Sur la Table, ooh, Sur la table!

Now that my kitchen is almost complete comes a catalog of wild desires. Not necessarily my desires... but some people's. We start off on the cover with the most beautiful glass beverage servers, each with it's own dedicated stand and label hanging on a chain. Here is a press and grill accessory for making sliders and plastic baskets and checkered papers, just like going to a cheap restaurant! Little piggy bowls, and, be still my heart, the Margaritaville Frozen Concoction Maker 2000. With it you can make everything from a daiquiri to a mudslide; and only $349.95. Time to throw out the old blender indeed.

As I go deeper I find a rack for grilling Chili Pepper Poppers or even Creme Brulee. Baskets, stones, humidifiers and more all for the outdoor grill. Oh right, I don't have one but I can use those belonging to the condo. Maybe we can buy a Mario Batali Amici Brick Oven. It is portable on wheels and available in red or black on sale for $3,475.00. I'll bring it up at the next association meeting.

Last fall I bought new cookware and I have been quite happy with it. Bronze colored Analon that I got a great deal on at Macy's. I should have waited for this sale. There is a twelve piece Demeyere Atlantis Cookware set valued at $1,895.00 on sale for $1,650.00 plus free shipping!

Don't get me wrong, I love Sur la table and love the little tomato bowls I found at Goodwill, (what a find! Score!) and the French rolling pin I bought in Chicago. Now they are here at 50th and France Ave and I got some wonderful little doodads with the $10.00 gift certificate they sent me as a welcome present.

When I was the worst dressed kid in school, or at least felt like it, I was happy until I found out what was cool. Now I dress myself just right for me, and have a little condo with a kitchen that is just right for me. I look at those huge kitchens in the magazines and wonder what could they have in all those cabinets? Thanks to Sur la table, now I know! But even with all that space, is there a place for the Tupperware?

Giving offense or instigating change?

There is a group I belong to on facebook that posted a sort of nasty message. Basically it said that they were the original of that subject and that others should not copycat. They should be original. I posted that they were using a famous logo with a little change and they should live and let live. I do think facebook is big enough that there can be two groups on the same subject. The original poster said that what he was doing is called creativity. I had to laugh, but I just checked back and my posting had been deleted. Whoa! But then I noticed the new logo, not quite so fancy.

One day my thousand year old father told his doctor to lose some weight, he was getting tubby. (Yes, that's where I get my tactful nature.) We had another appointment several months later and the doctor had lost weight. He told the old man that he did it for him. Well the old man is always on me about my weight and he doesn't inspire me at all; his comments just piss me off.

Years ago we lived in a town with one school bus stop. Ninety kids would gather and act like kids. I went before the school board and asked for a stop nearer our home. I offended the vice principal/bus coordinator by telling the board that if there wasn't a change I would be back every meeting until my youngest started school in two years. By the end of that first year I did get the bus stop but that man was still angry at me. I made him change his schedule and every time he saw me he gave me a little pinch. I finally had to tell him to get his hands off and stop hurting me.

In every relationship there is a subject or two that causes friction when discussed. I tried to get around the friction in every possible way from straight talk to coming at it sideways to using a sweet voice to saying I wasn't making judgements. Nothing worked. There were just some subjects that were TNT. My partner got around this by not discussing them. It didn't get easier and the subject didn't go away. We just slipped into inertia. Nothing was discussed and nothing changed.

I am 58 years old. If I live to be 98, I have another 40 years, but in reality probably not that long. I do not want to live in a state of inertia and denial. I do not want to give offense either. I want to be honest, and funny, and loving, and make others feel good. But I am not a tactful person and on occasion I will inadvertently give offense while in conversation. Please don't take it personally. Call me on it and I will apologize for hurting feelings. I want the best for my family and friends and don't always use the right words to express those feelings.

The nicest blind date

A lovely man took me to dinner tonight and I had a wonderful time. He is charming, originally a Jersey boy.  He is my age and we had so much to talk about. Our families came from the same part of Russia at about the same time in the early 1900's. Without prior meeting, we had history and spoke the same language. I knew his references and he knew mine. We spent almost three hours over dinner and I was not bored once. We said goodbye outside the restaurant and soon after I got home he called to tell me what a nice time he'd had and looked forward to seeing me again.

Before my marriage ended I said that I would never date again. The thought gave me the willies and I was so glad to be over that particular activity. I found though, that I am a social person and I missed being around a man and started dating. I've met some delightful gentlemen, some less than stellar individuals, and a few so shy they made no impression at all. I am not one for long emails back and forth. I like to meet in person.  When someone from Michigan wrote expressing a desire to meet I said sure. If it happened, fine, but I was not holding my breath waiting.

My delightful date will be heading back to Detroit in the morning. Not holding my breath; I hope his business brings him back soon.

My job

Sometimes I get low because I have not had a paying job in quite a while. I think I am wasting life and talent and time. Today, though, I realized I do have a job. It has paid for many of my expenses and even some luxuries. That job has been to be a caretaker for my parents. It was while I was in a dressing room with the old man, tying his shoes that the epiphany happened. The old man remarked that he could not do this without me, go shopping alone. He couldn't find the racks and the fitting room and the men's room, to say nothing of actually getting to the store. He has had a lot of disdain for the way some of the elders in his building dress. I gently said to him that is why so many in his building wear the same things over and over. Some can't afford new clothes, some have nobody to take them shopping, and some can't even speak English. He had to agree.

In the car the old lady said that she was much easier than the old man. She just picked out her shoes. I said that I was the one that brought all the different styles to her, as well as the shorts and capris. She just had to sit there. She laughed and made a joke that we weren't counting that. I took them to Byerly's and the sweet waitress couldn't get their order right and the old lady acted just like a spoiled brat. The server brought some jelly and the old lady sneered, "Too late." I pointed out to her that she still had three slices of toast left so it wasn't too late and did she want it? No. Usually it is the old man who complains.

My job these past five years has been to prolong life and add quality to that life. There has been true learning and growth on both sides. The old lady has become a more appreciative person. She is no less self centered, but does realize what others do for her. The old man, who knows? It is amazing to see him shrinking before my eyes, getting so very skinny and frail. He can be clear and perceptive, but some of the time he doesn't understand what is going on and I have to repeat things until they sink in.

As with any job there has been a learning curve. At first I thought they could do more than they can and I introduced too much too soon. There have been months when I took one of them to a doctor or dentist every other day. There have been times when I blew my top and screamed. I even worked on some issues with a counselor. I will do all I can for people but being called stupid for not being a mind reader will push my red button. I don't know if my parents understand the depth and breathe of the sacrifice I have made to give them a better life. Probably not.

What have I gotten out of this? I have learned a patience that I never thought I could achieve. I have become more compassionate and accepting. I handle what is thrown at me. That is not to say I float like a lily over the muddy water. I get tossed and dirty, but not as emotional as in the past. I realize I took on a huge task without understanding what I was getting into. I did it with a firm determination and it is my task and no one else's although I do appreciate the respite my daughters, especially Eri, have given me.

As somebody who has been obsessed with time and timelines, I have learned they are artificial markers. Things take as long as they take. I thought I would be at a different place in my life at this age. I thought my parents would be dead, I would have a good job and be making a difference in this world. They say to think globally and act locally. Now I am acting on a very small stage. I haven't cured cancer, or brought clean water to a village, stopped war and taught the world to sing. But in my life I have stopped a cycle of child abuse, raised wonderful human beings, and brought comfort to some sad old people.  When I lost my job I kept saying that the right thing was out there waiting for me. Little did I realize that taking care of my thousand year old parents is the right thing for right now.

Shrek is back and Fiona is kicking it!

I liked the original Shrek and loved Shrek 2. Shrek 3 left me quite unsatisfied. I hated the whole premise of Shrek inheriting Fiona's kingdom. So it was with low expectations that I went to see Shrek, Forever After, yesterday. It was terrific! The critics gave it a C-, but I give it a big A+. One critic compared it unfavorably to It's a Wonderful Life, one of my all-time most disliked films. (Jimmy Stewart's voice gets on my nerves.) There have been many movies with the premise of what life would be like without a particular person. This one just rocks. I did not see it in 3D but that mattered not at all. I like being an observer in Far Far Away. That is all I am going to say although I don't think I could "spoil it".  If anyone wants to go see it, I will gladly go with you and enjoy myself again!

I walked out of the theater with a huge smile on my face and strolled into Chipotle still smiling. The tacos were quite delicious and everyone smiled back at me.

Take care of joy

Today I stopped at Costco to see S. I was feeling so happy and wanted to thank him for helping me. I told him I was so very happy and feeling so much joy. He was happy too. He really wanted to do the best for me and end things in a graceful way. I wound up crying and hugging him.

Someone texted me asking how I was. I told him I was the recipient of a gift. He asked what the gift was and I replied, the gift of happiness from God. Just feeling good, and peaceful and appreciative, that certainly is a gift of Grace. He said his counselor told him he should look for contentment  within.

I went on facebook to play a game and they have changed the rules. I looked for a message board and it was filled with complaints, to which I added my two cents. Then I looked at another group which was bitch, bitch, bitch. Suddenly I realized, I was not quite so happy. Surrounding myself with negativity was sucking the consciousness of joy away from me. Whoa Nelly! Back away quickly and do not get caught in that nasty mess. Surround myself with the positive and stay well away from the complainers.

"Truth is the consciousness of bliss." As true now as the day I first heard it in 1973. When I am feeling that deep seated joy, that bliss of just being alive and breathing and part of creation, I know it is true. When I am feeling anxiety, my back and stomach start to hurt. Breathing is not easy and I am in a state of dis-ease. They say, "Let go, let God," or surrender, or put your faith in the Creator. Sometimes, though, that is easier said than done.

But joy is not hard at all. The state of appreciation and contentment is relaxing and peaceful, full of creative energy and love. The only hard part is not talking oneself out of it. Yes! I deserve it, and so do you! Stop analyzing and start experiencing the joy that is available. Take tender care of joy, and joy will take tender care of you.

Happy weekend!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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?

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!

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.

Another day of living

What a strange and wonderful day this has been. I am thinking of old cousin Harriet right now. When asked about her secret to long life she would say she said her prayers each night thankful of her blessings, let all resentments go and wake up each morning looking forward to the day ahead. She didn't dwell on the past or worry about the future. She was a very cool old lady.

I woke up this morning feeling well. Why I went back to bed after breakfast I do not know. I started to think about this evening and thought my son-in-law might like to listen to some friends of mine in a band. Spoke to him and he thought it sounded fun. About one o'clock Eri came over. I was surprised to see her but she told me she had been let go from her job. She was still in her 90 day probationary period. It wasn't a very good job but I guess she wasn't the right fit. She was not too upset, but it is hard all the same. I asked if she would come listen to music but she doubted it.

An hour or so later, out of the blue came a call from an old high school friend. We had rediscovered each other on facebook. She has been going through a hard time and I sent her my phone number if she wanted to call. We wound up talking for over an hour. It is so funny to talk to someone from NY. They say my name in a very particular way, sort of Caaarol. After about 45 minutes she told me I was starting to sound like my own self. I was probably picking up NY. My friend is depressed and I know how hard that can be. One of the hardest parts is getting help. We all need advocates and my friend is alone. Believe me, getting mental health services is very difficult. I hope our talk helped her. I know that it helped me see that although I am not where I want to be financially, I am for the most part pretty happy with my life.

Later in the afternoon a counselor from HIRED called me. He had been given my case and wanted to know how he could help me. I ranted for awhile about applying online and not even getting electronic acknowledgement of application. Next week he is going to have me work with a electronic resume specialist. Couldn't hurt.

Tonight I went out to the Hopkins American Legion to hear my friends play music. Their band is called Uncle Funky and they are an extremely competent cover band. I do not understand this Legion post. Hardly anyone goes there. Huge bar and dance area and just a handful of people. I sat with a couple of friends at the only occupied table. One couple danced and Sherri took pity on me and danced with me once. I went up to 5 old farts at the bar and not one of them would dance. Oh my gods, when you can't even get an old fart at the legion hall to dance... maybe I will post on Craig's List "58 yr old woman wants to go dancing. Must be able to laugh. Must be self supporting and able to hold a conversation." Whaddaya think?

I think tonight I will emulate cousin Harriet and thank the Creator for my blessings and hope to wake up tomorrow with a good attitude. I forgive all who have hurt me and ask forgiveness from those I have hurt.

An evening of winning and losing

I've started going back to a friendly Tuesday night meet-up with nice people, some singles, some married. It is a traveling meet sometimes in Savage or St Paul. Tonight it was in Hopkins, just down the street. I went and sat with friends while enjoying a veggie burger and tater tots. Gosh those are great junk. Since I am always my own designated driver, I don't drink. Tonight I stuck with water.

It was bar trivia night and we made a little team and called it the Ho Ho's because we were jolly and love chocolate. It also sounded a little nasty. Oh I am a wild one, competitive too. About three quarters of the way through two teammates left and a new friend joined our group. He was a tall good looking guy similar to Bill Clinton in size and coloring. I did not tell him that. We did well on the first round getting ten out of ten and eight out of ten on the next. Not so great on the third round but I was having fun. I sat down next to the new guy and we were having fun getting to know each other.

I remember talking with my sister-in-law several years ago and telling her that if I had to date again I just wouldn't do it. The reality is that one gets lonely. I am terrified of rejection and would never just go sit at a bar and wait to get picked up. Who has the patience for that? Not me. So I have joined groups. I actually wrote my number on a piece of paper and because I thought I would like to see him again sometime, I gave it to him.

Now to the winning. My team won trivia! I got a $20. gift card to use the next time we meet at that place. That was cool.

Now to the losing. In an instant the subject turned to politics. He is an Obama basher who loved Bush. He accused me of being an Obama worshiper and gave me back my number. I don't worship Obama, and I am not crazy about some of his policies. I mentioned that Bush suborned the Constitution and this guy said Obama has done much worse and they are all crooks. There is no talking to someone with a closed mind. Just try me on the subject of the Bush Administration. I'm as closed as they come.

At the end of the day I'm starting to think it is all winning. I won trivia and I put myself out there. I met someone and I didn't have to kiss him to find out he is a frog. I still have half a sandwich and a gift card, yep, I'm a winner all the way.

Another use for old undies

I have trouble. Trouble cleaning, trouble sneezing, and trouble throwing things away if there is the slightest possibility of ever being used again. Today I conquered all. (Hey it is my blog and I'll write what I want).

I sneezed while sitting at the computer and eating cereal. The LCD screen and surrounding area got spotted. I looked up cleaning laptop screens and found the correct way to do it by using distilled water and very soft cloth. Those old cotton panties that I shouldn't wear performed perfectly.

To critics I say, "That is why I have these old worn out panties!" So there, and na na na na na.

It is funny, during my marriage I wore old nighties and granny panties. When I started sweating so much at night I bought a slew of new nighties because I needed up to 3 a night. When I started dating I went and bought some nice new microfiber undies. Not bikinis, but not quite granny either. It didn't matter that no one was going to see them. I just needed to know I wouldn't be embarrassed if anyone did.

We have all heard it a thousand times but it bears repeating. Don't take your spouse for granted. Don't get too comfortable. Wear your nice things for him or her. Treat them as not something that is always there, but as someone precious who you are grateful to have in your life.

Please listen, you don't always get a second chance.

When the going gets tough...

... the tough go shopping!

I have two daughters who I admire so much. If they go to the mall to buy a pair of jeans and the first pair fits, they buy the jeans. Their mother, on the other hand, has to try on every pair of jeans in the mall and then gets too tired and confused to buy any. Last Saturday we moved the fridge out of the kitchen and into the dining/living area. The motor continued to run but the compressor or whatever stopped sending out cold air. Uh oh. That happens very often with older appliances; move them from the place where they have been for 20 or 30 years and they go belly up. So, I had to go shopping.

I started out at Appliance Mart and did not see anything wonderful or wonderfully priced. Off to Best Buy where they would give me a lot of credit for no interest for 18 months. But I wanted to buy American and everything would have to be ordered and it would take at least two weeks. Then Sears, then Home Depot and finally Lowes. At Lowes I bought a larger Whirlpool fridge, and an over the stove microwave and for another $212.00, a new dishwasher, too. Who knows if this old one would work again when reinstalled. I insisted on made in America and I got it at a good price. The energy savings on the fridge alone are huge, something like $49.00 a year to run.

I do not want appliances built in Mexico or South Korea or Indonesia. Is it because these appliances are poorly built? Not at all. It is because I want to protect the industry in the United States while expressing my feelings. The workers in those other countries are getting a fraction of what American workers are getting yet the prices are very comparable. Who is getting rich and who is getting screwed?

I saw a Santoku kitchen knife at Macy's. It was made by Wusthof in Germany and cost about $170.00. It is a thing of beauty made by skilled artisans making a good wage. I saw a good Santoku knife at IKEA that was about $17.00. It works very well. I might be a hypocrite for buying it. I know the workers aren't making a good wage, yet it was reasonably priced considering the overhead. They didn't say it was the same as Wusthof and did not charge as much. I guess we all chose our battles and have reasons for what we do.

Because the fridge died I had to wash containers that had been in the freezer. I stood in the bathroom and did dishes in the basin. The radio was on and one of the sponsors was a water awareness foundation. Here I was with running hot and cold water right at my fingertips. I had a small sink to use with pipes that took away the waste. There are millions and millions of people in this world with limited access to safe, clean water. I knew as a child that eating the peas on my plate would not help the starving children in India. Does making sure not to run extra water make a difference in Minnesota, the land of lakes? I don't know. For a long time I have been wondering about where to put my do-gooder energy. Human and economic rights are dear to me and I have been political for a long time. Child abuse, corruption, wasteful packaging, animal rights, sexual slavery, the list goes on and on. We do have to choose where to put our energy. I am going to try to work for the right for all people to have safe and clean water. There is no argument that anyone can support against it. Watch this space for updates.

Is it a real friendship or only social networking?

Years ago someone wrote to Miss Manners saying that she and her husband used to work as executives at a large corporation. They did a ton of entertaining with people who worked there. They felt they made some real and lasting friends but when they retired, all those work friends seemed to melt away. The writer wanted to know what had happened to their social life. Miss Manners gently pointed out that they had confused work relationships for friendship. When the proximity and shared interests were no longer there, neither was the relationship.

So too can be the "friends" we make online. I had an example of this brought home to me recently. I used to belong to an adults only website and had a wonderful time corresponding with people all over the country. Many of those same people are on facebook and I kept up the social networking. One of those contacts is going to be in my area and I wanted to meet while they were here. I was told that we really did not have anything in common and there was no interest in meeting. Ah well. At first I had that immediate rejection reaction and then I realized it was refreshing to be told the truth. Why waste time? Although I have many people marked as friends on my profile, I realize not all of them are friends. Some are just part of this social networking phenomena.

My email name is friendindeedy. It comes from the saying, "A friend in need is a friend indeed, but an all the time friend is better." If you have me marked as one of your friends, I AM your friend, whether we have met or only corresponded. And if you don't really want or appreciate my friendship, just delete me. I won't mind.

What a mess!

My back hurts from bending over and picking up shards of wallboard. What a mess. There is so much to pick up and it seems like as much as I pick up, there is more left to do. What a mess. Wires hanging down, watch out for nails. There is so much dust. Everything is covered in white dust. Man, what a mess.

I think about those pictures I have seen of Pakistan, China, Chile, and Haiti. What a mess. What monumental job to clear away the rubble; where does one begin? I have seen film of the destruction left by floods, all the mess and all the mold. I don't know how people survive. Is it because everyone is in the same predicament that they can go on, working together to make new lives? I don't know. I think about New Orleans and wonder if it will ever be cleaned up. The poor Haitians, where is the light at the end of the tunnel for them?

I am redoing a small kitchen. There is an end in sight. There is a small amount of dust and dirt and the knowledge that within two months everything will be beautiful. And if not beautiful, clean and efficient.

How lucky I am. There are no bodies under my rubble. This is not a disaster although it certainly looks like one. This is a choice, oh lucky me. How can I complain about anything when life has been so good to me, and I have a dusty bed to lie in tonight to count my blessings. My apartment is a good and true mess, but I am blessed with life and the knowledge it is a blessing. Is my life a mess? Only if I want it to be.

Thank you S, thank you Erica, thank you Johnny Angel (you're an angel to me).

Get out of the kitchen...

Or should I say, get the kitchen out of this place? Tomorrow S and John and Eri and Gavin are coming over to break down walls and get rid of cabinets. It is going to be a mess and I am excited to get started. I am not taking any pictures this time because I don't want any reminder of just how awful this kitchen is. I just want to enjoy the new. At the old place I took before and after pictures because I was proud of my yogurt colors kitchen and the lovely maple one that replaced it.

Nobody gets the kitchen of their dreams. This one will certainly be nicer than the one it is replacing, but it will be nowhere as nice as the one I left behind. Sometimes I think I miss the kitchen and the porch more than anything else at the house. It took a long time to decide to redo the kitchen and I didn't think I would be the one leaving it. We had the money for about nine months before S told me to order the cabinets. I loved the maple and the jade-like counters, the deep sink and modern faucet. I loved the turntable corner cabinets and the surprise ironing board in a drawer. Ah well.

It will be interesting to decide what goes where. It will be interesting to see where I put the silverware. Even after years of reaching for the forks on the right in the new kitchen, I still would automatically go to the left from the old set up. I don't have an idea of what color I will paint things and if I might put up some tile as a back splash. I don't know what kind of floor I will put down either. Using the old appliances is saddening, but it all comes down to dollars. One day I will get a nice fridge again.

I built the old kitchen with the understanding that we would stay married. It hasn't worked out that way. These past two years I lived in the house in such misery I rarely cooked anyway. This is part of my new start. Not a kitchen as a dream, but as a practicality. Veneers instead of solid, Formica instead of stone. I don't know how much cooking I will do.

Maybe I will be a career girl bringing home takeout. Only time will tell and I am grateful for the time and the freedom and the love that is being shown to me by my family. One good thing about marrying a good man, he stays good even when the marriage is over. I appreciate S, still.

It only takes a minute

I brought the old lady a new lamp today. It is a cheap gooseneck in bright fushia with a low energy bulb. She needs it to put on her makeup. Ninety-six years old and legally blind, she still wants to look her best. Frankly, she doesn't do too badly.

I told the old man I bought the old lady a lamp and he wanted to see it. I started out of the living room and there was a bang. He had gotten up too fast and fell over knocking the old lady over too. The glass top on the little table got knocked off and there was candy and nuts everywhere. The old lady was able to get up once I pulled his weight off her, but the old man just was confused. He could not figure out how to get up on his knees and pull himself up on the couch. Somehow I got him up. He is so frail and brittle, it is amazing he did not break a hip. Thank goodness the old lady takes the bone strengthener. She was unhurt but the surprise made her pee her pants. What a circus.

It only takes a moment for a life changing experience to occur. They both could have been terribly hurt. The old lady told him in no uncertain terms that he was to use the walker when they went to the dining room for dinner. He agreed.

I know this is the beginning of the end for him. It hurts me to see him so frail and confused. He doesn't understand why he is so weak. He doesn't understand how much he is declining. The other day he wore a crazy outfit. Not that that is anything new, but this was so very weird. He wore a torn t shirt with a Golden Nugget logo on it under a suit. If there is anything the old man is, it is vain about dressing nicely. If he was in his right mind he would never wear that. Sure he has never understood color, but he would never wear something worn out.

I hope it is quick. Who thought they would still be alive five years later?

Feeling liberated

I am not someone who quietly grows like a lotus. I am someone who springs up like a weed. I am someone who can not keep a secret, nor do I want to. Being told I couldn't talk about the demise of my marriage was a cancer to me. I rotted on the inside and a foul odor surrounded me I am sure. The isolation I felt was debilitating. I never want to feel that shut up again.

Some time ago I started to rediscover my femininity. It was fun and liberating and I needed to talk about it. I needed somewhere safe and non judging. I needed to talk and be listened to, I needed support. I was lucky enough to find an adult website that fulfilled these requirements and blogged my heart out for about a year. Then my membership ran out and I couldn't justify the cost of joining again. For six months I tried blogging other places and was not satisfied. Mainly because I didn't get feedback and support. So I joined again for half a year. I started posting more of my general blogs here on this site, and although I got lots of feedback on the other site, I have only gotten six responses here. Once more I let my paid membership go.

It has been two days and I am feeling liberated from the addiction I had to checking responses on the other site. How many people read my blog? How many responded? Who else has posted? Do I have any responses? What is going on in the forums and how can I have spent all day there? Guess what? I don't miss it at all.

I am hoping that more people will read my blogs and find them interesting. During the last year I have found myself blogging about my thousand year old parents and their antics, and more general subjects. I am realizing I need to make more connections and not just rely on the people who stumble by. Here's the deal, I'll read and reply to you, if you will read and reply to me. What a bargain! Cheap at twice the price.

Mr Bigstuff, who do you think you are?

There comes a time when hearing aid users need servicing. Both the old lady and the old man needed theirs worked on and I made an appointment to have them see S. He is selling more in 2 days than we used to sell in a month when we were in business for ourselves. (Sigh) Incredibly busy but if he has a few moments between appointments he will try to deal with walk-ins.

He was still helping a woman when we arrived and there was a very large man waiting outside the test booth. I asked him to move so I could sit my parents down. I asked if he had an appointment? He answered with a strong Russian accent he just dropped by to see S. I told him that we made an appointment. The assistant asked if he wanted to schedule a time to see S. No, he would come back sometime.

Finally the woman left and as S escorted my folks into the booth he asked where Mr E had gone. That is Mr E? Our eldest used to swim with his youngest. I said I told him we had an appointment and he should make one. S said he never does, just expects to be waited on.

Mr E was an incredibly powerful business man. He was CEO of a fortune 500 company and flew about the world in a private plane. He had assistants and his assistants had assistants. It was a huge deal if he ever came to a swim meet. Now he is retired and expects to be treated more importantly than others. But he isn't Mr E of the big company. He is just another customer and my thousand year old parents, who had an appointment, usurped his assumption of personal importance.

I have been reading a book about ignoble things royalty has done and said and the way they died. No matter who you think you are, you live and then you die. It is how you treat others that counts more than what others think of you.

Mr E! S will see you and fix your hearing aid ... you just have to make an
appointment.

Noisy!

This condo is quiet. I mean really quiet. I am on ground level with spancrete above me and a fire wall between me and my widowed neighbor. Sometimes I hear the elevator and some plumbing. Usually, I don't hear anything. Since it has warmed up, the birds have been chirping nonstop.

This morning I heard children laughing. So cool. I love it. And this afternoon all kinds of people are on their balconies. My building opens onto a park filled with people. Easter Sunday in Minnesota. Not too many bonnets, but families everywhere.

Easter is not from my tradition. I did small baskets for the girls when they were young. They were shocked, and I mean shocked when I didn't do baskets after they were out of high school. I did buy everyone a Dove solid bunny and make Matzoh Brei for breakfast, though. These past years with just S sometimes around even that has gone by the wayside.

I saw S on Monday and made a list of some things I would like from the house; my bicycle and planters. We also have to do taxes. He told me he would come over Sunday afternoon. I just called him. He said I bet you are wondering where I am. Our daughter and her husband had been over at the house getting their bikes and he was just loading up my stuff. I told him where to dump the dirt from the planters and we laughed. Whether he gets here before dark is anyone's guess and whether he will have the papers I asked for is doubtful. It is too easy relax into old habits and expectations. I found myself going there and stopped. I looked at what I was doing and made myself stop.

I had been feeling a little blue. Poor me, all alone on Easter, not invited to be with anyone. How I was missing my old life. No chocolate bunny, nobody to share the Matzoh Brei. Big deal. Not a big deal at all. Just a beautiful spring day, the sun is shining and children shrieking while the the birds endlessly sing.

She really IS losing it

When I went to pick up the old lady for her doctor appointment today, the old man was dressed in his going to the clinic outfit. It is a dark velour tracksuit that he goes commando under. I told him it wasn't his appointment but he decided to go with us anyway. As luck would have it, he got to be seen for his itchy back too. "See? You don't know everything!" It is true they've written libraries about things I don't know.

Trying to give the old lady regular assessment tests is difficult. She is legally blind and only has peripheral vision, plus she is a functional illiterate. So spelling tests are always interesting. They asked her to count backwards from 100 by 7. My gosh, can you? Well her stress and anxiety level went through the roof. No! Do not give her math. The last time she had these kind of tests she was truly insulted. They asked her to name animals and she could only name a few. This time she was prepared; zebra, tiger, lion, elephant, cow, dog, cat, mouse, snake and whale! Ha ha! They wouldn't fool her again. But she could not remember a list of three words given at the beginning. The clock face she drew showed her poor vision. But the joy of getting things right was intense.

She had some blood drawn and a urinalysis. No infection anywhere. Dr S told us that by age 85 one in three people had Alzheimers, and by her age, 96, it went up to two out of three. Eventually, if you live long enough, you probably will get some form of it. So he felt she was in an early stage. Not to be confused with Early Onset Alzheimer Disease which can strike as young as 35. She does not want to take any medication for it, though. The old man got furious at that. Why not? He feels you should fight at all costs. She feels like when it is time to go, then go.

He, of course, for five years running complained about his back itching. Before we left the house I said it was the same old dry skin and he had two choices, die or itch. Turns out they are going to put him on a tiny bit of prednisone, a steroid. I joked that he didn't have to worry about his balls shrinking (they are almost halfway to his knees these days) and he said it didn't matter if they did shrink, they were no good anyway. Dr S was so funny as he explained those were completely different steroids. He was concerned because the old man is down to 130 pounds. The old lady is thrilled that she is down to 137. They have both shrunk in size and Dr S made her cane shorter which added to her comfort.

Then off to Byerly's for pancakes and eggs. They make their own sausage and his was about five inches long and as fat around as a hot dog. While waiting for him to finish I did some grocery shopping for them. Coca Cola and ice cream, the real essentials of life. When I came back he was yelling at her for not knowing something, to the discomfort of the other patrons. Oy vey is mir.

On the way back to their apartment the old lady commented on what a wonderful day it had been, just like a vacation. She really is losing it.

Be Kind

At Costco I saw an older woman standing behind her car in a handicapped space. She had big boxes in the cart and I asked if she needed a hand getting them into the car. She said no, her husband was coming. And here he came, a great big white haired man leaning heavily on his cane. I realized she still saw him as quite capable. She told him what I asked and said, "Isn't she kind? She is so kind."

What had I done? Nothing, as it turned out because he put their stuff in the back seat. I had only asked, yet she was stunned that someone had stopped to ask. Has kindness gone the way of the horse and buggy? Something to be hauled out and put on parade and put away all other times? Something the old lady says her mother used to say is that it costs no more to be nice.

I am talking beyond nice. Nice is a dime a dozen, nice is the cashier saying have a nice day. Kind isn't always nice. There is a song "Cruel to be Kind". I just listened to it and I'm not sure that I agree with all the sentiments. Nick Lowe sings "You have to be cruel to be kind in the right measure..." and that is true of all kindness; in the right measure. We kindly remove a child from danger even though the child is furious.

It isn't kind if your actions take away another's independence and strokes your own ego. Kindness is in the way you live. There is another word used a lot these days, mindfulness. Being mindful is in essence being kind to ourselves, our family, our community, our world. Being kind is trying to live in way that doesn't intentionally hurt others. Being kind does not mean being a doormat, not at all.

The one thing that attracted me to my husband and his family are their innate kindnesses. It was a wonderful treat to be with people who are kind. They are not saints, and have their own mishegass (Yiddish word meaning quirks and craziness) but are kind, whether opening their home to mother from Chile whose child was in the U of M hospital, to opening their hearts to a Jewish girl from Brooklyn.

Kindness, mindfulness is not a destination. It is the daily journey, with diversions along the way. It is a road to keep coming back to. At the end I want this on my headstone: She tried to be kind.

Let's all try, let's all do. I want kindness to be as ubiquitous as the auto, always there, not a buggy hauled out for a parade.

She is losing it

On the way to New Jersey this month, the old lady, 96, kept asking me to tell her what we were doing that evening. After the fifth time I told her that Bob was picking us up and Iris was making dinner I said, "Mom, don't get senile on me now."

My step-mother Harriet is smart without being educated. She memorized the reader before she entered first grade. When called to recite, she was word perfect although she couldn't read. In a class with 60 children she was passed on to the next grade where they found out she couldn't read and put her back. She hated school and left at age fifteen to become a hairdresser. She still does her own hair, although I color it. She has been legally blind for years. She learned to cope by feeling the food she was cooking. And until recently, she could still design and knit or crochet her own clothing. I taught her to read a pattern about 35 years ago and she made the most amazing creations. Even with her awful eyesight she can still do nicer crafts than the other ladies at her building.

One thing that drives us all batty is that she never forgets. She remembers the dress her mother made her for a show when she was in grade school. She remembers something I said at eight years old and she remembers every slight and every compliment ever given. But now she is losing her short term memory and I am wondering how to deal with it.

We went out to a Chez Daniel in the Embassy Suites on Saturday. They make a really wonderful rack of lamb that they enjoy very much. In between the soup and the entree they serve a little ball of sorbet to cleanse the palate. The old lady loves it and finished it in a trice. After our dinner plates were taken away she asked where the ice cream was. I said, "You mean the little scoop of sorbet? We already had it." We talked about it for awhile and then the server brought us chocolate covered strawberries. She asked why we hadn't had the ice cream. I told her we already ate it. I said, "Mom, do you remember we just talked about it?" No, she didn't.

My parents do not sugarcoat reality. In fact the old man scrapes away any sugar that might make life sweeter. I said I was concerned about her memory and I hope it wasn't the beginning of the end. She said she'd had a good run.

The thing about short term memory loss is that it is so very frustrating for the people around it. The one whose memory is failing doesn't remember that she asked that same question or told that same story many times in a short period. It is hard to keep patience with her. I'm not an awfully patient person to begin with and self centered repetition drives me crazy. (As my ex used to say, "And for you it is a very short drive.")

Tomorrow I will call the gerontologist and leave a message. I am not sure whether this is the start of something worse or what but her doctor should know. She is a frail old lady with a grip of iron and a zest for life. If she dies before my old man I will have no choice but to place him in long term care. It won't be long term though. He will fade away without her.

Here is the great Jimmy Durante singing September Song:



"As the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November, December,
These precious days I'll spend with you"

Updated wonderfully for your enjoyment, the great Lou Reed sings September Song. The picture is of Kurt Weill.

Just answer the question!

Me: What time do you want me to come over?

Friend: What time do you want to come over?

Me: You are the one making dinner, what time should I come?

Friend: Well what time do you want to come?

Me: You are the one doing the inviting, just tell me what time I should arrive.

Friend: Anytime you want.

Me: What, 5 or 6 or 8?

Friend: How about 5:30?

Me: Fine, see you then.

Why is it so damn hard to get a direct answer to a direct question? Frankly, that is an abridged conversation above. It would have been too boring to have transcribed it if I could have remembered it all. At this point, my stomach is all clenched and I don't even want to go to dinner. Is it just this question? No, of course not. It is that whole way of not communicating.

Please, I beg of you, even if it will hurt my feelings, just answer the question, whether it be big like "Do you want to stay married?" or small like the time to arrive for dinner. Don't make me work for the answer. I just can't play that game, not ten years ago and not now.

Double Feature

Most of the people on this site probably never experienced an old fashioned double feature. First a cartoon, then a movie, then another movie, all for one price. Well I couldn't get the cartoon tonight but I certainly enjoyed a first class double feature. I went to the cheap theater in Hopkins and saw two Academy Award nominees. Well worth the $3.00!

The Blind Side is a really lovely film about a big homeless boy and the family that takes him in and helps him along in his future. It was based on the book written by the woman of the family, played by Sandra Bullock. It was a wonderful cast including a really precocious little boy and Tim McGraw as the father of the family. I am sure there were many altercations within the family but I wasn't bothered by seeing rich people in love living a generous life. The football was well choreographed and fun to watch.

I followed it up by walking, not sneaking, not sneaking at all, into Invictus. I am so impressed by Clint Eastwood's projects. Taking on a film about Nelson Mandela and the 1995 Rugby World Championship is taking a risk. Matt Damon was very good as the thoughtful team captain. Morgan Freeman was terrific as Nelson Mandela, who is one of my personal heroes. The graciousness and humbleness of this man was inspiring. If he can forgive his captors and do what is right for his very damaged country, then I can take a lesson.

The best part for me was at the end of each film, during the credits they showed photographs of the real Michael Oher and the Tuohy family. Real pictures of Nelson Mandela and the South African Rugby team, The Springboks. Of course some dramatization took place for the sake of the story, but real people inspired them. One changed a boy and family's life, and the other changed a nation. I walked out of the theater inspired and would recommend either or both to anyone.

Nice work if you can get it

Twenty months after returning from Kuwait my daughter finally has a job. During this time of unemployment she married a man who works twenty-seven hours a week for a large corporation that has promised him full time as soon as the hiring freeze is over. She came home with twenty-three thousand dollars in savings. Needless to say it is all gone and by last summer they were six thousand dollars in debt. A bond that was bought when she was a baby by my parents came due and they got out of debt and bought a few Christmas presents.

They pay two thirds of their income for rent. I slip her money when I see her and make care packages. I fill her gas tank so she can visit. They turn down invitations because it will cost too much in gas. Every outing is figured in terms of mileage. For my birthday I gave her a rebate check so she could buy me a gift. It wasn't that I needed anything, she just needed to be able to buy me something.

So what is this job? She will be working as a security guard at a beauty college. Four days a week her hours are from 5:30 to 9:30 AM and Friday and Saturday From 3 to 11 PM. She has Sunday off. That is right, working six days a week for thirty-six hours at $11.00 an hour. This is not a sitting at a desk security position, this is a roaming on your feet being a presence.

Her husband suggested she could go to college in the afternoon and I mentioned it gave her time to look for something else. She burst into tears and said, "Let me at least start working before you tell me I can do better!" This period of unemployment has been hard on this highly intelligent woman. I am sorry I was insensitive and forgot that all work has dignity.

So good luck darling, you are a wonderful human being and always a success in my eyes.

At the Jersey Shore

Last Thursday, my daughter and I took my parents out to New Jersey for the wedding of a beloved niece's daughter. It took place in the area of the state known as the Jersey Shore. When some guests found out Eri was from Minnesota they started making "Fargo" noises. She quietly explained that comparing Minnesotans to the movie Fargo was like comparing them to "The Jersey Shore". Boy did that get a reaction.

I had last been in this area as a teenager. It has changed so much from a sort of sleazy, sort of nowhere resort area to lovely redeveloped coastal towns full of nice restaurants and upscale condos. The old cottages have largely disappeared, at least in the areas I saw. The friend who took us out for lunch one day did point out that, as in many areas, the low income people have been pushed out as their housing was razed for development. This is not a new story and takes place everywhere from San Francisco to Philadelphia.

What has not changed, though, is the ocean. Wild and grey with rain, it called to me as we ate our lunch in a waterfront restaurant. I love my friend and her son was as beautiful as a model, but they could not keep my attention from the windows and the grandeur outside. The old lady has a friend from the East at her senior building. They both agree that lakes are nice, but there is something about the ocean that is so much more; it is the smell of the salt and they miss it. (of course I had to be a smart ass and say I would mix some salt water, add cat food and run a fan by it.)

It rained and rained and rained the entire time we were there and I have heard it is still raining. In honor of the stoic and classy New Jersians here is a silly version of the song about raining for 40 days and nights.

Sucking the life

As time goes by I will be debriefing the trip to NJ with the thousand year old parents but for now, just things I have been thinking about.

It was kind of hard being in a hotel without power on Saturday night and Sunday morning. My daughter Eri and I took them slowly up the steps to our rooms on the second floor and undressed them by flashlight. Somehow we managed. But as I was running around on Sunday morning trying to get them to brunch and back to our rooms to pack someone asked me how I was doing. I said, "They are sucking the life out of me."

I started thinking about it. Why the hell shouldn't they suck the life out of me if they were using and enjoying that energy and I wasn't? Why shouldn't the ones that appreciate the life force get it anyway they can get it? I certainly wasn't enjoying my life and wishing the incidents over. I was wishing the precious time I have away.

The medical mystic Caroline Myss, says that there are some people who are energy vampires. They get their energy from others and don't give any back. They take and take and if you are not vigilant, they will drain your very life's energy. My parents can be that way.

When I am feeling good, feeling alive and in tune with the wonder of Creation, I am easy to get along with and don't mind what I have to do for the old folks. I can laugh it off. At that time I become a conduit for energy. The more I give, the more I get. But let stress, tension, resentments, worry, and negative energy of any kind take hold and I get blocked up. Spiritually constipated would describe it. Then the good energy drains and I have nothing to replenish it with. Then the vampires can drain me dry.

To help unblock the stoppage, I am doing a few things. I erased hurtful, and loving messages from my phone. All text messages are gone. The next part is a little harder. Holding on to resentments and bad thoughts are comfortable in an uncomfortable way, if you know what I mean. I release all negative thoughts and resentments. I empty myself of negative energy so to be receptive to the love that wants to manifest and fill me. It is always there, just waiting for me to be open.

And we're off!

Getting in a last little blog before picking up the folks for the trip to New Jersey. Whee!

Here is our itinerary:

Thursday:
E and J pick me up at 10:30
Pick up parents at 11:00
Get to airport by 11:30
Getting 94 and 96 year olds through security and to gate, infinity
Get to NJ at 5
Get picked up by cousin B
Dinner at B & I's house
Hotel.

Friday:
Parents rest up for rehearsal dinner
E and I meet my best friend of 54 years!
Rehearsal dinner

Saturday:
Brunch with other cousins
E and I go to church ceremony
Parents rest up for reception
Reception from 5-10:30, good chance parents have to leave early.

Sunday:
I pack them up
We have family brunch
Back to Newark Airport
Back to Minneapolis by 4
Drop them home
Come home and turn on computer.
Hope someone cool is on booty call.
Blog about trip.

Sidney and Harriet go to a wedding, Carol keeps her cool and has funny, I hope, stories to tell.

Gearing Up

We are starting to gear up for the big trip to New Jersey.

A wonderful cousin's daughter is marrying on Saturday and my parents are so excited! This wedding is the highlight of their year and I think it may be the one thing getting them through this rotten winter. Frankly, when I heard about it last spring, I never thought they would be able to go.

They are so excited. Tomorrow I have to take the old man to the barber shop. He is going to have "the works". Haircut, hair on ears cut, eyebrow trim, and shave. For over fifty years the old lady (96) has been cutting the old man's hair. He is almost 95 and still has a full head of thin white hair. The old lady started working in beauty and barber shops 80!, yes 80 years ago at age 16. She is very propriatorey about letting anyone else cut his hair. It doesn't matter that she is legally blind, and cuts by feel. She has to sit down between each cut.

I put color in her hair on Sunday. She is now flaming strawberry blond and she will give herself a trim today or tomorrow. She likes to do her hair like Barbara Walters. Good thing she can't see very well, otherwise she would see it looks NOTHING like Barbara Walters. I will pack for them on Wednesday.

This is not an easy trip and my younger daughter is coming along to help. This is not a vacation for me; so why am I doing it? Because they want to go so very much. It is good for me to take on a challenge and see if I can do this with humor and love. They were so frail and sick when I moved them from NY, and now they are frail and forgetful, but full of anticipation for a party. The old lady is looking forward to being the matriarch and the old man is looking forward to wearing his pretty suit and shiny shoes.

I try to live by the Golden Rule and do unto others as I would have others do unto me. If it is true that what goes around comes around, I will be loved and cared for in my old age, whether I deserve it or not. I pray I am worthy.

My daughter in Argentina

My daughter, my thirty-two year old baby girl, is working in the Mendoza wine region of Argentina, right over the mountains from Chile. She sent out this email to the family:

"Well, I am sure you all heard about the earthquake... I sure did feel it this morning - it shook me awake, and then kept shaking. Apparently Chile loses an average of 1 cm every year... they might have lost just a bit more this time. I haven´t heard anything exactly, yet but I think, from my limited experience with earthquakes, that over here it was at least 4.5 to 5. The lights were swaying and car alarms were going off. In town, they were evacuating the hospitals. We felt the big after shock, but then the unrelated 6.0 in Northern Argentina, I didn´t feel at all. The major bummer here is that my roommate worked in a town not 50 km from the epicenter last year and he is having a hell of a time getting any information about anyone. Also, just happens to be a major wine region and I can´t imagine what it has done to the wineries. But, no worries here. Everyone is fine." She is in the little town of Mendoza, in the upper right hand corner of the map. It was actually measured at 8.8
map of earthquake and Mendoza

There has been pretty bad destruction of the older parts of some of the towns and some loss of life, but not on the scale of Haiti. There hundred of thousands of the worlds poorest people died in one blow. Here, in a developed economy, things are bad, but not catastrophic to the same degree. They have resources for rebuilding and their President says not to send aid until they ask for specific aid.

The good news is that it is not worse and the better news is that fears for a Tsunami have been down graded. Here is a good link.
Earthquake overview

Thank you to the friends who have inquired about my daughter.

The right to privacy

So much has been written and discussed about Tiger Woods. Personally, I don't care who he has been cheating with. It does not affect me in any way but one. I am tired of having his life and problems foisted on my consciousness. Aside from living in a cave, one cannot avoid it. I feel strongly that our right to privacy has been compromised.

If I ran for office and they asked me about my religion I would say that my spiritual life is private. If anyone were to bring up my sexual life, I would tell them it is none of their business, it is private. And if anyone wants to make me think that some celebrity's sex life is news, I want to be able to invoke my right to privacy from hearing about it.

You might or might not know that the reason abortion is legal is broadly based on the right of woman to have privacy to do what she wants to her body.

The most frequently quoted statement by a Supreme Court justice on the subject of privacy comes in Justice Brandeis's dissent in Olmstead v. U. S. (1928):

"The makers of our Constitution understood the need to secure conditions favorable to the pursuit of happiness, and the protections guaranteed by this are much broader in scope, and include the right to life and an inviolate personality -- the right to be left alone -- the most comprehensive of rights and the right most valued by civilized men. The principle underlying the Fourth and Fifth Amendments is protection against invasions of the sanctities of a man's home and privacies of life. This is a recognition of the significance of man's spiritual nature, his feelings, and his intellect."

Why do I carry on about privacy when I write about my own life? Not very private at all. It is my choice. You choose to read about it. I don't choose to read about Tiger. Why doesn't he get the right to privacy? Why doesn't his wife and children? I do not believe I have the right to know the details of anyone's life for my gratuitous interest.

Do I need to know if someone is a murderer before I hire them to care for my aged parents? Yes. Do I need to know how many people he slept with before murdering his mother? There are some things we need to know, but there are other things that can remain private.

I am not a lawyer or a constitutional expert, this is just my opinion on privacy, mine and yours and Tiger's.

The language of love

"Of the countless ways we can show love to one another, five key categories, or five love languages, proved to be universal and comprehensive—everyone has a love language, and we all identify primarily with one of the five love languages: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch."
- From The 5 Love Languages by Dr Gary Chapman

I woke up feeling wonderful this morning and wondered why. Then I remembered; I was loved.

I have two wonderful daughters, one shows love by the very thoughtful gifts she gives. She hears what I say and thinks about what to give me. It is not easy because I am very hard to gift. But she will find me the blanket, or little bedside light that are just right. She bought me a small quiet fan that I enjoy all summer. Unfortunately, I am not as good a gift giver. I don't always discern what is desired.

My other daughter gave me a most appreciated gift yesterday. She gave me a gift of service. She came to my home and colored my hair and then gave me a pedicure. She worked so gently on my feet, sitting on the floor which was not very comfortable for her. We talked and laughed and watched the Olympics. Afterwards I made her a grilled cheese sandwich which she said was very delicious. I had one too, and I can tell you it was just muenster cheese on whole grain bread. What she found delicious was the love with which it was made. She was eating love. There are so many jokes about mothers pushing food on family and what is not understood is that we are just showing love.

To one degree or another I give words of affirmation, and loving touch, and the gift of quality time. But what is easiest for me to give and understand is the language of service as love.

"Point a finger

... and three come back at you."

It is a cliche' that I find to be true. Another one is "Wherever you go, there you are."

So here I am, in my own little place, looking to assign blame, but I can't. Point that finger and here I am in a heaven or hell of my own making. What will it be? When will I understand that it is my effort that reveals Grace in my life?

Right now, intellectually, I understand that I AM light. But there is a tightness around my heart that is keeping me in the dark.

I am the Founder and President of the Procrastinators Club. I've had therapy, I've had past lives read. I had negative forces that were holding me back purged. And yet ... I put things off. I've prayed, I've sprung up and attacked tasks.

The thing about presenting a strong persona to the world is that no one knows how much help I need. Maybe it was losing my mother at a young age and being raised by clueless parents. Maybe it is the depression. And maybe it is just being bloody lazy. I don't know. But I do know that all the fingers are pointing in my direction and I cannot run because here I am.

Is this the right place to share dark moments of the soul? Probably not. Should you worry? No.

"Is there any remover of difficulty save God? Say Praise Be God, He is God! All are His servants and all abide by His bidding!" Baha'i prayer.

What game were we playing?

The other day I spent time with a friend who'd had outpatient surgery. My role was to see to it that she got her pain pills and to keep her awake until the next dose. We decided to play cards. I was amazed that she could see to do it. We had some laughs as she made some plays that I thought were completely illegal. We both compromised but it made for a rather weird game.

Well, I have been playing cards on the computer and guess what? We were both right for the games we were playing but we were playing different games! She was playing a form of Rummy and I was playing Gin! Nearly the same, but significantly different. In Rummy you can add on to the others run and keep going or vice versa. In Gin you have to have a discard to go out, but not in Rummy.

Isn't that just like life? How many times have I been at cross purposes with someone and not known why? I will explain and explain and accuse the other of either not listening or willfully misunderstanding, when actually we weren't playing the same game. Or not on the same page, and sometimes, not in the same universe.

I have lived in Minnesota for over 35 years and I still misunderstand and am misunderstood. I come from NY and inadvertently hurt others by being direct. I also get in trouble for not knowing the code. For example, I planned an event for a certain day and my boss told me to try to find another date because she "wasn't comfortable with that day." I could not find another day that worked and went ahead. She confronted me and asked why I did it when she told me not to. I explained that she didn't say not to do it, just that she would prefer it on a different day if possible because she wasn't comfortable with it. How could I play when I didn't know the rules?

How much of the misery of what had been a happy marriage was because we were miscommunicating? All the communication workshops in the world can't help when one person is trying to state as clearly as possible what she is trying to say and the other is speaking in a subtle code. She gets louder, in hopes of being understood and he gets quieter and stops trying. Subtlety is lost on me.

I am not a mindreader. I have hurt the people I love by sometimes saying the way I think or feel in a less than tactful way. Recently I realized that someone I care about was giving off waves of dislike while trying to smile. Sometimes it gets through to someone as clueless as me. I care about this person and every person in that household. I am so sorry for making them feel bad.

What game am I playing? Am I winning or losing? I sure hope to have fun participating whether I know the rules or make them up on the spot.

Woman at the mercy, a girl stuff entry

Hormones. There you have it. Women spend a great deal of their lives at the mercy of their own hormones.

Aside from doing it myself, I have watched my own daughters go through puberty. One seemed to float through it, as she floats through life, and the other had it hit her with full force. One time when she was particularly unhappy I asked her if she'd had a period recently and she burst into tears. When she realized what she had was premenstrual stress she started being aware of it and learned to anticipate the bad moods and deal with them.

When I was young I learned to lessen the effects of PMS by use of calcium and vitamin E. That is not to say I didn't get a little nuts, I did, but only for a day and not a week each month.

My first pregnancy played havoc with my hormones. My behavior changed to such a degree that within days of conception people started asking me if I was pregnant. When I asked why they were asking, my co-worker said I had turned into a bitch overnight. I couldn't stand being touched by the veins in my husband's arms and other nutty behavior.

By being aware of what I have been feeling and the calendar, I have been able to deal with my hormones messing with my mind. But going through menopause changes all the rules. I think it is the unpredictability that starts all the stories about crazy menopausal women. We don't understand that it is our hormones making us nuts. Now I can have PMS for a month and think I am just depressed and suddenly feel the heavy breasts and wonder, "Am I getting a period?" Nah. Yep. I don't know. Oh, is that blood? I guess I AM getting a period.

They say the ages of menopause are 38-62. You are not officially done until you can go a whole year without a period. Now I will have to start counting again.

Attitude

Have you seen this magazine called "More"? I read it at the dentist yesterday. It is geared towards the woman in middle age, which can be from 40 and up. Ahem. Anyway I picked it up because the cover had a teaser about the ten best careers for women in midlife.

Number one was the job I lost a few years ago. I loved it as a community services manager. It was different everyday and I got to help lots of people. As I read the article which laid out the salary from 42-80 thousand, yeah right, more like 32-50, I was assailed with negativity. Where the fuck are these jobs and why can't I find one? I can't remember the other nine jobs.

I came home and got ready to go out. While in the shower I wondered if my attitude was the problem? Instead of looking at that article with a jaundiced eye, maybe I can say, cool. Maybe I can change my attitude to one of great, there are jobs out there that I can do and all I have to do is be open. Can't hurt.

So between the negative and positive energy, I am spinning like an atom.