Mondegreen

Merriam-Webster editors are considering the word mondegreen for entry in the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

mondegreen noun : [from the mishearing in a Scottish ballad of "laid him on the green" as "Lady Mondegreen"] : a word or phrase that results from a mishearing of something said or sung <”very close veins” is a mondegreen of “varicose veins”>

Excellent addition! I could blame kids as the sole users of mondegreens (which they do to often hysterical results). However, I have to admit to singing along to songs using the wrong lyrics. Musicians need to sing more clearly and not mumble!

I learned about this new word from the Merriam-Webster monthly online newsletter available to subscribers. I’m a writer and a grammar nut, so of course I subscribe to the Unabridged edition. Even if you’re more of a casual dictionary user, I recommend you consider subscribing to either the Collegiate or Unabridged editions. The fees are modest and either option provides access to invaluable resources not available for free on the Internet.

Finding My Birth Mother: The Story So Far

I was adopted as a baby and have known I was adopted for as long as I can remember. My parents couldn’t have children and adopted me and then my sister four years later. Growing up, I occasionally thought about searching for my birth mother, but I never had this burning ache. I was curious, more than anything.

In my early 20s, I contacted the county social services agency from which I was adopted. The brown envelope of informational materials sat in my filing cabinet for more than a decade. I contacted the agency again in 2005 and was told there was a four-month waiting period before I could talk to a case worker. I hesitated for more than a year before I finally mailed in my $250 fee. My search officially started in April 2006.

Two months later, my case worker called to reveal non-identifying information from my file. For 71 minutes, I wrote down pages of notes about my heritage, what my birth mother revealed to her intake worker, health concerns the doctor had about me at my birth, and what my foster mom said about my early months. I’ve never had a more surreal conversation. It was my life, but one that I had never known.

This past July, my case worker called again. She had found my birth mother and would try and reach her. I had to wait several days before my case worker called back with the results. … She had talked to her. BAM! She was alive. That was the first thought that flooded my brain. Isn’t that weird? She’s only in her late 50s, but I must have feared that I missed my window to find her. BAM! BAM! She now knows I’m looking for her. Holy shit. This is really real!

My birth mother was shocked by the call. She apparently hadn’t imagined that I would try to find her. I had asked my case worker to share my concerns about the search and how much I respect my birth mother’s feelings. I’m incredibly nervous about what my outreach will do to her. It can be a traumatic experience, but I want to do anything I can to minimize the stress or anxiety that she may be feeling. My case worker said that my birth mother was relieved by my concerns and seemed to appreciate the thoughtfulness I’m giving to the process. In the end, though, my birth mother wasn’t ready to receive any materials from my case worker. However, she did ask if I lived near her. Since I hadn’t explicitly given my case worker permission to share this information, my case worker wouldn’t say. That ended up being a good thing since it showed that we’re serious about confidentiality. My case worker won’t tell me anything my birth mother doesn’t allow and vice versa. My case worker did tell me that we sound a lot a like, both in voice tone and vocal mannerisms. Double holy shit!

It’s been almost three months without any contact. I talked to my case worker today and asked how we should proceed. She left the decision in my hands, but recommended that we give my birth mother more time. As I look back on how long it took me to get started, I know that I must be patient. We decided to wait until January before my case worker will make contact again. By then, six months will have passed and the holidays will be over. I want to move cautiously as well. I want my birth mother and I both to be sure of each step before we proceed. Once we know who we are, there’s no turning back. Come January, I want my case worker to try again and share my first name with my birth mother. I want to see if she’d be willing to accept a short letter from me. I’ve drafted this letter over and over again during this process and still am not sure what I want to stay. Buy maybe by then, it will become clearer for both of us.

Minnesota Energy Challenge

News outlets, websites and documentaries are spreading the word about carbon footprints and saving energy. It’s pretty easy these days to get advice on how to live a little greener. This is great, but I already have the warm and fuzzies from helping mother earth. I want to see the bottom line too. Exactly how many pounds of carbon will I reduce and how much moola will I save if I do X or not do Y?

Minnesota residents can get the facts by taking the Minnesota Energy Challenge. I like this program for a number of reasons.

• It adds accountability by asking you to commit to concrete actions.
• It builds community by grouping the results of your efforts with a city, neighborhood, church, school, business or other organizations of your choice.
• It shows the benefits of your current actions.

My current annual household co2 emissions are 28,168 pounds at an energy cost of $2,193. Based on my new commitments, I will save $191 and reduce my co2 output by 1770 pounds annually.

I invite my fellow Minnesotans to join the challenge. What are your results?

Additional Resources:

• EPA’s Personal Emissions Calculator – includes home energy, transportation and waste
• Offset Your Emissions – learn how to offset the emissions that you do produce

Dance With the Moon

I’ve fought against my natural sleep rhythms for decades. Who knows why. Societal pressures, the early bird gets the worm, corporate acceptance, my spouse’s patterns. It really doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I’m finally taking a stand.

I’M STILL A GOOD PERSON
EVEN THOUGH I LIKE TO GET UP AFTER 9 AM (OR SO).

(Whew!)

Life was great during my first job out of college where I worked as a desktop publisher at Arthur Andersen. My hours were Sunday through Thursday from 1 p.m. to 10 p.m. It wasn’t the best job (I was fired for “insubordination” after a year and a half), but the schedule was ideal while it lasted.

After that experience, all of my other jobs had the more traditional day-time hours. As I climbed the corporate ladder, my roles allowed more flexibility, including being able to work from home occasionally. But still, I needed to get at it by 9 a.m. and often earlier for those awful morning meetings.

I’m now a freelance writer working from a home office. I’m my own boss. So why was I still forcing myself (unsuccessfully) to rise early and shine? I took 6:15 a.m. yoga classes twice a week, set my alarm for 7 a.m. the rest of the time. I struggled.

Then I read Peter Bowerman’s, The Well-Fed Writer, where he confessed his night owl nature.

10:06 a.m. The phone rings. It’s one of my clients getting back to me on some ad copy I faxed them late the night before. My spoon is poised over my just-poured-the-milk-in bowl of cereal as she asks if I can go over a few revisions. Getting up from the dining room table and heading north to my upstairs office, I hedge briefly, even letting a tiny whine escape my white-mustachioed lips.

Should I come out of the closet finally? Living this lie has become unbearable…. Taking a deep breath, I begin….

So, fellow nocturns (new word), stand firm and be proud. And remember: To rise with the sun is human, but to dance with the moon is divine.

Amen!

Honor the Ones You Live With

I can be somewhat self absorbed and fritter away hours on both meaningful and meaningless activities. My two dogs wait for me to notice them and eventually will try to catch my attention. Benson will jump up on me or Daisy will do her impatient sneeze gesture.

When Brian comes home from work or someplace, I don’t always acknowledge him either. I’m often so wrapped up in whatever I’m doing that I don’t want to interrupt “it” by giving Brian more than a quick hello (if even that). This hasn’t been a conscious activity, but it dawned on me how much you can honor a relationship by actively pausing, focusing and reconnecting.

When I was a growing up, I felt a need to tell my mom about all the nuances of my day as soon as I got home from school. My mom worked at a gift shop, but always took my afternoon calls. I know it must have been tedious for her to listen to my stories with their endless details. I’m sure she wasn’t always patient, but looking back, I don’t remember her trying to skirt the calls. She advised, consoled me and listened.

Adults, children (and pets too) need that time to reconnect when being away from each other. It sometimes only takes a few minutes, but look how this time expresses your love and caring.

With this revelation, Brian better not expect that I’ll run to the door with a fresh cocktail in hand when he comes home (as if!). And I’ll probably still struggle with my “I just need a few more minutes” obsessiveness with whatever I’m doing. But I hope my brain will get a mental shove, and I will now stop, get up and honor the ones I love with my attention.

Good Neighbors

Do you know your neighbors? I’m always surprised when my friends tell me that they don’t. My husband and I  live in a nice working class neighborhood in a fairly large metropolitan area. Within a square mile of our home, real estate prices range from $200,000 up to beau coup bucks (aka million dollar mansions). No matter how much the houses are worth, it’s tough to really know what the neighbors are like until you’re living among them.

Brian and I must have hit lucky sevens when we bought our house a few years ago, because we landed into a social  neighborhood and know almost everyone on the alleyway (plus quite a few on adjacent streets). By knowing people, I don’t mean nod your head hello before pulling into the garage. We really know these folks and consider many to be good friends. We get together to talk, hang out, watch sports, build bonfires, play with the kids and dogs, take walks … oh yeah, and drink a little too. Friday nights have turned into a regular informal get-together in someone’s garage. And don’t forget Sunday Viking’s games and many Twins’ games too.

What’s your neighborhood like?

Emerging Theme

I’ve spent a fair amount of time noodling around theme ideas for blue sky shining, both in my subconscious and on paper. Pundits wisely suggest that bloggers write about something they’re passionate about. Otherwise, it’s easy to let a blog atrophy. I have a lot of interests, so it’s been challenging to figure out how to bring them all together. Women’s issues and feminism, aviation, green living and sustainability, food and cooking, travel, technology and gadgets, and oh so much more. How can I choose??

And through this whole process, I have realized that I’m drawn to stories about people, places, and animals that make it so fun to be alive, to say “wow!” We’re bombarded with such ugliness most everywhere. Sometimes it feels like we’re not making any progress against the really big problems in the world. But we are in both small and grand ways. I think it’s worth looking around an unfamiliar corner, into a different doorway, under a misshapen rock — or even in one’s own familiar backyard. Who knows what we may find and how that someone or something can affect us.

Ultimately, blue sky shining is about celebrating the sunny side of life. Maybe we’ll smirk, chuckle, be inspired … or just feel happy.

Pets as Punching Bags and Life Lines

It’s difficult to see blue skies when reading about human cruelty to animals. The Star Tribune yesterday reported that a Morgan show horse named Rose was intentionally poisoned (she received a total blood infusion and will thankfully recover). Just a year ago, this family lost a horse when it choked itself to death after someone tied it to a tree during a rainstorm. A slew of cruel acts to dogs, cats, birds and other pets have made the paper over the past year. I’m sure many more remain unreported.

I’m the kind of person whose eyes tear during sappy dog food commercials. Remember the television spot that featured a golden retriever named Casey? We saw her learning to climb stairs as a puppy, then bounding up them as a middle-aged dog, and finally slowly making her way to “mom” as a senior. What a heart wrencher.

I also welled up when I read a positive story about animals in the same issue of the Strib. A training program in St. Paul pairs young delinquents with “unplaceable” dogs. The partnership between Home for Life and Boys Totem Town shows what remarkable changes can occur when people interact with animals. These boys learn empathy, compassion, patience, gentleness, hopefulness and more — lessons probably missing from their formative years. These animals get love and respect, and for some, a new life as trained therapy dogs. Now that’s blue skies.