Y2K+10

I wasn't one who put any energy into the Y2K hysteria. It seemed so Chicken Little to me, and after all the hoopla wasn't much more than an acorn falling on a chicken's head. To commemorate the occasion I purchased two drastically reduced tapestry calendars for posterity. They are in a box somewhere and in about three hundred years will be worth at least double what I paid. Too bad no one else was as farsighted (evil little chuckle).

Here it is ten years on and what has changed? It has been a decade of highs and lows, movement and inertia. I got out of food service and into a good job helping other people. Lost that job and spent years trying to get over that rejection. Now I am doing a strangely different food service job and seeing that I have sales skills. I understand that if I believe in a product I can sell it and if it doesn't interest me, I don't do a very good job. I adored the triple cream brie but could not enthuse over peanut butter creme sandwich cookies. I mean, what was the point? (Written by a true butter and chocolate enthusiast.)

In 2005 I moved my 90 and 91 year old parents from their home in Brooklyn, NY to an assisted living apartment in a suburb of Minneapolis. It was a hard adjustment for everyone and I am amazed to think we will celebrate the old lady's 97th birthday on February tenth. The handicapped sticker will expire in April. We all laughed at expiration date of 2011. No one thought they would live this long. I have been up and down with them, losing my temper in a big way every year and a half or so. At this point, although she can still annoy me, the old lady and I have a very good relationship. At least she SEES that I do a lot for them and tells me thank you. The old man is a mess. Skinny, weak, stubborn, sometimes on the ball, sometimes confused, and often very demanding. In some ways he reminds me of an old cat or dog. The difference is that one day the pet owner can make a decision to end that life, but as humans and caretakers we make sure life goes on. My late father-in-law once referred to pneumonia as the old folks friend, and when his mother who had terrible Alzheimer's Disease got sick, they didn't treat it and she soon passed peacefully. My father has had it twice and good antibiotics and excellent care saw him through. I might have to resort to a padded hammer. (That is a joke, folks.)

This has been a decade of hurt and hope and endings and beginnings for me personally. My marriage suffered a crisis, then a period of rebuilding, then a realization of ending. We had a healing ceremony and freed and forgave each other. But it is hard to part with an investment of over thirty years and sometimes I feel completely over it, and sometimes I hurt, and sometimes I cry. But mostly I am happy. I have dated some nice men who made me feel lovely and like I have a lot to offer. I have come to the realization that if I am not adored and adoring, I would much rather be alone. I'd like some companionship it is true, but I like my own company far too much to waste time dating the wrong people. I am open to the possibilities of a relationship should it come along.

Depression can be a killer and I experienced quite a long period of inertia, of only getting out when I had  to deal with something. I wondered why I was living, what was my purpose in life, or had I already fulfilled it and was it time for the next level? Meeting new people, taking care of my parents, and loving my daughters got me through those years as did medication. I will not say I am completely over it because depression is sneaky and sometimes comes down like a slow curtain and other times attacks like a sniper. The biggest weapon in my arsenal to fight depression is the perspective that it will pass and the faith to ask for help from the Creator. To understand that it is part of my life, but not who I am.

So, as this decade ends and a new one starts I wish for myself what I wish for others, love, compassion, success, good health and the ability to laugh at myself and enjoy this life. Happy New Year.

While my hair turns purple

While my hair turns purple, or more correctly burgundy...

Last week everyone was preparing for Christmas, guests, family, big dinners and party food. Watching what people put in their carts this week is a return to reality, vegetables, fruits, bread and the basics. No more giant hunks of beef and rack of lamb. No more trays of appetizers and boxes of truffles. Yet the demonstrations for salsa and hummus go on and on and on.

Working, even at a crappy job, has been good for me. I seem to have lost these past few years. I can't recall anything of any significance happening. I spent a lot of time in a depressed daze and doze. I remember feeling helpless and hopeless. I was walking on eggs, and, in fear of breaking them, just stopped walking. It was a hard situation for everyone to observe. I will always be in debt to S's family for providing a way out of purgatory.

Living alone has been good for me. Living with the boys, Piper and Little Mister, has been even better. Not that it will be a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I am a rotten housekeeper. There is a great satisfaction in having a clean house. I just haven't made the connection to keeping it pristine. I think at my age I never will. The only solution is to become wealthy and hire a keeper.

Which brings me back to working. As this year ends, I am going to try to find a better job. If anyone knows of a position for an erudite, creative woman with burgundy hair, please think of me. I have lots of experience in many fields.

There goes the timer now.

A Different Christmas

This Christmas was going to be different. This year I would be alone on Christmas day. We celebrated on Christmas Eve and I wasn't sad or lonely. I wrote in my blog that I was looking forward to spending some quiet time. But a friend invited me to spend the day playing games and eating with her parents and I wound up having a delightful time. I was not with the family I usually celebrate Christmas day, but they were still with me.

It is funny how our lives interweave. Erica was recruited to the National Guard by my friend Michele's ex husband. She used to babysit for them when their son was young. Then I met Michele in an online group and we became friends. Her parents are about my age and we had clicked immediately. While we were exchanging histories and stories, I felt my family near. I talked about my dear in laws, daughters, great nephews and their parents. I talked about my son-in-law and grandson. My parents, cousins, so many people.

The person I felt nearest to was my sister. She has a distinctive way of talking, fluttering her eyelids, moving her hands. She is uniquely beautiful and I love her dearly. Michele has those exact mannerisms; it is oddly wonderful and very entertaining.

We played a board game called Aggravation. We played Boggle and now they are addicted. (I only won by one point, eek!) Our dinner was delicious, prime rib. I have never liked that cut of meat in my life. I said I needed mine well done and it was cooked to perfection. It wasn't beef I was eating, oh no. It was the love and affection Michele and her mother had for each other. It was the hospitality and warmth to a stranger that I was eating, and as I said, it was delicious.

Isn't it great to be open to what each day brings?  I am the one who usually invites yet now I am the invited. This has been a wonderful, peaceful day. The boys welcomed me home. I am so happy to be alive.

Bending time

Little Mister Mischief, chief sweetheart and trouble maker thought it was about time that I got up and did what a human was supposed to do; feed him. He tried to be nice, rubbing against my back and purring, but I did not respond. Then he started pushing things off the night table, making as much noise as possible. I yelled, "Stop it!" three or four times and finally surrendered. They are fed and sated. Whether felines philosophize about the nature of time, I will never know.

Tonight, Christmas Eve, I am making Chanukah latkes for my daughters and son-in-law. It doesn't matter that Chanukah, a very minor Jewish holiday is long over, Christmas Eve dinner is latkes. Friends of mine have been making plans to celebrate their holidays at one set of parents one week, and with others on Christmas day. A birthday celebrated within the month is quite acceptable these days. It doesn't seem to matter what the calendar says, we bend time to suit ourselves.

It wasn't always like this. In the beginning, if we are to believe scripture, God created the world in six days and on the seventh rested. For centuries, people observed the Sabbath. Growing up in NYC, stores were closed on Sunday. You didn't have to rest or go to church, but few people worked. I don't remember when driving to Long Island to shop at Valley Stream covered mall became a Sunday destination. It relieved the boredom of football and golf on black and white TV.

Now, we live in a 24 hour society. Shop anytime at home or pick up milk at three AM. Who is staffing all these opportunities? People who have their Sundays on Wednesday. When the girls where young, dad worked Monday through Friday and the weekends were for bike races. When we started the business, Saturdays were for customers and when I started working banquets, all schedules for me flew out the window. I worked when there was work, not realizing the havoc no set schedule was making in our life. I was so excited to get a real, 9-5, weekday job. I thought we could go back to having a regular life, but time had moved on and nothing was the same.

A farmer knows one can't really bend time. It might be more convenient for him to plant in the fall and harvest in the spring; the cows can't wait months until he has the time to milk them. There are still schedules that are immoveable and the consequence for not obeying can be starvation.

I always thought I had enough time. I am a terrible procrastinator, and the kind of person who can make it come together at the last minute, or not at all. I can convince myself that I will do it later and it will be fine. Sometimes that works, but not all that often. Sometimes the opportunity is lost and never comes back. Applications not sent in on time, bills piled up accruing late fees, retirement not funded, and chances for love and affection set on the back burner to grow cold.

At one point I went to a shaman to ask why I sabotage myself by procrastination. She told me that in past lives I had made some really bad decisions, so am scared to move in this life. Be that as it may, (or may not) it didn't help this life. I can bend time to eat Chanukah food on Christmas Eve, but I can't turn back time. I am still 58 and in a precarious position. I am not in my 30's trying to establish a career and can't bend time back to make different life choices. Now is now.

And now is all anyone really has. I am going to try to use it wisely, but I am not making any promises.

Decreasing Holiday Stress

Working as a demonstrator at a warehouse store has shown me a whole new world of human behavior. And some of the time it isn't very good. I see the best and worst of people. I see parents teaching their children manners and I see other parents being manipulated by their kids. Once in a while I will look at a child and say, "I know I didn't hear you talk that way to your mother. I know you always ask nicely. Why don't you try it again?" But most of the time I just admire the babies and tell the little ones how wonderful they are. I compliment parents all the time on their children. Everyone is happy then. Oh, those babies. They are so beautiful.

Today I was demonstrating a 100% natural spinach, artichoke and parmesan dip. It is really tasty and I used 16 thirty-one ounce tubs in six hours. That is a lot of dip to portion out by the teaspoon. One man told me I should add more spinach and artichoke and take out the mayo. Didn't he understand that was what was holding the dip together? Didn't he understand that I only served it, I didn't cook the stuff? Didn't he understand that this is free food and if you don't like it, don't eat it? Nope, he stood there berating me. Oy.

People are stressed. The parking lot was full and people drove round and around. My niece, who works at the Mall of America could not find a place to park and actually went home so her husband could drive her back and drop her off at work. The supervisors are stressed. The cashiers are pressured to work faster. One woman I know who is working seasonal at FedEX is supposed to unload 1000 packages an hour. All for the holiday. Minnesota has wonderful snow removal, but people are stressed by the thought of more snow coming.

This year, my personal holiday is nearly stress free. I will make latkes for Christmas eve, and for the first time in 35 years, I will spend Christmas alone. I can go up to see my mother-in-law along with daughter and ex, but it is time to separate. I will still have a relationship with her because we do love each other, but the time has come for me not to be part of S's family celebration. I am thrilled to have a whole day for myself. Christmas was never part of my tradition and I could use the break. One daughter did tell me that I made Christmas happy for her as a child and hearing that meant a lot to me.

For those of you planning huge spreads this Christmas, give yourself a break. What your guests will remember is the love you put into the food you serve. Whether you get the finest proscuito or some a little cheaper, don't make yourself crazy. If you only have one appetizer instead of three, don't sweat it. There is no way you can fulfill everyone's wishes and no way you can make the holiday "perfect". Uh, uh, it isn't going to happen. There is nothing wrong with having high expectations, nothing wrong at all. But change the expectations from unattainable perfection to filling your get together with laughter and acceptance. Concentrate on making each other smile. Enjoy the ones you love, and try compassion on the ones who irritate.

I'm going to try to heed my own advice as we enter the homestretch towards Christmas. I will smile, smile, smile, no matter what. (That isn't a facial rictus, it's a peaceful smile. Can't you tell?)

Don't disrespect your spouse

I was flogging some kind of soup today when an old man came to get a sample. He liked it and I suggested he buy some. He would, he said, except for his shit for brains wife wouldn't eat it. I said, "Sir, please don't disrespect your wife." Then I turned away.  I wonder if that man realized how bad talking about his wife made him look? Not good at all, and very hard to respect. One of my coworkers was standing next to me and she was pretty shocked, too.

I told her the story of long ago when we lived in Jordan, MN. We hired a babysitter to watch the girls and off we went to the old theater in New Prague. It was a beastly cold night. At one point some teenagers behind us were making a lot of noise and I turned and told them to be quiet. One of them called me a bitch and S faced them and told them they were not to disrespect his wife. Then he went to the manager and had them kicked out. We spent the rest of the movie sitting stock still, wondering if they were going to beat us up when we left. As I said, it was a beastly cold night and they were gone when we got out. Whew! What a relief. If you gave me a million dollars, I still couldn't remember anything about that movie, we were that scared.

I am not a delicate flower, never was. Although S was always athletic, he was never a tough. He is better at intellectual argument where he will wear his opponent down with facts, either real or made up. So having my husband jump to my defense was a really wonderful thing. He had my back and I felt safe and secure. Another time when my folks were visiting the old man made me cry. At one point I said to S, "If you love me, you will call in sick today. Don't leave me alone with them." He went up to my father and told him that although I was his daughter, I was also his wife and he would not allow anyone to talk to and disrespect his wife that way. The old man is still leery of him.

This is the holiday season, a time for family. It is not always a happy time by any means. One way to weather the emotional storms that can come when families don't get along well, when there is poor communication or years of resentments that never were resolved is to be there for each other. Be a unit. What is done to one is done to both, and both do not accept poor behavior towards their spouse. There is such strength in being each other's best friend.

That is what I miss about being alone now; knowing there is no one at my back. That is what I want for all my married or committed friends and family, a certainty that the one you love will be there for you, through good times of laughter and scary nights at the movies.

Love and respect each other. There is so much strength there. You can take on the whole world... together.

Magazine covers

Today, I spent 5 hours pushing clam chowder across the aisle from a magazine rack. Every once in a while I would look at the covers. Elizabeth Edwards on People, gingerbread house on a cooking magazine, you get the idea. But there was one that really bothered me. On OK magazine, in large yellow letters: KENDRA LOSES HER BABY! Exclamation mark and all. I understand that this woman lives a public life, but come on, is this news? Is this any way to treat a personal tragedy? It made me embarrassed to look at it and realize we are living in such a shallow, voyeuristic society. After a while I crossed the aisle and put a photography magazine in front of the offending magazine.

Cosmo was interesting, though. 60 sex tips! It made me think that for me the first 50 would be about passionate looks and kisses. Then I noticed this teaser: Look Leaner When Naked! I had to scratch my head, stand sideways? Use dim lights, or get a full body Saran Wrap before taking off clothes? How much fat can one person suck in? Well, I never did read the article but bet that the only way to look leaner when naked is to lose weight and get toned.

It reminds me of comedienne Susan Voss. She said she was willing to do anything, ANYTHING, to get a fabulous figure. Anything, that is, except diet and exercise.

So on that note, I want to say I'm getting a little better everyday. Even made it to water exercise this morning, and although I wanted to go home, worked a full day. Thank you everyone for your kind messages of hope and love.

I've been humming this song, but I only knew the first verse. Enjoy.

Optimism and Depression

I am an optimist most times. I want to believe the best of people. I try to see the good in most situations. Most people consider me a happy person. Intense, for sure, but happy. I love to laugh and have a loud laugh. I giggle most inopportunely and love to express having fun. Sometimes reading funny books, I can hardly breathe because I am laughing so hard.

November is usually a hard month for me. The light dwindles, the sky gets grey, and I get sad. This year I bought a "Happy Light" by Verilux and started exercising at morning water workouts at the JCC. Last Wednesday my dad was in very bad shape with the start of pneumonia. I got a cold and needed to sleep more and missed class. Dad responded well to antibiotics and had a great time at Gavin's birthday dinner. I spent an good evening with a friend from out of town. I wasn't at the top of my game, but I was coping pretty well although I'd had a hard day or two around the anniversary of my mother's death.

Depression is a physical drain, it is an energy sap. It comes like a wave and I could feel it suck me in. It is physical and it is mental. And it is very, very real. I want to hide in bed. I want to sleep, and shut out the world until it passes. In past years that is exactly what I did sometime. Now I have a job and must go to it. Last night I saw S and when he asked how I was doing, I asked for a hug. Today, though, I could hardly stand and get through the day. All I could think of was when I could lie down again.

Having someone speak badly of me was a trigger. Having the cats spread trash all over was another. Having an upset stomach lowered my resistance. Worrying about family, watching the news, all affected my equilibrium and I got caught in the undertow of depression. It is exhausting and bleak and I know I have to go through the cycle, I just pray it is not a bad one.

What helps is knowing there will be a day, and I hope it is soon, where I will feel fine. I will have come out of the trough of depression and will be standing on solid ground. Even though I am depressed and have barely the energy to get out of this chair, I am still an optimist.

I dreamed of Snooki

This morning I awoke to the sound of cats playing with my earring hanger. I was loathe to open my eyes because I was watching a game show with that little Jersey girl, Snooki. She and her partner were debating a really easy question. Now I will never know the answer.

I don't know anything about this girl except what I have seen on the covers of magazines and SNL. but it occurs to me that her parents called her Snooki Wookums as a baby and never stopped, so people still call her Snooki. My own daughter, Erica, had a funny nickname as a baby. It came from a neighbor child calling her Ewita-tootie. Everyone called her Tootie. We moved when she was three and that was the conscious end of Tootie. Cute at three, not so adorable as an adult. (Just the name, she is still pretty cute!)

I am sitting by my Happy Light. It is a cold and grey day. Minnesota at it's worst late autumn. I had a hard day yesterday with my folks. On Tuesday I got a call from the old man, 95, that his foot was swollen. That reminded me that the old lady asked me to make an appointment to see a lady doctor. So on my break I called the clinic and was able to make two appointments for the next day, one at ten and one at eleven. Then to call the assisted living people to have my mom ready at nine-thirty and the old man at ten-thirty. I would make two trips because there was no way the old man could be ready before ten-thirty. Then I had to tell my boss I would not be in on Wednesday.

I got the old lady, 96, to the clinic and the complaint seemed to be going away. They told her the same thing I tell her all the time, she has to actually drink some water!!!!! The burning will go away if she drinks water, or juice or tea or anything but coffee. Coffee does not hydrate. I left during her exam so I could get the old man.

He is so weak. He is very vain and does not want to use a walker, so he falls. He has finally consented to a cane. It is hard as hell to watch him die by inches. He is very caustic and a clear, nasty speaker. Yesterday I asked him if he had his teeth in because he was slurring his words. He has some congestion of the chest, too.

I had told the old lady that I would take them both out to lunch, but when they started talking x-rays and ultra sounds I took her home so she could have lunch in the dining room. She was disappointed and started to complain. She wanted to have lunch out, I said well I wanted my life back. Then she started to say she wanted to die. How I didn't say, "I do, too" I will never know. I am glad I controlled myself, though. After we got to the car she said that she was calmed down and didn't mean it. I said I was glad.

They've ordered some physical therapy for the old man. They will teach him to use the cane. They haven't called me to say whether he has pneumonia, so it is probably just a cold. It was too late for lunch at the building so I took him for an experience. I brought him to Costco. He was able to get in an electric Scooter they have and drive around looking for bargains. He realized he didn't need anything. We shared a hot dog and slice of pizza. He enjoyed it and realized that he really doesn't want to drive anymore.

In February, it will be six years since I rescued my parents from NY. The old man was in a nursing home and the old lady was isolated in an apartment in the projects. Had I left them there, both would be dead by now. My sister disapproved of what I did, but came from California to help me pack and move them. During this time I lost my job. There was one six week period that I took my father to a wound clinic three times a week. After my mother got new dentures, I brought her back to have them adjusted twenty-three times, a new dental office record. I take them out every Saturday or arrange for one of my daughters to do so.

I left home at seventeen, the last time my father beat me. Why? I hadn't gone to the doctor for a cold. For that I was kicked with steel toed boots. Over the years I had therapy. I became a parent that stopped the cycle of abuse this generation. I visited NY every year or so and that seemed to be sufficient. As they got older and more frail, I fretted about what to do. My sister said she forbid me to take them to Minnesota. I spent hours on the phone trying to get home services for them, but they had too much money for aid but not enough to get services. It was a mess.

I don't remember when, but I had a very clear message from my birth mother. She wanted me to take care of the old man and my step-mother. Because she loved him, and I loved her, I agreed. Now that the old man is on anti-depressant, he is much easier to deal with, although he can still be a very nasty bastard. At one point I was seeing a therapist to deal with the way he was able to push my buttons, calling me stupid and lazy.

My goal, all along is to be able to say when they die that I have no regrets, that I have done everything to make their last years good ones. I do not know what happens when you die, but I do not want to spend another lifetime or eternity with these particular people. I want to finish our business this life. Over these past years I have grown in patience. I can sit at a restaurant and watch them share a cup of coffee. I can watch her dip her dentures in her water glass with total equanimity. I can sit patiently while he takes an hour to eat stone cold pancakes. But a day like yesterday is very trying.

It is not the bogus complaints. It is not the time spent with them that upsets me. It is the realization that I have not come to a place of not being resentful of the time they take and how l still want to be appreciated. Nobody expected them to live six more years. I know it is me keeping them alive. They have to stay and teach me the lessons I need to learn until I get it right. I look at myself, I want a job in the helping area. I want to join the Peace Corps when I retire. But right here, right now, I have a volunteer job in service to others. It is hard to look the mirror of my hypocrisy.