What If You Had Ruby Slippers?

Where would you wish to be when you clicked your heels?

Christmases Past

Because I am traveling I did not have time to write something new, so I am posting an old thing I wrote, because it does tell a story about me:

The first Christmas I can remember was when I was about 5 years old. I had asked Santa for an electric train for my gift. Wouldn’t you know it—he did leave one at our house, but he mistakenly put “To Preston” (my younger brother) on the tag. How depressing is that? You ask for a train, a vehicle with power to let you escape into all the imaginary far away places a little girl could think of to travel, only to receive a stupid baby doll that hollers “Mama” at you, all the while peeing sweetly into her little panties. Now I suppose that in 1957 no respectable little girl would even ask for, much less actually receive, an electric train. No, we were relegated to practising to become little mothers, staying home spooning gruel into one end and wiping poop from the other, of our darling little babies, whilst our HUSBANDS, the MEN, traveled the work in their trucks, trains, and planes. I wish someone would invent the toddler doll that would wake up during the night with an asthmatic wheeze and rattle in their chest, crying “Mama” in agony while it throws up on the bed and squirts diarrhea out it’s little hiney. They could name it “Reality Check Carla” or something like that. Of course, there may not be much of a market for it, maybe young women whose husbands were pushing them to have a baby could get one for their spouse…Or, it could be part of that child care course taught to high school kids instead of using those stupid eggs.

Oh, I’m sorry, I was supposed to be telling a story here. Well, that little electric train was really cool. It puffed smoke out of its fake smokestack. We thought that was pretty amazing. And as far as Betsy Wetsy was concerned, my older brother cut her head off to find out how she worked.

Several years later, when I was 9 and my sister was 18 months old, I asked for a jewelry box. In my little girl brain, I could see the little ballerina dancing around and around to the music from the music box. So, on Christmas Eve, all of us kids went to bed, too excited to sleep. After a while, we could actually hear Santa in the living room. He was playing with our toys, and from the sound of it, he seemed to be talking to Mama and Daddy. Suddenly, I could hear the music box playing—I think Santa must have enjoyed hearing it because he wound it up and let it play about 15 times. So, in the morning when we finally got out of bed and went into the living room, I saw to my horror that the jewelry box Santa brought was a satin covered, velvet lined pink box that was obviously meant for a much older girl. It had no music box, and no ballerina. The music I had been hearing was a wind up Fischer Price clock for my baby sister. I was too stunned to say anything. I tried really hard not to cry. I cannot think of a single other time in my life when I have been more disappointed.

The jewelry box I received that Christmas stayed in my possession until I was almost 50 years old. My older brother had taken a magic marker at some point and written “DUMB GIRL” inside the lid. I saw that every time I opened that box. Maybe that is why I don’t wear much jewelry.

So, fast-forward about 30 years. When my oldest daughter was 14, she could hardly wait for me to open her gift to me that year. For weeks before Christmas I had jiggled and wiggled it, shook it and held it, trying to figure out what was inside. It was not the shape or size of anything I had asked for. On that Christmas morning, Rebecca, Emily and Seth insisted that I open that gift first. Because of that, I think maybe I expected it o be a camera. Imagine my surprise, when the wrapping paper came off, to find a little jewelry box, with a ballerina and a music box! I cried like a baby! Those were uncontrollable sobs and a flood of tears. My children sat there, the looks on their faces telling me that they thought they had done something terribly wrong. How could they even begin to understand what that jewelry box meant to me? How could they know they had given me my childhood? That there was so much more than just a little jewelry box inside that gift? Yeah, a stupid as it sounds, that one moment is THE moment in my life that I cherish most. I still have that little music box, and the little ballerina presides over my most precious jewelry. All the rest of it goes into an empty baby wipes plastic box.

A year or so after I received the ballerina music box, my children surprised me again. This time, it was Emily’s gitf. That year, my son and I went together on a Saturday morning to take the test for a GED. I had never finished high school and Seth had quit as soon as he turned 16. So, to get him to go take the test, I volunteered to go with him. We both passed with flying colors, and received our GED certificates in the mail. That year, Emily gave me a high school class ring for Christmas. It has the year I took the GED test, the name of the high school I attended when I was a teenager, my first name, and a tiger on the outside of it. There is an emerald green stone, because my birthstone is an emerald. My initials are engraved on the inside. I didn’t cry like I did when I received the jewelry box, but just knowing how proud my children must have been of me was a wonderful feeling. I keep that ring in my ballerina music box.

And so, here we are at Christmas time again. I hope you have enjoyed my stories, and may you all have a memorable Christmas this year.

My Goal For This Week

Jim and I got the call we had been waiting for today--we are going to work for the National Park Service. We will be leaving Wichita, Kansas in the morning, headed for the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. This is very exciting to me, I can hardly wait to get there. So, my goal for this week:

I want to get to our destination in Arizona by Saturday afternoon. I want to take pictures of at least 5 interesting things along the way. I want to use up all the leftovers in my refrigerator. And, I want to write at least six articles by Sunday.

I know I can do all these things, and I admit, they are pretty easy goals that do not push me very hard to accomplish them. But, I will be traveling 1200 miles before I get to my destination, so that in itself is a challenge.

We'll see how I did next week.

When I Was 4

In October of 1956, my youngest brother, Bobby, was born. He was the fourth child in our family, but he was the first one I can remember seeing as a new baby. Mama brought him home from the hospital, all wrapped up tightly in a blanket. I watched her change his diaper, and saw his umbilical cord still attached to his little fat body. Of course, I did not know what it was, actually, and I can remember thinking that it was a spider stuck to his belly.

I had nightmares about that incident for years, even after I was half grown and knew what it really was. I would wake up in a sweat, thinking that a real spider had somehow gotten into my clothes and that it was trying to get into my belly.

Maybe that is where my fear of spiders comes from. I guess I'll never really know.

My Goals For This Week

The Monday Menus here at JITT can be anything you want, from meal planning to sharing your life's dreams, but for today, it is going to be about where I literally want to be by days end. We are traveling from Unicoi State Park to a temporary temporary job in Wichita, Kansas. We told them we would be there by Tuesday, which is a push for us, as we normally don't go more than 300 miles in a day, and we will have to about 450 a day to get there "on time". But, if we don't get there until Wednesday, we'll be okay.

So, my plan for today is to arrive safely just west of Memphis, Tennessee. On Tuesday, we plan to be in Wichita, and the plan for the rest of the week is to work and earn some money so this dog and pony show doesn't go broke.

So maybe this doesn't sound very creative, or in keeping with the overall theme of this blog. But, in reality, it truly is. We were sitting at Unicoi since January 1, volunteering as camp hosts, and slowly going broke while we wait for the final word about our applications for working at Grand Canyon National Park. We talked to them last week, and they said even though the job is supposed to start on April 28, if our background investigation is not completed, we can't start working. Yikes!

So, I happened to see an ad on Workamper News Hotline, for someone to work at a campground in Kansas. We had actually been offered a job there earlier this year, but turned it down because we wanted the job at the Grand Canyon. So, after some thought about the matter, I picked up my phone and called the place in Kansas, told them I had seen their Hotline Ad, and said, "you need help, we need a temporary job, if you can use us for 2-3 weeks we will come" and she thought it was a good idea.

While it is not exactly a world shattering idea, it is a creative means of making some money, and thus preventing our personal starvation. So, off we go to Kansas. And, yes, Dorothy, they do have a storm shelter on the property.

Badges? We don't need no stinking badges!

Says who?!

I decided this past week that I want to be more positive about my life. I realized that most of us get no recognition for the wonderful things we do on a daily basis. Simply because you are expected to do something doesn't mean you shouldn't be praised when you do a really good job of it or when you learn a new way of doing it. There are so few big moments in life, why shouldn't we celebrate the small ones?

These small efforts can feel like major accomplishments, and even if no one else recognizes them for the momentous occasions that they are, it doesn't mean I shouldn't. To that end, I decided to start awarding myself badges for all those mini-milestones. If you want to read about my first award ceremony, it's right here.

Aside from the silliness of rewarding myself with badges meant for ten year olds, it actually serves a real purpose. Self reflection can be a great tool for growth and for deciding who you want to be. Reflecting on my week has been a habit for a while now, but most of the time I was focusing on the negative. I would think about all the ways I had messed up that week and resolve to do better next week.

In my decision to be more positive, I realized that this was self defeating. What we focus on is what we become. In focusing on why I hadn't worked out I was reminding myself of what I don't like about exercise instead of what I do like. Thus, the virtual badge ceremony was born.

In awarding myself badges, I think about the things I did well that week. I try to consider if I did it well enough to deserve a badge for it, or did I do it halfway - could I have done a better job if I had only put in a little more effort? If the answer is yes, I did it well, I earn the badge I have chosen to represent that task. (Yea, me!) If the answer is no, I was slacking, then I have to wait til next week to consider that badge again.

The great thing about it is that it's totally up to me. In awarding these badges, no one else's opinion really matters - I am the only one who knows if I cheated. That's where self reflection comes in....

So, in addition to the badges I awarded myself on Friday, I am also going to add:

Pet Care

For walking Ilex and scooping the poop!

and last but not least:

Healthy Relationships

For reaching my huge milestone 5 Monthaversary with Ken.

“Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”

- George Bernard Shaw

I was thinking about this quote today and I agree with it more and more as I get older. The idea of "finding oneself" is so passive. It leaves so much to fate or some imagined and preordained personality. It implies that the person you will become is set in stone and your experiences have nothing at all to do with it. You have nothing to do with it. You could spend your whole life stumbling around and then suddenly happen upon some complete, happy, fulfilled person.

Creating oneself however, is a purposeful act. You are in control. We create ourselves by deciding who we want to be and then working to become that person. We create ourselves through the decisions we make, the things we value and the experiences we have. Creating oneself is work.

Personally, I much prefer being in the drivers seat.

(By the way, this post earns me another badge! The write-all-about-it badge:

Thursday's Topic Of Discussion

Turtle Time in girl scouts was just a way saying doing nothing, resting, taking a break. Jogging can mean a lot a different things. Dictionary.com has this definition:

jog verb, jogged, jog·ging, noun –verb (used with object)

1.	to move or shake with a push or jerk: The horseman jogged the reins lightly.

2.	to cause to function with a jolt for a moment or in a series of disconnected motions: He jogged the motor and started the machine.

3.	to push slightly, as to arouse the attention; nudge: She jogged his elbow when she wanted to be introduced to one of his friends.

4.	to stir or jolt into activity or alertness, as by a hint or reminder: to jog a person's memory.

5.	to cause (a horse) to go at a steady trot.

6.	Printing. to align the edges of (a stack of sheets of paper of the same size) by gently tapping.

–verb (used without object)

7.	to run at a leisurely, slow pace, esp. as an outdoor exercise: He jogs two miles every morning to keep in shape.

8.	to run or ride at a steady trot: They jogged to the stable.

9.	to move with a jolt or jerk: Her briefcase jogged against her leg as she walked.

10.	to go or travel with a jolting pace or motion: The clumsy cart jogged down the bumpy road.

11.	to go in a desultory or humdrum fashion (usually fol. by on or along): He just jogged along, getting by however he could.

–noun

12.	a shake; slight push; nudge.

13.	a steady trot, as of a horse.

14.	an act, instance, or period of jogging: to go for a jog before breakfast.

15.	a jogging pace: He approached us at a jog.

I would like my new blog to be a place that jog's ones creativity, that spurs you to dream, that helps get your ideas flowing. I am looking for a way to be more creative. If you feel that way sometimes, then it is a place for you, too.

I need some help in thinking of a good "theme" for each day. I am satisfied with two of the ones I have come up with, well, actually, three but I'll get to the last one soon enough.

I like the Monday Menu theme, because when you first look at it, it can be about food, what you are planning to eat, what you are planning to cook, what you are planning to buy, whatever. But, again, dictionary.com tells me that a menu can be any list or set of items, activities, etc., from which to choose, such as: What's on the menu this weekend—golf, tennis, swimming? So, a Monday Menu can be just about a plan for the day. A sort of write it down, tell someone out loud what your plan is so that it is more likely to come to pass.

I also really like the What If? Wednesday theme, because it gives me a place to write all those what if moments I think of all the time, just plain silly things, strange things that pop into my head, that maybe someone on the opposite side of the moon may also be thinking.

And last, I like the Sunday theme of what did I accomplish this week, but I would like to figure out another way to say it that would serve to jog my mind to actually think of little things as accomplishments. Like, say, "I ate one less bite at dinner on Monday." or "On Tuesday, I wrote two sentences towards my goal of someday publishing a book." Something that makes me know that I am doing something, no matter how small it may be. Oh, it is a place for big accomplishments, but little things need celebration too.

I am also trying to figure out how to have more than one blogger, so that I can have a colloboration, a joint effort, of several people, because one person's creativity can be jogged by what others do. If I figure it out, would you like to participate?

What If...

What if…

A law was passed that said you could use each word only once?

How would one be able to express oneself after the first utterance?

What If?

What if…

It rained chocolate?

Would you run outside, face pointed up to the sky

Tongue extended, to catch and savor a drop?

Would you take off your shoes and socks

To run and splash in puddles of the dark brown gooey glop?