Moving Day

Well, its official.  I have moved my blog to a lovely new virtual home.  Please come by and visit me at Cleverly Molli sometime.

I feel like I'm playing with the big kids now. I'm not shutting this site down, and may post something here from time to time.  But my main focus will be the new site.

To all {3} of you who have occasionally read my posts, I am very grateful.  This has been a wonderful experience and I am ready to kick it up to the next level.

Here goes nothing!

~Mollianne

Let me introduce myself!

It's BLISS!  A real-live-grown-up conference and I'm going!  I'm so excited.  Everyone is writing to introduce themselves and I thought I'd join in {since I'm pretending to be a blogger}. So...here I am. 

It's me! I need to get rid of that red eye, dont' I? 

Hi! I'm Mollianne. Welcome to MolliWorld, where I am the Queen of all I survey{mostly an early 60s split-level in dire need of remodeling...on my extended list of things I'll get to someday}. I'm a 50-something career homemaker who finds myself sitting behind a desk 40 hours a week wondering why I'm not at home in Camelot {yes...I live in Camelot. Don't you just love it?}! 

The amazing Rocket Man

I am deliriously, happily and blissfully married to the amazing Rocket Man {he's a real-live-honest-to-goodness Rocket Engineer y'all!} and we have 4 children {1 son, 3 daughters}between us, all grown and gone. We're happily-ever-aftering here in the Camelot subdivision of Rocket City, USA. We love our quasi-empty next and the grandsons {The Boys Fantastic- Mac Attack and Boy Wonder} who spend their weekends with us.  Adolescent grandsons. Teenagers.  Boys, no less.  The stench aroma gets strong at times.

Rocket Man is coming with me to BlissDom.  He's also known as The Adult Supervision.  For some reason... he thinks I require such.  Mostly, he'll be in the room guarding the remote control against anyone who might try to steal it from the hotel.  Care and handling of a television remote control is one of the many things at which he excels.

The Boys Fantastic, Boy Wonder and Mac Attack

I work at The Church House as the Clergy Administrator {fancy title for preacher's secretary} and mostly love what I do there. When I'm not doing that {and sometimes when I am} I find plenty to do. I sing. I read. I write. I occasionally make cards. I bake. I cook. I take pictures. I knit a little. I think. I think a lot.  But don't worry.  I'm professionally trained at thinking. My degree is in Philosophy.

I got a .357 magnum for Christmas last year and I named it The Vera {I store it in a Vera Bradley backpack in my closet}. I think I'm very big now that I have my very own revolver.

Mollianne and The Vera

Rocket Man is my biggest hobby and I find myself lured to the couch to watch sporting events of all sorts just to sit next to him. We spend time together in the garage while he works on his cars {a 75 Camaro, a 65 Mustang and a 64 Falcon}. I'm working on a Junior Mechanic Merit Badge by fetching tools and turning wrenches. Sometimes, he even lets me play with the power tools!  We recently purchased a {new to us}motorcycle, so we'll be riding the wind when the weather warms up a bit, and once the necessary repairs are done.

I helped rotate the tires!

I have some sort of undiagnosed autoimmune deal going on that has stumped doctors at Vanderbilt, UAB and the Mayo Clinic.  The best theory takes it back to a story titled, "Rabies is Always Fatal" in which we woke up to a bat circling our bed one night.  We survived.  The bat did not.  He did NOT have rabies, which we found out after taking 3 rabies shots.  Anyway, I have goofy symptoms and every few months take IV steroid infusion to try to keep the symptoms at bay.  I've just come off a round, so I'll still be on a steroid high when we arrive next week.  I'm bringing my dancing shoes.  I know something about chronic illness, which I will occasionally write about.

In the midst of all of that, we manage to find a lot of things to laugh about. I suspect at the heart of my things... I'm just easily amused. Those are the things that I write about here. I'm glad that you stopped by and hope that you have a wonderful time at BissDom!  And I hope I get to hug your neck.  Come back anytime. I'll try to always make it worth your while.

Oh, just for the record...and because I never  seldom  don't often do things the way other {maybe more normal} people do...I'm launching a beautiful new home for my blog. The design is beautiful and I can't wait to share that space.  Hopefully after I meet all y'all at BlissDom I'll be launching.  So, this isn't going to be my address forever.  My new home, coming soon to a URL near you will be www.cleverlymolli.com  I'll still be masquerading as a responsible adult just under the name of Cleverly Molli.

I can't wait to meet all y'all.  I have made lists, read all I can find bout BlissDom and really!  I'm ready to come and make friends, rock babies {one grandmother who would LOVE to rock your baby coming right up!}, exchange twitter handles {I'm @ CleverlyMolli} swap business cards and be part of this wonderful community. 

Till then, I'm blowing you kisses from Camelot!

~Mollianne

I love smooching with the Rocket Man!

Photo by the Amazing Melissa Tash of

 Spoiled Rotten Photography

Real {5 minute friday}

Its Friday and one of my favorite things in the blogosphere...5 Minute Friday over at The Gypsy Mama. Where we set a timer, write for 5 minutes on a specific topic with no rewrites, no edits. Just words pouring from our hearts through our fingers onto the screen. Sometimes its raw, oftentimes poignant, always a good exercise.


The prompt: Real.
Go

Today, real is about doing something I loathe doing.  Its about being a grown up and putting on those big girl panties and presenting my self and my veins at the infusion center for the first of 5 days of IV steroid infusions.  1000 mg a day.

Real is the war that will take place in my body as the steroids do battle with antigens that are attacking my body.  Real is the flush I will feel within 24 hours of the first drip that will remain uncomfortably there for several days.  From my chest to my scalp.  Real is the metallic taste of pennies that will be in my mouth for the next week.  Real is the loss of those things I guard carefully when I'm not full of antigen-fighting chemicals.  Real is the embarassment I will feel after the fact when I've blurted out something I really wish I hadn't.

Real is the love and care that my Rocket Man will shower upon me.  Real is the surrender I make to let him 'be the boss of me' for the next days.  Real is the struggle to not be a burden to him.  Real is this journey we are on that begin with a bat flying in our bedroom one night, almost 7 years ago and the myriad of medical tests and the doctors shaking their heads and telling me I'm interesting.  Real is the offering up of my veins and my body and the hope I cling to that someday, the treatment will overcome whatever is wrong with me and I will be whole. 

Real is the love of my Savior who walks this path with me and keeps me in His care.  That part of my real is what will give me the courage to walk into the clinic and roll up my sleve, smiling at the nurse to encourage her as she sticks the garden hose into my vein and administers the drip.  Real.  Oh, yes.  Its real.

Stop.

~Mollianne

Dichotomy

Dichotomy

Instrumental music sweetly floating through the speakers

Sirens urgently screaming out on the street

Life is full of the sweetly floating and the urgently screaming

Each wanting my attention

Each pulling me

Excuse me, can anyone help?

Help figure out which parts of the sweetly floating

and the urgently screaming

I should combine to have a well ordered life? 

Only I can decide to which I will attend

How much each will have my ear, my voice, my heart  and my time

My life will reflect those choices

I will become the sum of those choices

I must choose wisely

                         ~Mollianne



Roar {5 minute Friday}

Its Friday and one of my favorite things in the blogosphere...5 Minute Friday over at The Gypsy Mama. Where we set a timer, write for 5 minutes on a specific topic with no rewrites, no edits. Just words pouring from our hearts through our fingers onto the screen. Sometimes its raw, oftentimes poignant, always a good exercise. 

The Prompt:  Roar
Go!

I hear it.

Behind me.

Stealth as it creeps.

I freeze. 

Anticipate. 

Trying  to still the drum of my heart as it pounds in my chest.

 Don’t breathe, Molli. 

Be still, Molli. 

Maybe it will go away. 

Dear Lord, make it go away. 

It creeps closer.

 Even closer, until I can smell its vile breath as it exhales.

 I stand frozen.

 Anticipating.

Unable to move.

Certain that it is about to envelope me.

It does.

With a mighty roar, I am immersed in fear.

And I fall to my knees as I am powerless to fight it.

 I whisper a faint prayer to my Father.

He is able to conquer all fear. 

He comes. 

He comes with an even greater and mightier roar.

My Savior and Redeemer comes.

He roars and fear is gone. 

Oh, how I love His roar.

Roar over me, Jehovah God.

Roar around me.

Roar through me.

Let me reverberate with the presence of your roar.

Stop

~Mollianne



In which I admit what a coward I really am

2012

Like...Wow!

WOW!!

Just WOW!

I will celebrate my 55th birthday this year.

Scary stuff.

And this year, this mid-way-from 50-to-60 year, I am choosing to dare a bit more. Not to cling so tightly to the things that are certain and take a few risks. To be a bit more vulnerable.  It makes my heart beat faster just to type those words.

My blood pressure is going up by the moment.

When I was in my 30s, I used to admire women who had attained the 50+ year status. I noticed that they seemed to have a secret.  That they seemed more self assured.  Sort of like they had already had so much of the rotten stuff of life thrown at them that they knew...they recognized...they were aware of what was really important.

I was in awe.

Now that I am there, firmly anchored in the middle of my 50s decade and I wonder how I missed having that sort of self assurance.  Because I am still as full of self doubt and insecurity as I ever was. 

I thought it would just come to me. 

That it was in the vitamins I take now

that I am a woman over 50.

It has not.

When I was in college...back in my 30s (I can't seem to do anything the normal way), I had a professor who would write the scariest notes on my essays.  He told me that my ideas and arguments were good and sound.  He challenged me, however, to let go of whatever it was I was holding onto, to release my reserve. 

Ha!  I wasn't about to let go.  Life was dangerous then.

I AM, however, going to try.

I don't feel very big today.

I feel little and forlorn and afraid.

I have a wonderful new blog space.  The design is just beautiful and I think it suits me.  It is pristine and waiting for words and pictures.  And I'm sitting on it, because I'm afraid I will somehow manage to mess it up.  That it won't soar and that it will be just one more place that I give most of what I have to offer, but leave a portion behind...safely held close behind a quickly flashed smile and a smart remark. Which is my favorite mask.

I'm scared and I feel guilty

for having such a beautiful design

and not doing anything with it.

I feel unworthy.

I'm still not sure when I'm going to sully the beautiful virtual home with my messy self, but it is going to be soon.  Very soon.  Well, sometime in the next month or so.  Maybe.  And I'm going to a blog conference in February.  To see how to do it right.  I want to do it right. 

Quite frankly, I am going to procrastinate a little longer.

I do that very well.

In the meantime, I'm going to put myself out there. 

I dabble in poetry.  I seldom/never show anyone what I write.  Really.  When I die, my children will probably find all sorts of little odes and free verse and other nonsense scribbled on pieces of paper,  stashed in books, drawers, boxes, etc.  And they will roll their eyes.

So, in a act that is for me, one of EXTREME courage, I'm going to share a poem with you. All 3 of you who read this. I'm not even going to preface it with negative stuff, like its probably not any good, etc.  I'm not.

Here goes.

Eyes squinched shut, tightly...check!

Emergency numbers close by...check!

Paper bag to breathe in should I hyperventilate...check!

Poem copied and ready to paste...check!

3....2....1....I think I'm gonna be sick!

The Dance

Like puzzle pieces, our limbs intertwine

Your knee fitting perfectly into the bend of my leg

Your long leg draped securely over mine which is short

Arms wrapped

Hands held

Gentle breath blowing across my neck

My hair in your face, tickling your cheek

A nighttime dance we perfect in our slumber

An unconscious reaching out for each other

Waking to the warm comfort of love that creates the blissful dance

My first thought a calculation of the hours

Until the dance will begin again

                                                              ~Mollianne 12/11

Only the Beginning

My favorite part of Christmas is the afterglow.

I know folks who are anxious to take down their tree and put all the decorations away as soon as the last gift is unwrapped.   I prefer to linger among the ornaments and manger scenes as long as I can.  Once the hurry and scurry of the season are gone I often find myself sitting quietly with a cup of coffee and a leftover Christmas morsel in the glow of twinkle lights on a tree, listening to the familiar and beloved hymns of adoration. 

I pick up a treasured choir child figurine that belonged to my Grandmother.  She has rhinestone eyes, a perfectly shaped ‘oh’ mouth and a head that was glued back on 50 years ago. I cherish that figurine and the memories of Christmas cookies at Neenie’s table.

My eyes fall on the various ornaments that my children, stepchildren and grandchildren made and I stop to pray for them, asking God’s blessings upon them. 

I see a stray piece of wrapping paper that has not yet made it to the trash, and I am thankful for our abundance and the many gifts we receive that are not wrapped prettily with paper and ribbon. The intangible things of our lives.

I hold cards from friends and family who are scattered far and wide and I am in awe of such a wide range of people who are part of our lives. 

All these things and many more catch my attention.  But the one thing that I come back to again and again is the manger with the Babe of Bethlehem.  Placed intentionally where the shadow of a cross falls across it.  To remind me that the joy of His birth is only the beginning.  Lent is just around the corner…and Easter is coming!