Author: Maria Johnson

yet another random question thingie

1. How old do you look? Old enough for the pimply teenager at the grocery store to give me a senior discount. I’m 48. I don’t mind rounding up to 50. I’m not a fan of being taken for 60. On the other hand, maybe I’ll start telling people I’m 60. Then, I’ll hang around long enough to overhear them say, “She looks damn good for 60!”

2. Where do you live? In a house, on a hill, beside a lake, beneath the trees.

3. Are you waiting for something? Always. I’m just not sure of what it is until it surprises me.

4. What’s one pet peeve of yours that is not common? Not common? I’m afraid I’m rather common — I hate traffic. I’m not a fan of taxes. Oh, well, there you have it. Taxes.

5. Do you want/have kids? Yes.

6. Have you ever thought about converting your religion? Converting my religion? It’s fine the way it is. It already has the fullness of Truth 🙂

7. Last shocking news you heard? I suppose it’s the whole Bin Laden thing. Or how much I paid for gas this morning.

8. What was the last thing you drank? Water. I know. I should have lied. I bought a bottle of Gewurztraminer tonight. I used to drink it all the time in spring and summer when I lived in Germany.

9. Who do you most look like in your family? I think I look an awful lot like my paternal grandmother. No doubt some family member will stumble upon this and disagree.

10. If you could have something right now, anything, what would it be? A massage. And that bottle of Gewurztraminer.

11. Where does most of your family live? A little south of here.

12. Where did you grow up? Here and there.

13. Where do you want to go on vacation? The moon. Or Rome.

14. Have you ever had a panic attack? Oh. Yes.

15. What can’t you wait for? Indeed, what can’t I wait for?

16. When’s the last time you told someone you loved him or her and meant it? About an hour ago. This morning. Yesterday afternoon. Some ungodly hour on Tuesday. All day Sunday. September 7, 1985.

17. Have your parents ever smoked pot? Holy smokes. Ha. Um. No?

18. Want someone back in your life? No. People have come in and out of my life when they were supposed to…why change things when they are going so swimmingly well.

19. What do you order at the bar? Yes. I mean, margaritas? Beer? Gin and tonic? Dirty martinis?

20. When was the last time you cried really, really hard? A couple of weeks ago.

21. Ever licked someone’s cheek? Yes. But there’s an explanation. There’s always an explanation.

22. What is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter? Jelly. Duh.

23. Where were you on July 4th, 2008? At home.

24. What are your nicknames? You know them. And if you don’t, I’m not telling.

25. If you could go back in time, how far back would you go? About 2000 years.

haunted by the ghost of a homework assignment

About a hundred years ago when I was in the fifth grade, I had to do this project that drove me absolutely mad. I was assigned a historical figure and had to present an “autobiographical” oral report. Now that I’m grown I recognize how cool the project was, and the impact it has had on my life, but at the time I was bitter. Super bitter. My classmates had some really cool people, and I was assigned this old lady:

The problem was that I would have to dress up like her and give an account of my life and there was nothing sexy or exciting about dressing up like Aunt Bea, you know? My friends who had Susan B. Anthony or Pocahontas got to wear costumes; I got to dress up like my grandmother.

Now as an adult, I recognize that Eleanor Roosevelt’s politics don’t line up with mine, and that her personal life was a bit scandalous depending on what you read and who wrote it. Still, she did some amazing things that I admire. I find a kindred spirit in her work for human dignity through civil rights activism and her work with the poor. Her writing, too, inspires, if not always because of the content, certainly in the scope.

In the end, though, what I appreciate about good ole Eleanor is the inspiration I find in the multitude of quotations that pop up on the internet. Nothing says posterity like Bartlett’s Quotes on-line, whether or not context matters. Context or not, she says some good stuff.

As I face some new challenges, both professionally and personally, I find myself inspired by this interesting woman.

You must do the things you think you cannot do.
~Eleanor Roosevelt

oh boy, I’m being random again


I thought I’d share some stuff I like because I’m in a moody mood and I figured it’d be a good reminder for me to, you know, think about some things I like.

  • I like the feel of an oscillating fan on a really hot day. It reminds me of my childhood in my grandparents’ house. If it’s hot, and night time, and a fan is on, I will fall asleep in a drunken stupor from the drone of the motor and the soothing pass of the not-quite-cool air.
  • It’s spring here and that means I’m having a time with the allergies. It’s not a good time. Still, the amazing scent of flowers everywhere is so sweet and delicious. We’re going to wipe out some out of control shrubbery soon, and I hate to say it, but I’m going to be a little sorry to see it go — there’s a bunch of honeysuckle tangled in that mess and it smells heavenly.
  • I’m not too grown up to take a nap in the middle of the day. If there’s milk and cookies after, it’s even better. Especially if they are chocolate chip cookies.
  • Bubble baths are an under-appreciated commodity. I will indulge myself very soon.
  • I like good books, good wines, good friends, and good conversation. If I could have a good wine with a good friend while conversing about a good book I’d be set.
  • I like hugs.
  • I like sunsets. I like sunrises more.
  • I like to hear the crash of waves on the shore when it’s dark and you can’t really see the water. It never quite sounds the same — and yet it does.
  • And I like the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee. D’oh.

had to share cuz I have this thing about light

People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light within.

~Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

the honeysuckles are here!

Nothing brings back my childhood in Atlanta like honeysuckles. I used to get up early, while the dew was still on the grass, and ride my bike to the park for swim practice. There’s something about that early morning newness that has imprinted into my soul, and it includes honeysuckles. They were everywhere — folks might say like a weed, but I’m kind of partial to dandelions,too, so maybe I just like weeds.

The scent of honeysuckles hit me full force this morning when I walked the dog. I’m sure it had everything to do with the rain that washed away the yucky pollen and left everything refreshed and new. It is the Easter season after all.

I’ve seen them along the fence and creeping towards the mailbox, but I haven’t really walked that way in some time, so they weren’t quite real to me.  I had to go up to them and gather a bunch to my face to inhale deeply of their sweet scent. And yes, I pulled apart a couple of them to taste the nectar. Nothing has changed in forty-years, still sweet, still fun to pull apart.

The experience left me refreshed, and a little pensive. I could feel the pull of my rosary which I had tucked into my waistband, thinking the walk might be a little longer. The crucifix poked me in the hip, a little attention-getter, if you will. That Jesus, master of subtlety with me.

As it happens, I didn’t pray the rosary. I’ll get to it in the car in a little while. I did, however, think about the crucifix, and the crucifixion of Our Lord. It takes something physical for me, like the scent of flowers or the poke of a cross, to get me to feel, physically, what often seems apparent to others.

I admit it’s something that has been a liability for me, at least academically. You can talk to me until you’re blue in the face, but if I can’t touch it or physically do it, um…I didn’t learn it. No doubt it’s what made me a good athlete — the ball or the racket became an extension of my body and I could feel what I had to do long before I thought about doing it.

That’s probably why I like to pray the rosary. I can touch it, and play with the texture of the beads, and hear the clink of metal. And yes, feel the sharp edges of the cross and the raised corpus upon it. The raised corpus. Wow. I just wrote that without even thinking about the implication. Maybe I should add typing on a keyboard to the senses.

Anyway, the point that I was making is that I need something physical to go along with my faith and I had an interesting thought. I have this yearning for the “epic faith experience” whatever that is (I’ll get back to you with that when I finally figure it out. Don’t hold your breath for it). Here I am thinking that I’m like St. Peter, ready to deny Jesus when things get tough, and really, I’m like St. Thomas.

Poor maligned, doubting Thomas. That’s me. Yep. He had to poke his fingers into Christ’s body to believe. I felt a little sorry for myself when I realized that. I mean, I wanted to be like the saint that got knocked off a horse, or you know, shot full of arrows. What’s a little beheading or burning at the stake for my convictions?

I wanted to be convicted.

Instead, I get a bunch of doubts and the echo of blessed are those who don’t see and believe, and I’ll be honest, I felt like crap about it.  And as I’m pulling apart those honeysuckles I’m thinking that maybe, for me, I got this a little wrong. Jesus was gentle with Thomas, and gave him permission to touch his wounds. In fact, told him to put his fingers in the wounds, to feel for himself. So maybe Thomas was just a little slow getting to where he needed to be, but he got there. And Jesus told him he was blessed for it.

Like me.