The Musings of Beautiful Chaos

This blog has been moved

Thanks to Chris for showing me the light - I hate you now (this is a lot of work!) but I will love you later:)

If you have this blog on your blogroll - THANKS SO MUCH!  YOU ARE AWESOME! Now, change it please:)

I will be moving posts over and reconnecting link - so if you get another trackback...my apologies.

My new and improved www.aprilgroves.com website now houses all the great information from before (or at least it will) plus both blogs and a few new additions. Please reconnect your links to those appropriate pages...

Obviously www.aprilgroves.com is the homepage.

http://www.aprilgroves.com/makinglifeworkforyou/ is the new home of the Making Life Work for You blog

http://www.aprilgroves.com/beautifulchaos/ is the new home for My Beautiful Chaos.

Thanks!!  Can't wait to see you at my new home...maybe we should have a house warming party!

Am I just crazy?

...or is everybody else?  Sometimes I really don't know. Is it a "silent majority" thing and I am the only loud mouth, or am I really in the minority? Are my opinions really that out in left field?

Feels like a rant is coming on and you, my dear friends, will have to excuse me while I try to stay on track.  This frustration is not one thing, but many things...this uniform thing is just the straw that broke the camel's back.

The school system here is attempting to implement a uniform policy.  We had this when we lived in Chicago and it was fantastic. Mark and I both felt that if we had uniforms in school, we would have hated it, and our lives would have been much easier. However, some parents don't feel this way and that's okay. But, OMG (to use the cool, hip, text abbreviation) can we get over it already! Reading the newspaper, you would think Stalin was running the board and Hitler was poised to take over. I don't get it. My kids have enough to deal with in their young lives with society being the way it is. Any attempt to remove some of those distractions while they are attempting to get an education is fine by me.

They say that the problem would be solved if the administration would just enforce the current dress code.  Are you kidding? Have any of you been shopping for school age girls lately? Now, I can't speak to the boys, because I don't have any, but girls I got and it is near impossible. What does my 5 year old or my 10 year old need with halter tops, short shorts, and platform shoes to round out the outfit? Sure, you can get them long pants and then contend with the provocative remarks the manufactures insist on pasting across the butt. That's much better. You are basically limited to jeans, capris, and t-shirts (funny, sounds like a uniform policy). This is fine with me until I am getting the kids ready for school or shopping in the mall and I have to hear for the eleventy billionth time about what so and so's mom will let them wear, buy, scout around town in.  No thank you. Get up, get breakfast, brush your teeth, and grab one of the approved uniforms that will be very much the same as anything else anybody else has on. Bypass the drama and get on to the job at hand - getting your education.

Speaking of the job at hand, a lot of jobs require a uniform, or, at the very least, a required manner of dress. Are they oppressive and limiting free expression of their employees?  Are we going to bash the boards of these companies for their abusive practices? No. We are probably working for them, collecting a paycheck, and happy for it.

I could go on. There are lots of things in the media that are absolutely driving me crazy - taxes, immigration, Iraq, and the list goes on.  But, I won't. I will say this and be done. Don't be a shallow thinker. Take opinions out to their logical conclusion. Pay attention to the society around you and compare it to what the media says society is. If you hear it on the news, don't listen to what they say, figure out what they mean - it is all too often two different things.

Maybe I am wrong...

One of my dear girlfriends is a photographer. A very good photographer. Together with her husband, Diana Nash shoots some of the best pictures I have ever seen.

A couple of moths ago, she had a blog post about a new photo session called "dress trashing."  Sometime after the wedding, after the dress has fulfilled its purpose, instead of shrink wrapping it and putting it somewhere in your closet for "sentimental value," Diana asks you to put it back on. Then, she takes pictures.  These are not your clean pictures. These are your laying in a pile of leaves, climbing up a tree, wading in the water at the beach pictures.

Well, as you can imagine, if you know me at all, I LOVE the idea and the pictures were fantastic! Very sexy and artistic - and what woman doesn't want to be photographed as sexy and artist? I have mentioned it a few times to a few people and I have been surprised. The response is about 50/50. While some feel the way I do, I was surprised at the number of people who just thought it was a bad idea. It seems that some still hold on to the idea that their daughter will want to, in twenty, thirty years, unshrink wrap the dress and wear it in their own wedding. While I guess that is a possibility, it seems uncommon. Most brides insist on a new dress that they pick out.

I dunno - I thought the whole dress trashing bit was a phenom of an idea. Of course, I must admit, I have never actually owned or had on a wedding dress. But, I can't help but think that the dress in the leaves did that girl a whole lot better than the shrink wrap.

But, I guess I could be wrong...

Bill, Rocky, and Me

Who knew?  Not me! I have been listening, watching, and reading Bill O'Reily for quite some time now.  I have finally decided to subscribe to the newsletter as I am not in my car as much as I once was.  Meander a bit through the site to see what I can see.  Guess what!  Rocky is on Bill's list of favorite movies:) 

I agree with Bill a lot of the time - but this is dead on!

Things people will put on the Internet

The internet is a wondrous thing - thanks, Mr. Gore!  The plethora of information is incredible. At any time of the day or night, you can buy, watch, read, look, or listen to practically anything.

However, it still amazes me what people will put on the internet. Like only the people who will appreciate their "sense of humor" or "personality will see it.  Haven't we learned this is not the case?

Now, I understand that blogs are supposed to be the venue for people to "bear their soul in honesty." But really, would you walk around the mall naked? Probably not. Posting anything and everything on a website is worse. At least in the mall you have a pretty good idea who is looking at your bare behind. In cyberspace, people can come and go in anonymity. Who knows who is reading about your drunken endeavors, your lunatic rantings, your secret confessionals, and your odd fetishes?

I know who - employers, college professors, colleagues, parents, children, and crazy people.

Try this, google your name and see what comes up. Why? Because people you don't know do it al the time. It has become a common practice of employers as a means to check you out. And, I am certain that the singles do it too when they meet a new somebody.

I am all for free speech, and I love to blog - just remember that other folks are getting a free read. How much do you really want just anybody to know?

The Newest Member of my Family

As if I didn't have enough to do, I have adopted a new member into our all ready expanded family. I don't know why.  Guess I am just as obsessed as everyone else.  They are addictive.

Madison got two for her birthday.  Savannah wanted one of her own.  We spent the better part of a Friday scouring Savannah - nobody had one. Fortunately, Auntie Jennifer had "an extra."  I guess it is common to get more than one. The family grows.

Heard there was a rare place in town that had many of them left to adopt.  So, off I went.  I had to have one for my own.

I introduce to you, Froggy, the Tree Frog, proud member of the Webkinz race and now a member of my family.  I have the adoption certificate to prove it!

 

Have to go play Webkinz games now, so that I can make Kinz Cash, so I can feed and clothe my newest addition. 'Cause there's not enough to do during the day:)

My Beautiful Chaos

"Chaos often breeds life, when order breeds habit."  

-    Henry Adams,  The Education of Henry Adams

I have been asked about my tagline "Beautiful Chaos."  Where it comes from and what it means.  It was born during a conversation with a girlfriend and is the perfect definition of my wonderful life. And I love explaining it and refuse to apologize for it.

I look down at my daily planner, cross check it with the one on my desk, then make sure I haven’t missed something on my Outlook. First thing that crosses my mind as the coffee touches my lips – “yeah, right.”

Some may think it is a defeatist attitude to start the day knowing that 10% of your “to do list” will still be left to do tomorrow. Not me. I am a busy woman with lots of priorities. I will get to them all – eventually. I will leave the “performance guilt” for somebody else.

My husband adores me, my children think I’m the best, my friends depend on me, and my company regards me as valuable. Who cares if I failed to chart the steps or follow the action plan? So what if there was a day (or week) my house was messy, or my desk cluttered. I love my beautiful chaos!

Blog Freeze

The feeling. How do I describe it? You know when it is really hot outside and you say to yourself, “Self, let’s go get an ice cream.” So, you go get the biggest ice cream you can find because, after all, it’s hot outside. The guy dipping the ice cream has this way of doing it that makes you want to grab the cone and the scoop and do it yourself. He is taking FOREVER! By the time you get it, the sweet treat is melting all over itself and you hurry to lick it all up before it sticks up your hand. So, you take the big bite and then BAM! Brain Freeze! 

That’s as close as I can get. I have Blog Freeze. I have jumped head long into a world where I know little more than how to type. I was fairly certain that being able to put nouns and verbs together in a semi intelligent way and the desire to write would be enough. So, I took a big bite. Now, here I am, holding my head even though I Know I just have to wait it out. So I will type about whatever, surf wherever, and read whoever until the pain and swelling subsides. Then one day, when the dust settles, I can only hope the chaos will be beautiful and the new road an adventure

Azaleas

There is magic associated with springtime in the south. It is called Azalea. These beautiful flowers dot the bush unassumingly. They behave like beautiful young girls who pretend to be coy. They have perfected the art of modesty while all the while being completely aware of the spectacle they create. 

In hours just before the sun begins its journey to regain its throne, powerful in the Southern sky, the azaleas sleep. The crickets sing the lullaby and the mosquitoes have not yet been forced to hide from the heat of the day. The dew begins to collect lightly on the leaves. A gentle cleansing for the fair maidens by the attending servants. As the sun warms the ground, the blooms begin to do their dance. They pretend to be shy. It looks as if they never want to open, self conscious of what they will look like when exposed. But it is the game that the sun and the Azaleas often play. They are like teenagers who have just discovered the opposite sex and have begun their flirtation with desire. The flowers pretend to protest and the sun pretends to be convinced. So the courting continues. Eventually, and with great deliberation, the blooms open and the squares downtown burst forth with color. The variety of the sight proves that the rainbow is not the only spectacular natural creation.

They sit there, gliding in the wind, proud of themselves. They know what sparks they provide. They are the backdrop for the historical tour. They are the vision out the window at work that reminds of a simpler time.  They are the special something that makes the picnic with your lover special. They are the reason you chose to say your vows and kiss the bride outdoors.

Azaleas are the roses of the south and they guard their title with fierceness. The blossoms appear to be modest in their brilliance but are boisterous in their display. Do not let the subtleness fool you, for they are cunning. They are jealous little beauties and will not settle for anything other than center stage. Without regret or remorse – and with complete intention – they will steal your heart. If you encounter them on vacation, they will be the first thing you mention when you return home. If you have grown up around the flower, they will cast that spell that ensures they are what you miss when away.

They smile and preen. Anxious to be for you whatever you want them to be. The one beautiful thing in your day that makes you smile. Their effort is tireless. And they always try harder if they have been picked by the hands of a child. It is as if the pudginess in the young fingers provides a second life for the flower off the bush. They find the ability to make the color brighter, the smell sweeter and the enchantment deeper. You would think that the flower would be devastated. Plucked from the root of life and thus condemned to wilt and die prematurely. One would think that such a proud flower would balk at the displacement. That it would be in revolt in spite of itself and wither to dust immediately rather than endure a slower, less graceful death. But the azaleas glow and rise to an occasion that they have waited for since the beginning of the blossom. Like an adolescent girl that has just been chosen for her first dance. They know they will soon be in the place that makes all their efforts worth while. They have begun the portion of the journey that takes them to that coveted spot. The spot of adoration and appreciation that only a child can provide.

The fat fingers hold tight to the stem and pull and tug till the blossom gives way. The child squeals with delight and places the flower delicately to his nose to feel the tickle of the soft petals. The smell is sweet and the child will not realize for quite some years that this smell has infected him for the rest of his life. The child’s only concern right now is the destination. With an energy reserved only for children, he dashes towards the house as fast as his small legs will carry him.

“Momma, Momma, Momma!” he shouts as he throws open the screen door with one hand and an outstretched flower in the other. The azalea knows the moment of glory is near. Momma looks down and sees the gift. The child’s wide eyes look up, searching with anticipation for what he is sure will happen next. Momma smiles with her whole face, gently accepts the token and kisses the child on his round, sweaty face. The child’s mission is successfully completed. With one movement and full of satisfaction, he is off again to resume his exploration of the southern outdoors. Momma turns around and places the azalea in that spot. The one spot that all flowers long to find. The place of unconditional love, admiration, and devotion. That stained glass vase in his Momma’s kitchen window.