Natalie Whatley

My heart goes out to those in Haiti, Chile, and now Taiwan dealing with the aftermath of separate earthquakes. None of what follows is in any way meant to minimize that suffering. As you know by now, you get what tumbles out of my brain each week – the good, the bad, and the sometimes hideously deformed.

After viewing recent news coverage of the Chilean earthquake and during a subsequent dinner discussion, I was asked by my middle child if I had ever been in an earthquake. I truthfully answered that I had not, but went on to give accounts of the natural disasters I had survived pre-motherhood: namely hurricanes. Since my kiddos were around for Hurricanes Rita and Ike, they could relate.

Recalling that conversation a little later, I realized my foundation has been violently shaken and crumbled on a few occasions – one being fairly recent. Of course my presence here today proves I lived to tell about it. But I have to admit there were times while underneath the crushing weight of the rubble I didn’t think I had the fight in me to even attempt clawing my way to the surface. It would have been so much easier and far less painful to lie there in silence and return . . . dust to dust.

The hardest part: I have an intensely private (you just think you know me, and I chuckle as I write that), independent spirit. And the quakes registering highest on my Richter scale were endured by me alone – inside the confines of my heart and mind. Had the wreckage been seen, I have no doubt family, friends, and even strangers would have rushed aid to my side, but fear of looters kept me quiet. I couldn’t afford to lose what little I had left – the belief in my own strength.

It took near decimation to stir me from indifference and excite a reaction. I’m stubborn like that. And, no, I’m not proud of it.

So, like our brothers and sisters across the globe, I began clearing away the debris. I’m nowhere near finished and have accepted the fact that rebuilding from the ground up will take far longer than I’d like. Not to mention that new construction must be suspended while I bring myself up to date on the latest building codes that serve to ensure I’ll remain standing when the next big one strikes.

The repairs required for the physical manifestations of such deep tremors are time intensive and sometimes expensive, but doable. Dealing with the ongoing, could-hit-at-any-moment aftershocks is a different matter entirely.

One must learn to expect the unexpected – participate in what’s known as “hindsight bias” and try to imagine that events are more predictable than they really are. Stating that almost makes me feel a tiny bit in control.

Some time in the not-so-distant future I’ll be rebuilt, stronger than ever.  And in the grand scheme of things, I’ll be ready . . . shaken, not blurred.

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

So we’re having an abnormally cool winter here in these parts.  While I don’t enjoy feeling chilled as much as I have lately, it’s not the cool temps I find most bothersome, but rather the gray dreary skies that often accompany them. The blah horizon seems to wash over everything, and I’m finding I don’t do well in a colorless existence.

Shades of gray make up many of the nuances that are part and parcel of human existence. Statistically, I’m about halfway through said existence and that fact has caused me to decide that life’s too short to be spent in gray-area neutrality – even if only confined to conversation. And that got me thinking about the saying “Say what you mean, and mean what you say.”

It sounds easy enough to execute, but when we consider that there are three possible meanings for every word it’s easy to see why misunderstandings and conflicts arise. A speaker knows what he means, the listener thinks he knows what the speaker means, and then there’s the actual dictionary definition. Just for grins, I think we can also include male/female communication dynamics. We should all take a bow – it’s amazing that anything gets accomplished.

While I don’t fully subscribe to Dr. Brad Blanton’s Radical Honesty movement – because I’m certain that following the tenets that call for all speech to be unfiltered would have many of us going around beyond angry, if not feeling completely dejected – it does seem things might run a little more smoothly if we could all stop the verbal dance that leads to all parties feeling as if they were trying to nail Jell-O to the wall.

I don’t know, maybe I’m feeling this way because on top of the gray skies, it’s election time. I’m exhausted from trying to decipher hidden meanings and innuendo – just give it to me straight and without sugar coating. From there, I can form a rational opinion. But I digress.

Getting back to gray and throwing in black and white because they can be stubbornly problematic, I’d like to think I can say what I mean and mean what I say in a calming shade of blue – if I were so inclined. I mention inclination because some conditions call for fiery reds (I’m a little too practiced in those), or the bane of many writers, some drippy purple prose. I’ll try to stay away from nauseatingly-sweet pink.  But what if I’m feeling a little envious? Could I not use green to get my point across?

Maybe I should strive for being silver tongued – speaking in lustrous grays that deflect my inability to get off the fence. Nah . . . that wouldn’t be any fun. Like comedienne Lily Tomlin once said, “If you can’t be direct, why be?”  I can’t “be” without any decided qualities or characteristics, and I refuse to be black and white. Fiery reds and calming blues . . . that’s what I say, and I mean it.

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

Alexander Pope, famous eighteenth century English poet and satirist, once wrote “To err is human, to forgive divine.”  Broken down, it means we’re all going to mess up at one point or another and that it would be of the highest possible testament to goodness if we could grant pardons for true and perceived wrongs while ceasing to be resentful. But I’ve got my own twist, and it may force me to seek chiropractic care in the end.

In the stress-filled world we live in today it’s not difficult, even in a short amount of time, to gather up a pile of grievances large and small. Using an irksome tone of voice after a long day is minor, but depletes goodwill over time. (Raise your hand if you’re guilty of sometimes speaking to strangers in a friendlier manner than family members who share the same home. Sadly, I have both hands up.) And what about the bigger transgressions? How we handle both extremes and everything in between has an enormous impact on our physical and emotional well-being.

There are several “Love Language” books available encompassing many variations of relationships by Gary Chapman, but it was a little different version on the same premise, “The Five Languages of Apology” written by Chapman and Jennifer Thomas, that actually got me thinking about forgiveness and delving deeper into the subject.

What I learned as I made my way through each “language” was that words and/or actions that constitute an apology to one person may not come close for another.  Often times, we go about life thinking something was dealt with while in reality it’s still festering – growing into a barrier that could forever impede forward motion.  Thus the reason genuine apologies are a necessity and in return forgiveness.

Further along in my quest to become fluent in asking others for their forgiveness, I stumbled upon a large impediment to feeling forgiven: forgiving myself. And I’m not talking about excusing behavior . . . more along the lines of, “OK. I’ve turned myself inside out and upside down. Held my feet to fire. Admitted I was wrong and handed down some stiff inner-disciplinary action.” Now what?

It takes some backbone to stand up, look the woman in the mirror straight in the eye, and call her out. She can get pretty testy – may even attempt to look away in the hopes of deflecting my fiery resolve.  But standing toe-to-toe and refusing to drop my gaze, I made my intentions clear: The lashing was over and inner-prison time served.

Shoving pride to the side, she squared her shoulders and stood a little taller. With a shaky yet persuasive voice regrets were expressed, responsibility accepted, restitution offered, and repentance made followed by, “Will you please forgive me?”

A blurred reflection revealed a pile of grievances carried for far too long falling to the floor. A chiropractor won’t be necessary. I feel divine.

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

Since it’s only mid-January, many of us are still bathing in the fresh-start afterglow. Resolutions promise to deliver conditional change if we’re prepared to do the hard work. The result is often a worthy prize and more often than not, way too lofty a goal. It may help to set several mini-goals and remember that the longest of journeys begins with a single step.

The fact that my running/walking route has been more crowded on the days weather permitted proves I’m not alone in my quest to log some extra miles in 2010. It’s said that to fully understand a man, one must walk a mile in his shoes. Thus the reason I’m going to walk several hundred in my own.

Last summer, and for the first time ever, I got a head start (or maybe it was just a very late start to the previous year’s resolution) on what has become an annual New Year’s tradition: promising to take better care of the vessel that dutifully carries me through both tumult and triumph.

I was glad I did it and vowed to get through the holidays without the scale inching higher – realizing that if past behavior predicts future, I could count on failure. But I made it! And I’m not bragging, although I am very proud of myself. I know it sounds a bit cliché, but if I can do it anybody can, because this girl likes to eat!

Having made it over that hurdle, I was on to phase two: pushing myself out of maintenance mode and into things much harder. With the recent spate of frigid temperatures forcing me indoors, I’ve had ample opportunities (my motivational word for a chunk of time that could be better spent) to go heavy on the weight training and spend some time with fitness gurus who motivate me.

Courtesy of Billy Blanks (Tae-Bo), Jillian Michaels (Biggest Loser), and Denise Austin, I hurt in places I forgot I had and amble about like I assume I will 50-plus years from now. (No offense to those blessed to be in their 90s. I bet the spry Gladys “Granny” Adcox of Highlands could run circles around me on my best day.)

To provide more depth to the experience, I’m also working towards increased mental strength. In so many ways, it’s much harder than the physical. I dig deep, unearth regrets, get angry, get sad, cry, laugh, and repeat. Mental gymnastics are exhausting.

Why am I intentionally inflicting pain upon myself? To get something that won’t be as immediately recognizable as a more toned physique. The body will shrink, but hopefully the mind will grow. I know it’s working to some degree as my threshold for discomfort has risen. Naturally-occurring anesthesia gained through perseverance is a wonderful thing.

I’m learning a great deal – mostly along the lines of pain being a great motivator. Running away and cowering from the source doesn’t mesh well with my independent spirit. So, I’ll stand toe-to-toe, look my adversary square in the eye, and turn the tables. Anguish can be a powerful propellant.

When I rise the following morning, stiff and painfully aware of the battle waged, I’ll grin, bear it, and remember no pain, no gain.

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

As I mature (sounds better than “age”), I’m learning the value of seeing the glass as half-full. I work hard to put things in perspective, and when my mind isn’t up to the task the Big Guy puts someone in my path eager to lend some real obstacles to my ears.  I trudge away, eyes pointed northward. Message received. I’m travelling over molehills while others scale Mt. Everest.

That said, sometimes my children, uh, I mean life (Did I say “my children” out loud?) hands me things that cause my face to contort and pucker. I become a sourpuss. Summertime bickering, anyone? How about a tall glass of fresh lemonade? It’s not summer without them.

I personally love pink lemonade. It’s a sweeter version than the yellow variety –more sugar and a little grape, strawberry or cherry juice for its pink tone.  I’ve never tried any of the fancy recipes –the ones that use mint, ginger, or ginger ale –but with a bumper crop of little lemons I’m sure to try them all.

Dale Carnegie, writer and self-improvement guru from a by-gone era, was credited with coining the proverb, “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade!” Basic lemonade: water, lemon juice, and sugar. As stated above, it can get far more complicated, but the classic taste requires the proper ratio of sweet to sour in order to be agreeable to taste buds. What’s a girl to do when four weeks of kids being out of school have already used up all the sweetness she had?  Mimic the Europeans, I suppose –they enjoy “clear lemonade” unclouded by sucrose.

To deal with my influx of yellow citrus, I also considered another little gem (author unknown) I came across in a when-life-hands-you-lemons discussion: “When life hands you lemons, squirt juice in his eye!” It sounds good in theory, but then I’d have to take him (or her) to the doctor. Oops! I did it again!  I’d have to take “life” to the doctor. Research tells me it would only cause irritation, not blindness, but I bet I’d still be in trouble.  Headline: “Columnist’s children had one lemon of a mother! The fruit will do hard time”.  

Lemons shouldn’t be getting such a bad rap from me. They look, smell, and taste refreshing in the proper context, and the juice, which contains citric acid, has uses galore. It’s in many types of household cleaners; according to some, one doesn’t need fancy chemical-based concoctions –lemon juice and water will do the trick.

The culinary possibilities are only limited by your imagination, and you’ll get a healthy dose of Vitamin C to boot –not to mention your liver cleansed! (If it’s on the internet, it’s gotta be true!)  

Lemon juice also has antiseptic qualities and was used back in the day to clean wounds. (I believe they stopped using this method because the wounded passed out from blowing on the mother of all stinging.)  And did you know a nose bleed could be stopped by putting a couple of drops in the affected nostril? Maybe the nose stops, but I bet the eyes start hemorrhaging. Sounds unpleasant.

Me, I think I’ll take my lemons and work out my summer frustrations with a micro-grater. Sunny zest for life makes everything sweeter!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

OK…the “snake” story below has garnered me quite a bit of ribbing. My “friend” Paisley sent along this photo which adequately depicts what I’m now afraid of. Who needs enemies when you have friends like that?  Just kidding, Paisley! I may need professional help to get past this

I’m not going to post the photos here because they seriously CREEP me out, but it turns out snakes (LARGE ones) coming up through toilets are quite common…I just felt a chill move up my spine. I’ll let you Google it for yourself!

Grocery stores are opening up…long check out lines, but everyone was cordial and cooperative. I was able to pay with my debit card and keep my cash on hand for places that may not be able to take electronic methods of payment.

Gas stations are getting up and going, and as of just an hour ago (4:30 p.m.) there weren’t even lines to speak of.

I’m still without power, but have had water all along.

People in the neighborhood have been working hard clearing debris and helping each other with downed trees.

It appears that we’re slowly but surely getting our feet back under us.

As of today, I’m spent. All I can say is THANK HEAVENS for the cool front…we deserved this beautiful weather after Ike’s battering.

Looking forward to a good night’s rest….as soon as we all turn off the generators

If you’re reading from out of town, visit www.baytown.org and click on “press releases” for city updates.

My family & I are fine…just HOT   Thank goodness for a cool front coming in. Our area has extensive tree damage which leads me to believe I’ll be w/o power for a LONG time.  I’m not complaining though…MANY of my neighbors had trees on their homes w/ interior & exterior damage. In the grand scheme, I came out unscathed.

I hope all reading are doing well and that you & yours have your lives back to normal soon.

“See” you as soon as I can. I won’t be using the generator to run the computer much, but will check in periodically.  Be safe… LOVE you all.

Through my efforts to thwart comment spammers, who have basically provided me full-time employment keeping their “junk” off my site, I accidentally found out how to go back and change dates. I’m SO very excited…it doesn’t take much to rock my world.

So, all my articles are now in chronological order. If only I could go back and edit life that way…oh well, the mistakes made me who I am. Have a GREAT day everyone!

Hello, and WELCOME to my Baytown Sun readers!  If you’re reading this, you found the right place. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for stopping in to see what I’ve been up to this past month.