When I went to pick up the old lady for her doctor appointment today, the old man was dressed in his going to the clinic outfit. It is a dark velour tracksuit that he goes commando under. I told him it wasn't his appointment but he decided to go with us anyway. As luck would have it, he got to be seen for his itchy back too. "See? You don't know everything!" It is true they've written libraries about things I don't know.
Trying to give the old lady regular assessment tests is difficult. She is legally blind and only has peripheral vision, plus she is a functional illiterate. So spelling tests are always interesting. They asked her to count backwards from 100 by 7. My gosh, can you? Well her stress and anxiety level went through the roof. No! Do not give her math. The last time she had these kind of tests she was truly insulted. They asked her to name animals and she could only name a few. This time she was prepared; zebra, tiger, lion, elephant, cow, dog, cat, mouse, snake and whale! Ha ha! They wouldn't fool her again. But she could not remember a list of three words given at the beginning. The clock face she drew showed her poor vision. But the joy of getting things right was intense.
She had some blood drawn and a urinalysis. No infection anywhere. Dr S told us that by age 85 one in three people had Alzheimers, and by her age, 96, it went up to two out of three. Eventually, if you live long enough, you probably will get some form of it. So he felt she was in an early stage. Not to be confused with Early Onset Alzheimer Disease which can strike as young as 35. She does not want to take any medication for it, though. The old man got furious at that. Why not? He feels you should fight at all costs. She feels like when it is time to go, then go.
He, of course, for five years running complained about his back itching. Before we left the house I said it was the same old dry skin and he had two choices, die or itch. Turns out they are going to put him on a tiny bit of prednisone, a steroid. I joked that he didn't have to worry about his balls shrinking (they are almost halfway to his knees these days) and he said it didn't matter if they did shrink, they were no good anyway. Dr S was so funny as he explained those were completely different steroids. He was concerned because the old man is down to 130 pounds. The old lady is thrilled that she is down to 137. They have both shrunk in size and Dr S made her cane shorter which added to her comfort.
Then off to Byerly's for pancakes and eggs. They make their own sausage and his was about five inches long and as fat around as a hot dog. While waiting for him to finish I did some grocery shopping for them. Coca Cola and ice cream, the real essentials of life. When I came back he was yelling at her for not knowing something, to the discomfort of the other patrons. Oy vey is mir.
On the way back to their apartment the old lady commented on what a wonderful day it had been, just like a vacation. She really is losing it.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Be Kind
At Costco I saw an older woman standing behind her car in a handicapped space. She had big boxes in the cart and I asked if she needed a hand getting them into the car. She said no, her husband was coming. And here he came, a great big white haired man leaning heavily on his cane. I realized she still saw him as quite capable. She told him what I asked and said, "Isn't she kind? She is so kind."
What had I done? Nothing, as it turned out because he put their stuff in the back seat. I had only asked, yet she was stunned that someone had stopped to ask. Has kindness gone the way of the horse and buggy? Something to be hauled out and put on parade and put away all other times? Something the old lady says her mother used to say is that it costs no more to be nice.
I am talking beyond nice. Nice is a dime a dozen, nice is the cashier saying have a nice day. Kind isn't always nice. There is a song "Cruel to be Kind". I just listened to it and I'm not sure that I agree with all the sentiments. Nick Lowe sings "You have to be cruel to be kind in the right measure..." and that is true of all kindness; in the right measure. We kindly remove a child from danger even though the child is furious.
It isn't kind if your actions take away another's independence and strokes your own ego. Kindness is in the way you live. There is another word used a lot these days, mindfulness. Being mindful is in essence being kind to ourselves, our family, our community, our world. Being kind is trying to live in way that doesn't intentionally hurt others. Being kind does not mean being a doormat, not at all.
The one thing that attracted me to my husband and his family are their innate kindnesses. It was a wonderful treat to be with people who are kind. They are not saints, and have their own mishegass (Yiddish word meaning quirks and craziness) but are kind, whether opening their home to mother from Chile whose child was in the U of M hospital, to opening their hearts to a Jewish girl from Brooklyn.
Kindness, mindfulness is not a destination. It is the daily journey, with diversions along the way. It is a road to keep coming back to. At the end I want this on my headstone: She tried to be kind.
Let's all try, let's all do. I want kindness to be as ubiquitous as the auto, always there, not a buggy hauled out for a parade.
What had I done? Nothing, as it turned out because he put their stuff in the back seat. I had only asked, yet she was stunned that someone had stopped to ask. Has kindness gone the way of the horse and buggy? Something to be hauled out and put on parade and put away all other times? Something the old lady says her mother used to say is that it costs no more to be nice.
I am talking beyond nice. Nice is a dime a dozen, nice is the cashier saying have a nice day. Kind isn't always nice. There is a song "Cruel to be Kind". I just listened to it and I'm not sure that I agree with all the sentiments. Nick Lowe sings "You have to be cruel to be kind in the right measure..." and that is true of all kindness; in the right measure. We kindly remove a child from danger even though the child is furious.
It isn't kind if your actions take away another's independence and strokes your own ego. Kindness is in the way you live. There is another word used a lot these days, mindfulness. Being mindful is in essence being kind to ourselves, our family, our community, our world. Being kind is trying to live in way that doesn't intentionally hurt others. Being kind does not mean being a doormat, not at all.
The one thing that attracted me to my husband and his family are their innate kindnesses. It was a wonderful treat to be with people who are kind. They are not saints, and have their own mishegass (Yiddish word meaning quirks and craziness) but are kind, whether opening their home to mother from Chile whose child was in the U of M hospital, to opening their hearts to a Jewish girl from Brooklyn.
Kindness, mindfulness is not a destination. It is the daily journey, with diversions along the way. It is a road to keep coming back to. At the end I want this on my headstone: She tried to be kind.
Let's all try, let's all do. I want kindness to be as ubiquitous as the auto, always there, not a buggy hauled out for a parade.
She is losing it
On the way to New Jersey this month, the old lady, 96, kept asking me to tell her what we were doing that evening. After the fifth time I told her that Bob was picking us up and Iris was making dinner I said, "Mom, don't get senile on me now."
My step-mother Harriet is smart without being educated. She memorized the reader before she entered first grade. When called to recite, she was word perfect although she couldn't read. In a class with 60 children she was passed on to the next grade where they found out she couldn't read and put her back. She hated school and left at age fifteen to become a hairdresser. She still does her own hair, although I color it. She has been legally blind for years. She learned to cope by feeling the food she was cooking. And until recently, she could still design and knit or crochet her own clothing. I taught her to read a pattern about 35 years ago and she made the most amazing creations. Even with her awful eyesight she can still do nicer crafts than the other ladies at her building.
One thing that drives us all batty is that she never forgets. She remembers the dress her mother made her for a show when she was in grade school. She remembers something I said at eight years old and she remembers every slight and every compliment ever given. But now she is losing her short term memory and I am wondering how to deal with it.
We went out to a Chez Daniel in the Embassy Suites on Saturday. They make a really wonderful rack of lamb that they enjoy very much. In between the soup and the entree they serve a little ball of sorbet to cleanse the palate. The old lady loves it and finished it in a trice. After our dinner plates were taken away she asked where the ice cream was. I said, "You mean the little scoop of sorbet? We already had it." We talked about it for awhile and then the server brought us chocolate covered strawberries. She asked why we hadn't had the ice cream. I told her we already ate it. I said, "Mom, do you remember we just talked about it?" No, she didn't.
My parents do not sugarcoat reality. In fact the old man scrapes away any sugar that might make life sweeter. I said I was concerned about her memory and I hope it wasn't the beginning of the end. She said she'd had a good run.
The thing about short term memory loss is that it is so very frustrating for the people around it. The one whose memory is failing doesn't remember that she asked that same question or told that same story many times in a short period. It is hard to keep patience with her. I'm not an awfully patient person to begin with and self centered repetition drives me crazy. (As my ex used to say, "And for you it is a very short drive.")
Tomorrow I will call the gerontologist and leave a message. I am not sure whether this is the start of something worse or what but her doctor should know. She is a frail old lady with a grip of iron and a zest for life. If she dies before my old man I will have no choice but to place him in long term care. It won't be long term though. He will fade away without her.
Here is the great Jimmy Durante singing September Song:
"As the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November, December,
These precious days I'll spend with you"
Updated wonderfully for your enjoyment, the great Lou Reed sings September Song. The picture is of Kurt Weill.
My step-mother Harriet is smart without being educated. She memorized the reader before she entered first grade. When called to recite, she was word perfect although she couldn't read. In a class with 60 children she was passed on to the next grade where they found out she couldn't read and put her back. She hated school and left at age fifteen to become a hairdresser. She still does her own hair, although I color it. She has been legally blind for years. She learned to cope by feeling the food she was cooking. And until recently, she could still design and knit or crochet her own clothing. I taught her to read a pattern about 35 years ago and she made the most amazing creations. Even with her awful eyesight she can still do nicer crafts than the other ladies at her building.
One thing that drives us all batty is that she never forgets. She remembers the dress her mother made her for a show when she was in grade school. She remembers something I said at eight years old and she remembers every slight and every compliment ever given. But now she is losing her short term memory and I am wondering how to deal with it.
We went out to a Chez Daniel in the Embassy Suites on Saturday. They make a really wonderful rack of lamb that they enjoy very much. In between the soup and the entree they serve a little ball of sorbet to cleanse the palate. The old lady loves it and finished it in a trice. After our dinner plates were taken away she asked where the ice cream was. I said, "You mean the little scoop of sorbet? We already had it." We talked about it for awhile and then the server brought us chocolate covered strawberries. She asked why we hadn't had the ice cream. I told her we already ate it. I said, "Mom, do you remember we just talked about it?" No, she didn't.
My parents do not sugarcoat reality. In fact the old man scrapes away any sugar that might make life sweeter. I said I was concerned about her memory and I hope it wasn't the beginning of the end. She said she'd had a good run.
The thing about short term memory loss is that it is so very frustrating for the people around it. The one whose memory is failing doesn't remember that she asked that same question or told that same story many times in a short period. It is hard to keep patience with her. I'm not an awfully patient person to begin with and self centered repetition drives me crazy. (As my ex used to say, "And for you it is a very short drive.")
Tomorrow I will call the gerontologist and leave a message. I am not sure whether this is the start of something worse or what but her doctor should know. She is a frail old lady with a grip of iron and a zest for life. If she dies before my old man I will have no choice but to place him in long term care. It won't be long term though. He will fade away without her.
Here is the great Jimmy Durante singing September Song:
"As the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November, December,
These precious days I'll spend with you"
Updated wonderfully for your enjoyment, the great Lou Reed sings September Song. The picture is of Kurt Weill.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Just answer the question!
Me: What time do you want me to come over?
Friend: What time do you want to come over?
Me: You are the one making dinner, what time should I come?
Friend: Well what time do you want to come?
Me: You are the one doing the inviting, just tell me what time I should arrive.
Friend: Anytime you want.
Me: What, 5 or 6 or 8?
Friend: How about 5:30?
Me: Fine, see you then.
Why is it so damn hard to get a direct answer to a direct question? Frankly, that is an abridged conversation above. It would have been too boring to have transcribed it if I could have remembered it all. At this point, my stomach is all clenched and I don't even want to go to dinner. Is it just this question? No, of course not. It is that whole way of not communicating.
Please, I beg of you, even if it will hurt my feelings, just answer the question, whether it be big like "Do you want to stay married?" or small like the time to arrive for dinner. Don't make me work for the answer. I just can't play that game, not ten years ago and not now.
Friend: What time do you want to come over?
Me: You are the one making dinner, what time should I come?
Friend: Well what time do you want to come?
Me: You are the one doing the inviting, just tell me what time I should arrive.
Friend: Anytime you want.
Me: What, 5 or 6 or 8?
Friend: How about 5:30?
Me: Fine, see you then.
Why is it so damn hard to get a direct answer to a direct question? Frankly, that is an abridged conversation above. It would have been too boring to have transcribed it if I could have remembered it all. At this point, my stomach is all clenched and I don't even want to go to dinner. Is it just this question? No, of course not. It is that whole way of not communicating.
Please, I beg of you, even if it will hurt my feelings, just answer the question, whether it be big like "Do you want to stay married?" or small like the time to arrive for dinner. Don't make me work for the answer. I just can't play that game, not ten years ago and not now.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Double Feature
Most of the people on this site probably never experienced an old fashioned double feature. First a cartoon, then a movie, then another movie, all for one price. Well I couldn't get the cartoon tonight but I certainly enjoyed a first class double feature. I went to the cheap theater in Hopkins and saw two Academy Award nominees. Well worth the $3.00!
The Blind Side is a really lovely film about a big homeless boy and the family that takes him in and helps him along in his future. It was based on the book written by the woman of the family, played by Sandra Bullock. It was a wonderful cast including a really precocious little boy and Tim McGraw as the father of the family. I am sure there were many altercations within the family but I wasn't bothered by seeing rich people in love living a generous life. The football was well choreographed and fun to watch.
I followed it up by walking, not sneaking, not sneaking at all, into Invictus. I am so impressed by Clint Eastwood's projects. Taking on a film about Nelson Mandela and the 1995 Rugby World Championship is taking a risk. Matt Damon was very good as the thoughtful team captain. Morgan Freeman was terrific as Nelson Mandela, who is one of my personal heroes. The graciousness and humbleness of this man was inspiring. If he can forgive his captors and do what is right for his very damaged country, then I can take a lesson.
The best part for me was at the end of each film, during the credits they showed photographs of the real Michael Oher and the Tuohy family. Real pictures of Nelson Mandela and the South African Rugby team, The Springboks. Of course some dramatization took place for the sake of the story, but real people inspired them. One changed a boy and family's life, and the other changed a nation. I walked out of the theater inspired and would recommend either or both to anyone.
The Blind Side is a really lovely film about a big homeless boy and the family that takes him in and helps him along in his future. It was based on the book written by the woman of the family, played by Sandra Bullock. It was a wonderful cast including a really precocious little boy and Tim McGraw as the father of the family. I am sure there were many altercations within the family but I wasn't bothered by seeing rich people in love living a generous life. The football was well choreographed and fun to watch.
I followed it up by walking, not sneaking, not sneaking at all, into Invictus. I am so impressed by Clint Eastwood's projects. Taking on a film about Nelson Mandela and the 1995 Rugby World Championship is taking a risk. Matt Damon was very good as the thoughtful team captain. Morgan Freeman was terrific as Nelson Mandela, who is one of my personal heroes. The graciousness and humbleness of this man was inspiring. If he can forgive his captors and do what is right for his very damaged country, then I can take a lesson.
The best part for me was at the end of each film, during the credits they showed photographs of the real Michael Oher and the Tuohy family. Real pictures of Nelson Mandela and the South African Rugby team, The Springboks. Of course some dramatization took place for the sake of the story, but real people inspired them. One changed a boy and family's life, and the other changed a nation. I walked out of the theater inspired and would recommend either or both to anyone.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Nice work if you can get it
Twenty months after returning from Kuwait my daughter finally has a job. During this time of unemployment she married a man who works twenty-seven hours a week for a large corporation that has promised him full time as soon as the hiring freeze is over. She came home with twenty-three thousand dollars in savings. Needless to say it is all gone and by last summer they were six thousand dollars in debt. A bond that was bought when she was a baby by my parents came due and they got out of debt and bought a few Christmas presents.
They pay two thirds of their income for rent. I slip her money when I see her and make care packages. I fill her gas tank so she can visit. They turn down invitations because it will cost too much in gas. Every outing is figured in terms of mileage. For my birthday I gave her a rebate check so she could buy me a gift. It wasn't that I needed anything, she just needed to be able to buy me something.
So what is this job? She will be working as a security guard at a beauty college. Four days a week her hours are from 5:30 to 9:30 AM and Friday and Saturday From 3 to 11 PM. She has Sunday off. That is right, working six days a week for thirty-six hours at $11.00 an hour. This is not a sitting at a desk security position, this is a roaming on your feet being a presence.
Her husband suggested she could go to college in the afternoon and I mentioned it gave her time to look for something else. She burst into tears and said, "Let me at least start working before you tell me I can do better!" This period of unemployment has been hard on this highly intelligent woman. I am sorry I was insensitive and forgot that all work has dignity.
So good luck darling, you are a wonderful human being and always a success in my eyes.
They pay two thirds of their income for rent. I slip her money when I see her and make care packages. I fill her gas tank so she can visit. They turn down invitations because it will cost too much in gas. Every outing is figured in terms of mileage. For my birthday I gave her a rebate check so she could buy me a gift. It wasn't that I needed anything, she just needed to be able to buy me something.
So what is this job? She will be working as a security guard at a beauty college. Four days a week her hours are from 5:30 to 9:30 AM and Friday and Saturday From 3 to 11 PM. She has Sunday off. That is right, working six days a week for thirty-six hours at $11.00 an hour. This is not a sitting at a desk security position, this is a roaming on your feet being a presence.
Her husband suggested she could go to college in the afternoon and I mentioned it gave her time to look for something else. She burst into tears and said, "Let me at least start working before you tell me I can do better!" This period of unemployment has been hard on this highly intelligent woman. I am sorry I was insensitive and forgot that all work has dignity.
So good luck darling, you are a wonderful human being and always a success in my eyes.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
At the Jersey Shore
Last Thursday, my daughter and I took my parents out to New Jersey for the wedding of a beloved niece's daughter. It took place in the area of the state known as the Jersey Shore. When some guests found out Eri was from Minnesota they started making "Fargo" noises. She quietly explained that comparing Minnesotans to the movie Fargo was like comparing them to "The Jersey Shore". Boy did that get a reaction.
I had last been in this area as a teenager. It has changed so much from a sort of sleazy, sort of nowhere resort area to lovely redeveloped coastal towns full of nice restaurants and upscale condos. The old cottages have largely disappeared, at least in the areas I saw. The friend who took us out for lunch one day did point out that, as in many areas, the low income people have been pushed out as their housing was razed for development. This is not a new story and takes place everywhere from San Francisco to Philadelphia.
What has not changed, though, is the ocean. Wild and grey with rain, it called to me as we ate our lunch in a waterfront restaurant. I love my friend and her son was as beautiful as a model, but they could not keep my attention from the windows and the grandeur outside. The old lady has a friend from the East at her senior building. They both agree that lakes are nice, but there is something about the ocean that is so much more; it is the smell of the salt and they miss it. (of course I had to be a smart ass and say I would mix some salt water, add cat food and run a fan by it.)
It rained and rained and rained the entire time we were there and I have heard it is still raining. In honor of the stoic and classy New Jersians here is a silly version of the song about raining for 40 days and nights.
I had last been in this area as a teenager. It has changed so much from a sort of sleazy, sort of nowhere resort area to lovely redeveloped coastal towns full of nice restaurants and upscale condos. The old cottages have largely disappeared, at least in the areas I saw. The friend who took us out for lunch one day did point out that, as in many areas, the low income people have been pushed out as their housing was razed for development. This is not a new story and takes place everywhere from San Francisco to Philadelphia.
What has not changed, though, is the ocean. Wild and grey with rain, it called to me as we ate our lunch in a waterfront restaurant. I love my friend and her son was as beautiful as a model, but they could not keep my attention from the windows and the grandeur outside. The old lady has a friend from the East at her senior building. They both agree that lakes are nice, but there is something about the ocean that is so much more; it is the smell of the salt and they miss it. (of course I had to be a smart ass and say I would mix some salt water, add cat food and run a fan by it.)
It rained and rained and rained the entire time we were there and I have heard it is still raining. In honor of the stoic and classy New Jersians here is a silly version of the song about raining for 40 days and nights.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sucking the life
As time goes by I will be debriefing the trip to NJ with the thousand year old parents but for now, just things I have been thinking about.
It was kind of hard being in a hotel without power on Saturday night and Sunday morning. My daughter Eri and I took them slowly up the steps to our rooms on the second floor and undressed them by flashlight. Somehow we managed. But as I was running around on Sunday morning trying to get them to brunch and back to our rooms to pack someone asked me how I was doing. I said, "They are sucking the life out of me."
I started thinking about it. Why the hell shouldn't they suck the life out of me if they were using and enjoying that energy and I wasn't? Why shouldn't the ones that appreciate the life force get it anyway they can get it? I certainly wasn't enjoying my life and wishing the incidents over. I was wishing the precious time I have away.
The medical mystic Caroline Myss, says that there are some people who are energy vampires. They get their energy from others and don't give any back. They take and take and if you are not vigilant, they will drain your very life's energy. My parents can be that way.
When I am feeling good, feeling alive and in tune with the wonder of Creation, I am easy to get along with and don't mind what I have to do for the old folks. I can laugh it off. At that time I become a conduit for energy. The more I give, the more I get. But let stress, tension, resentments, worry, and negative energy of any kind take hold and I get blocked up. Spiritually constipated would describe it. Then the good energy drains and I have nothing to replenish it with. Then the vampires can drain me dry.
To help unblock the stoppage, I am doing a few things. I erased hurtful, and loving messages from my phone. All text messages are gone. The next part is a little harder. Holding on to resentments and bad thoughts are comfortable in an uncomfortable way, if you know what I mean. I release all negative thoughts and resentments. I empty myself of negative energy so to be receptive to the love that wants to manifest and fill me. It is always there, just waiting for me to be open.
It was kind of hard being in a hotel without power on Saturday night and Sunday morning. My daughter Eri and I took them slowly up the steps to our rooms on the second floor and undressed them by flashlight. Somehow we managed. But as I was running around on Sunday morning trying to get them to brunch and back to our rooms to pack someone asked me how I was doing. I said, "They are sucking the life out of me."
I started thinking about it. Why the hell shouldn't they suck the life out of me if they were using and enjoying that energy and I wasn't? Why shouldn't the ones that appreciate the life force get it anyway they can get it? I certainly wasn't enjoying my life and wishing the incidents over. I was wishing the precious time I have away.
The medical mystic Caroline Myss, says that there are some people who are energy vampires. They get their energy from others and don't give any back. They take and take and if you are not vigilant, they will drain your very life's energy. My parents can be that way.
When I am feeling good, feeling alive and in tune with the wonder of Creation, I am easy to get along with and don't mind what I have to do for the old folks. I can laugh it off. At that time I become a conduit for energy. The more I give, the more I get. But let stress, tension, resentments, worry, and negative energy of any kind take hold and I get blocked up. Spiritually constipated would describe it. Then the good energy drains and I have nothing to replenish it with. Then the vampires can drain me dry.
To help unblock the stoppage, I am doing a few things. I erased hurtful, and loving messages from my phone. All text messages are gone. The next part is a little harder. Holding on to resentments and bad thoughts are comfortable in an uncomfortable way, if you know what I mean. I release all negative thoughts and resentments. I empty myself of negative energy so to be receptive to the love that wants to manifest and fill me. It is always there, just waiting for me to be open.
Friday, March 12, 2010
And we're off!
Getting in a last little blog before picking up the folks for the trip to New Jersey. Whee!
Here is our itinerary:
Thursday:
E and J pick me up at 10:30
Pick up parents at 11:00
Get to airport by 11:30
Getting 94 and 96 year olds through security and to gate, infinity
Get to NJ at 5
Get picked up by cousin B
Dinner at B & I's house
Hotel.
Friday:
Parents rest up for rehearsal dinner
E and I meet my best friend of 54 years!
Rehearsal dinner
Saturday:
Brunch with other cousins
E and I go to church ceremony
Parents rest up for reception
Reception from 5-10:30, good chance parents have to leave early.
Sunday:
I pack them up
We have family brunch
Back to Newark Airport
Back to Minneapolis by 4
Drop them home
Come home and turn on computer.
Hope someone cool is on booty call.
Blog about trip.
Sidney and Harriet go to a wedding, Carol keeps her cool and has funny, I hope, stories to tell.
Here is our itinerary:
Thursday:
E and J pick me up at 10:30
Pick up parents at 11:00
Get to airport by 11:30
Getting 94 and 96 year olds through security and to gate, infinity
Get to NJ at 5
Get picked up by cousin B
Dinner at B & I's house
Hotel.
Friday:
Parents rest up for rehearsal dinner
E and I meet my best friend of 54 years!
Rehearsal dinner
Saturday:
Brunch with other cousins
E and I go to church ceremony
Parents rest up for reception
Reception from 5-10:30, good chance parents have to leave early.
Sunday:
I pack them up
We have family brunch
Back to Newark Airport
Back to Minneapolis by 4
Drop them home
Come home and turn on computer.
Hope someone cool is on booty call.
Blog about trip.
Sidney and Harriet go to a wedding, Carol keeps her cool and has funny, I hope, stories to tell.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Gearing Up
We are starting to gear up for the big trip to New Jersey.
A wonderful cousin's daughter is marrying on Saturday and my parents are so excited! This wedding is the highlight of their year and I think it may be the one thing getting them through this rotten winter. Frankly, when I heard about it last spring, I never thought they would be able to go.
They are so excited. Tomorrow I have to take the old man to the barber shop. He is going to have "the works". Haircut, hair on ears cut, eyebrow trim, and shave. For over fifty years the old lady (96) has been cutting the old man's hair. He is almost 95 and still has a full head of thin white hair. The old lady started working in beauty and barber shops 80!, yes 80 years ago at age 16. She is very propriatorey about letting anyone else cut his hair. It doesn't matter that she is legally blind, and cuts by feel. She has to sit down between each cut.
I put color in her hair on Sunday. She is now flaming strawberry blond and she will give herself a trim today or tomorrow. She likes to do her hair like Barbara Walters. Good thing she can't see very well, otherwise she would see it looks NOTHING like Barbara Walters. I will pack for them on Wednesday.
This is not an easy trip and my younger daughter is coming along to help. This is not a vacation for me; so why am I doing it? Because they want to go so very much. It is good for me to take on a challenge and see if I can do this with humor and love. They were so frail and sick when I moved them from NY, and now they are frail and forgetful, but full of anticipation for a party. The old lady is looking forward to being the matriarch and the old man is looking forward to wearing his pretty suit and shiny shoes.
I try to live by the Golden Rule and do unto others as I would have others do unto me. If it is true that what goes around comes around, I will be loved and cared for in my old age, whether I deserve it or not. I pray I am worthy.
A wonderful cousin's daughter is marrying on Saturday and my parents are so excited! This wedding is the highlight of their year and I think it may be the one thing getting them through this rotten winter. Frankly, when I heard about it last spring, I never thought they would be able to go.
They are so excited. Tomorrow I have to take the old man to the barber shop. He is going to have "the works". Haircut, hair on ears cut, eyebrow trim, and shave. For over fifty years the old lady (96) has been cutting the old man's hair. He is almost 95 and still has a full head of thin white hair. The old lady started working in beauty and barber shops 80!, yes 80 years ago at age 16. She is very propriatorey about letting anyone else cut his hair. It doesn't matter that she is legally blind, and cuts by feel. She has to sit down between each cut.
I put color in her hair on Sunday. She is now flaming strawberry blond and she will give herself a trim today or tomorrow. She likes to do her hair like Barbara Walters. Good thing she can't see very well, otherwise she would see it looks NOTHING like Barbara Walters. I will pack for them on Wednesday.
This is not an easy trip and my younger daughter is coming along to help. This is not a vacation for me; so why am I doing it? Because they want to go so very much. It is good for me to take on a challenge and see if I can do this with humor and love. They were so frail and sick when I moved them from NY, and now they are frail and forgetful, but full of anticipation for a party. The old lady is looking forward to being the matriarch and the old man is looking forward to wearing his pretty suit and shiny shoes.
I try to live by the Golden Rule and do unto others as I would have others do unto me. If it is true that what goes around comes around, I will be loved and cared for in my old age, whether I deserve it or not. I pray I am worthy.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
My daughter in Argentina
My daughter, my thirty-two year old baby girl, is working in the Mendoza wine region of Argentina, right over the mountains from Chile. She sent out this email to the family:
"Well, I am sure you all heard about the earthquake... I sure did feel it this morning - it shook me awake, and then kept shaking. Apparently Chile loses an average of 1 cm every year... they might have lost just a bit more this time. I haven´t heard anything exactly, yet but I think, from my limited experience with earthquakes, that over here it was at least 4.5 to 5. The lights were swaying and car alarms were going off. In town, they were evacuating the hospitals. We felt the big after shock, but then the unrelated 6.0 in Northern Argentina, I didn´t feel at all. The major bummer here is that my roommate worked in a town not 50 km from the epicenter last year and he is having a hell of a time getting any information about anyone. Also, just happens to be a major wine region and I can´t imagine what it has done to the wineries. But, no worries here. Everyone is fine." She is in the little town of Mendoza, in the upper right hand corner of the map. It was actually measured at 8.8
map of earthquake and Mendoza
There has been pretty bad destruction of the older parts of some of the towns and some loss of life, but not on the scale of Haiti. There hundred of thousands of the worlds poorest people died in one blow. Here, in a developed economy, things are bad, but not catastrophic to the same degree. They have resources for rebuilding and their President says not to send aid until they ask for specific aid.
The good news is that it is not worse and the better news is that fears for a Tsunami have been down graded. Here is a good link.
Earthquake overview
Thank you to the friends who have inquired about my daughter.
"Well, I am sure you all heard about the earthquake... I sure did feel it this morning - it shook me awake, and then kept shaking. Apparently Chile loses an average of 1 cm every year... they might have lost just a bit more this time. I haven´t heard anything exactly, yet but I think, from my limited experience with earthquakes, that over here it was at least 4.5 to 5. The lights were swaying and car alarms were going off. In town, they were evacuating the hospitals. We felt the big after shock, but then the unrelated 6.0 in Northern Argentina, I didn´t feel at all. The major bummer here is that my roommate worked in a town not 50 km from the epicenter last year and he is having a hell of a time getting any information about anyone. Also, just happens to be a major wine region and I can´t imagine what it has done to the wineries. But, no worries here. Everyone is fine." She is in the little town of Mendoza, in the upper right hand corner of the map. It was actually measured at 8.8
map of earthquake and Mendoza
There has been pretty bad destruction of the older parts of some of the towns and some loss of life, but not on the scale of Haiti. There hundred of thousands of the worlds poorest people died in one blow. Here, in a developed economy, things are bad, but not catastrophic to the same degree. They have resources for rebuilding and their President says not to send aid until they ask for specific aid.
The good news is that it is not worse and the better news is that fears for a Tsunami have been down graded. Here is a good link.
Earthquake overview
Thank you to the friends who have inquired about my daughter.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
The right to privacy
So much has been written and discussed about Tiger Woods. Personally, I don't care who he has been cheating with. It does not affect me in any way but one. I am tired of having his life and problems foisted on my consciousness. Aside from living in a cave, one cannot avoid it. I feel strongly that our right to privacy has been compromised.
If I ran for office and they asked me about my religion I would say that my spiritual life is private. If anyone were to bring up my sexual life, I would tell them it is none of their business, it is private. And if anyone wants to make me think that some celebrity's sex life is news, I want to be able to invoke my right to privacy from hearing about it.
You might or might not know that the reason abortion is legal is broadly based on the right of woman to have privacy to do what she wants to her body.
The most frequently quoted statement by a Supreme Court justice on the subject of privacy comes in Justice Brandeis's dissent in Olmstead v. U. S. (1928):
"The makers of our Constitution understood the need to secure conditions favorable to the pursuit of happiness, and the protections guaranteed by this are much broader in scope, and include the right to life and an inviolate personality -- the right to be left alone -- the most comprehensive of rights and the right most valued by civilized men. The principle underlying the Fourth and Fifth Amendments is protection against invasions of the sanctities of a man's home and privacies of life. This is a recognition of the significance of man's spiritual nature, his feelings, and his intellect."
Why do I carry on about privacy when I write about my own life? Not very private at all. It is my choice. You choose to read about it. I don't choose to read about Tiger. Why doesn't he get the right to privacy? Why doesn't his wife and children? I do not believe I have the right to know the details of anyone's life for my gratuitous interest.
Do I need to know if someone is a murderer before I hire them to care for my aged parents? Yes. Do I need to know how many people he slept with before murdering his mother? There are some things we need to know, but there are other things that can remain private.
I am not a lawyer or a constitutional expert, this is just my opinion on privacy, mine and yours and Tiger's.
If I ran for office and they asked me about my religion I would say that my spiritual life is private. If anyone were to bring up my sexual life, I would tell them it is none of their business, it is private. And if anyone wants to make me think that some celebrity's sex life is news, I want to be able to invoke my right to privacy from hearing about it.
You might or might not know that the reason abortion is legal is broadly based on the right of woman to have privacy to do what she wants to her body.
The most frequently quoted statement by a Supreme Court justice on the subject of privacy comes in Justice Brandeis's dissent in Olmstead v. U. S. (1928):
"The makers of our Constitution understood the need to secure conditions favorable to the pursuit of happiness, and the protections guaranteed by this are much broader in scope, and include the right to life and an inviolate personality -- the right to be left alone -- the most comprehensive of rights and the right most valued by civilized men. The principle underlying the Fourth and Fifth Amendments is protection against invasions of the sanctities of a man's home and privacies of life. This is a recognition of the significance of man's spiritual nature, his feelings, and his intellect."
Why do I carry on about privacy when I write about my own life? Not very private at all. It is my choice. You choose to read about it. I don't choose to read about Tiger. Why doesn't he get the right to privacy? Why doesn't his wife and children? I do not believe I have the right to know the details of anyone's life for my gratuitous interest.
Do I need to know if someone is a murderer before I hire them to care for my aged parents? Yes. Do I need to know how many people he slept with before murdering his mother? There are some things we need to know, but there are other things that can remain private.
I am not a lawyer or a constitutional expert, this is just my opinion on privacy, mine and yours and Tiger's.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The language of love
"Of the countless ways we can show love to one another, five key categories, or five love languages, proved to be universal and comprehensive—everyone has a love language, and we all identify primarily with one of the five love languages: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch."
- From The 5 Love Languages by Dr Gary Chapman
I woke up feeling wonderful this morning and wondered why. Then I remembered; I was loved.
I have two wonderful daughters, one shows love by the very thoughtful gifts she gives. She hears what I say and thinks about what to give me. It is not easy because I am very hard to gift. But she will find me the blanket, or little bedside light that are just right. She bought me a small quiet fan that I enjoy all summer. Unfortunately, I am not as good a gift giver. I don't always discern what is desired.
My other daughter gave me a most appreciated gift yesterday. She gave me a gift of service. She came to my home and colored my hair and then gave me a pedicure. She worked so gently on my feet, sitting on the floor which was not very comfortable for her. We talked and laughed and watched the Olympics. Afterwards I made her a grilled cheese sandwich which she said was very delicious. I had one too, and I can tell you it was just muenster cheese on whole grain bread. What she found delicious was the love with which it was made. She was eating love. There are so many jokes about mothers pushing food on family and what is not understood is that we are just showing love.
To one degree or another I give words of affirmation, and loving touch, and the gift of quality time. But what is easiest for me to give and understand is the language of service as love.
- From The 5 Love Languages by Dr Gary Chapman
I woke up feeling wonderful this morning and wondered why. Then I remembered; I was loved.
I have two wonderful daughters, one shows love by the very thoughtful gifts she gives. She hears what I say and thinks about what to give me. It is not easy because I am very hard to gift. But she will find me the blanket, or little bedside light that are just right. She bought me a small quiet fan that I enjoy all summer. Unfortunately, I am not as good a gift giver. I don't always discern what is desired.
My other daughter gave me a most appreciated gift yesterday. She gave me a gift of service. She came to my home and colored my hair and then gave me a pedicure. She worked so gently on my feet, sitting on the floor which was not very comfortable for her. We talked and laughed and watched the Olympics. Afterwards I made her a grilled cheese sandwich which she said was very delicious. I had one too, and I can tell you it was just muenster cheese on whole grain bread. What she found delicious was the love with which it was made. She was eating love. There are so many jokes about mothers pushing food on family and what is not understood is that we are just showing love.
To one degree or another I give words of affirmation, and loving touch, and the gift of quality time. But what is easiest for me to give and understand is the language of service as love.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
"Point a finger
... and three come back at you."
It is a cliche' that I find to be true. Another one is "Wherever you go, there you are."
So here I am, in my own little place, looking to assign blame, but I can't. Point that finger and here I am in a heaven or hell of my own making. What will it be? When will I understand that it is my effort that reveals Grace in my life?
Right now, intellectually, I understand that I AM light. But there is a tightness around my heart that is keeping me in the dark.
I am the Founder and President of the Procrastinators Club. I've had therapy, I've had past lives read. I had negative forces that were holding me back purged. And yet ... I put things off. I've prayed, I've sprung up and attacked tasks.
The thing about presenting a strong persona to the world is that no one knows how much help I need. Maybe it was losing my mother at a young age and being raised by clueless parents. Maybe it is the depression. And maybe it is just being bloody lazy. I don't know. But I do know that all the fingers are pointing in my direction and I cannot run because here I am.
Is this the right place to share dark moments of the soul? Probably not. Should you worry? No.
"Is there any remover of difficulty save God? Say Praise Be God, He is God! All are His servants and all abide by His bidding!" Baha'i prayer.
It is a cliche' that I find to be true. Another one is "Wherever you go, there you are."
So here I am, in my own little place, looking to assign blame, but I can't. Point that finger and here I am in a heaven or hell of my own making. What will it be? When will I understand that it is my effort that reveals Grace in my life?
Right now, intellectually, I understand that I AM light. But there is a tightness around my heart that is keeping me in the dark.
I am the Founder and President of the Procrastinators Club. I've had therapy, I've had past lives read. I had negative forces that were holding me back purged. And yet ... I put things off. I've prayed, I've sprung up and attacked tasks.
The thing about presenting a strong persona to the world is that no one knows how much help I need. Maybe it was losing my mother at a young age and being raised by clueless parents. Maybe it is the depression. And maybe it is just being bloody lazy. I don't know. But I do know that all the fingers are pointing in my direction and I cannot run because here I am.
Is this the right place to share dark moments of the soul? Probably not. Should you worry? No.
"Is there any remover of difficulty save God? Say Praise Be God, He is God! All are His servants and all abide by His bidding!" Baha'i prayer.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
What game were we playing?
The other day I spent time with a friend who'd had outpatient surgery. My role was to see to it that she got her pain pills and to keep her awake until the next dose. We decided to play cards. I was amazed that she could see to do it. We had some laughs as she made some plays that I thought were completely illegal. We both compromised but it made for a rather weird game.
Well, I have been playing cards on the computer and guess what? We were both right for the games we were playing but we were playing different games! She was playing a form of Rummy and I was playing Gin! Nearly the same, but significantly different. In Rummy you can add on to the others run and keep going or vice versa. In Gin you have to have a discard to go out, but not in Rummy.
Isn't that just like life? How many times have I been at cross purposes with someone and not known why? I will explain and explain and accuse the other of either not listening or willfully misunderstanding, when actually we weren't playing the same game. Or not on the same page, and sometimes, not in the same universe.
I have lived in Minnesota for over 35 years and I still misunderstand and am misunderstood. I come from NY and inadvertently hurt others by being direct. I also get in trouble for not knowing the code. For example, I planned an event for a certain day and my boss told me to try to find another date because she "wasn't comfortable with that day." I could not find another day that worked and went ahead. She confronted me and asked why I did it when she told me not to. I explained that she didn't say not to do it, just that she would prefer it on a different day if possible because she wasn't comfortable with it. How could I play when I didn't know the rules?
How much of the misery of what had been a happy marriage was because we were miscommunicating? All the communication workshops in the world can't help when one person is trying to state as clearly as possible what she is trying to say and the other is speaking in a subtle code. She gets louder, in hopes of being understood and he gets quieter and stops trying. Subtlety is lost on me.
I am not a mindreader. I have hurt the people I love by sometimes saying the way I think or feel in a less than tactful way. Recently I realized that someone I care about was giving off waves of dislike while trying to smile. Sometimes it gets through to someone as clueless as me. I care about this person and every person in that household. I am so sorry for making them feel bad.
What game am I playing? Am I winning or losing? I sure hope to have fun participating whether I know the rules or make them up on the spot.
Well, I have been playing cards on the computer and guess what? We were both right for the games we were playing but we were playing different games! She was playing a form of Rummy and I was playing Gin! Nearly the same, but significantly different. In Rummy you can add on to the others run and keep going or vice versa. In Gin you have to have a discard to go out, but not in Rummy.
Isn't that just like life? How many times have I been at cross purposes with someone and not known why? I will explain and explain and accuse the other of either not listening or willfully misunderstanding, when actually we weren't playing the same game. Or not on the same page, and sometimes, not in the same universe.
I have lived in Minnesota for over 35 years and I still misunderstand and am misunderstood. I come from NY and inadvertently hurt others by being direct. I also get in trouble for not knowing the code. For example, I planned an event for a certain day and my boss told me to try to find another date because she "wasn't comfortable with that day." I could not find another day that worked and went ahead. She confronted me and asked why I did it when she told me not to. I explained that she didn't say not to do it, just that she would prefer it on a different day if possible because she wasn't comfortable with it. How could I play when I didn't know the rules?
How much of the misery of what had been a happy marriage was because we were miscommunicating? All the communication workshops in the world can't help when one person is trying to state as clearly as possible what she is trying to say and the other is speaking in a subtle code. She gets louder, in hopes of being understood and he gets quieter and stops trying. Subtlety is lost on me.
I am not a mindreader. I have hurt the people I love by sometimes saying the way I think or feel in a less than tactful way. Recently I realized that someone I care about was giving off waves of dislike while trying to smile. Sometimes it gets through to someone as clueless as me. I care about this person and every person in that household. I am so sorry for making them feel bad.
What game am I playing? Am I winning or losing? I sure hope to have fun participating whether I know the rules or make them up on the spot.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Woman at the mercy, a girl stuff entry
Hormones. There you have it. Women spend a great deal of their lives at the mercy of their own hormones.
Aside from doing it myself, I have watched my own daughters go through puberty. One seemed to float through it, as she floats through life, and the other had it hit her with full force. One time when she was particularly unhappy I asked her if she'd had a period recently and she burst into tears. When she realized what she had was premenstrual stress she started being aware of it and learned to anticipate the bad moods and deal with them.
When I was young I learned to lessen the effects of PMS by use of calcium and vitamin E. That is not to say I didn't get a little nuts, I did, but only for a day and not a week each month.
My first pregnancy played havoc with my hormones. My behavior changed to such a degree that within days of conception people started asking me if I was pregnant. When I asked why they were asking, my co-worker said I had turned into a bitch overnight. I couldn't stand being touched by the veins in my husband's arms and other nutty behavior.
By being aware of what I have been feeling and the calendar, I have been able to deal with my hormones messing with my mind. But going through menopause changes all the rules. I think it is the unpredictability that starts all the stories about crazy menopausal women. We don't understand that it is our hormones making us nuts. Now I can have PMS for a month and think I am just depressed and suddenly feel the heavy breasts and wonder, "Am I getting a period?" Nah. Yep. I don't know. Oh, is that blood? I guess I AM getting a period.
They say the ages of menopause are 38-62. You are not officially done until you can go a whole year without a period. Now I will have to start counting again.
Aside from doing it myself, I have watched my own daughters go through puberty. One seemed to float through it, as she floats through life, and the other had it hit her with full force. One time when she was particularly unhappy I asked her if she'd had a period recently and she burst into tears. When she realized what she had was premenstrual stress she started being aware of it and learned to anticipate the bad moods and deal with them.
When I was young I learned to lessen the effects of PMS by use of calcium and vitamin E. That is not to say I didn't get a little nuts, I did, but only for a day and not a week each month.
My first pregnancy played havoc with my hormones. My behavior changed to such a degree that within days of conception people started asking me if I was pregnant. When I asked why they were asking, my co-worker said I had turned into a bitch overnight. I couldn't stand being touched by the veins in my husband's arms and other nutty behavior.
By being aware of what I have been feeling and the calendar, I have been able to deal with my hormones messing with my mind. But going through menopause changes all the rules. I think it is the unpredictability that starts all the stories about crazy menopausal women. We don't understand that it is our hormones making us nuts. Now I can have PMS for a month and think I am just depressed and suddenly feel the heavy breasts and wonder, "Am I getting a period?" Nah. Yep. I don't know. Oh, is that blood? I guess I AM getting a period.
They say the ages of menopause are 38-62. You are not officially done until you can go a whole year without a period. Now I will have to start counting again.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Attitude
Have you seen this magazine called "More"? I read it at the dentist yesterday. It is geared towards the woman in middle age, which can be from 40 and up. Ahem. Anyway I picked it up because the cover had a teaser about the ten best careers for women in midlife.
Number one was the job I lost a few years ago. I loved it as a community services manager. It was different everyday and I got to help lots of people. As I read the article which laid out the salary from 42-80 thousand, yeah right, more like 32-50, I was assailed with negativity. Where the fuck are these jobs and why can't I find one? I can't remember the other nine jobs.
I came home and got ready to go out. While in the shower I wondered if my attitude was the problem? Instead of looking at that article with a jaundiced eye, maybe I can say, cool. Maybe I can change my attitude to one of great, there are jobs out there that I can do and all I have to do is be open. Can't hurt.
So between the negative and positive energy, I am spinning like an atom.
Number one was the job I lost a few years ago. I loved it as a community services manager. It was different everyday and I got to help lots of people. As I read the article which laid out the salary from 42-80 thousand, yeah right, more like 32-50, I was assailed with negativity. Where the fuck are these jobs and why can't I find one? I can't remember the other nine jobs.
I came home and got ready to go out. While in the shower I wondered if my attitude was the problem? Instead of looking at that article with a jaundiced eye, maybe I can say, cool. Maybe I can change my attitude to one of great, there are jobs out there that I can do and all I have to do is be open. Can't hurt.
So between the negative and positive energy, I am spinning like an atom.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
High Maintenance
Several years ago at work some of the guys were talking about people who are high maintenance. I innocently thought that because I don't wear much makeup and my hair is generally short or a mess that I couldn't be high maintenance. My friend Michael started to hoot, "Carol," he said, "you are extremely high maintenance!" I didn't understand it at the time.
I really am not that vain unless something I am attached to gets messed with. Then I am so self conscious, I become one pointed. In 1987 I needed to get a front tooth pulled but lived in total pain until the false tooth was ready. I would not go even one day without a front tooth.
I've been blessed with really good skin. It has few wrinkles. I have a fairly light case of rosacea that mostly shows up as pink skin. Little by little the pinkness is turning into tiny blood vessels close to the surface. Not like Uncle Bill the heavy drinker. I finally had the laser treatment and all I can say is "Oh my God! I have a pizza face."
They warned me it would look worse before it looked better. The first day it was swollen. The next day I did look like hard drinking Uncle Bill with the veins turning almost black. And now today, I look like an old witch with acne.
I didn't take my parents out today. I scared a delivery guy and I definitely did not go to a White Trash Party I was invited to. Hope springs eternal and I had a great costume complete with turquoise eyeshadow. But by this afternoon I knew that partying was out for me. My daughter tried to convince me to add a few false warts and I would fit right in. Um... no.
The old lady, 95, has a couple of sayings. She says that you have to suffer to be beautiful. After this treatment, I totally agree. She also says that every day of your life you are in a beauty contest. I opted out of the competition a long time ago and skated on being young and cute. It is quite a shock to pass the mirror and see someone not young, and believe me with a face like this, not cute either.
I've often heard that true beauty is on the inside. I don't really care what my innards look like. I'd rather be superficially good looking on the outside. So there you have it, my dark and vain high maintenance self exposed at last. (Bwahahaha!)
I really am not that vain unless something I am attached to gets messed with. Then I am so self conscious, I become one pointed. In 1987 I needed to get a front tooth pulled but lived in total pain until the false tooth was ready. I would not go even one day without a front tooth.
I've been blessed with really good skin. It has few wrinkles. I have a fairly light case of rosacea that mostly shows up as pink skin. Little by little the pinkness is turning into tiny blood vessels close to the surface. Not like Uncle Bill the heavy drinker. I finally had the laser treatment and all I can say is "Oh my God! I have a pizza face."
They warned me it would look worse before it looked better. The first day it was swollen. The next day I did look like hard drinking Uncle Bill with the veins turning almost black. And now today, I look like an old witch with acne.
I didn't take my parents out today. I scared a delivery guy and I definitely did not go to a White Trash Party I was invited to. Hope springs eternal and I had a great costume complete with turquoise eyeshadow. But by this afternoon I knew that partying was out for me. My daughter tried to convince me to add a few false warts and I would fit right in. Um... no.
The old lady, 95, has a couple of sayings. She says that you have to suffer to be beautiful. After this treatment, I totally agree. She also says that every day of your life you are in a beauty contest. I opted out of the competition a long time ago and skated on being young and cute. It is quite a shock to pass the mirror and see someone not young, and believe me with a face like this, not cute either.
I've often heard that true beauty is on the inside. I don't really care what my innards look like. I'd rather be superficially good looking on the outside. So there you have it, my dark and vain high maintenance self exposed at last. (Bwahahaha!)
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Cleaning up loose ends
Blogging is two sided. I write for me, and I write for you. If it was only for me I would mark it as a private diary entry. Sometimes I hit a nerve and someone will send me an email or leave a comment.
I have been enjoying my own place and putting off going back to the house to deal with the den/office. Being back at the house is like a field full of unexploded and hidden mines. L is still in town and she promised to help me. We were in the process of throwing away a bunch of old paper and she said, "I told Dad he should get a shredder and he is going to get one." Bang! There goes one now. I said that I tried to tell him that we needed one and he said they were too noisy and we didn't need one. "Why will he listen to you and he wouldn't listen to me?"
After awhile I said that one can't help the way they feel, and sometimes feelings change. What I have the hardest time forgiving, though, is his assertion that he wanted to stay married while building a new life without me. I wasted so much time waiting for things to get better, to go back to normal. We each lied to ourselves and each other. I should have packed my bags as soon as I knew his feelings had changed.
So I am mad at him for not being honest and mad at the way I put myself in this position. I am sorrowful at wasting time, years, waiting for the bad patch to be over and laughter to begin again.
Tomorrow, today actually, is another day. We have some more sorting to do. I want to be able to look at the stuff as stuff and not assign an emotional value to anything. I want to walk in, do what needs to be done, and leave.
I have been enjoying my own place and putting off going back to the house to deal with the den/office. Being back at the house is like a field full of unexploded and hidden mines. L is still in town and she promised to help me. We were in the process of throwing away a bunch of old paper and she said, "I told Dad he should get a shredder and he is going to get one." Bang! There goes one now. I said that I tried to tell him that we needed one and he said they were too noisy and we didn't need one. "Why will he listen to you and he wouldn't listen to me?"
After awhile I said that one can't help the way they feel, and sometimes feelings change. What I have the hardest time forgiving, though, is his assertion that he wanted to stay married while building a new life without me. I wasted so much time waiting for things to get better, to go back to normal. We each lied to ourselves and each other. I should have packed my bags as soon as I knew his feelings had changed.
So I am mad at him for not being honest and mad at the way I put myself in this position. I am sorrowful at wasting time, years, waiting for the bad patch to be over and laughter to begin again.
Tomorrow, today actually, is another day. We have some more sorting to do. I want to be able to look at the stuff as stuff and not assign an emotional value to anything. I want to walk in, do what needs to be done, and leave.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Yeah, that is over
For some reason, I invited S and L to come over and watch Vikings game on my flat screen. I guess I didn't want to be alone and I thought they would enjoy it. I am not much of a football fan, although the coverage is much more exciting than in the old days before cams on cable. I used to like the Jets when Joe Namath played (boy does that age me) and I dated Bruce Taylor of the San Francisco 49ers back when I was young and stupid. He was young and stupid too.
L wanted to prepare a dinner with me. We picked out a recipe and she went shopping for the ingredients. I had to laugh when she came home with a rotisserie chicken and a bag of frozen french fries. Masala naan, humus and pickles rounded out the meal. S came over after working out. They ate watching the game and I ate at the table.
The first half of the game was pretty exciting and they were happy. I had enough football and went into the bedroom to read. Then the shouting started, the cursing, the hopes of the faithful being shattered once again. Nine minutes left in the fourth quarter and I decided to go to the grocery to get some fuzzy water. I didn't want to be here.
Lovely wandering the aisles, looking at fancy stuff, hearing the game in the background. Oh no, it went into overtime. Being the only person in Byerly's, I chatted with the staff who happened to be from Africa. We talked about crazy soccer fans, comparing them with football fans. Finally, I could put it off no longer and went back to my place. Still in overtime, you could cut the tension with a knife. Sudden death field goal and New Orleans had won. S got up and left without a word. L gave me a kiss and went back to the house.
I turned to the Smuckers cavalcade of stars on ice. Happy, joyous young athletes skating their success in winning nationals. I was smiling from ear to ear with them. S is the past, I don't need him and I don't want him. We will always be parents and grandparents, and on some level we will always be tied. But instead of in the past where he had a life without me, and I was lonely, I now have a life without him. I realize I might be alone, but my, my, my, it is so much better than being lonely with him.
Is there a time when we realize all we need to know? Is there a tool that measures understanding? I think it is only by living everyday that we achieve any understanding of ourselves or others. I do not subscribe anymore to the theory that any part of life should take a particular amount of time. Well, pregnancy is the exception to the rule. But a child walks and talks in their own time. Love is it's own timetable. Mourning, healing, taking steps towards health are all individual endeavors.
There is the realization that my time here on Earth is finite. There is the perception that after youth, life is all downhill. I am here to fight that perception. Maybe I will be able to create a successful career at 57. Maybe I will achieve financial security. But maybe I will only be able to work part time, maybe I will live on a fixed income counting all my dimes. I don't know. I have spent so much of my life worried about all the bad things that could happen. Now, in this time of rebuilding, I want to enjoy life and the blessings that are mine. There is a bunny that frolics in the snow outside. There is a warm bed and good book waiting. Yes, the Vikings have lost again, but for me, life goes on.
L wanted to prepare a dinner with me. We picked out a recipe and she went shopping for the ingredients. I had to laugh when she came home with a rotisserie chicken and a bag of frozen french fries. Masala naan, humus and pickles rounded out the meal. S came over after working out. They ate watching the game and I ate at the table.
The first half of the game was pretty exciting and they were happy. I had enough football and went into the bedroom to read. Then the shouting started, the cursing, the hopes of the faithful being shattered once again. Nine minutes left in the fourth quarter and I decided to go to the grocery to get some fuzzy water. I didn't want to be here.
Lovely wandering the aisles, looking at fancy stuff, hearing the game in the background. Oh no, it went into overtime. Being the only person in Byerly's, I chatted with the staff who happened to be from Africa. We talked about crazy soccer fans, comparing them with football fans. Finally, I could put it off no longer and went back to my place. Still in overtime, you could cut the tension with a knife. Sudden death field goal and New Orleans had won. S got up and left without a word. L gave me a kiss and went back to the house.
I turned to the Smuckers cavalcade of stars on ice. Happy, joyous young athletes skating their success in winning nationals. I was smiling from ear to ear with them. S is the past, I don't need him and I don't want him. We will always be parents and grandparents, and on some level we will always be tied. But instead of in the past where he had a life without me, and I was lonely, I now have a life without him. I realize I might be alone, but my, my, my, it is so much better than being lonely with him.
Is there a time when we realize all we need to know? Is there a tool that measures understanding? I think it is only by living everyday that we achieve any understanding of ourselves or others. I do not subscribe anymore to the theory that any part of life should take a particular amount of time. Well, pregnancy is the exception to the rule. But a child walks and talks in their own time. Love is it's own timetable. Mourning, healing, taking steps towards health are all individual endeavors.
There is the realization that my time here on Earth is finite. There is the perception that after youth, life is all downhill. I am here to fight that perception. Maybe I will be able to create a successful career at 57. Maybe I will achieve financial security. But maybe I will only be able to work part time, maybe I will live on a fixed income counting all my dimes. I don't know. I have spent so much of my life worried about all the bad things that could happen. Now, in this time of rebuilding, I want to enjoy life and the blessings that are mine. There is a bunny that frolics in the snow outside. There is a warm bed and good book waiting. Yes, the Vikings have lost again, but for me, life goes on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
