dreams and visions

I've been having a series of very vivid dreams over the past few weeks.

It all started with a dream I had about having lunch with a very notable person. The specifics of the dream are not that important really, it's more that I could taste how amazing this food was in my dream. I remember thinking, "this is the most amazing tasting food I've ever had in my life." The conversation between my dinner guest and I was pleasant. I was sad that it ended.

The next dream was just a few days ago. I was with a friend in their home getting ready for a party of some sort. We were dressing up and getting ready for a wonderful evening. I remember at some point in the dream looking over at her collection of eye makeup and thinking, "my gosh, I've never seen such beautiful shades of purple." I was so amazed at how beautiful the colors sparkled and remained in my memory.

The last dream was early this morning. I wish I could remember who all was there. I know it was family members... Laura, Keith, my Dad. I don't think my Mom was there. We were all sitting around the living room chatting and having a good time when someone suggested we watch a home movie. I sat back as the movie was put in and before I knew it, we where watching a home movie about me. It was a movie someone had taken of me what I was maybe 5 or 6. All I remember about the story is that I was being interviewed for some reason and I just kept saying silly things. All of us that where watching this tape where laughing at how silly this little girls is. I remember thinking, "What a joy this little girl is. I can't believe that it's actually me." The other part of the dream that was so vivid was that while I was being interviewed I kept playing with this beautiful pink feather. I don't know... it was strange and wonderful at the same time.

I don't always know if our dreams are supposed to mean something. I'd like to think they do. I would like to think it is God's way of communicating with me while I'm in my most receiving state. Or maybe my dreams are just a product of the sushi I ate last night?

I wish to visit that little girl with the pink feather in my dreams again. She filled me with happiness and made me feel hopeful.

2 wrongs don't make a right, but 3 lefts do

What today made me realize that I truly am a poet, a writer? Why today and not any other day? Today I was in the presence of true poets; speaking and orating about the things of their heart. Letting words flow in rhythms that stirred me. One commented that she carried her notebook everywhere she goes and in an instant, I identified. I thought, "My notebook hasn't left my side since the day I bought it." While I sat in rapt attention I began to think about what I would want to say if the stage was mine. Words, emotions, dreams, and fears flooded my mind. I pictured how I would deliver my message and to whom. In one very small moment I knew that I had something to share.

"If you have ears to hear..."

Earlier in the day I sat at the intersection of 21st and Pacific Avenue waiting in the left lane to turn. I kind of let my mind go soft for a moment, blankly staring at the car before me. I listened to my turn signal sound in perfect rhythm, "click, click, click, click." I was watching the blinking light of the signal in front of me, "click, click, click, click." They were perfectly syncopated. I listened and watched, waiting for them to fall out of unison but they never did. This experience was my blue moon. We both turned the corner and I felt a sense of kinship with that car. For those brief few seconds, we were one.

I've been waiting to experience that moment in my own life; when things are clicking together in perfect unison; when you know that things are going to be okay and make sense. I've been waiting for that euphoric sense of satisfaction when the longings of my heart are made known and fulfilled.

Tonight, right now as I type, there still is no unison. Something is just a little bit off in one area or another. I have faith for it, I know it will happen because, "He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it."

But until then I will keep my notebook close and I will write.

As plain as the face on my nose

Am I right? We all knew the face of the lunch lady who dutifully served warm nutritious meals day after day that fueled our young minds to learn, grow, and be all that we could be.

Yeah right, who am I kidding? She was the keeper of pizza and chocolate milk on Fridays, the Turkey gravy with mashed potatoes on Tuesday, and if you forgot lunch money, she had the emergency lunch that consisted of a peanut butter sandwich and a carton of plain milk. Do you remember those yummy chocolate cookie type things you sometimes got called fudge gems? Those were the best!

To me eating a school lunch wasn't a sign of my mom's neglect to pack a lunch. School lunch was always a special treat. I always felt so smug and superior as I was eating my fish and fries while the others at my table had a cold sandwich and some carrots.

Every year when I sit down to an amazing Thanksgiving dinner my mind always wanders back to those hard plastic trays with the compartments that kept your corn from touching your gingersnap cookie; your apples slices and milk happily segregated. As I mix my turkey and gravy, stuffing and corn together and put it on top of my mashed potatoes, I remember how that first bite tasted while I was sitting at the awkward lunch tables. So creamy and delicious!

All of this leads me to think about when I might host the family Thanksgiving meal at my house. It's a great responsibility to host such an important event. It requires planning ahead, purchasing the best food, and preparing your home. My mom always seems to do it with such grace. Sure, there have been the rare occasions that something goes awry and frazzles her nerves, but by-and-large she can pull of a meal of epic proportions without even breaking a sweat.

Me? I'm not sure I could do the same.

But my point is this: every part of the meal had to be planned for. This big, beautiful, delicious meal doesn't just happen to fall onto the table from no where, no. You purchase special ingredient, take extra time, use a secret family recipe, bring out Grandma's china plates. Cooking the meal itself takes hours upon hours to get everything just right. Why do we go to such trouble? Because it's special, it's significant, it will be a time when family memories are made and passed down.

And then it hit me; right there in front of me. That is what this season of my life is. It's a time of preparation, of planning, of gathering just the right ingredients and mixing them in the proper way. Of setting the oven to the right temperature, and using the special table linens. If my life is going to be the delicious, memorable meal I want it to be, it's going to take time to get everything just right. And only after all of the hard work has been done will the guests arrive and take their place at my table all the while making memories that will be passed down.

Kevlar

Trust is a funny thing.

I've always said that I'm not good at playing games. Whether it's sports, cards, or board games, I always find myself in a frenzy to win. Some games I am good at, rummy and poker. Other games I struggle to put points on the board, chess and volleyball. Win or lose, the cost is always small. Pride, a small monetary wager, a temporary title of victor. These are manageable and often don't cost the player much. There are rules to follow when playing any game and it can be promised that if all players adhere to these rules there will be a winner. The winner might not be you, but someone will come out victorious.

I've always wanted to be a better guitar player than I am. I really do want to but I am unwilling to practice. Why? Because it makes my fingers hurt, I cringe at the sound of notes and chords that are out of place. The pain of practicing keeps me from pursuing what I want. Maybe I am weak willed. But what is the worst thing that could happen? I would be in my house making a fool of myself and that would be it. No one would have to hear it, just me and my own frustration. It would be a small price to pay, right?

And then it comes to playing the game of love. It is a game, after all. You have to say the right things at the right times lest you appear needy or desperate. You always must look your best to keep the eye of the other. And even though the rules are vast and confusing, adhering to them doesn't necessarily guarantee you (or the other player) victory. But we still play. We lay it all out on the line. Our most precious wager is our heart.

And then, for a time, it becomes a time of either bluffing or believing.

If you've ever played cards with me, you know that I'm not good at bluffing. As soon as I've got a good hand, it's all over my face. I get a little smirk on my face and my eyes twinkle. I'm so easy to read.

I can't read your face. I don't know if you are bluffing.


I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff... everything could change. I could plunge to my death or the wind could pick me up and I could soar.

synonym

today my heart is full
it's a strange and
wonderful feeling
i am slow to attribute it
to a four letter
word

somehow someway it all
aligned
though i can't predict my
future
i can hope for it
and dream

the verse and chorus
have been written
a bridge to cross
to the other side
and now the crescendo
the build up
swelling music
a swelling heart
a rhythm and beat

the volume grows
the intensity
a quickening pulse

it has all been
leading
up to this

my song in all
of it's beauty
glory
splendor
passion
brilliance

i am because
you
are

Please read all instructions before attempting to operate machinery

I'm not even ashamed to admit that I signed up for eHarmony a few days ago. After I met with my doctor she gave me some practical advice on a few areas of my life that I might want to pay attention to. One of those areas was companionship. Maybe most of you that know me wouldn't think that I *need* a companion and, well mostly I would agree with you. I mostly am comfortable with my own company and often I don't feel the need for someone to entertain me. She said it didn't necessarily have to be a romantic relationship and that I didn't necessarily have to find companionship in a person. Meaning, a pet of some sort. I've been thinking on it for a few days and I think I just might agree with her.

There is something about having a living, breathing, person (or sometimes a pet) by your side when you are trying to shoulder life's burdens. It may not mean there are many words spoken or a portion of your burden is being carried by another. There is just something about having that support.

And for those of us who have a faith and belief in God, this need can sometimes be confusing. I've been told things like, "Jesus is closer than a brother." and that God will "never leave you or forsake you." And I believe those things with my whole heart, honestly, I do. But what about those nights when the sun has set on your emotions and things are looking bleak? When it would mean the world just to have someone to just hold your hand? These are the times when I struggle with my faith in God. Not because I cease to believe in His exhistence, but because sometimes I just need God to have some skin on. If there isn't a person who plays that role in my life, I need that role to be filled by God. But He already came to earth and dwelt among us once... and well, we weren't very nice.

So the lonelyness sometimes takes up residence. When it would come knocking on my door, I typically found myself swinging the door wide open and inviting that lonelyness to stay for a while and maybe have a cup of tea.

Oh but yesterday... I decided instead of welcoming and unwelcomed visitor that I would be pro-active and take a step. This is where eHarmony came in. I found plenty of reasons why not to sign up but none of those reasons stuck.

And I took a really long questionnaire with lots of questions that made me think very honestly about my real self... And yes, one of the by-products of going through all of this trouble is the possibility of finding some type of match for my personality. If it happens, that'll be nice. If it doesn't, I know I did my part and the rest is up to God.

But the BEST part about all of this... oh I love this stuff SO much... I got a 5 page personality report! Here it is, it's a little bit long so read it if you dare! I totally love this stuff. I eat it up like... well, like something really delicious...

A General Description of How You Interact with Others (Agreeableness)

"What can I do for you?" These words probably feel very natural to you. More than most people, you are genuinely interested in the well-being of others. If they are in trouble, you offer compassion and go out of your way to be helpful. If they need someone who will listen, you are attentive, trustworthy and sympathetic. And you are direct with them; when they need advice or counsel, you offer it in as straightforward and direct a manner as you can.

There may even be times when you put others' needs in front of your own. And you do so without the expectation of some reward or recognition. Yours is a different kind of compassion; you are genuinely tenderhearted and take pleasure in helping others while expecting little or nothing in return. For you, it's not tit-for-tat, you truly want to do things for others that will better their lives. You mean it when you ask, "What can I do for you?"

A General Description of How You Interact with Others

Lucky you! You enjoy your own company as much as you enjoy the company of others. You are a great conversationalist and thrive in the wonderful kinds of connections you know how to have with your family and friends. You also equally enjoy your own company, whether sitting in a favorite chair with your book and soft music playing or meandering in the woods by yourself. You like coming home to your family or your roommate; but if no one is home, you find quiet, solitary time to be just as pleasurable. What a great combination to enjoy being outgoing and to be just as comfortable being reserved. Lucky you!!

Because you are so amiable and relaxed, you are comfortable with almost any group of family or friends. Whether they are pumped up and lively or calm and subdued, you remain at ease. If someone needs to take over the conversation, you are comfortable taking the lead; you can also lay back and let someone else be in charge. If the conversation gets rowdy, your moderate demeanor will often draw it down to a more temperate level. If someone in the group loses their cool, you will most likely maintain your poise, and if they get nasty you know how to keep a civil tongue.

You may find yourself out of balance on occasion. If you're alone too much, you may need to get in touch with someone. If you spend too much time with your family and friends, you may need to sneak off for a day by yourself, to putter and read and clear your head of the noise of too much conversation. When you're at your best, you live with a rhythm of time with others, time alone, time with others, time alone It's a satisfying, comfortable balance. Lucky you!

A General Description of How You Approach New Information and Experiences (Openness)

You think like an artist. Or better, you SEE like an artist. While most people look at life's straight lines, its height and depth and width, you're bending the lines with your imagination and turning black and white into shades of blue and yellow. And in conversations at work or with your friends you want to ask, "Do you see what I see?" A few might, most don't, but you've piqued everyone's curiosity with your own original and inventive ways of thinking.

You can, if you must, think in conventional ways. But left on your own, you'll usually opt for the eccentric or avant-garde; in fact you're usually bored with what everyone else is comfortable with. You learn from reading, talking, watching people and other fauna and flora, and simply sitting in the soft chair of your mind and wondering how people would learn how to count if they could only use uneven numbers. You are out in front of conventional ideas, bravely originally defining true and false, right and wrong, the good, the bad and the ugly.

A General Description of Your Reactivity (Emotional Stability)

In some ways, you've got the best of emotional worlds. When emotions rise up from inside you or are brought forth from a conversation by a friend, you know how to engage them. You deal with sadness, fear, joy, anger - whatever comes up - in ways that are perceptive and flexible. You can adapt to whatever level of emotion is appropriate to the moment. At other times, you are able to cope with your emotions in a more reserved manner. Because you are aware of what does and does not make emotional sense in a particular situation, you will decide when it is an appropriate time to express your emotions and when it would be best to keep them to yourself.

All of this gives you a rich emotional life. You are free to express your passions about certain subjects with appropriate people. But you are also emotionally adaptable; if the conversation needs to be more cerebral, you'll keep it "in your head" and talk calmly through whatever issue is on the table. This emotional awareness serves you well. You seldom get in over your head, either by opening up to the wrong person or by triggering in someone else's emotions they may not be able to deal with.

And last but not least...

A General Description of How You Interact with Others (Conscientiousness)

When there's a job to be done, like most people you want to know what the goal is and when it's to be completed. For you, that's a start. Next you want to know what the plan is to get to the goal. So you lay out a plan, or at least the major points of a plan: "Organize the kitchen sometime this spring" or "Get the project at work done as soon as possible." You don't need an in-depth specification of every little detail; in fact you prefer not to work that way. You lay out your goals, develop a general plan, and then you get things done.

You believe in intuition as well as organization. As such, you trust impulses as much as strategies and you value spontaneity as much as you do efficiency. In a word, you like to keep it flexible. When you set out to accomplish a task, you prefer to have some room to maneuver. Like an artist, you find that the best way to reach a goal is not always in a straight line. Some of the most productive times for you are the unplanned moments of inspiration and creativity that just come to you. While you do keep to a general plan, those times of pure vision and originality are what really drive you.

Some of the people who rely completely on an organized approach to getting things done may be surprised at your efficiency. But there is a definite method to your approach. With a creative flair that others may not have anticipated, the original plan gets met and there are often a few extra

accomplishments along the way. Your comfort zone starts with a task and a plan but it also requires the freedom to be able to go with your instincts and impulses so that you can not just accomplish the task, you also have the option to explore something brand new along the way.

(untitled)

and i just can't seem to rectify
in my mind
what i did that was so wrong

my arms wrapped around you
and i buried
my face into your neck

i love you

but you didn't say it back
your silence
like venom in my heart

and it paralyzed me

for 33 years you have been sitting
unable to move
freely your limbs, freely your heart

i can't be mad at you for
the state you're in
it's apathy and it's consumed you

but what happened? you just stopped trying. at some point it didn't matter anymore. you accepted the cards dealt you. why didn't you fight for me? why didn't you fight for us?

i can't be mad at you.

but i am mad at you.

i needed you. we needed you. i still need you. you just stopped fighting and drank it all away. you washed it all down with a venom that paralyzed you.

i'm sitting here in this chair, my emotions paralyzed. hot tears, cold feet.

i feel regret. things left unsaid. words spoken harshly.

but the difference between you and i, the difference is that i am fighting. fighting for my life and yours.

i am fighting for the one
that will bury their head
in my neck and tell me
they love me

i was given as a gift to you but i just don't know that you saw it that way.

G4 B4 my time is up

Access to the internet has become a luxury in my world.  In these few, sweet moments of wireless connection I thought it be best to pen some thoughts.  You may partake if you'd like, in list form.

1.  I am understanding boundaries more and more.  I grew up on five acres and we had an electric fence that kept our animals in and intruders out.  We shared this fence with neighbors who also wanted to keep property lines drawn.  The neighborhood kids would come over to our house to play and inevitably we would find a variety of ways to amuse ourselves.  One of these ways was ripping up ferns and foliage from the ground and draping it over the electric fence to see what would happen.  Often we would come back the next morning to find our collection of greenery shriveled up and brown in color.  We probably did this five or six times until the neighbor came over and so kindly asked us to please stop because we were causing the fence to short out which caused his animals to get loose.  Oops.

I just recently realized that I have very few personal boundaries.  This has caused a multitude "problems" that I wasn't even aware of...  I've been throwing foliage over my electric fence (and the fence of others.) causing it to short out and go haywire.  To my friends who do have good personal boundaries, thank you.  I am looking to you for examples of appropriate living...

2.  I am so grateful for mercy.  I don't understand it, I can't always accept it, but thank God for it.  Mercy is not my gift... 

3.  I am longing for springtime love.  I know it sounds silly but it's true.  I think I am getting brave enough to start looking/asking for what I want.

Short and sweet today.  Battery power is running low...  must maximize remaining time on the internet.

20/20 vision (I don't care if you call me 4 eyes)

I've had glasses since 3rd grade. I remember the day I got them as clear as a bell. It was third grade (which probably meant I was 9.) and I was in Mrs. Carel's class. I loved Mrs. Carel. She was young and cool, tall and pretty, athletic and outgoing. She had a laugh that filled up the room and a smile to follow. Everyone wanted her for a teacher. She did such fun things in the class room. It was more like being in an amusement park instead of school. We practiced spelling words in shaving cream on our desks and I think we even used chocolate pudding once... That was amazing.

Anyway, the day I got my glasses...

My appointment was first thing in the morning which meant I was going to be tardy to school. I hated being tardy for any reason. If I was ever tardy I would always come to class having this odd feeling that something great happened minutes before I got there and I missed out on it and all of the kids wouldn't tell me what it was so I was left out. (Sometimes I still feel that way.) It was a terrible feeling.

So I already knew it was going to be a bad day simply because I was tardy. But today, I had the added pressure of my new glasses. This was the kiss of death. It was a long walk to the class room with the slip from the secretary in the office with my excuse. The closer I got to the door, the more the anxiety grew. These things on my face were uncomfortable. They kept slipping down and pinching my nose.

My plan was to get in the classroom as fast as I could and slip into my desk and hopefully not be noticed. I opened the door as quietly as I could, ditched my book bag and coat, and slithered into my desk and put my head down. (Almost as if I was being punished.) As far as I could tell, my plan worked perfectly. I sat there in silence with my face burrowed into my elbow, breathing as quietly as possible. I was victorious! (or so I thought) After what felt like an eternity I picked up my head and looked around to see if anyone saw me come in. My glasses were fogged from my hot breath! Blasted! I could see very little but what I did see was her; she was standing at the front of my desk, hovering, waiting. As I looked up, through my foggy lenses, I saw her big bright smile. I don't know why but immediately I burst into tears and buried my face again. She was so sweet.

She bent down beside me, rubbed my head and whispered, "You look beautiful!"

I cleared the snot from my nose, wiped the tears off my face and looked at her again. "Really?" I whispered.

"Really." She replied. She went on, "Class, Julie has something very special to share with us today. Today, she got her first pair of glasses."

I was mortified but she urged me to stand and show everyone. So I did. With Mrs. Carel standing beside me I could face my peers and show them how beautiful I looked with my new glasses. After all, she said herself that I was beautiful and that meant the world to me. I loved my glasses from then on. (Which only lasted until I was 11. From then on it was contact lenses.) And to my recollection I don't know that anyone ever called me four eyes. I don't know that it never happened but I think because of Mrs. Carel's reassurance of my beauty that day, I never even noticed any insults from my peers.

And today I wanted to face another childhood memory head on; swimming in a public pool in a bathing suit. To any fat child this is hell, drenched in water. Oh the agony of having to strip down and put on a bathing suit that showed ALL of your lumps and bumps! And then have all of your peers get to see you and possibly mock and make fun of you? It makes me want to puke just thinking about it! And in my school district every child had to do it, period end of story.

So this morning I woke up and wondered, "what should I do today?" and after a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee it came to me clear as day, today I was going to swim.

When I was young I LOVED to swim but only felt completely free to do it at my own home or at a trusted friend's house. I was so excited when we had a pool put in our back yard. If I remember right that was the summer going into sixth grade and I wanted to have all of my friends over for a pool party to celebrate on the last day of school. It was the funnest day I can remember. I spent the entire summer in that pool with my sister or the neighborhood kids. Honestly, I don't think there wasn't a day that I wasn't in that pool. I felt at home in the water. When I was in there, I was weightless and graceful. I could do hand stands underwater (Lord knows that would never happen on the ground.), make up beautiful ballet moves, and float on my back with all the sounds around me canceled out. It was peaceful, and my place to escape.

Through life circumstances we moved out of the house with the pool. My days of swimming freely, at home, where over.

As I got older the, more I started to hate my body. By the time I was 13, the idea of getting in a bathing suit was a joke. I laughed when my friends would suggest a birthday party at the city pool, as if I was too cool for that. Secretly, I longed to be weightless and graceful again. Once or twice I might have put on a pair of shorts and tank top and slip into some water somewhere. It was never the same though. I hated the fact that I was fat: the grace and weightlessness where gone.

But today was a day to reclaim that love and dream of mine. I announced my intentions on the Internet as a safety net so I couldn't talk myself out of it. I checked the schedule at the YMCA and then was off to buy a suit to swim in.

When I got to the locker room at the Y and smelled the chlorine, the terror set in. As I looked around I saw all kinds of bodies of varying shapes, sizes, and colors. Some where old and flabby, and others where young and taut. I didn't dare stare because I didn't want anyone else to possibly feel insecure by my looking at them. I decided to keep my eyes to the floor. While changing into my suit was a lot of positive self talking and very little looking at myself in the mirror. I didn't want to see what I was sure everyone else could and did see, my round squishy body with lumps and bumps for all to see.

The plan was to leave my contacts in and wear goggles but man, those things hurt my face! They suctioned to me and didn't want to let go. No goggles. They had to go. So the contacts came out which meant everything from there on out was going to be a big blur. I wasn't too excited about that but I didn't want to turn back now.

Bathing suit on, contacts out, hair in a pony tail, towel covering me up. Deep breaths. I was ready for this. However, I didn't anticipate that I was going to have to drop my towel pool side and slither into the water. That was the hardest thing I had to do. But I did it. And the only way I did it was because I couldn't see if the other swimmers in the water were watching or not. There were just too fuzzy. I could sort of tell if their head was turned in my general direction but I had no idea what their eyes were on. The only person I knew was looking at me was the lifeguard. I can't blame her, it's her job to make sure we are safe.

It was like heaven. I swam for over an hour. Breast stroke, back stroke, butterfly... it all came right back to me. I did underwater handstands, kicked and moved my body in ways that I had long since forgotten. I was weightless and graceful again.

As I was changing in the locker room I decided that people are not watching me as closely as I think they are. Mostly when they look they aren't seeing me with 20/20 vision of judgement like I assumed. Everyone is too busy wrapping themselves in a towel, hoping their lumps and bumps won't be seen by the rest of us. So I stepped back from the mirror, still with no contacts, and looked at the girl with the squishy body. I think I finally got it. I was the only one looking at myself with 20/20 vision of judgement and criticism, shame and disgust.

And in that moment tears came. Not tears of sorrow or sadness, but tears of love and acceptance of my own self. Tears that whispered, "You look beautiful." and a heart that finally agreed.

A Jack of all trades

But master of none.

I've known for a very long time that I am unlike most people and find many different subjects interesting yet not interesting enough to pursue them beyond a few days of fascination. Often my interest waxes and wanes depending on a variety of different things: my economic status, current life situations, as well as attention span.

In these last few months I have bounced around from wanting to be an activist, a baker, a public speaker, an educator, a stay at home mom, maker of organic vegan lip balms, owner of an antique shop in New Orleans, a chicken farmer (thanks Mom), use my food industry knowledge to whip a restaurant in Des Moines back into shape (a la Gordon Ramsey), a jewelry maker, the next Anne Lamont (a fantastic writer), owner of a taco truck, a nutritionist, or a nurse. It's quite a list, I know.

And I'm not just talking about having a good idea and daydreaming about it. I mean, I have been convinced, to one degree or another, that any one of these aforementioned occupations could very well be my life's destiny. I have so many good, no, great ideas that it's often hard to know what to do with them all. Maybe I should write them down? Write a story? Maybe just let them go?

I don't know if it really matters what I do with these ideas. Maybe in 50 years I will have wished to keep a journal. Maybe not.

But today, I added another possible occupation to my list. Private Investigator.

Don't laugh! It's totally possible and here's why I believe that.

We (my mom and sister and I) were looking at an online edition of a local news paper where I grew up and mostly mocking the lack of anything interesting to report on. We really started to yuck it up when we ran across a weekly segment called "Warrant of the week".

The Enumclaw Police Department, in cooperation with The Courier-Herald, sponsors
a “Warrant of the Week” program. This program is designed to capture people who
currently have warrants out for their arrest by utilizing tips that citizens
provide to the Enumclaw Police. The arrest warrants for these people have been
issued by Enumclaw Municipal Court. Once a week, a photo of a wanted person,
along with a brief description of the crime, is published. Citizens who may have
information as to the whereabouts of the wanted person are encouraged to call
the Enumclaw Police Department at 360-825-3505. Callers may remain anonymous.

This week's warrant features a young man who was arrested for driving under the influence. Apparently Chris M. is the man of the week.

(*Names have been changed to protect not only myself but the innocent and the stupid.)

Christopher M. has a warrant issued for his arrest for reckless driving. M. was stopped by Enumclaw police on May 6, 2006, while attempting to drive while intoxicated and subsequently was arrested for physical control of a motor vehicle while under the influence of alcohol. M. had already been contacted by officers and warned not to drive due to his intoxication. M. waited for officers to leave the area and then attempted to drive away. As he was doing so an officer returned to the area to check on M., finding him behind the wheel. M. is 5 feet, 6 inches tall and approximately 160 pounds. He has blond hair and hazel eyes. M.’s last known address was in Puyallup.

So what do I do? First, I google him. Nothing. I then decide to search Facebook to see if there are any hits... and what to you know. We've got a match. After poking around a little bit and looking at his pictures, I'm sure this is the guy. He also has a link to his business he owns, Shine Auto Detailing; phone number and website provided. Shine Auto Detailing has a Washington State business license that is registered to his wife, Jennifer. Mailing address (I'm assuming this is their home) as well as physical address of the business. I found all of this information in about 15 minutes.

Damn, I'm good!

So, I call the tip line and explain my information to the nice lady on the other end.

Her very confused response, "Facebook? You found this guy on Facebook and this is your tip? Uhmmm... okay."

"Yes, Facebook. There is a picture of him that matches his warrant and everything. He's right there!"

"Umm... and you don't know him in any way? You only know him from the Internet?"

"No, I don't know him. I don't even "know" him on the Internet. I'm just a curious woman who knows just enough about the world wide web to be useful. I just wanted you all to know that you can find this guy and bring him in."

"..."

"I probably sound like a lunatic, don't I?"

"..."

(All the while Mom and sister are laughing at my end of the conversation.)

"Uh, okay ma'am. I've taken down your 'tip' and will let an officer know."

Oh yeah right. By "taken down my tip" she means made a confused face to the woman at the desk next to her. She's not going to tell anyone about my "Facebook tip."

But gosh darn it, I've got some HOT information and I'm not going to let it go. So what do I do? I email all of this information to the Lieutenant.

Good afternoon Lieutenant Southerland,

In reviewing your posting on the Courier
Herald Warrant of the Week I did a simple search on a popular social networking
site and found Mr. M.. Here is a link to the information I
found. There is a photo on this social networking site that matches the
photo on the Courier Herald website.
As you can see, he is a business owner
in Tacoma, owning a business called Shine Auto Detail. The website for
this business can be found here. A phone number is also provided.
I hope this helps in apprehending Mr. M.. Please let me know if I
can be of any further assistance.

I assumed it would end there but gosh darn it, I had to make my information known!

But was I proven wrong! I got a phone call 45 minutes later from the investigating officer wanting to know a little more information. Apparently Lieutenant Sortland found my information useful and forwarded it on to the appropriate person. Ha!

"Ms. R., thank you very much for this information. It is going to be very helpful in finding Mr. M.. We really really appreciate it."

Not even a hint of patronizing or sarcasm. I felt like a hero.

And then later this evening, an email from the Lieutenant himself expressing his gratitude.

I'm not going to go chasing this guy down and try to earn a reward. I am just a humble servant using the tools I have...

(Camera pulls away from medium shot of me looking very gruff and tough in all black, hand cuffs in my hand. Music plays, "Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do? whatcha gonna do when I COME FOR YOU?")

What a difference a day makes...

And that difference is YOU!

First off, I want to say THANK YOU to my family and friends that have emailed, called, and prayed for me. What an interesting time in my life right now! I feel so honored that you all care so much.

I am on the edge of something here. Something great. Something unexpected. Something EXCITING!

Since we last talked, I have been to the doctor twice for blood tests and once for results. My first set of blood work showed many interesting things going on in my body. Most of these things will bore most of you but there were two things that were alarming to the doctor which caused a need for another round of tests. The less worrying of the two was my Vitamin D levels. The normal concentration of Vitamin D in an adult is about 50 ng/ml. Mine was 6 meaning I am vitamin D deficient. Some symptoms of Vitamin D deficiency are: reduced bone strength, an increase in bone fractures, and sometimes bone pain, and muscle weakness. This explains why I have had back problems my whole life. (My weight has also been a factor.) This ALSO explains why I broke 5 toes within one week.

(I looked like a total moron with two walking casts on.)

The other issue was a little more serious.

Every person has both Estrogen (female hormones) and Testosterone (male hormones). Obviously women have more estrogen than testosterone and vice-versa for men. Our endocrine system is a delicate balance of not only these hormones but many others that control all kinds of functions in our body.

Hormones are chemical messengers that travel throughout the body coordinating complex processes like growth, metabolism, and fertility. They can influence the function of the immune system, and even alter behavior. Before birth, they guide development of the brain and reproductive system. Hormones are the reason why your arms are the same length, why you can turn food into fuel, and why you changed from head to toe at puberty. It is thanks to these chemicals that distant parts of the body communicate with one another during elaborate, and important, events.

In very plain and simple terms, when your hormone levels aren't in proper balance, all hell breaks loose through out your body. (And mine are no where close to being in balance.)

My estrogen levels are normal but my testosterone levels were more than double what they should be. And no, this doesn't mean that I really am a man in a woman's body. Dummy.

There are so many things that can cause an imbalance in your hormones. More and more research is coming out that everything from plastic, tin cans, the pill, HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy), environmental poisons, non organic and estrogen pumped animal products, stress, and cosmetics can all contribute to an imbalance. I personally am convinced that fast food has played a MAJOR roll in hormonal imbalance.

It's hard to know exactly where is started in my life and what triggered it. I have many speculations but they are irrelevant right now.

The doctor was concerned that the cause of my imbalance could be due to a tumor on one of my adrenal glands.

Oh great. If that was the case, I would have to have some type of radiation, chemo, or surgery to remove it. That is NOT what I was expecting.

It was a stressful week waiting for answers but finally I got the good news that a tumor was ruled out. Phew!

Now I was able to get my treatment planned out with the doctor and start down the road to a new life! I'm only 3 days in to my treatment but I feel so much better already. I can feel my energy levels rising and hope returning. This is so encouraging!

I sat down last week and made a list of things that I haven't done because of my weight, or the symptoms PCOS has caused me. That list turned into a sort of "bucket list" for me and I hope to get a move on and start making these things happen!

I want to share my list with you

• Go swimming. This will mean having to wear a bathing suit. I haven't done that in 15 years.
  
• Take dance lessons and learn to MOVE my body! Salsa,Tap, and Hip Hop are on the top of the list.
  
• Get a facial. I don't usually let people touch my face.
• Spend a day at the spa.
  
• Sing on a stage, with a band, for a crowd.
• Wear ANY type of clothes I want and not let my body image hold me back.
• Wear heels more. My weight as well as my bone strength (due to the vitamin D deficiency) make it very painful.
• Speak and educate about PCOS and hormone imbalances. As I learn more, I want to share what I know. I am a teacher by nature.
• Audition for Food Network. It sounds silly but I at least want to try!

So that's it. I love where my life is right now. I love that this road I have been on has been leading up to this. I love that I don't know where it is going to go...

Please proceed with caution. This is not for the faint of heart.

I have been waiting for almost a week to post this blog. It is deeply personal but with a message that I want to share.

I have been fat my whole life. I just saw a class picture from kindergarten and I was the largest child in the picture. I probably weighed 25 pounds more than any of my class mates, including the boys. When you are 6 years old, that is traumatic. I have endured ridicule and shame my entire life. I can remember the face of every person who called me names, I can remember feeling pain that was so deep and penetrating. I can remember feeling like a part of me died every time I was teased about being fat. Even now, as I write, those memories are so vivid. As a 6 year old girl I couldn't understand why I was fat and others were slim. I couldn't understand why it mattered so much that I was bigger than any one else. I played at recess just like the rest of the kids... In my eyes, I was no different. In their eyes, I was disgusting. Over time I began to see myself as they saw me, unacceptable, unlovable, and of no value. People can be so cruel to each other.

I have felt such shame about my weight. I have felt as though I have had less value as a person, no hope to be truly loved by anyone, and that I was destined to be a prisoner in this body that was suffocating me. I have found ways to cope and not let the despair crush me. My sense of humor had become my defense. I learned very quickly that it was much more effective to make people laugh with me instead of at me. I was mostly happy but when the sadness and hopelessness came, it was unbelievable as well as unbearable.

Little did I know, , I was going to be diagnosed with a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrom.

PCOS is a complicated issue that is caused by a hormone imbalance. The symptoms are humiliating and the possible problems that can develop from it are horrifying. Obesity, diabetes, infertility, and cancer are just a few of the problems that can come from PCOS.

I began dieting at the age of 12. First it was Jenny Craig and then Weight Watchers. My success was marginal at best. I would lose maybe 10 pounds. This caused more shame, more self hatred, more hopelessness. My anger was raging. I hated my life. I hated my family. I hated myself. I knew the comfort eating was what was making me fatter but I could not stop. It made no sense. The only conclusion I could come up with was that I was a defective human being and that God was cruel to make me this way.

We didn't know it but I was showing signs of PCOS starting around the age of 12, around the time puberty hits. At that time our family was enduring a tremendous amount of stress and it was assumed that the physical issues I was struggling with were because of our family situation. I had mood swings to an extreme. I was overweight, gaining more weight, and then relying on food to comfort the pain I was feeling. Even though I was a moderately active young person, I continued to gain weight which made the depression worse which made me want to eat more... it was a cycle that was more than vicious. As a teen girl, I was deeply depressed and at one point attempted suicide.

It wasn't until after High School that things started to make sense. My mom had watched an episode of Oprah and it was about PCOS. I remember her telling me that I had all the symptoms they talked about. FINALLY, I thought, there was an answer to the reason why I was fat, had body hair, no periods, and was so moody. I quickly made an appointment with a doctor in Federal Way who specialised in PCOS and felt hopeful for some relief.

She "diagnosed" me just by looking at me. She did no blood tests and barely even listened as I poured my heart out about the pain and shame I have felt for so long about my body. Even though infertility is a symptom of PCOS, she seemed unconcerned about that. She told me, "You are only 18. You aren't trying to have kids are you? All I can do for you right now is give you birth control. Call me when you think you want to have kids, we'll talk then."

I remember driving back to work after my appointment and all I could do was cry. How could she be so cruel? Did she find me disgusting and unvaluable, too? For months, I mourned over the loss of my dream to have children. I mourned over the loss of hope to ever have a normal body. I mourned over the dream to be loved and known by someone. Every dream I had for my life I quickly buried. I believed that I was destined to be trapped in my body. I had no hope for anything better.

To tell you about the next 11 years of my life would take more time than I have today to type this.

I will tell you, though, that I learned how to cope. I began telling myself things to cope with the pain I felt because of my situation. I became outgoing, funny, hospitable, overly anxious to please people even at the expense of what I really wanted. It seemed that this would be the only way to gain acceptance. I gave up myself to others. I found a way to become a person that others could enjoy. I was doing everything to scrape some type of life and future together. It was all I could do to maintain any glimmer of happiness or reason to live. And even though others came to love and accept me, I still had a deep hatred towards myself.

Over time, my symptoms have gotten worse. I might not be as depressed as I was, but the physical symptoms were catching up with me. It wasn't until 3 weeks ago that something happened and I finally thought I should see a doctor for a second opinion. (Please, PLEASE do not wait 11 years to get a second opinion.)

I found a doctor in Tacoma who treats women with PCOS. My appointment was last Friday, February 6th 2009. That day will forever be the day I got my life back. February 6th was the day that someone finally cared enough to hear me, to listen, to cry with me, to give me hope for a normal life and body. She uttered the words I've wanted to hear for so long. She told me that it wasn't my fault. I still can't believe that it's true. I have lived for 20+ years believing that I was fat because I was a bad person, because there was something wrong with me. She went into great detail explaining to me the ins-and-outs of PCOS and hormone imbalance and how it effects your ENTIRE BODY and ENTIRE LIFE if it is untreated. She explained that I have hope to lose weight and that no amount of dieting I could have done in my life would have taken the weight off.

I am still waiting to hear back about my blood work before I can begin to take any kind of medicine for treatment. I haven't lost a single pound on the outside of me but the woman on the inside is thin, happy, and fully of energy. I am no longer suffocating.

Thank you for reading my story. Thank you for taking the time to understand. If you have questions, I will answer them. If you have encouragement, I will receive it.

I am okay. I am lovable. I have hope to live the life I was meant to live.

If I had a million dollars

I'd be rich!

Now that I am aware of this particular part of my personality, my frustration has made so much more sense.

When I was a little girl (maybe 8 or 9) I remember my Dad taking me with him to the lumber yard that my Grandpa Rex owned (Copeland Lumber). I don't remember many of the details of that specific trip other than my Dad's purchase of some fine pieces of pine lumber that he was going to be using for one of his many creations.

Dad was a working man despite his physical setbacks. A veteran of the Vietnam war found him back in the States and partially paralyzed. That didn't hold Dad back though, he spent most of his time in the garage which doubled as his wood shop. There was a chop saw, a jig saw, and a band saw. All of which he used to make many different wood works. I remember, he used to make rocking chairs and ironing boards that converted into a step stool. Dad was the carpenter, Mom was the toll painter. Together they made pieces of furniture that they would sell at local craft fairs.

This wasn't my first time to the lumber yard. I would often go with Dad while he carefully inspected various sizes of wood, carefully looking down their length to make sure there wasn't too much of a bend or bow in it. After the perfect pieces of wood were chosen, Dad would take load them, and me, into the truck and head to our home far from town but not until we made a special trip to McDonald's for a happy meal and a little one-on-one time eating it in the parking lot.

Back to this particular trip to the lumber yard. I remember as I was waiting by the cash register for everything to be finished up seeing this bundle of picket fence posts. I decided right then and there that I needed to have that bundle of 24 inch posts and that I was going to create something wonderful and exciting just like Mom and Dad did. And even though I had no idea what I was going to use them for, bless his heart, Dad bought me the posts to make begging and whining stop. What 8 year old girl begs her dad for a bundle of wood? Apparently, I do.

When I got home, I immediately knew what I was going to do with my new purchase. I found scraps of wood from Dad's shop, drug them out into the yard, and built a fort. I then took my picket posts and a hammer and made a perimeter fence around my new home. I liked the idea of having my own special, secret place to go. Even though it wasn't a realistic structure that had much function, it was mine, I made it with my own hands, and it was magical to me. I played in my own special place for days and days until I found a new item that beckoned my creative brain to bring it to new life.

The fort and fence stayed standing for about a week even though I found it to be rather boring now that there was something new to do. Eventually Dad took it down so he could mow the lawn and I can't say it hurt my feelings.

Tonight I found myself dreaming about Merida Yucatan in Mexico and I realised that my life has had so many incidences of picket fence posts. It's not bad or wrong to create something and then move on. I don't have to camp out or live there. It can be temporary for me.

I am not moving to Mexico. Though I found myself looking at homes online and wondering what wonderful thing could I create from these raw, rustic homes in a beautiful, vibrant city? What kind of special place would be waiting for me? The more I dreamed, the more I longed for it.

I retrospect, I really didn't need the picket fence posts. But the idea of leaving that lumber yard without them crushed me. I just knew that if I didn't get that wood home to my house, I would miss out on the chance to have something great.

But now I am learning that I don't have to act on every dream and idea that comes to mind and it is okay to leave them there, for someone else to discover. In my own addiction, I must pray my own prayer of serenity:

God grant me the serenity
to dream the dreams You have given me;
courage to chase the ones I should;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Amen

Homes currently for sale in Merida,Yucatan Mexico: