If, as a woman, you want to feel both invisible and sexless, put on a hairnet. Suddenly you are generically female, unattractive, and totally forgettable. If a man wears a hairnet, it is noted. "Hey, there's a guy wearing a hairnet, doesn't he look stupid?" Except for Ester, who is 92 and tiny, we all look the same. We can be 40 or 70, lunch ladies all. The other day I was recognized twice. First it was my internist. Then it was someone I worked with at the Hilton. What made them look twice at me was my voice. And they did have to look twice.
Uniforms are funny things. I did not grow up wearing one and used to envy the Catholic School kids who did not have to decide what to wear each day or keep up with fashion. I later learned that the kind of white sox or saddle shoes or loafers became just as important to them as the fads in the public schools. As an adult the only uniforms I've worn have been in food service. The uniform allowed me to go up to a table of strangers and talk to them. The uniform allows me to stand in Costco repeating drivel about pizza to the multitudes. "Made in Maple Lake by your neighbors Ole and Guido!" (I made that up for laughs. Also Sven and Tony, and Lena and Maria, a takeoff on the old Ole and Lena jokes.)
Why do we put people with weapons in uniforms? Why do monks, nuns and priests of different religions wear identical clothing? Is it easier for individuals obey authority if they are all perceived as the same? There is no ego, just a soldier, or a religious. In Buddhism the monks and nuns all shave their heads and wear the same robes. I wonder if there is a cool way to wear them that only the evolved know?
Yesterday I stood in front of a mirror and tucked all my hair under a net and stared at my naked face. I looked old and ugly, and after adding an apron, sexless. I know that I don't look my age, am pretty and a desirable woman. At the local upscale market the product demonstrators wear pretty blue jackets and present dainty tidbits. They have their hair and makeup just so and look like the suburban women they are. I know the hairnet doesn't actually change me, just the perception people have of me. I become just the sample lady with the pizza who is cutting as fast as she can.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Name that kitten!
I found a little Himalayan/Siamese mix and took him home. He reminds me of Baby, the tiny little Siamese I used to have, but noisier! I think the new one protests too much to take seriously. Piper is wrestling and biting him. The new one is howling and carrying on... but not running away. I think he is just a noisy one. I have a feeling they are going to be real buds and I have not been bitten or scratched in twenty-four hours. (I just separated them and put the little one near his hiding place. He did not hide, he turned around and ran after Piper. They are having a high old time.)
Piper came to me at 4 weeks and less than a pound. He is now just short of three months and so pretty. He has nearly tripled his weight. This new one is a small eight weeks and feisty. He has seal point coloring, light beige with dark brown ears, legs, feet and tail. His face is a mask with dark in the middle, getting lighter towards the eyes and chin, and a flattish nose. So he looks very Siamese all over but his Himalayan nose.
What should I name this blue-eyed babe? I have been thinking of Chatty, because he talks all the time and chat is French for cat. Or Talker, or Squeaks. Not very imaginative, I know. I wish I had a picture to show. (Or knew where my camera was!)
Suggestions? Please! We've already used Baby, Honey, Buddy, Hunter, Slinky, Marshy, Lily, Parsley, Pepper, David and Anastasia on past pets. If you had a noisy, feisty little kitten, what would you name him? (Lucky?)
Piper came to me at 4 weeks and less than a pound. He is now just short of three months and so pretty. He has nearly tripled his weight. This new one is a small eight weeks and feisty. He has seal point coloring, light beige with dark brown ears, legs, feet and tail. His face is a mask with dark in the middle, getting lighter towards the eyes and chin, and a flattish nose. So he looks very Siamese all over but his Himalayan nose.
What should I name this blue-eyed babe? I have been thinking of Chatty, because he talks all the time and chat is French for cat. Or Talker, or Squeaks. Not very imaginative, I know. I wish I had a picture to show. (Or knew where my camera was!)
Suggestions? Please! We've already used Baby, Honey, Buddy, Hunter, Slinky, Marshy, Lily, Parsley, Pepper, David and Anastasia on past pets. If you had a noisy, feisty little kitten, what would you name him? (Lucky?)
Monday, September 27, 2010
Make new friends but keep the old.
I went to the sweetest party on Saturday night. So sweet, like honey, like nectar, like love. A dear old friend turned 60. Tim and his brother Peter, who is also an old friend, decided to invite all the old gang to a party. They used to have a band and brought in the singer, Ron, from Ohio. They played the old songs and it was so incredibly sweet. At the end Peter told me he and his wonderful Deb are moving to upstate NY for a job. This might be the last time I see Peter and Deb and it shook me. I AM grateful to facebook, indeed.
This get together did not feel like nostalgia. Nostalgia hurts, this gathering healed. It was fun to see each other with gray hair. We are still the same, but gray. The boy who was so young in 1973 is just about my age in 2010. Three years is nothing at our age. The redhead is now brown. But we are the same loving hearts. They were happy to see me, and I was happy, so happy to see them. I left before the end so there was no letdown, just peace and love and the reminder that I am blessed with the gift of joy.
Peter and Debbie, this is for you, with love and affection and all best wishes for future happiness.
This get together did not feel like nostalgia. Nostalgia hurts, this gathering healed. It was fun to see each other with gray hair. We are still the same, but gray. The boy who was so young in 1973 is just about my age in 2010. Three years is nothing at our age. The redhead is now brown. But we are the same loving hearts. They were happy to see me, and I was happy, so happy to see them. I left before the end so there was no letdown, just peace and love and the reminder that I am blessed with the gift of joy.
Peter and Debbie, this is for you, with love and affection and all best wishes for future happiness.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Day is done
Almost midnight and September 20, 2010 will be over. Just a day like any other day, but a day I put an importance to. A long time ago Maharaji spoke about birthdays. Why do we only celebrate on that particular day? After all, the next day after your birthday is just as significant. Why don't we celebrate our birthday and three days? Why is anniversary 35 so much more significant than 33 and 34, both of which we ignored after our healing ceremony? It must be the decimal system. Still being legally married while living apart has it's own stresses (I need his health insurance). That was shown in the past week when S was released from the hospital, not into my care, but chose instead to go to a friend to recuperate.
So this morning I cried that I was old and poor and unloved. I got into it good. I cried just short of making myself sick. Then I went out and did errands and went to work. Even a crappy job is better than staying at home feeling sorry for myself. I was giving out "Roasted Garlic and Black Bean Nine Grain Tostito Artisan Chips". Try saying that hour after hour and you would get a little punchy too. This one old couple came by and the man asked me if his wife would still kiss him if he smelled like garlic. I asked if she would kiss him before he ate the chips. They both smiled. I said he must be a good kisser and they both really smiled. So I told her to eat a chip too so they would both smell the same and go home and spend the afternoon kissing. They walked away with a real spring in their step, they had to be at least eighty and still very fond of each other.
Earlier I asked a tall woman if I could borrow her even taller husband to clip something on a sign I could not reach. Her name is Carole with an e and she agreed all the best people are (Carols). I started to joke that the chips were 100% natural, we did not add any gravel or plastic soldiers. Oh yeah, I knock myself out at times. I saw an old man with bluish fingers and asked if his hands were cold? Always. I said mine were always hot and rubbed his for a moment. His little old wife laughed when I said he should warm them up under her armpits. (Will I get fired for my big mouth? Not if I keep flogging these samples and pushing the product.) I admired every baby I saw and engaged all the little kids. I showed a little girl how to click her ruby slippers and say, "There's no place like home." I tell you, I sold over 100 bags of expensive chips and stopped feeling sorry for myself.
As an aside, I just want to say I am very proud of the many customers who do take the time to read the nutrition information on labels. America has set the standard in nutritional labeling and foreign manufacturers know they have to meet those standards to sell in the US. We might be fat, but we are informed.
Well, it is now September 21st, 2010 and my first great-nephew is four years old today. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. That is why they call it the present. Happy Birthday Ethan, I love you.
Day is done
Gone the sun,
From the hills,
From the lakes,
From the sky.
All is well,
Safely rest,
God is nigh.
So this morning I cried that I was old and poor and unloved. I got into it good. I cried just short of making myself sick. Then I went out and did errands and went to work. Even a crappy job is better than staying at home feeling sorry for myself. I was giving out "Roasted Garlic and Black Bean Nine Grain Tostito Artisan Chips". Try saying that hour after hour and you would get a little punchy too. This one old couple came by and the man asked me if his wife would still kiss him if he smelled like garlic. I asked if she would kiss him before he ate the chips. They both smiled. I said he must be a good kisser and they both really smiled. So I told her to eat a chip too so they would both smell the same and go home and spend the afternoon kissing. They walked away with a real spring in their step, they had to be at least eighty and still very fond of each other.
Earlier I asked a tall woman if I could borrow her even taller husband to clip something on a sign I could not reach. Her name is Carole with an e and she agreed all the best people are (Carols). I started to joke that the chips were 100% natural, we did not add any gravel or plastic soldiers. Oh yeah, I knock myself out at times. I saw an old man with bluish fingers and asked if his hands were cold? Always. I said mine were always hot and rubbed his for a moment. His little old wife laughed when I said he should warm them up under her armpits. (Will I get fired for my big mouth? Not if I keep flogging these samples and pushing the product.) I admired every baby I saw and engaged all the little kids. I showed a little girl how to click her ruby slippers and say, "There's no place like home." I tell you, I sold over 100 bags of expensive chips and stopped feeling sorry for myself.
As an aside, I just want to say I am very proud of the many customers who do take the time to read the nutrition information on labels. America has set the standard in nutritional labeling and foreign manufacturers know they have to meet those standards to sell in the US. We might be fat, but we are informed.
Well, it is now September 21st, 2010 and my first great-nephew is four years old today. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. That is why they call it the present. Happy Birthday Ethan, I love you.
Day is done
Gone the sun,
From the hills,
From the lakes,
From the sky.
All is well,
Safely rest,
God is nigh.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Attachment
He who is overly attached to his family members experiences fear and sorrow, for the root of all grief is attachment. Thus one should discard attachment to be happy. -Chanakya
Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go. -Herman Hesse
This has been a hell of a week to be an almost ex-wife.
As far as I know, Scott is doing as well as can be expected. They released him on Wednesday. Erica picked him up and he is recovering at the home of a friend.
So thanks for all your good wishes.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Kitty tales and life under the visor
1.
I woke up a few minutes ago to find Piper sleeping between my feet. I started to laugh as I thought back seventeen years. My tiny Siamese kitten, Baby, would nestle between my legs and I'd say, "Look, I have a furry little pussy between my legs." My daughters, fifteen and eleven, would yell, "Mom! Stop it" but I would only laugh. I totally cracked myself up embarrassing them. It was the height of motherly fun.
How can that be seventeen years ago? How can I have gotten Baby Boy for my forty-first birthday and how can he be gone for three years already? He made us laugh as a kitten and three months after his death, he made us laugh again. One day in May a friend called S and asked what he was doing. I could only hear this end and it went like this: "Burying a cat... February... in the freezer... in a box... with a label!" It was true the ground was too hard to bury him under the day lilies with our other cats when he died. So we lovingly wrapped a shoebox in tin foil and a Ziploc bag and put him in the freezer. After the phone call we wondered what would have happened if the police had looked in our freezer and found a box labelled: Baby, died February 1, bury when ground thaws. We laughed and laughed. I loved that little cat.
Spray bottle aversion therapy seems to be working on Piper. He is not biting as often in play and has started letting me pet him while he rests without attacking my hand. I usually find him somewhere under the covers when I wake up. He purrs when he sees me and purrs when I pick him up. I find it comforting to have someone greet me when I come home from work.
2.
For the first time I understand why guys like to wear ball caps. It is the very reason why I don't like wearing one; restricted vision. You can't see above the visor without bending the neck back. It keeps one focused looking straight ahead and down. My job as a demonstrator requires me to wear one and I am always looking down and ahead to a very small area between aisles. I do not get spaced out when I am under the visor. (Sort of like blinders on a horse.)
It is interesting pushing product. There is no ego involved. I put out the product and talk about it. I don't have to like it or dislike it. I talk facts, ten grams of protein and only three grams of fat. It doesn't matter if people take it or decline. The time goes fairly quickly until about three when traffic gets real slow. Then it is four o'clock and time to clean up. Out by four thirty and taking a nap by five. Then, because I slept in the evening, up again at three to blog. It is a funny old life.
I woke up a few minutes ago to find Piper sleeping between my feet. I started to laugh as I thought back seventeen years. My tiny Siamese kitten, Baby, would nestle between my legs and I'd say, "Look, I have a furry little pussy between my legs." My daughters, fifteen and eleven, would yell, "Mom! Stop it" but I would only laugh. I totally cracked myself up embarrassing them. It was the height of motherly fun.
How can that be seventeen years ago? How can I have gotten Baby Boy for my forty-first birthday and how can he be gone for three years already? He made us laugh as a kitten and three months after his death, he made us laugh again. One day in May a friend called S and asked what he was doing. I could only hear this end and it went like this: "Burying a cat... February... in the freezer... in a box... with a label!" It was true the ground was too hard to bury him under the day lilies with our other cats when he died. So we lovingly wrapped a shoebox in tin foil and a Ziploc bag and put him in the freezer. After the phone call we wondered what would have happened if the police had looked in our freezer and found a box labelled: Baby, died February 1, bury when ground thaws. We laughed and laughed. I loved that little cat.
Spray bottle aversion therapy seems to be working on Piper. He is not biting as often in play and has started letting me pet him while he rests without attacking my hand. I usually find him somewhere under the covers when I wake up. He purrs when he sees me and purrs when I pick him up. I find it comforting to have someone greet me when I come home from work.
2.
For the first time I understand why guys like to wear ball caps. It is the very reason why I don't like wearing one; restricted vision. You can't see above the visor without bending the neck back. It keeps one focused looking straight ahead and down. My job as a demonstrator requires me to wear one and I am always looking down and ahead to a very small area between aisles. I do not get spaced out when I am under the visor. (Sort of like blinders on a horse.)
It is interesting pushing product. There is no ego involved. I put out the product and talk about it. I don't have to like it or dislike it. I talk facts, ten grams of protein and only three grams of fat. It doesn't matter if people take it or decline. The time goes fairly quickly until about three when traffic gets real slow. Then it is four o'clock and time to clean up. Out by four thirty and taking a nap by five. Then, because I slept in the evening, up again at three to blog. It is a funny old life.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Like having a toddler
Having a young kitten around is similar to having a toddler. Piper gets into everything and is having a hard time understanding the word no. He is a biter. If he were still with his mother he would be wrestling and biting his litter mates. If he bit mom too hard, she would bite back. I don't (and won't) bite back. For a while he would cease biting at a sharp word, but now it is the water bottle. Bite me and get spritzed.
I once read that there is a particular moth that is used in scientific research because all specimens react exactly the same. There is no personality to get in the way. Not so humans, and not so cats. I can not remember any other kitten being such a biter. Of course, no other kitten came to me so young. I am a mother, but not a cat mother and must use other skills. Just as when my daughters were tiny, I have to find what works.
When our oldest was a baby we had very little furniture and the stereo equipment sat on the floor. She would approach it and S would say in a very firm voice, "NO!" She would back off and leave it alone. By the time the younger reached that age the stereo was up on a shelf. It didn't matter what we did or said, she was going to touch that equipment; the little Fisher-Price music box turntable would not do. She had her eye on the Bang and Olufson. We finally gave in and taught her how to use it, including how to hold a record.
Well cats are not kids and Piper doesn't want to use a piece of equipment. He wants a piece of me, and frankly if he doesn't stop biting, he is going to be one wet kitty. Have water bottle, will spray. Bring it on you cute thang! (He's sitting in front of the computer purring.)
I once read that there is a particular moth that is used in scientific research because all specimens react exactly the same. There is no personality to get in the way. Not so humans, and not so cats. I can not remember any other kitten being such a biter. Of course, no other kitten came to me so young. I am a mother, but not a cat mother and must use other skills. Just as when my daughters were tiny, I have to find what works.
When our oldest was a baby we had very little furniture and the stereo equipment sat on the floor. She would approach it and S would say in a very firm voice, "NO!" She would back off and leave it alone. By the time the younger reached that age the stereo was up on a shelf. It didn't matter what we did or said, she was going to touch that equipment; the little Fisher-Price music box turntable would not do. She had her eye on the Bang and Olufson. We finally gave in and taught her how to use it, including how to hold a record.
Well cats are not kids and Piper doesn't want to use a piece of equipment. He wants a piece of me, and frankly if he doesn't stop biting, he is going to be one wet kitty. Have water bottle, will spray. Bring it on you cute thang! (He's sitting in front of the computer purring.)
Thursday, September 2, 2010
About that kitten
About five weeks ago I brought an abandoned kitten into my life. The vet thought he was about four weeks old. At twelve ounces, he weighed only three quarters of a pound. We know he spent at least one night alone after being thrown from a car because his sister was rescued from a drainage pipe the day before and luck alone that his rescuers thought to go back and search for siblings. They found one other, my boy Piper.
Time for a progress report. He is getting huge! I am not sure what he weighs but he has doubled in size and quadrupled in fun. He is going to be long legged tall and long all over. Right now he reminds me of a skinny ten year old boy, always hungry, putting away a ton of food. He makes his own fun. Sometimes in the night I hear a little ball being batted into walls. Right now he is having fun playing soccer with a bottle cap. He carries things from room to room in his mouth amassing his treasures under the bed. So far he has bottle caps, a ribbon, a taffy wrapper, and every used tissue and paper napkin he can steal.
He bats gently at my ankles following me wherever I go and I am learning to look down before stepping backward. He emerges stretching from under the skirt of an armchair when I come home. He greets me and welcomes guests, but only if they are with me.
At age forty-one I asked for a kitten. I needed something young to offset the independence of teenage daughters. Baby Boy was just right at the time. I loved him dearly all his life and was not looking for another kitten. Piper and I have fallen into each other's life. I rescued him from a short existence in the wild and he repays me with purrs and nips and absolute trust.
What a kitten! What a cat!
(I will post pictures after I find where the camera is hiding.)
Sunday, August 29, 2010
A Time To Love
The old lady laments that she can't have nostalgia with the old man because he doesn't remember anything. The old man says there is nothing worth remembering, that these are the good old days. Maybe he is right. But if you don't remember the past do you ever learn anything? I want to remember this time and enjoy it too. Not everyday is a party, but isn't everyday a time to love?
Our honorary niece, Crystal, married her love high on top of a ski slope on Saturday. We took the chair lift to a sweet tented pavilion set up for the ceremony. Looking down we could see this beautiful, verdant area and because the sky was so clear we could see downtown Minneapolis. The words were simple and simply said, to love each other. Our extended family sat together in a state of bliss. We were loving love and that expression of love by two people we loved. I think we all got a little verklempt when we saw the lovely bride and when she and Mark faced each other and held hands.
I know that time of marriage with S is over. I don't really miss him as much as I miss working towards the goal of a good life together. As I watched Crystal and Mark, I wanted so much to tell them not to let life get them down. Let life bring you together.
This evening I took the old man and old lady to Chez Daniel in Bloomington. They love the rack of lamb, which is cooked to order. We spent a very easy two and a half hours in a nice setting enjoying good food. We did not have to go anywhere and the old lady said it was like being on vacation. I think back to when they first came out here and the agony of eating out with them. Being in a state of peacefulness and love certainly helped to enjoy the meal. I did not get indigestion. Were they any better? Not at all. My father was rude to the wait assistant and my mother took out her teeth and rinsed them in the water glass.
The awareness of love is a gift. Although it is always there, surrounding us and keeping us alive, the recognition of love is precious. And for all the times I forget, right now I am remembering that the time to love is now.
Our honorary niece, Crystal, married her love high on top of a ski slope on Saturday. We took the chair lift to a sweet tented pavilion set up for the ceremony. Looking down we could see this beautiful, verdant area and because the sky was so clear we could see downtown Minneapolis. The words were simple and simply said, to love each other. Our extended family sat together in a state of bliss. We were loving love and that expression of love by two people we loved. I think we all got a little verklempt when we saw the lovely bride and when she and Mark faced each other and held hands.
I know that time of marriage with S is over. I don't really miss him as much as I miss working towards the goal of a good life together. As I watched Crystal and Mark, I wanted so much to tell them not to let life get them down. Let life bring you together.
This evening I took the old man and old lady to Chez Daniel in Bloomington. They love the rack of lamb, which is cooked to order. We spent a very easy two and a half hours in a nice setting enjoying good food. We did not have to go anywhere and the old lady said it was like being on vacation. I think back to when they first came out here and the agony of eating out with them. Being in a state of peacefulness and love certainly helped to enjoy the meal. I did not get indigestion. Were they any better? Not at all. My father was rude to the wait assistant and my mother took out her teeth and rinsed them in the water glass.
The awareness of love is a gift. Although it is always there, surrounding us and keeping us alive, the recognition of love is precious. And for all the times I forget, right now I am remembering that the time to love is now.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Mother's helper
The old lady called and told me there is something wrong with her TV. She hears a voice at about three in the morning yelling, "Wake up, wake up!" followed by the sound of birds. She said she has heard the birds for a couple of days but last night was the first time she heard the wake up words. I can't find any alarm on her set or on the remote. I called Dynex and spoke to someone with a heavy accent who assured me that any kind of alarm on the set would be a beep. The old lady wears a talking watch and while I was there it announced that it was 10 AM. Since it was late afternoon I knew her watch was wrong. How she got it fapoopled I don't know. I said I thought the setting for the alarm was off, too, and that she must have selected something other than the usual rooster. She insists it is the TV.
The old man wasn't wearing his dentures and hearing aids. He was taking tiny little shuffling steps, and wasn't using words, just a kind of sign language. He is a mess and I got him talking and when I asked him if he was wearing his teeth he was genuinely amazed to realize he hadn't put them in. The little radio/cd player he takes out to the gazebo is screwed up and I left with a talking watch, the radio and the realization that these people are exceeding all life expectancies at 95 and 96. I thought last summer was the last time the old man would go in the lake but he surprised us and was able to float around with Erica twice this summer. I can't imagine, even if he makes it another year, that he will be able to go in the lake again.
This evening was the last Wednesday concert for the summer at Wolfe Lake Park. The Sounds of Simon is a very talented Simon and Garfunkel tribute band. Once again I am in awe of the poetry and songwriting skills of Paul Simon and grateful to be living in a lovely area. I thank again the people who have made it possible to be here and also there for my parents when they need me.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
How not to impress me
Be careful what you wish for! I mentioned that I would like to meet a man who isn't shy and is an interesting conversationalist. I said I was tired of carrying the conversation. Well! I forgot to say make sure he lets you talk too and is not a windbag. Everyday is another learning experience. The lesson? None of us is as interesting as we think we are. Hence the short entry.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Pride and Papa
There is an old saying that pride goeth before a fall. I think it doesn't have to be before a fall; it can be before a step down. When I first lost my job, I was confident I would have a new one before the unemployment ran out. I was not going to take a job that paid less than what I was making. That did not happen. Here is another way of looking at it. Using "goeth" for goes, pride must leave before one can take a step down. One must get rid of pride before anything can happen. Five years later pride is gone, I am open. I am at a point financially that I became willing to look at jobs that I otherwise would not consider.
Today I took a drug test to prove that I am safe to hand out samples at Costco. (In fact I had to take three because I didn't give them enough the first two times. Not much pride in sitting in a waiting room for hours nursing cups of water.) I am excited to have a job. I hope I am good at it and don't lose my cool with the customers. As soon as they get back the criminal background check, I'll start my training. (Veggie chips? Right over here sir.)
Yesterday I had to take the old man to the dermatologist where they carved away a little more of his skin, this time on his arm. While we were in the car I told him about the job and the criminal check. I joked that those ten years at Leavenworth will look bad on my record. Then I asked him if he ever was in jail and he answered, "Sure." I asked what for and he told me because he had nowhere to stay. He was thirteen or fourteen. How many times? He thought maybe eight times. Then I asked him what happened, where did he go after jail? Did he find a place to stay? He went back to the streets and found a grate. My heart broke for that poor scared child. I never knew that.
He had a mother and a father, grandparents and cousins and no one to take him in. He wasn't a bad child, a thief or a criminal, just unwanted and overlooked. He is deeply flawed, and in his mind he did his best to keep his family together after my mother died. He provided a home and a step mother. He was a madman it is true. It was only when he was 90 and started taking antidepressants that he became a fairly decent person and still he can be awful.
The Dalai Lama talks all the time about compassion. It is only by imagining ourselves in another persons place that we can try to understand and have that compassion. When we were kids we'd ask the old man where he went to college and he would respond, "The school of hard knocks." He has kept most of his early life a secret, let out in dribs and drabs as he ages. It was hard to have any compassion for him before I knew the story of the orphan asylum. We only knew what we could see, and what we saw was violence and anger. Yet there would be glimpses of a loving heart at times. I've had compassion for the man who lost his wife and had three children to raise and compassion for the father who lost his twenty-one year old son. But I had no compassion for the way he was because I didn't understand how he got that way. Having that compassion makes it hard to stay mad at the stuff he says and does.
The medical intuitive Carolyn Myss says that there are entities we meet before birth with whom we make a sacred contract to achieve a goal in this life. I thought for quite a while that maybe the old man was here for me to learn forgiveness, but maybe I am here to help him end his life feeling safe and secure. (Either way, I still want to end it with him this incarnation.)
Today I took a drug test to prove that I am safe to hand out samples at Costco. (In fact I had to take three because I didn't give them enough the first two times. Not much pride in sitting in a waiting room for hours nursing cups of water.) I am excited to have a job. I hope I am good at it and don't lose my cool with the customers. As soon as they get back the criminal background check, I'll start my training. (Veggie chips? Right over here sir.)
Yesterday I had to take the old man to the dermatologist where they carved away a little more of his skin, this time on his arm. While we were in the car I told him about the job and the criminal check. I joked that those ten years at Leavenworth will look bad on my record. Then I asked him if he ever was in jail and he answered, "Sure." I asked what for and he told me because he had nowhere to stay. He was thirteen or fourteen. How many times? He thought maybe eight times. Then I asked him what happened, where did he go after jail? Did he find a place to stay? He went back to the streets and found a grate. My heart broke for that poor scared child. I never knew that.
He had a mother and a father, grandparents and cousins and no one to take him in. He wasn't a bad child, a thief or a criminal, just unwanted and overlooked. He is deeply flawed, and in his mind he did his best to keep his family together after my mother died. He provided a home and a step mother. He was a madman it is true. It was only when he was 90 and started taking antidepressants that he became a fairly decent person and still he can be awful.
The Dalai Lama talks all the time about compassion. It is only by imagining ourselves in another persons place that we can try to understand and have that compassion. When we were kids we'd ask the old man where he went to college and he would respond, "The school of hard knocks." He has kept most of his early life a secret, let out in dribs and drabs as he ages. It was hard to have any compassion for him before I knew the story of the orphan asylum. We only knew what we could see, and what we saw was violence and anger. Yet there would be glimpses of a loving heart at times. I've had compassion for the man who lost his wife and had three children to raise and compassion for the father who lost his twenty-one year old son. But I had no compassion for the way he was because I didn't understand how he got that way. Having that compassion makes it hard to stay mad at the stuff he says and does.
The medical intuitive Carolyn Myss says that there are entities we meet before birth with whom we make a sacred contract to achieve a goal in this life. I thought for quite a while that maybe the old man was here for me to learn forgiveness, but maybe I am here to help him end his life feeling safe and secure. (Either way, I still want to end it with him this incarnation.)
Monday, August 16, 2010
A Wake Up Call
I usually wake up quite early, feed the kitten and myself and go back to bed for a few hours. (Sounds tough, I know.) This morning I woke up for the second time on my knees by the bed holding my head. I had no idea how I got there or why I was seeing stars. It felt like I had smashed my head on a car door. The only thing I can figure out is that I must have fallen out of bed and hit the corner of the night table on my way down. I got a package of frozen food and put it on the lump and kept it there until my forehead was numb. The cold pack was probably a good move because what could have been a huge ugly bruise is only a slightly discolored lump and can be covered with hair.
I am calling this my wake up call to remind me to get up and enjoy the day I have been given and this precious life. I can sleep when I'm dead. I am also going to sleep more centrally in the middle of the bed.
Addendum: 8 AM, up, dressed, bed made, good breakfast, cat fed, litter box cleaned. No going back to bed today.
I am calling this my wake up call to remind me to get up and enjoy the day I have been given and this precious life. I can sleep when I'm dead. I am also going to sleep more centrally in the middle of the bed.
Addendum: 8 AM, up, dressed, bed made, good breakfast, cat fed, litter box cleaned. No going back to bed today.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
How I am doing
Since we only have this moment, I mean this one, not the one that just passed, no, no, this one... well you get the idea, I am doing fine, this moment. Beautiful breakfast of tuna salad made with wasabe mayonnaise and dill weed on caraway rye and very garlicky marinated cucumber salad. If people have pancakes for dinner, why not lunch for breakfast? It makes sense to me. (Sometimes I love being a grown-up.) I have had a lot of ups and downs these past two weeks, but since I only have this fleeting now, I choose to let those experiences go and focus on the positive now.
I am in a 16 week diabetes research study where I have to record all my numbers and now in the fifth week I am adjusting insulin to the data I submitted. It is a study for a new computer program that will advise dosages on a personal scale that goes according to blood glucose. It is hard to explain.
Furry little Piper is doing well. His abscess is gone and I don't think I have to give him any more antibiotic. He is full of beans and into everything. He is not an abandoned baby anymore but a cute and cuddly six week old growing every day. There has never been an ugly kitten, but gosh, he is so cute. If he hadn't fallen in my lap this way, I would have adopted an older cat. I forgot how much energy kittens take! He needs lots of playtime and has wrestled my arm and hand into submission. He gives little bites, but does not break skin. The one good thing about having neuropathy in my feet is he can chew toes and it doesn't hurt. He enjoys the computer, watching fingers fly and laying his head on the warm laptop. Sometimes he sleeps in a position that looks just like the tiger in Calvin and Hobbes. I had the opportunity to drive cross country with my daughter but what would I do with the kitten? Hmm, a complication I hadn't thought about. As my father would say, "Caught like a rat in a trap!" More like caught like a pet owner with a new pet.
I've applied for an $11. an hour part time job. I sure hope I am not overqualified. Why did I attach my resume? Knucklehead. I have also been in my pool almost every day this summer and have actually lost two whole pounds in the last month. Instead of looking at it as just a fraction of how much more I need to lose, I am looking at it as two pounds I didn't gain. There is perspective for you, clear thinking and positive outlook. Wouldn't you hire me?
The phone just rang! She will interview me on Tuesday at 1:30. Be still my heart!
I am in a 16 week diabetes research study where I have to record all my numbers and now in the fifth week I am adjusting insulin to the data I submitted. It is a study for a new computer program that will advise dosages on a personal scale that goes according to blood glucose. It is hard to explain.
Furry little Piper is doing well. His abscess is gone and I don't think I have to give him any more antibiotic. He is full of beans and into everything. He is not an abandoned baby anymore but a cute and cuddly six week old growing every day. There has never been an ugly kitten, but gosh, he is so cute. If he hadn't fallen in my lap this way, I would have adopted an older cat. I forgot how much energy kittens take! He needs lots of playtime and has wrestled my arm and hand into submission. He gives little bites, but does not break skin. The one good thing about having neuropathy in my feet is he can chew toes and it doesn't hurt. He enjoys the computer, watching fingers fly and laying his head on the warm laptop. Sometimes he sleeps in a position that looks just like the tiger in Calvin and Hobbes. I had the opportunity to drive cross country with my daughter but what would I do with the kitten? Hmm, a complication I hadn't thought about. As my father would say, "Caught like a rat in a trap!" More like caught like a pet owner with a new pet.
I've applied for an $11. an hour part time job. I sure hope I am not overqualified. Why did I attach my resume? Knucklehead. I have also been in my pool almost every day this summer and have actually lost two whole pounds in the last month. Instead of looking at it as just a fraction of how much more I need to lose, I am looking at it as two pounds I didn't gain. There is perspective for you, clear thinking and positive outlook. Wouldn't you hire me?
The phone just rang! She will interview me on Tuesday at 1:30. Be still my heart!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping again
First off, Baby Piper is doing just fine. The vet was able to drain his abscess and formulate a tick medicine for his weight. I've washed all the bedding again though I look awful with scabby bites all over my body. They wouldn't be so bad if I didn't scratch, so of course I scratch all the time. Time for Benadryl or it's generic equal and off to Walgreens.
Then to the Unique Thrift Store for some bargains. I love the Unique. You can find what you are looking for and other things not even on the radar. I didn't buy the dolls from the 50th anniversary of It's A Beautiful Life, or another glass bowl or stuffed dog. But I did get what I went there for, a Diaper Genie! I don't have an infant nor do I provide daycare, but I am cleaning out a catbox daily. This gets rid of the paper bag and the mess and smell. $3.95 well spent. I also got a standing lamp and shade, a like-new cat carrier and (drum roll please) a genuine Louis Vuitton handbag shaped like a bowling bag.
It is over $1,400.00 new, $500 used on eBay and mine for $5.95. It has a tiny tear on the lower piping and shows use on the inside, but I am jazzed. Will I keep it or give it away? If this is something your heart has been crying for, let me know. I truly believe that possessions find their owners.
Then to the Unique Thrift Store for some bargains. I love the Unique. You can find what you are looking for and other things not even on the radar. I didn't buy the dolls from the 50th anniversary of It's A Beautiful Life, or another glass bowl or stuffed dog. But I did get what I went there for, a Diaper Genie! I don't have an infant nor do I provide daycare, but I am cleaning out a catbox daily. This gets rid of the paper bag and the mess and smell. $3.95 well spent. I also got a standing lamp and shade, a like-new cat carrier and (drum roll please) a genuine Louis Vuitton handbag shaped like a bowling bag.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Lay down with kittens, wake up with fleas
We were lucky that our daughters never caught lice. Dumb luck since elementary schools are the place even the cleanest of kids get them. There was a time when my nephews and niece got lice and kept getting re-infested. Their mother had to wash all the bedding and all their clothes time and time again. What a job!
Right now he is running across the top of the couch and ducking down under the pillows in the corners. He is as cute as cute can be, fleas and all.
Dear Readers, if you have hints on how to deal with this pesky problem on a tiny kitty and a carpeted apartment, please let me know. Thanks!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Piper!
I don't know why people just throw animals out of car windows. Don't they know they can take them to the Humane Society, a no kill shelter? (Why do people put newborns in the garbage when any fire station or hospital will take the infant?)
My friend named her little girl Nefertiti. I looked at Egyptian names but thought since he was found in a pipe, he should be Piper. He has eaten a little sliced turkey, lapped at a little formula, and pooped in his sleeping box. Hopefully tomorrow he will use the litter box.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Thank you
To my daughters, thank you for making me a mother. It was the best job on earth and I am privileged to have watched you grow into wonderful women and the most decent of human beings.
To my son-in-law and his son, thanks for making me a mother-in-law and instant granny!
To my nieces and nephews, thank you for making me an auntie, and now a grauntie. It is wonderful to be a part of your life, be you near or far.
To my generous in-laws, thank you for helping me achieve independent living. My debt is immeasurable.
To my almost ex, thank you for going through much of life's adventure with me and not smothering me in my noisy thrashing sleep! Thanks for staying a friend.
To my sister, always there, and there always, thank you.
To the men and women sounding the sirens, thank you for being available to help those in crisis.
To the municipalities that provide clean water available twenty-four hours a day at the touch of a faucet, thanks.
To the growers, pickers, drivers and retailers in the supply chain of food, thank you for making life delicious.
To the hallway cleaners at the condo, thanks for all your efforts to keep my home beautiful.
To the teachers who taught me with passion, thank you.
To the taxpayers who funded my education, thank you. I will always remember the next generation.
To bosses who showed me respect, thank you and you have my respect.
To bosses who did not lead well, thank you for showing me what not to do.
To the administrators and aides who work with our seniors to keep them healthy and in their own homes, thanks.
To my old man, who makes demands, rarely says thank you, and doesn't appreciate what is done for him, thank you for being my father. Contrary to your example I have become a giving person who is learning patience and forgiveness. When your actions annoy me I have the opportunity to assess my reactions and see the direction I want to grow. Being with you and learning more about your life has made me more compassionate. It has shown me that each minute brings a choice, to be miserable and make life miserable for those around us, or live in light.
Call me Sunbeam.
To my son-in-law and his son, thanks for making me a mother-in-law and instant granny!
To my nieces and nephews, thank you for making me an auntie, and now a grauntie. It is wonderful to be a part of your life, be you near or far.
To my generous in-laws, thank you for helping me achieve independent living. My debt is immeasurable.
To my almost ex, thank you for going through much of life's adventure with me and not smothering me in my noisy thrashing sleep! Thanks for staying a friend.
To my sister, always there, and there always, thank you.
To the men and women sounding the sirens, thank you for being available to help those in crisis.
To the municipalities that provide clean water available twenty-four hours a day at the touch of a faucet, thanks.
To the growers, pickers, drivers and retailers in the supply chain of food, thank you for making life delicious.
To the hallway cleaners at the condo, thanks for all your efforts to keep my home beautiful.
To the teachers who taught me with passion, thank you.
To the taxpayers who funded my education, thank you. I will always remember the next generation.
To bosses who showed me respect, thank you and you have my respect.
To bosses who did not lead well, thank you for showing me what not to do.
To the administrators and aides who work with our seniors to keep them healthy and in their own homes, thanks.
To my old man, who makes demands, rarely says thank you, and doesn't appreciate what is done for him, thank you for being my father. Contrary to your example I have become a giving person who is learning patience and forgiveness. When your actions annoy me I have the opportunity to assess my reactions and see the direction I want to grow. Being with you and learning more about your life has made me more compassionate. It has shown me that each minute brings a choice, to be miserable and make life miserable for those around us, or live in light.
Call me Sunbeam.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thinking about kindness and compassion
On a daily basis, I try to be kind. I try to see the other's point of view (if I can look beyond my own). But how about compassion? A few examples; a dithery kind of nosey old lady came to my door to invite me to something happening in the building. I stood in the doorway and gave her the information. I did not invite her in, as I would most anyone. Was I unkind or just practical knowing it would be hard to get her to leave? A man from an online site contacted me that he was going to be in the area fairly regularly because he had a mother who lived here. It turns out that he is married and she does not know he contacts other women. Would I even meet him for a friendly lunch? No. I do not want to be part of another woman's unhappiness. Is it unkind not to make a new lunch pal? The practical part of me says, "Take care of you. Don't waste your time with people who are not of interest to you." But the part that looks over my shoulder says I could have been kinder. I play a non-monetary betting game on line and often let the person with the fewest points win. Talk about random acts of kindness! It would be impossible to be any more random.
Several years ago I was lucky enough to see the Dalai Lama in person when he came to Minnesota. One story he told was of his friend, a monk who spent 20 years in a Chinese prison. When asked about the hardest part he said it was keeping his compassion for the Chinese. I knew I was quite far from that high place.
I was one of the biggest anti-Bush people around. I could not watch him speak or look at his face. One year my nephews gave me a life size George W cutout for Christmas. I screamed and threw it on the floor after opening it. Then I jumped on the effigy. Too bad no one caught it on tape; that would have won the prize. Much to my surprise, at the Obama inauguration I felt real compassion for him as outgoing president and human being. No one wanted to shake his hand. He looked so sad and lost. He truly didn't understand that his game was over and no one wanted to play with him anymore. As his helicopter flew away, I felt a weight come off my shoulders. It would take years to fix the country he and his friends broke. But I did feel compassion for that sad man. I admit it will take more years, if ever, for me to forgive Rove, Cheney and that pack of thieves. Heck, I am still angry at the damage done by Reagan.
It is all bound up together, kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. I am not sure I can have one without the others. It is Monday, a good day for working on all three.
ADDENDUM:
A man made a date with me last week for lunch today. He stood me up, no call, text, or email until this afternoon when he sent me a fb message saying he had been in a meeting he could not get out of. OK, I told him all the alternatives he could have done and that he left me looking like a fool. I showed no compassion, kindness, or forgiveness. I am not really mad, but I wanted him to feel bad... I have such a far distance to go to be the person I want to be.
ADDENDUM 2:
I accepted a nice apology.
Several years ago I was lucky enough to see the Dalai Lama in person when he came to Minnesota. One story he told was of his friend, a monk who spent 20 years in a Chinese prison. When asked about the hardest part he said it was keeping his compassion for the Chinese. I knew I was quite far from that high place.
I was one of the biggest anti-Bush people around. I could not watch him speak or look at his face. One year my nephews gave me a life size George W cutout for Christmas. I screamed and threw it on the floor after opening it. Then I jumped on the effigy. Too bad no one caught it on tape; that would have won the prize. Much to my surprise, at the Obama inauguration I felt real compassion for him as outgoing president and human being. No one wanted to shake his hand. He looked so sad and lost. He truly didn't understand that his game was over and no one wanted to play with him anymore. As his helicopter flew away, I felt a weight come off my shoulders. It would take years to fix the country he and his friends broke. But I did feel compassion for that sad man. I admit it will take more years, if ever, for me to forgive Rove, Cheney and that pack of thieves. Heck, I am still angry at the damage done by Reagan.
It is all bound up together, kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. I am not sure I can have one without the others. It is Monday, a good day for working on all three.
ADDENDUM:
A man made a date with me last week for lunch today. He stood me up, no call, text, or email until this afternoon when he sent me a fb message saying he had been in a meeting he could not get out of. OK, I told him all the alternatives he could have done and that he left me looking like a fool. I showed no compassion, kindness, or forgiveness. I am not really mad, but I wanted him to feel bad... I have such a far distance to go to be the person I want to be.
ADDENDUM 2:
I accepted a nice apology.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Missing our mothers
Today on fb I reconnected with a friend from back in the day. It has to be well over 40 years since we had seen each other. We both lost our mothers at a young age. She wrote, "I was so young when she died, and have spent a good deal of time learning who I am based on that single event (and how it changed me)."
Oh my goodness. I was six and I remember only good things about my mother (and one time that she got mad at me for breaking a lamp) and the aspirations she had for me. She got me my first library card at four years old and I still read voraciously. I can still see the sun making the children's room at Grand Army Plaza golden. I learned to ride a bike because I remember my mother showing me a picture of college girls riding through the autumn leaves and telling me I would do that. None of that came to pass and when my father was most out of control I would often wonder how different my life would have been had she still lived.
My father is a man who cannot handle change, based on his own horrific upbringing and my mother kept him in check. He was left with and 11, 6 and 2 yr old. He remarried a woman ill prepared to cope with all of it about a year after my mother died.
When my eldest was six I went for grief counseling and the therapist told me it was natural for me to feel anger at the one who died. But I didn't because I knew deep in my soul that she NEVER wanted to leave me, never, never, never. I have had a rocky life with the old man and in 2005, I moved him and my stepmother from Bayview to assisted living in a suburb of Minneapolis. The crisis commuting was too much.
She is 96 and he is 95, married over 50 years; I have no doubt that I did the right thing even though they have taken five years of my life. Their declining years are peaceful, especially since the old man is on an anti-depressant. How I wish we could have got him on something years ago. What a change for the nicer, although he can still be a pain in the ass.
We will always miss our mothers. The old lady still misses her mother who died in 1969. I went to the cemetery back in 1996 and just howled with grief when I saw her headstone and quite alarmed my 19 year old daughter. The best I can do to honor her memory is live a good life, or a life of goodness. I have been so lucky to have had a wonderful mother-in-law and even though I am not married to her son any longer, she still considers me her daughter.
Oh my goodness. I was six and I remember only good things about my mother (and one time that she got mad at me for breaking a lamp) and the aspirations she had for me. She got me my first library card at four years old and I still read voraciously. I can still see the sun making the children's room at Grand Army Plaza golden. I learned to ride a bike because I remember my mother showing me a picture of college girls riding through the autumn leaves and telling me I would do that. None of that came to pass and when my father was most out of control I would often wonder how different my life would have been had she still lived.
My father is a man who cannot handle change, based on his own horrific upbringing and my mother kept him in check. He was left with and 11, 6 and 2 yr old. He remarried a woman ill prepared to cope with all of it about a year after my mother died.
When my eldest was six I went for grief counseling and the therapist told me it was natural for me to feel anger at the one who died. But I didn't because I knew deep in my soul that she NEVER wanted to leave me, never, never, never. I have had a rocky life with the old man and in 2005, I moved him and my stepmother from Bayview to assisted living in a suburb of Minneapolis. The crisis commuting was too much.
She is 96 and he is 95, married over 50 years; I have no doubt that I did the right thing even though they have taken five years of my life. Their declining years are peaceful, especially since the old man is on an anti-depressant. How I wish we could have got him on something years ago. What a change for the nicer, although he can still be a pain in the ass.
We will always miss our mothers. The old lady still misses her mother who died in 1969. I went to the cemetery back in 1996 and just howled with grief when I saw her headstone and quite alarmed my 19 year old daughter. The best I can do to honor her memory is live a good life, or a life of goodness. I have been so lucky to have had a wonderful mother-in-law and even though I am not married to her son any longer, she still considers me her daughter.
I look forward to a long life as a mother. I am learning to keep my mouth closed and treat my daughters as the strong women they are who don't need my advice. They just need my love and acceptance, which they have in bushels.
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