I wasn't one who put any energy into the Y2K hysteria. It seemed so Chicken Little to me, and after all the hoopla wasn't much more than an acorn falling on a chicken's head. To commemorate the occasion I purchased two drastically reduced tapestry calendars for posterity. They are in a box somewhere and in about three hundred years will be worth at least double what I paid. Too bad no one else was as farsighted (evil little chuckle).
Here it is ten years on and what has changed? It has been a decade of highs and lows, movement and inertia. I got out of food service and into a good job helping other people. Lost that job and spent years trying to get over that rejection. Now I am doing a strangely different food service job and seeing that I have sales skills. I understand that if I believe in a product I can sell it and if it doesn't interest me, I don't do a very good job. I adored the triple cream brie but could not enthuse over peanut butter creme sandwich cookies. I mean, what was the point? (Written by a true butter and chocolate enthusiast.)
In 2005 I moved my 90 and 91 year old parents from their home in Brooklyn, NY to an assisted living apartment in a suburb of Minneapolis. It was a hard adjustment for everyone and I am amazed to think we will celebrate the old lady's 97th birthday on February tenth. The handicapped sticker will expire in April. We all laughed at expiration date of 2011. No one thought they would live this long. I have been up and down with them, losing my temper in a big way every year and a half or so. At this point, although she can still annoy me, the old lady and I have a very good relationship. At least she SEES that I do a lot for them and tells me thank you. The old man is a mess. Skinny, weak, stubborn, sometimes on the ball, sometimes confused, and often very demanding. In some ways he reminds me of an old cat or dog. The difference is that one day the pet owner can make a decision to end that life, but as humans and caretakers we make sure life goes on. My late father-in-law once referred to pneumonia as the old folks friend, and when his mother who had terrible Alzheimer's Disease got sick, they didn't treat it and she soon passed peacefully. My father has had it twice and good antibiotics and excellent care saw him through. I might have to resort to a padded hammer. (That is a joke, folks.)
This has been a decade of hurt and hope and endings and beginnings for me personally. My marriage suffered a crisis, then a period of rebuilding, then a realization of ending. We had a healing ceremony and freed and forgave each other. But it is hard to part with an investment of over thirty years and sometimes I feel completely over it, and sometimes I hurt, and sometimes I cry. But mostly I am happy. I have dated some nice men who made me feel lovely and like I have a lot to offer. I have come to the realization that if I am not adored and adoring, I would much rather be alone. I'd like some companionship it is true, but I like my own company far too much to waste time dating the wrong people. I am open to the possibilities of a relationship should it come along.
Depression can be a killer and I experienced quite a long period of inertia, of only getting out when I had to deal with something. I wondered why I was living, what was my purpose in life, or had I already fulfilled it and was it time for the next level? Meeting new people, taking care of my parents, and loving my daughters got me through those years as did medication. I will not say I am completely over it because depression is sneaky and sometimes comes down like a slow curtain and other times attacks like a sniper. The biggest weapon in my arsenal to fight depression is the perspective that it will pass and the faith to ask for help from the Creator. To understand that it is part of my life, but not who I am.
So, as this decade ends and a new one starts I wish for myself what I wish for others, love, compassion, success, good health and the ability to laugh at myself and enjoy this life. Happy New Year.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
While my hair turns purple
While my hair turns purple, or more correctly burgundy...
Last week everyone was preparing for Christmas, guests, family, big dinners and party food. Watching what people put in their carts this week is a return to reality, vegetables, fruits, bread and the basics. No more giant hunks of beef and rack of lamb. No more trays of appetizers and boxes of truffles. Yet the demonstrations for salsa and hummus go on and on and on.
Working, even at a crappy job, has been good for me. I seem to have lost these past few years. I can't recall anything of any significance happening. I spent a lot of time in a depressed daze and doze. I remember feeling helpless and hopeless. I was walking on eggs, and, in fear of breaking them, just stopped walking. It was a hard situation for everyone to observe. I will always be in debt to S's family for providing a way out of purgatory.
Living alone has been good for me. Living with the boys, Piper and Little Mister, has been even better. Not that it will be a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I am a rotten housekeeper. There is a great satisfaction in having a clean house. I just haven't made the connection to keeping it pristine. I think at my age I never will. The only solution is to become wealthy and hire a keeper.
Which brings me back to working. As this year ends, I am going to try to find a better job. If anyone knows of a position for an erudite, creative woman with burgundy hair, please think of me. I have lots of experience in many fields.
There goes the timer now.
Last week everyone was preparing for Christmas, guests, family, big dinners and party food. Watching what people put in their carts this week is a return to reality, vegetables, fruits, bread and the basics. No more giant hunks of beef and rack of lamb. No more trays of appetizers and boxes of truffles. Yet the demonstrations for salsa and hummus go on and on and on.
Working, even at a crappy job, has been good for me. I seem to have lost these past few years. I can't recall anything of any significance happening. I spent a lot of time in a depressed daze and doze. I remember feeling helpless and hopeless. I was walking on eggs, and, in fear of breaking them, just stopped walking. It was a hard situation for everyone to observe. I will always be in debt to S's family for providing a way out of purgatory.
Living alone has been good for me. Living with the boys, Piper and Little Mister, has been even better. Not that it will be a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I am a rotten housekeeper. There is a great satisfaction in having a clean house. I just haven't made the connection to keeping it pristine. I think at my age I never will. The only solution is to become wealthy and hire a keeper.
Which brings me back to working. As this year ends, I am going to try to find a better job. If anyone knows of a position for an erudite, creative woman with burgundy hair, please think of me. I have lots of experience in many fields.
There goes the timer now.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
A Different Christmas
This Christmas was going to be different. This year I would be alone on Christmas day. We celebrated on Christmas Eve and I wasn't sad or lonely. I wrote in my blog that I was looking forward to spending some quiet time. But a friend invited me to spend the day playing games and eating with her parents and I wound up having a delightful time. I was not with the family I usually celebrate Christmas day, but they were still with me.
It is funny how our lives interweave. Erica was recruited to the National Guard by my friend Michele's ex husband. She used to babysit for them when their son was young. Then I met Michele in an online group and we became friends. Her parents are about my age and we had clicked immediately. While we were exchanging histories and stories, I felt my family near. I talked about my dear in laws, daughters, great nephews and their parents. I talked about my son-in-law and grandson. My parents, cousins, so many people.
The person I felt nearest to was my sister. She has a distinctive way of talking, fluttering her eyelids, moving her hands. She is uniquely beautiful and I love her dearly. Michele has those exact mannerisms; it is oddly wonderful and very entertaining.
We played a board game called Aggravation. We played Boggle and now they are addicted. (I only won by one point, eek!) Our dinner was delicious, prime rib. I have never liked that cut of meat in my life. I said I needed mine well done and it was cooked to perfection. It wasn't beef I was eating, oh no. It was the love and affection Michele and her mother had for each other. It was the hospitality and warmth to a stranger that I was eating, and as I said, it was delicious.
Isn't it great to be open to what each day brings? I am the one who usually invites yet now I am the invited. This has been a wonderful, peaceful day. The boys welcomed me home. I am so happy to be alive.
It is funny how our lives interweave. Erica was recruited to the National Guard by my friend Michele's ex husband. She used to babysit for them when their son was young. Then I met Michele in an online group and we became friends. Her parents are about my age and we had clicked immediately. While we were exchanging histories and stories, I felt my family near. I talked about my dear in laws, daughters, great nephews and their parents. I talked about my son-in-law and grandson. My parents, cousins, so many people.
The person I felt nearest to was my sister. She has a distinctive way of talking, fluttering her eyelids, moving her hands. She is uniquely beautiful and I love her dearly. Michele has those exact mannerisms; it is oddly wonderful and very entertaining.
We played a board game called Aggravation. We played Boggle and now they are addicted. (I only won by one point, eek!) Our dinner was delicious, prime rib. I have never liked that cut of meat in my life. I said I needed mine well done and it was cooked to perfection. It wasn't beef I was eating, oh no. It was the love and affection Michele and her mother had for each other. It was the hospitality and warmth to a stranger that I was eating, and as I said, it was delicious.
Isn't it great to be open to what each day brings? I am the one who usually invites yet now I am the invited. This has been a wonderful, peaceful day. The boys welcomed me home. I am so happy to be alive.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Bending time
Little Mister Mischief, chief sweetheart and trouble maker thought it was about time that I got up and did what a human was supposed to do; feed him. He tried to be nice, rubbing against my back and purring, but I did not respond. Then he started pushing things off the night table, making as much noise as possible. I yelled, "Stop it!" three or four times and finally surrendered. They are fed and sated. Whether felines philosophize about the nature of time, I will never know.
Tonight, Christmas Eve, I am making Chanukah latkes for my daughters and son-in-law. It doesn't matter that Chanukah, a very minor Jewish holiday is long over, Christmas Eve dinner is latkes. Friends of mine have been making plans to celebrate their holidays at one set of parents one week, and with others on Christmas day. A birthday celebrated within the month is quite acceptable these days. It doesn't seem to matter what the calendar says, we bend time to suit ourselves.
It wasn't always like this. In the beginning, if we are to believe scripture, God created the world in six days and on the seventh rested. For centuries, people observed the Sabbath. Growing up in NYC, stores were closed on Sunday. You didn't have to rest or go to church, but few people worked. I don't remember when driving to Long Island to shop at Valley Stream covered mall became a Sunday destination. It relieved the boredom of football and golf on black and white TV.
Now, we live in a 24 hour society. Shop anytime at home or pick up milk at three AM. Who is staffing all these opportunities? People who have their Sundays on Wednesday. When the girls where young, dad worked Monday through Friday and the weekends were for bike races. When we started the business, Saturdays were for customers and when I started working banquets, all schedules for me flew out the window. I worked when there was work, not realizing the havoc no set schedule was making in our life. I was so excited to get a real, 9-5, weekday job. I thought we could go back to having a regular life, but time had moved on and nothing was the same.
A farmer knows one can't really bend time. It might be more convenient for him to plant in the fall and harvest in the spring; the cows can't wait months until he has the time to milk them. There are still schedules that are immoveable and the consequence for not obeying can be starvation.
I always thought I had enough time. I am a terrible procrastinator, and the kind of person who can make it come together at the last minute, or not at all. I can convince myself that I will do it later and it will be fine. Sometimes that works, but not all that often. Sometimes the opportunity is lost and never comes back. Applications not sent in on time, bills piled up accruing late fees, retirement not funded, and chances for love and affection set on the back burner to grow cold.
At one point I went to a shaman to ask why I sabotage myself by procrastination. She told me that in past lives I had made some really bad decisions, so am scared to move in this life. Be that as it may, (or may not) it didn't help this life. I can bend time to eat Chanukah food on Christmas Eve, but I can't turn back time. I am still 58 and in a precarious position. I am not in my 30's trying to establish a career and can't bend time back to make different life choices. Now is now.
And now is all anyone really has. I am going to try to use it wisely, but I am not making any promises.
Tonight, Christmas Eve, I am making Chanukah latkes for my daughters and son-in-law. It doesn't matter that Chanukah, a very minor Jewish holiday is long over, Christmas Eve dinner is latkes. Friends of mine have been making plans to celebrate their holidays at one set of parents one week, and with others on Christmas day. A birthday celebrated within the month is quite acceptable these days. It doesn't seem to matter what the calendar says, we bend time to suit ourselves.
It wasn't always like this. In the beginning, if we are to believe scripture, God created the world in six days and on the seventh rested. For centuries, people observed the Sabbath. Growing up in NYC, stores were closed on Sunday. You didn't have to rest or go to church, but few people worked. I don't remember when driving to Long Island to shop at Valley Stream covered mall became a Sunday destination. It relieved the boredom of football and golf on black and white TV.
Now, we live in a 24 hour society. Shop anytime at home or pick up milk at three AM. Who is staffing all these opportunities? People who have their Sundays on Wednesday. When the girls where young, dad worked Monday through Friday and the weekends were for bike races. When we started the business, Saturdays were for customers and when I started working banquets, all schedules for me flew out the window. I worked when there was work, not realizing the havoc no set schedule was making in our life. I was so excited to get a real, 9-5, weekday job. I thought we could go back to having a regular life, but time had moved on and nothing was the same.
A farmer knows one can't really bend time. It might be more convenient for him to plant in the fall and harvest in the spring; the cows can't wait months until he has the time to milk them. There are still schedules that are immoveable and the consequence for not obeying can be starvation.
I always thought I had enough time. I am a terrible procrastinator, and the kind of person who can make it come together at the last minute, or not at all. I can convince myself that I will do it later and it will be fine. Sometimes that works, but not all that often. Sometimes the opportunity is lost and never comes back. Applications not sent in on time, bills piled up accruing late fees, retirement not funded, and chances for love and affection set on the back burner to grow cold.
At one point I went to a shaman to ask why I sabotage myself by procrastination. She told me that in past lives I had made some really bad decisions, so am scared to move in this life. Be that as it may, (or may not) it didn't help this life. I can bend time to eat Chanukah food on Christmas Eve, but I can't turn back time. I am still 58 and in a precarious position. I am not in my 30's trying to establish a career and can't bend time back to make different life choices. Now is now.
And now is all anyone really has. I am going to try to use it wisely, but I am not making any promises.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Decreasing Holiday Stress
Working as a demonstrator at a warehouse store has shown me a whole new world of human behavior. And some of the time it isn't very good. I see the best and worst of people. I see parents teaching their children manners and I see other parents being manipulated by their kids. Once in a while I will look at a child and say, "I know I didn't hear you talk that way to your mother. I know you always ask nicely. Why don't you try it again?" But most of the time I just admire the babies and tell the little ones how wonderful they are. I compliment parents all the time on their children. Everyone is happy then. Oh, those babies. They are so beautiful.
Today I was demonstrating a 100% natural spinach, artichoke and parmesan dip. It is really tasty and I used 16 thirty-one ounce tubs in six hours. That is a lot of dip to portion out by the teaspoon. One man told me I should add more spinach and artichoke and take out the mayo. Didn't he understand that was what was holding the dip together? Didn't he understand that I only served it, I didn't cook the stuff? Didn't he understand that this is free food and if you don't like it, don't eat it? Nope, he stood there berating me. Oy.
People are stressed. The parking lot was full and people drove round and around. My niece, who works at the Mall of America could not find a place to park and actually went home so her husband could drive her back and drop her off at work. The supervisors are stressed. The cashiers are pressured to work faster. One woman I know who is working seasonal at FedEX is supposed to unload 1000 packages an hour. All for the holiday. Minnesota has wonderful snow removal, but people are stressed by the thought of more snow coming.
This year, my personal holiday is nearly stress free. I will make latkes for Christmas eve, and for the first time in 35 years, I will spend Christmas alone. I can go up to see my mother-in-law along with daughter and ex, but it is time to separate. I will still have a relationship with her because we do love each other, but the time has come for me not to be part of S's family celebration. I am thrilled to have a whole day for myself. Christmas was never part of my tradition and I could use the break. One daughter did tell me that I made Christmas happy for her as a child and hearing that meant a lot to me.
For those of you planning huge spreads this Christmas, give yourself a break. What your guests will remember is the love you put into the food you serve. Whether you get the finest proscuito or some a little cheaper, don't make yourself crazy. If you only have one appetizer instead of three, don't sweat it. There is no way you can fulfill everyone's wishes and no way you can make the holiday "perfect". Uh, uh, it isn't going to happen. There is nothing wrong with having high expectations, nothing wrong at all. But change the expectations from unattainable perfection to filling your get together with laughter and acceptance. Concentrate on making each other smile. Enjoy the ones you love, and try compassion on the ones who irritate.
I'm going to try to heed my own advice as we enter the homestretch towards Christmas. I will smile, smile, smile, no matter what. (That isn't a facial rictus, it's a peaceful smile. Can't you tell?)
Today I was demonstrating a 100% natural spinach, artichoke and parmesan dip. It is really tasty and I used 16 thirty-one ounce tubs in six hours. That is a lot of dip to portion out by the teaspoon. One man told me I should add more spinach and artichoke and take out the mayo. Didn't he understand that was what was holding the dip together? Didn't he understand that I only served it, I didn't cook the stuff? Didn't he understand that this is free food and if you don't like it, don't eat it? Nope, he stood there berating me. Oy.
People are stressed. The parking lot was full and people drove round and around. My niece, who works at the Mall of America could not find a place to park and actually went home so her husband could drive her back and drop her off at work. The supervisors are stressed. The cashiers are pressured to work faster. One woman I know who is working seasonal at FedEX is supposed to unload 1000 packages an hour. All for the holiday. Minnesota has wonderful snow removal, but people are stressed by the thought of more snow coming.
This year, my personal holiday is nearly stress free. I will make latkes for Christmas eve, and for the first time in 35 years, I will spend Christmas alone. I can go up to see my mother-in-law along with daughter and ex, but it is time to separate. I will still have a relationship with her because we do love each other, but the time has come for me not to be part of S's family celebration. I am thrilled to have a whole day for myself. Christmas was never part of my tradition and I could use the break. One daughter did tell me that I made Christmas happy for her as a child and hearing that meant a lot to me.
For those of you planning huge spreads this Christmas, give yourself a break. What your guests will remember is the love you put into the food you serve. Whether you get the finest proscuito or some a little cheaper, don't make yourself crazy. If you only have one appetizer instead of three, don't sweat it. There is no way you can fulfill everyone's wishes and no way you can make the holiday "perfect". Uh, uh, it isn't going to happen. There is nothing wrong with having high expectations, nothing wrong at all. But change the expectations from unattainable perfection to filling your get together with laughter and acceptance. Concentrate on making each other smile. Enjoy the ones you love, and try compassion on the ones who irritate.
I'm going to try to heed my own advice as we enter the homestretch towards Christmas. I will smile, smile, smile, no matter what. (That isn't a facial rictus, it's a peaceful smile. Can't you tell?)
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Don't disrespect your spouse
I was flogging some kind of soup today when an old man came to get a sample. He liked it and I suggested he buy some. He would, he said, except for his shit for brains wife wouldn't eat it. I said, "Sir, please don't disrespect your wife." Then I turned away. I wonder if that man realized how bad talking about his wife made him look? Not good at all, and very hard to respect. One of my coworkers was standing next to me and she was pretty shocked, too.
I told her the story of long ago when we lived in Jordan, MN. We hired a babysitter to watch the girls and off we went to the old theater in New Prague. It was a beastly cold night. At one point some teenagers behind us were making a lot of noise and I turned and told them to be quiet. One of them called me a bitch and S faced them and told them they were not to disrespect his wife. Then he went to the manager and had them kicked out. We spent the rest of the movie sitting stock still, wondering if they were going to beat us up when we left. As I said, it was a beastly cold night and they were gone when we got out. Whew! What a relief. If you gave me a million dollars, I still couldn't remember anything about that movie, we were that scared.
I am not a delicate flower, never was. Although S was always athletic, he was never a tough. He is better at intellectual argument where he will wear his opponent down with facts, either real or made up. So having my husband jump to my defense was a really wonderful thing. He had my back and I felt safe and secure. Another time when my folks were visiting the old man made me cry. At one point I said to S, "If you love me, you will call in sick today. Don't leave me alone with them." He went up to my father and told him that although I was his daughter, I was also his wife and he would not allow anyone to talk to and disrespect his wife that way. The old man is still leery of him.
This is the holiday season, a time for family. It is not always a happy time by any means. One way to weather the emotional storms that can come when families don't get along well, when there is poor communication or years of resentments that never were resolved is to be there for each other. Be a unit. What is done to one is done to both, and both do not accept poor behavior towards their spouse. There is such strength in being each other's best friend.
That is what I miss about being alone now; knowing there is no one at my back. That is what I want for all my married or committed friends and family, a certainty that the one you love will be there for you, through good times of laughter and scary nights at the movies.
Love and respect each other. There is so much strength there. You can take on the whole world... together.
I told her the story of long ago when we lived in Jordan, MN. We hired a babysitter to watch the girls and off we went to the old theater in New Prague. It was a beastly cold night. At one point some teenagers behind us were making a lot of noise and I turned and told them to be quiet. One of them called me a bitch and S faced them and told them they were not to disrespect his wife. Then he went to the manager and had them kicked out. We spent the rest of the movie sitting stock still, wondering if they were going to beat us up when we left. As I said, it was a beastly cold night and they were gone when we got out. Whew! What a relief. If you gave me a million dollars, I still couldn't remember anything about that movie, we were that scared.
I am not a delicate flower, never was. Although S was always athletic, he was never a tough. He is better at intellectual argument where he will wear his opponent down with facts, either real or made up. So having my husband jump to my defense was a really wonderful thing. He had my back and I felt safe and secure. Another time when my folks were visiting the old man made me cry. At one point I said to S, "If you love me, you will call in sick today. Don't leave me alone with them." He went up to my father and told him that although I was his daughter, I was also his wife and he would not allow anyone to talk to and disrespect his wife that way. The old man is still leery of him.
This is the holiday season, a time for family. It is not always a happy time by any means. One way to weather the emotional storms that can come when families don't get along well, when there is poor communication or years of resentments that never were resolved is to be there for each other. Be a unit. What is done to one is done to both, and both do not accept poor behavior towards their spouse. There is such strength in being each other's best friend.
That is what I miss about being alone now; knowing there is no one at my back. That is what I want for all my married or committed friends and family, a certainty that the one you love will be there for you, through good times of laughter and scary nights at the movies.
Love and respect each other. There is so much strength there. You can take on the whole world... together.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Magazine covers
Today, I spent 5 hours pushing clam chowder across the aisle from a magazine rack. Every once in a while I would look at the covers. Elizabeth Edwards on People, gingerbread house on a cooking magazine, you get the idea. But there was one that really bothered me. On OK magazine, in large yellow letters: KENDRA LOSES HER BABY! Exclamation mark and all. I understand that this woman lives a public life, but come on, is this news? Is this any way to treat a personal tragedy? It made me embarrassed to look at it and realize we are living in such a shallow, voyeuristic society. After a while I crossed the aisle and put a photography magazine in front of the offending magazine.
Cosmo was interesting, though. 60 sex tips! It made me think that for me the first 50 would be about passionate looks and kisses. Then I noticed this teaser: Look Leaner When Naked! I had to scratch my head, stand sideways? Use dim lights, or get a full body Saran Wrap before taking off clothes? How much fat can one person suck in? Well, I never did read the article but bet that the only way to look leaner when naked is to lose weight and get toned.
It reminds me of comedienne Susan Voss. She said she was willing to do anything, ANYTHING, to get a fabulous figure. Anything, that is, except diet and exercise.
So on that note, I want to say I'm getting a little better everyday. Even made it to water exercise this morning, and although I wanted to go home, worked a full day. Thank you everyone for your kind messages of hope and love.
I've been humming this song, but I only knew the first verse. Enjoy.
Cosmo was interesting, though. 60 sex tips! It made me think that for me the first 50 would be about passionate looks and kisses. Then I noticed this teaser: Look Leaner When Naked! I had to scratch my head, stand sideways? Use dim lights, or get a full body Saran Wrap before taking off clothes? How much fat can one person suck in? Well, I never did read the article but bet that the only way to look leaner when naked is to lose weight and get toned.
It reminds me of comedienne Susan Voss. She said she was willing to do anything, ANYTHING, to get a fabulous figure. Anything, that is, except diet and exercise.
So on that note, I want to say I'm getting a little better everyday. Even made it to water exercise this morning, and although I wanted to go home, worked a full day. Thank you everyone for your kind messages of hope and love.
I've been humming this song, but I only knew the first verse. Enjoy.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Optimism and Depression
I am an optimist most times. I want to believe the best of people. I try to see the good in most situations. Most people consider me a happy person. Intense, for sure, but happy. I love to laugh and have a loud laugh. I giggle most inopportunely and love to express having fun. Sometimes reading funny books, I can hardly breathe because I am laughing so hard.
November is usually a hard month for me. The light dwindles, the sky gets grey, and I get sad. This year I bought a "Happy Light" by Verilux and started exercising at morning water workouts at the JCC. Last Wednesday my dad was in very bad shape with the start of pneumonia. I got a cold and needed to sleep more and missed class. Dad responded well to antibiotics and had a great time at Gavin's birthday dinner. I spent an good evening with a friend from out of town. I wasn't at the top of my game, but I was coping pretty well although I'd had a hard day or two around the anniversary of my mother's death.
Depression is a physical drain, it is an energy sap. It comes like a wave and I could feel it suck me in. It is physical and it is mental. And it is very, very real. I want to hide in bed. I want to sleep, and shut out the world until it passes. In past years that is exactly what I did sometime. Now I have a job and must go to it. Last night I saw S and when he asked how I was doing, I asked for a hug. Today, though, I could hardly stand and get through the day. All I could think of was when I could lie down again.
Having someone speak badly of me was a trigger. Having the cats spread trash all over was another. Having an upset stomach lowered my resistance. Worrying about family, watching the news, all affected my equilibrium and I got caught in the undertow of depression. It is exhausting and bleak and I know I have to go through the cycle, I just pray it is not a bad one.
What helps is knowing there will be a day, and I hope it is soon, where I will feel fine. I will have come out of the trough of depression and will be standing on solid ground. Even though I am depressed and have barely the energy to get out of this chair, I am still an optimist.
November is usually a hard month for me. The light dwindles, the sky gets grey, and I get sad. This year I bought a "Happy Light" by Verilux and started exercising at morning water workouts at the JCC. Last Wednesday my dad was in very bad shape with the start of pneumonia. I got a cold and needed to sleep more and missed class. Dad responded well to antibiotics and had a great time at Gavin's birthday dinner. I spent an good evening with a friend from out of town. I wasn't at the top of my game, but I was coping pretty well although I'd had a hard day or two around the anniversary of my mother's death.
Depression is a physical drain, it is an energy sap. It comes like a wave and I could feel it suck me in. It is physical and it is mental. And it is very, very real. I want to hide in bed. I want to sleep, and shut out the world until it passes. In past years that is exactly what I did sometime. Now I have a job and must go to it. Last night I saw S and when he asked how I was doing, I asked for a hug. Today, though, I could hardly stand and get through the day. All I could think of was when I could lie down again.
Having someone speak badly of me was a trigger. Having the cats spread trash all over was another. Having an upset stomach lowered my resistance. Worrying about family, watching the news, all affected my equilibrium and I got caught in the undertow of depression. It is exhausting and bleak and I know I have to go through the cycle, I just pray it is not a bad one.
What helps is knowing there will be a day, and I hope it is soon, where I will feel fine. I will have come out of the trough of depression and will be standing on solid ground. Even though I am depressed and have barely the energy to get out of this chair, I am still an optimist.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
I dreamed of Snooki
This morning I awoke to the sound of cats playing with my earring hanger. I was loathe to open my eyes because I was watching a game show with that little Jersey girl, Snooki. She and her partner were debating a really easy question. Now I will never know the answer.
I don't know anything about this girl except what I have seen on the covers of magazines and SNL. but it occurs to me that her parents called her Snooki Wookums as a baby and never stopped, so people still call her Snooki. My own daughter, Erica, had a funny nickname as a baby. It came from a neighbor child calling her Ewita-tootie. Everyone called her Tootie. We moved when she was three and that was the conscious end of Tootie. Cute at three, not so adorable as an adult. (Just the name, she is still pretty cute!)
I am sitting by my Happy Light. It is a cold and grey day. Minnesota at it's worst late autumn. I had a hard day yesterday with my folks. On Tuesday I got a call from the old man, 95, that his foot was swollen. That reminded me that the old lady asked me to make an appointment to see a lady doctor. So on my break I called the clinic and was able to make two appointments for the next day, one at ten and one at eleven. Then to call the assisted living people to have my mom ready at nine-thirty and the old man at ten-thirty. I would make two trips because there was no way the old man could be ready before ten-thirty. Then I had to tell my boss I would not be in on Wednesday.
I got the old lady, 96, to the clinic and the complaint seemed to be going away. They told her the same thing I tell her all the time, she has to actually drink some water!!!!! The burning will go away if she drinks water, or juice or tea or anything but coffee. Coffee does not hydrate. I left during her exam so I could get the old man.
He is so weak. He is very vain and does not want to use a walker, so he falls. He has finally consented to a cane. It is hard as hell to watch him die by inches. He is very caustic and a clear, nasty speaker. Yesterday I asked him if he had his teeth in because he was slurring his words. He has some congestion of the chest, too.
I had told the old lady that I would take them both out to lunch, but when they started talking x-rays and ultra sounds I took her home so she could have lunch in the dining room. She was disappointed and started to complain. She wanted to have lunch out, I said well I wanted my life back. Then she started to say she wanted to die. How I didn't say, "I do, too" I will never know. I am glad I controlled myself, though. After we got to the car she said that she was calmed down and didn't mean it. I said I was glad.
They've ordered some physical therapy for the old man. They will teach him to use the cane. They haven't called me to say whether he has pneumonia, so it is probably just a cold. It was too late for lunch at the building so I took him for an experience. I brought him to Costco. He was able to get in an electric Scooter they have and drive around looking for bargains. He realized he didn't need anything. We shared a hot dog and slice of pizza. He enjoyed it and realized that he really doesn't want to drive anymore.
In February, it will be six years since I rescued my parents from NY. The old man was in a nursing home and the old lady was isolated in an apartment in the projects. Had I left them there, both would be dead by now. My sister disapproved of what I did, but came from California to help me pack and move them. During this time I lost my job. There was one six week period that I took my father to a wound clinic three times a week. After my mother got new dentures, I brought her back to have them adjusted twenty-three times, a new dental office record. I take them out every Saturday or arrange for one of my daughters to do so.
I left home at seventeen, the last time my father beat me. Why? I hadn't gone to the doctor for a cold. For that I was kicked with steel toed boots. Over the years I had therapy. I became a parent that stopped the cycle of abuse this generation. I visited NY every year or so and that seemed to be sufficient. As they got older and more frail, I fretted about what to do. My sister said she forbid me to take them to Minnesota. I spent hours on the phone trying to get home services for them, but they had too much money for aid but not enough to get services. It was a mess.
I don't remember when, but I had a very clear message from my birth mother. She wanted me to take care of the old man and my step-mother. Because she loved him, and I loved her, I agreed. Now that the old man is on anti-depressant, he is much easier to deal with, although he can still be a very nasty bastard. At one point I was seeing a therapist to deal with the way he was able to push my buttons, calling me stupid and lazy.
My goal, all along is to be able to say when they die that I have no regrets, that I have done everything to make their last years good ones. I do not know what happens when you die, but I do not want to spend another lifetime or eternity with these particular people. I want to finish our business this life. Over these past years I have grown in patience. I can sit at a restaurant and watch them share a cup of coffee. I can watch her dip her dentures in her water glass with total equanimity. I can sit patiently while he takes an hour to eat stone cold pancakes. But a day like yesterday is very trying.
It is not the bogus complaints. It is not the time spent with them that upsets me. It is the realization that I have not come to a place of not being resentful of the time they take and how l still want to be appreciated. Nobody expected them to live six more years. I know it is me keeping them alive. They have to stay and teach me the lessons I need to learn until I get it right. I look at myself, I want a job in the helping area. I want to join the Peace Corps when I retire. But right here, right now, I have a volunteer job in service to others. It is hard to look the mirror of my hypocrisy.
I don't know anything about this girl except what I have seen on the covers of magazines and SNL. but it occurs to me that her parents called her Snooki Wookums as a baby and never stopped, so people still call her Snooki. My own daughter, Erica, had a funny nickname as a baby. It came from a neighbor child calling her Ewita-tootie. Everyone called her Tootie. We moved when she was three and that was the conscious end of Tootie. Cute at three, not so adorable as an adult. (Just the name, she is still pretty cute!)
I am sitting by my Happy Light. It is a cold and grey day. Minnesota at it's worst late autumn. I had a hard day yesterday with my folks. On Tuesday I got a call from the old man, 95, that his foot was swollen. That reminded me that the old lady asked me to make an appointment to see a lady doctor. So on my break I called the clinic and was able to make two appointments for the next day, one at ten and one at eleven. Then to call the assisted living people to have my mom ready at nine-thirty and the old man at ten-thirty. I would make two trips because there was no way the old man could be ready before ten-thirty. Then I had to tell my boss I would not be in on Wednesday.
I got the old lady, 96, to the clinic and the complaint seemed to be going away. They told her the same thing I tell her all the time, she has to actually drink some water!!!!! The burning will go away if she drinks water, or juice or tea or anything but coffee. Coffee does not hydrate. I left during her exam so I could get the old man.
He is so weak. He is very vain and does not want to use a walker, so he falls. He has finally consented to a cane. It is hard as hell to watch him die by inches. He is very caustic and a clear, nasty speaker. Yesterday I asked him if he had his teeth in because he was slurring his words. He has some congestion of the chest, too.
I had told the old lady that I would take them both out to lunch, but when they started talking x-rays and ultra sounds I took her home so she could have lunch in the dining room. She was disappointed and started to complain. She wanted to have lunch out, I said well I wanted my life back. Then she started to say she wanted to die. How I didn't say, "I do, too" I will never know. I am glad I controlled myself, though. After we got to the car she said that she was calmed down and didn't mean it. I said I was glad.
They've ordered some physical therapy for the old man. They will teach him to use the cane. They haven't called me to say whether he has pneumonia, so it is probably just a cold. It was too late for lunch at the building so I took him for an experience. I brought him to Costco. He was able to get in an electric Scooter they have and drive around looking for bargains. He realized he didn't need anything. We shared a hot dog and slice of pizza. He enjoyed it and realized that he really doesn't want to drive anymore.
In February, it will be six years since I rescued my parents from NY. The old man was in a nursing home and the old lady was isolated in an apartment in the projects. Had I left them there, both would be dead by now. My sister disapproved of what I did, but came from California to help me pack and move them. During this time I lost my job. There was one six week period that I took my father to a wound clinic three times a week. After my mother got new dentures, I brought her back to have them adjusted twenty-three times, a new dental office record. I take them out every Saturday or arrange for one of my daughters to do so.
I left home at seventeen, the last time my father beat me. Why? I hadn't gone to the doctor for a cold. For that I was kicked with steel toed boots. Over the years I had therapy. I became a parent that stopped the cycle of abuse this generation. I visited NY every year or so and that seemed to be sufficient. As they got older and more frail, I fretted about what to do. My sister said she forbid me to take them to Minnesota. I spent hours on the phone trying to get home services for them, but they had too much money for aid but not enough to get services. It was a mess.
I don't remember when, but I had a very clear message from my birth mother. She wanted me to take care of the old man and my step-mother. Because she loved him, and I loved her, I agreed. Now that the old man is on anti-depressant, he is much easier to deal with, although he can still be a very nasty bastard. At one point I was seeing a therapist to deal with the way he was able to push my buttons, calling me stupid and lazy.
My goal, all along is to be able to say when they die that I have no regrets, that I have done everything to make their last years good ones. I do not know what happens when you die, but I do not want to spend another lifetime or eternity with these particular people. I want to finish our business this life. Over these past years I have grown in patience. I can sit at a restaurant and watch them share a cup of coffee. I can watch her dip her dentures in her water glass with total equanimity. I can sit patiently while he takes an hour to eat stone cold pancakes. But a day like yesterday is very trying.
It is not the bogus complaints. It is not the time spent with them that upsets me. It is the realization that I have not come to a place of not being resentful of the time they take and how l still want to be appreciated. Nobody expected them to live six more years. I know it is me keeping them alive. They have to stay and teach me the lessons I need to learn until I get it right. I look at myself, I want a job in the helping area. I want to join the Peace Corps when I retire. But right here, right now, I have a volunteer job in service to others. It is hard to look the mirror of my hypocrisy.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Something is screwed up.
Something is out of kilter. We seem to have gone wrong.
It offends me that retailers make their employees work on Thanksgiving. I understand essential services such as hospitals, fire, police, snow plowers. I even understand the mini mart for gas and whipped cream. But does Dollar Tree need to be open? Does Sears and Wal-Mart? Isn't this our national day of celebrating family and friends. Isn't this a time for time off with our families and friends?
My coworkers and I asked each other if we went out at 3 AM for Black Friday bargains. None of us had. I said there was nothing I wanted bad enough to go stand in line in the cold for. Then I changed my answer. I said I would shop in the middle of the night if I could get world peace. Sharon thought that most people wouldn't get out of bed even for that.
Today I demonstrated a Keurig coffee system. This is one of the single cup coffee makers that use little cups of coffee grounds to make one perfect cup of coffee. I can see it in an office where you offer clients a fresh cup of coffee. It is a nifty device, very clean and super easy to use... but. Yeah, but it costs a whole bunch for convenience. No grounds to clean up, no filters to replace. But how much time are we trading hard earned pay for? I can make a cup of Swiss Miss cocoa for about fifteen cents. Boil the water, dump the mix in a cup and then add water. Use a Keurig kcup and get it for at least fifty cents and under a minute. I am not afraid to clean a few grounds. One man complained that it couldn't be tied to a water line. He was upset that he would have to fill the reservoir. I kept pushing the ecological reusable filter cup that can be used with any coffee or tea.
At six o'clock, Sharon, Nita, Kathy, and I cleaned up. I had used six pitchers of water for the coffee demonstration and after refilling them a few hours before I had to dump four pitchers of clean water. It occurred to me how hard some people had to work for water that I was throwing away, how many miles they had to carry water from not so clean sources and here I was just dumping it down the drain. There was no way I could send it over to poor people. Sharon was pretty upset that she had to dispose of an unopened case of Tropicana Juice. There was nothing wrong with it but it had sat on her cart for two hours and could not be returned. OK, but it could not be given away. I would gladly have run it over to a shelter, but no. We couldn't take it home either. That would be stealing. How is it stealing if it was paid for?
Then I watched the news. Did you see the man who was almost trampled at the Buffalo Target? Did you see anyone trying to help him up? I saw people rushing past him to get their bargains and it made me sick. I have lived frugally for many years. My daughters went to school looking as slick as the rich kids because I am a bargain hunter extraordinaire. But there is nothing available in any store that would tempt me to abandon my humanity. It is just stuff and I wonder what those pushing, shoving people will think when they see themselves on the news. I hope it makes them as ashamed of themselves as I was for them, and that they will take a hard look at the hysteria they bought into.
On a lighter note, my bathroom is full of shredded toilet paper. The boys have figured out that I put it in a basket on the back of the toilet and have knocked it over. It can't stay on the holder because they unroll it. Pretty soon I am going to have to hang it from the ceiling. What good kitties!
It offends me that retailers make their employees work on Thanksgiving. I understand essential services such as hospitals, fire, police, snow plowers. I even understand the mini mart for gas and whipped cream. But does Dollar Tree need to be open? Does Sears and Wal-Mart? Isn't this our national day of celebrating family and friends. Isn't this a time for time off with our families and friends?
My coworkers and I asked each other if we went out at 3 AM for Black Friday bargains. None of us had. I said there was nothing I wanted bad enough to go stand in line in the cold for. Then I changed my answer. I said I would shop in the middle of the night if I could get world peace. Sharon thought that most people wouldn't get out of bed even for that.
Today I demonstrated a Keurig coffee system. This is one of the single cup coffee makers that use little cups of coffee grounds to make one perfect cup of coffee. I can see it in an office where you offer clients a fresh cup of coffee. It is a nifty device, very clean and super easy to use... but. Yeah, but it costs a whole bunch for convenience. No grounds to clean up, no filters to replace. But how much time are we trading hard earned pay for? I can make a cup of Swiss Miss cocoa for about fifteen cents. Boil the water, dump the mix in a cup and then add water. Use a Keurig kcup and get it for at least fifty cents and under a minute. I am not afraid to clean a few grounds. One man complained that it couldn't be tied to a water line. He was upset that he would have to fill the reservoir. I kept pushing the ecological reusable filter cup that can be used with any coffee or tea.
At six o'clock, Sharon, Nita, Kathy, and I cleaned up. I had used six pitchers of water for the coffee demonstration and after refilling them a few hours before I had to dump four pitchers of clean water. It occurred to me how hard some people had to work for water that I was throwing away, how many miles they had to carry water from not so clean sources and here I was just dumping it down the drain. There was no way I could send it over to poor people. Sharon was pretty upset that she had to dispose of an unopened case of Tropicana Juice. There was nothing wrong with it but it had sat on her cart for two hours and could not be returned. OK, but it could not be given away. I would gladly have run it over to a shelter, but no. We couldn't take it home either. That would be stealing. How is it stealing if it was paid for?
Then I watched the news. Did you see the man who was almost trampled at the Buffalo Target? Did you see anyone trying to help him up? I saw people rushing past him to get their bargains and it made me sick. I have lived frugally for many years. My daughters went to school looking as slick as the rich kids because I am a bargain hunter extraordinaire. But there is nothing available in any store that would tempt me to abandon my humanity. It is just stuff and I wonder what those pushing, shoving people will think when they see themselves on the news. I hope it makes them as ashamed of themselves as I was for them, and that they will take a hard look at the hysteria they bought into.
On a lighter note, my bathroom is full of shredded toilet paper. The boys have figured out that I put it in a basket on the back of the toilet and have knocked it over. It can't stay on the holder because they unroll it. Pretty soon I am going to have to hang it from the ceiling. What good kitties!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Bean salad, an easy decision, a hard balance
Today I was hawking Paisley Farm 100% natural four bean salad. "If you like 3 bean salad, you'll love a fourth bean. $5.39 for a half gallon jar. You can throw half away and still come out ahead because you can't make it for this price. And you still have a jar to collect buttons." Oh, I was quite amusing and think I probably made my 25 jar quota. I did notice one thing though, people either love bean salad or hate it. There just is no middle ground.
It was funny to be calling out about the bean salad and see the reactions. People would come running over to sample it or they would visibly shudder. I am of the shuddering group and had no trouble commiserating with those who dislike it. I was very frank when people asked me what I thought of it. I said that people seemed to love it but I had a real dislike for canned green beans, my mother used to boil them.
I spoke with a number of women and told one to get herself a small portion from a regular deli if she liked it. There was no reason she couldn't enjoy something just because her husband didn't. I told her to treat herself better and she really seemed to appreciate it. On the other hand I told a woman who hated it but her husband liked it to either buy a small amount for himself or go to a restaurant.
There were foods my husband liked that I did not, such as beets and winter squash. On rare occasions I would prepare them. There are things that I like that nobody else in my family would eat, such as pickled herring or smoked salmon and whitefish. I wouldn't buy a jar of herring just for myself.
Over the years my husband and I grew apart in interests. He was a bike racer and when the children were young we attended many races. I liked art things and reading and being a stay at home mother. I went back to school and when we started the business I took a banquet server job to provide an income while we were working towards future success. I worked long crazy hours and was always tired and my feet hurt all the time.
My husband was a very talented semiprofessional singer and joined many choirs. I was tired and jealous of all the outside interests while our business limped along. I didn't know how to have fun. In later years, while I was working for the labor council, the most fun I had was marching through a Wal-Mart. I laughed with such abandon. We used to love to dance and I would laugh and laugh.
What does all this have to do with bean salad? I should have done more to enjoy my life. I should have bought and done things that brought me pleasure, (not bean salad, though) and I shouldn't have sent him off to find his own fun. I should have worked harder to provide pleasure at home and he should have worked harder including me in his interests. We both should have prioritized having fun together.
But all this is water under the bridge. What I want to convey is for couples to do things together, to try to accommodate each other's taste. You don't have to agree on bean salad, each person has their own tastes. But one doesn't have to give up one's own preferences to be a good spouse. And I bet, if asked, the other spouse doesn't want you to anyway. Go ahead and eat your bean salad if that is what you want. Surprise the other one with something they like that you don't. It is the little things that show self respect, and respect for the other that make a successful relationship, a balance of likes and dislikes and a fondness for creating happiness.
It was funny to be calling out about the bean salad and see the reactions. People would come running over to sample it or they would visibly shudder. I am of the shuddering group and had no trouble commiserating with those who dislike it. I was very frank when people asked me what I thought of it. I said that people seemed to love it but I had a real dislike for canned green beans, my mother used to boil them.
I spoke with a number of women and told one to get herself a small portion from a regular deli if she liked it. There was no reason she couldn't enjoy something just because her husband didn't. I told her to treat herself better and she really seemed to appreciate it. On the other hand I told a woman who hated it but her husband liked it to either buy a small amount for himself or go to a restaurant.
There were foods my husband liked that I did not, such as beets and winter squash. On rare occasions I would prepare them. There are things that I like that nobody else in my family would eat, such as pickled herring or smoked salmon and whitefish. I wouldn't buy a jar of herring just for myself.
Over the years my husband and I grew apart in interests. He was a bike racer and when the children were young we attended many races. I liked art things and reading and being a stay at home mother. I went back to school and when we started the business I took a banquet server job to provide an income while we were working towards future success. I worked long crazy hours and was always tired and my feet hurt all the time.
My husband was a very talented semiprofessional singer and joined many choirs. I was tired and jealous of all the outside interests while our business limped along. I didn't know how to have fun. In later years, while I was working for the labor council, the most fun I had was marching through a Wal-Mart. I laughed with such abandon. We used to love to dance and I would laugh and laugh.
What does all this have to do with bean salad? I should have done more to enjoy my life. I should have bought and done things that brought me pleasure, (not bean salad, though) and I shouldn't have sent him off to find his own fun. I should have worked harder to provide pleasure at home and he should have worked harder including me in his interests. We both should have prioritized having fun together.
But all this is water under the bridge. What I want to convey is for couples to do things together, to try to accommodate each other's taste. You don't have to agree on bean salad, each person has their own tastes. But one doesn't have to give up one's own preferences to be a good spouse. And I bet, if asked, the other spouse doesn't want you to anyway. Go ahead and eat your bean salad if that is what you want. Surprise the other one with something they like that you don't. It is the little things that show self respect, and respect for the other that make a successful relationship, a balance of likes and dislikes and a fondness for creating happiness.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Great Big Reality Check
I joined a wonderful health and fitness center and have made a financial commitment to getting in better shape. No excuses, there are classes in everything from aerobics to Zumba. On Tuesday, I tried water exercise before work and afterwards felt quite energetic for the rest of the day. On Wednesday, I had a one on one meeting with a personal trainer. She did a health assessment, taking measurements, (don't ask, I won't tell) and setting goals. I was really honest and didn't just say what I thought she wanted to hear. There is no way I would drive all the way down there to work out on the machines and weights by myself, not even for a half hour. I'm a social person and need others to motivate me with someone leading the way. Trouble is, after the first session, personal trainers are not free. So classes it is. Which brings us to yesterday. Oy!
Since I didn't have to be in to work until noon, I decided to try Forever Fit Strength, "Our famous low impact exercise class designed to improve muscle tone, strengthen the heart and lungs, and burn away calories. Very popular with exercisers over 50 but is open to everyone." I'm 58, sounds perfect, no little chickies. I entered the studio to find I was in the company of old people. I had to have been the youngest one there by at least ten years. I introduced myself to the instructor and told her I have exercised induced asthma and didn't have an inhaler with me. (I'm having a physical on Saturday morning.) She told me they started out slow and to do what I could, take breaks when necessary. I took up a position a few rows back so I wouldn't be in front of the mirror and off we went. Sandy took us through quite an energetic warm up, no problem. Then we started working with hand weights and I was still OK. Then she took up the pace and I thought I would die. I lasted exactly fifteen of the forty-five minutes. It did feel weird to have to leave a room full of people much older than me who were keeping up. ("If you have a hip replacement, do this one straight on.")
Although I tried to avoid the mirror, it was impossible. The room was all mirrors and I got a really good sideways view. I laughingly refer to myself as round but muscular. That isn't quite right. Barrel shaped would be more accurate. I am not one of those people with a large middle and skinny legs. Nope, big middle, big thighs, and powerfully big calves. I am mostly in proportion, except for my middle. Problem is the the proportions are too big.
As I was getting dressed, another woman stepped on the scales. There is a digital readout that I was close enough to see. In my mind, I was built much the same, but she weighed thirty pounds less. Whoa, reality check! I do not look like I think I do, much less like I want to. I am not as strong as I assumed I was. Big muscles do not mean a thing if the most important muscle is out of shape. I see that my priority has to be strengthening my heart. I will do that while strengthening and improving all the other muscles.
I used to belong to Curves and went every other day for a couple of years. The repetition of music and workouts bored me to tears. I didn't have a buddy, basically I was on my own with other people on their own. I lost twenty pounds and it took two years to put it back on and another three to add another ten. Clearly I have my work cut out to get back down to chubby.
Why will this time be different? Will I make the connection, as poor Oprah, the human yo-yo espouses? I can't look at the big picture or the time commitment needed (the rest of my life) or I get defeated before I begin. I can look at the small picture. There are so many good classes, Tai Chi for balance, Zumba for fun that I won't be bored.
I guess I should go back to bed for awhile. Water aerobics at 8:30 and a full day of work at ten. No pie in the sky (or on my plate). I have had a reality check and need to get real.
Since I didn't have to be in to work until noon, I decided to try Forever Fit Strength, "Our famous low impact exercise class designed to improve muscle tone, strengthen the heart and lungs, and burn away calories. Very popular with exercisers over 50 but is open to everyone." I'm 58, sounds perfect, no little chickies. I entered the studio to find I was in the company of old people. I had to have been the youngest one there by at least ten years. I introduced myself to the instructor and told her I have exercised induced asthma and didn't have an inhaler with me. (I'm having a physical on Saturday morning.) She told me they started out slow and to do what I could, take breaks when necessary. I took up a position a few rows back so I wouldn't be in front of the mirror and off we went. Sandy took us through quite an energetic warm up, no problem. Then we started working with hand weights and I was still OK. Then she took up the pace and I thought I would die. I lasted exactly fifteen of the forty-five minutes. It did feel weird to have to leave a room full of people much older than me who were keeping up. ("If you have a hip replacement, do this one straight on.")
Although I tried to avoid the mirror, it was impossible. The room was all mirrors and I got a really good sideways view. I laughingly refer to myself as round but muscular. That isn't quite right. Barrel shaped would be more accurate. I am not one of those people with a large middle and skinny legs. Nope, big middle, big thighs, and powerfully big calves. I am mostly in proportion, except for my middle. Problem is the the proportions are too big.
As I was getting dressed, another woman stepped on the scales. There is a digital readout that I was close enough to see. In my mind, I was built much the same, but she weighed thirty pounds less. Whoa, reality check! I do not look like I think I do, much less like I want to. I am not as strong as I assumed I was. Big muscles do not mean a thing if the most important muscle is out of shape. I see that my priority has to be strengthening my heart. I will do that while strengthening and improving all the other muscles.
I used to belong to Curves and went every other day for a couple of years. The repetition of music and workouts bored me to tears. I didn't have a buddy, basically I was on my own with other people on their own. I lost twenty pounds and it took two years to put it back on and another three to add another ten. Clearly I have my work cut out to get back down to chubby.
Why will this time be different? Will I make the connection, as poor Oprah, the human yo-yo espouses? I can't look at the big picture or the time commitment needed (the rest of my life) or I get defeated before I begin. I can look at the small picture. There are so many good classes, Tai Chi for balance, Zumba for fun that I won't be bored.
I guess I should go back to bed for awhile. Water aerobics at 8:30 and a full day of work at ten. No pie in the sky (or on my plate). I have had a reality check and need to get real.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
3:33, I kick the cat
I awoke at 3:33 on the clock. Something was biting my ankle, nip, nip. I reached down and brought Little Mister Mischief up to cuddle. He sniffed my face and put his little paw on my arm. Aw, isn't he cute? Soon he walked back down the bed and I was almost asleep again when I felt another nip on my ankle, a big one. Yow! I kicked the cat. Yes, I flung him off my leg. That really hurt!
Lately, we had cooler weather and I made up a warm bed. Pure cotton sheet on the bottom with a very light and velvety fleece blanket used as a top sheet and a brand new, light, down-alternative quilt. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Then a few warm days had me sleeping with my legs out again; not so lovely to find them being bitten by the kitten.
So I got up and followed Little Mr. He was standing in the kitchen waiting for me. When he had my attention he walked over to his bowl and stood up on his hind feet. So I put one small scoop of kitten chow in his bowl. He looked down, and I could feel him thinking, "That's it? Where is the good stuff?" He gave me the that blue eyed Siamese stare and started to walk away. Uh, uh, kitty; you woke me up, chew on this. I put him back by the bowl, he shrugged his shoulders and dug right in with gusto.
This is the time for analogy. I know what it reminds me of in my life. I wonder what it means to you. (Hungry cat, feed the damn thing, I know, I know.)
Lately, we had cooler weather and I made up a warm bed. Pure cotton sheet on the bottom with a very light and velvety fleece blanket used as a top sheet and a brand new, light, down-alternative quilt. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Then a few warm days had me sleeping with my legs out again; not so lovely to find them being bitten by the kitten.
So I got up and followed Little Mr. He was standing in the kitchen waiting for me. When he had my attention he walked over to his bowl and stood up on his hind feet. So I put one small scoop of kitten chow in his bowl. He looked down, and I could feel him thinking, "That's it? Where is the good stuff?" He gave me the that blue eyed Siamese stare and started to walk away. Uh, uh, kitty; you woke me up, chew on this. I put him back by the bowl, he shrugged his shoulders and dug right in with gusto.
This is the time for analogy. I know what it reminds me of in my life. I wonder what it means to you. (Hungry cat, feed the damn thing, I know, I know.)
Monday, November 8, 2010
The watcher within
I just wrote a blog about someone who I think is abusing the system. I was full of righteous indignation. I talked about how I try to practice compassion and try not to judge but, talking points 1, 2, and 3....
I had to deal with something and when I got back to the computer I realized I was just using excuses to be mean spirited because I was jealous. We each have our own history and karma and pointing a finger does not make me better.
Oh, I wanted to continue the rant. I really did. The watcher within showed me exactly what I was doing and I had to stop. The watcher within saw how I can deal with this situation and that is by trying to understand the unhappiness in their life and seeing the benefit of their actions in a larger world view as they become more positive.
It is hard to be as mean and petty as I want to be when the better me is always watching.
(On the other hand, the watcher within loves to laugh, dance, and have silly fun and thinks I look ten years younger when I am having a good time.)
I had to deal with something and when I got back to the computer I realized I was just using excuses to be mean spirited because I was jealous. We each have our own history and karma and pointing a finger does not make me better.
Oh, I wanted to continue the rant. I really did. The watcher within showed me exactly what I was doing and I had to stop. The watcher within saw how I can deal with this situation and that is by trying to understand the unhappiness in their life and seeing the benefit of their actions in a larger world view as they become more positive.
It is hard to be as mean and petty as I want to be when the better me is always watching.
(On the other hand, the watcher within loves to laugh, dance, and have silly fun and thinks I look ten years younger when I am having a good time.)
Saturday, November 6, 2010
False Eyelashes
OK, I can't get the damn things on, my own short lashes are gunked up with glue. I'm sweating, makeup is melting, oh I am not so good at this girlie stuff. Funny thing is that I used to be an expert. Mary Quant and Twiggie, I did the whole thing. Then I became a hippie, no makeup. Just a natural beauty.
Well, the glue is now dried and I can begin again. At my age, I need all the help I can get. But no false eyelashes. Maybe I'll wear a Wonder Bra instead. (But not on my eyes). Yep, a real natural beauty.
I couldn't find a good YouTube version but here are the lyrics to a great song.
LOU REED
LOVE IS CHEMICAL
When I see the way you paint your lips
and I smell your perfume
when I see the brand new color
that you've dyed your hair, too
I know, you know, it's more than physical
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
Well I know the saying goes
that all in love and war is fair
but I've never stood a chance
against your chemical warfare
The polish on your fingernails
mascara on your eyes
the lotion you rub on at night
to make sure your hands ain't dry
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
(My, my, my love is chemical)
(my, my, my love is chemical)
I know, I know, it's more than physical, hey baby
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
Well I hope that you won't take offense
it's not that you're not pretty
it's only that I feel like
I'm in love with test tube city
I know with you, I'm on the pinnacle
I'm on the pinnacle, babe
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
we're not just talking physical desire here
(My, my, my love is chemical)
(my, my, my love is chemical)
I know with you, it's more than physical
much more than just carnal lust
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
My, my love, oh, love is chemical
my, my, my love is chemical
It's so much more than physical, honey
it's much more than physical
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
My, my, my, my love is chemical
hey baby, my, my, my, my love is chemical
So much more than physical, honey, why don't you come here
my love is chemical
I'd like to communicate with you directly
my love is chemical
So much more than physical
Well, the glue is now dried and I can begin again. At my age, I need all the help I can get. But no false eyelashes. Maybe I'll wear a Wonder Bra instead. (But not on my eyes). Yep, a real natural beauty.
I couldn't find a good YouTube version but here are the lyrics to a great song.
LOU REED
LOVE IS CHEMICAL
When I see the way you paint your lips
and I smell your perfume
when I see the brand new color
that you've dyed your hair, too
I know, you know, it's more than physical
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
Well I know the saying goes
that all in love and war is fair
but I've never stood a chance
against your chemical warfare
The polish on your fingernails
mascara on your eyes
the lotion you rub on at night
to make sure your hands ain't dry
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
(My, my, my love is chemical)
(my, my, my love is chemical)
I know, I know, it's more than physical, hey baby
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
Well I hope that you won't take offense
it's not that you're not pretty
it's only that I feel like
I'm in love with test tube city
I know with you, I'm on the pinnacle
I'm on the pinnacle, babe
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
we're not just talking physical desire here
(My, my, my love is chemical)
(my, my, my love is chemical)
I know with you, it's more than physical
much more than just carnal lust
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
My, my love, oh, love is chemical
my, my, my love is chemical
It's so much more than physical, honey
it's much more than physical
My love, my love, my love, love is chemical
My, my, my, my love is chemical
hey baby, my, my, my, my love is chemical
So much more than physical, honey, why don't you come here
my love is chemical
I'd like to communicate with you directly
my love is chemical
So much more than physical
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Great day for change
It is not enough to whine and bitch about my life. It even bores ME. But how does one change? First thinking and then doing. Make plans and try to keep them but make plans rather than lie in bed. Today is a busy day for me and I'm home for just an hour between things.
7 AM, get up, make bed, take shower, get dressed, check email, eat apple.
9 AM, oil change.
9:45, credit union
10:00, Jimmy Johns for the best BLT with sprouts
10:15 vote!
10:30 visit JCC (Jewish Community Center) get tour and apply for scholarship.
This summer I enjoyed the outdoor pool at the condo nearly every day. I noodled around and felt better for having moved limbs about. I also met my neighbors and had fun conversations. There is a very good exercise room here with Precor equipment but gosh it is hard to go that few feet down the hall and around the corner to use it. In the course of work I talked to one man who told me that the best pool in the city was at the JCC. Then I talked to a woman who told me about the water aerobics class there and that they had a sliding scale for fees. She encouraged me to apply for a scholarship.
Exercise is hard for me, getting to it and keeping my interest. I am so very easily bored. I don't like to do it on my own. I am a social creature. I am also fat and out of shape. The condo is literally situated between Bally's and the city recreation center. Yet I do nothing. The woman at work told me about the water classes at JCC. They are from 8:30 to 9:15, on my way to work at 10. Today the membership guy told me they use a special filtration system that uses very little chlorine in the pool.
I have often said that if I make effort, Grace is there to do the rest. All I needed to do was prove my need, (check stub and bank balance) and I was accepted. It won't be free, but it won't hurt either. When we walked over to the exercise wing we looked into a Zumba class. I can't wait to get started. I am excited to take cultural classes and meet new people. Part of the marriage dissolving has been the trying to create new community and to some extent I have succeeded.
Now, the next little step is sending out lots and lots of resumes again. I know if I make the effort, there is Grace to help me.
12:30 pick up the thousand year old parents to go vote.
7 AM, get up, make bed, take shower, get dressed, check email, eat apple.
9 AM, oil change.
9:45, credit union
10:00, Jimmy Johns for the best BLT with sprouts
10:15 vote!
10:30 visit JCC (Jewish Community Center) get tour and apply for scholarship.
This summer I enjoyed the outdoor pool at the condo nearly every day. I noodled around and felt better for having moved limbs about. I also met my neighbors and had fun conversations. There is a very good exercise room here with Precor equipment but gosh it is hard to go that few feet down the hall and around the corner to use it. In the course of work I talked to one man who told me that the best pool in the city was at the JCC. Then I talked to a woman who told me about the water aerobics class there and that they had a sliding scale for fees. She encouraged me to apply for a scholarship.
Exercise is hard for me, getting to it and keeping my interest. I am so very easily bored. I don't like to do it on my own. I am a social creature. I am also fat and out of shape. The condo is literally situated between Bally's and the city recreation center. Yet I do nothing. The woman at work told me about the water classes at JCC. They are from 8:30 to 9:15, on my way to work at 10. Today the membership guy told me they use a special filtration system that uses very little chlorine in the pool.
I have often said that if I make effort, Grace is there to do the rest. All I needed to do was prove my need, (check stub and bank balance) and I was accepted. It won't be free, but it won't hurt either. When we walked over to the exercise wing we looked into a Zumba class. I can't wait to get started. I am excited to take cultural classes and meet new people. Part of the marriage dissolving has been the trying to create new community and to some extent I have succeeded.
Now, the next little step is sending out lots and lots of resumes again. I know if I make the effort, there is Grace to help me.
12:30 pick up the thousand year old parents to go vote.
Friday, October 29, 2010
In the path of hate
Today I was working as a breaker. That is going from station to station relieving the demonstrators. Gelato was wonderful but pork loin not so much. Anyway I was standing there saying "Pork loin, $2.19 a pound, great on the grill" and such when a middle aged couple comes up and says, "What's that?" "Pork loin," I answer, "Would you like to try some?" Many people say thank you, or no thank you, or ask about sodium or say they don't eat meat. Fine, I don't care, eat what you want. I have never had anything like this happen, though.
The man started to pound his chest and scream, "Allah akbar, Allah akbar! I don't eat pork!!" I see thousands of people each day and the muslims are always polite asking if the pizza or whatever has pork. Never that kind of ridicule. I said, "Please sir, can you be a little sensitive? We have many Muslim people working here and also customers." He started shouting at me and sending hate my way and so did his wife. His final rant was that I would probably vote for Mark Dayton. I turned away from him and gave him no more energy but it was scary to be in the path of so much hate.
I was shaking for a little while but people were so nice and friendly, clearly embarrassed by the way these Americans acted and I soon got over it in time to go relieve the Waffle Fries lady. But I couldn't help thinking about these people on and off for the rest of the day?
What did that man accomplish? Did he accomplish anything remotely positive with his sarcastic, hateful rant? Is the world a better place for his being alive?
I don't think spewing hate and degradation on any religion makes my beliefs more valid. It might attract other haters but it didn't attract others to his cause. It made people around him uncomfortable, and as one woman remarked, it put a hateful energy into the atmosphere.
Unless there is something one can do to improve a situation, screaming about it is not enough. Ridiculing Muslims is no way to make friends and influence enemies. It just made him look like the fear filled ignorant person he is. He did not make the world a safer place at all.
I am so proud of not arguing with him, of quickly disengaging. I said what needed to be said and then ignored him. Clearly nothing I would say would be of any use. Right after I went to the next station, a coworker came by to criticize how I was doing something telling me I would get in trouble if a supervisor saw how I was putting out the pizza. I said, "Give me a break, I can't live in fear." And that is the crux of it. Yes there are Muslim extremists. Yes they have done and continue to do some awful things, no doubt about it. But I will not condemn millions of people for following their hearts and worshipping as they please. There are extremists all over spreading hate in God's name.
People of faith know that the Creator doesn't work that way. You can say you are doing God's work, but unless you are doing it with love, all you are doing is spreading fear.
I chose not to live in fear. I choose to live as a positive person who tries to keep the personal space I live in as a positive port. Let my actions, thoughts, and words comfort others and let others find comfort in my presence.
The man started to pound his chest and scream, "Allah akbar, Allah akbar! I don't eat pork!!" I see thousands of people each day and the muslims are always polite asking if the pizza or whatever has pork. Never that kind of ridicule. I said, "Please sir, can you be a little sensitive? We have many Muslim people working here and also customers." He started shouting at me and sending hate my way and so did his wife. His final rant was that I would probably vote for Mark Dayton. I turned away from him and gave him no more energy but it was scary to be in the path of so much hate.
I was shaking for a little while but people were so nice and friendly, clearly embarrassed by the way these Americans acted and I soon got over it in time to go relieve the Waffle Fries lady. But I couldn't help thinking about these people on and off for the rest of the day?
What did that man accomplish? Did he accomplish anything remotely positive with his sarcastic, hateful rant? Is the world a better place for his being alive?
I don't think spewing hate and degradation on any religion makes my beliefs more valid. It might attract other haters but it didn't attract others to his cause. It made people around him uncomfortable, and as one woman remarked, it put a hateful energy into the atmosphere.
Unless there is something one can do to improve a situation, screaming about it is not enough. Ridiculing Muslims is no way to make friends and influence enemies. It just made him look like the fear filled ignorant person he is. He did not make the world a safer place at all.
I am so proud of not arguing with him, of quickly disengaging. I said what needed to be said and then ignored him. Clearly nothing I would say would be of any use. Right after I went to the next station, a coworker came by to criticize how I was doing something telling me I would get in trouble if a supervisor saw how I was putting out the pizza. I said, "Give me a break, I can't live in fear." And that is the crux of it. Yes there are Muslim extremists. Yes they have done and continue to do some awful things, no doubt about it. But I will not condemn millions of people for following their hearts and worshipping as they please. There are extremists all over spreading hate in God's name.
People of faith know that the Creator doesn't work that way. You can say you are doing God's work, but unless you are doing it with love, all you are doing is spreading fear.
I chose not to live in fear. I choose to live as a positive person who tries to keep the personal space I live in as a positive port. Let my actions, thoughts, and words comfort others and let others find comfort in my presence.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Clearing the air
Today I was able to get rid of some negative stuff that has been bothering me for quite awhile. Short story, after I lost my job, a colleague in the same exact position but in another city retired. I applied for her job and got back a letter saying they would not interview me because I didn't have enough experience. I was livid. I'd been doing the job for over 4 years. I thought the man in charge was doing it on purpose to hurt me.
I was demonstrating raisin bread toast and butter today and a man walked by and said he recognized my voice. I recognized his face and asked his name. It was the man who did not interview me. He asked whether I worked there. (Duh, I come in and make toast for strangers for fun.) I was able to say that it was his decision to hire anyone he wanted for that position but quite hurtful to get a letter saying I didn't have enough experience. He apologized and said the letter could have been worded better, but he only interviewed two people.
And then it was over. That string tying me to a past resentment came undone and I am free of bad feelings toward this person. It is over. Should I have let sleeping dogs lie? Not when the last time he saw me I was in a position of power and now I am doing menial labor. I am glad I said something, I am glad to have an apology. Nothing has changed except my perception of an event and it no longer has the power to hurt.
It does make me wonder how many little hurts we carry inside and don't even realize the harm they do to our psyche? I freely give them up, I don't want them anymore! The problem is that many are so deeply hidden. There is almost a fear that if I start to dig them up I will fall in the hole. So maybe it is more like zits. The poison is under the skin and works it's way up to a point of exposure. It is ugly and hurtful but once on the surface it can heal.
I've always been lucky with good skin and dealt with blemishes as they appeared. So, too, with living.
I was demonstrating raisin bread toast and butter today and a man walked by and said he recognized my voice. I recognized his face and asked his name. It was the man who did not interview me. He asked whether I worked there. (Duh, I come in and make toast for strangers for fun.) I was able to say that it was his decision to hire anyone he wanted for that position but quite hurtful to get a letter saying I didn't have enough experience. He apologized and said the letter could have been worded better, but he only interviewed two people.
And then it was over. That string tying me to a past resentment came undone and I am free of bad feelings toward this person. It is over. Should I have let sleeping dogs lie? Not when the last time he saw me I was in a position of power and now I am doing menial labor. I am glad I said something, I am glad to have an apology. Nothing has changed except my perception of an event and it no longer has the power to hurt.
It does make me wonder how many little hurts we carry inside and don't even realize the harm they do to our psyche? I freely give them up, I don't want them anymore! The problem is that many are so deeply hidden. There is almost a fear that if I start to dig them up I will fall in the hole. So maybe it is more like zits. The poison is under the skin and works it's way up to a point of exposure. It is ugly and hurtful but once on the surface it can heal.
I've always been lucky with good skin and dealt with blemishes as they appeared. So, too, with living.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
For humans with breasts
I just came back from my annual mammogram and I feel good. A little smushed, but that is a small price to pay for early detection of breast cancer.
Lately there has been conflicting news about when women should start getting mammograms. Here is the low down that I got from the technician:
History of breast cancer in mother- ten years before it was detected. So if your mother got breast cancer at age 40, you should get a baseline mammogram at 30.
No history, start at age 40 and yearly thereafter.
If insurance says age 50, tell them that was a bad study and the gov't says 40. If you do not have the insurance to cover a mammogram, go on the internet and find who gives low cost or free mammograms. You know all those runs and walks and fundraisers? They are for just that reason. Do not let pride or lack of money prevent you from getting checked.
My mother died of breast cancer at age 42 leaving three children and a grieving husband behind. That was in 1958. My step mother is a 31 year breast cancer survivor soon to be 97 years old. That is the difference in early detection.
Men, this is not only your lady's concern. If during lovemaking you feel a lump or something a little different, bring it to her attention and MAKE her see a doctor. Very often it is just fatty tissue or something else non-threatening. But it needs to be checked out. Check your own male breasts also. Men DO get breast cancer, if you find a lump... check it out with a doctor.
(One last thing, if you have enhancements and are worrying about that, there is technology to get an image that won't ruin your implants. Talk to your surgeon for a recommendation.)
Wishing everyone good health and long life!
Lately there has been conflicting news about when women should start getting mammograms. Here is the low down that I got from the technician:
History of breast cancer in mother- ten years before it was detected. So if your mother got breast cancer at age 40, you should get a baseline mammogram at 30.
No history, start at age 40 and yearly thereafter.
If insurance says age 50, tell them that was a bad study and the gov't says 40. If you do not have the insurance to cover a mammogram, go on the internet and find who gives low cost or free mammograms. You know all those runs and walks and fundraisers? They are for just that reason. Do not let pride or lack of money prevent you from getting checked.
My mother died of breast cancer at age 42 leaving three children and a grieving husband behind. That was in 1958. My step mother is a 31 year breast cancer survivor soon to be 97 years old. That is the difference in early detection.
Men, this is not only your lady's concern. If during lovemaking you feel a lump or something a little different, bring it to her attention and MAKE her see a doctor. Very often it is just fatty tissue or something else non-threatening. But it needs to be checked out. Check your own male breasts also. Men DO get breast cancer, if you find a lump... check it out with a doctor.
(One last thing, if you have enhancements and are worrying about that, there is technology to get an image that won't ruin your implants. Talk to your surgeon for a recommendation.)
Wishing everyone good health and long life!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Great day for shaking it like Shakira
Today was a terrific day for me. I slept as much as I wanted to, took a shower and got lots done. Flu shot, credit union, library, fed a friend's cats, and had delicious food. Then I came home to continue the fun.
There is something absolutely lovely about living alone. No one can see me if I draw the shades.
Tonight Shakira was performing on Dancing With The Stars. I tried to keep up move for move. Of course I looked like one of the dancing hippos from Fantasia, except they are a bit more graceful. Doesn't matter. She popped her pelvis, I popped my pelvis, she reached down, so did I. I was shaking it like a polaroid. (Good thing no one took a picture!)
Then I realized if I had a video of Shakira singing and dancing and I followed along, I could have a lot of aerobic fun without watching some hard body in a "routine".
Going to have to look into that, finding a Shakira video. Maybe on Netflix?
There is something absolutely lovely about living alone. No one can see me if I draw the shades.
Tonight Shakira was performing on Dancing With The Stars. I tried to keep up move for move. Of course I looked like one of the dancing hippos from Fantasia, except they are a bit more graceful. Doesn't matter. She popped her pelvis, I popped my pelvis, she reached down, so did I. I was shaking it like a polaroid. (Good thing no one took a picture!)
Then I realized if I had a video of Shakira singing and dancing and I followed along, I could have a lot of aerobic fun without watching some hard body in a "routine".
Going to have to look into that, finding a Shakira video. Maybe on Netflix?
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