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.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mothers Day
Several years ago I was at a very low point in my life. I was looking for something to do to continue living. I had lost my helping job, my children were grown and gone and my husband did not want any of my nurturing. I defined myself by what I could give others and there didn't seem to be any other part of me. I went to a class and the teacher told me I had some serious self-deficiencies.
After our healing ceremony, I started to date. I was so starved for attention and fun and touch that I nearly exploded when a very nice man kissed me. He broke up with me within a week and I had to ask myself why I felt so sad. It wasn't because I was in love with him, not at all. I was having FUN for the first time in years. The last time I had that much fun was protesting through a Wal-Mart store in St. Paul. When I realized I needed fun in my life, I started seeking it.
I did a lot of dating and had a lot of fun. I realized I was so much more than a mother, I was a beautiful, if rounded, woman worthy of desire and I had a lot to give. It was wonderfully liberating and broke the chains of just being the helping mother. I rediscovered my femininity and other sides to my personality. It has been fun, but also sobering. Being a single woman at 58 is a much different experience than when I was young. I have so much more to discover about the woman that I am, and much of it includes learning to appreciate being alone.
Recently I have had the good fortune to be with a five month old, three toddlers and a three year old. I loved almost every moment of holding that baby, playing with those toddlers and talking to the big boy. My own dear daughter came over to color my hair. I still relish being a mother and know that part of me is alive and well. But now I know that being a mother means more than that nurturing. I know being a successful mother is being a whole woman.
Bravo to you my friends and readers for all you do for others and for what you do for yourself. Happy Mothers Day!
After our healing ceremony, I started to date. I was so starved for attention and fun and touch that I nearly exploded when a very nice man kissed me. He broke up with me within a week and I had to ask myself why I felt so sad. It wasn't because I was in love with him, not at all. I was having FUN for the first time in years. The last time I had that much fun was protesting through a Wal-Mart store in St. Paul. When I realized I needed fun in my life, I started seeking it.
I did a lot of dating and had a lot of fun. I realized I was so much more than a mother, I was a beautiful, if rounded, woman worthy of desire and I had a lot to give. It was wonderfully liberating and broke the chains of just being the helping mother. I rediscovered my femininity and other sides to my personality. It has been fun, but also sobering. Being a single woman at 58 is a much different experience than when I was young. I have so much more to discover about the woman that I am, and much of it includes learning to appreciate being alone.
Recently I have had the good fortune to be with a five month old, three toddlers and a three year old. I loved almost every moment of holding that baby, playing with those toddlers and talking to the big boy. My own dear daughter came over to color my hair. I still relish being a mother and know that part of me is alive and well. But now I know that being a mother means more than that nurturing. I know being a successful mother is being a whole woman.
Bravo to you my friends and readers for all you do for others and for what you do for yourself. Happy Mothers Day!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
My interpretation of that funny dream
It occurs to me that I can interpret my dreams as well as anyone else in a way that makes sense to me if I put my mind to it.
I have been thinking about my dream where the old lady happily shrinks away and the old man is looking for a place to plug in an electrical recharger. As the old lady ages and gets smaller, she is remarkably happy. Tell her she looks good and her day is made. She has always said that she doesn't want to live to be a hundred. She is shrinking, her world is shrinking, she is losing her short term memory and is ready to die when it happens. In my life her presence makes less of an impact and I will neither miss or not miss her when she is gone. It will be an end and a finish. She lost the power to hurt me. I never really invested in her.
The old man is quite different. He is hanging on to life with every ounce of being. He is confused and scared and who knows what else? He does not want to die and would rather be bedridden with no quality of life, should that happen, than die. Of course he is looking for that outlet for energy. The surprising thing is how I enable him. I help him look, crawling on floors, reaching for outlets. I say I want him to die, but I wonder, does my subconscious agree?
I have been thinking about my dream where the old lady happily shrinks away and the old man is looking for a place to plug in an electrical recharger. As the old lady ages and gets smaller, she is remarkably happy. Tell her she looks good and her day is made. She has always said that she doesn't want to live to be a hundred. She is shrinking, her world is shrinking, she is losing her short term memory and is ready to die when it happens. In my life her presence makes less of an impact and I will neither miss or not miss her when she is gone. It will be an end and a finish. She lost the power to hurt me. I never really invested in her.
The old man is quite different. He is hanging on to life with every ounce of being. He is confused and scared and who knows what else? He does not want to die and would rather be bedridden with no quality of life, should that happen, than die. Of course he is looking for that outlet for energy. The surprising thing is how I enable him. I help him look, crawling on floors, reaching for outlets. I say I want him to die, but I wonder, does my subconscious agree?
Monday, May 3, 2010
Funny dreams
The electricians were here today. I hid out in the "party" room upstairs. I thought I could use my computer but because I had no electricity for the router from my place for the internet, I wound up just resting on a couch and dozing. I had some doozy dreams.
The old man was in a nursing home and I would come visit. Somehow or the other he was in a double bed with some stranger. The old lady came to visit and she was only about three feet tall. "Ma," I shouted, "How did you get so short?" She laughed up at me and said, "I don't know. Am I short?" We went looking for the old man who was trying to find an outlet for a rechargeable something. I saw myself trying to reach across counters to plug in, crawling on the floor looking for an outlet. Suddenly S was there too and I was introducing myself as Carol Sandberg, daughter of Sidney Smoller but the nurse was thinking S was my father. But what was it all about? Teeth! The old man needed his old bridge fixed and suddenly my gold teeth were loose too. I was flipping out because I could not afford new teeth and such. Oy, oy, oy. But then I said I will charge them and went ahead and answered the phone which woke me up and heard the electrician say they were done.
So what does it mean? Probably nothing.
What a funny way to spend the day!
The old man was in a nursing home and I would come visit. Somehow or the other he was in a double bed with some stranger. The old lady came to visit and she was only about three feet tall. "Ma," I shouted, "How did you get so short?" She laughed up at me and said, "I don't know. Am I short?" We went looking for the old man who was trying to find an outlet for a rechargeable something. I saw myself trying to reach across counters to plug in, crawling on the floor looking for an outlet. Suddenly S was there too and I was introducing myself as Carol Sandberg, daughter of Sidney Smoller but the nurse was thinking S was my father. But what was it all about? Teeth! The old man needed his old bridge fixed and suddenly my gold teeth were loose too. I was flipping out because I could not afford new teeth and such. Oy, oy, oy. But then I said I will charge them and went ahead and answered the phone which woke me up and heard the electrician say they were done.
So what does it mean? Probably nothing.
What a funny way to spend the day!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
God on the elephant
There is a story from India about a holy man walking down the street. He saw a rogue elephant coming at him but wasn't worried because he knew God would protect him. On top of the elephant the driver was yelling "Get out of the road!!!" but the holy man continued knowing that God would protect him. The elephant trampled him and as he was lying there his rescuers asked why he didn't get out of the road. Didn't he hear the warnings from the elephant's trainer? The man said he thought God would protect him. He was told "That was God talking to you from the back of the elephant!"
Today, I felt like God bringing a message. I sat at a picnic table to enjoy a soft drink outside a store. There was an older couple and a bit younger woman with them and we talked about how 57 degrees could feel warm or cold, it was all in one's perspective. One thing led to another and the younger woman talked about having breast cancer. She was a one year survivor and wanted to die. I talked to her about both my mothers who had cancer. One died at age 42 and the other is a 30 year survivor at age 96. She just wanted to die. I asked her why she was so selfish. She didn't understand. I asked why she wanted to hurt her mother and father and daughter? Why would she deny her grandchildren a grandmother. She thought her life was worthless and I told her that God had put me there at that table today to tell her to work through her despair and become a stronger women and find her destiny. She was meant to inspire others. She hadn't, at age 40, begun to achieve her potential. and on it went. Her parents were quite happy but the woman said she just wanted to die. I said that she should do it soon to put everyone out of her misery and said to her parents that maybe she needed to go to a mental hospital. She had already been. After my drink I had to leave and I said to her that there was a reason I sat at her table today. It was to tell her to work on getting better and enjoying life.
Mental illness/health is such a hard thing. It is hard to get good care. It is hard to get holistic care. I do not know the answer.
Of course after feeling all spiritual and clean and wise I had to blow it. I had to see how very far there is still left to go. Hubris is a killer. Thanks for the wake-up call! I'll tell you what happened. I took the old man and lady to the movies this afternoon. We saw an absolutely wonderful film called City Island. We all enjoyed it immensely. Funny and hopeful and so real to life. Andy Garcia was amazing, as was the whole cast. As we were going to the elevator the old man got nastier and nastier. We got off on the mezzanine and he screamed he was going to pee in his pants. Well, there went my good mood. There went my happiness, I was pissed. Why didn't he just say he needed to use the men's room? Why did he have to put us down for discussing the movie? Why could he be scathing and not be able to just say let's hurry to the men's room. So when he came out I let him have it. I yelled at him for being so nasty and ruining my good time. He was fine, but I was a mess.
I thought we would go around the corner to a nice restaurant and on the way there the old lady got faint. It scared me. I could not carry her and there was no place for her to sit. Eventually we made it to the place. She had to sit down and rest and eventually felt like she could eat. A large Coca Cola helped restore her blood sugar and equilibrium. She kept saying how much better she felt.
So God in the guise of my thousand year old parents has spoken to me. Have patience with these old people. Have understanding of their frailties. Be the person I want to be, not just the mouthpiece. It is not enough to talk the talk, but I have to walk the walk of loving.
Today, I felt like God bringing a message. I sat at a picnic table to enjoy a soft drink outside a store. There was an older couple and a bit younger woman with them and we talked about how 57 degrees could feel warm or cold, it was all in one's perspective. One thing led to another and the younger woman talked about having breast cancer. She was a one year survivor and wanted to die. I talked to her about both my mothers who had cancer. One died at age 42 and the other is a 30 year survivor at age 96. She just wanted to die. I asked her why she was so selfish. She didn't understand. I asked why she wanted to hurt her mother and father and daughter? Why would she deny her grandchildren a grandmother. She thought her life was worthless and I told her that God had put me there at that table today to tell her to work through her despair and become a stronger women and find her destiny. She was meant to inspire others. She hadn't, at age 40, begun to achieve her potential. and on it went. Her parents were quite happy but the woman said she just wanted to die. I said that she should do it soon to put everyone out of her misery and said to her parents that maybe she needed to go to a mental hospital. She had already been. After my drink I had to leave and I said to her that there was a reason I sat at her table today. It was to tell her to work on getting better and enjoying life.
Mental illness/health is such a hard thing. It is hard to get good care. It is hard to get holistic care. I do not know the answer.
Of course after feeling all spiritual and clean and wise I had to blow it. I had to see how very far there is still left to go. Hubris is a killer. Thanks for the wake-up call! I'll tell you what happened. I took the old man and lady to the movies this afternoon. We saw an absolutely wonderful film called City Island. We all enjoyed it immensely. Funny and hopeful and so real to life. Andy Garcia was amazing, as was the whole cast. As we were going to the elevator the old man got nastier and nastier. We got off on the mezzanine and he screamed he was going to pee in his pants. Well, there went my good mood. There went my happiness, I was pissed. Why didn't he just say he needed to use the men's room? Why did he have to put us down for discussing the movie? Why could he be scathing and not be able to just say let's hurry to the men's room. So when he came out I let him have it. I yelled at him for being so nasty and ruining my good time. He was fine, but I was a mess.
I thought we would go around the corner to a nice restaurant and on the way there the old lady got faint. It scared me. I could not carry her and there was no place for her to sit. Eventually we made it to the place. She had to sit down and rest and eventually felt like she could eat. A large Coca Cola helped restore her blood sugar and equilibrium. She kept saying how much better she felt.
So God in the guise of my thousand year old parents has spoken to me. Have patience with these old people. Have understanding of their frailties. Be the person I want to be, not just the mouthpiece. It is not enough to talk the talk, but I have to walk the walk of loving.
Friday, April 30, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
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).
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
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?
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?
Saturday, April 10, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, April 5, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 29, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Friday, March 26, 2010
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.
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.
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