You can call me: Black Phoenix (Wasp Killer).

Yesterday as I was sitting outside communing with the babies, I saw a couple of wasps around the peppers. I was hoping for bees but maybe wasps mean bees are coming? Idk. I didn’t think anything of it. This morning when I went to greet the babies and give them a bath, for some reason, I happened to look up and there I saw – to my horror – a newly forming wasp nest right above the door!!

0127_wasps1

Now you KNOW this wasn’t gonna be tolerated. Quick google search and Thank God, I just so happened to have – WD40. Intel says wasps don’t move fast in cooler weather so it was either I take them out tonight or now. My blood said, “now.” No prisoners. Attack in the cool of the morn! I head out there with my WD40 sniper and raising my right arm lifted high and out, spray that sucker at least 10 times – each time spraying and moving back; spraying and moving back, in case the wasps get crunk. Dodge and spray. Dodge and spray – drenching the nest. One wasp flies away. Two fall dead. At least one is dead on the nest. In an hour or so, I need to return to the scene to remove all evidence of the assassinations. This is wasp killer, BlackPhoenix – Out.

1d60b521-6c7d-4f6d-aa82-0b02bfcce40d_1.f6b6113a6e83789b721bc89eb362dbbe………

Black Phoenix, Operation Wasp Merking – Status update – so I just opened the back door and there was one hovering. I quickly shut the door, waited a moment, cracked it ajar to find that number had increased to two BUT they were hovering drunkenly. I shut the door quickly and proceeded to leave the apartment via the front door, walk around to the back of the building, moved stealthily up the wooden stairs to my apartment; readied the WD40 and took all the agents OUT. All evidence of bodies has been disposed of and the command center eliminated (after a few preliminary attempts, I knocked down the nest with a broom handle for removal. It was surprisingly adherent but had since shriveled during the intervening moments from the initial WD40 onslaught).

………..

BP Log – Supplemental:

Given the nature of this year, it is perhaps surprising that I should have been shocked by the presence of the invaders, but I was. This is 2020, one could say that I should be ready for any and everything but alas, I was not. Even in the midst of the madness of the external world, I was still taken aback by the presence of the wasps so close to base camp. Further intel states that wasps are agile in their movements, able to set up a command center within 48-72 hours. I am pleased to have eliminated the threat and will continue to parole the outer limits.

BP out.

658012f9f4150c81d7220b03c90c7f47

2020 Did NOT Come To Play

2020-bruh

The year is now 2020. I return to this blog for one reason and one reason alone – to catalogue the madness that has been this year. I cannot even begin to list everything horrific that has happened so far BUT here is a list that I lifted from someone’s facebook post from April of this year:

April 2, 2020. 
Gas price a mile from home was $1.89.
School is cancelled – yes cancelled and for 7 weeks so far- no plan to return until at least May 4th!
Social distancing measures are on the rise.
Taped markings are on the floors at grocery stores and what few other stores are open and the purpose is to help distance shoppers (6ft) from each other.
There are a limited number of people allowed inside stores, therefore, lines are now formed outside the store doors with door guards present.
Non-essential stores and businesses are mandated to stay closed including restaurants!
Parks, trails, Beaches and in some cases entire cities locked up.
Entire sports seasons are cancelled.
Concerts, tours, festivals, entertainment events – cancelled. It’s April 2 and Bourne has already cancelled 4th of July fireworks!
Weddings, family celebrations, holiday gatherings – cancelled.
No masses, churches are closed.
They said no gatherings of 100 or more, then 50 or more, then 10, then 20 or more, now 5 or more.
Funerals- OMG you have to elect only the few necessary family to even attend any type of funeral service.
Town halls are CLOSED. S
o are bank lobbies!!! You can’t go inside!
Disney World is closed.
Children’s outdoor play parks are closed. Play structures are wrapped in caution tape. No playing on ball fields, basket ball courts etc.
There are no visitors allowed in nursing homes or hospitals. None.
There is a shortage of masks, gowns, gloves for our front-line workers.
Shortage of ventilators for the critically ill.
Panic buying set in weeks ago and we have a toilet paper shortage, no disinfecting supplies, no hand sanitizer.
Shelves at times are bare in the stores.
Manufacturers, distilleries and other businesses switch their lines to help make visors, masks, hand sanitizer and PPE.
PMP closes the border to all non-essential travel.
Hotels are now ordered to close and there are no Airbnb reservations allowed either.
Fines are established for breaking the rules.
Stadiums and recreation facilities open up for the overflow of Covid-19 patients.
Press conferences daily from the President. Daily updates on new cases, recoveries, and deaths.
Government incentives to stay home.Barely anyone on the roads. People wearing masks and gloves outside.
Essential service workers are terrified to go to work.
Medical field workers are afraid to go home to their families.
This is the Novel Coronavirus (Covid-19) Pandemic, declared March 11th, 2020.

We are now in the middle of a blazingly hot Summer with no end in sight for the madness that has subsumed the earth and particularly this nation. Over the course of the next few weeks, I will endeavor to detail the events that have happened since then along with my personal musings and daily shenanigans.

We all thought we could decide the ‘epicness’ of 2020. We were wrong. 2020 came to dominate, not to pander.

Still Waking Up

I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of slow morning routines. What must it be like to open your eyes to a new morning, stretch languidly in your bed and slowly allow yourself to come to full consciousness as the soft rays of sunlight fall gently on your face. Finally, you rise gracefully from bed, plod to the bathroom for your morning ablutions before returning to slip into some comfortable pajamas and a soft robe. Prayers over, journalling done, you lean back in your chair as you partake of a delicious breakfast with a newspaper beside you. Or perhaps you take your breakfast outside in your backyard, breathing in the delicate fragrances of blooming flowers and plants as birds chirp their morning greetings. Breakfast done, reading done, you center yourself in the morning’s beauty all before you make your way out of the door to dress for work or back through the house to your home office.

Imagine this kind of morning every day.  Imagine this kind of purposeful routine every day. A routine without hurry.

Back-garden-July-12th-2

 

Blossoming

I realize that somewhere along the line, I lost sight of my essence. For many reasons the essence of who I was, was never allowed to express itself in all of its uniqueness. I was forced to create a duller, more acceptable version of myself although the real me often shown through the cracks. I’ve been so scared of the real me because it is so very different – so ALIVE, so INTENSE.

Now, as I return to and explore the me I was meant to be, I sometimes find myself second-guessing myself; worried that I will be “too much” – my excitement for life, my exuberance for existing, my pleasure in creativity, even the timbre of my voice has been attacked for its power and strength. I worry that I will be “too much” for those whom I truly admire and love.

Part of me is angered for having to confine myself to societal norms. Part of me is saddened that I am even in this situation (questioning who God created me to be). Part of me just wants to live and be and breath – in all the wonder that is in me. I realize that part of my chronic fatigue is secondary to a life-long repression (by myself and by the struggles and sorrows of this world) of the radiant joy that resides in me. So here I am.

Finally beginning to understand that the nagging sensation that “this isn’t how life is supposed to be” – dry, depressing, dark, damaging – isn’t weird or wrong. It’s the truth that I’ve known all along. I don’t want to subdue myself anymore. My whole being is tired of being less than…. I need us to live. Live abundantly. Live and experience all that life has to offer – in a transparent, kind, caring and profound way. A way that honors this gift that we call life and God – the Giver of that Life.

And even if the world is not ready for me, even if YOU aren’t ready for me, well, I’m gonna learn to be okay with that. Because somewhere out there is someone who needs what I’m about to birth in order not to die.

What has existed must not limit what shall exist!

1-blossoming-amaryllis-flower-tilen-hrovatic

2K19

I face the new year with nothing but myself. I have no high hopes or great expectations. I am not encumbered with resolutions or regret. 2k18 taught me to honor my humanity, respect my frailty and recognize my fragility.

I don’t long for some great experience or great movement to shake the heavens for blessings to fall. I face each day quietly. It is only a day after all. Anything can happen. No longer running on fumes, I am conscious of walking – first the lift, then the heel strikes followed by that meaty part of my foot before the toes engage to push me off again.

I don’t want anyone else’s life. I can’t afford to compare. I can’t dwell on regrets or past hurts. I have no time for pettiness or ill will. It’s been all flushed out. Frankly, I don’t have the energy to interact with such things and those people for whom drama is their middle name.

It is a quietness that I have embraced. The quiet of the day-by-day. If I find happiness today, then so be it. If sorrows haunt my thoughts, I will not self-flagellate. I have long battled. Even this year I fought against accepting that I could not force myself to be more than I was. The fatigue. The sorrows. The pain. The frustration. I could not fight them. I laid down my weapons.

I stopped. I surrendered. Told God He had to be God. I wasn’t trying anymore.

It’s better this way. I’m not fighting to keep the mask. I’m not struggling to make myself happy. My honesty with myself is my gift to myself.

It’s New Year’s Eve.

And I’m still breathing.

 

My Own Holiday Movie

My belovèd is finally with me. After two years of being situated on two different continents, we’re finally together. This will be our second Christmas together. After decades of singleness, I was so excited to have the opportunity to do holiday things together! I’ve been searching online for various concerts, markets and exhibitions.

DCholidaymarket-56e09bf85f9b5854a9f8553cThis weekend there will be a flurry of markets and I asked him if he wanted to go. He returned with a resounding “no” and to add insult to injury, that he didn’t have time tomorrow for such things.

Did you hear that?

That was the sound of my hope being popped.

All these years of watching holiday movies where couples dressed in warm winter gear hold cups of hot cocoa and admire various wares created by artistic types got me revved up. I figured this would be a great way to start our Christmas festivities!

But, well, it looks like I’ll be going to these markets solo or with friends, which in and of itself isn’t bad at all. Not everyone enjoys these sorts of activities and it’s quite cold so even I shudder a bit at being outside BUT it’s the season and I want to do something new and different!

IMG_20161126_203050A few years ago when I was in London, I attended their Christmas in Hyde Park and it was FANTASTIC! The park is huuuuge enough to accommodate multiple rides, tents, food areas, you name it! I had my first mulled cider and a very tasty sausage!

So, instead of moping around throwing dirty looks at belovèd, I’m going to be intentional and proactive and happy my own dang self!

I I think tomorrow afternoon I’ll head over to a market close by. Who knows? Maybe after all the pictures and instastories that I’ll post, belovèd will change his mind? Even if he doesn’t, I’ll still have a jolly good time! And you know what? I’ll peruse as many holiday markets as I can!

 

 

Dream Sequence

dreamsBetween August 10 and August 11th of this year, I slept. During the night I dreamed – as I have been doing since I was born – and as one who vividly remembers her dreams (not a great superpower), I woke up with these words ringing in my ears; powerful, energetic words that were flowing from my mouth into the space between us.

You have been given only one day. 60s in one min. 60m in one hr. 24 hrs in one day. Time is limited. Breaths are limited. You do not have an infinite resource of time to be alive in this plane, on this earth. At some point you will die. But the grace and mercy of an unlimited God has given you the capacity to possess an unlimited amount of time with Him, after your limited time on Earth has passed. From finite to infinite. The only question is where you will spend that unlimited time.

Mmere Dane

On this crisp Autumn afternoon, I stare out of the window through the tilted blinds at the streets below as cars and pedestrians move toward their destinations with steady purpose. The traffic light at the intersection has gone rogue, blinking red. The trees have lost their verdancy and fullness as the leaves have changed color, shriveling in the process until they make their slow annual descent downward. A breeze stirs through the remaining leaves – one which I am sure is cold. I have no desire to step into this bracing cold, even if the sun is shining in a sky of robin’s egg blue.

20181117_184301

On days like this, my gratitude for being able to afford this second floor, one-bedroom apartment becomes palpable. The fridge and cabinets are fully stocked, all the bills are paid and while my checking account has been drastically reduced; it is not negative.

At the beginning of this year, I prayed for God to actively change my negative mindsets and thought processes for more positive ones. Most of my life I’ve been a worrier, but I didn’t realize how much of a worrier I was until recently when I started taking stock of my thoughts. Even when nothing anxiety provoking was happening, I was delving on past mistakes, failures, issues and pondering the probabilities of present and future problems. This is untenable. ba968579f0a589dfa359f5e4a8cbd539

The process of changing one’s mind from old, set in thoughts and behaviors is itself an emotionally wearying one. That makes sense since thoughts are carried on neuronal highways that are strengthened the more they are used. What I have been doing is forcing my mind to focus on positives – telling myself that such and such good thing is happening or stopping myself from dwelling on past hurts.

Trust me when I say it’s gotten better but not easier. I’m sure that I’ve only skimmed the surface of this process but after 319 days, I am stronger. Anxious, worrying, fearful, suspicious, depressed thoughts not only drain our strength but they also prevent strength from growing. This is one of the reasons I have felt so fatigued for so long. Even when some good thoughts come, they are at most crushed, at minimum overwhelmed by the established negative thoughts.

A hope fills me now that I have not known. Additionally, I am TIRED of being sad. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to be down-in-the-dumps. I don’t want to be stressed, anxious, unhappy and discouraged.

30d95197ccd05331a3ecc526dbcad332I am ready for joy to constantly and consistently flood my soul.

This has been a year of release. Not because I sought it but because I could no longer hold anything. I’ve always been able to find some energy to create energy to get going. Not so this year. All my drive, energy, desire and capacity disappeared. Nothing moved me. Life was meaningless. I was left as an empty, cold pot.

I’ve had moments like this but never a whole year like this – a year where I was even too tired to have emotions. I kept my counsel. After all, what did I have to say? I was done with living? I was done with pushing, striving, forcing to make things better?

With this came a frankness. Look here, I told God, I am terrified of you. I am terrified because it seems all you want are martyrs who do your bidding. Somehow our suffering is supposed to bring you glory and I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with this. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not doing enough for you and at the same time falling apart – wondering when You’ll come through and be this God that you say you are? I’m tired of seeing drops when I’ve been promised a deluge. I’m tired of having to frantically run around looking for you, looking for the good that you say you promise to us in the midst of all this bad.

If He wanted me to follow Him, then He was going to have to show me why because the only thing I had was pain, depression, sadness, fatigue, worthlessness, depression and this futile attempt to believe in a God who demanded so much more than He gave. If he wanted my total devotion then He was going to have to remove these lenses of pain through which I viewed the world and place them with lenses of divine hope.

I can’t serve a God I’m terrified of. I can’t serve a God who only brings pain – even if the supposed end is beautiful. I’m not one of those long-sufferers who can maintain themselves through hell and high water. I’m not one of those who can hold on and hold out all my life. I’m fragile. I’m frail.

And. I’m. Tired. 

In. Every. Possible. Way.

Even my body decided to give out this year.

Whatever He wanted for me this year was going to have to come from Him and Him alone. There was no strength left in me. No power to push. No ability to manipulate. No capacity to stimulate.

I was done.

In many ways, I still am.

And I stopped being able to care about so so so many things.