You might think that living in the land of 10,000 lakes one would not appreciate an OUTDOOR swimming pool. Today, at eleven in the morning a mother and her young daughter came out to go swimming. The eight year old is in the water while her mother sunbathes on the deck with just her legs in the water. The girl has mom's legs over her shoulder and says, "This might hurt, but..." and mom says, "But what?" The girl says, "But... oh well" and tries to pull her prone mother across the cement into the pool. She can't move her an inch and both laugh. I thought about all my mommy daughter trips to pools and beaches. The food, the drinks, the towels and toys, I did it all and that is the way it was and I used to think how easy it was having a lake or pool so close, not like the ordeal of going to Coney Island. But how easy is this? Put on swimsuit, lock door, go to pool. Time for lunch? Just go back upstairs. I am very happy with my pool side view.
I used to complain about camping. It was so much work. Shopping and cooking and getting everything ready and then having to cook while camping and cleanup and when back home having a ton of laundry to do. It wasn't that I hated camping, I hated the work. It never seemed like a vacation. But in the past few years I have been camping where others did the work and I must say, it is very pleasant indeed. The last three times have been in a tent. but this time I am going in semi luxury, a pop-up camper! It is still a little bit of work getting everything ready and this is what I had to do:
Pack clothes,
Prepare salad fixins
Figure out drugs and makeup
Get books to read
Arrange for Saturday entertainment for the thousand year old parents
Put a smile on my face and love in my heart.
Now I will turn off the computer and pack it away, lock the door and go out to meet my friends. Then it is off to sit in traffic while we and everyone else beat the weekend rush. The only thing left is to wish you all a safe and happy Memorial Day weekend.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Gambling and life
This morning the nurse at assisted care called to tell me my mother was not feeling well. She did not get out of bed and said her stomach hurt. The nurse called the doctor for instructions. His nurse didn't get back to them by two o'clock so I took her to urgent care. Today the old lady looked every day of her 96 years. She put on some makeup, but forgot eyebrows, her hair was awful and she asked if she could take the walker. When we got to the clinic, I got her a wheelchair which we got quite a lot of use of. She was seen by a triage nurse, another nurse, the doctor, two lab and one x-ray tech. Does she still have a bladder infection? Is it pneumonia? Hard to say but they have started her on another dose of antibiotics. They are doing some cultures, too.
She had not eaten all day and was weak, I called for juice and that seemed to revive her. The old lady is a fighter with a strong constitution and a strong will. Although she has most of her marbles she insists that someone gave her a pill that made her sick. She says that as soon as she took that black pill she got sick. She has no black pills. I had to remind her that she felt ill last Friday. She finally said she wants something to blame it on. She told me that as she lay in bed that morning she thought, "This is it, I am dying." We were at the clinic for nearly three hours and she kept saying I was a good daughter and I kept saying it was my pleasure to be there for her.
I feel like I am waiting for the first shoe to drop. One of them is going to die soon. I sure hope it is the old man, because he will not be able to handle losing her. I know he will have to go to Shalom Home if she dies. Everyday he calls me to find out what is on the table. Nothing Dad, I tell him. Today Laurel visited and took him to lunch. Monday Eri and I set up a new TV for the old lady. Nothing until Saturday, Dad. Now I have to figure out something for Saturday, I have been invited to go camping. Maybe the girls can take them to see Sex In The City 2. I know the old lady has been looking forward to it. She loves to look at the clothes.
I have been playing a new to me computer game called Farkle. I am pretty sure it is the same dice game that old Cousin Harriet used to play but they called it Bunco. You can play it alone or against a partner and up until now I have been playing for points. There is another option where you can play for chips if you meet certain conditions. Suddenly everyone who wants to play with a partner is playing for chips. I am not a gambler. I hate losing. But today I played for 100, 500, 1000, and 5000 chips. I won every time by careful attention and strategy. These chips mean nothing, every four hours you can play for more stash. Yet I found myself really wanting to win when thousands of chips were on the line. I got reckless, I got canny, I got sneaky. Phew, what a way to live.
For so many, many years I lived in a state of anxiety. I didn't know it until a doctor told me. When I came home and told S, he said he knew it and was surprised I didn't. Maybe it was losing my mother when I was young, or never knowing when the old man would explode, or always living on the margin, but I was always anxious. I was scared of my life unraveling and having to live in a shelter or go to jail, or something awful. In a way, that something awful has happened. But I have lived through it and I am not in jail, nor will I need to stay in a shelter. I have my health, and very much loved daughters and other family. No, I am not married. No, I am not working for wages. But I am gambling that by living each day and trying to love, I will prevail. There is no anxiety about that at all.
I want a job, and I want an income. By my actions I know I will become employed again. I also know that the end of my parent's lives are coming closer and that the comfort I provide, the availability of my presence is important. By divine grace and my efforts there will be a resolution soon.
Here is a joke that I read to the old lady while we were waiting for her prescription. I paraphrase:
An old lady was brought before the judge for shoplifting. "Mrs Kraputnik, what did you steal?" the judge asked. She explained that it was only a small can of peaches, just six peaches. The judge sentenced her to one night in jail for each peach, six peaches, six nights. As she begged for mercy Mr Kraputnik called out from the gallery, "She also stole a can of peas!"
My mother laughed until she cried.
She had not eaten all day and was weak, I called for juice and that seemed to revive her. The old lady is a fighter with a strong constitution and a strong will. Although she has most of her marbles she insists that someone gave her a pill that made her sick. She says that as soon as she took that black pill she got sick. She has no black pills. I had to remind her that she felt ill last Friday. She finally said she wants something to blame it on. She told me that as she lay in bed that morning she thought, "This is it, I am dying." We were at the clinic for nearly three hours and she kept saying I was a good daughter and I kept saying it was my pleasure to be there for her.
I feel like I am waiting for the first shoe to drop. One of them is going to die soon. I sure hope it is the old man, because he will not be able to handle losing her. I know he will have to go to Shalom Home if she dies. Everyday he calls me to find out what is on the table. Nothing Dad, I tell him. Today Laurel visited and took him to lunch. Monday Eri and I set up a new TV for the old lady. Nothing until Saturday, Dad. Now I have to figure out something for Saturday, I have been invited to go camping. Maybe the girls can take them to see Sex In The City 2. I know the old lady has been looking forward to it. She loves to look at the clothes.
I have been playing a new to me computer game called Farkle. I am pretty sure it is the same dice game that old Cousin Harriet used to play but they called it Bunco. You can play it alone or against a partner and up until now I have been playing for points. There is another option where you can play for chips if you meet certain conditions. Suddenly everyone who wants to play with a partner is playing for chips. I am not a gambler. I hate losing. But today I played for 100, 500, 1000, and 5000 chips. I won every time by careful attention and strategy. These chips mean nothing, every four hours you can play for more stash. Yet I found myself really wanting to win when thousands of chips were on the line. I got reckless, I got canny, I got sneaky. Phew, what a way to live.
For so many, many years I lived in a state of anxiety. I didn't know it until a doctor told me. When I came home and told S, he said he knew it and was surprised I didn't. Maybe it was losing my mother when I was young, or never knowing when the old man would explode, or always living on the margin, but I was always anxious. I was scared of my life unraveling and having to live in a shelter or go to jail, or something awful. In a way, that something awful has happened. But I have lived through it and I am not in jail, nor will I need to stay in a shelter. I have my health, and very much loved daughters and other family. No, I am not married. No, I am not working for wages. But I am gambling that by living each day and trying to love, I will prevail. There is no anxiety about that at all.
I want a job, and I want an income. By my actions I know I will become employed again. I also know that the end of my parent's lives are coming closer and that the comfort I provide, the availability of my presence is important. By divine grace and my efforts there will be a resolution soon.
Here is a joke that I read to the old lady while we were waiting for her prescription. I paraphrase:
An old lady was brought before the judge for shoplifting. "Mrs Kraputnik, what did you steal?" the judge asked. She explained that it was only a small can of peaches, just six peaches. The judge sentenced her to one night in jail for each peach, six peaches, six nights. As she begged for mercy Mr Kraputnik called out from the gallery, "She also stole a can of peas!"
My mother laughed until she cried.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Oceans
I took the old man and the old lady to the movies yesterday. Our choices were limited. We don't see anything with lots of explosions or violence. The old man refuses to see anything animated and most sci-fi is out. We see a lot of coming attraction trailers and the constant refrain is, "Remind me to miss that one." I told the old man I really wanted to see this nature film and he was fine with it.
First, let me talk about production values. The film was breathtakingly beautiful. Pierce Brosnan narrated and the music was lovely. It is pretty hard to make a comprehensive movie about the oceans of this world in 90 minutes, though. And after awhile it got quite soporific because there wasn't enough contrast. Pierce was always calm and erudite, the music was all of a key and for the most part the film was blue, blue, blue. The old man kept nodding off. At one point he woke up and said he did not want fish for dinner.
The memorable parts were different. Close-ups of amazing looking fish and animals kept our attention, especially when camouflaged fish would hunt. The most powerful image that persists is the very short one of man-made pollution. The sight of miles of plastic bottles and trash as seen from below was powerful, but the one that got my parents attention the most showed a shopping cart and detritus on the ocean floor. That scene was not blue, it was brown and dirty and ugly. My family have never been scuba diving or whale watching, and we don't raise tropical fish. We have been to the grocery store and the image of the cart hit home. We could relate to that and it made us ashamed for the actions of our species.
Another memorable scene showed two armies of spider crabs attacking. Suddenly hundreds and hundreds of these small creatures approach the same territory from different sides and climb all over each other. It was as stupid a battle tactic as I have ever seen. The parallels with humans could not be missed.
As I watched scene after scene of the beauty of our oceans unfold I made two goals for myself. I want to save money and go on a whale watching trip and also learn to scuba dive. I want to go under the sea and see the wonders of our ocean. Yah mon, Jamaica in January watching the pretty fishes sounds good to me. I'd better get a job.
First, let me talk about production values. The film was breathtakingly beautiful. Pierce Brosnan narrated and the music was lovely. It is pretty hard to make a comprehensive movie about the oceans of this world in 90 minutes, though. And after awhile it got quite soporific because there wasn't enough contrast. Pierce was always calm and erudite, the music was all of a key and for the most part the film was blue, blue, blue. The old man kept nodding off. At one point he woke up and said he did not want fish for dinner.
The memorable parts were different. Close-ups of amazing looking fish and animals kept our attention, especially when camouflaged fish would hunt. The most powerful image that persists is the very short one of man-made pollution. The sight of miles of plastic bottles and trash as seen from below was powerful, but the one that got my parents attention the most showed a shopping cart and detritus on the ocean floor. That scene was not blue, it was brown and dirty and ugly. My family have never been scuba diving or whale watching, and we don't raise tropical fish. We have been to the grocery store and the image of the cart hit home. We could relate to that and it made us ashamed for the actions of our species.
Another memorable scene showed two armies of spider crabs attacking. Suddenly hundreds and hundreds of these small creatures approach the same territory from different sides and climb all over each other. It was as stupid a battle tactic as I have ever seen. The parallels with humans could not be missed.
As I watched scene after scene of the beauty of our oceans unfold I made two goals for myself. I want to save money and go on a whale watching trip and also learn to scuba dive. I want to go under the sea and see the wonders of our ocean. Yah mon, Jamaica in January watching the pretty fishes sounds good to me. I'd better get a job.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
My favorite virtue
I was lying in bed, awake and aware at 4:20 and thinking about kindness. Without doubt it is my favorite virtue. "But what about generosity?" I asked myself. One can be generous for many reasons without being kind. Kind can be generous, but it might also withhold giving for the kindest of reasons. I love Truth, Justice, Honesty, Strength, and all the others. They are the ideals we strive towards. But Kindness is not an ideal, it is a way of living that knows no other.
I have noticed in myself and others that when a task is naturally easy we tend to brush off acknowledgment of it's worth. We give a compliment and the other will say something like it's nothing, no big deal, I enjoy doing it, think nothing of it, etc. The action is part of us, like breathing. So it is with kindness and generosity of spirit.
When it became very clear that my long marriage was going to end I made one demand. I wasn't giving up his family. For many years I have been closer to them than my own parents. They are kind people who don't think about being kind, they just are. That is not to say we haven't had our disagreements over the years; of course we have. What matters in the end is the loving acceptance of who we are and the appreciation of that bond.
I am not an exact person. Consequently some of my projects do not get the attention to detail necessary for success. I've learned not to cut fabric for curtains. I love blown glass and know that is a craft for me to admire from afar. My sister-in-law is a very exact person. For years I admired her bookkeeping skills. She would keep a journal of all expenses and it made her happy. We had children who started school the same year and although I bought the same number of school pictures, she was able to keep track of the portraits of four children and frame thirteen years for each. I have no idea where mine are. One day she told me how much she enjoyed painting. I mentioned that I hated the "cutting in" detail. I always got paint on the ceiling. She told me that she liked doing it.
So out of innate kindness and generosity of spirit she came over Sunday night and did the cutting in on the kitchen and bathroom. We talked while she painted and I intermittently worked at getting up the old linoleum. One funny thing I observed is that she watched "The Biggest Loser" reality show and I watched "America's Top Model". The thin watched the fat and the heavy watched the skinny. We talked movies and food and family. I kept thanking her. It was wonderful to me that she was doing an onerous task with such equanimity.
Today I did the roller part of the painting. Wouldn't you know it? I got paint on the ceiling and tiles. (I cleaned it up immediately!) I'm not sure if I love the color; time will tell. Now I am thinking about the rest of the dining and living space. A soft yellowish beige might be perfect. She says she will come back again and do the cutting in. That depth of kindness blows me away. To her, though, it just comes naturally.
I have noticed in myself and others that when a task is naturally easy we tend to brush off acknowledgment of it's worth. We give a compliment and the other will say something like it's nothing, no big deal, I enjoy doing it, think nothing of it, etc. The action is part of us, like breathing. So it is with kindness and generosity of spirit.
When it became very clear that my long marriage was going to end I made one demand. I wasn't giving up his family. For many years I have been closer to them than my own parents. They are kind people who don't think about being kind, they just are. That is not to say we haven't had our disagreements over the years; of course we have. What matters in the end is the loving acceptance of who we are and the appreciation of that bond.
I am not an exact person. Consequently some of my projects do not get the attention to detail necessary for success. I've learned not to cut fabric for curtains. I love blown glass and know that is a craft for me to admire from afar. My sister-in-law is a very exact person. For years I admired her bookkeeping skills. She would keep a journal of all expenses and it made her happy. We had children who started school the same year and although I bought the same number of school pictures, she was able to keep track of the portraits of four children and frame thirteen years for each. I have no idea where mine are. One day she told me how much she enjoyed painting. I mentioned that I hated the "cutting in" detail. I always got paint on the ceiling. She told me that she liked doing it.
So out of innate kindness and generosity of spirit she came over Sunday night and did the cutting in on the kitchen and bathroom. We talked while she painted and I intermittently worked at getting up the old linoleum. One funny thing I observed is that she watched "The Biggest Loser" reality show and I watched "America's Top Model". The thin watched the fat and the heavy watched the skinny. We talked movies and food and family. I kept thanking her. It was wonderful to me that she was doing an onerous task with such equanimity.
Today I did the roller part of the painting. Wouldn't you know it? I got paint on the ceiling and tiles. (I cleaned it up immediately!) I'm not sure if I love the color; time will tell. Now I am thinking about the rest of the dining and living space. A soft yellowish beige might be perfect. She says she will come back again and do the cutting in. That depth of kindness blows me away. To her, though, it just comes naturally.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
The view of two forty year old men
Work on the condo is going great guns! Sheetrock and sanding is done, time to prime because the cabinets will be here Tuesday! Three weeks early! The economy is bad for the building trade but great for the home improver.
Tony has been here every day this week. He put up the wall board and has done all the mudding and sanding. What a mess, a beautifully well-done dusty mess. We got to talking about kids. He has four, three boys and a girl and he says the girl is harder than all three boys put together. He despairs of her learning about responsibility. Turns out, he has never given her any, daddy mops up all spills. I don't think you can blame a kid for going over limit if she doesn't have to do the reconciling or pay the fees. We talked about family placement. It turns out Tony is the middle child. I'm a middle child too. At first he wouldn't tell me how many brothers and sisters he had. He is the middle child of SEVENTEEN! Seven women, two of whom his father married and most REMAIN FRIENDS! Tony's mother ran off when he was five and his father and whatever girlfriend of the moment was living with him raised Tony and whatever other kids were there. Sometimes two women would be living there, sometimes none. He learned to call them Mama Mary, Mama Marie, etc. I said that his father must be extremely charismatic and he just laughed. I asked how the other women dealt with it. His father told him, "A woman can deal with any truth better than a lie." I guess so.
I'd been flirting with a man online and last evening we met for a drink. We met at the W downtown and soon left. I could not handle the noise. We went across the street to the 8th St Pub and sat outside in relative quiet. (If you can call traffic zipping by quiet.) One of the things I won't do is meet a man in a relationship. I do not want to hurt another woman. If he lives apart, as S and I do, that is different. So we established he wasn't married, and he liked being with older women. It was just a drink. Guess what, oh, you've guessed it. He is not married but has lived together with his girlfriend for eight years. Does she know he dates? She might suspect he said. Is she OK with that? They don't talk about it. To give him credit, he doesn't say she doesn't appreciate him or anything like that. She is a flight attendant and he gets lonely when she is gone.
This was a very good looking, well dressed, forty year old professional man. He saw a crazy picture of me dancing (from Eri's wedding) and was attracted. I am not desperate, there are plenty of men who find me attractive, old and round as I am. I don't care that this man is in a relationship other than he lied to me. The fact is he is also lying to himself and his partner. I can meet a man in a relationship for a drink, knowing that it is only a drink. That is why I always insist on meeting in a public place. I'm not a fool or an idiot.
So on one hand, here is hard working Tony, raised in a very non-traditional household, working class, and covered with dust, and on the other professional Philippe, oozing charm and money. I don't want a relationship with either, but there is only one with whom I would ever consider being friends. If anyone wants an HONEST, hard working, sheet rock man, I have Tony's number. If you want to meet Philippe, just turn over a rock, or maybe a marble slab.
Tony has been here every day this week. He put up the wall board and has done all the mudding and sanding. What a mess, a beautifully well-done dusty mess. We got to talking about kids. He has four, three boys and a girl and he says the girl is harder than all three boys put together. He despairs of her learning about responsibility. Turns out, he has never given her any, daddy mops up all spills. I don't think you can blame a kid for going over limit if she doesn't have to do the reconciling or pay the fees. We talked about family placement. It turns out Tony is the middle child. I'm a middle child too. At first he wouldn't tell me how many brothers and sisters he had. He is the middle child of SEVENTEEN! Seven women, two of whom his father married and most REMAIN FRIENDS! Tony's mother ran off when he was five and his father and whatever girlfriend of the moment was living with him raised Tony and whatever other kids were there. Sometimes two women would be living there, sometimes none. He learned to call them Mama Mary, Mama Marie, etc. I said that his father must be extremely charismatic and he just laughed. I asked how the other women dealt with it. His father told him, "A woman can deal with any truth better than a lie." I guess so.
I'd been flirting with a man online and last evening we met for a drink. We met at the W downtown and soon left. I could not handle the noise. We went across the street to the 8th St Pub and sat outside in relative quiet. (If you can call traffic zipping by quiet.) One of the things I won't do is meet a man in a relationship. I do not want to hurt another woman. If he lives apart, as S and I do, that is different. So we established he wasn't married, and he liked being with older women. It was just a drink. Guess what, oh, you've guessed it. He is not married but has lived together with his girlfriend for eight years. Does she know he dates? She might suspect he said. Is she OK with that? They don't talk about it. To give him credit, he doesn't say she doesn't appreciate him or anything like that. She is a flight attendant and he gets lonely when she is gone.
This was a very good looking, well dressed, forty year old professional man. He saw a crazy picture of me dancing (from Eri's wedding) and was attracted. I am not desperate, there are plenty of men who find me attractive, old and round as I am. I don't care that this man is in a relationship other than he lied to me. The fact is he is also lying to himself and his partner. I can meet a man in a relationship for a drink, knowing that it is only a drink. That is why I always insist on meeting in a public place. I'm not a fool or an idiot.
So on one hand, here is hard working Tony, raised in a very non-traditional household, working class, and covered with dust, and on the other professional Philippe, oozing charm and money. I don't want a relationship with either, but there is only one with whom I would ever consider being friends. If anyone wants an HONEST, hard working, sheet rock man, I have Tony's number. If you want to meet Philippe, just turn over a rock, or maybe a marble slab.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Karaoke emotions
if you had asked me a few years ago if I would ever sing Karaoke, I would have said you were out of your mind if you thought I would even be in the same place as Karaoke. But when I joined a group that met on Tuesdays I was introduced to the doubtful pleasure of singing out loud in front of people. In the movie "My Best Friend's Wedding" Julia Roberts manipulates Cameron Diaz into singing a love song to her fiance, hoping it would turn him off and he would realize he loved Julia, not Cameron. But with tears of love, Cameron sings, quite awfully, to her love and he loves her even more.
Well, of that whole scenario, the only thing I have in common with Cameron Diaz is awful singing. The first time I tried it I had to have a friend sing with me and I nearly soaked my shirt with sweat. A year later, I get up with confidence and still sing rather awfully, and have a good time. Tonight I sang Bonnie Raitt's "Nick of Time." I really love that song. I love the rhythm and melody (when I can find it) and the lyrics. They really touch me. She talks about watching her parents grow old and them watching her grow old, too. Then she sings about when she had cried all she could cry and had given up, love found her, just in the nick of time. One woman sang two Judd's songs that I really like. When she sang "Mama he's crazy, and in my life is where he wants to be, I've never been so loved, he beats all I've ever seen, Mama he's crazy, crazy over me", I know that is what I want and that I won't settle for less. When she sang "Grandpa, tell me about the good old days," I remembered driving from Burnsville to Jordan with that song playing and little Eri singing along. I felt I was living that good life where daddies never went away. I remember being thankful for my life.
Today, I am more sure than ever that when I fall in love, if ever, it will have to be with someone who is crazy over me. I like my own company and am not scared of being alone. I miss dancing with my best friend, and laughing, and having a goal with a partner. That is too bad. It is not the end of the world, just the end of an era. Maybe I will find new people to laugh with, not just one. Maybe I will find a new group to dance with, not just one. Maybe working with others I will find a new goal that brings joy through effort.
I read inspirational quotes. I try to take them to heart. I know this life was made for joy, happiness, bliss, and serving the Creator and creation. I'm not going to be "scared to allow the time." I know that if I ever find love again it will be "in the nick of time" and it will be with someone who is "crazy over me." No fear, no fear.
Well, of that whole scenario, the only thing I have in common with Cameron Diaz is awful singing. The first time I tried it I had to have a friend sing with me and I nearly soaked my shirt with sweat. A year later, I get up with confidence and still sing rather awfully, and have a good time. Tonight I sang Bonnie Raitt's "Nick of Time." I really love that song. I love the rhythm and melody (when I can find it) and the lyrics. They really touch me. She talks about watching her parents grow old and them watching her grow old, too. Then she sings about when she had cried all she could cry and had given up, love found her, just in the nick of time. One woman sang two Judd's songs that I really like. When she sang "Mama he's crazy, and in my life is where he wants to be, I've never been so loved, he beats all I've ever seen, Mama he's crazy, crazy over me", I know that is what I want and that I won't settle for less. When she sang "Grandpa, tell me about the good old days," I remembered driving from Burnsville to Jordan with that song playing and little Eri singing along. I felt I was living that good life where daddies never went away. I remember being thankful for my life.
Today, I am more sure than ever that when I fall in love, if ever, it will have to be with someone who is crazy over me. I like my own company and am not scared of being alone. I miss dancing with my best friend, and laughing, and having a goal with a partner. That is too bad. It is not the end of the world, just the end of an era. Maybe I will find new people to laugh with, not just one. Maybe I will find a new group to dance with, not just one. Maybe working with others I will find a new goal that brings joy through effort.
I read inspirational quotes. I try to take them to heart. I know this life was made for joy, happiness, bliss, and serving the Creator and creation. I'm not going to be "scared to allow the time." I know that if I ever find love again it will be "in the nick of time" and it will be with someone who is "crazy over me." No fear, no fear.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mothers Day
Several years ago I was at a very low point in my life. I was looking for something to do to continue living. I had lost my helping job, my children were grown and gone and my husband did not want any of my nurturing. I defined myself by what I could give others and there didn't seem to be any other part of me. I went to a class and the teacher told me I had some serious self-deficiencies.
After our healing ceremony, I started to date. I was so starved for attention and fun and touch that I nearly exploded when a very nice man kissed me. He broke up with me within a week and I had to ask myself why I felt so sad. It wasn't because I was in love with him, not at all. I was having FUN for the first time in years. The last time I had that much fun was protesting through a Wal-Mart store in St. Paul. When I realized I needed fun in my life, I started seeking it.
I did a lot of dating and had a lot of fun. I realized I was so much more than a mother, I was a beautiful, if rounded, woman worthy of desire and I had a lot to give. It was wonderfully liberating and broke the chains of just being the helping mother. I rediscovered my femininity and other sides to my personality. It has been fun, but also sobering. Being a single woman at 58 is a much different experience than when I was young. I have so much more to discover about the woman that I am, and much of it includes learning to appreciate being alone.
Recently I have had the good fortune to be with a five month old, three toddlers and a three year old. I loved almost every moment of holding that baby, playing with those toddlers and talking to the big boy. My own dear daughter came over to color my hair. I still relish being a mother and know that part of me is alive and well. But now I know that being a mother means more than that nurturing. I know being a successful mother is being a whole woman.
Bravo to you my friends and readers for all you do for others and for what you do for yourself. Happy Mothers Day!
After our healing ceremony, I started to date. I was so starved for attention and fun and touch that I nearly exploded when a very nice man kissed me. He broke up with me within a week and I had to ask myself why I felt so sad. It wasn't because I was in love with him, not at all. I was having FUN for the first time in years. The last time I had that much fun was protesting through a Wal-Mart store in St. Paul. When I realized I needed fun in my life, I started seeking it.
I did a lot of dating and had a lot of fun. I realized I was so much more than a mother, I was a beautiful, if rounded, woman worthy of desire and I had a lot to give. It was wonderfully liberating and broke the chains of just being the helping mother. I rediscovered my femininity and other sides to my personality. It has been fun, but also sobering. Being a single woman at 58 is a much different experience than when I was young. I have so much more to discover about the woman that I am, and much of it includes learning to appreciate being alone.
Recently I have had the good fortune to be with a five month old, three toddlers and a three year old. I loved almost every moment of holding that baby, playing with those toddlers and talking to the big boy. My own dear daughter came over to color my hair. I still relish being a mother and know that part of me is alive and well. But now I know that being a mother means more than that nurturing. I know being a successful mother is being a whole woman.
Bravo to you my friends and readers for all you do for others and for what you do for yourself. Happy Mothers Day!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
My interpretation of that funny dream
It occurs to me that I can interpret my dreams as well as anyone else in a way that makes sense to me if I put my mind to it.
I have been thinking about my dream where the old lady happily shrinks away and the old man is looking for a place to plug in an electrical recharger. As the old lady ages and gets smaller, she is remarkably happy. Tell her she looks good and her day is made. She has always said that she doesn't want to live to be a hundred. She is shrinking, her world is shrinking, she is losing her short term memory and is ready to die when it happens. In my life her presence makes less of an impact and I will neither miss or not miss her when she is gone. It will be an end and a finish. She lost the power to hurt me. I never really invested in her.
The old man is quite different. He is hanging on to life with every ounce of being. He is confused and scared and who knows what else? He does not want to die and would rather be bedridden with no quality of life, should that happen, than die. Of course he is looking for that outlet for energy. The surprising thing is how I enable him. I help him look, crawling on floors, reaching for outlets. I say I want him to die, but I wonder, does my subconscious agree?
I have been thinking about my dream where the old lady happily shrinks away and the old man is looking for a place to plug in an electrical recharger. As the old lady ages and gets smaller, she is remarkably happy. Tell her she looks good and her day is made. She has always said that she doesn't want to live to be a hundred. She is shrinking, her world is shrinking, she is losing her short term memory and is ready to die when it happens. In my life her presence makes less of an impact and I will neither miss or not miss her when she is gone. It will be an end and a finish. She lost the power to hurt me. I never really invested in her.
The old man is quite different. He is hanging on to life with every ounce of being. He is confused and scared and who knows what else? He does not want to die and would rather be bedridden with no quality of life, should that happen, than die. Of course he is looking for that outlet for energy. The surprising thing is how I enable him. I help him look, crawling on floors, reaching for outlets. I say I want him to die, but I wonder, does my subconscious agree?
Monday, May 3, 2010
Funny dreams
The electricians were here today. I hid out in the "party" room upstairs. I thought I could use my computer but because I had no electricity for the router from my place for the internet, I wound up just resting on a couch and dozing. I had some doozy dreams.
The old man was in a nursing home and I would come visit. Somehow or the other he was in a double bed with some stranger. The old lady came to visit and she was only about three feet tall. "Ma," I shouted, "How did you get so short?" She laughed up at me and said, "I don't know. Am I short?" We went looking for the old man who was trying to find an outlet for a rechargeable something. I saw myself trying to reach across counters to plug in, crawling on the floor looking for an outlet. Suddenly S was there too and I was introducing myself as Carol Sandberg, daughter of Sidney Smoller but the nurse was thinking S was my father. But what was it all about? Teeth! The old man needed his old bridge fixed and suddenly my gold teeth were loose too. I was flipping out because I could not afford new teeth and such. Oy, oy, oy. But then I said I will charge them and went ahead and answered the phone which woke me up and heard the electrician say they were done.
So what does it mean? Probably nothing.
What a funny way to spend the day!
The old man was in a nursing home and I would come visit. Somehow or the other he was in a double bed with some stranger. The old lady came to visit and she was only about three feet tall. "Ma," I shouted, "How did you get so short?" She laughed up at me and said, "I don't know. Am I short?" We went looking for the old man who was trying to find an outlet for a rechargeable something. I saw myself trying to reach across counters to plug in, crawling on the floor looking for an outlet. Suddenly S was there too and I was introducing myself as Carol Sandberg, daughter of Sidney Smoller but the nurse was thinking S was my father. But what was it all about? Teeth! The old man needed his old bridge fixed and suddenly my gold teeth were loose too. I was flipping out because I could not afford new teeth and such. Oy, oy, oy. But then I said I will charge them and went ahead and answered the phone which woke me up and heard the electrician say they were done.
So what does it mean? Probably nothing.
What a funny way to spend the day!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
God on the elephant
There is a story from India about a holy man walking down the street. He saw a rogue elephant coming at him but wasn't worried because he knew God would protect him. On top of the elephant the driver was yelling "Get out of the road!!!" but the holy man continued knowing that God would protect him. The elephant trampled him and as he was lying there his rescuers asked why he didn't get out of the road. Didn't he hear the warnings from the elephant's trainer? The man said he thought God would protect him. He was told "That was God talking to you from the back of the elephant!"
Today, I felt like God bringing a message. I sat at a picnic table to enjoy a soft drink outside a store. There was an older couple and a bit younger woman with them and we talked about how 57 degrees could feel warm or cold, it was all in one's perspective. One thing led to another and the younger woman talked about having breast cancer. She was a one year survivor and wanted to die. I talked to her about both my mothers who had cancer. One died at age 42 and the other is a 30 year survivor at age 96. She just wanted to die. I asked her why she was so selfish. She didn't understand. I asked why she wanted to hurt her mother and father and daughter? Why would she deny her grandchildren a grandmother. She thought her life was worthless and I told her that God had put me there at that table today to tell her to work through her despair and become a stronger women and find her destiny. She was meant to inspire others. She hadn't, at age 40, begun to achieve her potential. and on it went. Her parents were quite happy but the woman said she just wanted to die. I said that she should do it soon to put everyone out of her misery and said to her parents that maybe she needed to go to a mental hospital. She had already been. After my drink I had to leave and I said to her that there was a reason I sat at her table today. It was to tell her to work on getting better and enjoying life.
Mental illness/health is such a hard thing. It is hard to get good care. It is hard to get holistic care. I do not know the answer.
Of course after feeling all spiritual and clean and wise I had to blow it. I had to see how very far there is still left to go. Hubris is a killer. Thanks for the wake-up call! I'll tell you what happened. I took the old man and lady to the movies this afternoon. We saw an absolutely wonderful film called City Island. We all enjoyed it immensely. Funny and hopeful and so real to life. Andy Garcia was amazing, as was the whole cast. As we were going to the elevator the old man got nastier and nastier. We got off on the mezzanine and he screamed he was going to pee in his pants. Well, there went my good mood. There went my happiness, I was pissed. Why didn't he just say he needed to use the men's room? Why did he have to put us down for discussing the movie? Why could he be scathing and not be able to just say let's hurry to the men's room. So when he came out I let him have it. I yelled at him for being so nasty and ruining my good time. He was fine, but I was a mess.
I thought we would go around the corner to a nice restaurant and on the way there the old lady got faint. It scared me. I could not carry her and there was no place for her to sit. Eventually we made it to the place. She had to sit down and rest and eventually felt like she could eat. A large Coca Cola helped restore her blood sugar and equilibrium. She kept saying how much better she felt.
So God in the guise of my thousand year old parents has spoken to me. Have patience with these old people. Have understanding of their frailties. Be the person I want to be, not just the mouthpiece. It is not enough to talk the talk, but I have to walk the walk of loving.
Today, I felt like God bringing a message. I sat at a picnic table to enjoy a soft drink outside a store. There was an older couple and a bit younger woman with them and we talked about how 57 degrees could feel warm or cold, it was all in one's perspective. One thing led to another and the younger woman talked about having breast cancer. She was a one year survivor and wanted to die. I talked to her about both my mothers who had cancer. One died at age 42 and the other is a 30 year survivor at age 96. She just wanted to die. I asked her why she was so selfish. She didn't understand. I asked why she wanted to hurt her mother and father and daughter? Why would she deny her grandchildren a grandmother. She thought her life was worthless and I told her that God had put me there at that table today to tell her to work through her despair and become a stronger women and find her destiny. She was meant to inspire others. She hadn't, at age 40, begun to achieve her potential. and on it went. Her parents were quite happy but the woman said she just wanted to die. I said that she should do it soon to put everyone out of her misery and said to her parents that maybe she needed to go to a mental hospital. She had already been. After my drink I had to leave and I said to her that there was a reason I sat at her table today. It was to tell her to work on getting better and enjoying life.
Mental illness/health is such a hard thing. It is hard to get good care. It is hard to get holistic care. I do not know the answer.
Of course after feeling all spiritual and clean and wise I had to blow it. I had to see how very far there is still left to go. Hubris is a killer. Thanks for the wake-up call! I'll tell you what happened. I took the old man and lady to the movies this afternoon. We saw an absolutely wonderful film called City Island. We all enjoyed it immensely. Funny and hopeful and so real to life. Andy Garcia was amazing, as was the whole cast. As we were going to the elevator the old man got nastier and nastier. We got off on the mezzanine and he screamed he was going to pee in his pants. Well, there went my good mood. There went my happiness, I was pissed. Why didn't he just say he needed to use the men's room? Why did he have to put us down for discussing the movie? Why could he be scathing and not be able to just say let's hurry to the men's room. So when he came out I let him have it. I yelled at him for being so nasty and ruining my good time. He was fine, but I was a mess.
I thought we would go around the corner to a nice restaurant and on the way there the old lady got faint. It scared me. I could not carry her and there was no place for her to sit. Eventually we made it to the place. She had to sit down and rest and eventually felt like she could eat. A large Coca Cola helped restore her blood sugar and equilibrium. She kept saying how much better she felt.
So God in the guise of my thousand year old parents has spoken to me. Have patience with these old people. Have understanding of their frailties. Be the person I want to be, not just the mouthpiece. It is not enough to talk the talk, but I have to walk the walk of loving.
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