In quiet acknowledgment of today and the massive and painful significance of it, I’m hosting a giveaway. Leave a comment, any comment – silly, happy, thoughtful, or wiseass (we love wiseass! Or, even better, wiseacre!) – and you’ll be entered to win one of the following prizes:
An Eccolo leather journal from my favorite drool-worthy store, Ninth Moon.
A DVD of Oscar winning film Once, whose co-creator Glen Hansard was the source of the “Make Art, Make Art,” quote in the title.
A DVD of Bitchery favorite Strictly Ballroom because dancing is HAWT, yo.
Why the prize fiesta? Because we are alive and creating, and for that I am blissfully thankful.
Today is my fourth wedding anniversary. We chose the date on purpose, for two reasons. One, because we weren’t going to let some crazy-ass man on dialysis dictate how and when to live our lives.
The second reason? Um, the hall was free that day.
‘Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Tonto disguised as a toilet seat was getting more ass than anybody!’
Okay – you’re probably scratching your head right now thinking, “What is in that girl’s coffee?” But, in the middle of a quiet night when all was silent, still, and a bit sad, my friend turned to me with a manic gleam in his eye and said fiercely, “Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Tonto disguised as a toilet seat was getting more ass than anybody!”
For some reason, the utter randomness and silliness of it made me laugh so hard that I snorted. It might not make any of you laugh, but I swear that it makes me smile every time I think of it.
Anyone else have a goofy “maybe you needed to be there” moment that makes you smile?
That day’s events has been dealt with in millions of ways by millions of people, I can say the clarity I gained that day lingers on.
On that 9/11 in 2001, my kids were in school less than a mile away from me. It was too far. I shook off everyones argument that I was over reacting and went and picked them up. Nothing was more important than having them with ME . As I drove to get them I knew people were still dying, mothers and fathers who would never do something so ordinary as go pick their kids up from school again were DYING at that moment. It was surreal. I can still remember how I felt inside and how relieved and healed I was as they walked towards me in the school hallway . The world was changing at that moment but that reassurance that we were OK was indescribable.
I am going to write.
I am going to love.
My 6am yoga practice was lead by the theme of loving and gratitude. Be grateful for the moments we are given, learn to breathe and find joy in those moments, and look for love in every aspect of life. It was a beautiful way to start the morning.
On the morning show on the radio today, the hosts said that they knew there would be a lot of talk about 9/11 everywhere today, so they’d decided they were going to just play good music and talk about good things that had happened on previous September 11ths. It was kind of nice to have that break from all the seriousness.
I’m also grateful to have woken up this morning and I’ll be grateful when I go to sleep for a simply uneventful day. I’ll feel the same tomorrow… the 7 year anniversary of a car accident that has changed my life forever. Some days I think for the better; when I’m in pain, for the worst.
So today I’m going to spend my time with my bestest friend and tomorrow I’m going to indulge and push myself to write better than I have a while.
… in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—
we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—
this ground. The brave men, living and dead,
who struggled here, have consecrated it,
far above our poor power to add or detract.
President Abraham Lincoln
Gettysburg,
Nov. 19, 1863
Thank you for reminding me. I lose track of dates and it wasn’t until this post that I even looked at the date.
When I was 19 I lived a bit like a nomad, moving from friend to friend to relative’s homes. Come Cinco de Mayo of that year I was living with a friend who’s home was right by the parade route and we spent the morning making our fun plans for the day. I recall that I was really happy and excited about the day to come. Then my sister called and I knew right way that she was upset, you could hear the tears in her voice. I thought she’s had another fight her her live-in boyfriend/baby daddy and so was not prepared for her to tell me that my 3 year-old cousin, Georgie, was dead. He was the first person that I was close to who died. I remember that the first word out of my mouth was no … no, no, no, no, no. A freak accident at some diy store. A slew of sheet rock falls out of a cart and in an instant he’s gone. I walked down the street looking at strangers and wondering how the world could be going on like it was every other day when it wasn’t.
On September 11th, that day, I had kid shows going on cable for my son while I made breakfast. My husband called me and asked me if I was watching the news. I could hear in his voice that something big and bad had happened or was happening, so I turned it to local channels and saw what was happening. I remember thinking “No, this can’t really be happening. I’m not awake. This is just a bad nightmare and I’ll wake up and everything will be fine!”. When my husband came home later we went out because I couldn’t turn off the tv, but I couldn’t watch it anymore. The whole world looked different to me that day. It seemed to me that the colors were all muted like on a matte photograph, but at the same time everything looked sharper. The sun seemed painfully bright and I thought that the world would never feel the same again. When I woke the next morning I hoped for a moment that it really had all been a nightmare.
My son, who was a year and a half old at the time, learned how to say firefighter that day and, instead of being happy that my son had learned to say a new word, it broke my heart.
To which, the natural answer is, “An American or a European Harlequin?â€
I’ve been up for hours and had gallons of coffee and my default setting is “Wiseass,†so….
In keeping with the “Make love not war†theme, I’ve spent most of the morning, and most of yesterday actually, trying to learn how to write sex scenes. I’ve never written one before and since the first love scene in my WIP is fast approaching (I nearly said ‘coming quickly,’ but what fun is that?), I figured I’d best learn a little something first.
One thing I learned while reading a few writer’s sites yesterday, is that the fact that I have virtually no “blush factor†should make things easier. Seriously, I don’t care who knows what I write or what they infer from it. I’m not worried about writing sex, I’m worried about writing it poorly.
Yesterday, I grabbed a pack of Post-Its and headed for my keeper bookshelf. I spent the afternoon flipping through to the sex scenes, studying, taking notes, trying to figure out what worked and why. When Hubby got home from work, he sat down next to my desk with a beer, grabbed a book from the pile on the table next to him, flipped to where the Post-Its were sticking out, realized I had marked all the hot scenes, looked at all the other books sitting around with markers sticking out of them and said, “Uh… whatcha doin’?†his voice about an octave higher than usual. I swear the man had a hunted look in his eye. (Hmmm, nope, still not blushing.)
So, analyzing sex scenes… kind of an odd way to spend a 9/11 anniversary. Really, it’s an odd way to spend any day. ‘Analyze’ and ‘sex,’ two words that, in a perfect world, would never appear in the same sentence. Okay, I guess there is a time and a place for analyzing sex. Of course, most people just call it “watching.â€
(And still not blushing… hopefully there was a laugh or two in there somewhere.)
Never forget.
Amen.
Sarah, thanks for doing something so positive today.
My ass is an acre, but it is also wise!
One word that cracks me up without fail? Well, it’s two: “Poodly Cheese!”
LMAO! Yeah, that definitely made me laugh!
I can’t remember of course what in the heck my husband and I were talking about the other night, but eventually it dissolved into silliness as our convos so often do. I said something that cracked him up and that’s one of many things I love about him. He thinks I rock my imaginary comedian mic.
Involuntary, spontaneous humor is the best kind.
A fireman giving a cat mouth-to-mouth:
http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/?rn=3906861&cl=9679040&ch=4226726&src=news
Also: fireman+cat saving=hot.
Woke up this morning to a soft, steady rain. It seemed just right for today.
I drove to work today with the radio off. Just quietly reflected about the blessings in my life. I am thankful.
I have an Ethics class to go to today… a lot of the time I get impatient with the endless details of the philosophical approach to ethics, but today makes me think we’d all be better off if ethics formed a greater part of our thought.
…but then, I’m sure the terrorists think they’re plenty ethical, so maybe not.
I am grateful that I Googled butternut squash and found there was a much easier way to peel it that didn’t result in me headed to the ER with a chopped off finger. And I am grateful only ONE of the kids hated the resultant squash dish.
The mental health calendar that hangs on my refrigerator has this activity for today:
Do something you’ve always wanted to do.
It’s unnerving how apropos that thing can be some days. Me, I’m going to make not so much a joyful but a grateful noise.
I was on my way to my graduate class (which was meeting at the library) and by the time we got there, the librarians were in chaos-mode, running the news on the intra-library channel (which was supposed to have how-tos) and trying to find out if the school was closing for the day.
I called my dad and we took turns calling our cousin (we were the only ones in the fam with cells at that time), who worked in Manhattan and whose husband took the subway through the WTC to work. My roommate and I kept watching the news. We wanted to turn it off, but couldn’t somehow. Sometime around 9pm, my dad called, “Aunt M called. M got through to her. She’s fine. G didn’t go to work today, because he’s sick.”
I remember the Challenger, I remember OKC, and I remember 9/11.
“I believe in the sun,
even when it is not shining.
I believe in love,
even when I don’t feel it.
I believe in God,
even when there is silence.”
-Words found on the walls of a cellar in Cologne, Germany, written by a Jew in hiding.
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” I’ve got that freaking tattooed on my arm. I will never regret enlisting in the Army National Guard because of 9/11. But please, US citizens, register to vote. And then vote on November 4.
The Hot Ass Story … to lighten up my mood.
I’ll preface the story by stating that my eldest son, Lucas, is mildly autistic and one of his things is that he has kind of a literal view of the world. My younger son, Jared, also puts his two cents in.
While at in the grocery store check-out line my son notices that a young blond woman in front of us is wearing sweat pants with the word HOT across the seat. I mention that she’s blond because my son, who is 7 at the time of this incident, has tended to crush on blonds from the time he was an infant.
Lucas: Dad, why is her butt hot?
Dad: Shh!
Lucas: Excuse me, why is your butt hot?
Blond: (blushing) Umm, it just says that.
(cashier tries not to laugh)
Lucas: Maybe the pants are making your butt hot.
(cashier snickers)
Jared: (loudly) Lucas, leave her alone. She can’t help it if her butt is hot!
(Blond finishes checking out and starts to leave)
Lucas: (yells) Bye! Get home right away and take off those pants so your butt won’t be so hot!
(Blond turns bright red and cashier about about dies laughing)
I share this with y’all because I just got off the phone with my husband and told me I sounded depressed.
What I remember most is how we gathered together, as families and friends and as a nation, and for a short time the differences between us were not as important as what made us the same, striving for the same sorts of human goals to make a difference, be good to each other, love our children, and care for our country and our planet.
It makes me wish we could get that feeling even when we aren’t in times of crisis. Especially now, when everything feels so divisive. What was it that guy sang? Imagine all the people, living life in peace…
Yesterday, I celebrated in my 42nd birthday with an unfortunately timed doctor’s appointment for one thing that turned into a “Well, since you’re here, it’s about time for your annual anyway, so….” (Because nothing says, “Happy Birthday!” like that, eh?) This was followed up with “Might as well head over to the lab and have them do your blood work, too!” The VA takes very good care of me, I have to admit. Yearly physicals, yearly blood tests for cholesterol, yearly mammograms, etc. But on my birthday???
Then I went to work where I got to do medical supply inventory and get yelled at by one of our patients (I work in a psychiatric facility).
It was all capped by a honestly fun and tasty Italian dinner with my husband and some friends in a place that used to be a church in the 1800’s. It’s a beautiful space and they still have all that lovely stained glass everywhere. I don’t even mind that one of my two gifts was a package of girly scented soaps that I can’t use because I’m allergic to most perfumes.
Speaking of gifts, my husband’s gift is in shipping purgatory somewhere. My eldest son “bought me a card but forgot to mail it” (but he did remember to call!). My daughter called when I wasn’t home and I couldn’t get in touch with her afterwards. My youngest son apparently forgot completely as he neither called or emailed me.
And then there’s today. 9/11.
I should be sad, I guess. It was a kind of crappy birthday and today is the anniversary of the worst thing I can remember, after all. Strangely enough, though, I’m not sad or depressed or even kind of blue.
Money’s tight and gas prices suck and money I was expecting didn’t arrive. They’re passing stricter requirements to the dress code at work and who can afford a new wardrobe. Cost of living raises are cancelled, as are our annual bonuses. All of my kids have left home now that my youngest is in the Navy. A few years ago, with stressors like these AND a really crappy birthday AND turning 42 AND today’s anniversary, I would have been morose.
Instead, I’m in a place where I’m actually pretty damned happy. I’m fairly healthy. I quit smoking the Sunday before Thanksgiving and I’ve made it stick. My kids are all doing great, even if they are doing it in other states (Virginia, Florida, and California, in fact). I love my job and the people I work with. I married my best friend 2 years ago (literally—we’ve known each other since high school and we’ve always been the best of friends) and it’s the healthiest, happiest, absolutely best relationship I’ve ever had. My new haircut rocks.
Life is pretty damned good. Bad birthdays and crazy religious nuts be damned.
Madd, my 15 month old son learned to say “Boom!” that day. That’s when I knew it was time to turn off the TV. And I did. But, oh god, my heart broke.
I’m in graduate school, so my days are pretty much all spent studying. The only real difference is whether I have a class or not. However, today does have a very different feel because 9/11 is ultimately the reason that I decided to go back to school. My hope is that I can in some very small way help prevent it from ever happening again.
I hope that everyone is well today.
I LOVE IT. If yout told me that story to my face, I’d have to hug you.
I will do my best to enjoy being alive and creative today. Things have been annoying and crazy lately, and I’ve forgotten to be feel as grateful as I should just for being around. So I will take today to remember that.
“110 Stories” by John M. Ford:
http://nielsenhayden.com/110.html
Sadly, this year, I have a new appreciation for all of the young women who lost boyfriends, fiancees, and freshly minted husbands on 9/11. It is beyond awful to suddenly lose the man you love, but when you are young, and your life together was just beginning… My best to all of you. However well you anonymous women are or are not doing, you are my heroines.
I was grateful that someone had to remind me of the date. …this sounds terribly callous, but it’s true. In years past it seems there’s been such extreme build up to the day and that gives it the wrong kind of power.
So I raise a glass to healing that it seems we are finally doing. We may always remember exactly what we were doing (teaching about the femur), but we should let go of the outrage and fear that has since divided the US from the rest of the world.
Peace for the memory of those who are lost. …like the tree-memorial at the Boston airport. Life, renewal and harmony.
A little romance and love today for all of you on this day of national sorrow.
Two plus two equals Chicken!
Thanks, Brian Regan. Today I salute you and your oh so specific brand of goofy, high school humor. Your delivery, if not your jokes, always manage to make me laugh.
http://www.youtube.com/?v=cj9KUwSGKOs
This is the first year since ‘00 that I haven’t flown on this date (yes, I was in the air in ‘01 – and while my experiences were by no means the worst from that day, it is the level to which I hold all other bad travel stories). I don’t do it on purpose, it just usually works out that way.
I for one am glad to be on the ground.
…I’m not awake enough for wisecracks, but, y’know. I have a crappy body that hurts almost all of the time, I’m having problems dealing with my parents, and I’m struggling with bouts of feeling completely useless; but I’m still glad to be alive, and to be able to read (especially nummy brain candy type novels), and to have the freedom to leave the TV off so I don’t have to deal with the Stuff that always seems to accompany today. …besides, TV rots your brain, books are way better. 😀
I’ll give another YouTube link…
I like Bill Engvall. He’s sort of a comedic Everyman.
Days like this make me grateful for what I have— my friends, family, and a giant TBR pile.
Today I celebrate my life. And the life of my husband and son. Too do anything else would be to let terrorists win.
Sept 11th will always be a day that I am grateful to have my family with me because I will never forget the looks of despair on the faces of those who lost their loved ones that day. I will never forget how I held my husband as we watched those events unfold.
So let us celebrate everything that is right with life today!
Leila Brown
The day kind of snuck up on me, I heard that Alan Jackson song “Where Were You When The World Stopped Turning” for about the third time in two days yesterday and was midthought wondering why it was getting so much airtime and was like…oh, yeah.