Where is your passion?

That is, hands down the single most loaded question on the planet for me.  If you know me.  Really know me -  as in inner posse from way the hell back  - you know what that question means and if you are just from recent you know what that question means so all ya'll think you know but it means everything and nothing.  Passion is a topic that has been debated for centuries - nay millenia!  When anyone talks about the "Passion of Christ" it refers to His last days - His suffering and ultimate physical death but also His defeat of all things carnal.  It was what He came here to do.  It was his singular purpose on this earth.  It was His Passion.

Passion is life -  it is art -  it is vision  -  it is what we do because we have to or die - passion is what kills,  - creates a new life and makes us do things we would not ordinarily do.  It makes old men spit because they have to argue their deepest thoughts out loud and mean it, and it's what makes young Marines die for their beliefs. 

What feels like a hundred centuries ago to me but was really only about 10 years ago - my then husband preached for the first and only time in church.  His sermon was titled "where is your passion?"  He was feeling very sick but his thoughts were so well orchestrated and his sermon was amazing.  I'm not being biased (or so I think) but I could have listened to that tape forever.  It was his life at that time out loud.  The thoughts of an incredibly complicated conflicted man - who had seen the face of God and still was human on the direst of levels.  I was busy nursing a baby. His child.  Busy with what was my passion - but not too busy to hear the desperation in his voice.   I knew he was losing it.  Losing his passion. Losing what I knew of him.  And then he was silent.  Something had taken a fire hose to his passion and he was gone. 

BUT like the PHOENIX - I rose from the ashes that was my life and reinvented myself.  I will not be silenced because of who or what I am or believe.  I am me - out loud - full frontal and in living color. 
I threw myself into my passion - creating with my hands - knitting, sewing - making babies. Believing like Midas that what I TOUCHED  would flourish - succeed  - turn to gold. 

I have learned so much on my 41 spins on this globe that has made me who I am and who I am not.  Much like the gardener pruning away at a bush that has randomly sprouted shoots that just don't fit the shape he is creating - parts of me have had to get cut away to get to the heart of who I am.  I have begun the metamorphosis into who I choose to be - and as I face 42 (the meaning of life - thanks DA!) I've uncovered that it's passion.  Life is passion - it's what moves you to really feel.  To not just show up everyday but to actively participate in what it is you are doing.  To be in the moment with everything you have.  To want to be doing what it is you are doing even if it's some trivial thing.  If you are not there - I challenge you to find it.  Find your passion - reinvent yourself.  But remember - life is messy.  Bring a towel. 

My Southern Side

"I heard that in every life a little rain must fall - if there's any truth to this saying - Lord let it be a Southern Rain. . . . " Cowboy Junkies

I am a transplant to this par-tic-ular Land of the Magnolia.  Consequently, I  will never ever truly be 100% Southern. This is good and bad in myriad ways.  I cannot comprehend  - on any level  - the aberration known as "little girl beauty pageants" (seriously? - WTF!!! - IMHO they are nothing more than parades for future whores!) nor can I stomach some of the funky pig parts which seem to appear in the strangest of places (gas station/beauty parlor?) - all deep fried, pickled or briny!  BUT I sincerely adore most of the people I've met and revel in their sincerity and unique take on life.  The South does things so differently than the North would.  This challenges me - and I love that. There are so many amazing wonders both edible and visual to be had -  BUT like all complex things in this life there is aways a dark side.

I'm a white girl and speak just enough Spanish to know I should be offended when called a white bitch in the Hispanic market where I shop. My town is so very racially mixed that I am truly the minority.  The South here is a hard, conflicted, very bipolar South. It's filled with bigots, haters, bitches, gypsys', tramps and thieves. But also a shit-ton of great people. Maybe this is true everywhere in America.  Perhaps.

I love Virginia for so many personal reasons not the least of which because this is where my family has landed.  But because this place - this State is way more than that - it is a "state of mind" - an Historical Juggernaut - that has such presence it's almost otherworldly. The Civil War is still very very real in many people's minds. It actually is a point of conversation that can still get quite heated.  People here have not forgotten for one minute what side won and what side should have.  Living here amongst all of the history is very surreal and humbling.  But don't get me wrong.  As much as I love it there are some down sides. People here cannot fucking drive to save their lives. To say they are bad drivers is like saying Andrew Zimmern likes to eat assholes. REALLY? who freaking teaches drivers ed here? My Drivers Ed teacher Mr. Paulson would die if he wasn't dead already .  As a Midwestern girl I can drive stick shift and actually would prefer it to automatic transmission; can sail through a snow storm with my car still on the road and GO at green lights and stop only at red ones!  I drive 5 over the speed limit in town and more on the freeway.  I signal when I am turning and then make sure it gets turned off.  Anyway enough.

The South has had this strange allure for me from the very first time I saw a magnolia in full bloom. It was a transplanted variety to the north - but it was gorgeous and I was 9.  I instantly knew there was a world outside of the complete hibernation that is Wisconsin. I felt there had to be more than just the  5 months we knew as warmth and the rest of the year relegated to construction and snow. My quest for all things sunny and hot and NOT the north began right then. I began to loathe the cold. No actually what started as loathe ended at full on I FUCKING HATE BEING COLD!!!!!!!!!!!!! It took a few years to ramp into that particular sentiment - but there it is. I remember one particular winter - no kidding - 80 below zero with the wind chill factor. Driving to work - at night - having to plug in my car so that my engine would not freeze. Those of you truly southern will have no idea what I am talking about - (google "block heater") yes I own one. I hate winter. Sooooooooooo I love Virginia. But straight up - I'm not far enough south. This state is gorgeous - yes yes yes - it is for lovers - but for all the talk - it's still cold. A lot.

As much as there are differences there are Burger Kings and Applebees and if I wanted to just live and pretend I was back up north I so so so could. But that is absolutely not who I am and I PERSONALLY live and bloom where I am planted so I live - truly LIVE Auntie Mame style - and embrace what I live in - so this is a nirvana of sorts for me. Food.  Period.  Is different here.  Fresh produce in cheap places. Korean markets - Live seafood for crazy prices - yes please. Why is it always about food for me? well, we need it to live. And more than exist. LIVE! I always come back to this - Food is fuel at it's most basic but it's life at it's most glorious. We have to eat. WE HAVE TO EAT!!!!!! We have to feed ourselves and our children. If you are a feeder you get this - man or woman - you get it. I love it here for the wider - nay, epic expanse of possibilities open to me. Lemon grass. check. Cassava. yeah. Ginger. duh? good Garlic - ya think? OMG yes please! So much to pick from if brave enough to tough it out.  I guess that's different here.  You gotta want it and search it out - but it's really not that hard once you take the first dangerous step out of your comfort zone.

I have my sights set on farther south some day but for now Virginia is sweet home enough that I am a happy Yankee Rose!!!

So sorry your Mother in Law is dead - here's $30

OMG - I so do not mean disrespect to my family in anyway but it's so funny that I just have to point out the difference between the midwest and any place else on the planet.  Or maybe it's just that the south does it their own par- tic- ular way (I'm southern now - not by birth but by choice - makes me a bit of a bastard I think) but hey - your MIL died - she was worth more than Rockefeller - here's a $20 to take the edge off.  I love my sweet family.  You can't ship a green bean casserole but by God $20 travels just fine.  I don't quite get it but yet - I do.  It's the "I can't help she died - but here's something I can do!" I love it so much it makes me want to hug them all so sweetly - and I guess that was the point.  But fact of the matter is that it was not MY personal mom who died so I am just a bystander in this particular parade.  I am trying to take this whole experience with a huge grain of salt to be as unbiased as possible - but really - it is what it is and life and death hit us all at different points and places.  I find it sweet and humbling.  Thank you all.

"Hey how's it going?"

where's my f'n money?  Okay so when family starts calling a week after the body is actually cold - family you don't ever talk to.  Like, ever.  And they are asking, "so how's it going?" it's very much code for, "hey asshole when do I get my cut of the old lady we kicked to the curb a while back . . . . "  Yeah not cool - so well - in death as in life there are loopholes and details.  In life in you have to deal with them  - BUT in death some other stupid bastard has to.  In comes Roger.  Yeah it's messy.

flowers

The flowers started coming Saturday 2pm.  They were so pretty and smelled amazing - a very stark contrast to the smells that had normally filled the front of our home.  Roger's nose had blocked the urine smell that filled the downstairs I didn't have that particular gifting so I smelled it and wanted to cry.  I could do nothing more than ask that she try to make efforts to wear certain garments.  It was strained at best - horrific at worst and all I wanted to do was cry and run.  But this was my house.  No matter who helped it's purchase - I should feel at home in my own house and I did not.  I was trapped on the second story and really didn't want to make my way down - I knew I was behaving badly - I should want to spend time with her - but she had burnt bridges that I could not find energy to rebuild. 

She really was an amazing person.  I wish I had known her as an aunt - friend - church goer - anything other than family.  She had such an amazing life - was in Heroshima with her husband - Chief of Surgery - Oscar Posey Howard - right after the bomb dropped to help.  She was there - not really to do anything medical just the wife of someone helpful - but she was there.  It counted.  I can't imagine that life but well it was her's to live and live it she did.  I am not going to stand here in judgment but (don't you love the - I won't say but Jesus - here I am saying) she was an observer that was so the ugly american.  When I heard the stories it was littered with "and those "Japs" did this . . . " yeah.  I need a minute. 

She was demanding at best and a complete bitch at her worst and now that she's gone I miss the hell out of her.  Don't get me wrong.  My house is for the first time in a year - my house.  I can breathe.  It's mine.  But I do actually factually miss her.  We went to the bookstore and I unknowingly bought a book for her.  She doesn't need it today.  Nor does she need neosporin that I felt I was stealing today for my finger.  Mary is dead.  Mom is gone. She doesn't need any damn thing from me.  It's Mother's Day.  And I am happy to have my house back, but - really, as irratating as she was - I miss her.  Pass the peanut butter and jelly - and there's a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her. 

Driving Mrs. Mary or Why I sucked caring for my MIL

FUCK! It was the first time I had ever heard my father utter those words and really? hey he worked in a factory.  It took a special man to never ever say bad language around his children that was bantered about like skittles during the day - but it was that sole word that stopped me dead in my tracks and to this day I really am glad I can still have sex.  I saw what he saw.  It was the girl parts of a Jesus only knows how old woman exposed to the world.  My world - his world.  It was not pretty and only one word summed it up.  Fuck.  THAT is why I am where I am.  Read on.  It gets better. 

work and other distractions

wow. it has been a week or two. and yet cooking and kids and hubby are really the things that still matter the most to me.  I have learned so much about myself in the years since the divorce from T. and most of it has been good but some has taken me some time to process.  Roger and I fight. discuss. argue.  T. and I never did that because I felt I was not allowed to.  I was far too annie fisher to do that.  I wasn't given a voice and frankly it was my bad for not freakin taking it.  I lost my husband because I didn't have a voice.  I have a new one now - both husband and voice. and I love them both dearly. Roger listens when I speak. Roger is not my slave - he is a man and stands up when standing up is what he needs to do. He puts me in my place when I need to be put. But he also holds my hand when it needs holding and kisses me in Ikea because he wants to kiss his wife.

Men and Women are so very very different and yet so very similar. Lon Solomon (yeah that's my pastor's name) reminded me in heaven we will just all be the same.  No sex. (not so happy there :D ) no marriage no nothing like that. I just trust that God has it figured out. and really that is cool.

Today is today and frankly life has upped the weird factor. I will soon be doing the job of 7 people. at one 6th the pay.  I am still stoked and want to rock this  - no matter who or what wants to jack me up because of who I am.  But yet it's not going to be an easy ride.  or happy happy joy joy. neither ren nor stimpy . BUT I am still me - I still smile through the tears and I will soldier on.  My kids, hubby and cooking keep me standing upright and my GOD who thankyouverymuch is LORD love me.  If you are not on my team - keep it to yourself and then silently just go the hell away because I don't need it.  ever. thanks.