Lucky ticket

There is a group on facebook called "Be Excellent to Each Other". My niece's mother invited me to join so I did. Tonight was their fundraiser for various children's charities. I asked several friends to go, then my daughter, then my son-in-law who agreed to come out.

The affair was very alternative and I saw tons of tattoos. One was quite nice indeed. I had twenty dollars and after buying one coke had seventeen left. I bought three raffle tickets for $5.00 each. We walked around the tables and tried to decide which prizes we wanted. Spent one ticket on Star Wars collectibles, one on haircuts and waxing, and the final ticket went to Wii games.

It was interesting watching the dynamics going on. I was easily one of the oldest people there and I looked quite nice, almost hip. Ha ha ha. We were laughing and having fun pointing out silliness to each other. We really enjoyed the Karaoke/Guitar Hero/Rock Band. Teams would get up and sing and try to play the faux guitars and drums.

The drawings began at 11. John kept checking our numbers. We didn't win the collectibles; we didn't win the day of beauty. Suddenly John was yelling, we won the Wii games and sword controller! "My son-in-law won!" I told everyone around me. Lots of congratulations. The prize was worth over $275.00!

John was very happy with his prize. I was happy to spend some time with John. He always gets quiet when at my house and he tells me that my daughter gets snarkier with me than anyone else. He always knows who is on the phone just by her tone of voice. He was so nice when she was overseas and I couldn't understand why he had changed. Tonight, we reestablished a good relationship and I'm not going to let my daughter ruin it again.

They say we dislike in others what we dislike in ourselves and I think I push all of her buttons. They also say you can pick your friends but you can't pick your relatives. Oh well...

Screaming Fox

I have never been a good sleeper but last night looked like it might be a good one. First I was awoken by VERY loud music at 12:25. It was Annie Lennox rocking out, the bass thumping through the floor and the voices coming through. Relax, I told myself, don't say anything. At 1:04 I ran downstairs and yelled over David Gilmour that it was late and I was trying to sleep. I did not find out until this morning that there wasn't work for S today. Oh.

But then I went back to bed with my heart thumping and just as I drifted off to sleep I heard a terrible cry. I couldn't figure out if it was a cat or raccoon or even a bird of prey. Then the motion sensor light below my window went on. I jumped out of bed to see what tripped it. It was a fox and it was SCREAMING. Going across one side of the dirt driveway to the other side into the trees. It was alone and screaming. It came out at the end of the trees, screamed, and then went off up the road.

There is a resident fox across the road in a small nature area. Sometimes I will see it at daybreak. It is always silent. I think that something was threatening its territory and it followed it over to our place. Inspection of the area doesn't find anything alarming.

When I first moved out here our neighbor used to feed the raccoons dog kibble. I had never seen such huge raccoons. They would lumber up out of the ravine and eat the kibble. One got in our basement and left huge paw prints and a big turd. Definitely not the cat! Thankfully those neighbors moved and the buffalo raccoons left too.

It will be strange to live in a city again. The building I am moving to is right on a park with walking trails and a small lake. The park leads into a nature preserve. I wonder if I will see deer and foxes and hawks and owls. Living here on my hill has been good. I will miss my porch and the tree outside my window. It will be strange to look across a pool over to a building. Here, I have been isolated and spoiled. I am looking forward to planting shrubs in boxes and doing gardening on a very small scale. I hope there won't be any screaming foxes.

Catching up with changes

I haven't blogged in quite a while because I have been overwhelmed with changes, overwhelmed with life.

In a nutshell, my incredibly wonderful loving brother and sister-in-law are buying my husband and my share of his mother's lake home. They have taken a loan and have given me the proceeds.

I made an offer on a condo in an area that I really like. We will be closing on November 2, 2009. I will move shortly and then begin my life without my husband. We can't divorce until I have health insurance, but we can be legally separated.

I am excited, and scared, and happy and sad. I am a wreck, but a hopeful wreck.

I thank the Creator for the many examples of love at work in my life. Now it is up to me to do my part.

Lousy haircut

A while ago I talked about leaving my hairdresser of many years and finding someone new. I left Katie, not because she wouldn't do the hair for Eri's Sunday wedding, but because of the way she rejected the idea. She did not say sorry she didn't work weekends or that if she did it for me she would have to do it for others. She just brushed me off saying she didn't work weekends. Then it hit me, we were not friends, we were just customer and hairdresser. I found Gina who was kind of crazy but did nice work. Then she had hand surgery and someone else cut my hair and it was fine.

I had been letting it grow out and it was curly but out of shape. Today I went in and had a stranger cut my hair. She really was strange. She looked at least my age but was ten years younger, skinny, and I mean skinny, had teased black hair with a fire engine red streak and odd clothing. I told her what I wanted and then closed my eyes. I have a lot on my mind to think about and enjoyed the silence. When I opened my eyes I found she made my hair much shorter. Then she blew it out and I looked old.

I took a nap this afternoon and when I got up it looked better. Still too short, but not as old ladyish. And as I tell myself, it will grow. In the grand scheme of life, a rotten haircut is not much to worry about.

God Wants Me To Know

There is an application on facebook called "God Wants You To Know". This is my message for today:


"On this day of your life, Carol, we believe God wants you to know... ... wealth does not come from your bank account, wealth comes from the depth of your heart.
What you really want is happiness. You might believe that a fat bank account will get you there, but that's false. Happy people are happy rich or poor, unhappy people are unhappy rich or poor. Money simply masks your real being by giving you activities to occupy your mind. Don't fool yourself, recession or not, your true wealth comes from your heart and is always only there."


Absolutely right! Now here comes the but...I need to pay bills, etc.


And suddenly I realize it is true. Wealth does come from my heart and the love I have inside. Wealth comes from appreciation of life. Wealth is more than money. It is true that we all need to take care of the physical side of life and there is nothing wrong about having enough to be comfortable and have a cushion. But wealth, real wealth comes from understanding the gift of life. From getting joy over seeing a leaf turn red or a baby in a papoose.


Those of you who know me, know I experience depression in varying degrees. I've had some hard days where I have felt like giving up, that I have nothing more to live for. That I was too old to do any good in this world and no one to experience love heart to heart. And I have had good days, where I see that life is playing out perfectly. I might not understand where the story is going, but I am enjoying the ride.


I love quirky movies. I like to sit down and not know what is going to happen. I want a surprise, a twist, a story within a story and an unpredictable plot line. I loved the first Rocky. I don't see all the movies about the underdog overcoming the front runner. I could write them myself.
Give me enthusiasm, give me fun. Make me laugh...God knows I do enough crying. And help me remember that true wealth comes from within.

Thoughts

At what point do I have to stop calling my younger daughter baby girl? To me she is a beautiful grown woman, but when I am concerned, she is still my baby girl. There was an article in USA today that says mothers and daughters should not be too close. That mothers need to let their daughters grow up, not become "best friends" but maintain a closeness that allows their daughters autonomy. Sounds good.

I have been blessed with a wonderful mother in law. She was there when I needed her but kept her nose out of my business. I want to be a wonderful mother and mother in law. I was recently concerned about her and used the phrase "I don't know what to do" and my brother in law told me I didn't have to do anything, it wasn't my problem. Wow. I have enough to do to take care of my parents and he was letting me know he was taking care of his. Fair enough, but I will be concerned and I will let her know I care and am there for her if she needs me.

This has been a funny Labor Day Weekend. I thought I might go away or to a party but mainly just took the folks out to a free outdoor concert at Lake Harriet and to dinner at the Chatterbox in Edina. Sunday I went to Big Lots and spent lots and today watched a video. It was Woody Allen's "Sweet and Lowdown". It was good, but not great. Wonderful performances by the ensemble but the story went nowhere. It was a "mockumentary", totally fabricated fiction. Not based on a real person at all. Just before the end I said I didn't know how they could end it. A moment later someone on screen says they don't know what became of the main character. I thought it was a cop-out.

I hope my baby girl feels better.

Warning: Feeling jangly

I am having a hard day and need to vent If you don't want to hear about it I won't mind if you leave. OK. Forewarned!

This month had more days than money and that is always hard.

I'm sad because I was going to be in my own place by September 1st and I am not. The person who I was going to share a house with could not commit and I can not find a place I can afford on my own. We have not been preapproved for a mortgage so I can't go forward on getting a condo. I do not have a job so cannot get my own health insurance and a divorce. I feel like I am falling into the pit of despair and know that my attitude is going to make all the difference in the world. I am also feeling as hormonal as anything.


Still having computer problems so I am typing this at the library. Hennepin County Library is really wonderful and has a ton of computers both out in the main room and here in the Lab. I like working in the computer lab because it is quiet. Just the sound of keyboards and scanners. Someone had a loud headset on and I asked him to turn it down and he attacked me. I asked if it was bothering anyone else and someone said yes. The guy asked why nobody said anything and I said, "Because they are Minnesotans!" Blessed silence.


I am not a Minnesotan although I have lived here longer than anywhere else in my life. I like it here but I do not have the homegrown reticence to avoid confrontation at all cost. I don't like making others feel uncomfortable, but I hate getting more and more resentful because no one is brave enough to say anything and call attention to themselves. Your right to listen to crappy music ends where my right to a quiet room begins. Your right to smoke ends where my right to breathe clean air begins.


I am on the horns of a dilemma. Someone came to my house and acted rude to me and my guests. Do I say something or let it pass? What if I see it as indicative of other, worse, behavior? Do I say something or let it pass? And the worst part is that I do not trust my own judgement. My father is a real piece of work. But then he can be so nice. Then he will treat me poorly and I will get mad because I trusted the good part more than the bad. So too, do I trust the rude guest. When he is good, he is very very good, but when he is bad, he is horrid. I want to believe that I am seeing aberrant behavior and that he isn't hurting someone I love dearly.


My marriage has gone south as the saying goes, but at one time it was good. I know what kindness looks like and I know what alarms me. The behavior I am seeing is not violent or verbally abusive, but it is not kind. It is passive aggressive and that is very hard to counteract.

Yesterday I did what I had to do for the old man. I bought him a new lamp, just what he wanted. I also dealt with some of his banking. He has little bits of money all over the place. I closed out one account for $600.00, transferred some from a savings to a money market, and wrote another check for $1500. from the money market into his everyday checking. Then I went to another obscure bank that he had found and transferred all of his $500. account into the old lady's account and closed that checking account. He asked me how much he actually has and I told him about $60,000. In truth, he has less than $10,000.

Someone on facebook has a dog on dialysis. I mentioned that I thought it was time to consider the quality of life and let the dog pass over that rainbow bridge to doggy heaven. A woman with MS says she supposes that I think she should be put on the bridge, too. Yeesh! There is a difference between dogs and humans! And just for the record, I think when life is too painful, and all quality is gone, people should have a choice. I know there is a difference between depression and end of life issues. Many people do not, so I guess to protect everyone we don't allow people to make that choice for themselves. At least legally we do not. If someone wants to die, they will arrange it somehow.

I remember how easy it was for Marshy. One moment she was alive, and before the injection was finished she was gone. I remember how Lily died in her own time, and up to that last day she was happy. And I remember how my little Siamese suffered up to and including the last trip to the vet. Marshy was in distress and we made the right decision. Lily seemed to be doing OK and I feel like we made the right decision, too. But Baby was in distress and we did not make the right decision. We let him suffer too long, when we could have eased his last few unhappy, disoriented days. I still feel bad about that, we just didn't think he would last so long.

Alright, here is an affirmation so anyone who reads this doesn't feel like putting their head under the blankets. "That which doesn't kill us, 1. makes us stronger, 2. teaches us something, 3. lets us keep on living." The other message which I am sending myself is to stop being such a drama queen and get over myself. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Adrenaline Rush

When I let myself get so upset it takes days to get over it. My meltdown on Friday left me quite lethargic on Saturday. But the bat that scared me on Sunday morning really got my adrenaline going. I was out of the bed with the door slammed in no time at all. It was quite hard to fall asleep afterwards with cats climbing on top wanting to join me on the couch. Eventually I did fall asleep and have been quite cheerful since.

Mr Tolliver Grote, in Going Postal is full of noxious home remedies such as putting sulphur in his shoes and bread pudding poultices. He claims that it "clears the tubes". I feel like my tubes are cleared now and it is full speed ahead. Just after I get a few hours more sleep.

Hysteria and Perspective

As this week has progressed, I have been crazier and crazier about losing the phone and internet lines. It wasn't because I need them so much; I have a cell phone and can use the internet at the library. It was because I was being lied to, manipulated by outside forces and generally felt out of control. It was like everything I wanted to do was being controlled by the stupid lies.

Today, I totally lost it. I just lost it. I was in a frantic state and could hardly breathe and was crying upset to the point of craziness. I called Erica and she thought someone had died. She calmed me down, took the information and called Qwest. She told me to lie down and I did. I read a little Dave Barry and actually smiled. When I was calm I went out for a while. I came home and the technician came and made sure I had service. When I went online I found out that a friend's son had died in a skydiving accident.

Not to get all hippy trippy, and totally accepting that I have been working myself up all week, I think my hysteria and when my friends heard about their son was about the same time. I don't know if there is any correlation or I was super sensitized to what was happening.

The young man, Eli Thompson, was 36, a professional stunt diver, husband, and father of two little girls. His wife is eight months pregnant with their son. I remember when my brother Stuart died. My parents were devastated, as are my friends. But I think of this pregnant woman, trying to make sense of anything and comforting her daughters, and trying to be comforted and my heart goes out for the terrible pain that is spreading through their family and friends.

Oh my, oh my...I make a fuss because I am feeling manipulated. As Erica said, she thought someone had died. Someone had, I just did not know it.

"Is there any remover of difficulty save God? Say: He is God, all are His servants and all abide by his bidding." -The Bab.

Ranting and Raving

Monday evening I lost phone and internet service. I called Qwest repair and they told me I didn't have trouble on the line. Next morning I called the billing office to see if I hadn't paid the bill or something. They had not shut off the service so I called repair again. They told me someone would be out between 3 and 7, no later than 8. I asked if it was ok for me to go out before then and was told that was fine. At 8:15 I was told there was no repair order. I got pretty upset and asked to speak to a supervisor. He calmed me down and told me someone would be there between 8 and noon today. At 12:30 I called back and asked where the repair person was. I was told he would be there by 4:30. I went ballistic. I wanted to know why they couldn't call me to say why they would be late?

At 4:15 a repairman came and tested that I did not have service. Duh. He followed the line and found that it must have been pulled down on purpose in my neighbor's yard. He tried to get a bucket truck but was not successful. I was just called on the cell phone asking if it would be ok if they came out tomorrow morning? Please.

So here I am at Hennepin County Library using their computers and internet and realizing that as we get more and more dependent on the internet, we are becoming more vulnerable to technology. No electricity or gas or phone, and I as a semi-modern woman am lost. I can stand an occasional weekend in a rustic cabin with an outhouse and pump. But I want my ATM and phone banking. I want to pay bills online. I want modern life.

There are people in Africa and other parts of the world who walk miles for dirty water. When my phone service is restored I am going to make a donation to Play Pumps International as a gift for being so blessed in my life and for the awareness of how spoiled I can be.

My great niece and nephews.

Today I had the fabulous experience of holding Owen, (what a chunk a bunk) while watching Emma hold a sleepy Dylan. Ethan was talking to me and little Linnea slept in her swing. Oh it is so precious, dear nephews and nieces. Enjoy these little bunnies; their tummy aches, and ear infections are nothing compared to the joy of holding them, experiencing their smiles and knowing you are the center of the world.

The old ladies used to say "It goes so fast!" They were right. Sleepless nights pass, as do hours spent at the pool or soccer field. I believe you can have a full and happy life without children, but I sure am glad to have had mine and I will always admire these miracles of love where and whenever I come across them.

I love being a Grauntie!

Ten days without blogging...something and nothing to say

First the nothing. I have not gotten a job yet, nor am I closer to living on my own.

I went up to Barnum earlier in the week to see Betty's mechanic and body shop men. Aubrey, the mechanic took a look at the Camry and thought it well worth repairing. Said I needed new light bulbs and to have a welder look at where the exhaust pipe came off the engine. Otherwise I was fine. He thought ten dollars more than fair for his time. Gotta love it. Then we went over to Tony Grimm's shop and he wrote up an estimate of $450. to fix the bumper and light assembly and another forty to knock the rear bumper back into alignment. That was Monday. I came back on Wednesday night and dropped it off at 8:30 on Thursday morning. It was done this morning. I had been missing a front wheelcover and he found one that sort of matched and threw it on for free. Then he decided to only charge $470. for a job he estimated at $490. Some things are better in small towns for sure! Thank you Betty.

After we dropped the car at the body shop we went back to the house and had a quiet morning. After lunch we went in the lake. It was so warm. I was very glad to be wearing my rubber shoes though. Clams and stones and weeds, oh my. Dinner at Hanging Horn Village where they have big city prices. I think their food is fine, but not all that wonderful. It is, though, the only decent place around for miles. As usual Betty knew some people there.

Today we went to Jay Cooke State Park. I haven't been there in at least ten years. The rock formations were as timeless as ever. We had a good time hiking around and enjoying the scenery. We arrived around nine and left at eleven, just as crowds were getting there. I loved looking at the water and rocks and Betty was able to tell me about some of the flora. We walked down to a protected part of the back water and Betty identified deer, wolf, and bear tracks. I thought they were just holes in the sand. I bow to greater knowledge.

Betty gets around so well it is hard to remember she is 84 years old! I saw some of her hesitation and helped her down over some of the rocky trails. Although she is easily offended, she took none as I offered my hand. I told her it put my mind at rest to see her accept help when she needed it. I reiterated how sensible she was and that we would not have to worry about her being alone in the house when it got too much for her.

Here is the problem. She is stubborn and can not hear very well and thinks people are talking down to her. When we sat at the gas pump I asked her what side the door was on. She got all defensive and told me she knew where her gas door was and hated when people treated her like an idiot. I sat for a moment and said I was only asking because a man was filling a gas can on the other side and sometimes I went to the far side and pulled the nozzle behind the car. I was just asking, I wasn't telling her what to do. She had to regroup and apologize but did tell me it drove her crazy when people spoke to her in words of one syllable as if she was an idiot.

When we were at Autumn Voices choir practice on Monday, she had to have everything repeated. She has no idea of how deaf she is. Scott says he would like to fit her with new hearing aids that would help her singing. Betty tells me she has two swim suits, one that I bought her, and one she bought on her own. But what she goes swimming in is just awful. She wears an ancient pair of bleach splotched shorts and a Helly Hanson singlet that not only is full of holes, it is almost indecent. The yoke is grey, but the chest is white nylon, so her nipples show through. Oh boy. I asked if she has a philosophical objection to the suits. She finally admitted that she is not going to be 130 pounds again and doesn't like the way she looks in a bathing suit. But she doesn't mind her nipples showing, I asked. She did laugh and admit it was silly.

When we were at Jay Cooke we were told that the water was Root Beer colored. I said I always heard it called tea colored. Later on when we were in the lake I mentioned that when she was on her back, she was having a Root Beer Float. Aren't I the witty one? And if she washes her hair in the lake, which she does, that when she is all lathered up she is a root beer float with whipped cream. Big groan, but I liked it and would have gone on ad nauseum, but took the hint and shut up. How lucky I have been in my in-laws. Poor Scott has not been quite so lucky.

This week my breasts have been so tender, and I was experiencing cramps, just like I was expecting my period. Imagine my surprise to get a period after eleven months. I thought I was done and didn't miss it for a minute. I was so looking forward to September to be able to say I was there, in menopause. I am fifty-seven years old and really ready to be done. The PMS I had this week was truly awful. I lost my temper with the old man and could have hurt him.

On Tuesday night the old lady said the old man was crying that he wanted to go to the beach. I knew I had to get up to Barnum but I said I would take him on Thursday at 2. About ten to two I called to say I would be late. The old lady couldn't hear me so the old man got on the phone and I gave him the message. By the time I got there at 2:20 he got himself into a snit about why I was late. Now the last thing I wanted to do was go to the beach and here he was giving me shit about my time management skills. I told him I called, he insisted I did not. We got in a shouting match and I hit him with a towel. I am so appalled at my action that I feel like I should be put in jail. I haven't hit anyone in over twenty years. I can't begin to tell of my shame at hitting this frail old man with a towel. I know he can push my buttons, but this was like lighting a flame to dynamite. When I saw my blood on Thursday, I was relieved. I am still mortified at my actions, but can blame it on my hormones. That doesn't make it right by any standard, but at least it makes it understandable.

I've just listened to the phone messages. My mother called to say "Thank you, thank you, thank you for making my life easier. I love you." Oh my God, I feel like such a heel.

Comedy of Errors, Confederacy of Dunces, or: My Day and Welcome to it.

I couldn't sleep well last night, knew I had to be somewhere at noon. I was in a deep sleep at 9:30 when the phone rang and woke up sort of jangly. It was my father. I told him I would pick him up at one for his appointment. He told me they were out of "everything". I told him to make a list and we would go to Cub after his appointment.

Every now and again I get called to take a taste test. I got to the place and saw posted places where I should park as opposed to general parking. Don't ask me why or how, but I turned into a spot and promptly scraped a brand new, no plates yet, van. I pulled out and parked in the empty next row. I did not even stop to look at my car. Oh my goodness, what have I done? There is a part that wants to run away and pretend it never happened. That is the bad karma creator and the price paid is more than any deductible! I found the owner who was just lovely to me. She had only had the van since Friday and was totally mellow. Not me. But as she pointed out, the work needed to be done whether she flipped out or not. What a woman. She has my information and I am going to pay her deductible. It is not fair for her to suffer for my stupidity. I don't know if I will fix my car or what. New front bumper and light and who knows what? Maybe look into getting something new, or newer. I would like something like an old time Volvo, built like a tank but with better mileage. OY.

Nice taste test. Amazing they can make food that has no smell or taste, but there you have it. If I told you what the product was I would have to kill you. Got the old man to Dr. Stockman and found out he almost weighs 140 pounds. That is good. I wish I weighed that much. Of course at one point I had to leave the room for the obligatory questions about Viagra. Dr. Stockman pointed out that not only do those drugs not work for him, he has a wife who is NOT interested in sex anymore, and hasn't been since she was eighty-eight.

Off to Cub Foods for ice cream and cereal. The old man picked out eleven, count them, eleven boxes of cereal. Everything from Raisin Bran to Reeses Puffs. "Dad, that cereal is chocolate and peanut butter." I was told to mind my business. By this time his ice cream was starting to melt. He picked out two large Bryer's, four Haagen Dazs, and three Ben and Jerry. I managed to put two of the Haagen Dazs away behind his back as he was studying Ben and Jerry. Nathan's hot dogs, buy one, get one free! He also is becoming addicted to precooked Johnsonville Brats.

By the time I got home I was wiped. I realize that my attitude doesn't help. I am not patient and kind. I am impatient and pissy. Can I blame it on menopause or should I just bite the bullet and blame myself? I am not where I want to be doing what I want to do.

I asked Dr Stockman what was the old man's life expectancy. He said he had already exceeded it. I asked if he could live another five years and was told it was quite possible, or he could pop off at anytime. I have taken on the burden of my parents quite voluntarily. Doe tried to prevent me but it was something I felt I had to do. Now I have to see it through, no matter how long it takes. Please, dear Creator, help me do it with love.

This, that, and the other

1. This

Yesterday I looked at places to buy on Craig's List. It is definitely a buyers market. I decided to drive down Cedar Lake Road and look at some of the addresses and see what was happening at open houses. There was an open house in Greenbriar at a town house I can't afford but I had a great talk with the realtor. She is going to show me some things she knows about. I liked two addresses in Ridge Drive. I do not like the ones way down on Cedar Lake Road. They can't seem to give them away. But here is where my philosophical mind gets active. Is it right to ask for a lower price from people who are already in distress? Does this create bad karma, or at least bad real estate karma? As far as short sales go...the bank owns them, I think. If I wanted to live in Brooklyn Park I could get a townhouse for less than sixty thousand. I do not want to live in Brooklyn Park or Center. I do not want to live north. One realtor I spoke with on the phone is going to look into the building near Excelsior Grand. I would love to live on Wolf Park.

It is looking like I can only afford a one bedroom. This makes me a little sad because I have been toying with the idea of doing foster care. I thought of taking in teenagers. This is probably a bad idea because you can't pick and choose and say only give me kids who need temporary shelter while Mom is in the hospital. Don't give me messed up abused kids who need so much more than I can give. Still, the idea of a sweet teenager who needs me is appealing. I am not always a realist.

2. That

After driving around looking at neighborhoods I had an omelet at Perkins and went to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. It is a conundrum, alright. How to cut the book and still keep the essentials of the story? Erica and I have eaten up all the books on CD. Jim Dale does a fabulous job of reading. The mind can form a picture so quickly from the words, but it does take a very long time to listen to twenty or more discs. Laurel has not read or listened to the books and only knows the story from the movies. She is enjoying each installment and getting the essentials. But I can't help wishing there was more to the films. The suspense of getting across the lake to the false horcrux is just a fraction of the book. The entire battle at Hogwarts is eliminated and although Dumbledore has the same end, the spell he puts on Harry so he can not assist is not shown. Too much quiddich for me, although I can see that the children needed a way to ease the tension. All in all, it was a good film. Was it as good as the book? No, but it did what it needed to do.

3. The other

My sweet sister turned fifty-three years old yesterday. Only grown-ups have sisters that old. If I am four and a half years older, am I grown up? Is she grown-up? Happy birthday, Doe! May this year bring laughter and love and fun and adventure. And, as always, wishing you the very best of health. You deserve it!

Buttons Part 2

Last night I wrote about my own buttons. This morning I pushed some myself. I didn't mean to, honestly I didn't. That is the worst part, I just don't know what I can say that won't cause a reaction. I hate walking around on eggshells. I hate watching every word that comes out of my mouth. I hate living in silence for fear of pushing buttons. I hate hiding upstairs.

Today is a good day to find a place I can afford to rent.

Buttons

I was going to write about the old man and the way he can push my buttons. And he does, push my buttons, that is. He acts like a petulant child and I go off my rocker. He doesn't learn, and I don't learn. Then I started thinking about other buttons. Scott and I were talking about a conversation we had and he said I said something and I said no I said something else and we each pushed the other's annoyance button. I think he doesn't listen and he thinks either I don't know what I said or that I was unclear. Oh yeah, we all have buttons. Sometimes we see it happening and other times it takes a while to understand that our buttons have been pushed.

I started thinking about other buttons; how we react to other stimuli. Show me a baby and I smile. I can't help it. Kiss the back of my neck and I melt. Be kind to me and I forgive. But what about the more subtle buttons? Show me that you care for me and I care for you. Look like you need me and I will give to you. What is automatic and what is thought out action?

There is a lot of talk about living a mindful life. Of weighing one's actions before acting. About thinking about what we are doing before doing it and seeing if what we are about to do is of benefit to self, community and planet. Sometimes I am defiantly mindful. I know this ice cream or chocolate is not good for weight, cholesterol, or diabetes, yet I eat it. I want what I want when I want it.

What I really want is a positive life with purpose. Right now I can't seem to achieve it. So instead of focusing on working harder at what needs to be done, I will have some ice cream. It makes no sense except that it is something that I can have right now.

There are some phrases that describe my dilemma, ie: can't fight my way out of a paper bag, can't get myself arrested, my own worst enemy, self defeating behavior. I know I have to do it on my own, but I really wish I had a twin who would keep me motivated and on task. (That or a good friend to kick me in the ass.)

What are the buttons I can push to achieve my goals? I'd love to know.

Roses are red...

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

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

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

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

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

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

My list for Tuesday

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

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

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

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

What just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Going to the cabin

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

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

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