Carrie Link

2009-12-10T06:41:00.000-08:00

COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT

I'm telling you people, the feng shui stuff really works. I mostly worked on my prosperity and helpful people areas of my house (which, of course, are opposite each other and directly affect one another). It took me all of five minutes. Maybe ten, including digging out the old Monopoly game and sorting through the pieces until I found Park Place.

Tuesday I got a call from the behavioral/developmental pediatrician's office we've been frequenting for eleven years. I assumed (never do that) that they were calling to confirm Wednesday's appointment. No. It went a little like this:

"Hi, Carrie, this is Robin. You called a few weeks ago because your insurance had denied a claim and you wanted us to re-code and re-bill? Well, I did, and we've been reimbursed, so you have a credit now."

"Oh! That's great!"

"Yes, well, actually I looked into several of your old bills and realized for quite awhile now you've been being incorrectly billed. You have a $492 credit."

Could nearly $500 come at a better time? No. It could not.

I'm not allowing myself to even go to the place that bemoans the fact that this problem goes back a very long way and nobody has caught it until now, I'm just super thankful for the most helpful of people, Robin.

I needed the chimney cleaned and was getting the run around from one company. Finally I sat down with Mary, calmed myself and she said, "Start all over." So I went back to Googling and called the first place that came up with the new search information. The woman that answered the phone? Carrie. Spelled the right way, too. Carrie was super helpful and my chimney was arranged to be cleaned the very next day with zero run around.

Next I needed to get a referral for Woohoo from her high school counselor. Her name? Kerri (spelled the wrong way, but still very cool, don't you think?). She was exceedingly helpful and happy to be so.

THEN I had to do some banking and was vibing which branch, what time to go, which person to form a line behind, and guess where I ended up. Go ahead, guess. Behind Carrie's line. She didn't have a name tag, but when I gave her my bank card she said, "Oh! Your name is Carrie, spelled the right way, you'll get the Carrie-to-Carrie service today!"

All within 24-hours.

C'mon.

Get the book.

* Photo from www.punejunction.com

2009-12-09T07:05:00.000-08:00

Shhhh...

Took the kids to see Santa yesterday at the mall. A family tradition that won't die just because they are now fifteen and thirteen. Rojo is as excited this year for Santa as he was... last year.

We told Woohoo she didn't have to actually go tell Santa what she wants this year, she could skip it, just watch as Rojo sat on Santa's lap and told him what he wanted. But being the super kid that she is she said, "No, it means a lot to Rojo. I'll do it." And so it did, and so she did.

Rojo plunked himself right down on the armrest of Santa's generous chair, and Woohoo plopped down on the opposite armrest. I wildly took pictures and STM held our coats.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Santa asked Rojo.

"I... I.... What do I want, Mom? Oh, um, ah, I want a big Cookie Monster," Rojo said with hesitation, even though he's been telling me for three straight months he was going to ask Santa for a big Cookie Monster. Buckled under pressure.

And yes, Rojo will be getting a three foot Cookie Monster for Christmas - just like the one in the naturopath's office that started this whole thing (don't even ask how much this costs and how hard it was to find). I said to STM, not believing my own words as they flew from my mouth, "Are we actually going to spend $_______ getting a three-foot Cookie Monster for our 13-year-old?"

Then we both said in perfect unison, "Yes."

Because he wants it. He really, really wants it.

And it's Christmas.

And he asked Santa.

And he's expecting it.

And there are worse things for thirteen-year-old boys to want.

And we love him.

* Photo from www.manhattanmom.com

2009-12-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

Let us accept the invitation, ever-open, from the Stillness, taste its exquisite sweetness, and heed its silent instruction.

Paul Brunton

Perspectives

Such a hard time of year to find stillness, isn't it? I am fighting the chicken-with-my-head-cut-off urges with every shallow breath I take.

My 2,000 item To Do list is going to have to wait. Wait until I've taken at least a few minutes to heed the silent instruction of Stillness.

* Photo from www.yourinnerfreedom.com

2009-12-07T06:07:00.000-08:00

A SPLIT PATH

Met my best friend from high school for coffee Saturday. Friends for 32 years now. She has actively stabilized my life more than once and I am forever in her debt.

She is one of the few people I can say, gladly, hasn't changed a bit. She is the same rock solid, clear thinking, ego-less person she was when she was fourteen.

She has a daughter a year older than Woohoo - in fact, I was visiting her sixteen years ago when she went into labor a week early, and stood outside her hospital doorway as she quietly gave birth without one drop of medication. That's who she is.

Our second children were born within three months of each other, and for a few years we made the effort to get our four kids together as often as possible, despite the two hours that separate our homes.

But then it just got harder. Harder with the kids' schedules. Harder with busy lives and careers. And frankly? Harder with Rojo.

I've been thinking a lot about how we were friends that saw each other daily, then roommates in college, then roommates out of college, at each other's weddings and at the births of our children, and now it could be 6-8 months between phone calls. More than the busyness, more than the geographical distance, more than anything, its that widening gap thing again.

When we gave birth to our second children our lives were parallel. Thirteen years later we're not fooling anyone. We're on two very different paths as mothers, as women, as travelers.

It was really good to see her again on Saturday. It was really good to see all the ways I still need her to ground me. It was really good to see that although we no longer travel the same road, we are still on this same journey. Together.

2009-12-06T08:11:00.000-08:00

OMHOG, you have to watch this video. Get out the tissues.

2009-12-04T07:37:00.000-08:00

A must for all those Quan Yin/Tara/Mary lovers on your holiday list! She Carries Me.

2009-12-03T16:46:00.001-08:00

I'm back, did you miss me? I missed you too, perhaps more than is healthy.

STM and I took a 48-hour break from life to celebrate our nothing-but-bliss eighteen year marriage (plus six years of dating, but who's counting).

We didn't go far, we didn't spend a lot of money, we didn't do a lot of anything. But do you know what we DID do?

We laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

love.

Photo from thisward.com

2009-12-01T06:53:00.000-08:00

I WOULDN'T LIE TO YOU

Was hurrying through New Seasons right before Thanksgiving and the clerk asked if I'd like to donate the cost of one Thanksgiving dinner for a homeless person. I said yes. Total cost? $1.88.

Day after Thanksgiving we were all in the car and drove up next to a homeless person on a corner with a cardboard sign. "I am really homeless. I wouldn't lie to you," the sign said. We rolled down our window and the dear soul hobbled over and averting our eyes, gratefully accepted our small donation. Then he turned, looked right at me (in the passenger seat) and said, "And thank you for giving me such a nice Thanksgiving dinner yesterday."

* Photo from www.unl.edu/scarlet

2009-11-30T06:09:00.000-08:00

COPING

I was deeply saddened to learn that one of my fellow Hopeful Parents writers, The Accidental Caregiver, died suddenly the day before Thanksgiving.

When I read what he wrote just three days before he died, I was even more moved. It's almost like he knew he was going to die, and he was getting things right for his wife after he was gone and could no longer advocate for her.

I was asked to write a piece on coping - part of a Warrior Parents series a columnist is doing. Been brainstorming all weekend as to how I do actually cope, and the news of The Accidental Caregiver's death has made that question all the more timely. I don't know of any of the details of his death, only that he had a heart attack, but I do know this: the stress of being the full-time caregiver of a special needs child, did not help.

I originally named my blog Fully Caffeinated because that was my quip when asked, "How do you do it?" I am no longer fully caffeinated and I no longer quip. I'm not sure I really am "doing it."

I'm tired. I'm so tired that no amount of sleep touches the tired. I'm the mother-of-a-two-year-old tired. I'm the tired old people are. I'm tired.

And blessed. So deeply blessed. My boy is a joy. He is happy. He smiles big and often with deep dimples and twinkles in both eyes. My boy has language. My boy does not smear his poop on walls. My boy does not have pain. My boy does not have anxiety that cripples him. My boy is friendly and has friends. My boy loves to go to school and is adored and respected every minute he is within those sacred walls. My boy is part of a community. My boy is part of a family. My boy will be fine.

I took my boy for ice cream Saturday. He grinned at me between spoonfuls and I said, "God, you're cute."

He put his face right up to me and said, "Looks like you're talking to God when you say I'm cute."

And he's right.

And that's how I cope.

* Photo from www.photobucket.com

2009-11-29T09:42:00.000-08:00

IN UNDER THE WIRE

It's not too late to give thanks, right? Never!

Inspired by Courtney Sheinmel's list, here is mine, stream-of-consciousness style!

I AM THANKFUL FOR THIS AND SO MUCH MORE

Happy children. Funny husband. Healthy mother. In-laws that are low maintenance. Darling nephew. Cousins. BFFs. My kids' teachers. Words. Prayers. Candles. Kris Delmhorst. All my many wonderful friends. Meg Hutchinson. Travel. Dar Williams. My kids' schools. Retreats in Sisters. Tracy Grammer. Mountains. Rosie Thomas. Seasons. Edie Carey. Books. Rose Cousins. Writing. Holy friends. Lucy Kaplansky. My neighborhood. Heather Masse. Desk top fountains. Laptop computers. Mary. Perfect coffee. Sleep. Dreams. Journals. Altars. Walking. Health. Laughter. Ticonderoga pencils. Love. Poets. Mystics. Pajamas. Bathrobes. Perfect mugs. Advil. e-mail. The Internet. Helpful people. Good doctors. My reliable 12-year-old car. Trader Joe's. Safeway friends. Forgiveness. Forgetfulness. Peace. Healing.

* Photo from www.christiandevotions.us

2009-11-27T08:02:00.000-08:00

HE ASKED FOR CHARITY

God came to my house and asked for charity.

And I fell on my knees and

cried, "Beloved,

what may I

give?

"Just love, He said.

"Just love."

St. Francis of Assisi from the book, Love Poems from God, by Daniel Ladinsky

* Photo from www.shafe.co.uk

2009-11-25T06:20:00.000-08:00

THANKFUL

Thankful
Noisy
Healthy
Joyful
Complicated
Appreciative
Thoughtful
Expensive
Grateful
Generous
Funny
Silly
Expressive
Tender
Challenged
Evolving
Insightful
Labeled
Perfect
Children
Thankful

*Photo from www.makeandtakes.com

2009-11-24T05:26:00.000-08:00

THE CLICK

A big weekend for dreaming around here. First I had one I'm still trying to figure out: I held a neighbor girl, now a fourth grader but a toddler in my dream, over Kathleen's washing machine as she peed all over Kathleen's clean clothes. When Kathleen came home and discovered what I had done she said, "Now I can't hear the angels talking." Anyone want to interpret THAT one?

Next night I was standing in a pitch black kitchen with an old friend. I was preparing to leave and trying to gather up all my things. She pulled out a bunch of plastic bowls and said, "These are yours." (Again, it's pitch black.) I opened the refrigerator behind me to shine the light on the situation and when I saw the bowls she was trying to pass off on me, I said, "That's not my stuff."

Uh huh. A. Little. Like. That.

Can't talk now - gotta go open refrigerators, light candles, flick on all the lights and re-examine what's actually mine.

And what's not.

*Photo from totomel.files.wordpress.com

2009-11-23T05:46:00.000-08:00

AN ONLINE CIRCLE

As those of you who visit here regularly know, Deb Shucka and I are offering a writing workshop in Portland starting in January. We are amazed and excited that so many of you have asked about the possibility of an online memoir writing class, as well. So it is with pleasure that we are announcing one, to begin Monday, January 11. (We still have 2 more spots in the in-person class, if you live in the Portland area.)

Many of you are in situations where going to a class won’t work, but you’re hungry for a memoir writing community and for the accountability attending a class creates. If you’re looking for a safe place in which to tell your story and receive support and feedback, whether it’s your first effort or whether you’ve finished a book, this class will satisfy that need.

We will provide prompts, deadlines, teachings that will add to your craft tool kit, and detailed feedback for your writing. You will write, share your writing, and offer gentle feedback and support to each other.

Please contact us for cost and additional information. We’re looking forward to learning and writing and moving closer to the light of truth together with you.

carriewilsonlink@comcast.net or dshucka@teleport.com

2009-11-19T05:48:00.000-08:00

THE CHALLENGER

“You’d like 100 more ‘Freeze Frame’ posters for your Athlete’s Foot store? Got it! They’ll go out on Monday.” I hang up the phone, returning the beige mouthpiece to its base, eyes resting on the cord that is so stretched and kinked it now catches in the wheels of my rolling chair. That’s okay, I’ve only been at NIKE a few months and I heard our whole department is going to move. I’ll get a new phone then. Probably a new chair, too. Maybe even a new computer that will make it easier to enter all the posters that everyone is buying. This one is so huge it needs its own desk. I hear that someday they are going to get so small they can fit on your lap. That will never happen.

I don’t even know who any of the athletes are that are in the posters I sell all day, but it doesn’t really matter. I’ve memorized their information so when anyone asks me I can tell them about Ronnie Lott on “Lotts Lot” or “Dr. K,” Dwight Gooden, from the New York Mets. Some people even still buy John McEnroe’s “Rebel With a Cause,” but mostly people just want the two we have of Michael Jordan. His first one, “Air Jordan” is really why I even have this job. The posters were selling so well and so fast that they couldn’t keep up, they needed to hire a whole new person just to manage the Retail Poster Program, and that’s me. I take home $723.43 a month and Michael Jordan, who is three days younger than me by the way, probably takes that home every day. Or possibly every hour.

It’s kind of funny since I got my only B in junior high in PE and I don’t have an athletic bone in my body, that my first job out of college is working here – where everyone is young, in shape, and spends their lunch hours running. I am young – 23 – but that’s it. But here's the thing, although I am an unlikely fit, I like it here. I love my boss, I love my co-worker, and I love talking to all the vendors that buy the posters, and my friend at the warehouse that distributes them. It works.

They say it’s not what you know, it’s who you know, and that is true – at least for me. In this case I know Teri, the administrative assistant that works for my boss’ boss. We went to college together and ran into each other at a wedding.

“So, are you teaching?” she asked.

Staring straight into her bangs that looked exactly like a sausage roll, I answered, “Can’t find a teaching job in this entire metropolitan area, so now it’s just time to find a job, any job.” I caught an image of myself in the mirrored centerpiece and re-adjusted the bow I had tied around my neck – red, to go with my wide red vinyl belt I wear over my tight white, tea length skirt, and red patent leather flats. The DJ was playing Dionne Warwick’s, “That’s What Friends Are For,” I hummed along. I loved that song.

“Well,” Teri said, “you should apply at NIKE. Use my name. We’d get to work in the same department, it would be fun!”

And it was.

Then one day after we did move our whole department to another building, I drove up, turned off the radio that was playing Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know?” parked and went in. There was a huge screen set up in the common area, folding chairs all around. I went to find Teri in the coffee room and asked, “What’s going on?”

Teri had her head in the frig, pulled out some whipping cream, poured a dash into her cup and turned to me, “Want some?” she asked.

“No thanks, I’m good,” I answered. I could hear Steve Winwood’s “Higher Love” coming from the speaker above our heads. “So what are all the chairs and that big screen doing in the middle of everything?” I asked, grabbing a package of hot chocolate and mixing it with a wooden stir stick in my Styrofoam cup.

“The Space Shuttle Challenger is going to launch this morning – you gotta come watch, they are putting the first teacher up in space, Christa McAuliffe – maybe you’ll be the second teacher up in space, wouldn’t that be cool?”

“Just getting a teaching job would be cool, but yes, doing something that had the whole world watching would be super cool.”

Later I pulled my chair up to Teri’s and we watched for 73 seconds and then all of a sudden the Challenger exploded. I was so shocked I felt nothing at all. No tears came. No words. No feelings at all – just disbelief. Don’t they test those things? I thought it was impossible that something that cost so much money and took so many years to build and plan, could just explode like that. Nobody knew what to do. We sat there in stunned silence. A woman that looked to be nine months pregnant began to cry.

Nobody got any more work done that day, we sat together, strangers and friends, Footwear and Retail Posters, afraid to turn off the TV, afraid to miss any details of the tragedy, afraid to go back to normal.

* photo from wikimedia.org

2009-11-18T10:02:00.000-08:00

Come see me at Hopeful Parents today.

Thanks!

2009-11-17T10:15:00.000-08:00

PLENTY

Rojo's praising of the Lord is so loud it wakes me up. "Table of plenty, table of plenty, come to the table of plenty" he sings. And sings. And sings. And plays on his electronic keyboard. And piano. And drums. And recorder. And harmonica. And every window of the house. And door. And kicks to the beat against the breakfast bar.

STM says, "Look at his joy. Such joy. We are so blessed. How long do you think it would take a stranger to become annoyed," he asks, "two days? Eight hours? What do you think?"

"Fifteen minutes," I say.

I finally extricate myself from the madness and turn on my computer - ready to put on the big, over the ears headphones and escape into my happy place. Dictionary.com has e-mailed me with today's word. Oh, goody, my word for the day! Yea! I love this! I always feel so smug when I know the word and happy to learn a new one when I don't. But today? A little too close to home.

Word of the Day for Tuesday, November 17, 2009

perseverate \per-SEV-uh-reyt\, intransitive verb:

1. To involuntarily repeat a particular response, such as a word, phrase, or gesture, despite the absence or cessation of a stimulus, usually caused by brain injury or other organic disorder.
2. To repeat something insistently or redundantly.

* Photo from oboerista.files.wordpress.com

2009-11-16T18:36:00.000-08:00

GUESS THE YEAR

This week's writing assignment is to write a piece from a particular year, without telling the year. We are to use cultural references, songs, TV shows, events, etc.

Here's what I've got so far from my year:

* The space shuttle Challenger exploded 73 seconds after take off
* Pam Ewing dreamed the whole prior season
* Whitney Houston sang, "How Will I Know?"
* "Oprah" goes national
* Dionne and Friends sang, "That's What Friends Are For."
* Michael Jordan's posters, "Freeze Frame" and "Air Jordan" are flying off the shelves across the county

2009-11-14T07:25:00.000-08:00

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them."

John Fitzgerald Kennedy

I talk to Mary. I'm sure that doesn't surprise you. And sometimes, I swear she answers me. Not a voice, but words come into my mind and they are not mine, so I'm guessing they are hers.

I've been really putting her to work lately, setting her off in a million directions, and putting all my burdens on her. Yesterday, as one particularly sticky situation that could have gone either way, went "my" way, or at least the way I felt was the most positive, I thanked her. "Mary, thank you. That was really great. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," she said.

At first I just thought she was being modest, but I've come to know her better than that. She was being literal. Stop thinking. Put the gratitude in my heart, and get it out of my brain.

* Photo from www.worldofstock.com

2009-11-13T07:26:00.000-08:00

THAT'S MY BOY

While feet kick wildly at the breakfast bar, and in between humming "The Farmer in the Dell," Rojo says, "Mom, I am never going to break up with J. I am always going to be there for her. I am never going to make her life miserable. I am always going to be there if she needs me."

Then he went back to kicking, singing and eating his 25 pieces of bacon before saying, "I wish I had a bodyguard."

"I am your bodyguard," I said while making bacon slices 26-30.

"No. You cannot be my bodyguard, you have small muscles."

I beg to differ.

2009-11-12T06:21:00.000-08:00

TOP 10 CATEGORIES I WISH WERE FEATURED ON JEOPARDY, BECAUSE I'D ACTUALLY KNOW THE ANSWERS

10. Main characters names on "iCarly"
9. Names of all of Malcolm's brothers on "Malcolm in the Middle"
8. Sexual orientation of Sponge Bob and Patrick
7. Jon and Kate's sextuplets names and birth order
6. Tune to every Pac 10 college fight song
5. The exact hours of operation for "The Surf Shack" where "we" are obsessed with getting ice cream
4. Obscure college mascots
3. All the major advertisers for "Wheel of Fortune"
2. The order the advertisements are placed
1. What Pat Sajak is going to say before he says it

2009-11-11T05:16:00.000-08:00

INTO THE FIRE

Last week's writing assignment was to revise and/or expand a previous piece and include a specific bird, a description of the weather, and the color red. I revised the piece I wrote about Grandma's hairpin, just for those of you keeping track. : )

This week has had me tossing and turning, as was the intention, I am sure. We were to do a handwritten quick write for eight minutes starting with the sentence, "I am still afraid to write about..." until we got to the "nugget" of what our piece would be about. THEN the piece was to include MONEY, SEX (or a veiled reference to it), a TABOO (mine or someone else's), and a SECRET (mine or someone else's).

A friend called and shared a very personal story with me that had all four. Eureka! I thought. I was going to cheat and just write out her story, because let me tell you, it's a goody. But her story is not mine, and last I checked, this is a memoir class, and not a tell-me-all-about-your-friend's-life class.

And so I did it. I wrote about something I'm afraid to write about. And someday I may even post it on my blog, but not today. Sorry. Some things are healed by sharing them with others, and some things are healed by bringing them out of the body, onto the page, and then burned.

My friend, Jerri, wrote a blog post about being faced with a difficult situation, and choosing to walk straight into the fire. I've been thinking a lot about that, and fire in general, and it's various properties. I've always been afraid of fire, but there's a purifying component that comes from it that cannot be forgotten.

Sometimes we have to look up, push our chests out, swing our arms with command and walk straight into our fear, straight into the dangerous, straight into the fire.

And out again.

* Photo from freefoto.com

2009-11-10T09:46:00.000-08:00

"What are reborn are our habits.

Enlightenment is the ending of rebirth,

which means a complete nonattachment

or misidentification with all thoughts, feelings,

perceptions, physical sensations, and ideas."

H. H. The Dalai Lama

Sometimes I think my life is straight out of "Groundhog Day," the same stuff coming up over and over and over again, almost, almost comically so. What I'm working on now is the whole idea of nonattachment. I say to myself, when triggered (1,000 x/day), "Detach." And about 1 out of 1,000 times it actually works.

I might go for twice today. God knows there will be plenty of opportunity.

2009-11-09T06:08:00.000-08:00

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

William Wordsworth

Are you interested in memoir writing as a way to heal and to explore the truth and meaning of your life? Are you looking for a safe, warm, and nurturing environment in which you can begin to write your story? If you're ready to express the breathings of your heart, there is a writing class starting in January with a spot in the circle just for you. Please e-mail me at carriewilsonlink@comcast.net and I'll give you all the details.

Click here to read Hope Edelman's post about coming out as closet mystic. : )

* Photo from poietes.files.wordpress.com

2009-11-06T12:53:00.000-08:00

WOOHOO'S TURN

I'm picking up Woohoo from high school in a little bit and we're off. Just the two of us, girls' weekend. We are headed to Bellevue to visit my cousin and her daughter that is Woohoo's age.

My cousin just texted me that the Coronas are chilling.

Can't wait until we are, too.

Have a great weekend, everyone!