Potter's Ground Extra: Tell the meaning of this DREAM

This post is about finding the meaning of my dream, not the picture. Please click here for the dream.




If you can tell me the meaning of this dream, you get 10 points.

(just click on that sentence to go to the real post.)

O- I am choosing a first name, feel free to suggest one in the comments :)



Good Luck!

Eventually, all women talk about this

Eventually, all women talk about this.

I will only discuss the movie briefly. So bear with me. :)

Because my husband loves me, he acquired a copy of the movie "Sex and the City." Now, I was not a huge fan of the series. More of a fan of what the series said. That being the back and emotional stories of the women. And while it got into some depth, it was never quite that deep.

Either way, because my husband loves me, we drank wine and watched the series and he listened as I rehashed several previous relationships and how I had been hurt. Good times.

The movie was a fuck all disappointment. And I can tell you why.

Somewhere along the line, the writers become obsessed with interjecting things like post-feminism, meaningless consumerism, and Sarah Jessica Parker started to write her 'ideas' into the script. And while I have no problem with any of these story lines or abject influences, when you interject what you want to say with what your write, the story dies on the page.

Again, the movie was a fuck all disappointment.

My God, there was a fashion show right in the middle of it. Poor Mr. Hall, he powered through the entire thing. Didn't even nod off. Whined a bit, but simmered down when I asked him to. All because he loves me.

But let's pause to consider the proverb:

What you don't like about others, you don't like about yourself.

And let's expand it out the writing in this movie, and it's sophomoric meanderings and stupidness that got to me so bad. Why did it irritate me so? Because I see part of my writing in it. Part of my writing here, in this blog.

As I expose my self here I find myself getting defensive. I am a minority. I am happily married, not into bondage or wife swapping of any kind, have two great kids, and truly am blessed. I am normal. Complicated and a bit odd sure, but in a very normal way.

And my defensiveness gets into my writing. I set things up to justify what I want to write and THUS IT BEGINS TO STINK AROUND HERE LIKE THE GOD AWFUL SEX AND THE CITY MOVIE.

So let me declare NO MORE!

Ya'll get who I am by now. But let me change directions from explaining and or justifying it. Let me really start to write here. Let me go in a direction that doesn't begin with fear or righteousness.

And let's be better for it. You and me.

Let's begin with a little name change.

How about I start using a first name.

How about Emily?

Or Sadie?

Any suggestions?

And while we are at it, any suggestions for the muse? Wax, palm trees, or mountain goats?

And then, let's truly begin what we are all here for.

:)

Mrs. Hall

Potter's Ground: Round One

Time again has come for Potter's Ground.
This month's theme is America and the Democratic Process:


To goal is to guess the musical reference. The first person who guesses correctly gets ten points. If you aren't that person, you can still gather points (up to five) by telling me about a personal connection to the music.

For a complete description of the game click here.

Let's begin with a continuation of Johnny Cash shall we?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Name all the animals in this song and tell me your favorite:

Dear White Trash Mom:

Photo by: Lotus07, Models: unknown

Hypocrisy, (Lotus07 Blog)

Dear White Trash Mom:

I enjoyed our little chit- chat at the grocery store today. And thank you for letting my daughter tickle your baby girl's toes and coo over her. How old is she now, four months? Already getting her little baby teeth, so cute!! Most Mothers never let strange kids touch their babies. After all, kids are vectors.

And I do appreciate the discussion about clothes. I did mean what I said, your baby girl's dress was quite lovely. And yes, garage sales are so much fun!

But, can I speak to you for second? Mother to Mother? One white trash mom to another? And yes, I qualify for the moniker white trash, after all, you can take the girl out of the trailer park . . . .

First, let's talk about what you are wearing. I understand the issue here. I know what happens to a Mom's body after kids. Our bodies are like deflated balloons. However, there is no need to wear skin tight tank tops and too small jeans. It makes you look bigger than you are. Muffin tops are never attractive. And while you are very young, you can still look trendy and stylish.

I find dressing like this projects an image of you that is more slutty and less intelligent than I found you to be.

Also, if your boyfriend would not dress like a gangster, what with his waist band hanging around the mid thigh region and his boxers displayed prominently . . . . He's a Dad now, he should dress the part. Please have him reconsider the wife beaters.

But, forgot I said any of this. It is no matter. We live in a state where this type of clothing is the norm. It is part of the milieu.

What makes me the most sad is what's in your cart. Your daughter is beginning to eat what you eat now, so for her sake, can you reconsider your food? Beefaroni, pop tarts, horrible 89 cent "wheat bread", full strength soda, snacky cakes, and count chocula will do her more harm than good. And yes, my cart has spegghettios, but it is a small can, perfect for one bowl each for the kids.

I have some very yummy food here. I have delicious Kashi cereal with yogurt nuggets. And speaking of yogurt, the kids get to pick out three yogurts each. Little Pancake prefers vanilla, strawberry and banana. Little Mac, well, he is almost 35 lbs, he prefers everything! Please, try the tasty varieties of veggie burgers, real cheese (not the Kraft oily singles 'cheese') and meats from the deli.

I aways buy chicken tenders that I use to make chicken nuggets. We use the Rachael Ray recipe. Easy peasy lemon squeezey. No need for a trip to McDonald's this way! The applesauce is always a hit, I mix raisins in it to help sweeten the pot. After all, it is applesauce without corn syrup.

Oh, and no, eating this way is not more expensive. In fact, it might be less so. Our totals were about the same. See?

Basically, I don't strive to eat healthy. Just tastily. And you can too. Obviously you love your little girl. So give it a try eh?

Your friend in line,

Mrs. Hall

This is my life, right here

This is my life, all wrapped up in a Thomas the Train bed.

If you click on the photo the cutness gets even bigger.

;)

Questions and answers

1. First off, why the hell can't I move the items at the bottom of the main page. My profile, my recent visitor and such are all suppose to be next to my posts NOT UNDER IT. But, no matter how many times I go to 'layout' and try to fix it, it never gets back to the way it was.

Anyone have any ideas?


1. My posts over at the Bonez site have prompted some questions. Questions from readers in real life and blog life. Questions best answered.

The posts: Mrs. Hall loses it: Part one, Mrs. Hall loses it: Part two

As I explained to Lotus07: Truth be told, it is my 'homework' from my counselor I saw while losing the weight. Also, I hadn't written anything for 10 years prior to this journal. And after I wrote this journal, I started this blog.

I don't believe the journals belong on this blog. They don't feel right being here. But, I believe they needed light. And if they inspire others (my hope) that would be awesome. Either way, they do no good just sitting here on my hard drive.

But, the story goes back a few weeks before the first journal entry. It involves Mr. Hall. Here is us a few months ago. I am the one in the brown jacket.

 

Here is me doing the yoga pose "Standing Bow". The goal is to pull your arm with your leg, like pulling a bow. And I do love that brown jacket. I am just tickled that I get to wear it again. It is such a stylish number. And I loove the jeans. In fact just wore those today!

 

Back to the back story to those journals.

One day I had decided to begin eating chocolate chips out of the bag. Now, I have a low tolerance for such rich food. And I am hypersensitive to caffeine. Yet, I pounded a two pound bag over 14 hours or so. Fist full after fistful. I was very covert about it. Mr. Hall didn't know anything. And I knew it would make me very sick and very wired. But I did it anyway.

This was the last act in an increasingly self-destructive pattern with me. I had begun to hide food from Mr. Hall and binge. My weight was getting out of control. I think I just came to a breaking point with that bag of chips. I threw my hands up and sought out a counselor.

As I started to lose the weight, I started to get angry. I was reconnecting with a body I long forgotten to care for. And the body was pissed!

It was ugly and very hard to deal with. Mr. Hall was at my side, as always, holding me. Turns out, he had known about the chips all along. He just didn't know how to help. But, just being there is all the help I needed. The real help was listening to my counselor, writing the journals and going to weight watchers. Yoga helped the most.

Overall, what I learned the most is this:

If women are to choose a battlefield to war with the world, they will first choose their bodies.

That's a Mrs. Hall original statement up there.

And as I lost the weight and went through all that came with reconnecting my heart body and mind, I got stronger than I ever imagined.

So take heart.

It gets worse before it gets better with those journals.

But, no pain, no gain.

(That's not an original saying ;)

If you want to get all up close with this issue, click here.

Second interview: Reserved edition

I drove there a few nights ago. Slept in a little and went to the interview place. Met with the receptionist and she lead me to the interview room.

There sat about forty staff. It was the largest group interview I had ever had. After that group listened to my story, my professional exploits and adventures, they all left and four doctors remained.

Me and the four doctors chatted. Spoke clinical speak. I was very intimidated.

And tired. This driving four hours to new interview places is wearing me out.

And telling my story over and over again is wearing me out. The weight of my decisions are wearing me out.

I hope it went well. I mean, I was sitting in a room with four doctors. Doctors and nurses have different training, different language. We do the same things though. Treat patients. And while everyone practices differently, we all have the same goals. Hopefully.

It was very weird. I mean, who walks into an interview and finds forty people waiting there? And then gets a second go round of questions and answers with four people. But, they kept having me go to more rooms and find out more things. And they were having a pot luck and wanted me to join.

Have some cheesecake! Have some of that ambrosia salad! Well worth the time to try the sloppy joes!

Or Spanish hamburgers as it is called around these parts.

It was about three hours into the interview at this part. I literally had to excuse myself at this point. I have to drive back I said.

It was nice and weird at all the same time. I hope I rose to the occasion.

I wasn't on my full game though. I was . . . . reserved. Normally I am bouncy and confident. But this is me as a nurse. I am a now a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner. Still getting my feet on the ground.

What helped was my wardrobe. I had my black, knee high leather boots on. The ones with the four inch heal. I had a pretty dress and my hair all cute. Wore make up. Smiled and spoke.

But speaking in these types of interviews is very different. There are no stock questions like 'What is your greatest weakness or Where do you see yourself in 10 years?'

It is, "How comfortable are you with prescribing these types of drugs?" or "What is your experience with this type of patient population with x or y diagnosis?" And honestly there are pockets of certain populations and diagnosis I have never seen. And some I understand like the back of my hand.

And I try my best to stay concrete and in the here and now. I try not to lapse into waxing poetic or getting all philosophical. And I remember that the majority of people in the science fields (i.e. MEDICINE) are not artsy like me. So I let my right brain show more.

Which is not something I am use to. Speaking from the right brain. And again, there was a language barrier to content with. Doctors are trained one way and nurses another. Each with its on shorthand and vernacular. I wonder if I made sense. I actually ask them this. They assure me that I do indeed make sense. God I hope I did.

And I was so very honest. I say things that I haven't rehearsed. I say things I haven't said out loud before.

All in all it was hard to read them. The interviewers. There was no head nodding or agreeing with me. Just listening and reservedness. And there was some warmth at the end. But, I am not sure if they got me, or perhaps they saw me as I am.

A brand new Psych-NP. I am barely a fetus at this point. My heart is strong and I am starting to wiggle. And given the right place I will grow ten feet tall.

I hope, I think, this is the right place. I hope they think so too. After all, they have cheesecake.