2011--A year for Catching Up--And no, not like last year

For 2010 I made a very small, modest list of things I wanted to accomplish. The list was unambitious at best and contained only 5 items. I completed two of them.

If I had known then what I know now, I would have known that resolutions were not necessary in the world of huge change into which I was about to throw myself. Before the plunge I had never made my own decisions, paid my own bills and had barely even stood up for myself. I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed, provide for myself, or keep my head up when it all looked like a mistake.

Now, a year later, I have a reserve of memories and successes that spur me on as I continue to face the challenges I have taken on in order to make my life what I want it to be. I won’t bore you with those things in this post.

However, among the more laughable memories of 2010, is my List of “Firsts,” which resembles a list that a college freshman might make. It is not an example of how I have lived my life. It is more an example of how I didn’t live it before.

Some of it is mischief. Okay, most of it is mischief. Some of it is personal. In an effort to demonstrate at least some measure of discretion, I will leave you to your wild imagination on things too personal or too mischievous (or both) to post. Just be assured that these are real entries that I replaced with dashes.

Year of Firsts

First facial piercing

First girl’s night out

First time in a bar

First time to dance

First time to ---

First ---

First Sunday not at church

First ---

First ---

First time to ---

First ---

First move to another US city

First apartment of my own

First time living alone

First permanent non-ministry job

First time to see ‘forbidden movies’ including Ghostbusters and Pee Wee Herman

First non-Christian concert

First cigar

First 5K

First time to ---

First unnatural hair color

First ---

First time in court

And so I began to fill in gaps of things that, in many people’s lives, would have been tried at a much earlier age. This year I hope to fill in even more gaps.

And there are many.

I have gaps in exposure and education, due to my upbringing and the intolerance of ideas that I grew up with. This year, 2011, will be a year of catching up. Not of catching up on experiences, but in filling in the spots in my mind that scream for knowledge and stimulation. Topics that were ignored in my “education” that I hope to cover include art, mythology, influential people of our time, politics, literature, and pop culture such as video games, music, movies and tv. Areas I won’t be covering include Bible Memory and Creationism. Thanks to my 12 years in Christian School and 20 years in the ministry I think I’ve pretty well got those covered.

Oh, and should I also attempt to fill in gaps in history, science and math? Tackling the algebra I didn’t learn in school seems a little overwhelming when viewed alongside all the rest I just signed up for. After all, it wasn't till this year that I knew who Chubaka was. But we’ll see...

Me+Whoever

"Please, Miss Me, may I have your autograph?"

"Excuse me! Can you give me your autograph, please? Make it out to John. Something like...I love you, John. Love, Miss Me."

"Miss. Me, could you sign my T-shirt?" And so she did. She refused no one. Always gracious and giving to the end, she took time for each request, though tired, and smilingly gave of herself."

Everyday he would see her. Mr. Whoever. He saw her coming down the carpet. Mr. Whoever followed her. He watched her. And he wished for her autograph. He wished for it more than anything.

One day Mr. Whoever was noticed by Miss Me. She wasn't annoyed. She even seemed somewhat flattered by his presence. She invited him to come with her. As she signed and waved her gloved hand and fluttered her false lashes, he sat in the shadows and admired the subtle things about her-- the curve of her back, the grace of her nose, and the way the flashbulbs made her hair glisten. Lots of people were fascinated by Miss Me. "Surely," thought Mr. Whoever, "I am no different than these."

And then, when the last light faded, and the last autograph signed, Miss Me turned to Mr. Whoever, and said, "Come with me." How he swelled up on the inside to be her private guest! She never said where she was taking him. She only said "Come," and he came.

She took him to a garden. She showed him an ancient tree in the moonlight. "This," said she, "Is where I come each day." She sat down at its roots and patted the place beside her. As he sat down the musky earth smell rose up and it was everything. She was everything. And she kissed him there. And after she had kissed him, she pulled her hand from his and gave him her autograph. "Me and Whoever," she wrote. She wrote it on the trunk of the tree. No one would know what that meant. But he knew. And so did she.

And so, Miss Me and Whoever met often. Often in shadows. Often at the old tree. And whenever Mr. Whoever was not at the tree, Miss Me would send a message, "Come!" she would say. "Why aren't you here already?" And he would shake his head in disbelief that she could possibly have extended open invitation to him.

She showed him around and he enjoyed learning the garden's secrets. She showed him the fragrant forget-me-nots growing by the gate and giggled. "This is where I first kissed Stevie Eff," she said, and his heart sank a little. But he remembered his name on the tree with hers. And though no one knew what it meant, he knew...and so did she.

She took him deeper inside and he saw the narcissus, it's white bells suspended on dark stems invisible at this late hour. "I touched a boy there near those flowers," she said almost proudly, "but I don't remember his name." No pang hit his chest.

And then she ran to the tree and looked back to make sure he was following.

Little by little, he began learn that with her, no invitation was necessary. At first, it had been hard to even come through the gate without calling her name first. She laughed at that. But little by little he began to come unasked as he supposed she wanted. Tentatively at first. Then with more frequency. She encouraged it. So he would come without asking and he went directly to the tree where she would be. And she would pull him in and embrace him in the darkness near the bark that bore their names. Indeed no one knew what it meant. No one knew how important it was. But he knew...and so did she.

One day, before their shadowy rendezvous, Whoever received a message. "I just wanted you to know," she said, "that I had to give away some of my tree today." His mind flashed to the scenes he knew so well. Miss Me attending to others selflessly. "Someone needed to build a home" he thought, "and she gave him the wood. Or maybe even," he thought painfully as he envisioned it, "maybe someone was cold and needed a fire."

"Did you give the needy person one of the high branches that needed to be trimmed?" he asked with a lump in his throat. Miss Me didn't answer. "Did you give him the back side of the tree that we never sit under because it's mossy?" he asked. He waited. And his heart waited for the reply. "No," she said, "the best part of the tree is the bark. I gave my best, as I always do."

"It's true," he thought. "You always do give your best. But...the bark?? What about...what about..." he stammered, "What about our names?"

"Are you going to be that petty?" she asked. "It's just bark. It's just names. I'll write it for you again."

But it wasn't just bark and it wasn't just names to Whoever. "And your friend?" he asked, "What did your friend need the wood for?"

"He was having a party and wanted kindling for a fire," she said.

"For such a whim as that?" Whoever imagined flames eating words unknown by the burner. His heart was broken. "But that had our names on it. That was special to me," he said.

"Well, it's not anything special. It was just bark and names. I already told you that. It was my tree. I can do with it as I please."

And it was true. The tree belonged to Miss Me. It was hers. She could do what she wanted with it.

And it was true. It was just bark and names. No one else knew what it meant. No one else knew how important it was. But he knew...

Adios Amigos!

So long, facebook. It’s been real. It’s been fun...

Wait--on second thought it hasn’t been that real.

Think about it. On facebook we belong to “groups” of people who never congregate, we run cafes (man i’m gonna miss my sweet little place) and farms (or pot farms) that never materialize. We “chat” without saying anything. Most of us have even mastered the art of “vaguebooking,” where we post a status, that really gives no clue to the reader as to what our status is at all. And perhaps the most obvious indication that facebook isn’t real is found in our “friends.”

My profile says I have 240 friends (which btw is 3 down from a week ago when I posted something “questionable). I always am amazed at that number. “Do I even KNOW 240 people?” And are they really friends?

Facebook needs to come up with new classifications. The word “friend” is outdated and misleading. And then there are friend requests. Who in real life asks someone to be their friend? I haven’t done that since the monkey bars at recess. A friend request isn’t really asking a person to be your friend. And having a lot of “friends” doesn’t mean a lot of people like you. A friend request is essentially a request for permission to view and comment on your page. Nothing more. With that in mind, maybe facebook would do well to recategorize those requests. Imagine...you log on to facebook, and instead of friend requests, you see the following:

You have an “I vaguely remember you Request.” These are mainly to boost the sender’s numbers. They are mostly benign, and usually only a mild irritation as they go about “liking” everything you say.

You have a “People you met while you were out and drunk Request.” You don’t even remember what this person looked like, but they say they danced with you. You add them and they then take it upon themselves to “bar talk” all over your page as if you are long time friends (or more). Uggh. Unfriend.

You have a “Nemesis Request.” This person is your enemy in real life. They stalk your page and only comment to tell you they “don’t like” what you’ve posted. Oh, and their secondary function is to report and or twist what you say and spread it around. These are primarily a thorn in the flesh unless you decide to have fun with them posting things that will irritate them until they self-righteously delete you. They usually won’t do this though because then they don’t have the access that they need to fire back. That is, unless, they have family members who are still your friends. This provides a win-win situation. They can still get access to your business through family members who haven’t unfriended you while “stinging” you with their rejection of you as you watch your numbers fall (Athough I don’t even look anymore to see who unfriends me, so no sting there, suckas!)

You have a “Family Member Request.” These are tricky, because they are the one type of relationship that you can undo on facebook that won’t change the true basis of your relationship in real life. Usually they are harmless, and are a good way of pretending we are all keeping up with family news as we should while not really putting forth any effort to maintain actual contact.

You have an “I’d like to get to know you better Request.” Facebook provides safe distance to watch and get to know someone without actively getting involved until you are sure the person warrants your time and emotional investment. You never really know what these people are thinking, as they are generally quiet and observing. In that way, they don’t stir up a lot of trouble for you as they quietly form their opinion of you based on the cryptic info you share and your other “friends’” comments on your life. Their picture of who you are is likely to be skewed at best.

You have a “People I love and am glad to connect with Request.” This may be the truest use of facebook. When we post our status of the day we often edit it through the eyes of these readers. Although it begs the question, “If I really love them wouldn’t there be a more personal way to do it?” But still, it’s a tool and and good way to renew old relationships we have valued and enhance current ones that we work on outside of facebook as well. These are our actual “friends.”

I tend to forget about the other categories of people that are looking at what I write. But we must remember that those other categories are there. The nemesis will still be watching as always, and as one of mine pointed out earlier today, “If you aren’t clear in your posts, I must assume the worst.” That is reality. There are those who will always apply their own slant to what you say. And I get that. It’s my fault really, for not remembering that I’ve populated my facebook with more than just real friends.

In the beginning I was naive. I joined facebook, like all of you, hoping to see “whatever happened to so and so.” I innocently clicked and sent and accepted friend requests of everyone I knew or had ever known. I’m glad I did. I wouldn’t change anything. Facebook has brought me in contact with some of the most important people in my life. I’m glad to be in contact again with some sweet friends I had lost for a while due to my own negligence. And I am blessed to have found real new friends in people that I initially only added as acquaintances. As far as social media sites go, I’ll give facebook an A+. I jokingly suggest changes--but really facebook is what you make it. What have I made of it? Honestly, I’ve created a monster. And now I’m going to lock it that monster in the closet, close my account and throw away the key. If and when I come back to facebook I will know more about how to optimize the experience. But that will be after the monster dies. Don’t worry. I’ll see some of you again...if we have enough going on that we are willing to sustain our relationship outside of the cut and paste world. But for now...

So long facebook. No, it wasn't real. But it was fun.

He sleeps in peace

What does he dream tonight?

Lashes on cheeks.

So tall.

We prayed for him.

We brought him home that day

When he was born.

And now...

Helpless I watch.

And I can’t catch my breath.

My heart won’t beat.

I pray.

Christmas Traditions in Midland, Texas

Someone recently asked me if I thought I would miss Midland. My response was "probably not." But at Christmas Time I get sentimental. Of course there are the memories of the holiday season here. Sadly, as I reflect on many of the things that have meant Midland to me over the years, I realize that most of them are already gone on ahead of me

Riding the escalator to the second story toy department at Walgreens

I always wished I had asked about the massive neon sign that hung above that escalator when they tore down the old store. HI like to envision it hanging on a brick wall in a loft apartment somewhere and the owner loving it. It had a big arrow on it that lit up and words underneath that said something like "Up for toys, clothing, housewares." The only thing I was really interested in was the toys. There was also a very fascinating coke machine up there that my parents never splurged on. But I did get to see it in action once. It was pretty awe-inspiring how it dropped a paper cup, filled it with ice and dispensed a coca cola. 'Hope you wanted a coca cola...cause that's what you got. But it was soooo cool.

Buying Christmas decorations at Gibsons

Aside from being an-otherwordly place in the off-season (something of a cross between Tractor Supply and a modern day dollar store) Gibsons turned absolutely magical at Christmasttime. Gibson elves added to the already brimming and chaotic inventory of the store by creating winter wonder-scenes, replete with flocked trees (ahh..the LOVE of 'em) and tinsel trees (I so drooled over the marvelous things) and every type of bauble known to mankind: tweeting birdy balls, spinny ornaments, and myriads of other flashy fire-hazardy glittery goop. My best friend and I were once left in the store by her mom after being warned to go to the car several times. She circled the block and came back for us. When Gibsons closed down, the old building remained vacant for a number of years, it's oversized parking lot providing practice ground for driver's ed students. Since that time, it has been a gym and is now a Jumping Party. Of course nowadays, we Midlanders get our tinselly thrills at Miss Cayce's Christmas Store. My kids love to go there for warm cookies and cokes, if not for their fascination with all things shiny.

Downtown Christmas Parade

When you grow up in Midland, there's never much to do, so the Christmas parade is always a big deal. As a very young kid, I watched the parade huddled in blankets. As I got older, as most school-aged Midland students were, I think I was more often in the parade than watching it. From Marching Bands, to throwing candy from a church float. The parade was always a poorly publicized unpretentious, if not homely affair, but something we never wanted to miss. Just las year I found out tht it is always he first weekend in December. Maybe that's why it's not publicized...we're supposed to recognize a pattern. Ahhh, well, I'm gonna try to make it out one last year for my kids.

Seeing Santa at Sears

Before we had a mall in Midland, Sears was the place to shop. It had a special room that only opened for Christmas where all the toys were displayed and Santa Claus sat on his throne. Throughout the rest of the year, as I passed the entry to that room, I often wondered if elves were inside working. And if not, why they didn't keep the toys visible all year long. The old Sears building burned and was later relocated to the new Midland Park Mall.

Downtown window displays

One of my earliest memories was walking the downtown sidewalks with my mom to look at retail stores' seasonal window displays. This was before the area turned into the lifeless downtown of today (Yes, they say they are revitalizing it. Ummmm...okay, if you say so.) I don't know what the stores were, maybe clothiers and jewelers and the like. All I know is that my mom made a specail effort to take me and that she would call my attention to the bells pealing from First United Methodist Church as we strolled along. Midland with its tall buildings was fascinating to me. I had to bend my head all the way backward to see the top of the Wilco building. Inside the First National Bank Building, they had the tallest Christmas tree in the world. I always heard that if you rode the elevator to the top floor, they would give you a free coke. I don't know who told me that, but I was too chicken to ever try it. Today, Pioneer Natural Resources, the company that is transferring us to Dallas, occupies Midland's tallest building.

Uncle Al and Santa Claus at Parklea Baptist Church

A shy child, I was particularly coddled by one gentleman in our church. Al Little. My parents called him Al, and insisted that if I was to call him by his first name that I at least add "Uncle" to it. So "Unkey Al" was my guy and was pretty much the only man I'd go to. Not even when Santa Claus himself made an appearance at church could I be coaxed to sit on his lap. I believe I was four at the time when my parents manhandled me to a squalling sitting position on Santa's knee at the threats of not "getting what I wanted for Christmas if I didn't tell Santa." I avoided eye contact with the old man in red, focusing on a raised furry cuff exposing one hairy arm. I knew that arm. It ruined my believing in Santa from there on, but calmed me down enough in the moment that I could tell Unkey Al what I wanted for Christmas.

Christmas at the Mansion

I remember the Museum of the Southwest as a place we went on field trips and looked at exhibits I didn't understand. However, I was fascinated by the place itself. Rumor had it that there was a murder in the mansion long ago. "There is blood on the carpet upstairs," I was told. Hmmm... so THAT's why they never let us go up there. Today, the old mansion is done up right for the holidays. Local businesses decorate trees to fill the place. The Cats Meow Antique store usually does a fantastic display from their very complete collection of vintage findings. One year, they recreated the living room of A Christmas Story down to the leg lamp. But while I am admiring table settings and gingerbread houses indoors, my boys are pulling and tugging me to the train depot where a little old man in engineer cap shows off the collection of working toy trains with the enthusiasm and precision of a cub scout.

Candy Cane Lane

Candy cane Lane was a neighborhood venture someone dreamed up that became a tradition. Somehow they constructed oversized candy canes out of pvc pipe and dryer vents and striped them with red. Every house on the block had it's sidewalk flanked in a pair of the red and white sweets. Legend goes that if you sell your house there, you must leave the canes and the new buyer must agree to put them out each year. Now only a few avid traditionalists remain. But if you drive the street in daylight, you will notice a concrete pad on each side of the pathway, evidence of what once was.

Scrooge's House

I don't remember what street this was in Midland, but it was a highly decorated one. Once again, I think all the neighbors got together and planned to make it the brightest spot in town. There was only one problem: A large vacant, almost spooky looking house at the turning point in the cul-de-sac. There was nothing they could do about the eyesore but put out a large sign in front that read "Scrooge's House." The house remained vacant for some time and the seasonal solution continued to fit. Finally when the house was bought and the new owners moved in, they continued the tradition. How nice to have your neighbors tell you, "We will be spending tons of money on needless decorations but don't you worry about decorating at all. Just sit tight and put out this sign." Maybe I'll try that sometime.

Pull-through Santa Scene

Everyone who has lived here very long knows about a certain house in old Midland with a circle driveway and a big picture window in the front room. At Chrismas every year, a life-size Santa appeared engaged in yet another exciting activity. Santa the skier, Santa stuck in the chimney, Santa watching the game on t.v. The sign in the drive way said "pull through for a closer look." Every year cars full of families lined up to pull through and see what Santa was up to. This remained a family tradition from the time I was a young girl until adulthood. Then suddenly it stopped. We lamented that the new owners didn't keep up the tradition that so many had enjoyed throughout the years. And we continued to drive by that pace, as other Midlanders did, and remembered. Last year, we were surprised to see Santa was back, after all this time. This time, Santa stood before an easel among suitcases and trunks. Around the room were numerous completed works of art. The sign in the window read something like this: "For my Dad. Many people never knew that he was an avid traveller and an artist."

Video Game Room in the Future for Leach Family?

For those of you who know me (which I would assume is all one of you), you’re probably gonna check this blog a couple of times to make sure this is really me writing. Yes, it’s me...no one has captured my account. But lemme just ask you one thing...wouldn’t it be cool to have a room just for video games in my new house?

I know, I generally don’t like the idea of video games. As a mom, I feel that they can be distracting at best, eating away the minds of youngsters and teaching bad habits--you know, like killing people. As a sister, (can I say this?) I have seen excessive video gaming play some serious parts in wrecking some marriages of those girls I love the most. As a family, we have shied away from purchasing anything trendy in this area. I guess we thought that if the games they play aren't the thing right now, that they won't spend as much time on them, and will concentrate on more boyish activities like playing outside. You know, things that require activity and sweat.

But it's been a bit of a downward spiral We bought a vintage atari once for our kids and they thought they were uptown! Next, someone gave them a Nintendo 63, I think it was. (See, I’m so dumb about them, I don’t even know what it was for sure.) There was like one game we allowed them to play on it. The kids, in an attempt to connect with society and ‘be like other kids’ have bought themselves what poor imitations they could afford--various plug-in controller/video games of such things as Fantastic Four and Thomas the Tank Engine. Oh, yeah and there was a golf game that someone gave them. They bought some old Playstation or something at a garage sale recently and now they fascinate their friends with games no one knew existed on a playstation nobody else has. Last year, we finally broke down and bought them a Wii. And it was even a new one. I justified this venture in to current trends by noting that these games were "athletic." Therefor, if I catch them sitting down playing tennis, the game is over. Overkill, I know. But I just have had a little bit of an aversion to video games.

Until today.

Beatles Rock Band. That’s all I’m gonna say.

I know. Don’t hit me. I know you already knew all about it...but well, I had just ignored that piece of American culture. But I played “Hard Day’s Night” on the drums tonight at Best Buy. And now I think we ought to have a whole room devoted to such endeavors as “I Wanna Hold Your Hand." Don't you agree?

Okay, wait... I can justify this. We have been thinking about homeschooling right? And musical instruction is important right? So I said to my kids, “What do ya’ll think if we just do our homeschooling on the Wii?” They were in full agreement, so there you go. Of course my husband was a little skeptical that we could produce an academically balanced curriculum just of Wii material. Okay...if we have to we will add Xbox.

But seriously, the kids were telling me all sorts of neat stuff. Like, did you know they have a Gardening Mama game? Or a Zookeeper game? Sure and there are things to learn Geography and Math and everything you need to know. So I’m all for it. Whattayathink?

So I was looking online for design ideas. Why are there no video game room design ideas? (This question is my lazy way of prompting others to look for them for me, since googling is almost as hard as scrolling through blog entries.) I hope it works. I would love to know what you think would be important in such a room. What games, What furniture? What decor? Fridge? Preferred flooring? Surround sound? Stations for different games at different times by different people and oh! I'm serious here, people. I want feedback. Do I need a poll? I can add one. As long as it has Rock Band 2 on it somewhere.

And let me reiterate, just so you don't think I'm doing this for selfish reasons--the kids said the whole thing sounds good to them if I promise not to hog it. Heck, we’ll get two of ‘em if we need to. Wouldn't want to deprive the kids.

Icky Sicky Ick

I feel like Im camping out in the house. And I’m sick.

Being sick sucks. But you know what? The flavor and texture of Zicam has greatly improved! So there’s a nice little surprise. Thank you Zicam...I almost didn’t buy you because of our previous experience together. Other than, that, there have been no pleasant surprises to feeling like crud.

For instance, in the doc’s office, there was this sign that said “limit 2 visitors per patient.” I didn’t have any. No one came to see me while I was there. So posting that there was kind of like rubbing it in my face. Yep I was alone. For quite a while. I thought it might be kind of a fun place when I saw that the paper covering the exam table was Cat in the Hat. But as I sat down right on top of Thing 1 and Thing 2, I noticed there really wasn’t anything special about it. Thing 1 and Thing 2 were just there in a feeble attempt to comfort me after pointing out that I have no friends.

I did get a nice hip shot though. I remember how I used to tighten up and cry when I was little. Now I try to take it like a big girl. I still hate them. Not because I don’t like needles...I’m fine with giving blood or IV’s. I just hate the burn of antibiotic. So in addition to the shot I am taking two other antibiotics which they told me they would call in for me.

As I walked into Walgreens I realized that there is no time that I feel uglier than when I am sick. I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I don’t bother to fix my hair or put on makeup. I guess it’s kind of like, if I’m going to feel bad, the rest of the world is going to have to suffer right along by seeing me this way. Last night I went out to my Mom’s and my sis kind of studied my face for a second. “You look different,” she says, as if she’s not sure if it was intentional or not. “It’s cause I don’t feel good. Plus with all the remodeling all my mirrors are covered up.” “Oh,” she says. “Well, don’t go look in one of ours.” I guess she would have been really grossed out if I had shown her the fur on my tongue.

So now I'm waiting for my husband to bring me lunch. And if he's really good, he'll bring me a prize. Because he knows the house rules: You get a shot--you get a prize. I can't wait!