I have two stories today…actually three that blend into four.

1- Saturday night I was in a particularly ornery mood and bless JJ’s heart he convinced me that riding bikes to the American Legion’s “Blues on the Bay” concert would be an okay thing to do. The cover was $25, but he said he could sneak us in. He loves being local and showing me the ropes. Skeptical that we could get in for free and that I would be able to leave my sour disposition at the door, it was a whiney ride. Once I started moving and breathing in the ocean air, the black cloud over my head dissipated along with the blackness that shelled my cold heart (he he). We did, in fact, get in for free. Since I didn’t have ID on me, my no-charge wrist band was light blue with dolphins jumping across it. (People’s reactions are funny when you tell them that you’re not drinking anyway.) The band was hopping and so were the attendees. The dance floor was packed. It seriously doesn’t take much to turn my frowns upside down. At first we sat to listen and this older gentleman in flip-flops, shorts, a WT tank top, trucker hat, white goatee—clearly toasted—pointed at me and motioned me to come to him. Yeah Right. I pointed at JJ with a look of disbelief on my face and then to the handful of single ladies sitting around us. He picked one who danced oh so very close to him. I am not endorsing alcohol consumption—it’s just really fun to be on a dance floor with people who are making fools of themselves and don’t give a hoot if you make a fool of yourself too. I love it. And I love that JJ will make a fool of himself with me. After the AL, we rode down to the Wedge. What a gorgeous night! Midnight blue skies and a nearly full moon lighting up a black ocean. See poem to the right.

2- Sunday morning, I was in the garage for something and I heard this whimpering. Weird. I continued working on my project and the whimpering continued, “mom…help me… mom… I can’t…” The house behind ours, separated only by a one-car wide alley, is a vacation rental and every week hosts different occupants. It’s a 4-bedroom, so it usually sees extended families. Well, my curiosity mixed with innate mothering instincts drove me to check into it. I walked over to the 6 foot, brown wooden plank fence and asked the whimpering voice if he was okay. “yes, I’m okay…but I can’t get…” I tried to peer in, but couldn’t see much. “do you need help?” I asked. “Yes, I need help.” “But you’re okay?” “yes, I’m okay.” I was trying to assess the seriousness of the situation. Did I need to intervene? Were they restraining their kid in a high chair with duct tape like I had seen a couple weeks ago on a video at school about the foster care system? Finally I asked, “Are you stuck?” and he said yes. So I tried to open the gate and he guided me to the “right gate” to open and there he was, this cute, blonde headed, probably 4-year-old boy with his arm trapped under the lid of a fiberglass storage bin. I lifted the lid and could barely heave it up enough for him to get out. How in the world did he open it enough to get stuck? Then I had to open it long enough for him to pull out one of the toys inside. I asked him if he was okay and then requested that he not try to get anymore toys without a grown up and he ran inside. I walked out of the gate and closed it and thought to myself, “His mom has no idea. I am a hero.” And then I lost all blessings due to my pride.

3- I’ll summarize this one. Today I finally applied for a California driver’s license. On my way to the DMV, this big, red, WT truck pulled out in front of me so that I had to slam on my breaks. I honked my horn and swerved around him. As I passed him, he let out a string of expletives at the top of his lungs, including calling me a really bad name and said that he could #$*&#@* run me over—which is true. He could have run me over. That’s the part I could make out, cause I rolled up my windows as fast as they would go. Argh. Someday, those kind of things will not affect me and I will not react in an unsafe manner. All I could think to do was say a prayer of gratitude that I do not have people like that in my life and run across them infrequently.

4- Which reminds me of story #4: A couple weeks ago, another guy yelled at me for “talking on my cell phone while driving” and I wasn’t even talking on my phone!! Ridiculous. He told me that he had been hit by a lady talking on her phone to which I said, “I’m sorry, but it wasn’t me.” I also said, “Are you kidding me?” and I wanted to say, “Your kids (he was in the passenger seat and had three teenage girls in the back) must be so embarrassed by you.” But, again—all I can do is say a big “THANK YOU” to the positive and uplifting people in my life.

s-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n

The name Bethany, literally translated as house of figs, is shared by a multitude of places and people. Most commonly refers to the village of Bethany near Jerusalem; which, according to the New Testament, was the site of the resurrection of Lazarus.

Bethany is also a female given name. Its meaning is usually given as "house of blessings".

BIBLE DICTIONARY | Bethany | House of dates | Village two miles from Jerusalem, on the southeast slope of Olivet; the home of Lazarus and of Simon; the village in which our Lord stayed during Holy Week.

Also known as Bethany : my youngest sister.

Crazy as in Cool.

Athletic. Way more than me.

Stylish beyond compare.

Funny as all get out. Whatever than means. Just plain funny.

Sweetest. Always.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

i love you forever.

Motivation for Change

I've been thinking a lot about change lately. There are several kinds of change really, two of which are [1] the change that is inevitable and out of our conscious control and [2] the changes that we create. But, how do we get to the type that we consciously create. Was it Henley who said, "I am the master of my fate...the captain of my soul" ?

My current read, "Motivational Interviewing," discusses change in regards to how counselors, therapists, physicians encourage positive behavior changes. I find the authors' ideas interestingly true, specifically the idea that I cannot make someone change. In fact, the more I argue for the change, the more the other person will argue to keep the status quo. So, what do I do to encourage my clients to make positive change? Pretty much nothing. Or rather, it looks like nothing. That's the trick that will make me the big bucks down the road. I listen, ask questions, restate, lead, and most importantly I do not judge. It's like a dance. However, I feel like Hok from this last season of "So You Think You Can Dance" doing the Viennese Waltz. So clumsy but trying so hard to get it right!

And so for now I borrow others' theories of change, but someday I will synthesize all of my acquired knowledge into my theory of change. But, it won't really be mine...

What's the Consensus?

The night we all had been waiting and counting down for has come and gone, though the remains still find themselves on my DVR. So. Which is it? Cast your vote to the right,
to the right,--> all your votes to the box at the right...

I'm so lame.

hello fall!

This is kind of how I feel right now. I have three book cases full of books in my tiny, ity-bity room. And come August 20th, I'll probably have half-a-dozen more to add. I love books, don't get me wrong, I just need my own library or den or study or maybe all three in a big house that is already paid off!

p.s. in a perfect world, we could all afford to live the j.crew lifestyle and wear their clothing.