I need to knock off the mushrooms

So-in my women's bible study group, there are those that share with open and honesty, spill their guts and everything. Then there are those that sit quietly and share only when prompted. I'm kind of co-leading things lately. So I prompt those that are quiet, sometimes with a cattle prod.

I kid, I kid.

I am a natural sharer. SHOCKING. I KNOW.

I don't have a problem spilling my guts in groups. I don't particularly feel that my pain or joy is all that different than others. So really, why not share the guts and the glory?

Then, sometimes, we meet in smaller groups, just me and these ladies from my church. AND THAT'S WHEN I START TO CLAM UP. When things get one on one, I get nervous and stop sharing. I've never really had this problem before. I've always just gone for it in one form or another.

Ya see, I can be very social and talkative and charming. I can work it. But I don't these days. Sure, there is a layer of sad lately, what with the miscarriage. But there is something else.

I'm learning how to be real and giving and seeking in a very real way with these new people in my life. And I think I'm being a little judgey. I think that perhaps I don't always fit in with people around here. I'm in a unique demographic, Christian, Zombie fan, Nurse, Mother of Two, Whiskey drinker. Yet I seek. I seek peeps to call my homegirls. I am trying to make friends. Not just BFF FOREVAH ALL!! But genuine friends.

Friends you can just call up and chat about your week. Friends that return emails because they check their email more than once a week. Friends that say yes to things. Friends that you can meet at the park and watch our kids play. Friends that are open to stuff like rollerblading and feta cheese and foreign movies. Friends that make time for you and you make time for them because the love is growing.

wait . . . that's a lot to ask for people around here.

And friends are made based on stuff you have in common. And I don't want to be all judgey but maybe that's the problem, maybe I'm not common. I think (and I really think) part of the issue is educational level. Not so much that I have a higher education then most here, in this blue collar town, it's that I'm a seeker. I love experiencing all the awesomeness of this world, beit food, sports, family love, travel, rollerblading, feta cheese and foreign movies. My world extends way beyond the packers. and now I'm sad again because I look around and well . . . this is a common area.

But, I can be common, oooOOOoooo I can blend, but not for long. Watch long enough and my peacock feathers will come fanning out.

So, what am I to do with my uniqueness when most don't share my love of all of the above?

AND WHY DO WOMEN HAVE THESE TYPES OF THOUGHTS ABOUT BASIC STUFF LIKE MAKING FRIENDS?

I guess I can just put myself out there. Just put myself out there and let it all happen. Let things naturally grow over time, like mushrooms. Maybe I've just put too much emphasis on finding the right person first and then letting friendship grow. Maybe I can just hush and let it all just happen.

Here's hoping.

Mrs. Hall discusses her geography

Where I live- it's kind of chilly right now. 5 degrees below zero with 20 inches of snow chilly. But, I don't want to talk about that. Cause, well, meh.

The Tribe Called Hall are an adventurous bunch. We plan on travel and moving and seeing all manner of topography. And here we are, in the flat lands of frozen tundra. In the summer we found all manner of state parks and nature trails. It was fun discovering what I never known about this place. Even though I grew up here. I have moved to my home town.

Then, as I drive home home from work, it is pitch black outside. 5 pm and it's so dark I can't see the inside of my car cause it's so dark outside. As I drive my mind wanders to different living locales. Places where it's not so cold and not so dark. Like Hawaii.

THEN

Last Tuesday, after a mere five minute trip, my parents show up at our new house. And the wee Mac, he hollers, "GRANDMA!!!! GRANDMA'S HERE!!!" And he hops three hops across the living room, landing squarely in her open arms. 10 feet of joy in a 3 foot toddler.

And, for the first time this year (yes, I realize it's December), Mr. Hall and I go out for a actual date. I wore a pretty sweater dress and high heel, knee high boots. It's cold out but this will not stop the fashionable Mrs. Hall!! Over dinner we make lovey dovey eyes at each other and I laughed and laughed. Then I laughed some more. Then we played footsie.

After we got home my parents left. The fact that they can come and go is beyond my wildest dreams. They come, then they go. That's the bees knees my good people.

Then, a few days later, my mother and I attend my daughter's school play. Pancake attends the same elementary school as I did. Which boggles the mind really. I never anticipated moving back here. It's not that I don't like it here, it's just that there are so many other places to see. So many other geographical locations to explore.

And we, my mother and I, we talked. We shared. We talked and shared and talked some more. And it was awesome and good. The blue birdy, she is getting full. ;)

Then, a few days later, I had my own play date. We talked and talked while eating Mongolian food. She's a grown up woman who had traveled and lived in many places. She had tried on each address like a new identity. She was trying to figure out who she was. At this point, she is very sure of who she is. She is a misses with a child. She is very much like me.

Which is a very rare find I must say. And she will, most likely, be my first friend here. Since I've moved back any way. And for this I am thankful. I like her a lot ;)

So this is my task. Not to bemoan the snow and sleet, not to whine about the chilly and cold. But to embrace this place and thrive within it. And I think I will do exactly that!!

Hope you all had a Happy Holiday. For me, it was the warmest ever :)

Hold on, gotta get my un-shy on first

Jeff is now living here three-four days a week. WEE-HEE for me and ours! Too bad for the blog here. She suffers, this blog. She misses my daily posts. But she doesn't touch my boobies so nana na na na!

Went to the children's museum on Saturday. I must say, the kid's museum up here, in this semi small town is actually nicer than the one we use to go to. It's bigger, more room for the kids to run around, touching things, running headlong into people their own size. Lots of little kid on kid fun.

And like most kid museums, there is a play area shaped like a little restaurant. Complete with faux soda fountains, plastic ovens and spongy counter seats. There is an area for the costumers (a.k.a. Moms and Dads) where they can be waited on by eager 6-10 year olds. They cook the plastic food and rush it over to the table. I am telling you people, Moms and Dads can sit for 34-43 minutes, being waited on over and over.

THIS IS BRILLIANT!!! BRILLIANT I SAY!!!

Whoever decided this should be part of any and all kid's museums, well, seriously, I would like to buy them a drink! They should get a million dollars or something. After all, there is no other time in my parenting career where I have sat for 34-43 minutes while the kids were awake. Let alone serving me faux food. ;)

Yet here is the dilemma. Jeff often chases the wee Mac during these times. As do most Dads. Which leaves the Moms. We are all slightly over educated, stylish and have brown hair. And this Saturday, it was me and another Mom. I smiled at her, perhaps made small talk to put her at ease. After all, her daughter was sort of, um, bossing Pancake around. Which is fine really, Pancake enjoys being the helper and can stand up for herself if needs be.

I have a great smile.

And um, this other Mom, she responded. And I fucking shut down like a goddamn baby turtle. I stopped making eye contact. I purposefully avoided more talking. She did offer more. She made a joke even!

I wonder if this is what guy's go through. Figuring out how to talk to other women. Man it must suck. At least I have an idea of what to say. I am a girl afterall. But dag nammit!

I remembered my promise to knock this off. This shyness. After all, I deserve to make friends, to have lunch at restaurants that don't have menus you can color on, with people I don't have to threaten with a time out.

hmmm

Well, Jeff did buy a membership to the kid's museum. He has instructed me we are going EVERYWEEKEND! So next time.

Next time. I will get my un-shy on and say something. You mark my words!

Chick fight

The thing about feminism is is that it helped create the teenage me. That and LL Cool J. Today I need to focus on the feminism. With specific relevancy to my dear friend, Ramona.

In my life, there has only been one healthy and adult relationship. This would be Mr. Hall. Before this, it was a quagmire of mislaid idealism and selfish tendencies. I didn't know how to give or receive the love I felt. Plus, I didn't like people in general.

Ironic considering my profession, no? Perhaps that is the root cause of all this. I give eight hours a day. But that's not true. I have balance with my work and life.

Going through school, I found a lot of heady people. All right brained. All gerbil type A energy. I was more middle of the road with a wicked artsy streak. Alas, I studied in the field of medicine. There was no kin to be found. Then came Ramona.

I heard Ramona sing, and I heard everything.

(shout out to Frank Black, not the actor, the Pixie singer, see below)

At that point, I had married the most awesome man walking. I thrive in this love humidor of marriage. My hand then went out for another type of relationship. That being a second best friend.

Pursuing her was tough. We share a lot of the same tendencies. Worry being the most prevalent. Being socially isolative is another. But I pursued her with a singular, alpha female purpose. She would be my friend. I knew it like I knew about Mr. Hall.

It took some time, some awkward fits and starts, but we are very good friends as of today. The thing is, I am not sure what happens now. And what I want to do about it. I will be moving soon. This town where I live, will, most likely, never see me again. She has deeper roots than I.

That's not the big problem though. The big problem is fundamental differences. I am growing in ways unimaginable. With yoga and a proper diet, I conquered my insomnia. This insomnia began at age eight! I am more in control of my worry than I have ever been. I am bursting with happiness.

My politics have also changed. I categorize myself as a recovering feminist. My idealism has shifted to a middle ground. I no longer hold ideals like they are liquid gold in my palm. I can shake and scatter them about the place. I don't fear boobie implants.

Part of why I am good at my job is my absolute tolerance. On my best days, what ever patients give me, I receive with unwavering gratitude. Nothing shocks me. Things may surprise me, but nothing gives me cause to believe they are right or wrong. There is so much shame involved with telling one's story. I seek to lift this. I am a welcoming place to shed their skin.

How can I hold Ramona and her heart of worry and angst? She tolerates me. Me with my poking fun at her liberalism. Her pro-choice key chain. Me with my ambivalence toward politics. Me with my love for The Girls Next Door.

But I don't want her to tolerate me. I want her to feel what I feel. Calm and finally free. But things are not looking that way. So I pulled back a little. She found out about my exam results through this blog and a call to Mr. Hall. This greatly upset her.

The choice now is to move forward. If I was having problems with Mr. Hall, the choice as to how to move forward, would be very clear. But, she is complicated. And so am I.

And that is where we stand now.

Ramona, I dedicate this to you.