection and sincere love. <br />
<br />
It'll change soon. Before I know it, kisses will go out of vogue. I'll have to transition to something a little more manly, like fist bumps. But, it'll be a love-expression all the same!J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-18006755933755769712012-06-02T00:18:00.000-04:002012-06-02T00:18:15.192-04:00a frog storyIt's a small story. One that I won't take too long to tell.<br />
<br />
(Oh, my. I heard that sigh of relief. Am I really <i><b>that </b></i>long winded?)<br />
<br />
I pulled up into the driveway this evening, mind filled with tasks to get ready for the yard sale I have scheduled way too early in the morning. And as I pulled up, I noticed a blot on my white garage door. At first I thought it was a leaf - we did have some righteous storms this afternoon and evening.<br />
<br />
But the closer I got to the garage, the more I noticed its shape. A frog.<br />
A sign of good luck - as far as I'm concerned. Of vitality...of peace...<br />
<br />
Of course, this could be because of <a href="http://www.peacefrogs.com/" target="_blank">Peace Frogs</a>. <br />I also had a frog volleyball tee in high school when I was playing on the varsity team. <br />
<br />
Whatever the reason, frogs give me a good feeling.<br />Hope mixed with determination and a bit of the organic spice that flavors life.<br />
<br />
(You can call me weirdo - that's okay. I get it a lot.)<br />
<br />
I kept the lights on and got out of my car to take a closer look - and to snap a pic. He had his head angled just so, as if he were posing for the shot.<br />
<br />
"Hey, buddy. That was a good shot. But I am going to come closer for another one. Stay put. I'd rather you not jump off while I am trying to get closer."<br />
<br />
He didn't move. And I got a great shot.<br />
<br />
"Thanks, man. That one was even better."<br />
<br />
Then I realized we had a problem.<br />
<br />
"Hey, man. I'm gonna need you to move. I've got to get in and start getting the signs ready for tomorrow's sale. I'd rather not have to lift the door with you still attached. Um, I'm pretty sure that you don't want me to either. So, if you could go ahead and make plans to be somewhere else, I'd appreciate that."<br />
<br />
He lifted his head and turned it just a bit.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if it was an action of rebellion: "Who are you to tell me what to do, woman?!"<br />
<br />
It might have been an action of acquiescence: "Of course. I understand and will act while you're away." <br />
<br />
Either way, I didn't push the issue.<br />I left him to deal with things inside the house. I'll be back out soon enough and will deal with the situation then.<br />
<br />
I really hope he hops away. <br />
<br />
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<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-90123299629455906462012-03-27T23:53:00.002-04:002012-03-28T15:02:39.928-04:00thoughts on single motherhood<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<div>
I spent the better part
of my day sitting with a friend in the Clinic, first at her doc's
appointment and then at her Pre-Op appointment. These were both in
preparation for her surgery that's scheduled this coming Friday.<br />
<br />
I
don't see this friend often, but she is extremely dear to my heart.
She's been there for me through my crazy growth and development, and has
given me a sounding board to think through decisions of life and love. I
really appreciate her patience as we worked together to sift through my
insanity to find nuggets of truth in order to move forward with a
better sense of self-determination and awareness.<br />
<br />
She's
been struggling with Endometriosis for approximately 10 years, but in
the last 3 months or so, managing its symptoms has been almost
impossible. Hence the surgery on Friday. It's the next step to finding
out answers on how she can move forward with the life she wants to live.<br />
<br />
She wants children.<br />
This condition will not make it easy for her.<br />
<br />
She's been waiting for Mr. Right.<br />
Her heart longs for the romance, the wedding, the marriage, the new family, the happy household...<br />
<br />
But time is ticking...<br />
Her
window to produce a healthy child and carry it to term is
closing...even faster now with the ever-worsening developments of her
condition in the last few months.<br />
<br />
After we made it through
the appointments (she had me sit-in with her on both of them for moral
support), we talked through the last 6 to 8 months of life, which was a
bit fuzzy for the both of us since we hadn't done a very good job
keeping in touch. It was good to catch up. I've missed her.<br />
<br />
I could also tell the conversation was precursory; there was something more pressing on her mind.<br />
<br />
"What's it like being a single mom?"<br />
<br />
I
knew this was coming. She had already mentioned it a couple of times:
how waiting for the right guy to share a family with didn't seem like a
viable option anymore, how at least she could move forward with an
important piece of that dream - if she did it now - and start a family
of her own.<br />
<br />
I didn't blame her for thinking that way. Not
under her circumstances, for sure. But I really wouldn't wish single
motherhood on anyone, especially my friends. Mothering is hard in a
committed relationship where you have backup, never mind when you're
alone.<br />
<br />
I told her that if she was really, truly thinking
about it that she needed to explore mommy-baby support groups within her
local community.<br />
<br />
I told her:<br />
<br />
<i>This isn't
something you can (or should) do completely alone. You're going to need
to have other people in your life to share the highs and lows with. And
believe you me, you've no idea what highs and lows will come with
motherhood until you are one. If you think you've seen dark days, just
wait until you have a kid. You don't understand the meaning of dark
until you're stretched beyond logic and reason to be bigger, a more
selfless person than ever. But you've also never seen the sun, not until
you've looked into your kid's face. </i><br />
<br />
I want her to
have a support group, even if that means she moves back to her home
place to be close to her parents. I told her there was no point in being
too worried about job loyalty when having a kid was going to challenge
all loyalties within her heart for further examination.<br />
<br />
Having kids makes you reevaluate everything.<br />
And some things stay the same, but oh-so-many more things change.<br />
Including yourself.<br />
<br />
It
helps to have someone outside of yourself be a witness to the change, a
sounding board for the growing pains, a shoulder to cry on...<br />
<br />
I don't doubt for an instant that she's strong enough to go it alone.<br />
But, even strong people need support from time to time.</div>
</div>J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-21709757441016547422012-01-15T18:10:00.000-05:002012-01-15T18:10:41.581-05:00What's up with you, Jenny?! (Part 4)There's been a lot going on...<br />
...and I am always surprised by how much people <i><b>don't know</b></i> about me.<br />
<br />
I'm kind of a social network whore...but, be that as it may, it doesn't
mean that anyone else is. So even though I post tons of updates, you may
not be getting a whole picture.<br />
<br />
This is Part 4 in explaining all the tiny bits that are making up my current big picture.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
<b>Jenny - The Professional (Part Four)</b><br />
<br />
<i>...and the writing continues... </i><b><br /></b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<br />
<u>re: Love Letters </u><br />
No, I don't plan on writing only <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jabsLoveLetters" target="_blank">Love Letters</a> for the rest of my life. I mean, more than likely I will because that's kinda my thing, but I've got a list of 15+ other titles that I'd like to write as well.<br />
<br />
I've got plans for a Love Letters, Volume 3 to be completed towards the end of summer, but don't hold me to that. I am not sure what the next few months hold, and it may be more towards fall or Christmas before Vol 3 is completed and ready for purchase. <br />
<br />
<u>re: Next Series </u><br />
The next book on the publishing-horizon will be book 1 of a new series called From Within (after this blog, which is after my initial idea back-way-on-back from my college days). The book will be titled, Black Magic Woman...and it's been sitting on my coffee table for about five weeks now. All the content is written, it just needs to go through a thorough initial editing so that I can pass it to my Content Editors.<br />
<br />
The content is rougher around the edges than what readers will be used to in Love Letters. It's an accumulation of my Id's play space - very raw and blunt observations on life as it pertains to heritage and passion. <br />
<br />
I've got three books slated for the From Within series. Like I've already stated, book 1 has all of its content. Book 2 and book 3 have about 1/2 of their content complete. <br />
<br />
<u>re: Blogs</u><br />
I've got a handful of blogs: From Within (personal commentary), my OK place (traveling), the dark side (personal commentary protected behind a Content Warning) and yummy-goodness (food and cooking) - all of which I plan to continue. At the moment they are hosted on Blogger, but I do intend to continue them on my own domain (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/jabs-plethora/272130516171410" target="_blank">jab's plethora</a>). Love Letters is also on Blogger and it will probably remain there for the time being. <br />
<br />
Things have been supremely quite on the blogs for the last 3 months, but that was due to completing and publishing <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/about/the-books" target="_blank">the books</a>. (I may want to <i><b>do it all</b></i>, but I am learning that there is only so much that I can do at once...until they can provide me with aged clones, that is).<br />
<br />
I've started a new blog on WordPress called Living with the Ex. You can find it at <a href="http://livingwiththeex.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">livingwiththeex.wordpress.com </a>-- it seems that an unconventional opportunity to for me to move in with my ex-husband has made itself available...and I'm taking it. If you're interested in the <a href="http://livingwiththeex.wordpress.com/about/" target="_blank"><i><b>how</b></i> and <b><i>why</i></b> </a>of it, I encourage you to read the blog.<br />
<br />
<u>re: Other Books </u><br />
Like I said, I have 15+ titles that are nagging at me to get them written. There will be other works published in the future, whether I am able to eventually support myself on this pipe dream, whether a big-momma publisher picks me up, or whether I am working for someone else and writing on the side. The third option is my least favorite, for obvious reasons, but the writing just isn't going to stop.<br />
<br />
I'm crazy for it, and you might as well commit me now.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
<b>Part 5 is coming soon...</b><br />
<b>...we'll discuss personal life events and changes...</b><br />
<br />
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-52656616949014620082012-01-15T00:44:00.004-05:002012-01-15T00:44:47.832-05:00What's Up with you, Jenny?! (Part 3)There's been a lot going on...<br />
...and I am always surprised by how much people <i><b>don't know</b></i> about me.<br />
<br />
I'm kind of a social network whore...but, be that as it may, it doesn't
mean that anyone else is. So even though I post tons of updates, you may
not be getting a whole picture.<br />
<br />
This is Part 3 in explaining all the tiny bits that are making up my current big picture.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
<b>Jenny - The Professional (Part Three)</b><br />
<br />
On Christmas Eve, I was spending time with friends who have become family, sharing a meal and catching up on the details of life. It was my turn to talk, so I dished about my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/jabs-plethora/272130516171410" target="_blank">little company's growth</a> and how I wanted to move forward...<br />
<br />
<i>...at some point, I'd really like to be in a position to give back to the community. I just don't know </i>how<i> yet, but I'm sure something will come to light.</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
My friend, the hostess, <i></i>starting grinning and her eyes got sparkly.<br />
(A bit of background information: she's a teacher at one of our local private schools.) <br />
<br />
<i>You know...we're in need of some professionals to come in and teach elective classes for the Spring Term. We don't have many options open for this kids this time around. Would you be willing to teach a writing class of sorts?</i><br />
<br />
<b>If life was like the movies, angels would have appeared and starting singing the Hallelujah chorus.</b><br />
<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<div>
<br />
I knew immediately that I really wanted to do this, and started dusting off my teacher-skills (I was an 8th grade Language Arts teacher in 2002) so that I could put together a rough-draft syllabus. I've been spending time since that meeting trying to organize what I've learned in the last 3 months into a class outline appropriate for middle school aged students.<br />
<br />
I received an initial approval from my friend and the teacher who heads up the Middle School. On January 13th, I presented the idea to the students and tried to make it sound as appealing as possible. Being published as a 6th, 7th or 8th grader will make just about anyone's eyes grow wide and dreamy, so I threw in a little reality check as well: I mentioned that if they didn't like to write, there was really no reason to sign up.<br />
<br />
<i>I mean for goodness sake, I </i>really like <i>to write and there are some days when I want to throw my hands up move on to something else.</i><br />
<br />
Here's a rough draft of the project. Enjoy! <br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Write-My-Life/163087350461006" target="_blank">Write My Life</a> is a
course where students will be taught the process of self publishing. The
syllabus includes an intense outline of objectives, each one
stair-stepping towards the end goal: a published book.<br />
<br />
<i>Here's a basic outline on what you can expect:</i><br />
<br />
1.
Writing: Students will be using the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jabsLoveLetters" target="_blank">Love and Appreciation Movement</a>
framework provided by <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/" target="_blank">jab's Love Letters</a> to write expressive letters in
each of the six (6) categories: I love you, I thank you, I miss you, I
want you, I'm sorry, and I hope for you. The overall focus will
challenge each student to acknowledge the important people in their
lives by offering sentiments of love and appreciation.<br />
<br />
2.
Editing: Students will learn the importance of editing over and over
again in order to provide the best possible content for the book.
Editing sessions will include: individual editing, peer editing,
workshop editing and teacher-to-student editing. Instruction in the
differences between Content and Copy editing will be outlined so that
the students have a working knowledge of how to incorporate each one in
their review of content.<br />
<br />
3. Formatting: The class will
review the basic parts of a book and make some basic decisions on how
the book and content within the book should be formatted. (The publisher
will have final discretion in order to provide a high quality end
product.)<br />
<br />
4. Designing: The class will review the aspects
of a successful book cover and incorporate those elements in the
objectives list provided to the Designer. (The publisher will have final
discretion in collaboration with the contracted Designer, in this case
August Knight [<a href="http://augustknight.com/">http://augustknight.com</a>], in order to provide a high
quality end product.)<br />
<br />
5. Autobiographies: Each student
will be required to submit an brief autobiography that will be included
in the book. The syllabus outline will challenge the students to focus
on different aspects of self with the objective of inspiring a new
awareness of personality and character within each child.<br />
<br />
6.
Marketing: Basic marketing strategies, including very basic email
campaigns and the use of social networks, will be covered in order to
raise awareness within the students on the responsibilities of "getting
the word out." School-based outlets (website, newsletter, etc...) will
be utilized as much as possible in order to raise awareness within the
entire school community. (The publisher will also make its marketing
platforms available in order to increase the profitability of the
project.)<br />
<br />
7. Community Awareness: The class will discuss
the importance of success for personal gain, but also for the
opportunity to "give back" to the community. In this case, students will
be urged to use their marketing skills in order to sell the book as
much as possible so that a portion of the proceeds can be returned to
the school. Students will be challenged to investigate real needs within
the school so that the opportunity of giving back is effective to its
fullest potential. Proceeds will be collected for a year after
publication and presented to the school by as many of the original
students who are available to attending the ceremony.<br />
<br />
8.
Reviews / the Power of Social Marketing: Students will learn first-hand
how important positive product reviews are and how to write them. The
class will discuss the importance and weight of comments made and posted
to social networks and online product pages.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
Jenny - The Professional (Part 4) is coming soon...</div>
<div>
...I mean, I am not just going to write <a href="http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/love-letters-volume-2-being-adult/18816213" target="_blank">Love Letters</a> until the end of time...</div>
</div>
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-23677080757868188052012-01-14T21:28:00.000-05:002012-01-14T21:28:36.536-05:00What's Up with you, Jenny?! (Part 2)There's been a lot going on...<br />
...and I am always surprised by how much people <i><b>don't know</b></i> about me.<br />
<br />
I'm kind of a social network whore...but, be that as it may, it doesn't
mean that anyone else is. So even though I post tons of updates, you may
not be getting a whole picture.<br />
<br />
This is Part 2 in explaining all the tiny bits that are making up my current big picture.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
<b>Jenny - The Professional (Part Two)</b><br />
<br />
<br />
In Part 1 I told you that I now own a company: jab's plethora<br />
<br />
The company was set up so that I can self publish from a strong
platform. I don't want to take the time to convince major publishers
that any of my ideas are good ones (at least not at this point). That
takes a lot of time and energy; and I would much rather focus on the
list of projects that I'd like to see come to fruition (I've got a bunch
of them). So, that's what I'm doing. If big-momma-publisher sees me
doing my thing and wants to pick me up, that'd be lovely. But, I'm not
going to hold my breath.<br />
<br />
I have a lot of content already written that just needs to be edited and formatted into books :D<br />
The
first project I decided to tackle was the Love Letters series and at
this point I have both Book 1 and Book 2 published and available for
purchase. <br />
<br />
BY THE WAY -- I have a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/jabs-plethora/272130516171410" target="_blank">Facebook page</a>
(and would appreciate your "like") and am currently working on the
website. I hope to have an initial site ready for launch sometime before
the end of this month. (But for other reasons, not yet discussed,
that's gonna be a stretch.)<br />
<br />
------ <br />
<br />
BOOK 1 - <a href="http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/love-letters-volume-1-moving-on-growing-up/18805697" target="_blank"><i>Love Letters, Volume 1: Moving On, Growing Up</i></a><br />
<br />
Based on the real-life journey of a woman who wanted to grab every
opportunity to express love and appreciation for the people who added
value to her life: family, friends, lovers...no one is excluded. This
collection of love letters helps us realize that many different people
help shape the course of our life; and we should treasure every person,
every moment that brings us to this exact spot within our development.
Face your love!<br />
<br />
The Love Letters collection has inspired the Love and
Appreciation movement, encouraging each person to acknowledge the
special people in their lives by writing their own love letter. It isn't
hard and doesn't require eloquence, only sincerity. Be a part of the online community: <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/">jabsloveletters.com</a><br />
<br />
BOOK 2 - <a href="http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/love-letters-volume-2-being-adult/18816213" target="_blank"><i>Love Letters, Volume 2: Being Adult</i></a><br />
<br />
The Love and Appreciation Movement, inspired by the Love Letters series,
continues forward encompassing a new category: tribulation. Life isn't
perfect, neither is love. Our experiences are multi-faceted and perfect
only because of their imperfections. Love Letters, Volume 2: Being Adult
explores the idea of love with a deeper, more complex analysis. Each
letter expresses love - as it is, raging with honesty.<br />
<br />
The author continues her journey detailing a commitment to a. love
herself and b. love others. She transforms her passion into the kinds of
words that grab hearts and inspire change. Her perspective challenges
each person to acknowledge the love that resides in their heart; and
share it with the understanding that shared-love will ripple outward,
like lake water disturbed by a pebble.
<i></i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<u><br /><b>Although the books are within the same series and formatted the same way (using categories), they are different beasts. </b></u><br />
<br />
I like to say that Book 1 is like cotton candy. It's short and sweet...and can be read over your morning cup of coffee. You can read the reviews<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006BLGEJI" target="_blank"> posted on Amazon</a> to get a better idea of what to expect. After you read the book, I'd love it if you posted your own review on Amazon or emailed it to info@jabsloveletters.com<br />
<br />
Book 2 is about 40 pages longer than the first one...and is denser. Instead of cotton candy, it's more like Shepherd's Pie. The writing is more expressive, more emotional. It was published on January 10th, so there aren't any reviews yet on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Love-Letters-Being-Adult-ebook/dp/B006WP74P6" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, but I'd be pleased as punch if you decided to write a review after reading it. You can also send a review to info@loveletters.com -- we'd love to post it on our <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/letters/promote" target="_blank">various social networks</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
If you're interested in purchasing an <i><u><b>autographed copy</b></u></i>
of either of the books, I will have them available for purchase on the
site (only Book 1 is available at the time of this blog post). If you
aren't worried about having an autographed copy and/or would like
information on how to find an eBook version of the books - I've got that
<a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/about/the-books" target="_blank">information available</a> on the website. <br />
<br />
***If you have any problems with the website...a link, a form
submission, a purchase, etc...please let me know - you can email
info@jabsloveletters.com and tell me what's going on. I would appreciate
your support in this matter, as I am running in 15 bazillion directions
and sometimes smaller details are missed (ack - did I admit that?! sure
enough did...)<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
Jenny - The Professional (Part 3) is coming soon...<br />
...and we'll talk about the Write My Life project.J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-38729743982056877512012-01-12T21:00:00.001-05:002012-01-12T21:00:17.243-05:00What's Up with you, Jenny?! (Part 1)There's been a lot going on...<br />
...and I am always surprised by how much people <i><b>don't know</b></i> about me.<br />
<br />
I'm kind of a social network whore...but, be that as it may, it doesn't mean that anyone else is. So even though I post tons of updates, you may not be getting a whole picture.<br />
<br />
This is Part 1 in explaining all the tiny bits that are making up my current big picture.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
<b>Jenny - The Professional (Part One)</b><br />
<br />
<br />
I don't work at WebSpark anymore. I left my position as Operations Manager in October 2011 for many reasons. One of the strongest, most compelling, back-me-into-a-corner type reason was that I wanted to pursue my writing career.<br />
<br />
And so, that's what I've done.<br />
I am on a path I would have never expected, but here I am...and loving it.<br />
<br />
I own my own company: jab's plethora<br />
<br />
I have a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/jabs-plethora/272130516171410" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> (and would appreciate your "like") and am currently working on the website. I hope to have an initial site ready for launch sometime before the end of this month. (But for other reasons, not yet discussed, that's gonna be a stretch.)<br />
<br />
***And let me take a moment to be thankful for my previous position at WebSpark. I was there for 2+ years and learned many, many skills that I am utilizing now.***<br />
<br />
The company was set up so that I can self publish from a strong platform. I don't want to take the time to convince major publishers that any of my ideas are good ones (at least not at this point). That takes a lot of time and energy; and I would much rather focus on the list of projects that I'd like to see come to fruition (I've got a bunch of them). So, that's what I'm doing. If big-momma-publisher sees me doing my thing and wants to pick me up, that'd be lovely. But, I'm not going to hold my breath.<br />
<br />
The first project I decided to tackle was the Love Letters series. As I invested time into the project, I was inspired to create a website to collect other people's love letters, if they wanted to share them. I've been running the <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/" target="_blank">jab's Love Letters website</a> since November and encourage everyone to come and take a look.<br />
<br />
I wanted the website to have a solid and professional looking Home Page and I had a few NC local <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/community/photographers" target="_blank">photographers</a> agree to be featured! Check out their work and book their services! <br />
<br />
The website offers a <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/submit-your-letter" target="_blank">simple contact form</a> so that people can send in their letters! <br />
<br />
I also thought it would be nice to allow people to post <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/pictures" target="_blank">snapshots of love</a>, so we've got a <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/pictures/submit-your-picture" target="_blank">submission form</a> for that as well. <br />
<br />
I'd really like people to get comfortable with the idea to send us <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/about/love-letter-videos" target="_blank">Love Letter videos</a> so that we can post them to our <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/jabsLoveLetters" target="_blank">YouTube Channel</a>, but that's probably going to take a while; or it may be something that I can explore for book signing events. if you're a YouTube junkie, please subscribe to the channel. I would much appreciate it!<br />
<br />
If you're interested in purchasing an <i><u><b>autographed copy</b></u></i> of either of the books, I will have them available for purchase on the site (only Book 1 is available at the time of this blog post). If you aren't worried about having an autographed copy and/or would like information on how to find an eBook version of the books - I've got that <a href="http://jabsloveletters.com/about/the-books" target="_blank">information available</a> on the website as well. <br />
<br />
***If you have any problems with the website...a link, a form submission, a purchase, etc...please let me know - you can email info@jabsloveletters.com and tell me what's going on. I would appreciate your support in this matter, as I am running in 15 bazillion directions and sometimes smaller details are missed (ack - did I admit that?! sure enough did...)<br />
<br />
<b>One of the most important things to know</b> about the jab's Love Letters website is that new love letters (and pictures) are posted <b><u>EVERY THURSDAY</u></b>. Visit the site each week to see how people are expressing love and appreciation to each other.<br />
<br />
Tell your friends...<br />
Email your favorite news station...<br />
Post a comment on your various social networks...<br />
<br />
TALK IT UP!!! Valentine's Day is coming up and it's a perfect shoo-in... <br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
Jenny - The Professional (Part 2) is coming soon...<br />
...and we'll discuss a little bit more about the first two books that I've published. <br />
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-49886729851626306082011-12-05T11:16:00.001-05:002011-12-05T11:24:43.517-05:00finding the right balanceI haven't written in a while, because I've been working on publishing some books. Kinda kills me, really. I can't believe that I've moved forward with that purpose. That I am, in fact, living the dream. And, it's amazing how many people are living it with me. This isn't something I could do alone. And as I consider that though, I wonder how many other dreams are, in fact, lived alone. There's an extensive amount of emotional support coming at me from different angles. I wonder if that's been predetermined for me, since I am fragile; or if that kind of support is given to each dreamer, in different ways, from different voices, but still given.<br />
<br />
Anyway, to the point:<br />
<br />
As I work on collecting content for future books, it dawns on me that if I don't continue to feed the fountain of raw content, that one day when I am searching for new thoughts to expand on, they will not be there....<br />
<br />
A completely unacceptable fate. Especially, since this is my job. New content - raw or polished - is my job.<br />
<br />
And so, as I get to learn this new position, it occurs to me the importance of finding the right balance. There's so many different things that I am in charge of, for myself and for others...in the last 6 weeks, I've chided myself for spending too much time on one thing. I haven't yet established a solid enough pattern to write things down on a schedule, but then, I'd like to force myself to be open to creating the schedule as it goes....<br />
<br />
which can only work if I am self-disciplined enough to get the lesser fun things done.<br />
<br />
Balance.<br />
<br />
I mean, really?! Because at this point, it's the balance of fun and not-so-fun. It's all work, but then it would be profitable if it wasn't. But, I am very lucky to be able to category all my work as fun and not-so-fun....I mean, it could be much, much worse. It could be terrible and even-more-terrible. I will count my blessings; and find the balance.J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-2047462991404953112011-09-27T21:25:00.000-04:002011-09-27T21:25:27.969-04:00hippo<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cWQMp1EsSOHPVUlo7hYLJP5Cn_DE1ZxWOUKjRYhkduK7zpqIng0FmQo3vnAgchRiOMAdTTrwSzG6nDUQyDEPePr50vly3D6YnE1kHWitQTBFjJzKsoF6ArQ74_fs5NdrDi5zgHqJYjE/s1600/2cjxpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cWQMp1EsSOHPVUlo7hYLJP5Cn_DE1ZxWOUKjRYhkduK7zpqIng0FmQo3vnAgchRiOMAdTTrwSzG6nDUQyDEPePr50vly3D6YnE1kHWitQTBFjJzKsoF6ArQ74_fs5NdrDi5zgHqJYjE/s200/2cjxpg.jpg" width="118" /></a>I wasn't the teddy bear kind of girl.<br />
I used to sleep with a hippo.<br />
<br />
The hippo, named Hippo (I was <i><b>so</b></i> creative as a child, wasn't I?), appeared in my life as a gift about the time I turned 8 years old. I don't know why I felt an immediate and intense bond with this small, purple stuffed animal; but I did.<br />
<br />
I proudly slept with this animal as I grew up, toting him with me wherever I went: to sleepovers and summer camps, senior high school retreats and college dorm rooms. He's even traveled internationally with me - on several occasions, in fact (lucky little hippo).<br />
<br />
And then I got married; and I respectfully placed him on the night table on my side of the bed. He was my guard-hippo; and only every now and then would I indulge in a hippo-snuggle, mostly if I was taking a nap solo or if my husband was gone for the weekend.<br />
<br />
During my separation, I kept Hippo close (he's <i><b>my</b></i> family after all), but I wouldn't sleep-snuggle with him. There was something desperately sad and lonely in the act of embracing a stuffed animal after I had chosen a man to embrace in bed for the rest of my life and then went back on that promise.<br />
<br />
Even now, divorce settled and water under the bridge, Hippo stands guard more than he provides comfort. Just because it doesn't feel right anymore. I am sure he understands, old friends always do. But it makes me sad.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-77585307576320436862011-09-24T23:50:00.000-04:002011-09-25T13:38:18.756-04:00reflections on familyI am currently reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Familyhood-Paul-Reiser/dp/1401324320">Paul Reiser's Familyhood</a>.<br />
This is the result one of those little trails in life that came up unexpected, and I took the opportunity to explore it. <br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
"Hey, the bookstore in that shopping center is closing. Want to go check it out?"<br />
<br />
Of course. I was game for just about anything on that lovely, childless afternoon. I could relish in my ability to be and act irresponsible. I hadn't "just perused" a bookstore in a long time; and I was certainly interested in enjoying the fact that I had no child tagging along to gripe and complain as I lingered over the shelves of books and CD's. <br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
I walked alone through the shelves, just as I used to when my parents took me during my teenage years. It's an intense solitary string of moments when you open your mind to evaluate whether new stories, songs and information will become a part of your existence.<br />
<br />
I have countless happy moments of learning lived in the quiet corners of bookstores. <br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
The new Paul Reiser book shouted at me from its predominate display.<br />
I thought: <i>Hey, I know that guy!</i><br />
And in a bookstore full of yet-unknowns, it is always nice to see a familiar face (or name). <br />
<br />
I am familiar with Paul's expression through his first book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0553573136/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_2?pf_rd_p=486539851&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe-1&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=1401324320&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=1X7NCV9BS3H59EHJFT1Z">Couplehood</a>. My uncle gave me that book when I started dating seriously and I enjoyed Paul's perspective of coupling immensely. It became a kind of subconscious subtext for me as I moved along in relationships.<br />
<br />
Just a note: I haven't read Paul's second book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Babyhood-Paul-Reiser/dp/0380728729/ref=pd_sim_b1">Babyhood</a>, because I was very much in the midst of dealing with my own budding courtship and sooner-than-expected baby's arrival.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
My definition of family has been challenged, yet again, through my recent divorce.<br />
I mean, who doesn't already have issues with defining their family as they grow - which is something that Paul explores - but, I feel like divorce, when there's a young child (or children) involved presents a challenge to the splitting partners on how their not-yet-realized "family unit" will be maintained, if at all.<br />
<br />
I would suspect that there are issues outlining a definition no matter how old the children are, a truth I can attest to, as I have seen my own parents struggle to maintain their relationship. I am the child with a child, waiting to hear about boundaries, lines in the sand and having to establish a few of my own, for the protection of my own heart. <br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
And, as I work to carve out my own meaning and definition of family - the one that I want to banner-carry through my existence and for my son, I know - that for me - the participants included aren't just blood relatives.<br />
<br />
They are the handful of people that have seen me at my weakest and most vulnerable, and have encouraged me to keep moving forward because they love and support me no matter what. They are the people that love my child and engage in his development on a direct level, knowing that their influence of love and acceptance will positively impact him.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
I am not sure that Paul will get to this. I haven't gotten into the book very far yet and I expect that he'll talk more about the family that is right there in front of him: his wife and two boys, and their adventures together. <br />
<br />
But his first couple of chapters have my mind churning through the brain-compost and I feel like the seeds of self-reflection are already taking root and sprouting.<br />
<br />
I'll probably struggle to get through this book. There will be another wave of mourning over the family unit I started that now suffers through an awkward existence of halting development. There will mostly likely be a wave of mourning over acknowledging that my dream of a house full of boys (one big one and a handful of smaller ones) is most likely not a realistic life-path for me anymore....I can actually already feel the premonitional heart-tug, in a sad kind of way.<br />
<br />
I am not saying that things can't change- just saying that the elements that make it what it is are heavy-sided. <br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
In the midst of my self-reflection and honorific mournful rite, I am thankful for the handful of individuals who love me like family, because they are my family.<br />
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-41473171865180092662011-09-18T23:53:00.000-04:002011-09-19T00:12:06.795-04:00adventures in camping (april 2011)I went camping with my boyfriend and my son together for the first time.<br />
Let me clarify.<br />
<br />
It was the first time I went on a camping trip with my new boyfriend. We had started dating the month before and things were going well. He was easy to get along with and, although we were concerned about long term compatibility, we were mostly content to enjoy the moment. He didn't seem to mind dealing with the fact that I was a single mom and applauded me for my efforts in investing in my child's development. He was nice to my kid, which is really the extent to which a girl in my position can ask for without crossing a line. This guy took really good care of me, something that I had been missing in a life partner for a while up until this point, so I was lapping him up; trying my best not to be over-gluttonous (clearly, I wasn't ashamed of a little gluttony). <br />
<br />
And, it was the first time I was taking my kid, who lives with moderate autism, camping. The kid's atypical sensory processing is hard to judge and is more than a little exhausting when it's off kilter more than usual, which is all dependent on his ability to cope...or not (which, in itself, is dependent on things like rest, health, eating right, clothing fabrics/tags, potty issues, new environments, routines...you get the point). I've committed to making sure that he experiences as much as he can, as much as I am able to manage as his mom. That's really the crux of it: I have to have a pretty decent inner reserve in order to help him manage and cope through new sensory experiences. I do the best I can as a single career-professional. I am by no means perfect, but I give it my best shot.<br />
<br />
Thank goodness for a good group of camping friends!<br />
The choice to haul a bunch of stuff into the middle of the woods and "set up house" is not one easily made. Camping is a lot of work. Period. But, with the right people, it is also a lot of fun!<br />
<br />
The three of us were sort of having fun. We were learning, which is really all I can say.<br />
<br />
The kid's initial meltdown (loud and obnoxious) mellowed into a resigned curiosity. He asked about going home a couple of times that first night. I didn't blame him. After all that fuss, I wanted to go home too. I felt so bad for my boyfriend who had basically had to set up our tent by himself, while I managed the spazzed-out little human. I tried to make it up to him much later that evening, but I don't think he'll ever understand how much I appreciated his hard work. <br />
<br />
The next day was stormy: literally and figuratively.<br />
<br />
We were experiencing a pretty forceful spring storm, which ended up lasting a solid half of the day, though it was an off-and-on kind of thing. The guys tied up tarps so that we would have shelter outside of the tents. We gathered our camping chairs close together and talked about how big the raindrops were.<br />
<br />
My kid, who at the time was dealing with an Angry Bids obsession, was trying to overcome his disappointment (which was always loudly conveyed) at the lack of power supply to support his (my) technical devices. It was unfair to expect him to cold-turkey off the game, so I would charge the phone using the car-jack every now-and-then handing over the distraction at opportune times - hating myself for giving in to the easy-way-out; knowing that I should have just let him out-think his boredom.<br />
<br />
We enjoyed a bit of rock crawling that day. My nerves were high, not really knowing if the kid would enjoy the bumpy ride or not. I was on edge the entire time, on alert for when he suddenly decided he'd had enough. It didn't come. For some of the extreme bumps, he'd look to me for assurance that this was indeed "fun" and that we weren't in danger. Every single time I gave him a full smile to brush off his misgivings. The truth was the ride was one of the roughest I had ever been on, and we stayed out for a really long time. By the end of it, I was supremely low on any reserves and didn't have much patience when the kid started whining about not wanting to stop.<br />
<br />
Back at camp, I headed straight to the tent, told him to lay down and about passed out. I didn't completely let go for sleep, because my mommy-sense was still on high. There was no one else to care for the kid - I didn't expect the boyfriend to do it since he was laying out on the air mattress beside me - and I didn't want to ask one of the other families. They were extended friends, and though I am sure they wouldn't have minded, I wasn't in the frame of mind to ask. I rested poorly. Eventually, I decided to get up, not being able to stand the fitful tossing anymore. The boyfriend was hardcore snoozed-out. I was envious. The kid was a-flutter with energy and I hoped it meant that he would sleep well that evening. I headed over to his part of the tent and inspected his pallet. My heart sank. Lake Superior was stealthily hiding underneath his sleeping bag. I assume that a zip seal wasn't closed properly on his side of the tent before the rain had started.<br />
<br />
I was grumpy incarnate.<br />
And spent the rest of the afternoon hauling his bedding outside of the tent and wriggling it out. Thank goodness one of the other guys had plenty of rope with him. He made a clothes line for me so that everything could be hung out to dry as much as possible before night fell.<br />
<br />
I was exhausted; and concerned.<br />
I didn't expect the bedding to dry completely in time. I had some extra layers that could be used, but it wouldn't be enough to keep the kid warm through the upcoming night. Night fell too soon, in my opinion, and I did the best I could. I pulled blankets from the air mattress that I was sharing with the boyfriend and covered my kid as best as his squirmy self would allow. I knew that he would need the extra layers, sleeping by himself and with a cooler night setting in after the stormy day. <br />
<br />
Pain crept up on me that night. The cool-moist air was setting into my sore muscles and joints, which were already aching from a long day on the trails. I snuggled close to my boyfriend's body. I had reserved two of the thinner blankets for our bed, knowing that we would have the benefit of body heat to see us through the night.<br />
<br />
I woke up in the middle of the night and had to use the restroom. The boyfriend needed to grab an extra layer from his baggage and rustled around a bit with the flashlight on. The kid was sleeping poorly, moaning as he moved again to get comfortable. I got up and inspected his pallet. It was cold and slightly damp, mostly due to the fact that the sleeping bag hadn't completely dried out. I adjusted the covers to make the most of what was dry and laid down close to the child to warm him.<br />
<br />
Let's be honest, it occurred to me that I should stay with him and see the rest of the night through keeping him warm. But I was hurting and couldn't even imagine what kind of pain I would be dealing with in the morning air, were I to spend the night on the ground. I left him after a bit and made my way back to the air mattress, beside my boyfriend's warm body.<br />
<br />
"How is he?"<br />
<br />
"I thought you were asleep. I was trying to be quiet," I answered sofly.<br />
<br />
"How is he," he asked me again.<br />
<br />
"He's awake and trying to get comfortable. He's cold, but I laid down with him for a little bit to warm him up. The sleep bag is still a little damp, which doesn't help; but I adjusted the blankets as much as possible to keep his dry."<br />
<br />
"Do you want him to come sleep with us," he whispered the question to me, his concern for the child's condition unmasked. <br />
<br />
I raised my head a little in order to get a better view of his face in the semi-dark and said flatly, "We will not get any sleep. Do you understand that? He'll be too excited and we'll be miserable in the morning."<br />
<br />
Had it been light enough, he probably would have seen that dead-cold stare in my eyes that people tell me I have an uncanny way of delivering. I needed him to be sure of this decision. My heart was flip-flopping. I knew this was the right solution, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to ask him to deal with the responsibility of it with me; to play care-giver (i.e. daddy) for the night and put himself out for the good of the little human being in my charge. <br />
<br />
"Well, at least he won't be cold."<br />
<br />
My heart swelled. I called the kid to come to bed. I told him to bring a blanket. I was adjusting closer to my boyfriend so that I could be between them, trying to provide a buffer for him from the little boy antics we were inviting to our bed.<br />
<br />
"He'll get warmer faster in between us."<br />
<br />
I knew that; and I didn't have any energy left to argue my point. I had to trust that this guy wasn't offering this sacrifice without understanding that there would be consequences; or at least, I would deal with the outcome, his possible lack of understanding, in the morning. I told my little man to crawl over me to the middle of the bed; he obliged with a little too much energy for my taste. He snuggled in, reaching his arms out to touch the two adults that encased his body and sighed deeply. I soothingly encouraged him to settle down and he curled into his pillow. He was blissfully happy and getting warmer by the second.<br />
<br />
I looked over my son's head into the darkness towards my boyfriend's face. I reached over and rested my hand on his chest, just over his heart, and offered an emotionally-rich, "Thank you." <br />
<br />
What I really meant was, "I love you."<br />
<br />
And, sleep came; the morning light, when it woke me up, was a little aged, and I quietly thanked the heavens that we had been able to truly sleep and get some rest. I looked over towards my boys, two of my favorite people, and saw that they still slept.<br />
<br />
I giggled. The boyfriend had protected his face space with a pillow at some point in the night. Smart guy; I knew there were some obvious reasons for why I liked him so much.<br />
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-8055116038949943232011-09-08T22:25:00.002-04:002011-09-08T22:25:17.009-04:00the beauty of ripeness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I am awed by this picture. It seems simple enough. A tomato plant with varying stages of ripeness portrayed. And yet, it is the ripeness, the <a href="http://jabsfromwithin.blogspot.com/2009/02/sanguine.html">redness</a> that awes me.<br />
<br />
This is my first year tending tomato plants. I was late in the joining in the gardening community and restricted with how deeply I could commit. I live in an apartment complex with only a small patio to claim for growing space. I found 3 tiny plants at <a href="http://www.walmart.com/ip/Garden-Center/5774967">Walmart </a>for 50 cents each - I figured I wouldn't be over extending myself if the investment to tend didn't pan out. I had 3 medium-to-large sized pots and planted them with an inexperienced, <a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/green_thumb">still-hopeful thumb who wished to be green</a>. <br />
<br />
It was a very matter-of-fact attitude with which I told the plants, "You have soil. You'll have full sun each afternoon. And I will try to remember to water you as much as possible. If you are going to grow, have at it. If you don't, I don't blame you."<br />
<br />
And they grew. I was amazed.<br />
I purchased a wire frame so that they would feel supported as they grew taller.<br />
<br />
I about jigged around the patio when I realized buds were giving way to actual fruit. Little pea-sized tomatoes were sprouting at different levels of the three plants. I considered it miraculous, since I wasn't a good tender; meaning, I wasn't consistent with the water they so needed to combat the full-sun afternoons. <br />
<br />
And yet, they grew.<br />
Bulbous spheres of would-be juicy fruit plumped-out in front of my eyes. I was delighted and proud. And thankful. <br />
<br />
Green started turning to yellow. My mouth watered with anticipation.<br />
And then, a storm popped out of nowhere. This storm was strong, the winds raging. In fact, it produced a tornado only a few miles away from my apartment complex. I wasn't prepared. Had no idea that it was coming. Didn't know to protect my growing plants from the violence about to ensue. A hail beating came first. Then winds so hard that they rocked the plants back and forth until they toppled over, slamming the growing vines and fruit to the cement patio. I saw this unfold, knowing it wasn't safe to go out into the storm, but feeling so sad for something that I had been caring for, had been tending towards growth being dealt hard, hard blows of nature's reality.<br />
<br />
After the storm, I inspected the plants and turned them right-side up. Three of the tomatoes had disconnected from the plant and were brought tenderly inside to continue ripening on my counter.<br />
<br />
The others looked intact and I asked them to be okay.<br />
"Boy, that was tough. I hope that you are going to be okay. I mean, I understand if you feel set back and need to recalibrate or something before growing again; but know that I would really appreciate your continued growth. I thought you guys were doing so well."<br />
<br />
A few mornings later, during a routine inspection of the plants, I saw this beautiful sight and my heart welled with pride. This little tomato, my first really red one, was proudly coming to terms with its growth cycle and would be ready to eat at any moment. I saved it's picking until later in the day, just before dinner. I figured one more morning and afternoon of sunlight would be a perfect end to its story of becoming ripe.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
I couldn't help but appreciate how many of us are like this little tomato. Doggedly honoring the growth cycle, no matter what trials come along, in order to reach our full potential of ripeness.<br />
<br />
I can't help but be proud of us all. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-83714375731101541892011-09-02T22:54:00.000-04:002011-09-02T22:54:39.568-04:00reason and logic be damned
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The magnetism was intense. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She couldn’t deny its existence as they grew to know each
other more and more. It pulled at her anytime he was close. It was like the
smell of baking cookies: tantalizing and mouthwatering with the promise of
sweetness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Knowing that he was near warmed her. She felt washed in
yet-unknown nostalgia; you could say comfort, which made her feel inexplicably
safe and accepted. What bothered her was not being able to understand why.
There was no history between them, no relationship beyond that of friendly
acquaintance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, as she made the occasion to spend more and more time
with him, the pull was stronger, harder to ignore. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the first night they ventured into the friendly space,
sharing time just getting to know each other over a few drinks, she felt this
barely-escapable need to grab his face and kiss the breath out of him. The
desire to touch him made her fingers tingle with want. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, then, there was a weekend away. It was particularly
difficult because they were together as friends with two other couples. It made
the situation perfect for falling into each other and exploring the essence of
shared space. There was a moment of enlightenment for her: they worked really
well with each other. Their souls met and connected on the same living plane.
Being was easy, happier.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She noted all these things as they prepared and shared meals
together, working towards a common goal in the kitchen. She observed as he made
2 perfect cups of coffee and invited her to the porch swing for several moments
of appreciating the cool night air, the rain and the pressure of their bodies
sitting close together. She was awed at the absolute-happy intonation of their
shared periodic sighs. It was as if something deep within them had found
contentment, a soul-satisfying contentment that ignores all arguments of reason
or logic. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next morning, through the pouring-down rain, there was a
silent parallel-reality tryst; silent except for the heavy intakes of breaths
and soul-cleansing exhales. Ties of deeper connection were double knotted in
some alternate universe in front of the others as they spent an innocent
morning talking over nothing in particular. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her life was sucked into a deep state of want: intense want
over this soul that had been in front of her for over a year. The wanting
expanded to all layers of her existence. She wanted him all to herself, for
shared hours of deep breathing and pressed bodies. She wanted him to be happy
and asked him what it would take; and encouraged him to be himself, because the
him that she saw was delightful, intense, intoxicating, and she was sad to learn
that he didn’t realize the whole of it yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their first kiss happened shortly after the weekend trip. It
was a night of ignoring reason, of sharing wine and talk, of teasing the fire
of passion until it was too much to contain. Laying down on the couch together,
he had rubbed her face gently with his thumb and titled her head just so before
pressing his lips against hers. She exploded. Her mind was mush. The want of
it, the want of him; the want of more, of as much as she could hold, completely
possessed her. She found a new default existence and was happy to find him
there to share it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beyond happy, she was blissed-out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The magnetism was intense; is intense. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She remembers that first kiss and tingles still shoot
through her body. She thinks about the kisses that have followed and pure joy floods
her sense of being. She wants more kisses now and finds that the want leaves
her breathless and soul-lonely. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They fostered the connection for a short time. It made them
full and happy. There was a new-found realization of togetherness, of
partnership that their base-level shared-essence understood and accepted as
perfectly normally, finally right. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their reason and logic scoffed and made spectacle of all the arguments proving their companionship doomed. The new, young shared-ness was no
match for practiced cynicism.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reason and logic won. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is the saddest thing, she thinks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their personalities battled the case of differences, of
extreme differences. They stomped and raged the particulars; and their minds
conceded.<span> </span>Wills were soon to follow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They cried over it, at first together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, she cries alone; damning reason and logic to the
hell-holes in which they belong for destroying such a beautiful, organic
co-existence. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-5132158010509269882011-09-01T08:14:00.003-04:002011-09-01T08:15:02.255-04:00read the headlinesWe fall in love, choose to love, commit to love and get married.<br />
<br />
And for many, the assumption is that love will stay the same. Time passes and growth happens; but dang it, this love will always be here, supporting us to carry us through anything that life brings.<br />
<br />
But love is based on connection and connection is based on....what?<br />
<br />
I think that to a certain extent, connection is ethereal link to someone else. It is hard to explain why we meet certain people on certain planes. Connection, and the associated attraction, is so much deeper than just sexuality; it is a brass tacks kind of understanding between people at a certain level...not necessarily all levels.<br />
<br />
People marry. People change.<br />
At least, we hope so, right?<br />
<br />
An individual should continue towards growth, continue to learn from the world around them. Their life experiences outside of the marriage connection will effect change in their default character and personality, in their thought processes. It may be dramatic; but it could also be subtle. Either way, the hope is that we are dynamic characters in our own life story.<br />
<br />
These changes may affect the "feeling" of love, but hopefully, not the commitment to love.<br />
<br />
It occurs to me that change is inevitable, though we gripe and complain...maybe even resist.<br />
<br />
It also occurs to me that the best way to foster the marriage connection through the time that passes and ages us is to consistently visit the brass tacks connection with our partner. If you can't be honest and vulnerable with your person about who you are and how you're changing....if you can't trust them enough with your base level humanity, why would you make vows and promise to spend your life with them?<br />
<br />
Revisit the brass tacks: talk, share, dust-off the connection.<br />
<br />
You can't be on the same page with someone unless you are willing to read the headlines as they appear on the news stand.<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
And I believe the responsibility to share as well as the act of asking for sharing stands directly on the doorstep of both hearts within the marriage connection. The union of two souls requires give and take on so many levels, this being one of the most important of them all.<br />
<br />
<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-14146352455049972542011-08-31T21:48:00.000-04:002011-08-31T21:48:18.412-04:00my personal food chain experienceThere is something lovely about being able to be a part of the "circle of life." I guess I could also say the food chain, in this particular instance.<br />
<br />
I had the pleasant surprise while traveling this past weekend to come upon a laden apple tree. This medium sized tree was full, nine-months-pregnant-kind-of-full, with apples. They were small and medium, mostly green...there were a couple of red-shaded ones. And there were a ton (A TON) of them ready for picking. And so, I did.<br />
<br />
I didn't really have any idea what I would do with them. I mean, sure, I cook. I love to. But I didn't really think that I would have much success. After gathering all the ready-apples and lugging them to the car, I knew that responsibility was knocking at my door. I mean, there are people all over the world who are hungry and would love to have such a treasure in their bellies.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-DYv8rMrj1Yu7FNXCWAoQgFgB2-6MaDq_z8A_NDozBgQIh7DeF_xygA9g_SD2a8JzmHDSGh51ZqUlUrs4UUwCOZq_GziJdr49CoB5lhEUPwzGcaRXFOM4zLayy5CQF9kYAYYaM3MU0M/s1600/IMAG0380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-DYv8rMrj1Yu7FNXCWAoQgFgB2-6MaDq_z8A_NDozBgQIh7DeF_xygA9g_SD2a8JzmHDSGh51ZqUlUrs4UUwCOZq_GziJdr49CoB5lhEUPwzGcaRXFOM4zLayy5CQF9kYAYYaM3MU0M/s320/IMAG0380.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And I definitely considered this treasure. Free goodies found, almost literally, at the front door step. I mean, what is a girl to do?!<br />
<br />
Reasearch.<br />
<br />
With so much plenty, I decided to tackle the masses and make applesauce. I pulled up a <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/sarahs-applesauce/detail.aspx">basic recipe</a> (thanks, Sarah) and modified it to my needs. I like applesauce as much at the next 30 year old, which means...mostly as a side with my potato pancakes; and my little man of 6 years likes it well enough; but there were still a TON of apples left (meaning more sauce to come), so I knew I had to take it a step further. I looked up a <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/best-ever-muffins/detail.aspx">basic recipe</a> for muffins and modified it..which means that changed it almost completely since I added applesauce instead of milk and used Bread Flour because I had no All Purpose in the house. <br />
<br />
And, voila!<br />
In reality, they were only posing as muffins. The combination of ingredients lent the actual hand-to-mouth experience to more of a "baked applesauce pudding-type hot pocket." In other words, <a href="http://jabsyummygoodness.blogspot.com/">yummy-goodness</a>. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jXOkT2P74bMLFI33hSmb-B4Z4nDSj0A-OntOAoryMU8GKsyIufWMfLwhZzHvkSiSchyEBq29bnJGf6VEqQkK979czFTSQo2usZ5Y9t0M1cgdA-s-vpN_5PWTc9G7j6A2_qkf7kpGsRU/s1600/IMAG0391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jXOkT2P74bMLFI33hSmb-B4Z4nDSj0A-OntOAoryMU8GKsyIufWMfLwhZzHvkSiSchyEBq29bnJGf6VEqQkK979czFTSQo2usZ5Y9t0M1cgdA-s-vpN_5PWTc9G7j6A2_qkf7kpGsRU/s320/IMAG0391.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I am thankful for this personal food chain experience.<br />
I am so happy to have come upon that<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Giving_Tree"> sweet little tree</a> ready to share its tart, crisp apples with me; and with all of those that will benefit from my cooking. <br />
<br />
I cannot wait to visit said tree again...there were still plenty of apples still waiting for their due date.J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-30707175393137626362011-08-25T20:12:00.002-04:002011-08-25T22:11:00.717-04:00Love on a ShuffleI asked him to give me music.
<br />
<br />Don’t get me wrong. I like flowers as much as the next girl…maybe more; but you can’t take fresh-cut flowers to Africa with you. And music…well, when someone shares their playlist with you, I feel like they share a piece of their soul. There’s nothing like getting to know someone through their taste in music. It is a whole new perspective, an indirect facet to their personality that sparkles with rhythm and melody.
<br />
<br />I was headed to Kenya for a 9 day trip and thought it would be nice to “get to know him” through some of his music. Sure, it is more romantic if the guy hands over a CD in the shy “I-made-you-a-mix-tape” kind of way; but I didn’t have the luxury for romance. I was looking at a combination of flights totaling 18 plus hours (and that was just getting there), never mind the associated down-time in the airports.
<br />
<br />I flat out asked.
<br />
<br />“If I give you my Shuffle, will you please add some music on it so that I can listen to it during my trip.”
<br />
<br />“Sure,” he said nonchalantly.
<br />
<br />My heart busted out in a break dance.
<br />What he didn’t realize is that I don’t often flat out ask for anything. I tend to wait until it is offered so as not to be an inconvenience. That’s just how I operate. I can usually take care of myself just fine. But I was slowly opening up to this guy; and my heart was trusting him more and more in spite of my typical behavior. I was melting for him, and trying desperately not to let it show.
<br />
<br />There were some technical difficulties with the Shuffle I already had. No one could get it to work. Something was amiss with the connection between the Shuffle and the ear buds; I even tried buying new buds, but it still didn’t work. I wasn’t too thrilled about having to buy another, but I wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity to get my hands on his music.
<br />
<br />(Sure, it’s true that I have an iPod touch as well. I could have given him that, but I was planning to download a ton of podcasts onto that space).
<br />
<br />It was the day before I was leaving on my trip. I went to Walmart on my way to the office and picked up a 2GB metallic green shuffle, the kind that comes in a small plastic cube-like package. I handed it over to him without bothering to open it.
<br />
<br />I asked, “I know that it’s last minute, but can you add the playlist onto this?”
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<br />“Yea,” he said, “not a problem.”
<br />
<br />I wanted to hug him.
<br />
<br />I came in the next morning with my mind in ten thousand places. I hadn’t really packed yet. I mean, I had tried, but things had been so busy with work, with prepping the kid and his dad for my absence, I hadn’t really take care of me yet. There was a pile of stuff in an open suitcase in my living room; and that’s about as far as I had gotten. I was stressed. I hadn’t traveled internationally since 2003; and knew that I would undoubtedly forget something.
<br />
<br />I was only in the office for a few hours to wrap up loose ends before being gone for the entire upcoming business week. I powered up my computer and grabbed my coffee mug for a fill up. I met him in the hallway on my way to the break room. He had been walking purposefully towards my office with anticipation written all over his face. I had no idea why. As I said before, I was distracted; and when I saw him coming towards me, all I could think was how sweet his face looked and how much I was going to miss it while I was gone.
<br />
<br />With our bodies in front of each other, I met his bright, only slightly mischievous eyes with my own, happy and inquisitive. Before I could blink, he dropped to one knee.
<br />
<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">What the heck</span>, I thought; which is all I had time for…
<br />
<br />He pulls out the Shuffle case with one hand and lifts open the lid, as if it were a ring box hiding a beautiful diamond, with the other.
<br />
<br />“Will you….listen to my music,” he asked a little breathlessly.
<br />
<br />My eyes must have been the size of saucer plates.
<br />A giggle erupted playfully from my lips.
<br />
<br />“Of course! I would love to!”
<br />
<br />I leaned down, pressing my hands against his cheeks and nuzzled my nose against his. It was hard to not full-out kiss him right there.
<br />
<br />He popped up quickly, I think to avoid any undue observation from others, with a smug-sweet grin on his face, and handed me the Shuffle case.
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<br />“I had to whittle down the playlist quite a bit. Your original Shuffle had a lot more space than this one. You’ll be happy to know that most of the country was nixed; but I left all the Johnny Cash songs.”
<br />
<br />“You what?!”
<br />
<br />He knows that Johnny Cash is not my favorite. My question came out as an accusatory squeak, and I almost immediately chided myself. The whole point was that I needed to be open-minded and listen to his music, his soul.
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<br />“I’m kidding,” he chuckled. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he explained after evaluating my expression. So, clearly, I wasn’t hiding my distaste as well as I had hoped.
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<br />“Yea, I was up half the night. I had to listen to a lot of it to make sure that I wanted it to make the final list. It should be good. There are still plenty of songs on it.”
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<br />My heart was a pool on the floor. He would never know how much his time and attention to detail meant to me. I couldn’t wait to get those ear buds in. It wouldn’t be the same as having just one CD, where the focus on the songs is a little more direct. But instead, it would be like looking at a rainbow; enjoying the different shades and perspectives of color. And I was okay with that.
<br />
<br />“Thank you,” I said. And I tried to let my heart shine through my eyes.
<br />
<br />“Sure. No problem.”
<br />
<br />----------
<br />
<br />The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of activity. I left the office later than I had wanted, which was typical. I ran home to dash about, doing my best to focus and get ready as quickly as possible.
<br />
<br />I met him for lunch, just a little alone-together time before my international adventure, which would take me to the other side of the world. He gave me a big hug afterward at my car and told me to have fun. I loved him. But, instead of saying so, I said, “Thanks. Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”
<br />
<br />We shared a mutually affectionate grin and parted ways.
<br />
<br />Everything after that was seriously a blur.
<br />
<br />Running home. Last minute packing: stuffing anything I could think of into any crevice I could find. Meeting up with friends. Getting into the car. Riding to the local airport. Checking in. Getting through security (giggling that they stopped my travel partner for an extensive search, the most unassuming and least sinister looking woman in the world). Grabbing a Passion Tea at Starbucks. Plugging my laptop in……and going back to work. The loose ends were a little slippery at the office and I still needed to tie a few of them off.
<br />
<br />Before I knew it, I was sitting – as comfortably as possible in a middle seat on an airplane – and getting situated for my overnight flight to London. I grabbed all the necessary items from my carry-on: book, journal, iPod touch and Shuffle. The first hour or two was occupied with settling in, listening to safety information, picking a drink, enjoying an awkward dinner (there’s really no elbow room being in the middle seat) and waiting for things to get quiet in the cabin.
<br />
<br />As it was getting dark, I decided to – finally – pop in the ear buds to my Shuffle. The activity of the day and the reality of what lay ahead of me were working together to get me to rest as much as possible; and so I decided to close my eyes and to single-focus my mind on the music.
<br />
<br />Ear buds in, I rested my head back and pressed play.
<br />There was nothing else I could do but giggle.
<br />
<br />AC/DC’s <span style="font-style:italic;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkk5nx6PRfA">Let Me Put My Love Into You</a></span> rocked-out through the buds.
<br />I might have blushed, but it was probably too dark for anyone to notice.
<br />
<br />I made a mental note to kiss him extra good when I got home.
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<br />
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<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-38383923925731210682011-08-17T23:36:00.004-04:002011-08-18T07:24:13.042-04:00Flirt vs. Caress<span style="font-weight:bold;">Flirt</span>
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<br />Verb: Behave as though attracted to or trying to attract someone, but without serious intentions
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<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Caress</span>
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<br />Verb: Touch or stroke gently or lovingly
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<br />------
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<br />I used the word "flirt" in our conversation tonight. In relation to how much we like to flirt with each other; and how there seems to exist between us a flirty attraction that needs satisfaction of a sort.
<br />
<br />I left the conversation disappointed in my choice of words.
<br />Even without pulling the definition, flirt is a word that lacks substance when it leaves my mouth. It's tasteless. It belittles the interaction we share.
<br />
<br />There is no assumed attraction between us, no attempt at attraction.
<br />Attraction is and binds us together; it is in no way presumed. It has weaved an intricate tie between our souls. We meet genuinely interested and concerned for each other. Our meeting offers a sacred-like tryst; and it doesn't matter than no one else understands, that everyone who observes is confused.
<br />
<br />And it's sacrilegious to state that our intentions are anything but serious. We are serious about each other in our own way. We deliberately acknowledge each other's value and worth.
<br />
<br />As I was beating myself up over our conversation and my very poor choice of words...it came to me that I would have used a different word, if I could have the opportunity to rewind our discussion: caress.
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<br />I don't want to say that I flirt with you; I want to say that I caress your heart.
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<br />In those moments that we meet, when attraction brings us together, I bliss-out on our mutual respect. I desire to hear your perspectives and maybe have the chance to share them. I long to feel the pulse and rhythm of your heartbeat, your breath. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I touch your heart and that you touch mine; and that sometimes, we have a hard time letting go.
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<br />I'd like to be clear regarding my action towards you. I caress you; I do not flirt. J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-85113521582534799822011-08-15T20:41:00.002-04:002011-08-15T21:52:13.211-04:00New ZenShe looked at me and asked, "Where are you going?"
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<br />In 10 million-bazillion directions, I thought. I follow each path and possibility that presents even the hint of adventure; and I love it. I love leading an interesting life. I love learning and putting myself in the position to be exposed to new opportunities to grow beyond my norm. If a path is blocked or turns out to be a dead end, I usually find another, with no problem, to journey along. I travel many paths at once radiating outwardly the positive energy I find.
<br />
<br />Sometimes a path is so lovely and the adventure upon it so sweet, that I am sad when it comes to an end - whatever the reason may be. And, I mourn. In the past, my mourning consumed me. Adventures stopped abruptly on all paths in order to fixate on the path that had closed, the experience that had been taken away.
<br />
<br />I've since learned that very few paths deserve the honor of the mourning-act; instead I thank the path for the inspiration and the time shared and move along. I reserve the rite to mourn for a select few. I've also learned to continue to explore the other paths even as I mourn the one that I miss. Otherwise, I miss life. And life is too short to miss.
<br />
<br />"Can you not adventure on while you wait?"
<br />
<br />Her question made me stop hard. That option had come up (for sure it did), but it didn't occur to me as viable. It was a mist-dream that had passed through my heart leaving only the fewest water droplets behind. She said it aloud and all of the sudden it was real and intense. She had given the idea life and this incarnate concept demanded that I not only consider it, but do it.
<br />
<br />I am in mourning for a beautiful path that was blocked from me. I have confidently honored the path with my genuine sadness. My act has been coming to an end, and I've known it. I've lingered in the bitter-sweet awe of "what if" considerations to the point where I've already started to admonish myself to move on. To leave the path, and focus on the others wholeheartedly; reminding myself that I've outgrown the need to fixate, which leads to detrimental pauses.
<br />
<br />Her question presented a new option. This time, instead of mourning the path and leaving it, I could mourn and stay. Stay until the opportunity opened up again. Some paths are only blocked for a period of time until they reopen again. She explained that my youthful exuberance, usually a positive trait, could lead me wrong this time.
<br />
<br />"Age offers the experience of understanding how the passage of time affects us and our choices...the paths that we take. There's no need to rush. You can explore at the same time that you wait and an answer will come to you organically, without your abrupt departure, which inevitably forces an end."
<br />
<br />My jaw dropped.
<br />I am so hungry for experience-starts, that I manufacture experience-ends more than I need to. I understand the need to be thankful and even, the need to mourn. I've learned to appreciate the growth obtained by calling an end to sadness and continuing adventures along other paths.
<br />
<br />But, now, it seems I am to learn path-patience. It is going to be a new layer of zen in my life, I know it.
<br />
<br />Man, if this is what it means to grow old, I can't wait.
<br /> J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-49750781384678387732011-08-09T21:36:00.005-04:002011-08-09T21:53:04.074-04:00getting off my butt now, thanks!I am preparing my first manuscript. I've had one too many people tell me to get off my butt and do something with my potential...
<br />
<br />..and I realized that it was pretty nigh time to listen. I am a big advocate of people doing what they love and reaching others with their talent. I tell people all the time to get off their butts and live the dream.
<br />
<br />My excuse has been...well, I am busy. Single mom, remember? Operations Manager for a small company, which means that I'm never getting my entire task list done. And I have been safe and happy in this excuse, like a cocoon, for some time now.
<br />
<br />Being poked and prodded irritates me as much as the next person; but add to that the actual fact that as long as I rest in said cocoon - safe and tucked away...boring - I am a hypocrite. Instead of living the dream, I am maintaining.
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<br />It is the recurring choice, thrive or survive, that repeats at certain intervals in life...like that darned blue sock in the whites wash.
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<br />And, if I am being completely honest, that's not the kind of reputation I want to have - let's review: hypocrite, boring, surviving - on any level: friend, career-minded woman, mom.
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<br />And, so, I am putting in the time, doing the research, getting off my butt, so that I can get my words out there.
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<br />After that, come what may.
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<br />J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518014550063932171.post-90065784607427979242011-08-07T21:46:00.003-04:002011-08-07T22:34:36.998-04:00The PromiseI have a pact with my designer. <br />Maybe it is more like an unspoken promise. <br />Either way, it will make both of our lives <span style="font-style:italic;">so much easier</span>. <br /><br />I've asked one of my good friends to design cover art for a handful of books that I am compiling content for. <br /><br />The promise I've made to him: I will not be like so many of his clients that contract him for design because they say they trust his design-sense and approve of his portfolio, but end up ruining the design process because along the way they forget themselves (they forget their lack of skill and expertise) and decide that they want to be the Designer (in-charge, can I say) instead. <br /><br />I've been in the position to manage several scopes of work where design is involved. When the client has an idea that is well thought through (for their business model) and appropriately conveyed to the Designer (list of objectives, colors, sample ideas), things work well. The Designer is free to create a within the scope and the client can comment on likes and dislikes in order to narrow it down to the "chosen" look. <br /><br />But when the client doesn't have a list of objectives, things get a little rocky. Instead of having a clearly defined scope (set of boundaries, as it were), the client likes <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">this</span></span>, but also <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;"this></span></span>...and can you add a little of <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">that</span></span>...and maybe in <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">this</span></span> color too?<br /><br />These types of clients have often done a lot of looking around, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but when it is combined with a lack of objective forethought, they've turned themselves into a kind of design zombie. There is no reason or cognitive thought. There is only the obsessive end-goal...which remains illusive, because, again, there are no real objectives...only, "Well this is nice. Why can't I have <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">this</span></span>?"<br /><br />(I could spend more time relishing in the zombie analogy, but we've all seen the movies...and I will let you imagination make the connections.)<br /><br />As Project Manager, I've heard the whining (zombie grunts and moans) and I've dealt with it...nicely. And I've sworn never to be that kind of client - ever. <br /><br />And, so now I find myself on the other side of the table (much earlier than I would have thought). With experience under my belt, I've presented my plan to the Designer. Provided several themes that are related directly to the work(s). I've said please and thank you. And I've waited for brilliance to occur. (I wouldn't have asked this particular friend to help if I didn't trust his ability to provide the type of "look" that I am going for.) <br /><br />The promise I've made to him (to me as well) includes another detail...<br />I've got enough experience "designing" and trusting in my own "eye for colors" that I know I could fall into the zombie-client role. I could spend hours looking at images and design ideas, pelting him with emails full of links to each one...oh, isn't <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">that</span></span> pretty? and wouldn't <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">this</span></span> look just right?...(don't laugh, there are plenty of clients out there like that - maybe you've had your own?) <br /><br />I decided not to look. <br />I'm going to trust in my Designer and the list of objectives that I've already submitted. I will not waste hours of time on google.com/images reviewing what my cover art <span style="font-style:italic;">could</span> look like....instead, I will wait for brilliance and make my comments.J. A. Busfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14936291232642554005noreply@blogger.com0