Not MY Daddy!

Let's say you trust your dad.

Now let's say that your father gathered the whole family together to share some extremely important information. Once you are seated comfortably and are intently focused on what he needed to tell you, he told you that there was ongoing research being conducted to learn how to turn the sky a completely different color every 30 minutes and that our government was paying $8 million dollars to do facilitate that research, would you nod your head and accept it as fact?

Now let's say that he told you there are some states that are accepting children into their schools and turning them into chickens to send home to their families.

Now let's say he told you that some of the new neighbors have dug up your favorite rose bush and eaten it.

Now imagine he told you his boss is going to get rid of all cows.

Next he tells you that God loves him the most.

After that, he tells you that your friends are the most dangerous people surrounding you and they should be 'picked up'.

Oh, and that the idea that the moon affects the tide is a scam.

Further,  he tells you that the thug who vandalized your car did it as an act of love.

Finally, he states that after gathering information on the family's expenses, he has concrete evidence -  that may be flawed - that your jobs, your health care, your education, your security, your earned benefits, and your philanthropy are all waste and are being cut dramatically or eliminated.

So with all honesty, I would absolutely nod my head in agreement and thank him so much for enlightening me and freeing me from incredible burden of living my life under false pretenses.

Then I would call a psychiatric hospital for emergency admittance.  And then I know I would cry.

But you know what would really confound me?  If I had a sibling who then ran to my father, flung their arms around him and said "please tell me more!!"

Yet, THIS IS HAPPENING!!

• " [We cut] $8 million [spent] for making mice transgender. This is real." - Donald Trump, March 4, 2025, Joint Session of Congress (national TV)
• "Kamala Harris supports states being able to take minor children and perform sex change operation - take them away from their parents - perform sex change operations - and send them back home! Can you imagine you're a parent, your son leaves the house and you say "Jimmy, I love you so much. Have a good day at school.' And your son comes back with a brutal operation. Can you even imagine this? What the hell is wrong with our country?" - Donald Trump, September 7, 2024, Wisconsin campaign rally (captured and replayed on national TV)
• "In Springfield, they're eating the dogs - the people that came in - their eating the cats. They're eating...they're eating the pets of the people that live there." Donald Trump, September 10, 2024, Presidential Debate, (national TV)
• To a 6-year-old child: "According to Kamala who is a radical left lunatic, you won't have cows anymore" Donald Trump, October 18, 2024, Fox and Friends (national TV)
• "If Jesus came down and was the vote counter, we would win California" Donald Trump, August 28, 2024, Dr. Phil Show (national TV).
• "I think the bigger problem is the enemy from within. Not even the people that have come in and [destroyed] our country. By the way, totally destroying our country. The towns, the villages, they’re being inundated. But I don’t think they are a problem, in terms of Election Day. I think the bigger problem [is] the people from within. We have some very bad people, we have some sick people, radical left lunatics. And I think they’re the—and it should be easily handled by, if necessary, by National Guard, or if really necessary, by the military." Donald Trump, October 15, 2024, The Daily Blast (podcast, national)
• “You know, they have no idea what’s going to happen. It’s weather,”, Donald Trump, August 24, 2024 among uncountable other times, (national TV, podcasts, radio)
• Regarding January 6, 2011 "That was a day of love" Donald Trump, October 17, 2024, Campaign Event (televised)
• Federal Government Workers,  Centers of Medicare and Medicaide Services, Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, Department of Defense, Department of Education,  Federal Aviation Administration, Federal Emergency Management Agency, Internal Revenue Service, Medicare, National Institutes of Health, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, Treasury Department, US Agency for International Development,  Ongoing since January 20, 2025.  D.O.G.E.

He's not your dad, folks. You do not have to feel sad that he has lost his mind.  You don't need to feel guilt for calling him on it.  You do not have to try to make sense of why he says such scary and crazy things.  

And you absolutely mustn't ever give him "the benefit of the doubt".

If something sounds wrong - DO YOUR HOMEWORK!!  Its only democracy at stake.  We need to do something.

A Ramble that Leads to Joy

Last night, we had tickets to see "Old Friends" a Sondheim tribute of sorts at the Ahmanson.  

I dreaded the 2 hours it would take us to travel 51 miles to downtown Los Angeles due to painful and inexplicable traffic.  Further, I had run out of Celexa the night before and so I was going in to the event compromised.  Bob was irritating me by breathing.  The clothes I had planned on wearing were in the laundry and not, as I had expected, ready to pull out of the closet.  This made me scramble at the last minute to find something suitable.  There was failure toward that end.  I slipped on a jacket and a glance in the mirror showed me the final effect: matronly over weight woman who has done all her clothes shopping on Amazon.  Looking in the mirror with disappointment,  I could literally hear myself asking "Who AM I"? 

Driving down our hill, we noticed what has been a growing population of coyotes who have, after many years of hiding in the hills behind us, begun to walk the streets of our neighborhood as if they have decided to take back their land.  A particularly healthy one crossed the street in front of us and gave us a look as if to say,  "what are you looking at?"  Bob continued to drive down the winding road looking at the animal and I had to scream to keep him from running straight into a Mercedes parked on the street.  

I just wanted to go home.

Starving, since the only thing in our cupboard was an open bag of stale tortilla chips, we had to drive-thru a  McDonalds for a hamburger and fries - not exactly pre-show dining - before picking up our friends.  Once there, I asked for aspirin.  Linda looked amazing, as always.  She is a former Dean Martin Gold Digger and, just inside her 7th decade, looks 20 years younger than any of our friends.  Not from surgery.  From self care.  Damn her.  

We arrived without incident.  With headache gone, and a small plastic cup of inferior wine purchased in the lobby, we walked to our seats, passing a wide array of sophisticated looking theatre goers, along with a large contingency of homosexual Bernadette Peters fans dressed to be "noticed" from across a football field.   Very "extra" but I loved them.  (Thank you for loving so much the Broadway icons of my youth.)

Finding our seats, I was struck by a what seemed to be a tectonic shift in the process of getting ready to just sit down.  Am I crazy or did sitting down used to be just a function of bending knees and lowering your body without thought or interruption of conversation?   Tonight , it seemed so  - complicated.  Walking down the narrow row to find my seat required concentration.  I felt like I was on a balance beam. "Can you hold my program as I hold on to the arm rests and carefully lower myself to my seat while grunting which has suddenly become a default utterance that I believe will somehow help support my arthritic knees?  Can you hang onto it one moment more while I try to adjust my jacket so it doesn't feel like it is strangling my left shoulder"?  Again, "who AM I"?

Scanning the program, I looked for people I knew in the show.  In my past, there were always at least two or three people I actually knew or were at least familiar with.  I looked at the cast list.  No one.  ("God, I hope these people are up to the task.")

The set was lovely and melancholy.  Flanked by beautiful photos of Steven Sondheim exuding the
tremendous love for his own work, I found myself stricken again with sadness that he had died just 3 years ago.  I am passionate about the theatre.  Specifically musical theatre and more granularly, Sondheim musicals.  My soul misses him tremendously.  I waited for the lights to dim to see another lovely Sondheim music fest which would no doubt meet my standard expectations.  To be honest,  I'm just not "feeling it" these days and I could have easily stayed home.

The show began and our two headliners - Bernadette Peters and Lea Solanga - came out to open the show.  Then the entire cast of people I had never heard of came out to sing  "Comedy Tonight" .  And it was fine.

But THEN...

Forgive the gush but seriously - one jaw dropping performance after another from the most exceptional cast of  uniquely talented artists I can recall ever being assembled in one show.  Each one of them could have carried a show on their own and there were three mid-show standing ovations - I've never witnessed that before.  I was brought to tears six times during the course of the evening.

I watched their feet.  I remember vividly what standing on the boards felt like.  It's not at all the same as standing on a regular floor.  And through that memory, I lived vicariously through this ensemble to the point where I nearly felt like I was up there with them.  I silently mouthed the words to nearly every song but my heart was singing wildly.  

And then I realized that this evening was so perfectly beautiful that I felt something I haven't felt in quite a while.  Joy!  And through my tears I also realized that I need to feel more of that.  

We all have passions that feed our soul and bring us joy.  For some, it may be baseball.  Or poetry.  Or math.  For me, it is this.  The very best in Broadway musical theatre.  Thank you Mr. Sondheim.  I still need you.

 

This Christian's View on Trump

When I was about 9 years old, my Grandma Maggie was visiting.  She came into my bedroom, sat on my bed, and told me about Jesus.  My parents were not religious.  We did not go to church.  But when she told me about him, I knew it to be true.

For nearly 60 years now, I have been a believer.  I have gone through seasons of doubt, but I have never stopped believing.  In fact, I believe that God has talked to me.  Not in a way that I actually heard anything, but a strong impression on my heart.  I strongly believe in the power of prayer.  I have witnessed and been given true, inexplicable miracles in my life.  If anyone wants to know about them, just ask.  

I am not a bible scholar.  I have read the bible - to greater or lesser degrees - throughout my life.  Sometimes I understand it.  Sometimes I do not.  But the tenants of my faith are those that would label me as "born again".  I am not ashamed to state that I am a born again Christian.

In 2016 and again in 2024, huge numbers of evangelical Christians supported Donald Trump to lead our
country.  He had the full support of most of our most nationally recognized faith leaders.  I could not understand this.  The thought of Donald Trump as our president filled me with fear.  Like I had put my

 BLASPHEMY!

hand into a bag of spiders.

I understand that the primary reason in 2016 was his alleged stance on abortion as well as his support of Israel.  Not that his opponent was against Israel.  She was not.  But he promised to recognize Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, something his predecessors backed away from.  And with that, the Word was spoken, and evangelical leaders endorsed.  And with them, millions followed.

Trump had much bigger plans but a parade of cabinet members and advisors pulled the reigns in, as best they could.

In 2024, something much more sinister was happening.  Without saying it directly (although many of his supporters did), his campaign rhetoric smacked of messaging to a white, Christian nation.   And out came millions of Christians wearing MAGA hats and t-shirts saying:  Jesus is my Savior.  Trump is my President.  As though the two were a political team.

As Christians, we turn to our faith leaders to help us understand God and His word, and understand how we can honor God with our lives.  But there is a danger leaving all the answers up to our leaders.  Faith leaders are human, and a great many of those who have been most celebrated have fallen in disgrace by the trappings of notoriety, success, and wealth.  They have fallen to hypocritical and immoral behavior.  And haven't we all?  But remember that 1Timothy 3:1-7 is very detailed about what a church leader should look like and when he falls, what should be done.  Yes, we are to sincerely forgive, but those leaders need to be stripped of their leadership. They should not be guiding followers to the voting box.  Your pastors should not be looking past the behaviors and the evidence they see.

There are many things that have gone very wrong with this country that need immediate attention and change.  We have immigration problems.  We have corruption.  We have abuses.   And no one denies this.  But let me respond to this presidency from a biblical perspective.

Trump is NOT the new King Cyrus.  He did not create peace in chaos.  In fact, he is creating chaos and alienating some of our closest allies.

Trump is dismantling our government.   Jeremiah 23:1 says: "Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture".   

Trump is surrounding himself with unqualified and dangerous "yes men" and women.  Proverbs 14:7 "Stay away from a fool for you will not find wisdom on their lips".  And to those who confirm these appointees, Proverbs 25:16:  "Like a muddied spring or a polluted well are the righteous who give way to the wicked".

Trump's antipathy toward immigrants and refugees is shocking.  Christians must see this.  Trump has consistently said that immigrants are are drug dealers and rapists and criminals and murderers and "losers" implying that all who come to this country for a better life and/or seek refuge are people to be feared.  Proverbs 16:28: "A perverse person stirs up conflict".  James 4:11-12: "Brothers and sisters, do not slander one another.  Anyone who speaks against a brother or sister or judges them, speaks against the law and judges it."  And to those who will not speak up for "the least of these": Psalm 101:5: "Whoever slanders his neighbor secretly, I will destroy".  Remember, the meek will inherit the earth.

Trump is going after anyone who had anything to do with July 6th rioters and his own prosecution and conviction.  Romans 12:9:  "Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written 'vengeance is mine, I will repay', says the Lord."  And this assumes vengeance is warranted.

Ask yourself, would you have given grace and pardoned Biden or Obama if either of them had made the "grab 'em by the pu**y" comment or had a close friendship with Jeffrey Epstein?

Would you have given grace to Michelle Obama or Jill Biden had they posed naked but for 6 inch heels for publication and would you have defended it with Pat Robertson by saying that it was "art" celebrating the beauty of God's creation?  I saw the photo.   I don't think God was on anyone's mind.   This is politics, guys.  And Jesus would have NO part of it.

All this says nothing of his blatant lies, tax evasion, misuse of his own charity's funds, non-payment for services, and outright fraud (Trump University).  Really? Y'all are cool with this?

Did I cherry pick scripture?  Scripture is made for cherry picking.  It says what it says.  

Finally, yes, the bible also says to obey your rulers because God has given them their authority.  But when a leader is asking us to just accept that he is breaking laws, ignoring our constitution, giving power to unvetted billionaire pals, dismantling our securities and guardrails, surrounding himself with hand picked sycophants, making enemies of our neighbors, ruining peoples' lives because they dared to stand up to him, or, were just doing their jobs - do you thing God wants us to support that?  I think not.  

In faith, in politics, and in life, do not follow leaders because you think they have a special and direct line to God's word.  Our leaders can be wrong.  They can be misled.  YOU have a direct line.  Do the work and seek the truth!! 

We must resist.  And we must pray.   Do not be deceived.

• Galatians 6:7: "Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap" 
• James 1:16: "Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers" 

• 1 Corinthians 15:33: "Do not be misled: “Bad company corrupts good”

The Color of Age

Well, after years of professional "couch potato-ing", I was awarded for my lack of effort, with the internationally recognized "double-arm bat wings".  Since then I have upgraded to general loose skin of the arms.

Don't be jealous.

I am by nature a modest person so I normally I wouldn't flaunt such an achievement but in this case, I have never been comfortable in long sleeves so I haven't the wardrobe to conceal it.

There are a few things I can do to partially mitigate the appearance but the years of couch potato-ing has kept me from developing the skills I need to do this.  Namely, exercise.  My husband literally walks around the house, working the muscles in his arms with 15lb weights several times a day so I always figured he was doing enough for both of us.  Imagine my surprise when I found it doesn't work that way.

I have beginner weights - 2 pounders - to help me get started.   Let me tell you - to exercise the biceps, triceps, and myriad of other muscles in the arms is painful and complicated.  Painful because waking them up after years of hybernation is not easy.  Complicated because it requires that you be aware of relaxing every other part of your body and not to strain your neck and back muscles to compensate.  My therapist (yes, I have one), tells me that I am not good at taking care of myself.  So I must continue with this practice.  Tomorrow. 

Completely unrelated but relevant to the topic of my arms, is a brand new development.

I am a very fair skinned individual and to my daily surprise, I am aging.  And seemingly overnight,  I have developed something called - I kid you not - senile purpula.  While not exclusive to fair skinned individuals, if shows up predominantly in people like me.  Mostly effecting arms, hands and legs (and sometimes under your eyes), it is caused when your skin becomes thinner and bruising happens right below he surface.  AND, bruising like this happens very easily.  You often don't have any idea what you did to cause the bruise.  In my case, it appears I get it from breathing.  And the color?  Deep purple!  Never my favorite color.

There is nothing dangerous about this.  But apart from some supplements you can take to help, there is no cure for it.  

So I've got to laugh about it all.

For the most part, I love my life and I do not feel old - even with knee, ankle, and hip surgeries looming in my future (arthritis).  The truth is, while I may not be good at taking care of myself, these things just don't keep me up at night.  Seeing what is naturally happening to my body doesn't make me happy but oh my God - there are so many more important things to worry about.  Like my memory.  And our future.

I have often thought about cosmetic help.  Getting braces again, tummy tuck, breast reduction, neck lift -  all of these have all been on my radar.  In fact, I had my eyelids done about 10 years ago and now they look like they did before the surgery.  Please understand, I am not against these procedures at all!  In fact, I'm not going to say that I will not have any or all of these procedures done sometime in the future but as the years go by, it seems less and less likely.

So to the high school Class of 1975, join me in accepting that our bodies are completely acceptable - warts and all.  We may be seniors but we are not old by a long shot. Focus on health, not youth.  Do what you can toward that end, even if you've just started.  And do not be ashamed to let those bat wings fly!

And in Today's News...

Okay.

I needed to take a day to clear my mind.  

I want to begin by stating that I do NOT intend for this blog to be all about our current administration. But my decision to begin writing again and the start of a second term for the current president,  coincidentally aligned.  When literally daily, the entire nation is seeing and reading the most outrageous edicts and acts of "the-one-who-shall-not-be-named",  its hard to ignore.  

We experienced a national tragedy on Wednesday night.  We lost 67 people in a horrible mid air crash above the Potomac.  In the immediate hours following this event, while the country tried to wrap its mind around the loss of life, dreams, hope, and potential in the worst airplane disaster in decades, this country's leader took the opportunity to take the podium and engage in another of his mind-numbing, self-serving, rambling, non sequitur rants focused primarily on the "fact" that the crash was due to DEI hires.  Before we had ANY information, while we are still waiting for the recovery of all the bodies, before the recovery of any black box, before any information about who was working in the air traffic control tower or whether or not protocols had been followed, when asked by a member of the press how he could conclude the disaster was caused by a DEI hire, the Commander in Chief of our great nation responded: "Because I have common sense".  

Here's some common sense:  If you are a member of ANY minority, prepare yourself.

Simultaneously, we are grappling with pages of Project 2025 directives being launched with a flick of his poisonous pen.

To say nothing of those he wishes to surround himself with: 

As Secretary of Defense: a misogynistic, alcoholic, weekend "entertainment" commentator who has nothing that even nears a genuine education, experience, or qualification for the job,

As Head of the FBI: a proven liar and QAnon consipracy sympathizer, who promises to turn FBI headquarters in to a "Museum of the deep state" who has nothing that even nears a genuine education, experience, or qualification for the job,

As Health and Human Services Director: a former drug addict and aggressive anti-vaxer who stated in his hearing that citizens are unhappy with Medicade because premiums and co-pays we too high, and who apparently has a dead worm in his brain and has nothing that even nears a genuine education, experience or qualification for the job,

As National Intelligence Director: a party-jumping politician with alarming associations with traitors and foreign enemies and has nothing that even nears a genuine education, experience, or qualification for the job,

and so many more!  

And that's the latest news from what just has to be the alternative universe.

Is this Real Life??

As you might imagine, people who publish their thoughts do not publish ALL of them.  I have more drafts in my blog than those I sent out into the universe.  

Such is the case with one I started on November 9, 2016:

It is November 9th, 12:08 a.m.  I haven't written a thing in years.  But I cannot sleep tonight and I felt like going here to try to make sense of what just happened to our country, to my family.  To me.

When it became clear that we were going to elect the most unqualified person I could possibly imagine to lead our country for the next four years, I broke down and sobbed.  I was surprised at the depths from where my sobs came.  And I cried for a good long while.  My husband came and my daughter as well and we all just held each other.  We all cried.

For those who believed Hillary Clinton was "a crook", well, I haven't anything to say to you.  For those of you who believe that Donald Trump is a  brilliant visionary who will lead us into "greatness" and put us all on the road to "winning", well, I have less to say to you.

I truly am frightened about what lies ahead for our nation and the world as a result of this impossible outcome.  We are not "one nation, under God, indivisible".  We are severely divided.  What monsterous moth has been eating away at the very fabric of this country to cause such anger and fear?

So unbelievably, we brought him back, in 2024.

I can hear "delete" clicks as I type this.  You can cancel me,  cancel away.  Perhaps I'm just preaching to the choir.  But something unspeakable is happening to this country.

So much has been said already.  And it truly does feel as though I am dreaming.  In fact, I honestly DO wake up some mornings and turn on the news and suddenly remember, "Wait!  That really did happen"!  And yes, it did.  And even more bizarre, some people - in fact a LOT of people - are actually happy about it.  In fact, some people I love are happy about it.  And frankly, I just don't know what to do with that.

This was not a normal election.  It was many times more cataclysmic than 2016.  Because now, Trump is emboldened.  And he is not making the mistake of hiring reasonably qualified people to fill his cabinet.  The last time around, he hired and fired routinely as soon as his self-proclaimed "Best People"  woke up and said "Oh my God!  What unspeakable hell is this?".  No, this time he is assigning the most important cabinet seats on earth to unqualified, spineless, alcoholic, corrupt lemmings and "yes men" (and women) to help him usher in the end of our Republic.  Just because he can.

During the first week of his presidency, he has used his alarming jagged, maniacal signature to sign a stunning number of executive orders ranging from controversial and compassionless to ruthless, retributive, and unconstitutional.  His juvenile posts from his very own social media site read as though written by a petulant, spoiled, embarrassing 12 year old.  He is fearless this time around, courtesy of the unscrupulous and nefarious "justices" Trump forced onto the Supreme Court by bullying a congress of cowards set on selling their own souls rather than face the possibility of of an election without his "support".  And as a reward, we now have a president who operates above all law.  For those of you who may be offended by my rant, please understand:  The law does not apply to Trump!  Ever!  For anything!  Even Murder.  (And if you don't believe me, google it. )

And I cringe when I hear "all politicians are the same", "all politicians are corrupt", all politicians lie".  Yes, I know.  You want to know HOW I know?  Because all humans have episodes of corruption and all humans lie.  But this corruption and lying is premeditatively designed to take down a most noble experiment of governance.  And our forefathers warned us about what could happen if we voted in a tyrant.  

So when faced with what appears to be a formidable, overwhelming, and unstoppable force, what can we do?  We can fight back.

Final thought:  Beware of normal looking men (and women) who have somehow convinced you of what you need and then promised you everything.  Make sure you ask to see their teeth.

Hello! Is Anybody There?

I decided I wanted to write a little bit again.   So I was thinking: "I can't post on 'Dumping My Purse'!  Its been too long.  It would be too weird."  Then I remembered that "Dumping My Purse" was my site and I can do whatever the hell I want

Me, 2009

 On June 22, 2009, I posted my very first composition on my blog.  I named the blog "Dumping My Purse".  The last time I posted was July 22, 2014.  It has remained dormant for nearly 16 years.  

Yesterday, with a LOT of time on my hands, I re-read quite a number of my posts and in truth, they weren't bad.  Some of them were "meh" but some of them were pretty good.  And a couple of them made me laugh out loud.  I'm not embarrassed by any of them (although they do tend to be lengthy).  So here we go.  Let's see if the old gal still has some chops.

I've spent some time in review.  I have entered into an entirely new "season". (We say "season" now instead of "age" but frankly, no matter the word you use, it all says "old".)

I've posted "then and now" photos of me.  These photos were chosen to make you think: "Wow she looks great!  She's hardly aged!"  I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. The photo from 2024 was attempted about 7 times before it successfully hid a massive double chin.  And while I wore sunglasses in 2009 due to bright sun, the glasses in 2024 are also for cosmetic reasons.  Your eyes may be the windows to your soul but they also rudely scream the ravages of time.  Not that I am ashamed to be my age (ahem) but I'll need a little more courage to reveal exactly how hold I am.  Let's just say I was an adult when big shoulders, big earrings, and big hair were in fashion.  And I wore them all well.  And I learned to type when it was standard that you add two spaces between sentences.  Okay, okay.  I'm 67.

Me, 2024

If you had kids before 2014 when I last posted, like I did, they are all grown and gone now.  Some of us have married, some divorced.  Some re-married.  Some have become grandparents and some are very happily single.  Some have lived the dream, and some have lost it all.  Sadly, some have died. 

Time marches on - for better or worse.  I've had a bit of both.  The best being retirement and a great deal of wonderful travel.  The worst being that my oldest daughter, Amanda, had to go through breast cancer (she is fine now).  I image I will pull from these experiences from time to time as I write.  I still have a lot of things to talk about.  Sadly, brevity is not my strength.  I hope people who choose to read this "season" of blogging will find it entertaining but in truth, at this point in my life, I am writing it for me.  Something to leave behind for my kids someday.

One thing that hasn't changed at all?  My lipstick.  Clinique "Black Honey".  My shade forever.

Next time:  The toad that occupies the White House.

Jane's Breasts

Last week, Jane ("Reconnected", August 6, 2009) had these beautiful photographs of her gorgeous 52-year-old-but-who'd-ever-believe-it body taken.  They were taken as her "before" photos.  This week she will have a mastectomy.  Lurking behind those beautiful breasts are unwanted collections of rogue cells.  She has cancer.

Can't you tell?

Jane wanted pictures taken of her body before her surgery.  When I first saw these photos, the sight of her loveliness so distracted me from the subject at hand that the only thing that crossed my mind was "did mine ever look that good?"

I haven't really spoken with Jane in a while so this news was very jarring.  As I have been reading her inspiring Facebook page (My Journey With Breast Cancer), I have given a lot of thought to Jane and me.  And our breasts.

I have spent a great deal of my adult life being frightened of facing what Jane is facing now.  And one day it could be me as easily as it could be any other woman, so I really tried to put myself in Jane's shoes.  It led me to focus on the importance of a woman's breasts during her life.

We see our breasts every single day of our lives.  I developed modesty about my nipples when I was about 5.  So just think - we had awareness of them even then.  At 11, I realized how much toilet paper it took to fill the space between my flat chest and my mother's bra.  At 12, I prayed that they would start to grow.  Already.  PLEASE!  At 13, when my breast buds started to develop, they hurt and I wondered if I would ever sleep on my stomach again.  At 14, I experienced the power they gave me.  Boys noticed me.  Later in my life, they were an important part of my sexuality.  As a mother, they represented life.  As a woman, they are part of me.  I have dressed to cover them properly while at the same time trying to accentuate them. There is intrigue and mystery and beauty in women's breasts.  It seems to me that if I were to lose them, I would experience true grief.  All women would.

Jane is surely feeling that too.  And I'm sure she is scared and that tears come easily.

It would be easy to be terrified and anxious and angry and paralyzed by news of cancer.  I would struggle with those emotions.  But what Jane seems to have come to terms with is that breast cancer - cells turning against her body - can be treated and overcome.  Ultimately it is temporary. Even for those who die.   What she knows is that the true terror, the real danger is cancer of the spirit.  It is eternal.  From that, Jane is safe.  For Jane, there is no other way: she chooses life.  Big life.  She has embraced this darkness and shed her own, enormous light upon it.  Nothing to fear.  There it is.  And soon it will be gone.  Without her breast, she is undiminished.

It occurs to me that Jane has been going through a season of big purse dumping.  And this week, when her surgery is over, it will be empty.  And pristine.  And she will begin to fill it again.  But with the wisdom of a life she has always to live with joy and courage, she will be selective and purposeful about what goes back in.  Because she knows she is defined not so much by what she carries in her purse, but what she doesn't.  And defeat and sorrow and self pity will not find its way in there.

And that's Jane.

So my prayer for her is that she feels herself comfortably nestled in the palm of God's merciful and loving hand, that His healing breath envelop her, that His spirit fill her and draw her nearer to Him over these next several months, and that she has written on her heart: "For I know the plans I have for you, sayeth the Lord.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

I'm betting the "after" pictures will be equally stunning.




Jane is going to need a little financial help though - if you feel so inclined, you can give a little at this website:
https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/5345/jane-george-s-breast-cancer-fund

Battle Weary but Back

In the beginning.  No job worries.

I took some time off.   It was a tough year.

Not that everything was bad - it wasn't.  There was a lot of fun stuff too.  But I was on the wrong end of the age and weight spectrum at my job.  And it never occurred to me that that I would ever have to face something like that.

I won't pretend to know what real, lifelong discrimination is about.  I just know what my little year-long struggle was like.  I can't imagine how people survive serious lifelong discrimination without hurting someone.  I guess they have many dreams of retribution.  I did.

We got new management.  I can say without too much hyperbole that the new top dog was as dumb as hair.  Came in and fired just about everyone - but me.  But then came a year of transparent and ridiculous obstacles and attempts to cause me to fail or quit.  I know how corporate structures operate so I knew HR would not be of significant help.  And of course, I was right.   It had nothing to do with performance.  I fought back for nearly a year until they found a way to make sure I would leave.  They changed the requirements of my job.  Suddenly I was required to have more years of experience in the industry than I had.  Nothing I can do about that.  So without notice I was replaced and they moved me over to a position I was not suited for.  In spite of the fact that I was their top producer.

And all the while, they smiled warmly.  Hmmmm.

And that's all there is to say about that.

In walks God, though.  Within three weeks of deciding to surrender, I found myself at a wonderful company that I love.  Management that I love.  Product that I love.  And the package wasn't bad either. I'm into my 4th month there and still feel happy.  Happy about my job.  I had forgotten what that was like.

But for those who never get to the other side of their battle - I don't know what to say.

I ALMOST Saw "World War Z"

It's very hot and as I said in an earlier post, while the tenants of our rental property are enjoying the benefits of a brand new air conditioning unit, we are not.  I have a fan.  So to beat the heat, in spite of fatigue from a stressful week and a very full weekend, I went to the movies with Bob to sit in a cool building with comfortable seats.

I had wanted to see "World World Z" because it looked like a fun alien film, ala "Independence Day" from years ago - with action, humor, a slew of heroes, and an appropriate amount of suspense.  Naturally, Brad Pitt was a draw as well.

This was not that movie.

You should know that I have some sort of issue with the muscle under my left shoulder blade.  This is turn is causing tension and achiness in my left bicep and ultimately, my fingers.  Its sort of a "knee-bone's-connected-to-the-leg-bone" kind of phenomenon.  And really is starts with my neck and I am working like mad to remember to relax my shoulders and willfully release my muscles from a general flexed state.

This movie was counter-productive to that goal.

I cannot tell you much about this film.  Apart from a scene where Brad Pitt is making pancakes for his kids, there is little about this film that gives you a break.  And because that scene comes in the very beginning of the movie, I didn't really need a break yet.

This movie was like "Jurassic Park" meets Michael Jackson's "Thriller" (without the cool choreography).  

Mostly, my eyes were closed but I peeked often enough to see that the CGI was pretty good.  Too good.  One scene made me fairly nauseous.  Early on, I leaned in to Bob and said "I may not make it through this movie.  If not I'll just go sit outside".   But in thinking it though, the record heat today made this option nearly as terrifying.

I used be able to sit through a suspenseful movie or TV show with the best of them but I have noticed a gradual inability to cope.  My  internal "Anxi-o-Meter" starts going ding-ding-ding-ding-ding at the first hint that a restful, peaceful scene is about to be corrupted by an unexpected, sudden entrance of evil.  It doesn't matter that I know it is coming - when it does I nearly pee my pants.

So I just counted my Raisinets, looked at my fingernails, the seat in front of me, Bob, the ceiling, and in all that free time, I realized that the reason we could endure the suspenseful and frightening in films at a younger age was that we didn't have the filter that now keeps us from ruining the experience for those around us.  We were free to scream back at the screen, warn the hero, carry on, and not give a whit about the old guy sitting in front of us.  And I think if I had been able to scream at the Israeli people safe behind the walls (for those of you who have seen it, you know) to stop their singing and shut the hell up, I might have been able to watch the scene unfold.  I understand it was pretty spectacular - as zombie acts go.  I did get a glimpse of a female zombie in a shredded pink dress gyrate and take off toward the action to get her share of human flesh.  I will say too that there was one line in the movie I loved: "Mother Nature is a serial killer".  Great line.  But as a hypochondriac, I will no doubt play it over and over again in my head - everytime I feel the need to see a doctor.

So at the end of the film, I walked away with muscle spasms in my arms and neck and it hurts to type this.  But I am safe now, at home.  And Bob is on the roof with the hose.

And maybe that's what we should have done in the first place.

Post Birthday Reflection

Celebrating my many years...

I worked yesterday, on my birthday.  I was taken to lunch and given gifts.  I was given a lovely red velvet cake and I was pleased.

When I got home - there was a card and a balloon and a cake in the refrigerator.  Bob immediately told me he had been all over all day looking for something to get me but gave up.

Really.

In fairness, I don't even know what I want for my birthday that doesn't cost several thousand dollars.  And it is also true that I will return something I don't want - which I have been known to do.  But after nearly 21 years of marriage, I thought it was fairly unimaginative of him.

What he did bring though was a chocolate cake that he crammed 72 candles on (nearly 20 too many) and lit them all for a "make-a-wish-and-blow-out-the-candle-inferno" photo opportunity.  In spite of it being a horrifying reminder of how flammable my cumulative years have become, I thought it was kind of funny.  I was well lit, anyway.

But there would be a penalty for having brought no gift.  So when we chose a movie to watch and got comfortable and ready to be entertained, I handed Bob my brush and he and Grace took turns brushing my hair.  For the duration of the movie.

Happy Birthday to me.  Best damned present I can think of.

But I'm still going to buy myself something.

I Am NOT 56. I Am NOT 56. I Am NOT 56.

Ready for my closeup...

Yes I am.

Actually I am 55 years, 51 weeks, and 6 days old.

But who's counting?

All I can say is that if 50 is the new 30, 56 is...

... the new 56.

It isn't that I feel 56 (whatever that means).  It certainly doesn't  feel like I thought it would feel when I was 25.  It was inconceivable.  I thought it would feel old.  And I don't feel old.

It isn't that I don't feel "cool"  anymore - although my soon-to-be 14 year old can't resist an opportunity to tell me that I'm not. (But what the hell does she know?)

It isn't that I don't feel relevant.  Who cares that I don't know the names of 20-year-old movie stars who make careers of playing vampires with issues.  Or that I don't know what "My Chemical Romance" is or how a chemical could be romantic - or owned - let alone sing.  (Though I understand that the romance that was chemical belongs to no one any longer.)

It isn't that I'm spending time figuring how many years fewer I have to live than I have lived already.  (Although I am.)

It isn't about maybe becoming a mother-in-law.  (Although that is pretty weird.)

I'll tell you what it is.  It's gravity.

Its about actually knowing just how high and at what angle to hold my head in order to hide the three (yes, count 'em - three) chins that clearly are going to require surgical intervention.  

It's about eyelids that have drooped so low that they now resemble foreskin.

Its about just-above-the-knee skirts that aren't long enough and not being able to wear sleeveless.  Its about fat around your knees, and not being able to walk in heels anymore.  It's buying hair color in bulk when its on sale.  It's about the line of your mouth dropping from neutral to frown.

Its about finally seeing what my parents saw when they told me I looked like my grandmother.

But you know what?  Its also about having a story.  And I've had a pretty good one.  And as they say, "It ain't over till the fat lady sings".

And I'm only humming.

Lost Dogs

Toby and Bob

I am very used to the dogs not getting excited when I get home.  They know better.  I do not respond in kind.  So when I came home today and saw that Bob's car was gone, I expected that they would be in the backyard and that I could walk through the door with relative peace.  And that is just how it went.

Bob returned home half an hour later and a half hour after that we realized that the dogs had not reacted when he got home.  Usually, they go running through the house, barking like maniacs, jumping at the door and then all over him when he walks through it - as though they'd been worried sick that they would never see him again and then, had just been returned safely by the police.

Jack

Something was wrong.  We knew they were gone when we realized that they hadn't reacted to Bob's arrival but we went through the motions of looking through the house and yard.  They were not there.

Bob got in the car and and started to search.  Grace went with him.

I stayed home and pondered life without Toby and Jack.  My feelings were very mixed.  The thought that "nature" in the form of coyote, rattle snake or other predator taking them was really unbearable.  I could see their doggy eyes in my head and picture how they loved me even if their love was unrequited.  If I ever cried, they'd come to me as if to ask "what can we do?"  If I ever did reach down to pet them, they were always grateful.  Toby learned that I would laugh when he would smile (baring his teeth), so he would often come up to me and do his trick.   Just for me.   Without being asked.  Jack caught on that I don't like to be licked.  So he doesn't do it.  He will just sit at my feet and resist the urge to do what dogs do to show affection.  Gross as it is.

On the other hand, it would be the end to pee stains, and furniture with holes chewed in it, incessant barking when they want in or out - a million times a day - muddy paws, bad breath, humping the legs of visitors, dragging their butts across the carpet to deal with an itch (aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!), and general disobedience.

Bob and Grace returned from their search without the dogs.

The full impact of loss felt followed them into the house.  Especially Bob because while he sucked it up, Bob was devastated.  He had resigned to them being gone and while he sucked it up, shrugged his shoulders and said "well, whaddaya gonna do?", he paced the floor and wouldn't look at me.  I knew he was beside himself with grief and he was mad at me.  Mad because he had to be mad at someone.  Mad at me because I didn't love them.

I asked him if he wanted me to make a poster.  He said "I guess".  But in his heart he knew they were gone.  For good.  And my heart broke for him.  I knew the girls would cry and be upset, but I actually worried about how Bob would get over it.  He loves those dogs nearly as much as his kids.  And they give him the constant affection he craves.  There have been many times I have awakened to find him sleeping on the couch with the dogs all over him.  He always makes an excuse ("I couldn't fall asleep", "you were snoring")but I know it is because he loves the cuddling.  When I sleep, I need my space.  I like to cuddle too but when its time to sleep, you go your way and I'll go mine.  They are never angry with him.  They adore him.  And so, he loves them.  Completely.

I always talk about how Bob is a boy.  And it is really true that there is a lot of "boy" in him.  But I was witnessing a man.  My man experiencing sadness I hadn't seen in a long time.    And I knew I couldn't comfort him and I also knew that while he knew it wasn't my fault, he didn't like me very much.  Because he knew I didn't feel what he felt.

Bob and Grace decided to take a walk and look for them one last time.  Then Grace saw a sign on a lamp post.  It said "Two white dogs found.  No tags".  So convinced were they that our dogs were gone forever, Grace's first thought was "How weird that someone else lost two white dogs too!"  And of course, the reality washed over them and I wasn't there but I can only imagine the relief.

It turns out they had been found hours ago.  Somehow their absence had escaped everyone.  Hard to believe.

But I am much relived as well.  Because while it is true - I have no deep affection for them, my husband does.  So I will be happy to put up with all I can't stand about them, and hold them dear besides.

Upgrades

Clean, neat, and no longer embarrassing

We bought this rental property with my 401K a couple of years ago and it has proven to be a good investment.  After having spent a lot of money for upgrades initially, we now find we have to replace the air-conditioning unit.  It's okay though because as with any investment, money needs to be spent for upkeep.  Unless, it appears, it happens to be the investment I live in.  The house can be falling down all around us and Bob will say "it's  fine."  So I am extremely jealous of my tenants because they have new carpets, new granite counter tops, new window coverings, new lighting fixtures, and now - new air-conditioning.

Bob hates spending money.  Hates. It.  We need a new couch.  Really.  The leather couch, after 13 years, has a hole in the cushion (thanks to my horrible dogs).  It needs to be replaced.  Ain't gonna happen.   When our dishwasher broke down he did dishes by hand rather than spend $700.00 on a replacement.  We finally got a new one when a friend updated her kitchen and gave us her old one.

On the other hand,  I do spend.  Within reason, I have never had a problem spending money on vacations or things that I want for the house.  But these days I am inclined to try to get by without if I can.  Still, with the air-conditioning going into the rental, I wanted a present too.

So yesterday, I got a call from the young man who is coming to stay with us for the summer while he completes an internship here in Southern California.  (We had a really good experience with our intern from France last year so we thought we'd do it again.)  But he called yesterday and said his mother was coming out with him for the first three days and would that be okay.  Weeeeeelllllll... suuuuure.  We do have another spare room.  But that room is a complete disaster having housed a messy daughter for many years.  It is the one room who's door is always shut.  So when I told Bob that our intern's mom was going to stay for three days, even he jumped into action.

Within ten minutes of the call we were in the car headed for Home Depot to buy carpet and paint.  And I have ordered bedding.  And new lamps.

He is painting as we speak.  And I am so happy I could cry.  We have a reasonable guest room.  One room in the house down, eleven to go.

Emailing With the Big Guy

To:  God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Dear God:

I was hoping you could spare a minute and just hear me out as I have a few issues that I am grappling with and and I was hoping you could give me some perspective.  Is this a good time?

Valri


To:  Valri@dumpinmypurse.com
From: God@Heaven.net
Subject: Gotta Minute?

Hi Valri:

Seriously?  "Is this a good time?"  I'm juggling a lot of balls at the moment.  Some pretty intense stuff going on these past couple of thousand years.   But honestly?  I'm pretty good at juggling so listening to you it isn't a problem.  Shoot.

Love,
God


To: God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject: Gotta Minute?


Thanks.  I didn't think it would be a problem but I didn't want to assume because everyone knows "whenever you assume..."


To Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From:  God@Heaven.net
Subject: "Gotta Minute?"

"...It makes and ass out of you, but never of Me."  Go on.


To:  God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Okay.  I'll dispense with my lame attempt at an ice-breaker.  I guess I'm just wondering, what's it all about anyway?  I mean, I'm looking down the very short road to another birthday, I can't believe how old I am and suddenly I am wondering, have I blown it?  Was there something I should have done, something I should have seen, something I missed along the way that was right in front of me that I didn't grab onto?


To: Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From God@Heaven.net
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

I thought you were going to ask me something hard.  The answer is - yes, you have blown it, yes there was something you should have done, yes there was something you should have seen, yes there was something you missed along the way that you didn't grab onto.  Anything else you need to sort out?


To: God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Seriously, God?  That's all you got?  I am really freaking out about all of this.  I look back at a life, here in my middle age and see such an average, milque toast story.  And I am ashamed of a lot of my behavior over the years, and such a lack of gratefulness.  I see years of time wasted in jobs I didn't like, that wore me down, just to pursue some kind of security that I thought I could own.  I abandoned the theatre - something that gave me great joy.  I gave more pursuit to personal comfort than I gave to my family.  We rarely even had dinner together.  I watched too much TV.  I read too little.  I didn't take risks.  I got fat.  I lost touch.  I gave more time to the wrong things and less time to you.   I feel so lost.


To:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From:  God@Heaven.net
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Hang on a minute.  BRB...

Okay, I'm back.  I had to get the Master Schedule.  I'm looking over your life right now and yes, it looks like you're due for another birthday.  Goods days.... bad days.... way off track over here.  A little closer there.  And yes.  Here you are.  Not all bad but yeah, a lot of wasted time, leaving you... right... here.  Yes, confused and discouraged.  And seeking answers.  Yup.  Looking for purpose and joy.  So what do you want to know?


To: God@Heaven.net
FROM: Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:   Gotta Minute?

God, with all due respect, what do you mean "what do I want to know?"  I need some counsel.  What heavenly and eternal words of wisdom can you impart that will change the trajectory of my life?


To:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From:  God@Heaven.net
Subject: Gotta Minute?

Okay.  Here it is.  You're not dead yet.

Love,
God


To: God@Heaven.com
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Uh... I'm not sure what to say to that.


To Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From: God@Heaven.net
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Really??  Did you expect the mountains to crack open and heavenly voices to sing you the answers to the universe?  It's simple, Valri.  And of course, as always, you can take it or leave it.

Thanks for checking in, though.  I invite you to do it more often.  I really love all you guys - more than you know - but y'all do make me laugh.  An eternity of entertainment.

XOXO
God

P.S.  I like your recent FB photo.  I've got it on the refrigerator.

My Own Fred Astair

When Bob and I were first talking about getting married, I had a fantasy of our future together.  My fantasy included three perfectly adjusted, beautiful daughters, happy family, and Bob tap dancing on the kitchen floor.

Well, in spite of me, I now have 4 beautiful, seemingly well adjust girls.  And I believe we all have some measure of happiness most of the time.

And Bob tap dances on the kitchen floor.  And the foyer floor.  And the carpet.

There is something so extraordinary about it.  I listen to the sounds his feet make and marvel.  I sometimes dream I can tap dance.  But he can.  And I so love it.  To me it is like magic.  How can you make your feet move like that?  It is such a joyful form of dance.

Some women dream of candles, wine, and flowers.  Some dream of music and sonnets.  I dream of syncopated rhythms and clicking beats on the floor boards.

I am never more in love with him as I am when he is dancing.

Bank Love

Recently banks seem to be going the extra mile to make us feel comfortable with them again (as if that will ever happen) by trying to be all neighborly.  Following the questionable strategy and success of WalMart, my bank has hired "greeters" for all of their local branches.

It is very weird to walk into the bank toward the teller line and be intercepted by a man in a suit who enthusiastically and somewhat desperately asks: "How are you today?"

"Who, me?  I'm fine".

But he is so earnest that you feel guilty if you don't engage.  Frankly my guilt cup is overflowing so okay,  I'll play.

"And how are you?"

Gratefully he replies, "Great, great.  Thank you so kindly for asking!"  Who says kindly in everyday language anymore? I mean, unless you are saying "would you kindly get out of my way??"  His conversation definitely smells of memorized script.  The kind corporations write to make sure their employees sound natural.  And they never do.  And this guy is really trying.  It's awkward so you hope this is the end of it.

But no.

"Would you like some coffee?"  I notice his stiff arm moves stiffly in the direction of a tray of coffee that has been set up for customers.

"No thank you", says I, "I'm fine".

"How about some water?"

"No I'm good", I say.  "But thanks anyway."

"We have some delicious cookies as well".

I feel like I'm at Costco.

"No really, I'm good.  I just need to make a deposit".

And then I'm off the hook because the next victim just walked in.

I watch this poor guy for the next few minutes.  He is dressed for business but acts as if he hadn't seen me since high school.  I don't greet my own family like this.  It is really awkward to know how to be with my bank greeter.  You don't want to be rude but...  You know what it's like?  It's like when you're at the theatre and the actors come off the stage and pick you out of the audience to interact with.  You have to smile and look like you enjoy the unexpected encounter but you're really thinking "if I wanted to be a part of this play I would have auditioned for it".

I don't need my bank to treat me like a person they'd like to throw a party for.  I don't need coffee or cookies at the bank.  Or water.  I don't need a bank buddy.  I need to make a transaction that I can't do at the ATM outside.

But then it occurs to me that this new "greeter" position at the bank is a post-economic-meltdown created job.  And they are probably judging his performance by how many pots of coffee they need to make during the day.  I do not want to see this young man unemployed.  If a better, less annoying job could have been had, he would have taken it.

And so, I grab a cup of lukewarm coffee and a boring cookie on my way out.  And thank him.  Kindly.

A Haiku (sort of)

new exercise equipment

sits in a corner where dust settles

and my dog
leaves his mark

bob brought cheesecake

Okay - it's not 5-7-5 but I'm a beginner.

It Happens to the Best of Us

I have this friend.  She is younger than me - but again, that isn't so hard to be these days.  Still, she is of a certain age.  She's not a "cougar", but she looks fabulous and she looks young enough to be her daughter's sister rather than her mother.  She takes great care of herself, has good genes, and is just beautiful.  Period.

But today...

Today I saw her at the market - sans makeup and hair and I have to tell you.  She totally looked her age.  

I have never considered myself a petty person, but the sight of her at the check out warmed my heart.  I'm in excellent company.

Stormy Weather

Hmmmm.  Life is funny.  Or not.

So much of what I would typically put down on paper as been obscured of late because of work.  I think all of us have this idea about how our "life plan" is going to work out.  For people my age, we've been driving toward the end zone, navigating the bumps and pitfalls but hopefully, keeping within the width of the road.  However, the epic fail of the economy in 2008 and 2009 threw so many of our plans to the wind that we have had to claw our way back to the road, sweep up the debris, and try to get the car started again.  Even if it only has three wheels left.

I was fortunate.  The crash cost us my well paying job and our savings but in the end, we were blessed (genuinely) with what was happening in Bob's career at the time.

In total, between a job with an ill-fated magazine, I spent two years unemployed before landing at my current position.  And I thought to myself, this is it.  I will be here until retirement.  And my current position, while paying far less than anything I have made in a long while, suits me fine.  The operative word, apparently, being me.

The industry I am currently in is in crisis.  Government funding that sustains it is severely cut and so our little company is evolving.  But it does not have the luxury of a normal evolutionary process - it must take place a warp speed.  I liken it to having to turn an ocean liner 180 degrees on a dime.  And so, everything, and everyone is under the glass.  And this scrutiny adds additional weight to an already stressful situation.  Still, I am grateful for work, and I like the product that I sell.  It is important and it adds value to the industry.

Recently however, I was given, completely out of the blue and with no warning whatsoever, a written warning.  It was the first time I had ever experienced such a thing in my life.  I have sat on the other side of the desk before.  I know the seriousness of such a thing, now in my employee file.  The charges confused me.  They were three one-time incidences that were, at least in my mind, minor and forgettable - certainly not notable.  But here they were - in writing - and I was devastated.  Apart from the blot on my record and the feeling that I am being squeezed out, my feelings were hurt.  Really hurt. I couldn't help but feel "why are they doing this to me?"

So here is what I have learned.  The workplace can be a war zone.  There is no room for feelings on the job.  

In all of this employment turmoil since being laid off from Disney four years ago, I am finally beginning to really understand something about being employed that I believe everyone needs to learn in order to survive unscathed.  We spend so much of our lives in our work that we often define ourselves by what we do.  The is our first mistake,  The second mistake we make - and a much graver one than the first - is believing in what our employers think of us.  Whether wildly successful or just clinging on, we are not who they think we are and we are certainly not who they say we are.  That is not to say that proactive reaction to what they say is not necessary.  It is.  If we want to keep our jobs, we must address what our bosses tell us to address - even if we don't understand or agree.  But to keep grounded during such a time we have to hang on to what is actually true - that being that who we really, truly are can be found in God.  Alone.  And with that unwavering knowledge fueling us we can stay on course, regardless of the storm.

So it appears dark clouds are looming.  I have no idea what is next.  I am working my tail off to do a superlative job, but who knows what decisions have already been made, and for what reasons - regardless of my efforts.  It feels weird.  It is weird.  But as I heard in church this past week, we must be content with much or with little.  God is enough, whatever comes.  That is a promise.

He has not let me down.  Not once.