Roses are red...

I'm not much of a gardener. I have tried, though, and my results have been abysmal. I have no patience. I don't like digging in the dirt. I don't like weeding and and usually have very little luck with most flowers and veggies. I can't see spending a bunch of money on a pot with a tomato plant that isn't going to produce for me when I can get good ones from the farmer's market. Petunias get rangy every time but I can grow geraniums, begonias, and roses in pots.

My mother-in-law is green to her elbow. She can grow anything and her house plants are the best. She tells me she has never been able to grow roses. Roses are easy. They just want to be told they are beautiful every day. They like encouragement over every bud and exclamations of just how miraculous each blossom is. Oh sure, once in a while you have to spray or add some fertilizer, and it is important to keep them watered, but roses like the personal touch.

Geraniums and begonias like to be told how nice they look too. They do well with compliments. But they are like the chorus of dancers in a ballet; all looking alike and best in bunches. A simple, "You are looking beautiful today, girls" and in passing, "I'll bring you some water tomorrow" and they are happy to bloom for one and all.

Roses, though, are like the prima ballerinas. Each plant has very few blossoms and they are all precious. Each takes a turn opening up a bud and revealing the lovely color and fragrance within. After each star's turn, the stage goes dark and days or weeks go by until there is another show. Roses make you get involved. They demand daily tribute and attention, if only to say, "Look, another bud." They want to know you notice.

Last year I spent a ton for brand name roses. I had to start them from bare roots and never really got many blossoms. This year I went back to Home Depot and bought what was on sale. This year there is no theme. One plant produces huge red roses, the others have smaller blooms in a salmonish color, or white with pink edges or lovely pink. I bought one plant that is silvery lavender. I treat them as annuals, knowing that they will last only one season. Last year I learned it is wise to use new soil in the planters each year. That was a real case of "who knew?" I will tell you who knew, people who know how to garden is who.

I jokingly say I am a delicate flower. I would like to think of myself as a rose but I know I am not. Years ago a friend told me I was a Pink Carnation, strong and spicy, common and complicated, and very long lasting. I guess I can live with that. I can grow with others and stand alone or in a group. I don't have thorns and can be a welcome sight. No one gets upset over the price of a pink and no one jacks up the price of carnations for holidays.

My list for Tuesday

I don't sleep at night. I never have been what is called a good sleeper. Yet, I do need a lot of sleep. Several years ago I was diagnosed with sleep apnea, but the machine doesn't seem to help very much, when I can stand to use it. Consequently I am up a lot at night, like right now. I will probably fall asleep at about six, and then sleep until ten. It is not a good way to live.

Here, in no particular order other than just thinking about it, is my list for Tuesday:
Find out which bank the old man is bouncing checks on and try to get some answers!
Bring up Coke tops to enter into the computer. I hate that.
Fold towels
Pay phone and electric bills
Call Prostaff and Intrepid agencies
Vacuum the upstairs and stairs, yeah, right.
Get that letter to Credo started.
Call Extrados
Change sheets on bed
Put away laundry
Go to JR's for Patti's birthday.

Patti is a pretty conflicted woman. She is sort of nuts around me. Half of her is still mad over a remark I made over a year ago. I apologized profusely and sometimes she accepted and sometimes she didn't. Finally I said "Look, I'm sorry, but that is the last time I will apologize." What she didn't realize is that every time I said I was sorry, it brought up the thing she did to hurt me that prompted my remark. And never once has she apologized for that. But, I do like the Tuesday night get together and she is part of that group. I picked up some little Mikasa Christmas votives at The Hope Chest for Cancer for $2.00. She collects that crap, so I know it will be a big hit. If it is the thought that counts, what does that say about me? I'm thoughtful and super cheap.

Here is what should be number one on my list:
Be a good person with love in my heart for myself and all of Creation! And get off my ass and do stuff.

What just happened?

My birth mother, Fay, had a good friend. I think they went to Brooklyn College together at night. Her friend had three children, Michael and his two sisters. Michael loved my brother Stuart and some years ago we found each other online. When I joined facebook, he became a friend and we would chat quite often. He liked hearing about my life and he often bemoaned how much he missed Beverly, a woman who had grown up in my building and now lived in Montreal. They would see each other every other month or so. He recently told me about the vacation they were planning and how much he was looking forward to spending two weeks with her in Maine. I remember asking if they were camping and if they were going to go to Kennebunkport. My last question was if he was flying or driving. I logged out and didn't think much more about it. Tonight when I checked my email I found this message:

Carol,
As you know I am in a long term relationship that is extremely important to me. I think talking with you is inappropriate and therefore it is best that we no longer communicate through facebook or any other means.
Mike

I had a real wtf? moment. What was going on? What had changed? Was I inflaming his imagination and had become a threat. And did I care? After some thought I wrote back to him:

Oh my goodness. I had no idea we were doing anything more than light conversation. I never want to be a source of pain for anyone, male or female and hope I have not hurt Beverly or you. What a shame to lose an old friend, but I will respect your wishes.
Be well,
Carol

I have never entertained any sexual thoughts about this man. The fact that Beverly, who I always thought of with the highest respect was in love with him blew my mind. Believe me, he is not the gods gift to women. But people are strange, and maybe he created something that wasn't there except in his mind. I know it is not the first time someone has had a totally imaginary affair and as I don't want him to mess up his relationship with his girlfriend, I agreed not to contact him. I can accept almost anything if I can figure out a reason. I am sure I was one of those children who constantly asked why? The only problem I have with this whole thing is that by not contacting him again I cannot ask "Why? WTF?"

Since joining facebook, I have reconnected with many people from my youth. There are so many I do not recognize, not even their names. I have to ask myself why they want to know me now? That was another life, and it wasn't always happy. But I think some people come in and out of our lives for a reason that we can't always see, and I am happy that people want to be friends.

Michael, I did not miss you when we didn't communicate for thirty years. I wish you well. And in a strange and twisted way, thanks for thinking of me as a femme fatale. The mind is a terrible thing to waste! (Oh, and by the way...if you don't want your chat read by others...remember to clear your chat.)

Addendum: Was contacted by a friend who was contacted by this man and knows about several others. It isn't only me. Readers, be careful of who you deal with online.

Going to the cabin

I am going up nort' to da cabin. My friend has invited me for a couple of days, we leave today and come back Thursday. No weekend traffic. If being unemployed is good for something, it is being able to take off in the middle of the week. There! A silver lining.

This is a real cabin, and the first time I walked in I had such a flashback to when I lived up in the mountains and rented a tiny house. It smelled the same. (I have an idea it might be dead mice...) There is a sleeping porch, and when I sat up in bed the first morning, there was the great outdoors. No windows, just screen and nature. Of course the call of nature had to interfere and off to the composting outhouse. It is not supposed to stink, but it does. There is a pump for fresh water, and electricity for the fridge and gas for the range. Not really roughing it, but not a modern place either. Generations of orphaned china, glasses and blankets have found their way here. Some great grannies wedding silver resides here, too. Yes and all the dull knives from various cousins kitchens too. But...there is also a toaster, microwave and coffee maker. Old games and modern music via a cast off stereo system. Someone with a bit of whimsy in their soul put up crazy Christmas lights. I recognize the chili pepper lights.

The last time I went up I experienced true relaxation. I didn't expect anything and there was no where to go. I slept and played cards and ate good food. I laughed and cooked and washed dishes in a pan with water heated on the stove. I don't think I want to live this way, but it is a lovely way to spend a few days, a peaceful interlude to break up the week. Look at the time! I have to pack (but I don't need much).

The Number at the Bottom and the Message at the Top

At the very, very bottom of the page there is a tiny widget called sitemeter. It records how many people check out my blog. This week it worked out to eighty-two visits. It doesn't record how many are repeaters, or who they are. Because no one ever leaves a comment, I have no idea of who is actually reading my blog. A dear friend sent me a personal note when I was depressed earlier. That really touched me. I had no idea she followed me. As I said, I really don't know who reads this (at times) drivel.

At the very top, next to my name is the message: next blog. Whenever I post or read another blog on Blogger I hit that link. It is always a surprise, always. Most time it is written in another language and sometimes in a different alphabet. Sometimes it is advertising or a business blog but more often it is personal. This is what someone in another part of the world is passionate about. I have seen travel blogs written in Japanese about bicycle trips through the Western United States and also travel blogs about bicycle trips through the wine country in California written by natives. Fans of Michael Jackson around the world were quick to post pictures and commentary in every language you can think of, and many you can't.

In America we do not get much global news if it doesn't affect us as a nation. I sometimes watch and listen to the BBC and find out about unrest or politics in far off places. I am sure it is not unbiased, but it is the best I can do for now. Once I was in a deli and saw Al-Jazeera TV. I was surprised at how balanced it was. I thought it would be Anti-American, but what I saw while I was there was not at all inflammatory. It was just a round up of stories; good journalism. The blogs are different.

Whether written in Cyrillic, Sanskrit, Korean, or Thai, I understand the pictures posted by proud parents and grandparents. I enjoy travel journals, or some one's teapot collection. Pictures are universal and I love seeing other's. I was a holdout against a digital camera until I could get a tiny one. Then I was scared to learn how to post pictures. I am a bit of a technophobe. The camera I bought last week intimidated me, hell the new Exilim, which I am familiar with, intimidates me but not as much. And as soon as I do learn how to use it, people all over the world can see my roses.

Getting What I Want

There are several ways of achieving satisfaction. One way is to do no research, go to the store and take your chance. Another is to meticulously research the subject and purchase the top rated item. Then there is my way, not always the best way, but as I say, my way. And that is to decide on an intangible idea and try to get the closest thing to it tangibly.

I lost my cute little Casio camera and had a three hundred dollar Costco rebate. I went to the store and got totally confused. I wound up buying a bigger Panasonic with a better lens. I am not happy with it. It is too big. So tonight, while most people are sleeping, I did research on the web. I am definitely going back to a smaller camera. Whether I do the Casio again I am not sure. But one thing is for sure. I am going back to my idea of what I want, a tiny light camera that I can carry with me all the time.

My roses are beautiful and I need to record their beauty to enjoy in the cold days to come. I can grow roses in pots. I cannot grow petunias but I can grow and enjoy roses. Having beautiful roses outside the door makes me very happy.

Getting stuff done

In my gussied up Fringe Festival Volunteer shirt last year

The pastor who counseled my friend Connie Greco before her marriage many years ago told her that she should make her bed first thing everyday. It makes the bedroom look pulled together and discourages getting back in bed. Good advice and thirty-four years later I am putting it into action. New linens always inspire me, but even without new bed clothes, I like the philosophy. Now, that doesn't mean I won't lie down on the porch, but it gets me out of bed. Today I am getting things done and that is always a good thing. I have made many phone calls and checked web pages. My bed is made, I am dressed, I have taken my meds, made plans for the evening.


Tonight is a Fringe Festival Showcase. Thirty acts in three minute intervals. I don't think I will volunteer for the Fringe this year. They have changed the policy and volunteers do not get to sit in on the shows they are working. Plus I cannot just give away the free tickets I get. I have to go with a punch card. Not volunteer friendly enough for me. As a volunteer coordinator I know you have to keep the volunteers happy and appreciated. This new policy does not do it for me. It makes the administration happy so we will go our separate ways. Going to the Showcase tonight will determine whether I see any of the full length shows. I admire anyone who puts themselves out there to be seen, who has faith in their talent and performance.


Depression is helped by taking action. Taking action is the last thing I want to do when I am depressed. It is a terrible conundrum and for today I am happy to be taking action and happy that I am not feeling the crush of depression. As my friend Michael says, blessed be.

Salt, Moonlight, Typing with a cat in my arms

When I got up and walked into this room I wondered what was causing the brightness outside. A neighbor's security light? Then I walked downstairs and the light was so bright it was casting shadows in the kitchen. Clear night, full moon, beautiful.

I had a hankering for sauerkraut and potato chips. You should see my ankles. Salt is not my friend.

Picture this, an open laptop on the table, a cat laid out before it with his head resting on my right elbow, back paws resting against left upper arm and me trying to type. I am feeling so guilty right now because this cat, Hunter, doesn't look so good and it is all my fault. He has thick white fur which covers all my furniture. I begged and begged Eri to shave him like she did her own cats. Finally she agreed but only got about half done because he was soooooo freaked out. I'm sorry Hunty Bunty. He knows how to play that guilt card and has been getting lots of extra love. I wonder what he will look like when the hair grows back?

That's it for now, from the night time rambler. I am feeling a lot better, but tomorrow is Saturday with the folks. Like a lotus I shall rise above it...yeah, that's the ticket.

Celebrate Life

I had a facebook message from someone who attended the funeral of my friend's 19 year old son with me. She asked if I was alright because I didn't seem like myself. Yeah, I don't usually attend tragic events. I realize that this funeral was not a celebration of life. It was a marking of a senseless death, and that is a big difference. When my father-in-law Donald died we had a wonderful ceremony. We cried and we laughed and we celebrated the man we loved. We knew his death was a good thing, that his health had failed and he dreaded becoming a burden. We knew he was at peace, his affairs in order. He went quite quickly, the way we all want to go. It was time.

What do you say about a nineteen year old? He loved to fish and golf. He loved music and sunflower seeds and I can not help thinking he was just a sketch, the Creator had not filled in the lines yet, he was a work in progress that will go no further here on this earth. Now, I only know what I believe and what I know is that I don't know. Maybe he needed the next manifestation to progress to where he needs to go. I don't know. His parents and family are crushed. His friends are confused and his pastor, well, I just don't know what to say about his pastor.

I believe that Jesus was a very great spiritual leader who showed his followers how to experience the Creator within. I think since his death, his followers have taken his words out of context and created something Jesus would not recognize. I can't be a Christian because there is a huge disconnect for me. I just don't get what the Virgin Birth, the Crucifixion and Resurrection have to do with me. I don't see how God sacrificing his only son gives me eternal life. I don't get it. The church talks so much about eternal life, but what about THIS life? What about living the ideals Jesus set forth and preached about, charity and love?

The pastor talked about that friend the boy had in Jesus, who died so he could be reborn with him in heaven. How Jesus was waiting there as his best friend to welcome him. Someone said that the sermon was like Sunday school, maybe it was, I have never been. But what can you say about a teenage boy whose life was a barely written page? How can you comfort the parents and grandparents, siblings? What words of comfort are there? For a Lutheran pastor the words have to be the official church line, Jesus died for our sins and since this boy was baptised, he would have eternal life with his main homie, Jesus, and the crew in heaven. Believe me, this was not a celebration of life. I'm just glad that there was no condemnation for taking his own life.

The songs were of Salvation and I hope that those people who believe the official line have comfort. I pray for the peace that only time can bring for those that loved him. My friend will never be the same. The child's father will mourn quite deeply. This is a sorrow that I can only observe and hope not to deepen. What a damn shame.

Feeling a great deal better

Well, Monday was a very sad day. I wrote as much in my blog. Today was some improvement. Made a list and did a few things on it, so that is good. But the best thing is I was able to talk to a friend who just listened. Then I spoke with Scott. I told him I was starting to look for an apartment. I told him some other stuff too and his response was that each day he wakes up wondering if he should just stick it out or kill himself. I said I thought about that too, or doing away with him. He reiterated to me that he wants to be fair and wants me to land on my feet.

Later I told him how shocked I was to hear him say that. I know thoughts of ending it all flit through MY brain, but I never thought he felt that way too. We agreed we must change the way things are going and I think we both feel better for having spoken.

So whether I buy something right away, and he is thinking I should get a house, not a condo, or just rent for awhile, I am going to try to move soon, by the end of the summer if not sooner. Anything to end the inertia.

On a serious note, tomorrow I will attend a funeral for a nineteen year old boy. I think it is a suicide, I will know more later. I remember going to Jerusha Kessler's funeral and telling Harriet about it. She said "She got confused." I always remember those words when I am despondent and think there is no use in going on. I will always remember that it is confusion that makes one feel that way. Confusion passes, death does not. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem and I will NEVER cause my family the heartache it creates. This is a promise.

Like a wave, watch out for the undertow

Unless you have experienced true depression, and I hope like hell you have not, you cannot understand what it feels like. Hopeless, helpless, and so very sad. It is like a wave that washes over and you have to fight the undertow because if you let it take you, you will die. It is hard to remember that life is beautiful. It feels like laughter is something that happened to someone else and joy is only a concept. When this happens to me, as it is happening now, there is only one thing that keeps me going. It is knowing that it will pass and like the tide, it will ebb.

As I sit here writing this, tears trickle down my face and I wipe them off and blow my nose. tomorrow is another day and I hope I can wake up and face it. I wish someone would come and help me make a list and give me direction. But I have to do it myself.

Many years ago I went on a retreat alone. I wished someone was with me but understood that ultimately we walk alone. It is nice to have a companion but I am the only one who can move my feet. Left, right, and left again. Do not retreat to the bed and hide under the cover. But now it is almost one and I will go to bed, maybe to sleep, maybe not, and hope to feel better soon.

A Different Fourth of July

Before I started this post I read my niece Hilary's post. So sweet. I remember the old ladies telling me to enjoy my babies, that this was the best time of my life. I don't want that to be true. I want there to be other best times of my life. But having babies is pretty wonderful, having toddlers using their words is so much fun. Being the center of their universe is a feeling like no other. And yes, I am a little jealous, and nostalgic.

While I have been standing still, life progressed around me. Things that I took for granted, that we would all spend holidays together...well that has gone. Maybe it will come back once in a while, but I think that all my nieces and nephews and their children and lovers are all going their own way and that big sweet family is something of the past. Maybe after the divorce goes through things will be different. I think everyone is uncomfortable with being with me and Scott these days. I remember telling him that I did not want to give up his family, they mean too much to me. Betty tells me I will always be her daughter.

The job with McKnight Foundation did not come through. I didn't even qualify for an interview. Unemployment stands at 9.5%. Employers have a huge pool of desperate people to choose from and wages are either stagnating or being lowered. I am pleased that Scott is making a good living at Costco. He works very hard. I wish I could find something that I could work hard at and come home exhausted and happy.

Fourth of July was nice. I enjoyed being with Clara's family. Three of her brothers, one sister, and two spouses were there along with her mother. Ernie invited some Chilean friends and I brought the folks. Eri and John were there without Gavin. Scott spent a lot of quality time with the old lady and the old man brought his Speed Graphic to Ernesto. He really enjoyed showing him how it worked and Ernie will keep it for awhile, or forever. I like seeing the folks acting generously. It is good for them.

I am still not happy with the old man. I talk to him as little as possible. When I feel stronger I will try to tell him what he did to make me so angry. I feel petty about the way I am treating him. Two wrongs do not make a right, I know, but I am so tired of his crap. Let me tell you, he is not going easy into that goodnight. He is really fighting to keep his identity and independence. I respect that, but not at my expense. I wish I was a better person and could accept everything with compassion and equanimity.

Fireworks in Excelsior with a friend. We parked a couple of blocks away on Water Street and walked way over to the park. So many people think it is too crowded close up and think they have to sit far away by the docks. But I know Minnesotans, they always leave room between groups. We put down our blanket in a great spot and had a fine view of the show. It only took a little over a half hour to get out of town! We had to go south to Lake Lucy Road in Chanhassen, then over to 41 before going north. I remember years when it took over an hour to get out of Excelsior. So here you have it from the biggest worrier: You can go to the Fourth in Excelsior at 9:30, get good seats and have a good time. You do not have to be there all day. Hooray!