Thursday, March 31, 2011

I'm just a girl who can't say no (But once in a while I do!)

If you were to ask me if I am a generous person, I would probably say yes. I have given away boatloads in my life and consider mean spiritedness in others a major character flaw. Yet there are times when I have to look my generosity in the face and accept that it is easy to give when one has an abundance to share and not so easy when it comes to things I want to hang on to.

I don't think many of us growing up in my neighborhood had a lot of extra. We lived in small apartments and had school clothes that had to be taken off when we got home, and play clothes and one outfit for special occasions. My friends had one Barbie Doll, I had a Vogue Fashion Doll. We had a stuffed tiger and corduroy dog. My sister had a kind of Humpty Dumpty soft toy and we had some hand me down Ginny Dolls from a cousin. Monopoly, Sorry, Chutes and Ladders, Candy Land (my all time hated), coloring books and crayons. I don't think we were deprived. We used our imagination and had lots of fun.

When I was in High School, I came into possession of a gorgeous red designer coat. It was truly beautiful and I loved it. My parents and I had found it at Loehman's and watched it being reduced from week to week. When it got to a reasonable price, they bought it for me as a birthday present. It had to have been the finest garment I ever had in my life and I treasured it. I think it may have come straight from an atelier because the pockets were sewn on by hand and I had to be careful not to put much in them. One day my Aunt Judy asked if her daughter could use that coat for a date. I said yes, because it was expected of me but I put so many conditions on her borrowing it that Judy just went and bought her a coat. I felt guilty, but that coat was precious to me and I didn't want to share.

Later on in college I got involved in a movement that asked us to give up all the things we could to raise money. No problem until I was asked to give up a simple ring that had belonged to my birth mother. I did it and felt bad. I still regret giving it up.

When I got interested in photography my husband invested in a good camera for me. It meant the world that he would buy me something so precious. I took good care of it and didn't let anyone else use it. Years later he offered it to a niece who was taking a college course in photography. I freaked out. That was mine, he couldn't just offer something so valuable to someone else. It might get stolen or broken and then what? He had no idea that Miss Generosity could act that way. I apologized over and over, but I could not lend it out.

It was a joke to my daughters not to admire anything of mine too much because I would always offer it to them. One year Eri admired a new pair of Romika sandals and I reluctantly gave them to her even though I liked them. A year of two later she asked if she could have my new red Dansko sandals and I surprised us all by saying no. It was surprising, but it was fine. Yeah, Mom could have her own shoes.

Now a friend is collecting for a young woman and her daughter who lost everything in an apartment fire. I started looking around for what I could give.  When I moved into my own place I only took things that I really liked and needed. This place is small and there is not a lot of room for excess. What I found was I didn't want to give much up. A few cookbooks, a few utensils, my sweet stuffed dog, Rocky. I gave the larger box of Kleenex, but when it came to the glassware I baulked. I love the stupid Shrek glasses from MacDonald's and don't want to break up the fine Mikasa set.

I saw my ex and his assistant at Costco later in the day. I told them this story and Toreeta has a brand new quilt to donate. I was feeling guilty for not giving more, for saving the things I wanted for myself. I told them that Jesus said if a man had two coats and his neighbor none, he should give the neighbor the better one. I was confronting my own selfishness when S reminded me of a long held family saying. "If you give away your frying pan, you only have to buy another." Thank you to the voice of reason.

Friday, March 25, 2011

The Midnight Crazies

It has been awhile since my last blog, twelve days. There are three different starts in the draft file. Two titled Growing Old Is Not For Sissies and one titled Here Comes The Sun. But there really isn't anything new to say about my thousand year old parents, and it snowed, hard, on the morning of my pean to spring. I still don't have much to say, but feel it is important to keep writing. It helps to clear my mind and although I know a few people read this, it really is for me. Posting it is just exhibitionism. (Hey! Look at me!)

Why does anyone engage in self-destructive behavior? Why do I? Why do I procrastinate taking helpful action when I know it will ease anxiety? I really don't know. I've been to counseling. I've been to a shaman. I've read a book by a medical mystic. I've bought books on organizing that sit on the shelf because I have put off reading them. Intellectually, I know what needs to be done, but somehow, just like Oprah, I haven't made the connection. Unlike Oprah, I don't have a staff that does what I command. I do have the occasional helpers, but ultimately it is me.

Years ago I went to Malibu for a party given by the leader of the meditation movement I belong to. S and I were living in Flagstaff. He couldn't take time off from school and work so I went with a few other people from our local group. We had to drive across Arizona and California and then park at the bottom of a winding road up a small mountain. As I climbed the steep road I longed for my partner to be with me. I wanted us to be making that trek together. But as I ascended, step by step, I realized that each of us walks this road of life alone. There are people who can keep you company and make the journey lighter, but only we can move our feet.

So... how can I move my leaden feet and do what needs to be done? The first step for me is to make a list. And every list starts like this:
Make list (Harder than you might think. I have to find a piece of paper and pen. I have to actually DO something.)
Take shower
Get dressed
Eat breakfast.
Empty dishwasher
Put away laundry

Then we get down to the nitty gritty:
Pay bills
Make appointments (for whatever needs an appointment)
Return phone calls 
Sort mail and clear table
Clear counter
Read email and send out a resume
Go to bank
Go to dry cleaner
Go to (wherever)

What I usually do without a list is this. Get up, feed cats, test blood, eat something, make bed, get on computer and check email and facebook until it is time to rush and get ready for work, if working, or tell myself to go back to bed. I also clean the cat box and berate myself for not doing what needs to get done.  There are no easy fixes except to get off my hinder and start. Somedays I can and those are good days, and somedays are harder, but they can be good days too. When my children were small, I had to take care of them and it gave my day structure. So, too, with working.  When I was actively married there was accountability and responsibility. But now, it is just me. I can't blame the spoon in the sink on anybody else. This is my mess. I make it and I must clean it up.

I called this blog the midnight crazies after the silly cats who chase each other all around and the thoughts that keep me up. Here is George, Ringo, Elton, Eric and others to sing, "Sun, sun, sun, here it comes."








Sunday, March 13, 2011

Fun with Sidney and Harriet

Scene: Kerasotes ICON Theater, St Louis Park, MN.
Cast: The Old Man, The Old Lady, The Intrepid Daughter

Today was bitterly cold in a different way. Instead of just being bone chilling cold there was a wet windy bite that knifed through all layers, but they still wanted to go out. The old man read a good review of "Cedar Rapids" and wanted to see it. I had a Groupon for 2 tickets for $10.00 to the fancy new theater, so away we went, on to the theater!

Have you been to one of these ICON theaters? The lobby is at the top of a three story escalator that goes straight up to a huge atrium. We took the elevator. Then there are stairs or an incredibly long ramp to the lobby. No place for the old people to sit while I bought the tickets, so they leaned against the wall. Usually, the old man sits in back, the old lady in front, and I go back and forth between them every so often. But at this theater you have to pick out your seats on a touch screen and those are the seats you have. I explained that we would all be sitting together at the back of the closer section. Then we started the trek. We passed the restrooms, theaters one and two and then slogged up an incline and another and finally got to theater 10. Then down a couple of corridors. The old lady started breathing very heavily and I made her stop. I took off her coyote coat and hat as she caught her breath. She was actually sweating, and I thought she might collapse. But no, she started to feel better and I was able to get her down a step and into a chair. When I turned to my dad, he wasn't behind me.

I looked up and he was making his way to a far row, a little old man on a mission. "Dad, Dad," I tried to get his attention. Finally he looked at me. "You have to sit with Mom and me," I called. "Those are reserved seats, come sit over here." By now the entire auditorium was watching the Sidney and Carol show. I meet him as he descended and helped get him situated. He couldn't understand why he had to sit so close. The old lady said she was cooling off which was good. At last the previews began and I have to admit, the seats were very comfortable and the picture quality excellent.

Cedar Rapids is a wonderful movie about innocence and honesty and corruption and hypocrisy. It is entertaining and surprising and altogether lovely. I laughed and was touched and enjoyed the entire short eighty-seven minutes. The old man stayed awake the entire time. As soon as it was over and the plot explained to the old lady, she decided it was good. When she asked him if he liked it, the old man said he loved it.

We started the trek back to the lobby, stopping along the way to rest and use the facilities. Down to the parking lot; my car parked right next to the door. On our way to dinner, the old lady said, "It's a beautiful theater but I never want to come here again." We need one of our little neighborhood six-plexes. This was just too huge with inclines and passages. At 97, and somewhat blind, Harriet is game for almost anything. Have cane, will travel. At almost 96, the old man just can't get around the way he wants. He is angry at how weak he has become.

We ate at Chili's and because we had our movie stubs, took home a couple of free pieces of cheesecake for the old man, as well as six ribs and lots of fries. They drank two for one Blue Moon beers and the old lady enjoyed pretending she was tipsy.

I remember being a typical young teen and not wanting to be seen on the same street with my parents, and even five years ago had no patience to watch them eat. Now I can sit with equanimity and wait and watch as they enjoy their food in their own inimitable way. It isn't because they have gotten easier, not at all. It is because there has been a change in me. I want to be loving and I feel it might be sooner than later. I told the old lady that I think she will make 100 and she told me she doesn't want to. The fact that my father is still alive is pretty amazing and makes no sense at all. I can't see us going to the movies every week as we have in the past. But as long as they want to keep going out, I will try to find places they like to go.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Life is good

On one hand I watch 92 year old Ginger Rogers dance salsa with her 29 year old great grandson. He dips and lifts her and I applaud just like the rest of the audience. Then I turn on coverage of the Tsunami in Japan. A wall of water just washes away everything in its path, houses, farms, cars, roads. Where I can't imagine dancing that way when I am 92, not being able to dance that way at 59, at least I can comprehend it. Yep, natural talent and constant practice. But the tsunami and earthquake, that devastation is beyond my ability to understand.


I forget that we are living our little lives on a big blue marble in space that has a molten core. Some people think the Earth itself has a consciousness and a life above and beyond us. If that is true, maybe earthquakes and tsunamis are no more than the planet belching. We are just little ants on the surface going about our busy little lives without wondering about the surface below our feet. It is not God being angry, or retribution for our sins. It is what happens according to physical laws on our planet.


I am sorry for the people of Japan who have unimaginable pain, disbelief, and sorrow to deal with. I am concerned for all coastal people who must live in readiness for what might be coming. I send my heartfelt wishes for their safety. And yet, after Haiti, Katrina, and all the man-made horrors we inflict upon ourselves, today I can still say that life is good.


In the words of the writer Kurt Vonnegut, "And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is." 




Sunday, March 6, 2011

What you see

Wednesday evening I arranged to meet a charming man at Rojo, an upscale Mexican restaurant. We decided to have some appetizers and soup in lieu of a full scale dinner. I suggested the Mexican grilled corn. It is usually wonderful, rolled in butter and cheese. He remarked that I was very brave eating corn on a first date. Really? I like corn and I had a napkin, what was so brave?  I said the worst that would happen is we would get some on our faces or teeth and then we would wipe it off. I said "This is me; what you see is who I am." He answered that very few people are that way, at least in his experience. But then again, he has spent his life in advertising.

Clearly there are dating rules I am not aware of. In this world of texting and email, what are the rules? And do I have to follow them?  I am not a big rebel rule breaker, it is more that I have a hard time following them. I goes before E, except after C, I need to check every time. Email after dinner, or text after coffee, and who makes the first electronic move? I have a nice time, I send a thank you. I don't want to repeat the experience, I send a nice thanks, but no thanks. Someone told me that these days you just don't get in touch again and expect the other to know what that means. To me it means rudeness, although I shouldn't take it personally.

I wonder about people who put up a dating facade. How long can you keep it up? How long can you pretend to be someone who you think you should be instead of who you are? Can you imagine the surprise when you start to show your real personality? Hopefully, it is a charming surprise, but I imagine it isn't always. Why should I pretend to know baseball if I don't?  Once in a while I lie to protect other's feelings. But other than that, why bother? I can't keep the stories straight; better to tell the truth.

What other things don't I know? Are there other things I should know about dinner? What else shouldn't I order? I have heard that there are women who order the a meal and only play with it. If I am invited to dinner I am going to eat and enjoy it. Oh, oh, I've thought of one... don't order dessert unless he does! Am I a catch or what? Yes, what you see is what you get, and boy are you lucky.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Apnea and Insomnia

I have never been a good sleeper. The old lady says it used to scare her when I would wake her up screaming as a little girl. They would come in and wake me up and I would go back to sleep. As I got older, I stayed up later and later reading by the light from the hallway. I still don't understand why I never just got up and read in the living room. It was probably forbidden. "Go to bed!" The first night I was away at camp, at age sixteen I kept my cabin mates awake with my noise.

At age twenty-one, I received meditation techniques that allowed me to tap into the energy that keeps us all alive. I had a profound experience and stopped fearing death. I was never a very faithful meditator, but I know it is there and stopped screaming in my sleep. I toss and turn and talk and sit up and make all kinds of noise. At the same time I am also a very sensitive sleeper. I used to complain about my husband's snoring. He told me I snore. That didn't bother me since I was asleep when I snored. (Sometimes, though, I would wake myself up with a loud snort when I fell asleep in the passenger seat on a trip. It always embarrassed me.) He started using Breathe Right strips and his snoring didn't bother me anymore since it became very rhythmical. How he ever put up with my shenanigans is a mystery to me. My daughters would become very alarmed when it seemed I stopped sleeping.

About eight years ago I was diagnosed with sleep apnea, a condition where I stop breathing, wake myself up, and go back to sleep. It could happen thirty or forty times a night. Obviously one does not get good deep sleep if one is always waking up for a moment. At the sleep clinic they tried me with a cpap machine that administered continuous air from a mask and it showed deeper sleep. I got a home machine and could never adjust to the mask. I tried four different masks and always wound up pulling it off after about two hours. Last year I went back to the clinic, was given a different mask that I seemed to tolerate better, but still could not wear for very long. They never told me at the clinic that about 40% of all users can not be helped by cpap.

My brother in-law told me about a dental device that helped him and I went to a special dentist to get one made. The dentist was upfront and told me that about 30% of the people he treats do not get relief from the apnea. The only way to tell was to go back to the sleep clinic and have them hook me up to all the machines and watch me sleep while wearing the device, which is a lot like a mouth guard and a retainer. I don't think I can afford 20% of $4,000. to find out if it is effective. I already know the answer: It is and it isn't. It takes care of the apnea but does nothing for the insomnia.

Tonight I was quite tired and went to be just before ten. I didn't read, just put in the device, closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I awoke, I figured it had to be at least four or five in the morning. But when I looked at the clock, it was only 11:53! It wasn't even two hours later. It wasn't even midnight. Holy Toledo.

I am not upset, but I am disappointed. Now I will stay up for awhile, reading, playing on the computer, maybe watching some TV. I don't have to stay in bed reading by the hall light. I am an adult and live in my own home with plenty to do.

Sleeping pills make me ill. Readers, if you have any cure for insomnia, please let me know.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

A life in motion

I must admit I have not been looking forward to turning fifty-nine. Don't think for a minute that I wanted to die at fifty-eight, oh no. But it sounds so old. Sixty is just around the corner. If I could do any decade over again, it would be this one. I feel like I slept for five years, deep in inertia, sadness and fear. And now that I am active, mentally and socially, I can't help wishing I did things a lot differently. I know, I know, water under the bridge, acknowledge and move on.

I had a really good birthday. John spent hours sitting at the table sorting papers into piles for me to deal with. We threw out a ton of paper, trash and recycling. Eri kept me on task and the bedroom floor is empty.  The file cabinet is moved into a corner of the dining room and the boxes that sat in that corner are gone. I really appreciated the gift of their time. Laurel sent beautiful flowers that are perfuming the air around me and a dear friend took me out to dinner. Facebook friends sent birthday wishes; perfect.

There is a part of me that is quite frightened to be this age and alone without a good job. There is a little voice that tells me I will never get a good job if it doesn't happen by sixty. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Listening to that voice is counterproductive. Listening to that voice is a waste of time. Here is one truth, it is hard to get a good job at any age and harder as one ages. Here is another truth, we only have today, right now. If I spend my life worrying about what is going to happen, I am missing right now.

Here is my plan: I am going to wade through all these papers and do what needs to be done. I am going to keep my eyes and ears open for opportunities to be of service and make a good living. I am going  to give praise for life and try to see the positive in everyone I meet. I will try to eat well and get back to the pool and exercise room. I am going to look for opportunities to dance. I've done inertia, it doesn't work. A life in motion is much more fun.