Telling All?

It's been on my mind: Telling all that I know.

That would take about a minute and a half.

I am bringing this up because it seems to be a comment I hear from others about my blog. It always makes me laugh; although, at the same time, I am perplexed by their analogy. 

I wonder how some people can categorize my blogs as "telling all" when they don't know all that I know.

Telling all to them, I think, means that I am telling more than they would.

The BIG fear, mainly from the men, is that I will blog about private conversations we have had or personal problems they have that I know about.

The question is: What does telling all entail. 

Maybe we should just say: telling all, up to a point.

No one remembers everything they saw or did even if they were inclined to tell everything they know. 

Telling all means something different to everyone. It depends on how private a person wants to be compared to everyone else around them. Some people don't like to tell their age. Others don't mind telling their age, but are classified as someone who " tells all" by those who don't.

I think it could be the degree of confidence one has in oneself; or the degree of trust one has of others. All these issues coming together to reflect on how one wants the world to see them.

Since I have never been able to project myself, to actually see what others see; I have no clue how the world sees me; therefore, I am what I am.

Telling all for me comes from the kind of person I thrive to be: one that is true, first and foremost, to myself; without intentionally hurting others in the process.

What would be the point of trying to please others when everyone has different opinions and values in life. Of course, I try to make my friends and family happy, up to a point.

All my sins are already known to God so I have no need to tell others. 

I have no need to gossip about others; to try to make myself feel better about myself.  I like who I am. The best part of liking myself: I know I am not perfect and I know I will not try to be perfect because the pendulum will always swing back in the opposite direction. 

My blog: Thomas Jefferson's Hypocrisy 
"When we try to be too perfect; we find that the pendulum swings in the opposite direction with equal force, making us too flawed.... 


Life is a paradox.   
For every lighted side of an object; there is a dark side. 

What I have learned by reading  An American Sphinx: 
Thomas Jefferson:  In order to be as good as I should be with little hypocrisy in my life; I must keep my pendulum from swinging too far out in either direction.  
I will  neither  be extremely good; nor extremely bad; but only mediocre." 

When someone appears too good; you know they are hiding some demon inside them.  No one is that good.
We all have our fantasies and dark thoughts. I remember telling my husband about one of my fantasies years ago. He was so shocked; he didn't want to hear anymore. 

I would never in a million years want a fantasy to come true because it would never cross over into the real world with the same thrill; and, although, I could tell you about my fantasies;
 you would have to go into therapy, afterwards.  



When I don't tell all  it's because it would serve no purpose to tell all, other than terrifying you, knowing every thought that went through my head.  It even terrifies me: what goes through my head.

When I blog, my intent is to educate, inform and entertain; nothing more or less.
I blog because we each have a different perspective of life because of our life experiences.
I am not embarrassed of what I say about myself on the Light side. 


I would be mortified to tell you about my Dark side; and since, I am not trying to win a Pulitzer prize by going there; I am content to have my pendulum swing as close to the center as possible; without swinging too far to the good side nor too far to the bad side which means to me, that I will not 'tell all' that I know.

Montana Home pictures

The Montana house is coming along and should be finished in April. Although, there are some things we will do after the builder leaves since we can save an arm and a leg because there is a 12.5 contractor's percentage tied into the contract that we can eliminate.  We will do the landscaping later since we are in the woods anyway and don't plan on having a lawn. We will have the mirrors installed after the house is built through the Interior decorator's resources.
I am sure it will be a house that I will have to get use to, as it isn't anything that I envisioned, except for the large fireplace in the great room that I had pictured from day one.

Here are some pictures for now that the Interior Designer took for us. There are no pictures of the kitchen since it's the last to be done having the most work.

Main Floor

Hallway lamp over the stairs behind the Great Room fireplace.

Main Floor

Workers in hallway working on the stairs. Can see the garage room through the mud room. The open door to the powder room is across from the pantry.  I think the closed door in the hallway was the elevator, but now has heat ducts added. Remember that MISTAKE? 

Main Floor

Mark and Roy showing how the crown molding will look in the hallway; an ongoing battle between the Interior designer and contractor.  The crown molding will go there.

Main Floor

Great Room Fireplace. Stairs just behind it.

Great Room Fireplace door

Main Floor

Master Bedroom

Bathroom on the left with separate toilet room. 

Right: walk-in closet

Main Floor

Master bedroom preparing for molding

Two containers are shelving for walk-in closet (door). Fireplace on right.

The 2 Containers remind me of two coffins. I hope that's not an omen.

Soaking tub in Master bathroom. No jets. I figure, no extra pumping; no extra maintenance costs.

Master bathroom shower and tub. Frameless glass walls/door will be added or there will be lots of water on the floor.

Main Floor

Master bedroom view down the hallway. Shelves on the right wall. 

Foyer and Entry door at other end of hallway.

Just dawned on me that I could skateboard from the master bedroom straight out the front door.

Main Floor

Partial view of Master Bedroom and bath. Someone needs to clean those windows.   Probably ME!

Basement Floor

Finished tile work in one of the guest bathrooms. Needs frameless glass door.

Basement Floor

 Looking into open wine room. Right: the stairs coming down from behind Great Room fireplace. 

Left far door is mechanical room. 

Left (near) closed door became the mini bar room (once my elevator shaft) 

I got the shaft, alright; not the one I wanted.

Also in the basement, not shown: art studio, 2 guest rooms, small gym and theatre room. 

 I am saying small so your imagination won't run wild. The gym is small, in particular; as maybe, just maybe, 2 people can workout in it without hitting each other in the head with dumbbells.  

Above:  Speaker in the front porch roof of the Entry. I have no clue what it's for. Music? Speaking to strangers standing on my porch?  When I find out, I will let you know.

It Was a Good Week

Monday  February 21, 2011  9AM
    Kathleen is packing up her last things from her San Francisco apartment. In Southern California, I am up with the dog getting my coffee, Kristine is in bed sleeping and my husband is in Abu Dhabi at the International Weapons Show.
    During the day Kathleen and I Skype.  She holds her computer  camera up while Skyping her apartment so I see how empty it is. Later her friends will drop by to pick up the last of her odds and ends.
It has been two very good years for her in San Francisco, having left Los Angeles and her past retail job to pursue a career in Advertising.
    Kristine wakes up around 9:30 AM and heads to the store to buy a frame for the needle point she finished the day before.  
Tuesday 11 AM
    Kathleen takes the subway to the rental car place. She spends more time than I like talking to me on Skype.  She is getting out later than planned due to last minute errands. I keep telling her to stop talking. All that constant chatter slows her down.
She says," Mother!  I can multitask."
    The rental place gives her a smaller SUV than she expects and she ends up leaving some of the goodwill clothes, she is bringing home, on a street corner.
    It's a 7 to 8 hour drive from San Francisco to Yorba Linda. She had planned on leaving at 10 AM so she could be home by daylight, but that will never happen. Too much chatter getting out the door.
    Kristine leaves the house for Pasadena by 12:30 PM to begin a new baking class in breads. She is excited about her class because her teacher shows her respect and appreciates her talents.
It's an 1 1/2 hour drive for her one way and class starts at 2 PM.
Everyone is on the road, but me.    
     It's evening, Kristine gets home from school around 7 PM with her latest bread production of rolls. She says her rolls were not shiny enough for the teacher and she gets an 87 as her grade. She is disappointed that the teacher didn't tell her to glaze them. 
I keep telling her to review the recipes in her multitude of baking books so she will have a heads up on what to do. She should be smart enough to figure it out, but do my children listen to me?
With everything in consideration, she is feeling good about herself these days and decides to join Facebook. She downloads all her paintings in her facebook album. She has several friends from her college days on board now. She is ever conscious about her looks: bleaching her hair blond and going on a diet. 

Kristine going blond again. She once was a natural blond, but it darken with age.

      Naturally, it is not far from my mind that she will fall off this path of progress if she gets involved with the wrong friends or stops taking her medication.
The one noticeable difference in her behavior these days is her lack of boldness. She knows she is not invincible. She remembers all the bad things that happened to her when she was off medication or on the wrong medication. There was a time she did not believe in demons; but now that she has seen them; with that revelation, she has self-doubt. 
Unfortunately, too much self-doubt and the wrong advise can be destructive. However, she has the motivation to be successful.
     Kathleen drives up after 8 PM.  She is tired from driving 8 hours straight; she is still chatty. She has enough energy to unload the car. 
Wednesday  6 AM
    My alarm goes off. I tell Kathleen to get ready to leave. We have to take the rental car in by 
8:30 AM. I will probably led because my car has a navigation system and I have already mapped out the route.
She says, "I will led because you will get nervous and probably get lost. I have my phone navigator."
The navigator that brought her from San Francisco to home.
 
I have the same phone navigation she has, plus I have the directions.
I am thinking:  What the heck is she talking about? Just because I act like a scatterbrain with sweaty palms while driving like a bat out of hell; I always get them to their destination on time, if not earlier, in one piece. They know I have guardian angels protecting me.
 
But, naturally, I let my children do what they want; only to tell them later,
          "Why don't you listen to me when I have years of experience over you and I am still    
            standing?"    
I follow her in the rental Explorer; and naturally, in bumper to bumper California traffic, there is no way we can follow each other.
I don't worry as she disappears in front of me for we both know where we are going; after all, we both have navigators on our phones and in my car.  How lost can we get? 
 
I meet up with her 20 miles later as we exit the freeway to the rental company.
After we park, she says, "I looked everywhere for you. I even went in the carpool lane to see if you switched lanes."  
Guess who freaks out? 
I say, "I knew I would, eventually, catch up with you since we are going to the same place."
Not to mention, that my car has 'leave them in the dust' speed and I am like a magnet once I get attached to something.  Poor You!
We are home by 8:45 AM.
   
    At 10:30 AM,  Kathleen's best friend shows up with her new born baby girl. I am upstairs; I hear her exclamation remarks when Kristine gives the baby gift to her. A framed, personalized, needle point.

Kristine's needle point gift to Amelie

Kathleen, her friend, Jessie and little Amelie; one month old

 Kristine leaves for school at 12:30 PM. She will make Baguettes today.
         Kathleen, her friend and I are cooing and awing at the baby while Kathleen tries to repack her suitcases and get rid of half the stuff she drove down with that she can not take with her when she leaves tomorrow for New York. Talk about pushing it. She will be home only 2 days.
       For Goodwill, she ends up with 6 bags of clothes and one suitcase full of books. I am thankful for the tax deduction we will get which could put us in a whole new tax bracket considering the amount.
A few of her items are left at home, but the bulk of her existence, going to New York,  lies in two 50 pound suitcases and one box, to be shipped later.
    I am very proud of her taking the initiative to go to another city to advance her career. I remember when she decided to continue her education in advertising, as an account planner; she packed her bags for San Francisco.  At that time, she only had one acquaintance in San Francisco. She had started out with an American friend, but branched out with a British friend; then along came a New Zealander, an Italian, an Australian and now it's a whole group of Swedes. It must be the accent.
    
She has a number of friends in New York City and San Francisco with connections in the advertising world. She can take her 2 final advertising classes online while she interns in NYC; hoping to graduate in May 2011.
    Kristine is home at 7:15 PM with her baguettes. The teacher gave her a 100 points while informing the class that Kristine made the only 100 points for her baguettes because it was better than what she could have done herself.
    Just the week before, when Kristine made her first pizza, it looked more like a decorated fruit tart with the tomatoes lined around the outer circle, the goat cheese in the center and 3 basil leaves neatly placed in the center. The teacher was not impressed with the pizza topping, although the bread came out nicely.
After seeing it myself, I asked Kristine, "Have you ever had a pizza? Do you  know what a pizza looks like?"  She laughed.  
 Thursday 4PM
    Their dad arrives home from Abu Dhabi just in time to spend a few hours with Kathleen before her permanent move to NYC. He has been gone for over 3 weeks crisscrossing the country, Europe and Asia.
    Kristine arrives from school a few hours later and tells us about her day.
Her therapist saw her artwork on facebook and gave her the name of an organization called NARSADA that reproduces the artwork of schizo-affective people, onto greeting cards and posters.
In fact, I have sent out NARSADA cards myself, not thinking about asking Kristine about it. 
It will be another new beginning for her to get her artwork out there. 
To top off her day, while watching her bake, her culinary teacher made a comment, " I have noticed the way you prepare your breads with great detail and I think you will go far."
Assuming, she means her career in baking.
    It's 8:00 PM and I am taking Kathleen to the airport.  As we drive up, I notice  there is just enough room between two parallel parked cars in the unloading zone; that is, if I park diagonally between them.  I need to get Kathleen as close as I can to the baggage guys on the sidewalk because she has too many things to carry.
Kathleen yells, "Mom, STOP! You are going to drive onto the sidewalk!"
I am thinking: What sidewalk? There is no curb.
Because there is no curb, I can just drive into the building, but I do stop as some people on the sidewalk turn to look at my headlights shining on them.
 
I laugh, knowing that I am freaking out my daughter and knowing that I won't go that far; but Kathleen always fears of what her mother will do; as most people I know do.   It makes me laugh.
We both jump out of the car to get the bags.
Kathleen yells, "Don't get the bags, they are too heavy." 
But I don't listen.
Holding a 9 pound baby for 2 hours was far more tiring on my arm muscles than lifting a 50 pound bag for 2 minutes. I pull one bag to the baggage guy and she pulls the other. She thanks me for all my help. We kiss goodbye.
    I still can't believe that in a month's time, she decided to move from San Francisco to New York City and did it in one week.
                                       
It was a good week,  full of positive events and feelings. 
The stars must have been aligned just right.