This morning the nurse at assisted care called to tell me my mother was not feeling well. She did not get out of bed and said her stomach hurt. The nurse called the doctor for instructions. His nurse didn't get back to them by two o'clock so I took her to urgent care. Today the old lady looked every day of her 96 years. She put on some makeup, but forgot eyebrows, her hair was awful and she asked if she could take the walker. When we got to the clinic, I got her a wheelchair which we got quite a lot of use of. She was seen by a triage nurse, another nurse, the doctor, two lab and one x-ray tech. Does she still have a bladder infection? Is it pneumonia? Hard to say but they have started her on another dose of antibiotics. They are doing some cultures, too.
She had not eaten all day and was weak, I called for juice and that seemed to revive her. The old lady is a fighter with a strong constitution and a strong will. Although she has most of her marbles she insists that someone gave her a pill that made her sick. She says that as soon as she took that black pill she got sick. She has no black pills. I had to remind her that she felt ill last Friday. She finally said she wants something to blame it on. She told me that as she lay in bed that morning she thought, "This is it, I am dying." We were at the clinic for nearly three hours and she kept saying I was a good daughter and I kept saying it was my pleasure to be there for her.
I feel like I am waiting for the first shoe to drop. One of them is going to die soon. I sure hope it is the old man, because he will not be able to handle losing her. I know he will have to go to Shalom Home if she dies. Everyday he calls me to find out what is on the table. Nothing Dad, I tell him. Today Laurel visited and took him to lunch. Monday Eri and I set up a new TV for the old lady. Nothing until Saturday, Dad. Now I have to figure out something for Saturday, I have been invited to go camping. Maybe the girls can take them to see Sex In The City 2. I know the old lady has been looking forward to it. She loves to look at the clothes.
I have been playing a new to me computer game called Farkle. I am pretty sure it is the same dice game that old Cousin Harriet used to play but they called it Bunco. You can play it alone or against a partner and up until now I have been playing for points. There is another option where you can play for chips if you meet certain conditions. Suddenly everyone who wants to play with a partner is playing for chips. I am not a gambler. I hate losing. But today I played for 100, 500, 1000, and 5000 chips. I won every time by careful attention and strategy. These chips mean nothing, every four hours you can play for more stash. Yet I found myself really wanting to win when thousands of chips were on the line. I got reckless, I got canny, I got sneaky. Phew, what a way to live.
For so many, many years I lived in a state of anxiety. I didn't know it until a doctor told me. When I came home and told S, he said he knew it and was surprised I didn't. Maybe it was losing my mother when I was young, or never knowing when the old man would explode, or always living on the margin, but I was always anxious. I was scared of my life unraveling and having to live in a shelter or go to jail, or something awful. In a way, that something awful has happened. But I have lived through it and I am not in jail, nor will I need to stay in a shelter. I have my health, and very much loved daughters and other family. No, I am not married. No, I am not working for wages. But I am gambling that by living each day and trying to love, I will prevail. There is no anxiety about that at all.
I want a job, and I want an income. By my actions I know I will become employed again. I also know that the end of my parent's lives are coming closer and that the comfort I provide, the availability of my presence is important. By divine grace and my efforts there will be a resolution soon.
Here is a joke that I read to the old lady while we were waiting for her prescription. I paraphrase:
An old lady was brought before the judge for shoplifting. "Mrs Kraputnik, what did you steal?" the judge asked. She explained that it was only a small can of peaches, just six peaches. The judge sentenced her to one night in jail for each peach, six peaches, six nights. As she begged for mercy Mr Kraputnik called out from the gallery, "She also stole a can of peas!"
My mother laughed until she cried.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Oceans
I took the old man and the old lady to the movies yesterday. Our choices were limited. We don't see anything with lots of explosions or violence. The old man refuses to see anything animated and most sci-fi is out. We see a lot of coming attraction trailers and the constant refrain is, "Remind me to miss that one." I told the old man I really wanted to see this nature film and he was fine with it.
First, let me talk about production values. The film was breathtakingly beautiful. Pierce Brosnan narrated and the music was lovely. It is pretty hard to make a comprehensive movie about the oceans of this world in 90 minutes, though. And after awhile it got quite soporific because there wasn't enough contrast. Pierce was always calm and erudite, the music was all of a key and for the most part the film was blue, blue, blue. The old man kept nodding off. At one point he woke up and said he did not want fish for dinner.
The memorable parts were different. Close-ups of amazing looking fish and animals kept our attention, especially when camouflaged fish would hunt. The most powerful image that persists is the very short one of man-made pollution. The sight of miles of plastic bottles and trash as seen from below was powerful, but the one that got my parents attention the most showed a shopping cart and detritus on the ocean floor. That scene was not blue, it was brown and dirty and ugly. My family have never been scuba diving or whale watching, and we don't raise tropical fish. We have been to the grocery store and the image of the cart hit home. We could relate to that and it made us ashamed for the actions of our species.
Another memorable scene showed two armies of spider crabs attacking. Suddenly hundreds and hundreds of these small creatures approach the same territory from different sides and climb all over each other. It was as stupid a battle tactic as I have ever seen. The parallels with humans could not be missed.
As I watched scene after scene of the beauty of our oceans unfold I made two goals for myself. I want to save money and go on a whale watching trip and also learn to scuba dive. I want to go under the sea and see the wonders of our ocean. Yah mon, Jamaica in January watching the pretty fishes sounds good to me. I'd better get a job.
First, let me talk about production values. The film was breathtakingly beautiful. Pierce Brosnan narrated and the music was lovely. It is pretty hard to make a comprehensive movie about the oceans of this world in 90 minutes, though. And after awhile it got quite soporific because there wasn't enough contrast. Pierce was always calm and erudite, the music was all of a key and for the most part the film was blue, blue, blue. The old man kept nodding off. At one point he woke up and said he did not want fish for dinner.
The memorable parts were different. Close-ups of amazing looking fish and animals kept our attention, especially when camouflaged fish would hunt. The most powerful image that persists is the very short one of man-made pollution. The sight of miles of plastic bottles and trash as seen from below was powerful, but the one that got my parents attention the most showed a shopping cart and detritus on the ocean floor. That scene was not blue, it was brown and dirty and ugly. My family have never been scuba diving or whale watching, and we don't raise tropical fish. We have been to the grocery store and the image of the cart hit home. We could relate to that and it made us ashamed for the actions of our species.
Another memorable scene showed two armies of spider crabs attacking. Suddenly hundreds and hundreds of these small creatures approach the same territory from different sides and climb all over each other. It was as stupid a battle tactic as I have ever seen. The parallels with humans could not be missed.
As I watched scene after scene of the beauty of our oceans unfold I made two goals for myself. I want to save money and go on a whale watching trip and also learn to scuba dive. I want to go under the sea and see the wonders of our ocean. Yah mon, Jamaica in January watching the pretty fishes sounds good to me. I'd better get a job.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
My favorite virtue
I was lying in bed, awake and aware at 4:20 and thinking about kindness. Without doubt it is my favorite virtue. "But what about generosity?" I asked myself. One can be generous for many reasons without being kind. Kind can be generous, but it might also withhold giving for the kindest of reasons. I love Truth, Justice, Honesty, Strength, and all the others. They are the ideals we strive towards. But Kindness is not an ideal, it is a way of living that knows no other.
I have noticed in myself and others that when a task is naturally easy we tend to brush off acknowledgment of it's worth. We give a compliment and the other will say something like it's nothing, no big deal, I enjoy doing it, think nothing of it, etc. The action is part of us, like breathing. So it is with kindness and generosity of spirit.
When it became very clear that my long marriage was going to end I made one demand. I wasn't giving up his family. For many years I have been closer to them than my own parents. They are kind people who don't think about being kind, they just are. That is not to say we haven't had our disagreements over the years; of course we have. What matters in the end is the loving acceptance of who we are and the appreciation of that bond.
I am not an exact person. Consequently some of my projects do not get the attention to detail necessary for success. I've learned not to cut fabric for curtains. I love blown glass and know that is a craft for me to admire from afar. My sister-in-law is a very exact person. For years I admired her bookkeeping skills. She would keep a journal of all expenses and it made her happy. We had children who started school the same year and although I bought the same number of school pictures, she was able to keep track of the portraits of four children and frame thirteen years for each. I have no idea where mine are. One day she told me how much she enjoyed painting. I mentioned that I hated the "cutting in" detail. I always got paint on the ceiling. She told me that she liked doing it.
So out of innate kindness and generosity of spirit she came over Sunday night and did the cutting in on the kitchen and bathroom. We talked while she painted and I intermittently worked at getting up the old linoleum. One funny thing I observed is that she watched "The Biggest Loser" reality show and I watched "America's Top Model". The thin watched the fat and the heavy watched the skinny. We talked movies and food and family. I kept thanking her. It was wonderful to me that she was doing an onerous task with such equanimity.
Today I did the roller part of the painting. Wouldn't you know it? I got paint on the ceiling and tiles. (I cleaned it up immediately!) I'm not sure if I love the color; time will tell. Now I am thinking about the rest of the dining and living space. A soft yellowish beige might be perfect. She says she will come back again and do the cutting in. That depth of kindness blows me away. To her, though, it just comes naturally.
I have noticed in myself and others that when a task is naturally easy we tend to brush off acknowledgment of it's worth. We give a compliment and the other will say something like it's nothing, no big deal, I enjoy doing it, think nothing of it, etc. The action is part of us, like breathing. So it is with kindness and generosity of spirit.
When it became very clear that my long marriage was going to end I made one demand. I wasn't giving up his family. For many years I have been closer to them than my own parents. They are kind people who don't think about being kind, they just are. That is not to say we haven't had our disagreements over the years; of course we have. What matters in the end is the loving acceptance of who we are and the appreciation of that bond.
I am not an exact person. Consequently some of my projects do not get the attention to detail necessary for success. I've learned not to cut fabric for curtains. I love blown glass and know that is a craft for me to admire from afar. My sister-in-law is a very exact person. For years I admired her bookkeeping skills. She would keep a journal of all expenses and it made her happy. We had children who started school the same year and although I bought the same number of school pictures, she was able to keep track of the portraits of four children and frame thirteen years for each. I have no idea where mine are. One day she told me how much she enjoyed painting. I mentioned that I hated the "cutting in" detail. I always got paint on the ceiling. She told me that she liked doing it.
So out of innate kindness and generosity of spirit she came over Sunday night and did the cutting in on the kitchen and bathroom. We talked while she painted and I intermittently worked at getting up the old linoleum. One funny thing I observed is that she watched "The Biggest Loser" reality show and I watched "America's Top Model". The thin watched the fat and the heavy watched the skinny. We talked movies and food and family. I kept thanking her. It was wonderful to me that she was doing an onerous task with such equanimity.
Today I did the roller part of the painting. Wouldn't you know it? I got paint on the ceiling and tiles. (I cleaned it up immediately!) I'm not sure if I love the color; time will tell. Now I am thinking about the rest of the dining and living space. A soft yellowish beige might be perfect. She says she will come back again and do the cutting in. That depth of kindness blows me away. To her, though, it just comes naturally.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
The view of two forty year old men
Work on the condo is going great guns! Sheetrock and sanding is done, time to prime because the cabinets will be here Tuesday! Three weeks early! The economy is bad for the building trade but great for the home improver.
Tony has been here every day this week. He put up the wall board and has done all the mudding and sanding. What a mess, a beautifully well-done dusty mess. We got to talking about kids. He has four, three boys and a girl and he says the girl is harder than all three boys put together. He despairs of her learning about responsibility. Turns out, he has never given her any, daddy mops up all spills. I don't think you can blame a kid for going over limit if she doesn't have to do the reconciling or pay the fees. We talked about family placement. It turns out Tony is the middle child. I'm a middle child too. At first he wouldn't tell me how many brothers and sisters he had. He is the middle child of SEVENTEEN! Seven women, two of whom his father married and most REMAIN FRIENDS! Tony's mother ran off when he was five and his father and whatever girlfriend of the moment was living with him raised Tony and whatever other kids were there. Sometimes two women would be living there, sometimes none. He learned to call them Mama Mary, Mama Marie, etc. I said that his father must be extremely charismatic and he just laughed. I asked how the other women dealt with it. His father told him, "A woman can deal with any truth better than a lie." I guess so.
I'd been flirting with a man online and last evening we met for a drink. We met at the W downtown and soon left. I could not handle the noise. We went across the street to the 8th St Pub and sat outside in relative quiet. (If you can call traffic zipping by quiet.) One of the things I won't do is meet a man in a relationship. I do not want to hurt another woman. If he lives apart, as S and I do, that is different. So we established he wasn't married, and he liked being with older women. It was just a drink. Guess what, oh, you've guessed it. He is not married but has lived together with his girlfriend for eight years. Does she know he dates? She might suspect he said. Is she OK with that? They don't talk about it. To give him credit, he doesn't say she doesn't appreciate him or anything like that. She is a flight attendant and he gets lonely when she is gone.
This was a very good looking, well dressed, forty year old professional man. He saw a crazy picture of me dancing (from Eri's wedding) and was attracted. I am not desperate, there are plenty of men who find me attractive, old and round as I am. I don't care that this man is in a relationship other than he lied to me. The fact is he is also lying to himself and his partner. I can meet a man in a relationship for a drink, knowing that it is only a drink. That is why I always insist on meeting in a public place. I'm not a fool or an idiot.
So on one hand, here is hard working Tony, raised in a very non-traditional household, working class, and covered with dust, and on the other professional Philippe, oozing charm and money. I don't want a relationship with either, but there is only one with whom I would ever consider being friends. If anyone wants an HONEST, hard working, sheet rock man, I have Tony's number. If you want to meet Philippe, just turn over a rock, or maybe a marble slab.
Tony has been here every day this week. He put up the wall board and has done all the mudding and sanding. What a mess, a beautifully well-done dusty mess. We got to talking about kids. He has four, three boys and a girl and he says the girl is harder than all three boys put together. He despairs of her learning about responsibility. Turns out, he has never given her any, daddy mops up all spills. I don't think you can blame a kid for going over limit if she doesn't have to do the reconciling or pay the fees. We talked about family placement. It turns out Tony is the middle child. I'm a middle child too. At first he wouldn't tell me how many brothers and sisters he had. He is the middle child of SEVENTEEN! Seven women, two of whom his father married and most REMAIN FRIENDS! Tony's mother ran off when he was five and his father and whatever girlfriend of the moment was living with him raised Tony and whatever other kids were there. Sometimes two women would be living there, sometimes none. He learned to call them Mama Mary, Mama Marie, etc. I said that his father must be extremely charismatic and he just laughed. I asked how the other women dealt with it. His father told him, "A woman can deal with any truth better than a lie." I guess so.
I'd been flirting with a man online and last evening we met for a drink. We met at the W downtown and soon left. I could not handle the noise. We went across the street to the 8th St Pub and sat outside in relative quiet. (If you can call traffic zipping by quiet.) One of the things I won't do is meet a man in a relationship. I do not want to hurt another woman. If he lives apart, as S and I do, that is different. So we established he wasn't married, and he liked being with older women. It was just a drink. Guess what, oh, you've guessed it. He is not married but has lived together with his girlfriend for eight years. Does she know he dates? She might suspect he said. Is she OK with that? They don't talk about it. To give him credit, he doesn't say she doesn't appreciate him or anything like that. She is a flight attendant and he gets lonely when she is gone.
This was a very good looking, well dressed, forty year old professional man. He saw a crazy picture of me dancing (from Eri's wedding) and was attracted. I am not desperate, there are plenty of men who find me attractive, old and round as I am. I don't care that this man is in a relationship other than he lied to me. The fact is he is also lying to himself and his partner. I can meet a man in a relationship for a drink, knowing that it is only a drink. That is why I always insist on meeting in a public place. I'm not a fool or an idiot.
So on one hand, here is hard working Tony, raised in a very non-traditional household, working class, and covered with dust, and on the other professional Philippe, oozing charm and money. I don't want a relationship with either, but there is only one with whom I would ever consider being friends. If anyone wants an HONEST, hard working, sheet rock man, I have Tony's number. If you want to meet Philippe, just turn over a rock, or maybe a marble slab.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Karaoke emotions
if you had asked me a few years ago if I would ever sing Karaoke, I would have said you were out of your mind if you thought I would even be in the same place as Karaoke. But when I joined a group that met on Tuesdays I was introduced to the doubtful pleasure of singing out loud in front of people. In the movie "My Best Friend's Wedding" Julia Roberts manipulates Cameron Diaz into singing a love song to her fiance, hoping it would turn him off and he would realize he loved Julia, not Cameron. But with tears of love, Cameron sings, quite awfully, to her love and he loves her even more.
Well, of that whole scenario, the only thing I have in common with Cameron Diaz is awful singing. The first time I tried it I had to have a friend sing with me and I nearly soaked my shirt with sweat. A year later, I get up with confidence and still sing rather awfully, and have a good time. Tonight I sang Bonnie Raitt's "Nick of Time." I really love that song. I love the rhythm and melody (when I can find it) and the lyrics. They really touch me. She talks about watching her parents grow old and them watching her grow old, too. Then she sings about when she had cried all she could cry and had given up, love found her, just in the nick of time. One woman sang two Judd's songs that I really like. When she sang "Mama he's crazy, and in my life is where he wants to be, I've never been so loved, he beats all I've ever seen, Mama he's crazy, crazy over me", I know that is what I want and that I won't settle for less. When she sang "Grandpa, tell me about the good old days," I remembered driving from Burnsville to Jordan with that song playing and little Eri singing along. I felt I was living that good life where daddies never went away. I remember being thankful for my life.
Today, I am more sure than ever that when I fall in love, if ever, it will have to be with someone who is crazy over me. I like my own company and am not scared of being alone. I miss dancing with my best friend, and laughing, and having a goal with a partner. That is too bad. It is not the end of the world, just the end of an era. Maybe I will find new people to laugh with, not just one. Maybe I will find a new group to dance with, not just one. Maybe working with others I will find a new goal that brings joy through effort.
I read inspirational quotes. I try to take them to heart. I know this life was made for joy, happiness, bliss, and serving the Creator and creation. I'm not going to be "scared to allow the time." I know that if I ever find love again it will be "in the nick of time" and it will be with someone who is "crazy over me." No fear, no fear.
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.
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.
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