I just feel moved to write about this treasure… as an outsider. I am not an adoptee, nor have I adopted…

Oh, but to bring a child into a circle of love and family where there was none… moves me deeply.

I hold adoptive families in the highest regard… for the effort and sacrifices they make to be able to make an adoption happen. It is time consuming. It is expensive. It can be emotionally draining and taxing in ways I am certain I have no clue.

I just want to use some of the space I usually fill with silliness to acknowledge families who adopt – whether local or children from other nations. A good friend of mine recently adopted a young brother and sister from Ghana. If you browse the blog of Kristin at The Jag 7, you can read about their journey. It was a difficult and long process, but if you peek, you will see it was worth it all. So precious.

Adoption is so heavy on my mind and in my heart simply because of people like Kristin above… and also because of new connections on Twitter… and one made recently via this blog. I want to tell you about them…

@NuttyElle, my new Twitter friend… she is a spicy one and called me out to buy truffles, for the children. Being the never-on-the-ball (a.k.a. I SUCK) kinda gal that I am, I missed this year’s candy sale *booo*…but how about a little shout-out for Sweet Hope! Sweet Hope is an organization dedicated to helping orphans worldwide. Instead of me knocking out rambly sentences, how about you go visit Sweet Hope. It is too late to order candy this year, but donations are always welcome and according to a tweet she sent yesterday $3000 is going to Mirnoe Orphanage! Visit @Nuttyelle’s blog too - Life of Elle.

I received a comment recently – a comment for my L’Bel giveaway. A question I asked in that post was, “What is a place you have been that makes you feel beautiful?” Lindsey of The Wheeler Journey answered, “The moment my little girl was handed to me in Guatemala was the most beautiful moment and I felt completely joyful and beautiful!!!”

I replied to her comment… I was so touched. She sent a link back to a post that just touched my heart. It is a story on another blog about an 11 year old girl, Lydia, who set a goal to raise $20,000… in 8 days… and if she did – could her family please adopt a specific child with Down Syndrome in Eastern Europe.

She raised over $26,000 in that span of time.

Read the story in full here.

I share all this… because there is so much *blah* around, it seems. And then there is Christmas and commercialism and… It just fills my heart to see what @Nuttyelle is doing, what Lydia is doing, and what my friend Kristin’s family is doing.

What am I doing? What are we doing? I have been so distracted by the busy-ness of living… Have I scheduled away time to be able to… do… or be?

Not everyone is “called” to adopt. But we are all called to something — something good and something bigger than ourselves. Aren’t we? Is life supposed to be about “me doing what I gotta do for me”?

I know people like that. They some lonely folk. I’m pretty sure that if all you’ve been living for is you, at the end… that is all there will be. So lonely. So empty.

I don’t want just me. Even if I am wearing glitter.

Where does one start? Right where we are? Sure! Have you ever noticed how one Cranky Crankerson can ruin your day? Makes me wonder about the times I have turned a good day into a bad one for another person. I feel extending kindness toward others can be a catalyst to greater things. Kindness begets kindness. “Angry” behaves the same way.

Who knows what momentum of goodness has been stifled by a terse word or a judgemental stare.

I want to remind myself and encourage others to step back. Take in the stories of kindness and love… let those things be your momentum… and push it forward for others to continue it… Go big… go simple… just go with kindness and a heart for others.

Of course, for me… you know what this means? Tomorrow I will be hit with the greatest kindness test known to man. That’s what happens when I get all deep-like. That’s why I do it so rarely. I also stopped praying for patience years ago.

I’m kidding. No. I’m not kidding. Pray for me tomorrow. Really.

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Adoption and Goodwill Toward Men is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

Last night I had to take my 6 year old daughter into the local urgent care. It seems my stellar skillz as mother are not at stellar as one might think. A wound on her arm (inflicted by beauty bark 4 days ago) grew to the size of a roma tomato between the hours of 9 and 7 yesterday… 

But that’s not what I was thinking about. I was thinking this:

WHY are there no CLOCKS in WAITING rooms?

Which naturally progressed my mind toward my next thought:

Speaking of waiting… I find it a bit curious that the people in WAITING rooms are called PATIENCE PATIENTS.

Just had my thinkin’ cap on… again. I look pretty cute in a tight fitting thinking cap… I bet I’d look pretty cute in one of those little white jackets with the arms the tie behind the back. 

***Olivia is doing fine, by the way. She screamed and kicked and was the bravest a 6 year old girl could be considering she was given 2 shots, lanced, then that owie had the dickens squozed out of it… and then to add insult to injury – the doctor packed it! Schnikies! I was so proud of my girl. And while I was busy being proud of her I was also busy not vomiting, though it would have been easy to do. I was also busy not passing out, though that would also have been very easy to do. As soon as I knew Livi was on the upswing, I turned onto my butt, cried, caught my breath, nearly stripped naked for I was boiling hot! And let my stomach regain it’s composure. Whew, it’s hard seeing your babies suffer.***

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Oh dear, Jenny's been thinking again… is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

Happy St. Patty’s Day! Have you been given the gift of eloquence? Perhaps you are known for your flattering tongue… or your clever wit. If so, it may be you’ve been making out with the Blarney Stone. Mwah!

I’m wearing that thar shirt today. That person in that shirt – it’s me. You can’t pinch me! Nee-ner.

I like that word, “Blarney”. Don’t you like saying that word? I think it’s because of the way it rrrrolls off the tongue… especially with a pint of Irish lager coursing thorough yer blood stream. Aye. Do the Irish say, “Aye”? If they don’t, they should.

I’m part Irish. I can TOTALLY say, “Kiss me, I’m Irish”. But I don’t, ’cause I don’t usually invite kisses… unless I am tenderly holding a picture of the Blarney Stone. BUT, if ya ever want to say “Kiss me, I’m Irish.” IN Irish, go here. Aye. Maybe I’m confusing the Irish (my peeps) with Pirates. Arghh.

Lookie here! My daughter, Olivia, found a four-leaf clover yesterday. Lucky! She’s 5. I’m 35. I’ve NEVER found a four-leafer! However, I have been stung by a bee looking for one. It would seem the “Luck of the Irish” did not make it all the way to me. It would seem my ancestor’s kept it all for themselves.

I probably came from Leprechauns.

How cruel! I remember it like it was yesterday… Cute little Leprechaun part-Irish Jenny, looking for a lucky Shamrock… looking intently on skinned little Leprechaun part-Irish knees… and BZZZZZZZZT! Poor thing. Luck shcmuck. Look… now I’m Yiddish.

Let’s close with an Irish Prayer.

For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

Go Green!

———-

*Have you subscribed to my RSS feed? Go ahead, Feed Me.*

Kiss the Blarney Stone is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

I just have bits of things floating in my head. Some folks may think this fact clearly illuminates my need to be institutionalized, while others (in the medical community) would simply call them by the names my alternate personalities have given them – Eugenia, Felicia, Josephina Guadalupe Maria Carmen de la Cruz, Southern Bell, Tracy, Tina, Christi and Babs. Just kidding. See… random.

• My kids are happy.Whu the? Despite my best effort to ruin their childhoods and destroy their innate ability to be joyful – they are still happy! This is where I praise God for making kids light and soft and innocent and – have you ever wondered why we don’t remember most of our early childhood? It’s because we were bringing our parents to the base of all human existence. I am sure it’s best we don’t remember how they struggled to handle our most darling little escapades. God knew. He so knew… so he built in an “anti-memory” gland.
• The weather. Stinkin’ beautiful in the Pacific Northwest. Well, there are clouds today, but I am still high on the euphoria of wearing flip flips yesterday (long shorts and long sleeves) and the day before! True, we barely cleared 50 – so those folks in So. Cal. woulda been sporting parkas and wool socks. Not here. Weez tough folk ’round these parts, and if the sun is fully out – unhindered by a cloudy mass – even if it doesn’t feel warm, we are out there letting sun rays kill the mold on our pasty skin.
• Words. If you can’t tell by the first paragraph, I will state it here. I have Too. Many. Words. Pointless, silly, nonsense, sometimes troubling deep. Most of them float about in my head and I talk to myself often. Crazy conversations are always happening, in my head. Blogging has been a tremendous outlet. However, I am keenly aware I use too many words. In one of my writing classes in college my professor was ALWAYS cutting, cutting, cutting my pieces. I was always amazed that whatever she cut… worked. So, Dr. Huntley – if you’re reading this… I am sorry.
• Words. Reprise. See. I told you. I always have more to say. Like, I can’t do the Wordless Wednesday picture-thing that so many bloggers do. Why? I think it’s because I think I am so Clever Cleverson. My words are like a pretty necklace… or a well-placed candle on the mantle… a vase of lovely flowers, perhaps… yes? I cannot NOT add words. It’s like petting a cat the wrong way… like decaf coffee. Just wrong. How can I make fun of something and not use words? Were I wearing a hat, I’d be tipping it to those Wordless Wednesday-ers…
• Management. No one told me managing your children’s relationships with one another would be so flippin’ hard. Dude.
• Poop. Farts. Three kids. High-class household.
• Lucy – “What’s that smell?”
• Me – “I dunno.”
• Lucy – “Yucy.”

So many words so little time. I’m not gonna proof-read this puppy. The girls are taking a bath and from the sounds of it… the bathroom is also getting a bath. The joy… for me and for them – apparently.

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Random Pieces is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

Isn’t it funny that revolting (adj: ewww… gross) and revolting (v: rebel) are the same word? But different. But the same. One is an action, and the other describes… something that is not so much an action. Gosh it’s been a long time since I’ve diagramed a sentence.

Anywho. This came to mind, as I was revolting against my “resolution/schmezolution” NOT to pound fistfuls of chocolate chips during the hard times. It occurred to me during my revolting (v)… “This is revolting.” (adj).

Revolting is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

when you can only find one?

Discuss.

*Inspired by a true story…

What good is a "pair" of shoes… is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

It’s all about me! Why? Because I am the scepter-holder of this blog and I will it to be so… besides that, since when does one’s world not revolve around oneself? AND it’s my birthday month. *Nee-ner*

I like October.

I like that my birthday is this month.

I like a birthday MONTH as opposed to a DAY. I got to go dancing earlier this month as a birthday “warm-up” and will be escaping for a few days to be creative and hang out with my girlfriends this very weekend! Why am I embarrassed to admit I am a scrapbooker? At least I don’t wear puffy paint or wear my hair in buns, not that there is anything wrong with that….

I like the fall and putting up my fall decorations. I like vanilla and cinnamon-scented candles… especially the Woodwick kind. Mmmm.

I like eggnog lattes, and eggnog is back… and quite possibly a couple extra pounds. It’s worth it.

I like comments. I know you’re reading… why are you hiding? You know who you are…

I like love… Crap. I was trying to remember how to code a strike-through and forgot what I like love.

I don’t like that my brain is ill-functioning.

I like bun warmers. Specifically, the seat warmers in my new van and bun toaster shorts. OK, so I haven’t actually tried the bun toaster shorts, but I like the idea of them because I tend to have perpetually cold buns. Is that too personal?

I like the size 6 jeans and size 4 skirt I bought for my cold butt yesterday.

I don’t like that I think a size 6 at the Gap is still really a 10, and in the skirt – a 4 is really a 10. Actually, maybe I do like it… maybe I like it a lot.

Ummm, have I mentioned I like to dance? Right now, I am longing to jump back in to the Lindy-Hop. Prolly not gonna happen, but every time I turn on the Brian Setzer Orchestra or Big Six, man… my fever rises and my feet just wanna jump and jive.

I like my kids. I like my kids. I like my kids. I like my kids…. really, I like my kids…….

I love my kids.

I like Tavin Dillard.

I like to write. I sleep better when I’ve emptied my brain – either onto paper or typed it out. I feel like I’ve purged the good and the bad to make room in my head for the issues waiting to be let in. What a treasure trove of angst, confusion, love, joy and plain old silliness.

So… I’m curious… in celebration of my birthday, what do you like? Leave a comment or send me a link to your own post – about you… You don’t need to write what you like about me… it can be about you

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I like… is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

My children’s Little People Animal Sounds Farm toy is offensive. Each time I enter it’s rather generous circumference of sensitivity – it moos. At me… yes, AT me. I’m sure of it. It makes me feel a little self-conscious, aaaaaaaaand a little freaked out… I mean – it could either be a sick toymaker joke highlighting the fact I could stand to lose “few” (everything is about me)…OR it could be the spirit of a mistreated toy crying to be set free.

I mean, everything happens for a reason… right?

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Frankly, I'm offended. is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

I got ‘em.

Like having… One. Big. Eye. Reminiscent of Mike Wazowski – exacerbated by The Tumor Removal of ’05. I sometimes forget about it… until I see a picture or somethin’… like my new driver’s license picture. Hair: good. Expression: acceptable. Lip gloss: glossy. Eye #A: eye-like. Eye #B: E(ye)normous

Like… laughing after during chiropractic adjustments. I dunno. Maybe it’s just my “thing”. I really tried to conceal the laughter rising from within at my appointment today, to no avail. At least Dr. Chiro gets a good laugh in too. It’s good to bring laughter to others, right? Right?

Like… blogging now when a billion other things are mutating multiplying on my “to-do” list.

Like… unavoidable clumsiness. Times like the following events make me think I should go back to my ranch-camp nickname – “Crash”. I earned that name by falling off the arena fence – backwards, and then face planting in the same horse arena while playing soccer only an hour later… I digress.

• I spilled many beautiful blueberries on the produce floor at the local market today. I know – it’s shameful. Shameful. THEN I nearly spilled my golden goblet gloriously filled with an iced latte’.
• On Monday I scraped the skin off 2 knuckles carrying a basket of laundry through a doorway. I was too optimistic in my spatial reasoning as I negotiated the turn.
• On Monday I also slid down a slick grass hill with Lucy on my hip. I hucked my free arm out like a kick-stand… hoping to keep my butt dry and the kid safe. For a minute I was certain I broke my shoulder. I didn’t. I think that arm and one of Lucy’s legs broke my fall. We’re both OK.
• I hit my garbage can with my car 3 times as I was leaving my driveway this week – Three. Times. In. A. Row. Seriously. Jen? Do I hear you laughing?

I know there are more, but I have another issue. Hmmm… What was it… Oh yeah… memory. I can’t even go into that one. Mostly because I can’t recall.

Issues is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

]]> http://www.jennyonthespot.com/just-jenny/issues/feed/ 2 http://www.jennyonthespot.com/general/writers-block-and-the-chiropractor/ http://www.jennyonthespot.com/general/writers-block-and-the-chiropractor/#comments Mon, 09 Jul 2007 04:32:33 +0000 Jenny On the Spot http://www.jennyonthespot.com/2007/07/08/writers-block-and-the-chiropractor/ Writer's Block and the Chiropractor is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...
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So, when I go through a period of “blockage”, I realize I haven’t been looking at life from the right angle. I’m not talking about peering life from the edge of a 90-degree angle… I am discovering I need to look at life – it’s events, my family, my friends, and my community through the eyes of my inner-comedienne.

OK, so I’ll probably never get to join Amy Poehler on SNL as her co-anchor on Weekend Update or play a burnt-out soccer mom next to Maya Rudolph in Bronx Beat. That will just have to remain a dream… but Amy or Maya, if you’re reading… there’s a SAHM with a bachelor’s degree and a teaching credential in social studies who’s waiting for her big break in comedy… See how funny I am! Additionally, some swear that (OK, I may be embellishing the comparison) I may be a long-lost comedic twin of Cheri Oteri… Regardless, I am ready to resurrect the SNL cheerleaders… Go Spartans!

I digress.

Life is funny. There is so much to write about every day – if I view it from the right angle.

Let’s take my first chiropractic visit as an example. My story could simply relay the facts: I got my first adjustment. My back and neck were pop, pop, popped. Additionally, the ribs that were displaced due to a recent volleyball injury were moved closer to the location God intended when he created me.

That story isn’t interesting! And let’s face it, if a story doesn’t make you laugh or cry, or move you in an emotional direction… it just may not be a good story.

Here’s my try at telling a better story…

Ignorance is bliss… until ignorance gives way to revelation, which gives way to humiliation. I didn’t realize receiving a chiropractic adjustment was so physical. Pure ignorance. Had I known… I would not have worn a tank top that was cut a little lower than I typically wear (the sun was out and I was hoping to avoid the “farmer tan”). I went from lying on my front to back to front to back to stretching my arms above my head while lying on my back… all the while I tried to discreetly re-adjust my chosen attire… With. Both. Arms. Above. My. Head… Yeah. No. Even though it’s supposed to be in the upper 70′s tomorrow – I am planning on wearing a turtleneck to that appointment. Maybe two. Maybe a wetsuit.

Why the visit? Sports injury. Yeah, I know. I’m hardcore. Our friends created a rockin’ sand volleyball pit and I couldn’t resist to call of my long lost love. In high school I was called “Wild Woman”… I loved a good dig… no threat to my knees was big enough to keep me from an incredible save. But THIS was a net injury… I jumped up for the kill, while a man-sized teen went for the block. His body kept going through the net… his unrestrained momentum was fully absorbed by the right side of my trunk. He fell to ground. I stood stunned, but shook it off – for I was the old lady and needed to look tough in front of the youngies.

Back to the chiropractor (no pun intended)… my ribs were killing me! Apparently the altercation in the sand displaced a few ribs a bit. So, with each flip I moved as gracefully as a steam roller on a rock obstacle course… groaning and ouching each time I needed my right arm to help negotiate the flips from front to back. Thus, therefore and furthermore… this injury impeded my ability to maintain a personal comfort level of modesty in my very cute, but far-too-low-cut-tank.

The highlight of my visit was when the doctor revealed the results of my x-rays… he said my lower back was *ahem* “INCREDIBLE”.

I know.

Hey, a girl’s gotta angle a compliment from any angle she can… well, angle. I said, “Thank you. My lower back feels incredible.” No. I didn’t say that, but it would have been funny awkward if I did.

The end.

Soooooo, suddenly a regular (and humiliating) trip to the Dr. comes across as it played out in life… funny, embarrassing, entertaining, real. I know. It’s subjective, but I was entertained. Now, if you’ll excuse me… I need to go dig out my winter clothes and find a couple of turtlenecks.

Writer's Block and the Chiropractor is a post from: Jenny On the Spot * This is what I do...

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