Three Girls Grown Up

They come home Friday

2009-07-02T11:25:00.003-05:00

My sister and her husband have been in Ethiopia for ten days. They get home Friday...bringing with them little Ellie Mirta. A new beginning for EM and a new adventure for the family. Check out their blog about the trip.

Also, we're raising money to cover the expenses of the adoption. Go to this Wish Upon a Hero page to find out how you can help.

We can't wait to meet this doe-eyed sweetie!

As the Wheel Turns

2009-06-30T19:55:00.004-05:00

After you've lived with someone a while you sort of know what they are thinking. Or hopefully do. Sometimes it can go woefully wrong, resulting in gross misunderstandings.

But when it works out well, it's awesome.

For example, after a recent storm Rob and I were driving home in separate cars. He was in front of me. I was driving down the road looking at various trees down and other damage from the storm, places of people we know, places of people we don't know.

I made a note of one particular spot where there was some damage and it made me think the wheels of Karma were turning somewhere.

My phone rang. It was Rob who asked, "Are you feeling bad about it?"

"Not at all," I said.

"You know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Yep."

He asked, "Who were you on the phone with a second ago?"

"I was trying to call mom to tell her how I didn't feel bad about it."

He laughed. I asked if HE felt bad about it.

He says, "Definitely not."

"Okay, see you at home."

We drive the last couple of miles to the house and as we pull in the driveway I see we have a lot of storm damage ourselves. As if the unseen forces of the universe could forsee our lack of compassion for someone who has been detrimental to us in the past, could see our lack of forgiveness. It shows me that, indeed, those karmic wheels turn for everyone, not just those we judge as unsavory.

Shame on them, but maybe shame on me, too.

More from Sharkarosa

2009-06-15T16:42:00.004-05:00

Saving Flora and the Sharkarosa Adventure

2009-06-15T14:54:00.005-05:00

We had a little excitement on our block this morning. And now we have a stunning green parakeet perched in a cage in our kitchen. Read about Flora on the Dallas Morning News Metro Blog where my husband posted the story.

This after spending the day with all kinds of rescued creatures at Sharkarosa Ranch in North Texas! Anytime with a new creature is thrilling for me. We were able to hold a baby kangaroo, baby African Crested porcupine and baby kinkajou. We played with a Ruffed Lemur, baby camels and a miniature donkey. There were many other animals we were able to view at close range.

Thanks so much to Sara and Scott who made our day! I encourage you to go! It's a great adventure for you and your family.

The Journey

2009-06-12T11:06:00.002-05:00

I have so much to do. My house needs cleaning. My husband needs to be kissed. My kids need lunch. My dogs need a bath. My thighs need some exercise. My vacation Bible school scripts need to be memorized. My clothes need to be laundered. My shopping needs to be done. My blogs need posting. And my family and friends need to be called! (Oh, there is so much more!)

And so what do I do? I start a new blog- ha - about the life I want -ha! And I sit in my pajama's, one babe in my arms, the other at my feet writing a post about it, thereby committing myself to more posts, more posts, more posts. It's a vicious cycle and I love it.

Please join me on my year-long journey to the life I want -- www.yeartothelife.blogspot.com . I'll need your support to get me through!

Living in Briarcliff

2009-06-06T09:34:00.005-05:00

I am spending a lot of time with my brother and his wife in Briarcliff, a small village outside of Austin, Texas. It is a delightful place. I am here because my fieldwork is only an hour away. Lubbock is 6 hours away and since we are working Mon through Fri, it is too exhausting to drive to Lubbock on Friday after working in the field and turn around and drive back down Sunday so I can be at work by 9am on Monday. So I am spending a few weekends with my brother and sister-in-law. It is a really neat community where deer are ever present . . .
This photo is in my brothers front lawn.

Briarcliff sits just above Lake Travis and is about 30 miles outside of Austin so it is somewhat remote. The landscape is very green and hilly. I am having fun with the brother and sister-in-law . . . Still, I sure do miss my husband.

My husband did come down for Memorial Day weekend, which was also our 3rd wedding anniversary. It was fun for him to meet me at my brothers and stay with me there. On Sunday, we went into Austin to the gigantic Whole Foods (a wonderful grocery store) and had lunch - so many choices! We went to Book People (a wonderful bookstore) and Half Priced Books (a cheap bookstore) and Fry's (a gigantic electronics store), chilled at Opal Devines where we had drinks and recovered from all that walking . . .then we had Ethiopian food at Asters. A delightful day, all around.

That seems so long ago. I am spending another weekend in Briarcliff but should be in Lubbock next weekend. Soon I will be working 10-days with 4-day weekend which is much easier on the commute and will get to at least spend weekends with my husband. Archeology can be tough on relationships!

It's the Name-that-year-and-place Game

2009-05-02T16:17:00.006-05:00

Here are some old photos I discovered . . .some from college.. . some visiting Shannon

Those Were the Days

2009-04-30T23:03:00.002-05:00

#1: Wendy and Shannon at Shannon's grandma's house in the country.

#2: Ginny, Shannon and Diet Coke in Gin's dorm room.

#3: Our feet. Shannon is not in the middle this time!

#4: College friends. Nihad, Shannon, Ginny, Margaret, Laura, Jamie and Wendy.

Ginny's wedding

2009-04-30T19:08:00.003-05:00

Three Girls Photo Challenge: a few from Ginny

2009-04-30T15:25:00.012-05:00

Here is one taken in Paris, Texas, at Shannon and James New Years Eve wedding. I look so tall!

Since I don't have any others with all three of us, I thought I would post a few of those other two! This is from 2003 when Shannon and I visited Wendy.

Three Girls Photo Challenge

2009-04-30T13:03:00.007-05:00

Here's the challenge: Let's see how many photos of the three of us we can dig up! Here's a start.

Top photo: Ginny, Shannon and Wendy - peppercorn, saffron and paprika -- in Santa Barbara, California.

Bottom photo: Wendy, Shannon and Ginny. We are oh-so-happy to be at the reception of Shannon's first wedding -- an elaborately planned and executed Scottish gala. This was a mere hour after Shannon begged Wendy to drive the get-away car while Ginny fended off any pursuers.

Scotland

2009-04-30T12:16:00.004-05:00

When I was married the first time, my husband and I honeymooned in Scotland. All of his mother's family live in Scotland (are Scots) so we were able to stay with relatives and enjoy travel outings. It was mid-November, cold, but so very lovely.

The top photo is me standing on the shore of Loch Ness at sunset. The bottom one is me getting cozy with a Shetland pony when we stayed on one of the Orkney islands.

The country was magical! Inverness was my favorite city with the river and bridges and old architecture. I'd love to go back and stay the summer on the islands. Lazy mornings, long walks over the hills of heather, cycling the winding roads, cider by the fire and writing, writing, writing. Sleeping would be nice, too.

Handmade Card Giveaway

2009-04-29T08:35:00.001-05:00

I'm having a giveaway over at one of my other blogs, A Passion for Letter Writing. It's a gorgeous set of blank greeting cards. Really lovely.

Go check out the giveaway. Who knows, maybe the winner will be YOU!

The French Scare Me

2009-04-28T08:41:00.001-05:00

It occurred to me, finally, what is at the root of my hesitation to travel to Europe. Besides lack of money. And being afraid to travel with my kids. And not knowing what to wear. And not liking to leave my house. Besides all that. Because I can overcome all that, I'm almost sure of it.

The real truth is I'm afraid of the French.

I hope a blanket statement like that doesn't sound culturally racist. Is there a word for that... where in a narrow-minded, grossly general way I summarily dismiss anyone in a particular culture despite the fact that many of that country's citizens might actually be fabulous, brilliant and model citizens of Planet Earth? Oh that's right... xenophobia.

(I don't think it's actually personal against the French. I also fear New Yorkers. I am pretty much against anything faster than me and smarter than me, which is probably 49% of the human race. Maybe 53% on a good day.)

I can't go to France because I don't understand the food. There are all these courses and the cheese plate. I love cheese, but I don't think I really want a cheese plate. And I also don't drink wine. I don't like it, but that's what you have when you get your cheese plate. Which is apparently required. And last night I was watching a travel show and the host said that at a restaurant coffee is served after a meal and if you ask for it during the meal they tell you they will bring it but don't because you're not supposed to have coffee WITH your meal, you're supposed to have it AFTER the meal. Somehow they consider it rude to decline your request for coffee, but lying about bringing it is somehow okay. And I don't even drink coffee. And yet here I am worried about it because I know I am a crass American who is going to do the wrong thing as soon as I step one scruffy sneaker into France.

And even if I figure out about all the courses, how do I know what to eat? Take steak tartar for instance. It's basically ground up raw cow with some raw egg and spices in it. If you served that in America they'd have just enough time to report you to the health department before they subsequently died of e. coli and salmonella. Is American food filthy or are the French just physiologically superior in order to withstand the onslaught to their immune systems?

Also, you never see any fat people in France. Why is that? Do they take them away somewhere? Is it because they eat steak tartar all the time and the food just goes right through them because of all the e. coli and salmonella? I even looked up "Fat French People Conspiracy" on Google which is how I found the book entitled, "Why French Women Don't Get Fat".

What I need to do is find a location on this planet where the natives routinely worship Rubenesque women (oh, how I flatter myself) who like to eat nothing but ice cream and ~~french~~ freedom fries. If there is such a place, someone tell me, because I'll be there. Right after I finish this bag of potato chips.

[photo credit: canon S3]

Pregnant Women are Smug

2009-04-27T15:07:00.006-05:00

This is pretty silly
-and of course no one I know was ever smug like this . . .
I just thought ya'll would enjoy it :)

Pregnant Women are Smug from Erika Lindhome on Vimeo.

Falling apart

2009-04-20T15:54:00.009-05:00

Original by Edvard Munch

Courtesy of: blog.overstockart.com

I'm going to be 40 in less than two months. (Gulps. Screams. Sobs. Resignation.)

Most people say that I don't look my age. Thankfully, they put me a decade or so younger. But these days, I'm really feeling my age.

I sleep with a big body pillow hugged between my thighs and a softer pillow wedged in the small of my back. Still, in the morning, I have to roll over slowly into a fetal position and beg my husband to massage my back into submission.

My knees hurt if I sit cross-legged too long. Honestly, sometimes they do even if I haven't. My ankles like to join the party every now and then.

Just this week, my left wrist started aching so badly, I have it wrapped in an ace bandage. Sure, it could be from hoisting my 20-pound infant or 35-pound toddler. But, I guarantee, if I were a 20-something new mommy, I wouldn't look like a data entry clerk gone wild.

To top it off, my left big toe is getting bigger. I don't know why. It's sore and swollen, an amoeba with its pseudopod veering awkwardly to the right. Nobody told me my toes would go all Darwin on me.

I won't mention the distress I'm having over the 'v' etched between my brows or the fine wood grain wrinkles forming above. I just try not to look anymore.

I've been here before. When I woke up the morning of my 30th birthday, I couldn't move. I had done something to my back and neck. I popped pills and snuggled a heating pad the entire day in the hopes of making it up for my big birthday bash. That knock on my door prompted a focus on fitness. I changed my physique and the way I felt.

Ten years and two kids later, I'm creeping back into the out-of-fit zone. It's time to gear up. It's time to hit the gym, hit my stride, reclaim my bod. Heck, I just want my back to stop hurting.

Introverts

2009-04-13T08:17:00.007-05:00

My husband is an introvert. Introverts are quite misunderstood with their behaviors often thought to reflect snobbery or lack of self esteem when the truth is they are overwhelmed by people. I know because I have some introversion too. When I go to a party, I am very interested in people and talk with them but by the end of the party I am exhausted. Utterly exhausted. Extroverts, on the other hand tend to be energized by the same situation. Or so I understand. . .

This easter, my husband decided he could not handle the large social gathering that we were planning on attending (or rather that I was planning on attending). So he stayed home. I was really worried initially about what kind of signal that would send to my friends and family. I was trying to come up with something to say like he was sick or some such lie, but in the end I told them the truth . . .that he was feeling too introverted and could not come. I hope their feelings were not hurt. And I guess I will have to get use to potentially hurting peoples feelings if I want to go places and see people that he doesn't.

I feel bad for introverts though. Our society can be very judgemental. And introverts simply cannot behave the way extroverts do--their brains are different. They don't make hordes of friends. Although they tend to have a few very close friends. They enjoy time to be by themselves. And this really has allowed our marriage to succeed since I travel a lot, leaving him for 10 days at at a time. If he were extroverted, this would be much more stressful on our marriage, but as it is, he is fine with alone time, although he claims to prefer being with me. Although I am not nearly as severely introverted as my husband, I am somewhat introverted and I love my alone time, that is when I recharge, so I completely understand where my husband is coming from and I hope this helps other people understand too.

I Thought I Was Better, But...

2009-04-08T17:46:00.002-05:00

People who love to write always eventually write about everything. In one way or another.

My family had a very difficult year last year for many reasons. In general for most people I think 2008 was crummy. Late last year I wrote briefly about how things were getting better. I became accustomed to the tornado-ravaged countryside around me. I didn't think constantly about my niece being killed by her husband. I was no longer haunted hourly by the images of two motherless children left behind.

My faith in humanity that was shaken to the core has slowly been rebuilding from the rubble the murder left behind. Bulldozers that were a daily sight in our torn town packed up and went on their way, clean-up mostly finished. My sense of humor returned. My nerves calmed. I felt stronger.

I still don't write about That Event although it's been nearly a year. The first week in May will be a year. Her birthday came and went a week ago and I almost wrote about it then, but couldn't. It seemed whiny and melodramatic. Even writing about not writing about it seems whiny and melodramatic.

Except the other day I ran across a blog on which someone joked about hitting his wife in the head with a shovel. And yesterday I ran across another blog where a woman made a joke about shooting her husband. And today on the news was a REAL story about a woman shooting her son. That was when I realized I wasn't as "normal" as I thought I was.

Sometimes I feel like I've slid into some alternate reality where enemies and strangers are predictable and it's the people you love that are the ones you should worry about.

Frequently debated is the theory that there are "stages of grief". The more modern theories say there isn't really a set pattern of the stages of grief as in the Kübler-Ross model of 5 stages or this other 7 stage model which is what my psyche seems to be following religiously like a playbook where I sit hovering between five and six.

I suppose all that really matters is that people get sad and then they get happy(er) and then they may or may not get sad again before they get happy. But the point is... they get happy again.

Time is all you need. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate...

[photo credit: Gabriella Camerotti]

Hyphen anyone?

2009-04-07T15:27:00.008-05:00

(The hyphenated wedding bouquet, December 31, 2005)

The first time I got hitched, I reluctantly changed my last name. I loved my maiden name and had lived with it for 29 years. I consider it a gift of generations, a cherished part of my family history. Also, honestly, I didn't like my husband's last name. Nasally and unpoetic. But, I did it because it was, well, expected.

"You're not going to be one of those hyphenators, are you?" little, gray-haired church ladies would inquire.

You mean an independent, self-thinker who happens to like her current name?

"Oh, no," I'd answer. "I'd never be one of those."

I did have somewhat of a romantic notion that taking my husband's last name was an act of all-out, sold-out love. So ditching my birth moniker seemed almost worth it to have the dream come true.

"I'll just use my maiden name when I publish," I comforted myself. "That way everyone who knew me 'back when' will know what a gifted, accomplished, well-known writer I've become." Haughty, haughty.

(Note: I'm outing myself for the first time here. I've never told anyone I've even had this thought. Ego ain't pretty. Unearned ego even less so.)

It was physically painful, certainly emotionally so, as I filled out all the paperwork to make official changes to every scrap identifying me. It was as if my hand had been hacked off and tossed in a trash bin.

"We realize this has been most useful to you all your life, but you just don't need this anymore," the world said. "You have a husband now."

It took me nearly a year to change it every where in writing. It was even longer before I could introduce myself without uttering the first syllable of my maiden name then switching to the new one.

Not everyone is so attached to their last name. The fiance of a friend of mine decided to take her last name when they wed. It admittedly gave me pause. Why would a guy give up his name to take his wife's? What about carrying on the family name? As free-thinking as I claimed to be, I just didn't get it. Not that I need to in order for them to be completely confident in the choice. These many years later they are still happily married and have two darling girls. They all share her last name.

The second time down the aisle, I didn't hesitate. I refused to give up something that I so valued again. Can't I honor my father, myself and my husband at the same time?

"I truly hope it doesn't offend you," I told my sweetheart. "That's the last thing I'd want to do. I love you and I'm so very excited about becoming your wife. But, I'm keeping my name, just joined with yours."

Of course, my forever love didn't mind at all. He's pretty secure that way. As he should be. He's got me hook, line and sinker. (And now, two kids and counting.)

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for women taking the name of their husband, if that's what they want to do. My mother did it, my sister did it, most of my friends did it. Perhaps their sense of self is not as attached to a name as mine? They are who they are, no matter what's listed on their Social Security card.

It has been over three years since I became a hyphenator. And I'm pleased with the decision. It's funny -- I'm officially Shannon Morley-Ragland, but most of the time I just introduce myself using my husband's last name. I guess I'm still saving my name for the cover of that novel.

too fun to not post

2009-04-06T19:42:00.001-05:00

Places to go

2009-04-05T09:00:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking about all the spectacular places there are in this world. I've been so blessed in my life to have seen a lot of them, but there are so many more! Here's a growing list of the places I'd really like to see before I die:

Prince Edward Island, Vancouver and Montreal, Canada
Seychelles
Morocco
New Zealand
Tibet
Nepal
Budapest, Hungary
Istanbul, Turkey
Geneva, Switzerland
Vienna, Austria
Bora Bora
Belize
Martinique
St. Petersburg, Russia
Ireland
Bucegi Mountains in Romania
Carpathian Mountains in Eastern Europe
Malaysia
Singapore
Australia
Peru

Where would you like to go?

Veils

2009-04-04T16:54:00.003-05:00

Here's a poem I penned for my sister a few years ago. We were both suffering unhappy times in relationships -- mine ended very badly, hers blossomed into blessing!

Lay your veiled regret upon me,
Bare the ache of things gone wrong,
Visit the dreams that are never to be,
Cry the wounding tears of the silent song.

Laugh into the mist of love’s pleasure,
Bask in the flowered rings of youth,
Vision the jewels of life’s treasure,
Capture the whisper of our hidden truth.

Humane Society of West Texas

2009-04-03T07:46:00.002-05:00

Spoiler Alert: I am shamelessly plugging another website.

I just started a new blog for the Humane Society of West Texas. This is a non-profit organization and the blog is geared to spread the word about this group and to raise some money so please go visit and help! http://hsowt.blogspot.com/

This is a new experience for me, trying to generate money through a blog, but it feels really good to be doing something that will have a positive impact on the needy - in this case cats and dogs who need a home and sometimes need emergency medical care. I recently learned that they call this good feeling a helpers high. I learned that from Wendy's Spread Change blog: http://spreadchange.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-deeds-are-good-for-you.html

So now I am a blogging fool. I am planning on adding a Twitter and a Facebook account to the Humane Society of West Texas's internet repertoire. Hoping to bring more traffic to the site and help these animals. But in the mean time all we have is the blog and we need visitors if we are to make money so please stop by our site!

Constant Conflict

2009-03-18T12:22:00.002-05:00

So my niece is turning 5 on the 23rd of March and I love to shop for presents for her. It is such a differnt experience than with my nephew (who is now 18) for whom I bought legos and toy cars and dinosaurs. Tatum is a girl in every sense of the word. This presents some conflict in me since, throughout my life, I have mostly rejected girlish things - dresses, makeup, and certainly anything to do with princesses! I was a tomboy and still reject those materialistic girly attributes (hair, makeup, clothes) in favor of the techno materialism (any gadget will do) that tends to concetrate in those male members of our society. So it feels weird to buy all these girly things that my niece wants. I resisted at first when she was little, buying her stuffed mammoths and dinosaurs so she would have new and unusual influences . . . but now she is all about princesses and I can't seem to help myself. I must buy this precious little girl all things princess. Jewelry, shoes, coloring books, you name it! This year takes the cake - I got her the PRINCESS JEWELRY BOX / CD BOOMBOX. for the love of pete. It is pink, with jewels for buttons and little places for jewelry next to the place for the cd. Looks like a pink pumpkin turned into a carriage - INSANE I say. What has happened to me! Why am I encouraging this behavior in her! Why do I love it so! All I can say is I am sorry, mom, to not have let you indulge in such gifts when I was a wee lass. Still - I won't be wearing dresses or jewelry or makeup, so nobody get their hopes up!

I am eleven

2009-03-10T14:32:00.003-05:00

I don't want to be grown up. Grown ups have to be responsible, careful and selfless. Grown ups have to be long-suffering and have to plan for the future. I don't want to be grown up. It's far too scary. It's far too much work.

I've been faking it for some time. Everyone thinks I'm a grown up. My kids look to me for security and provision. They rely on me to make everything okay. My husband, the big dummy, leaves these kids with me everyday as he heads for work. I've got him fooled completely. He even trusts me to pay our bills.

I think my friends even believe it. "Check your schedule so we can plan a get-together," they say. Ha.

A glance in the mirror nearly had me convinced just the other day. I've sworn off the things from now on. I can't chance that those lying reflectors will erase the image in my head.

I am eleven. I'm knobby-kneed and skinny-tall. My hair is golden, soft and long. My skin is taut and new. I climb trees and talk to birds. I glide my bike down hills just to hear the wind sing. I eat when I'm hungry and sleep when I'm tired. And sleep and sleep. My feet are bare and brown from the soft spring earth. My mind is violet, my heart is red. I sing into a hairbrush as I prance around my poster-clad room. My tongue is stained apple from a handful of sour Jolly Ranchers. I love horses and Barbies and listening to Shaun Cassidy. Snow days are magical. I'm just now dreaming of my first kiss.

I love my kids, adore my husband. I'm thankful for my life. It's full and meaningful and precious. But, I don't want to be grown up. I just don't.