So, it’s been two years since I’ve visited “Life – It’s a Work In Progress”. Not because I haven’t had anything to share, but because life’s been too busy… well… progressing. A lot has happened, a lot hasn’t happened, and things are so very different than they were two years ago when I last wrote here.
There are a few things that haven’t changed, however – and not all of them should have stayed as they were. My attitude, for instance… Continue reading →
“Well, Mom, do you think I made a good choice?” We stared out the windshield of my parents’ van as my dad and new husband walked to the doors of a building.
She turned and looked me in the eye, one eyebrow slightly raised. “You really think it was your choice, Jahnelle?”
Memories of the past three years ran through my head. The first time I met this quiet, serious, shy guy who is now the Mr. to my Mrs., I was so full of mental anguish I couldn’t breathe because of it. At first, he was just a guy who went to the same church as me. Nice, but I wasn’t interested in – well, anything, to tell you the truth. I was lucky to get up in the morning and not fall apart.
For two years, he listened to me cry – hands in his pockets, warm brown eyes watching me. He became a friend, this calm man of few words. He asked questions, nodded at the answers or tilted his head to the side, inviting more. He listened as I worked through issues big and small. He was like those rocks in the middle of the Zen sand garden: peaceful quietude against my chaotic emotions. Continue reading →
About 3% of the U.S. population has it and approximately 83,000 are women. Although there’s lots of guessing by the medical community, there’s no known cause, no known cure, and most people consider it a “catch-all” diagnosis. Even some doctors believe it’s a psychological condition. Hypochondria, anyone? Well, it isn’t in my head. Continue reading →
A few months ago, my dad bought eleven chickens. He has since summed up the chicken caring experience like this, “Now I know when someone calls you a chicken, it’s really an insult.” Our little egg layers aren’t even laying eggs yet since they aren’t old enough to breed.
A few oddities:
One of our hens is a Silkie, given to my daughter by our neighbor who decided she needed a pet. J, who has unsuccessfully tried to name a series (and wide variety) of creatures Nala, now has a Nala of her very own. Apparently, Nala will be laying little eggs small enough that it’d take four or five to make a regular sized egg. I’ve never seen a chicken that looked like it had fur. Continue reading →
I went and got my feelings hurt today because of a careless remark about a tattoo of mine. It’s the first time I’ve ever ended a conversation with my best friend feeling… well, less than beautiful. I wanted to cry. I wanted to smack them. Their words hurt, and it was about something I can’t change.
I’ve had this tattoo for over half my life – so long, in fact, that I barely notice it now. It’s just a part of me. And I think that’s what hurt. It felt, on some deep down level, that I had been rejected. This is someone who genuinely cares about me and is one of the most loving people I know. I knew better, and yet it still hurt.
As I’m dwelling on this, trying to swallow the hurt I know wasn’t intentionally inflicted, I got to thinking. This, as some of you know, is quite dangerous for me to do. And yet, sometimes, a little clarity and understanding comes out of it… Continue reading →
The difference between a flower and a weed is how much the plant is wanted.
I’m convinced pretty much anything can be a metaphor for life’s experiences. I’m also convinced pretty much anything can be positive or negative, depending on one’s outlook at the time. In fact, as I once wrote, I’m sure our reality changes depending on… well… us.
Take, for instance, a garden. If your life were a garden, what would you be growing? Weeds? Flowers? Vegetables? A haven for critters? Continue reading →
At the end of the road less traveled... (Snake River, Wyoming, taken by Jahnelle Pittman)
‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,’ to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings…’
Lewis Carroll, The Walrus and the Carpenter
Poetry. The only thing that pulls more emotion from me is music. I love poetry and prose. The type of poetry I enjoy most rhymes. It has a beat to it – a staccato rhythm that beats with my heart, wakes it up and makes it feel. Poetry feeds emotion without the need of music; it’s pure, unadulterated language. Ah, to laugh, to love, to live – is poetry… Continue reading →