Excess contemplation can lead to some interesting visions.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Enlightenment
Today is the last day of my five day protein drink/juice fast for "back to basics" and I think I did get some enlightenment. Five days of any behavior isn't going to make lasting change, but what it did do was give me a health goal that I could accomplish right now, this very week. And I really needed it now.
What's funny, is that many people assumed I was "struggling" with eating and that's why I went back to basics. That was not the case, I just wanted to do the exercise. Kind of like extra credit in a tough class. I always did those too.
Even though the movies favor big WOW moments with a full orchestra, most of life's accomplishments are bits and pieces of little things that add up for better or worse.
What's funny, is that many people assumed I was "struggling" with eating and that's why I went back to basics. That was not the case, I just wanted to do the exercise. Kind of like extra credit in a tough class. I always did those too.
Even though the movies favor big WOW moments with a full orchestra, most of life's accomplishments are bits and pieces of little things that add up for better or worse.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz......
Sometimes the anticipation of a thing is worse than the thing itself. Today's task-get John into the Geriatric Psyche program, with clothes and utensils. Added difficulty-he freaks out when you pack, I have no idea why. So I am just going to go buy a satchel of clothes for him to take-he needs new clothes anyway.
I'm hoping that I'll be able to sleep tonight-I haven't slept well in some time. I'd like to shuttle all the doglets off to the kennel, but then I'd never get out of bed at all. At least the weather is nice and I can take a dog with me today.
Greta likes car work the best, so she's the chosen one. She'll be thrilled!
I'm hoping that I'll be able to sleep tonight-I haven't slept well in some time. I'd like to shuttle all the doglets off to the kennel, but then I'd never get out of bed at all. At least the weather is nice and I can take a dog with me today.
Greta likes car work the best, so she's the chosen one. She'll be thrilled!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Off to See the Wizard
No snakes to rescue today, just a lot of waiting for Dr.'s and such. Uncle John was spotted trying to brush his teeth with a razor, so they decided that we needed no further recommendations for some good old psych eval. I made my position clear-I wanted him comfortable and happy-if he needs some good old medicinal marijuana or whatever, FINE. Let him light up and relax.
I am really disappointed in the neurologist, who is only concerned with shaking hands and stumbling. I'd rather he be unable to walk if he could enjoy a good TV program.
I will also take him to be evaluated, I don't want him "swept away". When the only thing left is just to be there for someone, that's what you do. I've often thought of becoming a hospice worker, which is really kind of odd. When something beloved dies, I go nuts with grief. Hell, I get misty eyed thinking of dogs who have passed.
My background as troubled teen, mother of troubled teen uniquely qualifies me to transport Uncle John to the nut hatch for evaluation. I'm just really good with crazy people, what can I say. Crazy people are far more interesting and honest than sane ones.
Why, it was only a week ago that I drove up suddenly on the site of a former mental incarceration. Later, and ex was on the burn ward of the same institution and what I remember most was the eyes of a badly burned man and going downstairs to pick up the ex's tranquilizers and taking two right at the counter. "I need them worse than he does right now" I explained.
The man was burned over 90% of his body and was being treated in the tubroom while I was being trained in the fine art of wound debriding. We made eye contact, and I didn't look away, but smiled. The gratitude in his eyes made mine mist over. By keeping eye contact and smiling, I acknowledged the human being trapped inside the wrecked flesh.
I was relieved when I heard he had passed away, because that is what he told me he wanted in that moment. But I was also proud that I could still see the man inside the carnage, and I've made it habit to look for that ever since.
I am really disappointed in the neurologist, who is only concerned with shaking hands and stumbling. I'd rather he be unable to walk if he could enjoy a good TV program.
I will also take him to be evaluated, I don't want him "swept away". When the only thing left is just to be there for someone, that's what you do. I've often thought of becoming a hospice worker, which is really kind of odd. When something beloved dies, I go nuts with grief. Hell, I get misty eyed thinking of dogs who have passed.
My background as troubled teen, mother of troubled teen uniquely qualifies me to transport Uncle John to the nut hatch for evaluation. I'm just really good with crazy people, what can I say. Crazy people are far more interesting and honest than sane ones.
Why, it was only a week ago that I drove up suddenly on the site of a former mental incarceration. Later, and ex was on the burn ward of the same institution and what I remember most was the eyes of a badly burned man and going downstairs to pick up the ex's tranquilizers and taking two right at the counter. "I need them worse than he does right now" I explained.
The man was burned over 90% of his body and was being treated in the tubroom while I was being trained in the fine art of wound debriding. We made eye contact, and I didn't look away, but smiled. The gratitude in his eyes made mine mist over. By keeping eye contact and smiling, I acknowledged the human being trapped inside the wrecked flesh.
I was relieved when I heard he had passed away, because that is what he told me he wanted in that moment. But I was also proud that I could still see the man inside the carnage, and I've made it habit to look for that ever since.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Motherf********* Snakes on a Tree
I heard a thumping that sounded like someone breaking a window in the snake room. I went in, and Bette was in her cage. I tapped on the glass and I heard her heaving breath. She didn't bring her head over to the glass as she always did.
Something was wrong, but what?
Bette heaved herself around again, and her little branch smashed against the glass. Bette was stuck in her own tree branch. Wedged, hopelessly wedged. And snake things are strictly my own personal problem. Even one I'm very fond of, and especially Bette who is the biggest.
So, I get Bette's head in one hand and the tree branch in the other, and get her out into the room for a look. She's stuck, not bleeding, probably tired and scared. So I tried to pull her backwards, while holding onto her head and trying not to break her neck. She didn't think much of the idea.
"Bette" I reassured her, "I'll be right back" (You do realize snakes can't hear right?)
I came back with my supplies-one glove, one buck knife, the snake hook and a can of non alchol olive oil Pam. I was hoping she had freed herself while I was gone, but Bette was apparently hoping I'd come back and free her. So I grabbed her head again (but not like they do on TV with the poor jaws agape, I just held her tight enough so that she wouldn't turn and bite me I hoped) and I deployed the Pam Olive Spray (alcohol free).
Now I had a slippery, frightened, ten foot python stuck in a branch with a faint Italian smell. I tried the pulling thing again. No luck. So I steadied the branch, told Bette not to thrash and began to pry at the wet wood with my buck knife. I hacked away, trying to get wood and not snake. Remember, one hand is holding the snake, legs are holding the branch and I have one hand on the knife.
"Bette, I need two hands"....like she's going to have one to offer, right? "I know you hate bags, but I am going to bag your head so I can pry you free.".
Well, she hates bags so much when I bagged her head she started to back up-so I shook the bag around her head a little bit and out she popped-almost. Her head got stuck in the hole. So before either one of us could panic, I just gave a little tug and out popped her head-you could almost hear a cork in the soundtrack of my mind.
So now I have a frightened ten foot python who is probably light headed and disoriented loose in the room. Fortunately, snakes don't have much of a memory. I just tapped her with the hook like I always do and picked her up, checked her for cuts and put her back in her viv.
Sometimes the strangest things go thump in the night.
Something was wrong, but what?
Bette heaved herself around again, and her little branch smashed against the glass. Bette was stuck in her own tree branch. Wedged, hopelessly wedged. And snake things are strictly my own personal problem. Even one I'm very fond of, and especially Bette who is the biggest.
So, I get Bette's head in one hand and the tree branch in the other, and get her out into the room for a look. She's stuck, not bleeding, probably tired and scared. So I tried to pull her backwards, while holding onto her head and trying not to break her neck. She didn't think much of the idea.
"Bette" I reassured her, "I'll be right back" (You do realize snakes can't hear right?)
I came back with my supplies-one glove, one buck knife, the snake hook and a can of non alchol olive oil Pam. I was hoping she had freed herself while I was gone, but Bette was apparently hoping I'd come back and free her. So I grabbed her head again (but not like they do on TV with the poor jaws agape, I just held her tight enough so that she wouldn't turn and bite me I hoped) and I deployed the Pam Olive Spray (alcohol free).
Now I had a slippery, frightened, ten foot python stuck in a branch with a faint Italian smell. I tried the pulling thing again. No luck. So I steadied the branch, told Bette not to thrash and began to pry at the wet wood with my buck knife. I hacked away, trying to get wood and not snake. Remember, one hand is holding the snake, legs are holding the branch and I have one hand on the knife.
"Bette, I need two hands"....like she's going to have one to offer, right? "I know you hate bags, but I am going to bag your head so I can pry you free.".
Well, she hates bags so much when I bagged her head she started to back up-so I shook the bag around her head a little bit and out she popped-almost. Her head got stuck in the hole. So before either one of us could panic, I just gave a little tug and out popped her head-you could almost hear a cork in the soundtrack of my mind.
So now I have a frightened ten foot python who is probably light headed and disoriented loose in the room. Fortunately, snakes don't have much of a memory. I just tapped her with the hook like I always do and picked her up, checked her for cuts and put her back in her viv.
Sometimes the strangest things go thump in the night.
Have You ever Noticed?
I go dead calm in crisis mode and sometimes that annoys the bejesus out of me. Uncle John's mental state is tanking, decisions must be made. The time for me feeling bad because I can't sure Parkinson's is over and I must help him move forward to the next phase.
Update family, check. Call dr., check. Prepare to be the bad guy-check.
If I functioned this well all the time I would be a machine-an awesome, calculating machine. But, I think what makes it work is that you have to shut down emotions and wishes and deal with what is. Emotions are for when it's safe.
Dementia is scary as hell. In many ways, it's worse than death. Hell, in many ways LIFE is worse than death. My promise to John and to myself was not to look away during this time-I just really didn't think the time would come or come so quickly. I moved us back to be near family in June, and at this point I'm not sure John even knows where he is any longer.
He introduced me the other day as his "agent", he's regressing into military life I guess. So, I will do what was in my master plan, move him closer to me and sit with him through this next part of things. This is my "real job" for now.
And believe it or not, I am grateful to be able to do it. I don't know why I'm grateful, but that's the thought that comes to mind. No one should have to go crazy alone.
EDIT:
Your Horoscope for November 26 , 2007
Family matters will be important today. A relative may be moving house or going through a major life change and they will need your support
Update family, check. Call dr., check. Prepare to be the bad guy-check.
If I functioned this well all the time I would be a machine-an awesome, calculating machine. But, I think what makes it work is that you have to shut down emotions and wishes and deal with what is. Emotions are for when it's safe.
Dementia is scary as hell. In many ways, it's worse than death. Hell, in many ways LIFE is worse than death. My promise to John and to myself was not to look away during this time-I just really didn't think the time would come or come so quickly. I moved us back to be near family in June, and at this point I'm not sure John even knows where he is any longer.
He introduced me the other day as his "agent", he's regressing into military life I guess. So, I will do what was in my master plan, move him closer to me and sit with him through this next part of things. This is my "real job" for now.
And believe it or not, I am grateful to be able to do it. I don't know why I'm grateful, but that's the thought that comes to mind. No one should have to go crazy alone.
EDIT:
Your Horoscope for November 26 , 2007
Family matters will be important today. A relative may be moving house or going through a major life change and they will need your support
Snow-it SNOWED
Well, really it sort of frosted the grass. Apparently in Oklahoma it doesn't actually have to freeze to snow and have said snow stick. But, white stuff was on the ground, and being most recently from Texas, that means Snow Day. Since I am working from the house these days, a Snow Day is pretty much like any other, only with a more laid back feel.
My energy level is somewhat higher than my earlier comatose state, but not quite in a panic stricken "what am I doing with my life" state. I am tempted to practice careful avoidance of any issues for the entire day in order to maintain said state.
This wish is countered by my current Back 2 Basics protien fast-I'm on day 2. It's supposed to cleanse my mind and my body, although not as well as if I had also done the colon cleanse portion. I opted to increase vegetable juices, but not take anything that would encourage, uh, cleansing.
Of the four or five that embarked on this cleansing journey, I think I am the only one who hasn't eaten something yet. But I've got a fridge full of veggie juice and by golly, I am going to cleanse!
Come to think of it, I may not be relaxed, I may just be in a state of semi starvation.
Nothing really enlightening has popped into my mind, but it's early in the process. The only thing of note was that I took a mighty dump so big that I had to ask myself "where did all of that come from?" but there was no cosmic answer to the large mass in the toilet bowl.
I think I'll go soak my feet in some mustard powder to detox my pores while I retox them by sipping on some coffee.
My energy level is somewhat higher than my earlier comatose state, but not quite in a panic stricken "what am I doing with my life" state. I am tempted to practice careful avoidance of any issues for the entire day in order to maintain said state.
This wish is countered by my current Back 2 Basics protien fast-I'm on day 2. It's supposed to cleanse my mind and my body, although not as well as if I had also done the colon cleanse portion. I opted to increase vegetable juices, but not take anything that would encourage, uh, cleansing.
Of the four or five that embarked on this cleansing journey, I think I am the only one who hasn't eaten something yet. But I've got a fridge full of veggie juice and by golly, I am going to cleanse!
Come to think of it, I may not be relaxed, I may just be in a state of semi starvation.
Nothing really enlightening has popped into my mind, but it's early in the process. The only thing of note was that I took a mighty dump so big that I had to ask myself "where did all of that come from?" but there was no cosmic answer to the large mass in the toilet bowl.
I think I'll go soak my feet in some mustard powder to detox my pores while I retox them by sipping on some coffee.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
About Seeing My Ex Husband in a Social Situation after 20 years
What a sucky thing. Most disturbing was that I wasn't sure until I verified it with a staff member at the Assisted Living Center. I was unable to do that till I left, so I had a good hour or so of doubting my very sanity. I really spent some time trying to convince myself that this wasn't happening.
I did give myself permission to make a scene if I need to, but found I didn't want to. So, instead I enjoyed the vantage point-I could stare at him without being obvious, but he couldn't stare at ME. I'm sure he hated that and I'm glad. Yeah, motherfucker, how does it feel......
First order of business, I declared to myself that dammit I would eat my dinner and not puke it-so I got some hot tea and forced myself to eat properly and slowly. Eating in public since banding has been kind of a sticky wicket, and I was making good progress, so I decided that I wasn't going to lose that ground and I didn't.
He who must not be named (ha ha) is an attorney, a manipulator, a pedophile and a bully. A really sinister, mean bully who smells any sort of weakness and capitalizes on it. Or at least he was the night I ran him out of my (our house) and told him I'd shoot him if he came back. (Yes, threaten me to that point and I will bite back). What he is now, I have no clue and I'm really not particularly interested in finding out.
His grey is now completely white, and frankly he dresses better than he did when we were married, and even looks a bit healthier. New wife appears to be more age appropriate. His mother seems a little faded, and he was very solicitous of her. Whatever monsterous secrets they have hidden together, they still obviously cared for each other very much.
It sucks donkey dicks to see someone you absolutely hate, fear, loath, etc. as just another human being. Really it does. All my righteous and justified anger at him just kind of fizzled. Why bother?
Of course behind THAT explosion remained the not so righteous and justified anger at myself for ever being in that situation or putting my child in that situation. Cause, if he is just a human being, well, so am I. Fizzle fizzle.
Getting to that wonderful conclusion took a lot of will power, thinking, self control, chewing and social deception (while I pondered) and that is why I was so tired when I left and went to Mom's and made my excuses. And, realizing she would never be able to "get it" I didn't even try to explain, just left.
But there was victory even in that-no arguing (on my part)-just surrendering to what was happening in my head at the moment, major holiday or no.
Now, part 2 is I am going to call the SOB and let him know that the best thing to do should we meet is to ignore one another. Mom hit a high soprano when I told her that-why why why? But here is why why why. He and I neither one should have to worry about running into each other, or having our elderly relatives upset. I don't want to move John, and he probably doesn't want to move his mother. It's too hard on the old ones.
It's not OK, but it is over. And while I enjoyed my vantage point of power, I'm not like he is-I don't need to loom over someone's head and frighten them with concerns about their relatives-the old bat looked good and well cared for, and that is not mine to mess up.
Truly, go in peace asshole, and let me do the same. It's not OK, but it's over, that's all foregiveness really is.
I did give myself permission to make a scene if I need to, but found I didn't want to. So, instead I enjoyed the vantage point-I could stare at him without being obvious, but he couldn't stare at ME. I'm sure he hated that and I'm glad. Yeah, motherfucker, how does it feel......
First order of business, I declared to myself that dammit I would eat my dinner and not puke it-so I got some hot tea and forced myself to eat properly and slowly. Eating in public since banding has been kind of a sticky wicket, and I was making good progress, so I decided that I wasn't going to lose that ground and I didn't.
He who must not be named (ha ha) is an attorney, a manipulator, a pedophile and a bully. A really sinister, mean bully who smells any sort of weakness and capitalizes on it. Or at least he was the night I ran him out of my (our house) and told him I'd shoot him if he came back. (Yes, threaten me to that point and I will bite back). What he is now, I have no clue and I'm really not particularly interested in finding out.
His grey is now completely white, and frankly he dresses better than he did when we were married, and even looks a bit healthier. New wife appears to be more age appropriate. His mother seems a little faded, and he was very solicitous of her. Whatever monsterous secrets they have hidden together, they still obviously cared for each other very much.
It sucks donkey dicks to see someone you absolutely hate, fear, loath, etc. as just another human being. Really it does. All my righteous and justified anger at him just kind of fizzled. Why bother?
Of course behind THAT explosion remained the not so righteous and justified anger at myself for ever being in that situation or putting my child in that situation. Cause, if he is just a human being, well, so am I. Fizzle fizzle.
Getting to that wonderful conclusion took a lot of will power, thinking, self control, chewing and social deception (while I pondered) and that is why I was so tired when I left and went to Mom's and made my excuses. And, realizing she would never be able to "get it" I didn't even try to explain, just left.
But there was victory even in that-no arguing (on my part)-just surrendering to what was happening in my head at the moment, major holiday or no.
Now, part 2 is I am going to call the SOB and let him know that the best thing to do should we meet is to ignore one another. Mom hit a high soprano when I told her that-why why why? But here is why why why. He and I neither one should have to worry about running into each other, or having our elderly relatives upset. I don't want to move John, and he probably doesn't want to move his mother. It's too hard on the old ones.
It's not OK, but it is over. And while I enjoyed my vantage point of power, I'm not like he is-I don't need to loom over someone's head and frighten them with concerns about their relatives-the old bat looked good and well cared for, and that is not mine to mess up.
Truly, go in peace asshole, and let me do the same. It's not OK, but it's over, that's all foregiveness really is.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
America's Favorite Wild Animal
According to Animal Planet, America's favorite wild animal is the dolphin. Number two was the horse (not technically a wild animal, but hey, it's TV). Three was the hummingbird. Ok.
Others in the top 10 was the panda, the butterfly (is that an animal?) and the rabbit.
Americans clearly like cute and cuddly, we aren't big on predators are we? Or ARE we?
Dolphins are some of the most lethal predators in the sea. They have lots of time to play and leap because they are some of the most successful hunters around. Sometimes bad boy dolphins will attack younger members of other pods, kill them and toss their bodies around in "play".
The only thing Americans like better than cute and cuddly is being decieved by appearances.
Others in the top 10 was the panda, the butterfly (is that an animal?) and the rabbit.
Americans clearly like cute and cuddly, we aren't big on predators are we? Or ARE we?
Dolphins are some of the most lethal predators in the sea. They have lots of time to play and leap because they are some of the most successful hunters around. Sometimes bad boy dolphins will attack younger members of other pods, kill them and toss their bodies around in "play".
The only thing Americans like better than cute and cuddly is being decieved by appearances.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Shit
It's all still too raw and way to complex to blog out, but now I know that without any drugs whatsoever it is possible for the room to spin and the world to stand completely still.
It is possible to sit and make polite conversation even when your heart is jumping out of your chest. It is possible to chew your food well and swallow, lap band and all, when you feel like hurling your plate across the room.
Life can suddenly bring you face to face with the real boogy man when you least expect it. And the boogy man can apparently grow and develop as well-perhaps still a monster, but no longer a part of your reality. Just as you are not the person you were 20 years ago neither is he. That part takes a lot of getting used to-I will have to get back to you on that one.
It is also entirely doable to say "I've had enough, I'm going home now and curl up in the fetal position"...and then actually do it. No, the world will not stop-you didn't even ask for it to. You are just asking for what you need, a pass to get off for a bit. Carry on world, just leave me out of it for now. Not forever, just for now.
Not only is that possible, it's downright healthy. Much healthier, in my opinion, than sitting with the room spinning and your stomach churning and your head exploding. And you know what? You don't even have to agree with me, I'm just telling you how I feel and what I'm going to do. Because you know what? How I feel and what I'm going to do are MINE-they belong only to me.
It is possible to sit and make polite conversation even when your heart is jumping out of your chest. It is possible to chew your food well and swallow, lap band and all, when you feel like hurling your plate across the room.
Life can suddenly bring you face to face with the real boogy man when you least expect it. And the boogy man can apparently grow and develop as well-perhaps still a monster, but no longer a part of your reality. Just as you are not the person you were 20 years ago neither is he. That part takes a lot of getting used to-I will have to get back to you on that one.
It is also entirely doable to say "I've had enough, I'm going home now and curl up in the fetal position"...and then actually do it. No, the world will not stop-you didn't even ask for it to. You are just asking for what you need, a pass to get off for a bit. Carry on world, just leave me out of it for now. Not forever, just for now.
Not only is that possible, it's downright healthy. Much healthier, in my opinion, than sitting with the room spinning and your stomach churning and your head exploding. And you know what? You don't even have to agree with me, I'm just telling you how I feel and what I'm going to do. Because you know what? How I feel and what I'm going to do are MINE-they belong only to me.
My true wish
Since this is the dreaded "turkey day" I'm lying low this morning to gather my strength. I'm looking forward to lunch with Uncle John at the Assisted Living Center-the chef there is really amazing and I don't have to cook.
It's the evening gathering that fills me with dread. My parents, my brother's kids and spouses, all gathered to cram in a years worth of bonding in two hours. I'm never really sure of holidays. If we loved each other THAT much, why don't we just get together next Friday at 3:00?
Holidays also remind me of a poorly staged production. We all work very hard to play the parts we've been given, with no regard to whether or not that has anything to do with reality. For instance I'll be asked about my daughter, I'll report "no news", we'll pause, ponder addiction for a moment, then move on. Because no one really wants to hear how deeply, profoundly sad that situation makes me, and I really don't want to share that at a family celebration. It doesn't fit the script.
I try to be grateful every day. It's a habit of mine to reflect for a moment on the things I enjoy and am grateful for. I do it while I'm doing my stretches before I even get out of bed. But I feel no real desire to parade those gratitude's out for public consumption/critique. What if I'm not grateful enough? What if I'm grateful for something that someone else doesn't have and that makes them feel bad?
I do remember a time as a child when I eagerly anticipated Thanksgiving Day, the gathering, having cousins to play with and the food. Somewhere along about puberty, anticipation became dread. Yet later, as a parent, I participated in the drama and staging.
My heart goes out this morning to friends I know who are in the middle of their own "memories in the making". Struggling to fit the image for the sake of the kids and the relatives. Every false smile seems to put another little dagger in your heart of hearts and reminds us that we are not like the Rockwell painting.
Soon I will arise from my funk, go have a protein shake and some coffee and go about the motions of the day. I WILL enjoy the luncheon, because there is something honest and real about old people-they've lost their desire to have illusions. Maybe when you don't have much time left, you want that time to be authentic.
Honestly, I am most grateful for this morning, with my dogs and the quiet. I'm grateful for the time to be drowsy and warm in my bed where I can listen to what my heart is really saying. I'm grateful for the ability to say it and for this new found lack of anger when I discover that something isn't the way I thought it should be. I can say blue is blue, and that isn't being critical of blue for not being red.
And yes, I'm truly grateful FOR the warm bed and the luxury of being safe enough to think about things such as this rather than how to survive bullets or famine. But, in all honesty, there are other things I have to worry about surviving. Does that make me ungrateful? I don't think so. If I don't acknowledge my own personal land mines, I'll be blown just as sky high as if I stepped on one in Laos.
Where does my heart truly lie today? Somewhere on a beach in Mexico. If I were in Cancun, I'd be in the dining room having an egg and looking out over the ocean. I can see the ocean, taste the salt on my tongue and feel the warm sand in my toes. I know it's there, even if I am not. And, yes, I am grateful that it's there and speaking to me now, thousands of miles away, warm in my bed.
Blue is not red, and here is not there. I will make the best of, and truly experience here, but I will not feel guilty about pausing every now and then to think of there.
Is that why we stuff ourselves with food, food that brings us into the present, or lulls us away into thinking about our tongues and our stomachs and not our lives? Today millions of Americans will bury themselves in turkey and pecan pie, never really tasting it, trying only not to be where they are. I am grateful that I won't be one of them.
Thanks to the lap band, I don't dive into anything without chewing it well, and that leads to savoring, and that leads to satiation. My Thanksgiving wish for all is that we all truly learn to chew our food-and our lives. That we learn to satiate and not obliterate.
It's the evening gathering that fills me with dread. My parents, my brother's kids and spouses, all gathered to cram in a years worth of bonding in two hours. I'm never really sure of holidays. If we loved each other THAT much, why don't we just get together next Friday at 3:00?
Holidays also remind me of a poorly staged production. We all work very hard to play the parts we've been given, with no regard to whether or not that has anything to do with reality. For instance I'll be asked about my daughter, I'll report "no news", we'll pause, ponder addiction for a moment, then move on. Because no one really wants to hear how deeply, profoundly sad that situation makes me, and I really don't want to share that at a family celebration. It doesn't fit the script.
I try to be grateful every day. It's a habit of mine to reflect for a moment on the things I enjoy and am grateful for. I do it while I'm doing my stretches before I even get out of bed. But I feel no real desire to parade those gratitude's out for public consumption/critique. What if I'm not grateful enough? What if I'm grateful for something that someone else doesn't have and that makes them feel bad?
I do remember a time as a child when I eagerly anticipated Thanksgiving Day, the gathering, having cousins to play with and the food. Somewhere along about puberty, anticipation became dread. Yet later, as a parent, I participated in the drama and staging.
My heart goes out this morning to friends I know who are in the middle of their own "memories in the making". Struggling to fit the image for the sake of the kids and the relatives. Every false smile seems to put another little dagger in your heart of hearts and reminds us that we are not like the Rockwell painting.
Soon I will arise from my funk, go have a protein shake and some coffee and go about the motions of the day. I WILL enjoy the luncheon, because there is something honest and real about old people-they've lost their desire to have illusions. Maybe when you don't have much time left, you want that time to be authentic.
Honestly, I am most grateful for this morning, with my dogs and the quiet. I'm grateful for the time to be drowsy and warm in my bed where I can listen to what my heart is really saying. I'm grateful for the ability to say it and for this new found lack of anger when I discover that something isn't the way I thought it should be. I can say blue is blue, and that isn't being critical of blue for not being red.
And yes, I'm truly grateful FOR the warm bed and the luxury of being safe enough to think about things such as this rather than how to survive bullets or famine. But, in all honesty, there are other things I have to worry about surviving. Does that make me ungrateful? I don't think so. If I don't acknowledge my own personal land mines, I'll be blown just as sky high as if I stepped on one in Laos.
Where does my heart truly lie today? Somewhere on a beach in Mexico. If I were in Cancun, I'd be in the dining room having an egg and looking out over the ocean. I can see the ocean, taste the salt on my tongue and feel the warm sand in my toes. I know it's there, even if I am not. And, yes, I am grateful that it's there and speaking to me now, thousands of miles away, warm in my bed.
Blue is not red, and here is not there. I will make the best of, and truly experience here, but I will not feel guilty about pausing every now and then to think of there.
Is that why we stuff ourselves with food, food that brings us into the present, or lulls us away into thinking about our tongues and our stomachs and not our lives? Today millions of Americans will bury themselves in turkey and pecan pie, never really tasting it, trying only not to be where they are. I am grateful that I won't be one of them.
Thanks to the lap band, I don't dive into anything without chewing it well, and that leads to savoring, and that leads to satiation. My Thanksgiving wish for all is that we all truly learn to chew our food-and our lives. That we learn to satiate and not obliterate.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Omigod, Personal Growth
Long story short-Uncle John just isn't able to do a dinner out right now, for whatever reason. Daddy just isn't able to eat at the Assisted Living Center-it freaks him out. So after days of everyone being on edge, we all came independently to the conclusion we should each just do what we want to do-Mom and Dad will go out together, I'll go eat at Uncle John's and watch John Wayne movies and the dog show.
Stranger still, no one blamed anyone or made anyone else responsible for figuring out how to make everyone happy. Sometimes my family amazes me.
Stranger still, no one blamed anyone or made anyone else responsible for figuring out how to make everyone happy. Sometimes my family amazes me.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Those Fantasies are Back
You know the pre Holiday ones where you wish for a sudden, unexplained, non contagious coma that will allow you to sleep through the whole mess? My fingers are itching-the telephone is right there...I could be in Mexico by....oh crappin hell mother of pearl buggery buggery bollacks shit.....I don't have a passport. I can't go to Sue's, her MIL is there, ready to suck the life out of anyone in the vicinity.
Maybe I can go pump out the storm cellar and hide down there.....
Maybe I can go pump out the storm cellar and hide down there.....
Happy Birthday Ma
Today is my Mom's birthday-Saturday was mine. Family legend is she got to come home from the hospital on her birthday, so I was her present. She'd probably have taken me back if she'd known what lay ahead.
Presents are hard-we don't "do" presents....but if I didn't show up with a "something" I think she'd be sad. So, in the intricate workings of my mother and I, it has to be something she wants that it just looks like I had. Saying to hell with it and just buying a nice present causes her much consternation. So, if I want to get her present for birthday/Christmas, I buy something for her not at those times of the year, and I say "I just wanted to do it".
I try to be respectful of that. I have my own holiday issues-single parenting will do that for you.
Maybe love is nothing more than respecting each other's neurosis.
Presents are hard-we don't "do" presents....but if I didn't show up with a "something" I think she'd be sad. So, in the intricate workings of my mother and I, it has to be something she wants that it just looks like I had. Saying to hell with it and just buying a nice present causes her much consternation. So, if I want to get her present for birthday/Christmas, I buy something for her not at those times of the year, and I say "I just wanted to do it".
I try to be respectful of that. I have my own holiday issues-single parenting will do that for you.
Maybe love is nothing more than respecting each other's neurosis.
Monday, November 19, 2007
My Expectations Manifesto
I have to be honest, the first thing I had to do was fight the urge to check my e-mail, Perhaps I will be saved....NOT. I did not check it. If I am interupted by the tree guy, I will note time and come back and pick up where I left off. GO.
Things I expect by living in Oklahoma. (comments)
1. Lower cost of living makes earning the dollar less of a big deal. (what has that go to do with anything?)
2. Lower cost of living makes self employment a viable option (better).
3. Self employment does not mean unemployment-nor does it mean that suddenly everyone is qualified to discuss "your job". (How many t-shirt writer/designers do you know? How many dog therapists???? Quit discussing things with people who are not qualified to advise you, even if you love them).
4. I expect to use my alloted space the way I want to. (I LIKE having sitting space in the living room now-the dining room pisses me off, I need an office. Further, I don't want to work in the back of the house or in the snake room. I LIKE working out of the dining room and the sunroom-I need to make that formal with proper furniture).
5. I expect not to explain everything I do that is "work related"...nor when I do it or how I go about it. (It's causing me to procrastinate because I'm no longer sure of my own instincts.)
6. I expect to nourish myself as I see fit-period. PERIOD.
7. I expect that when I've posted my "Working" sign (to be designed, discussed) that I will not be interupted. (I am sick and tired of working around 3 other people and their schedules-all of which take place between 7 am and 4:30. I have never in my life worked that schedule and I don't know why I thought I could now.)
The hard part is editing out all the "but...." but it's the buts that are keeping me miserable. Boundaries are boundaries, and they are necessary for everyone's sanity.
8. I expect to ask what time would be convenient for coffee and then I expect myself to show up at about that time, stay for 30 minutes and leave. (I'm probably driving Mom crazy with my "interuptions".)
9. I expect to spend more time in the yard and with the dogs-I really miss that.
None of these 8 things (9 was a restatement) are horrible, unreasonable, awful things. Why is it so hard for us to ask for what we want, put a little pride in what we do? Why is it so hard for us to just be happy? That's probably a topic for another list. By the way, it only took me 21 minutes to write down what I really want out of the next few years.
Things I expect by living in Oklahoma. (comments)
1. Lower cost of living makes earning the dollar less of a big deal. (what has that go to do with anything?)
2. Lower cost of living makes self employment a viable option (better).
3. Self employment does not mean unemployment-nor does it mean that suddenly everyone is qualified to discuss "your job". (How many t-shirt writer/designers do you know? How many dog therapists???? Quit discussing things with people who are not qualified to advise you, even if you love them).
4. I expect to use my alloted space the way I want to. (I LIKE having sitting space in the living room now-the dining room pisses me off, I need an office. Further, I don't want to work in the back of the house or in the snake room. I LIKE working out of the dining room and the sunroom-I need to make that formal with proper furniture).
5. I expect not to explain everything I do that is "work related"...nor when I do it or how I go about it. (It's causing me to procrastinate because I'm no longer sure of my own instincts.)
6. I expect to nourish myself as I see fit-period. PERIOD.
7. I expect that when I've posted my "Working" sign (to be designed, discussed) that I will not be interupted. (I am sick and tired of working around 3 other people and their schedules-all of which take place between 7 am and 4:30. I have never in my life worked that schedule and I don't know why I thought I could now.)
The hard part is editing out all the "but...." but it's the buts that are keeping me miserable. Boundaries are boundaries, and they are necessary for everyone's sanity.
8. I expect to ask what time would be convenient for coffee and then I expect myself to show up at about that time, stay for 30 minutes and leave. (I'm probably driving Mom crazy with my "interuptions".)
9. I expect to spend more time in the yard and with the dogs-I really miss that.
None of these 8 things (9 was a restatement) are horrible, unreasonable, awful things. Why is it so hard for us to ask for what we want, put a little pride in what we do? Why is it so hard for us to just be happy? That's probably a topic for another list. By the way, it only took me 21 minutes to write down what I really want out of the next few years.
Conversations with myself
Sometimes I have to sit down and just THINK things through. No, my parents do not understand this because (and I mean no disrespect) they are not big thinkers. Now, being a thinker can get you into a whole lot of trouble if it isn't used correctly. But not thinking, just reacting can get you into a whole lot more trouble.
Synopsis of my internal dialogue:
Me: You have really screwed this up-you have everything you want and nothing is working right. What is it you want? What are you not getting? Why can't you make this work?
Logical Me: When you set out to move back to Oklahoma-what was your vision?
Me: I'd work from home, go have coffee with my parents and we'd all get along and be happy, live long productive lives, yadda yadda yadda I'd play with my dogs a lot, start a dog therapy organization, ride horses, lose weight, become beautiful and famous and fabulously wealthy because I was finally doing what I'd set out to do.
Logical Me: And how has that worked out so far?
Me: I have coffee with my parents, but I don't even spend much time with the dogs because I feel guilty about having the time, my writing/designing sucks, approval rating from parents is 0. I have lost weight but wealth isn't happening and truly I couldn't care less about it.
Logical Me: HOw did you get along with your parents these past few years?
Me: Pretty well, I'd set up entire weekends for them, do what they wanted to do and nothing else. But it isn't realistic to keep that up on a day to day basis.
Logical Me: Do you think Moving away is the answer?
Me: That's the rub-no I don't. I think the answer is working through this. But, the answer is going to be that they are going to change-they really can't. I have to change my own expectations which is pretty hard to do since I don't know what they are.
Logical Me: Maybe that is a good place to start.
Me: Thank you, I will do that tomorrow, after I take Uncle John to the store.
Logical Me: How about you get off your arse and do it right now? You can always change it later-you always change everything anyway, so don't act so surprised, Ms. Change is LIFE.
Me: Fine
Logical Me: Oh, and one other thing. You have one hour and it will be in the format of I expect.....not I want, not I wish. You "expected" to take care of everyone and be loved and thoroughly fulfilled from doing it. (Why you expected this, I do not know, silly girl). So, toss that halo over in the corner and think about what you want and can realistically expect from this situation. I expect that it be done in just one hour.
Me: Uh, well, OK.
Synopsis of my internal dialogue:
Me: You have really screwed this up-you have everything you want and nothing is working right. What is it you want? What are you not getting? Why can't you make this work?
Logical Me: When you set out to move back to Oklahoma-what was your vision?
Me: I'd work from home, go have coffee with my parents and we'd all get along and be happy, live long productive lives, yadda yadda yadda I'd play with my dogs a lot, start a dog therapy organization, ride horses, lose weight, become beautiful and famous and fabulously wealthy because I was finally doing what I'd set out to do.
Logical Me: And how has that worked out so far?
Me: I have coffee with my parents, but I don't even spend much time with the dogs because I feel guilty about having the time, my writing/designing sucks, approval rating from parents is 0. I have lost weight but wealth isn't happening and truly I couldn't care less about it.
Logical Me: HOw did you get along with your parents these past few years?
Me: Pretty well, I'd set up entire weekends for them, do what they wanted to do and nothing else. But it isn't realistic to keep that up on a day to day basis.
Logical Me: Do you think Moving away is the answer?
Me: That's the rub-no I don't. I think the answer is working through this. But, the answer is going to be that they are going to change-they really can't. I have to change my own expectations which is pretty hard to do since I don't know what they are.
Logical Me: Maybe that is a good place to start.
Me: Thank you, I will do that tomorrow, after I take Uncle John to the store.
Logical Me: How about you get off your arse and do it right now? You can always change it later-you always change everything anyway, so don't act so surprised, Ms. Change is LIFE.
Me: Fine
Logical Me: Oh, and one other thing. You have one hour and it will be in the format of I expect.....not I want, not I wish. You "expected" to take care of everyone and be loved and thoroughly fulfilled from doing it. (Why you expected this, I do not know, silly girl). So, toss that halo over in the corner and think about what you want and can realistically expect from this situation. I expect that it be done in just one hour.
Me: Uh, well, OK.
Tagged!
Here are THE RULES:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as their links to their blogs. (I did 4, but FY did 6 so we are at net 10)
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as their links to their blogs. (I did 4, but FY did 6 so we are at net 10)
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
I've linked to
Boiled Egg in a Deck Chair,
Michele
Ellie
Rachael/Moxie
My five random facts are:
1. I listen to country and western music sometimes.
2. I like to sleep in-really really I do!
3. Last night I watched "Natural Born Killers" again-I love that movie.
4. I once climbed out onto and peed on the roof of a five star hotel.
5. I'm not really as together as I seem.
Strange Thoughts
Do people really want to do the things they say they don't have time for or do they just substitute things they'd rather do and use that as an excuse?
How DOES Bette open the cage and get out?
Why do cats drink out of the toilet bowl?
Why is there cow product in everything? EVERYTHING!!!!!!
How come calorie king doesn't have the nutrtitional composition of sheep's yogurt?
How does one take a vacation when one doesn't have a "real job"?
How DOES Bette open the cage and get out?
Why do cats drink out of the toilet bowl?
Why is there cow product in everything? EVERYTHING!!!!!!
How come calorie king doesn't have the nutrtitional composition of sheep's yogurt?
How does one take a vacation when one doesn't have a "real job"?
Friday, November 16, 2007
Illustration Friday-Superstition
This is an old Okie superstition, a snake in the hand is worth two in the bush.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Bette
Forever Young I couldn't find the images of Bette I photoshopped into a blue snake, so here she is in her normal living color. She's a bit longer now, maybe 9 feet? It's hard to measure a snake when no one will help.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Blow on with yer bad self
Oklahoma must be the windiest place on the planet. Something to do with the wind comes sweeping down the plains I reckon. Living in the burbs with power lines, the wind has a particular gruesome howl every time it gusts over 30 mph, and it does that quite frequently.
At the present moment the wind is trying to dismantle my very large sycamore tree. It's also rattling my neighbors wooden fence and throwing the leaves around next to my bedroom window.
What's amazing about the Okie winds is that they are so unrelenting. They can sustain a pretty fair windspeed for minutes at a time. When spent, they will die down a bit, long enough to make you believe the worst is over. Then they regroup and start anew.
It's eerie to hear the gusts coming-first the leaves rattle, followed by the main blast and then the shrieking finish through the electrical wires and final splat against the window.
At the present moment the wind is trying to dismantle my very large sycamore tree. It's also rattling my neighbors wooden fence and throwing the leaves around next to my bedroom window.
What's amazing about the Okie winds is that they are so unrelenting. They can sustain a pretty fair windspeed for minutes at a time. When spent, they will die down a bit, long enough to make you believe the worst is over. Then they regroup and start anew.
It's eerie to hear the gusts coming-first the leaves rattle, followed by the main blast and then the shrieking finish through the electrical wires and final splat against the window.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
A Scare
Dottie had a seizure last night. I held her the rest of the night and she's fine, but today I'm very tired and don't want to think about much of anything, especially a world without Dottie in it.
And that's the thing-there is not a damn thing I can do about it-she's old, sick and her time is running out. ALL our times are running out. FUCK.
At least Dottie has the good sense to lie in the sun, happy for the time she has. We should all be so wise.
And that's the thing-there is not a damn thing I can do about it-she's old, sick and her time is running out. ALL our times are running out. FUCK.
At least Dottie has the good sense to lie in the sun, happy for the time she has. We should all be so wise.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Not so Paralyzed
Morning wasn't quite right-I couldn't get the ATM to give me any cash, but I drove out to the stable, introduced myself to the owner, and made an appointment for next week. Then I looked around to see what the world looks like at 9 am on a Monday, something I hadn't seen for awhile. Out in the country, surrounded by horses and their intoxicating smell (I love the smell of horse) it wasn't so bad, so I decided that that would be how I started every week from now on for awhile.
Walked around Hancocks, a fabric store, and got some fleece to make a robe. When the fleece wasn't met with open arms, I just said "no worries, I'll take it home and make it myself or get someone else to do it." and Mom didn't quite know how to react. I really had no expectations, I thought she might like to be asked to do something since she has indicated she feels left out, but if she doesn't want to sew it, that's OK too. What was interesting was I truly didn't care either way, and that's what got her riled.
There is no winning this game. If I buy a robe, I've paid too much. The fleece was half price but was still too expensive because it came from Hancocks. It was camo colors with horses on it and the material was too thick....Uh, wait. Whose robe is it?
Apparently, the only way to win approval is to walk around buck naked until Mom finds a robe at the thrift store for 1.49 and gives it to me. I get it, I'm not supposed to go buy my own clothing. Or food (organic food is too expensive and uneccessary). Or roses (I have too many already).
Strangely, having finally understood the rules of this game, I no longer felt the need to play. I just disengaged. It's an asbsurd game. No one would be expected to play it, and I'm not going to. The price of complete approval is just too high.
Now, because I refuse to play, Mom just called to ask about the length of the robe and what I thought would work best. (Not down to the ground but covering my ass works fine for me).
The take away is not how to manipulate your mother, it's the power that comes from not fighting. And the really kick as thing to realize is that only one person has to agree with themselves not to do it. Not a bad lesson for a Monday.
Walked around Hancocks, a fabric store, and got some fleece to make a robe. When the fleece wasn't met with open arms, I just said "no worries, I'll take it home and make it myself or get someone else to do it." and Mom didn't quite know how to react. I really had no expectations, I thought she might like to be asked to do something since she has indicated she feels left out, but if she doesn't want to sew it, that's OK too. What was interesting was I truly didn't care either way, and that's what got her riled.
There is no winning this game. If I buy a robe, I've paid too much. The fleece was half price but was still too expensive because it came from Hancocks. It was camo colors with horses on it and the material was too thick....Uh, wait. Whose robe is it?
Apparently, the only way to win approval is to walk around buck naked until Mom finds a robe at the thrift store for 1.49 and gives it to me. I get it, I'm not supposed to go buy my own clothing. Or food (organic food is too expensive and uneccessary). Or roses (I have too many already).
Strangely, having finally understood the rules of this game, I no longer felt the need to play. I just disengaged. It's an asbsurd game. No one would be expected to play it, and I'm not going to. The price of complete approval is just too high.
Now, because I refuse to play, Mom just called to ask about the length of the robe and what I thought would work best. (Not down to the ground but covering my ass works fine for me).
The take away is not how to manipulate your mother, it's the power that comes from not fighting. And the really kick as thing to realize is that only one person has to agree with themselves not to do it. Not a bad lesson for a Monday.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Why do I do it?
Right now, blogging is the one thing I am consistent at. I suppose that's why I continue to do it. Sometimes, as I work through phrasing, I actually come up with an idea or insight that proves helpful. Today, however, my mind is not fertile ground.
I read somewhere that you should write whether you feel like it or not. Blogging makes it seem a little less like a tree falling in a forest that no one hears. It's my way of saying, yep, it's Sunday, I'm awake, I'm alive. Anyone? Anyone?
Oklahoma has to be the windiest place on the planet. I'd forgotten that part.
Today's task is to go find some boots/shoes with a low heel. Tomorrow I'm taking a riding lesson and one must be properly attired. I've got some horsey things coming up and I need to brush up a bit so I don't embarrass or cripple myself. So I'm taking a basic lesson and then I intend to go out to the stables once or twice a week and practice.
When you are a kid, it's easy to find someone to go riding with. Adults in Oklahoma who like horses have their own. It's just what they do. And I will have mine too one day. But first I'm going to learn to ride/care for it.
Ironically, horses have less margin for error than one of my reticulated pythons. That is probably something I will keep from Mom-she worries anyway. My very vocal interest in Motorcycles (not entirely fake) has made the horse idea more palatable. They would prefer that I splatter myself within easy driving distance it seems.
Perspective is a funny thing. I consider horse riding not terribly hazardous, based on the speed I ride (slow) and the height (not nearly as high as sky diving). Some people would disagree. Who knows? The shadow might, but I don't.
I read somewhere that you should write whether you feel like it or not. Blogging makes it seem a little less like a tree falling in a forest that no one hears. It's my way of saying, yep, it's Sunday, I'm awake, I'm alive. Anyone? Anyone?
Oklahoma has to be the windiest place on the planet. I'd forgotten that part.
Today's task is to go find some boots/shoes with a low heel. Tomorrow I'm taking a riding lesson and one must be properly attired. I've got some horsey things coming up and I need to brush up a bit so I don't embarrass or cripple myself. So I'm taking a basic lesson and then I intend to go out to the stables once or twice a week and practice.
When you are a kid, it's easy to find someone to go riding with. Adults in Oklahoma who like horses have their own. It's just what they do. And I will have mine too one day. But first I'm going to learn to ride/care for it.
Ironically, horses have less margin for error than one of my reticulated pythons. That is probably something I will keep from Mom-she worries anyway. My very vocal interest in Motorcycles (not entirely fake) has made the horse idea more palatable. They would prefer that I splatter myself within easy driving distance it seems.
Perspective is a funny thing. I consider horse riding not terribly hazardous, based on the speed I ride (slow) and the height (not nearly as high as sky diving). Some people would disagree. Who knows? The shadow might, but I don't.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
The reaping, the tilling and general seed spreading
It's not just me, it seems a lot of people I know are stuck in existential, situational real live mid life crisis mode. Is it the fall season-are we reaping what we sowed?
That phrase used to fill me with terror-be careful, you'll reap what you sow.....looming horrible karma coming crashing down to getcha....It's really a sucky thing to tell a child cause it doesn't give you any idea that you might have a choice about what you plant. Implicit in the message is that you are going to sow the wrong damn seed. At least that was what I heard, in my depressed little child synapses. Maybe what I really was hearing was the fear of my parents that I would sow the wrong thing. Isn't communication a tough nut?
Combine that with "finish what you've started" and you have a perscription for true misery-what if you started the wrong crop?
I myself am a big believer in plowing it all under and starting over. So you planted corn and really wanted soy beans, salvage what you can from the corn and move on. Don't just go buy more corn seed next year.
We seem hardwired to repeat the past. Maybe it's evolutionary-if the past didn't kill us, it must be the right thing to do. Yet to flourish, we need to break new soil and start new crops.
Honor the past, nurture the future.
That phrase used to fill me with terror-be careful, you'll reap what you sow.....looming horrible karma coming crashing down to getcha....It's really a sucky thing to tell a child cause it doesn't give you any idea that you might have a choice about what you plant. Implicit in the message is that you are going to sow the wrong damn seed. At least that was what I heard, in my depressed little child synapses. Maybe what I really was hearing was the fear of my parents that I would sow the wrong thing. Isn't communication a tough nut?
Combine that with "finish what you've started" and you have a perscription for true misery-what if you started the wrong crop?
I myself am a big believer in plowing it all under and starting over. So you planted corn and really wanted soy beans, salvage what you can from the corn and move on. Don't just go buy more corn seed next year.
We seem hardwired to repeat the past. Maybe it's evolutionary-if the past didn't kill us, it must be the right thing to do. Yet to flourish, we need to break new soil and start new crops.
Honor the past, nurture the future.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Hormones
Ok, it isn't my "situation", it isn't lack of Prozac, it's the stupid treacherous hormones that are bringing me down down down. Down like a frozen turd dropped from an aeroplane. Splat-only the splat never comes, I just keep falling falling and having wave after wave of hot flashes.
Hormones and I have never gotten along. They basically caused my ovaries and uterus to kind of explode or something-and now I am a slave to the bottle of pills. I've been on the natural form now for a month or so, and horses, I'm sorry, but I got to have your pee. (Premarin). Or something.
Such is my state I'm sitting here with pounding heart and shaking hands moaning to myself that my doctors appointment isn't until next Tuesday and I can't function now.....when a sudden image of the premarin bottle flashed in my mind. Wait, I have insurance, I HAVE a script, good lord, I have half a bottle of premarin.
So, I took two. Placebo effect kicked in immediately, I felt better. Yes, I have pills and a plan. Another image flashes in my mind-you know how those blood crazed vampires suck their victims to dust? My very cells are probably shredding up those hapless pills now. With no reproductive organs to speak of, what exactly is reaching out to devour the Estrogen? Frankly, I don't know and I don't care, just get that good stuff in my bloodstream NOW.
Hormones and I have never gotten along. They basically caused my ovaries and uterus to kind of explode or something-and now I am a slave to the bottle of pills. I've been on the natural form now for a month or so, and horses, I'm sorry, but I got to have your pee. (Premarin). Or something.
Such is my state I'm sitting here with pounding heart and shaking hands moaning to myself that my doctors appointment isn't until next Tuesday and I can't function now.....when a sudden image of the premarin bottle flashed in my mind. Wait, I have insurance, I HAVE a script, good lord, I have half a bottle of premarin.
So, I took two. Placebo effect kicked in immediately, I felt better. Yes, I have pills and a plan. Another image flashes in my mind-you know how those blood crazed vampires suck their victims to dust? My very cells are probably shredding up those hapless pills now. With no reproductive organs to speak of, what exactly is reaching out to devour the Estrogen? Frankly, I don't know and I don't care, just get that good stuff in my bloodstream NOW.
Tomorrow is Here
Ok, tomorrow isn't looking any better now that it is today-and somehow I lost my road bliss and am back to the terror that is my life these days.
The only hero that is going to come a riding into town is me, so I'd better get busy.
The only hero that is going to come a riding into town is me, so I'd better get busy.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The Fall Tour
I spent 12 hours solid (starting at 6 am) in the car with both my parents and a small dog and no one died or even got their feelings hurt. Of course, all of us, including the dog, were on good behavior, as we always are on trips.
We drove over to Arkansas and I realized that Daddy was probably getting to see the mountainside for the first time-he was always the driver. He kept saying "wow, oh wow". Mom got to pick the lunch spot and shortly thereafter she and Prissy were snoring in the backseat. PRISSY got to prance around two states in a new coat, AND a Doggy Boutique in Poteau Oklahoma, where I purchased a pink doggy t-shirt that read "I do Bad Things".
Prissy was wearing her shirt when we stopped at a truck stop for me to pee. Daddy offered to take Priss for a walk while Mom and I tended to our business. I cracked up when I looked outside to see my little old father walking a very prancing Prissy in her pink T-shirt. (Priss weighs about 3 pounds). I congratulated Daddy, saying a man had to be very secure in his sexual identity to do such a thing at a truck stop.
It was a long day and I didn't overly complicate things by thinking too hard, I just drove and watched the road and stared at the leaves and said "uh huh" when necessary. I love road trips.
Tomorrow I have to take Uncle John to the neurologist and things aren't looking all that bright, but tonight I'm just going to black it all out and sleep well. Tomorrow can take care of itself tomorrow.
We drove over to Arkansas and I realized that Daddy was probably getting to see the mountainside for the first time-he was always the driver. He kept saying "wow, oh wow". Mom got to pick the lunch spot and shortly thereafter she and Prissy were snoring in the backseat. PRISSY got to prance around two states in a new coat, AND a Doggy Boutique in Poteau Oklahoma, where I purchased a pink doggy t-shirt that read "I do Bad Things".
Prissy was wearing her shirt when we stopped at a truck stop for me to pee. Daddy offered to take Priss for a walk while Mom and I tended to our business. I cracked up when I looked outside to see my little old father walking a very prancing Prissy in her pink T-shirt. (Priss weighs about 3 pounds). I congratulated Daddy, saying a man had to be very secure in his sexual identity to do such a thing at a truck stop.
It was a long day and I didn't overly complicate things by thinking too hard, I just drove and watched the road and stared at the leaves and said "uh huh" when necessary. I love road trips.
Tomorrow I have to take Uncle John to the neurologist and things aren't looking all that bright, but tonight I'm just going to black it all out and sleep well. Tomorrow can take care of itself tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Why are some days harder than others?
I don't have an answer to this question-if I did I'd write a book, make a million dollars and retire. But some days just start out harder than others. Some days, like today, even start out rough before I even crawl out of bed.
It's never a good sign when you wake up and thing "Oh crap, another day."
I've pretty much been like that my entire life. I'm not a spring out of bed and great the day with a song and a cup of tea kind of person. Even in a hotel, with no dogs to feed, no clutter to confront, etc, I still really dread crawling out of bed.
Perhaps that's why I was late being born-2 weeks according to family lore. Why leave a warm comfortable spot for the messy world?
It's never a good sign when you wake up and thing "Oh crap, another day."
I've pretty much been like that my entire life. I'm not a spring out of bed and great the day with a song and a cup of tea kind of person. Even in a hotel, with no dogs to feed, no clutter to confront, etc, I still really dread crawling out of bed.
Perhaps that's why I was late being born-2 weeks according to family lore. Why leave a warm comfortable spot for the messy world?
Monday, November 5, 2007
Roses
I took my mom the last roses (most likely) of the season. It happened like this. I set out to get the paper and drink a protein/spirulena drink on the porch, which I did. Then I started watering the flowers and the roses needed pruning.
Some of the roses where nice and I decided to save them for Mom. Now I had told them yesterday I wouldn't be down in the morning because I get too distracted visiting and never get back to work. But the roses had to go down.
We had a quick cup of coffee and as I was leaving I said "I really like being able to pick roses and bring to you. It makes me happy," and then we hugged.
Our lives are full of turmoil and trying to figure out our place, but sometimes we just have to let the love rise over us. If I had designed a t-shirt this morning I probably wouldn't even remember it, but I'll always remember being able to take some roses to my mother on a fine fall day.
Some of the roses where nice and I decided to save them for Mom. Now I had told them yesterday I wouldn't be down in the morning because I get too distracted visiting and never get back to work. But the roses had to go down.
We had a quick cup of coffee and as I was leaving I said "I really like being able to pick roses and bring to you. It makes me happy," and then we hugged.
Our lives are full of turmoil and trying to figure out our place, but sometimes we just have to let the love rise over us. If I had designed a t-shirt this morning I probably wouldn't even remember it, but I'll always remember being able to take some roses to my mother on a fine fall day.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
How Bout that Cosmic Cowgirl!
I'm so glad that named won for the trailer because I think it's really perfect. I'm still working out decor, because there is no need to replace brand new curtains, etc. Some of the Sisters do an awesome job of trailer decorating.
But, true to my lazy nature, I will use my sleeping bag on the bed-not going to fuss with sheets, etc. I have my poly perk I bought for the Scotty....in fact I still have all the tupperware I bought for the scotty. I should probably just haul that all out to the Cowgirl and buy myself a new set of dishes for the house.
But, true to my lazy nature, I will use my sleeping bag on the bed-not going to fuss with sheets, etc. I have my poly perk I bought for the Scotty....in fact I still have all the tupperware I bought for the scotty. I should probably just haul that all out to the Cowgirl and buy myself a new set of dishes for the house.
Does anybody REALLY know what time it is?
The trailer people messed with the clock on my car radio and I haven't fixed it because I don't have a watch. My wall clock says 10:20 and my computer clock says 9:19-I'm thinking fall back, the computer clock is probably the one that agrees with the rest of the world.
Time really annoys me-deadlines, lunchtime, etc. I'd rather stay up till the wee hours and sleep till mid morning. That's how MY clock works, but I can't seem to get anyone else on the program. The dogs were up at 5:00 (well, by the wall clock, so it was probably 4:00) but as a pay off for their potty break I got to sleep till 10:00 (guess it was really 9:00).
The fallback thing gives you an extra hour (or the illusion thereof) so this is a mild rant. In spring, when I lose it, I'll probably be pissier.
Ironically, before I ventured into the living room and the world of clocks, I had to think long and hard about what day of the week it was. I settled on Sunday. I never really care what day of the month it is, so I don't even try.
The advent of Outlook helped me greatly in my professional career. When I was an accountant, and then a SOX compliance manager, what day it was really did sort of matter. But, it only mattered that the day was marked properly-most of my professional career has been spent digging through the past a resurrecting it for auditors.
That may be a clue as to why NOW means so very little to me. NOW is only something to be dissected at a later date.
Time really annoys me-deadlines, lunchtime, etc. I'd rather stay up till the wee hours and sleep till mid morning. That's how MY clock works, but I can't seem to get anyone else on the program. The dogs were up at 5:00 (well, by the wall clock, so it was probably 4:00) but as a pay off for their potty break I got to sleep till 10:00 (guess it was really 9:00).
The fallback thing gives you an extra hour (or the illusion thereof) so this is a mild rant. In spring, when I lose it, I'll probably be pissier.
Ironically, before I ventured into the living room and the world of clocks, I had to think long and hard about what day of the week it was. I settled on Sunday. I never really care what day of the month it is, so I don't even try.
The advent of Outlook helped me greatly in my professional career. When I was an accountant, and then a SOX compliance manager, what day it was really did sort of matter. But, it only mattered that the day was marked properly-most of my professional career has been spent digging through the past a resurrecting it for auditors.
That may be a clue as to why NOW means so very little to me. NOW is only something to be dissected at a later date.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Experiment
After a day of hiding (belly ache) and thinking, I went down this morning to see my parents, drink some coffee and experiment. I just waited til they started telling me what to do (didn't take long) and instead of getting tense, I asked myself "why are you getting tense?"
In this case, the issue at hand was Prissy (their former dog)...she was too thin (she's always been thin) and I let her walk down without a leash (a calculated risk-I didn't feed her because I knew she'd be more likely to be lured).
So what was making me tense? I didn't like it that they were questioning my husbandry skills (Prissy was thin when she lived with them too) or my training experience. Not that either are that great, but neither of them has attended a dog class or worked with a dog beyond housebreaking and I devote quite a bit of time to said passtime.
Does what anyone thinks of my training or husbandry skills MATTER? Not really, but what my PARENTS think of me does. And that's it in a nutshell, I don't feel like they give me any credit for what I've accomplished in life.
Mom will brag about the 13 pounds I've lost, but never talk to anyone about my Master's Degree. What I've done professionally just isn't important to them. They are stuck somewhere in the 1950's so the lack of husband and the woeful outcome of my daughter is really all they see.
And if I look at me through their eyes, that's all I see. So my new mantra has to be "look through your own eyes".
In this case, the issue at hand was Prissy (their former dog)...she was too thin (she's always been thin) and I let her walk down without a leash (a calculated risk-I didn't feed her because I knew she'd be more likely to be lured).
So what was making me tense? I didn't like it that they were questioning my husbandry skills (Prissy was thin when she lived with them too) or my training experience. Not that either are that great, but neither of them has attended a dog class or worked with a dog beyond housebreaking and I devote quite a bit of time to said passtime.
Does what anyone thinks of my training or husbandry skills MATTER? Not really, but what my PARENTS think of me does. And that's it in a nutshell, I don't feel like they give me any credit for what I've accomplished in life.
Mom will brag about the 13 pounds I've lost, but never talk to anyone about my Master's Degree. What I've done professionally just isn't important to them. They are stuck somewhere in the 1950's so the lack of husband and the woeful outcome of my daughter is really all they see.
And if I look at me through their eyes, that's all I see. So my new mantra has to be "look through your own eyes".
Friday, November 2, 2007
Movin On
The Cubicle has left the building-errr, the garage. I gave it to Sol, my neigbhor, in exchange for some handy work. Get this, Sol is going to use it to haul camping gear-the Cubicle will meet it's true destiny.
I was so excited when he told me that I gave him the portable picnic table with the umbrella I bought for it. His girls will love it.
The future of the Cubicle thrills me as much as the future of MY new trailer. Sol is excited about it, wants to paint it to match his truck. It's nice when someone else sees your vision too.
So the Cubicle moved on, the Scotty moved back to former owners. Vagabonds all.
I was so excited when he told me that I gave him the portable picnic table with the umbrella I bought for it. His girls will love it.
The future of the Cubicle thrills me as much as the future of MY new trailer. Sol is excited about it, wants to paint it to match his truck. It's nice when someone else sees your vision too.
So the Cubicle moved on, the Scotty moved back to former owners. Vagabonds all.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Stay with It
This has been a strange few weeks for me and it seems almost everyone I know. Lots of drama, unexpected events and not all of those good. So, today, my angst seems trivial and I'd like to let it go, but it will just come back.
I finally had the insight that I'm not that special. EVERYONE pisses off my Mom, not just me. My Mom, is in fact, a cranky person. She's also a nice person, a caring person but less than subtle, although I think she fancies herself so. And for years, 46 to be exact, I chose to believe that her moodiness was somehow my doing and that I could make it right.
Hell, I even asked her to take Prozac a few weeks ago, and I've toyed with the idea of slipping it into the coffee. But, I've got to realize that my Mom is cranky, highly negative and it's not my fault and I can't make it right.
When I was given out the role of optimist, no one gave me the special cape that many of the optimistic people seem to have. The one that allows them not to internalize negativity. Oh, I'm still optimistic, but if someone around me is cranky or unhappy, I take that on too, as if their crankiness or sadness is my own. Yeah, I'm highly empathetic, yay me.
So I'm going to build my own cape of calmness. I shall wrap myself in the skin of invicible optimism (faux skin of course).
Looking at it, staying with it, it really isn't that bad. I have already said my daughter is a dope addict, and I love her, but I won't be a part of it;I don't even feel like a bad person for saying it. So, saying my Mom is cranky and negative, and I love her but I won't be a part of it should be easier. And, now that I'm at that point, it truly is easier. But it took me longer to get there.
It's like my culpability in the matter was one of those undeniable truths. But the real truth is, she was probably cranky before I was even born so I doubt I had anything to do with it.
I am sure it took so long to arrive at this realization because I just left and didn't deal with it. But now that I've moved back, I have to deal with it. Truly, it's a matter of survival.
In the movies, people come to these insights in dramatic moments with tears and background music. In MY life, they just figure it out while riding a bike.
I finally had the insight that I'm not that special. EVERYONE pisses off my Mom, not just me. My Mom, is in fact, a cranky person. She's also a nice person, a caring person but less than subtle, although I think she fancies herself so. And for years, 46 to be exact, I chose to believe that her moodiness was somehow my doing and that I could make it right.
Hell, I even asked her to take Prozac a few weeks ago, and I've toyed with the idea of slipping it into the coffee. But, I've got to realize that my Mom is cranky, highly negative and it's not my fault and I can't make it right.
When I was given out the role of optimist, no one gave me the special cape that many of the optimistic people seem to have. The one that allows them not to internalize negativity. Oh, I'm still optimistic, but if someone around me is cranky or unhappy, I take that on too, as if their crankiness or sadness is my own. Yeah, I'm highly empathetic, yay me.
So I'm going to build my own cape of calmness. I shall wrap myself in the skin of invicible optimism (faux skin of course).
Looking at it, staying with it, it really isn't that bad. I have already said my daughter is a dope addict, and I love her, but I won't be a part of it;I don't even feel like a bad person for saying it. So, saying my Mom is cranky and negative, and I love her but I won't be a part of it should be easier. And, now that I'm at that point, it truly is easier. But it took me longer to get there.
It's like my culpability in the matter was one of those undeniable truths. But the real truth is, she was probably cranky before I was even born so I doubt I had anything to do with it.
I am sure it took so long to arrive at this realization because I just left and didn't deal with it. But now that I've moved back, I have to deal with it. Truly, it's a matter of survival.
In the movies, people come to these insights in dramatic moments with tears and background music. In MY life, they just figure it out while riding a bike.
Brave Thing Number 4 Question Authority
The trailer sympbolizes it, but buying a trailer isn't very brave. Unless you really don't know a whole lot about trailers and have a couple of people nearby telling you how much you don't know about trailers. But Brave Thing Number 4 is "Do It Anyway".
Now, I'm not advocating rash behavior, but I checked out on all the moving parts of the trailer, I have a manual, I have friends I can ask. No one came into this world knowing how to drive/own a travel trailer, and if they can learn, so can I.
This of course has me thinking about horses and lots of others things I've been told I don't need to/can't/shouldn't do. I'm also going to finish up the two books I'm reading (remember Brave thing Number 3) so I can buy Travel's With Charlie and relive that particular dream. And who knows? I'm not saying anything, other than "who knows"?
At 46, 47 in a very few days, I actually thought I would BE the Authority by now. Apparently that isn't the case.
So, what's different? Well, I'm not mad or defense about the trailer. Once the Oh shit, what have I done wore off, I'm pretty happy about it, and I don't disguise it. And, it freaking matches my truck. Yes, it has a navy blue stripe on it. Tres Chic! And electric breaks, which I know how to operate. COOL.
In fact, one of the techs said "you have a nice looking rig.". Oh yeah baby, I have a rig now.
Now, I'm not advocating rash behavior, but I checked out on all the moving parts of the trailer, I have a manual, I have friends I can ask. No one came into this world knowing how to drive/own a travel trailer, and if they can learn, so can I.
This of course has me thinking about horses and lots of others things I've been told I don't need to/can't/shouldn't do. I'm also going to finish up the two books I'm reading (remember Brave thing Number 3) so I can buy Travel's With Charlie and relive that particular dream. And who knows? I'm not saying anything, other than "who knows"?
At 46, 47 in a very few days, I actually thought I would BE the Authority by now. Apparently that isn't the case.
So, what's different? Well, I'm not mad or defense about the trailer. Once the Oh shit, what have I done wore off, I'm pretty happy about it, and I don't disguise it. And, it freaking matches my truck. Yes, it has a navy blue stripe on it. Tres Chic! And electric breaks, which I know how to operate. COOL.
In fact, one of the techs said "you have a nice looking rig.". Oh yeah baby, I have a rig now.
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