Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Here we go:
1. I've never eaten peanut butter on a pickle, but I'm going to try it some time.
2. Instead of buying cotton for the gerbils, I just give them old clothes of mine to shred.
3. I save toilet paper rolls, the gerbils, bird and snakes all love them for various reasons.
4. I graduated Summa Cum Laude from college.
5. I really don't enjoy writing I statements for some reason. (Will have to think about that one)
6. I've just spent a few minutes contemplating whether to rephrase 2 into an I statement, but I think I will not.
7. I enjoy a well brewed cup of tea.
What about you?
I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
Human Being posted the above poem by Emily Dickinson and challenged us to change it up a bit. Here is mine.
I'm happy, who are you?
Are you happy too?
Then there's a pair of us-don't tell
They'd banish us if they knew
How dreary to be busy
How public, like a frog
Proclaiming what you do all day
To a disinterested bog
This is dedicated to the lady who kept me awake from Phoenix to OKC talking to her seatmate in a voice that carried across the aisle...proclaiming who she was by listing out what she had, what she did.....yadda yadda yadda.
During my trip to California, I spent some quality time with Larry, my cousin's labyrinth. We experimented with and were amazed by the Appleton Dance. The Oh Wow thing about the Appleton is that you are walking side by side with someone, headed in the same direction, BUT one of you is headed into the center of the labyrinth and one of you is headed out of the labyrinth. My mind was a bit boggled experiencing something that logic says could not be true, yet was happening at that very moment. There was a moment we repeated several times-at the point where we synched up-she KNOWING she was headed one way, I KNOWING I was headed the other, yet our paths were the same, that frankly, I could go back for on a daily basis.
I'm tired from the trip, but I wanted to pop in and share a bit of the wonder with you all. Photos, cactus, insights to come.....
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
I'm taking Mom to see Uncle John and then I'll wrap up a few things here, pack and head off in the morning....maybe for the last time. Maybe not-who really knows?
I am looking forward to the trip, but right now I'm ready to be ON the trip, not wrapping up. I love it when that switch hits in my head that says "you can do no more and I zoom into to road mode," but that is likely a few hours away. It's enough to know that it is coming.
Cactus Monday will be on Tuesday cause I'm getting home late Monday night. Until then, talk amongst yourselves if you like-I'll see you next week.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Now, I'm not being critical of preacher-HE was there talking to them, and they appreciated it. Whether or not I agree with the message, I agree with the attention he gives them. Most of the sermons are geared towards not fearing death and what is going to happen when you die. Which is age appropriate for sure, but I have visions of him getting up there and saying "I really don't have any idea what the future holds for any of us, but I'll hold your hand through it."
That would be a nice message and you could take comfort in it without believing he knows what he's talking about. I do believe he thinks he knows or he wants to think he knows. I am trying not to be angry at any religion and I have already called a truce with preacher at any rate-for the Sundays we are both at the nursing home. I smile and try to send him good energy to send to the residents-in that we are united and I can participate. I do give him props-it's probably as uncomfortable for him to shake my hand with my capri pants, tie dye shirt and multiple tattoos as it is for me to shake his hand-but every Sunday we both give it our best effort and I think we are both growing from it.
My current time clock is getting ready to go to California on Thursday. My current circumstances are forcing me to come to grips with the only thing I can do for sure is get on the plane-the lenghty list of accomplishments I had set out for myself to achieve before lift off is largely undone. But, running my life like a work project wasn't working for me very well.
It takes me sooooooo long to experience and realize things-I feel like the dunce of the universe sometimes. Book learning and math tests-piece of cake....KNOWING what I know to be true-not so easy. Of course, "ranking yourself" in the universe is surely a most unenlightened viewpoint.
The ancient poly perk perked it's last this morning-or rather failed to perk. I dropped the basket in the water to get one final cup of brew. I just spit out a mouthful of Pike's Peast Roast grounds...so much for sentiment.
I gave my folks my new fangled Mr. Coffee that I bought for their visit in Dallas a few months ago when my stomach was so bad that I couldn't drink coffee. When I recovered, I just pulled out the old poly perk, but last week or so I purchased a 4 cup Mr. Coffee because I knew Poly was on her way out, I just wanted to use it until it perked no more.
The new fangled Mr. Coffee is still unused at my parent's house, because the new instruction manual hasn't arrived. It has caused much consternation with them, because they are running out of time-old Mr. Coffee is gasping....running out of time.....
It's amazing really they are so stressed by it. There are probably 100's of coffee makers within a mile or two of here, they have money and a car. If they needed to, the could stop at 7-11 and pick up a cup on the way to the store....but the rhythm of their day would be RUINED (changed) if Old Mr. C dies before the New Manual Arrives. It never ceases confound me on how I could have sprang from those loins. I am sure it does them to, and they probably wonder what they did to have ME heaped on their heads...
Old people, preachers, coffee makers and middle aged kids-we all march down that same road of time. Some of us just choose not to give it as much importance.
RIP Orange Poly Perk!
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Is just as challenging as riding a trail
There are no hints from previous passers by
Each hummock may be a rock or a sinking bog
The speed that is your friend
Is only that which you generate
The aching muscles of the next day
Are only your own
No track left behind
No trace of your passing
Only a sore muscle or two
And a smile
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Crops from 5 years ago
Feed from 4 years ago
Settle in the barn and wait
For my spade
Sometimes I am lonely
Believing no one else could find poetry
And wonder in a foot deep layer of horse shit
And maybe no one can
But maybe it's enough that I do
Friday, April 18, 2008
I rode over to the grade school I attended from grades K-6. What a perfect testing ground. There was a field to ride over, yep, downhill is easier than riding UP a grassy incline, so I practiced both for awhile. There were some tree roots to jump and some ramps.
I was laughing and giggling like a gradeschooler. It was bizarre and wonderful to ride along sidewalks and remember them as a child and think about where I am now. Really, it was fun and freaky stuff.
I'm going to be very careful about not cutting trails or riding when it's wet, and maybe I'll get to keep this little treasure for myself, as long as the pesky kids don't catch on and mess everything up......(They are probably saying "What is that old lady doing in OUR schoolyard jumping roots?")
Thursday, April 17, 2008
My brain has been working in hiccups lately-sometimes inspired, sometimes mush. I need to make more of an effort to connect with life and future rather than sit and muse and pass the time with people who are waiting to die. Now, I mean no disrespect to those people, and spending time with them is important. But I also need to remember that I still probably do have time for a plan and a scheme or two.
When I first moved back, I took the joy killing that goes on here very personally. But it isn't-and in some ways my schemes and wild ideas probably jangled on their nerves-reminding them of what they can no longer do. Unintentionally, I was hurtful, just like they were hurtful to me.
Just like kids, there is no one fits all manual for the elderly. In fact, you can raise a child to be direct and ask you for exactly what they want, with my parent's I have to figure it out. I've learned to look at criticism and ask the internal question "what am I not giving you....." That has been quite handy trick, and I'm glad to share it with you all.
Really and truly, there is enough complexity on 49th street that I would never be able to get to the bottom of it all if I spent all my time on it and never looked outward. Yet, by going outward and coming back, new perspectives and insights emerge.
I always wanted to be a supernova-bursting with such brightness that everyone would sit up and notice. Instead, I think I'm more a comet, running around in circles a lot. Well, on a good day I'm a comet. On a bad day, I'm more of an asteroid-a big lump that crashes into things and remembers that it used to be a comet.
Is that what it's like to get old? No more comet, only asteroid?
Really ancestors, some of you that have moved on could return to give us that are trying to figure it out a few hints. For shit's sake, it's YOUR CHILDREN I'm taking care of.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Happy Animal Wednesday! This is a quick rendering of one of my all time favorite animals, the Jungle Retic. I repeated her pattern over in the corner, layered it, then my feet got cold and I turned it all into carpet.
Oliver is the Nathan Lane of birds. Kind of drab on the outside (sorry Nathan) but a really colorful character at heart. Really, this critter is one of the shining stars of my household, and while he looks more like a fat little guinea fowl than a sophisticated parrot type, I am so glad to have him here. We'll save the flash for the furries and the snakes, Grey is IN for Parrots this year. (Unless you are Jack the Lorikeet.....)
I hereby swear to get both my scanner and my tablet up and running by next Wednesday. I've been lazy and doing small pieces with a touch pad on a lap top, while good for improving one's focus, is getting old.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
My own voice says Hello
My own voice asks "what are you doing?"
My own voice wakes the dogs
The parrot knows
When the dogs start barking
I'll let them out
And give him his peanut.
What the parrot doesn't know
Is that I leave him by the window
To watch the sun rise
And wake me
If he knew
He'd probably still work for peanuts
Monday, April 14, 2008
I'm very sad for my cactus. The more I think about it, the more horrific it seems.
Here is a pretty good explanation of the process. Still, little Frankencactus is in my house now and one of the family. Its pot is still sitting in the bromilead pot-the cactus dish I snagged from the side of Mom's house (I think she snagged it from my house in Dallas) is upended over the pepper plant.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Oklahoma has quite a lot of trails, and Texas is right down the road, and I'm looking forward to getting out there again. Thanks for the push MIM
I did get some good bike karma. When I stopped riding, I sold my bikes because I didn't want them sitting around unused. I sold them to people who knew what they were and appreciated the price-other bike enthusiasts. Yesterday I wandered in with all my specs to my local bike shop and was presented with this Cannondale Caffiene F3. After a bit more research called them and got it and the new saddle.
It is hard being 5'5''. I'm too big for a small women's bike, and they never EVER have small frame men's bikes in anything but entry level. Yet, on this day, they did, local, and it was the last 07 model they had, so I got it at a good price. (verified that it was before I bought it).
So, for now, my stable is complete. I have the mountainbike for trails, I have the hybrid for road, and that cruiser is not going anywhere. I have the dog walker thing hooked up to it....and if someone wants to ride but doesn't have a bike, that's the one they'll get.
I'm thinking about doing a car free month in May-what do you think????
Saturday, April 12, 2008
I'm not really moved to name the pinstripe Ricky or Fred, as I doubt he will court either of the ladies, not that he would mind. He'll tell me who he is in time.
I'm still stunned and amazed at how tiny GloWorm is. I knew they were small, but I'd never actually seen a young GTP, and the adults look so mysterious and all knowing. Glo may know things, but he's too little to speak up very loud. He does do that python threat display-gaping jaws and I laugh with delight every time he does it. When Tarzan did it as a baby it was cute, and even at 5 feet it was kind of funny. Glo, at less than a foot and about the width of a thick strand of yarn, is just hysterical.
My snakes are all captive bred, as is my parrot. The wild needs the wild ones left alone, and there are plenty of breeders around in the pet trade now. Ok, maybe not for GTP's, but if you want one, pay extra, get a captive bred one and leave the wild ones out there.
Friday, April 11, 2008
You may either wait for time to change the rock
Or learn to love the rock just as it is
But do not become attached to the rock you love
For it will change, worn away by time
A stone may be sent skipping across the water
But it is still a stone and eventually settles to the bottom
Waiting for time to make the change
From stone to whatever stones change into
When they are no longer stones
No one really knows what that is
And if the stones do, they are not telling.
And nothing gets done
I try to do it in order of importance
And nothing gets done
I do it starting with where I am
And move outward from that
And everything that needs to be done, is done
But is it ever really done?
Or does it just need doing again and again?
At the end of the day would I be happier if
I spent the day with dust motes or dogs?
I know the answer
Still, every mote must have its day.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Hating the process is futile
You might as well hate the rain.
Where there is air, breathe
Where there is no air, hold your breath
Knowing that the air will be there again
Whether you believe it will or not
Life flows on
Flow with it or not
Believe in it or not
Breathe or not breathe
It is all the same
Life flows on
Whether you believe or breathe or not.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Happy Animal Wednesday
I used to say that a lot when I was working in a skyscraper in Dallas. It pretty much summed up the futility I felt-applying rules, counting money, explaining the events in the least taxable way. Before hippa, sometimes medical reports would be used as actual support for a procedure. Would you believe that people go to the emergency room to have vaginal lesions lanced?
If you go to the emergency room, it is most likely the highlight of your day, or at least the low light...a pinnacle, day defining, perhaps even life changing, experience. Your name will end up on 15 sheets of paper, all documenting procedures, medical necessity, insurance coverage or lack thereof and those bits of paper will be disbursed for electronic data entry and electronic submission (no one really uses paper as an end product any more, except for toilet paper.)
Eventually you won't be a name. In the past you were the last four digits of your social security number but now I don't know how the hell they decide to differentiate you and your heart attack from all the other pinnacle experiences that day. Your heart attack, cost to treat and outcome data, as well as insurance data and reimbursement data will be combined to help determine the rate that should be negotiated/defined for other people with similar statistics. I've met a couple of brilliant people who eke out a pretty good living as experts in this field.
Two months after the actual event your statistics will be part of the monthly financials reported one month in arrears. At that point, reimbursement for the event should have started, but depending on the number of insurance carriers/programs you belong to, it could take 9 months or so for it to trickle in.
At that point, someone analyzing the paper who says "you do realize these numbers are people with life changing events that happened two months ago, some of them may not even be alive," will be looked at with blank stares and reminded to "focus".
What was my point? I really don't have one, other than the general notion that the same fucking day can be a sad thing to say or a hopeful thing or nothing at all. It's 1o till 9 on Wednesday in OKC and in Dallas. Instead of sitting in my office that overlooked my neighborhood , I'm sitting in my chair in my neighborhood. Instead of Double Double (folgers made with two packs of coffee to get that boost we needed) I'm drinking fresh ground Kona, watching the dogs and listening to Oliver the parrot babble.
For a while now I've been thinking that I may have lost my way, gotten off track somewhere. A closer to the truth explanation would be that I've gotten off that particular track. My co-workers now are dogs, a parrot, a few snakes, an elderly cat. I'm probably one of the luckiest people alive.
Which begs the question:
Does anybody really KNOW what time it is?
Does anybody really care?
So when I tell you that now it's raining, know that the rain is falling on the now that is Monday night in Oklahoma, though it may well be falling still (but I doubt it) early Tuesday morning. I hope to be asleep at that time and blissfully unaware of current state of the weather.
Which begs the question:
And I wonder, still I wonder,
Who'll stop the rain?
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Saturday, April 5, 2008
What sparked the day was my Aunt has been ill and I suggested we drive out and see her. I let Mom pick the time, I showed up on time, and had no agenda. Multitasking does not work with Mom. Then other new thing I did was not plan an entire day's activity for when I got home-knowing I wouldn't do it anyway and would just feel guilty about that.
Tomorrow we are going together to see Uncle John. Mom is struggling going by herself and that has never been my intent to give her pain. John is going downhill and Mom needs help with that.
So, like almost everything else in life, what I came here to do isn't really what I've ended up doing at all (here being Oklahoma). But what I'm doing is what is needed. So, maybe that's how things get done.
My original agenda was "Move to Oklahoma, start a successful business, cure Uncle John of Parkinson's via engaging him in all kinds of activities, and stimulate my parent's interest in life." Immediately prior to arriving here I left a career and a life in Dallas, and a month after I got here I had a silicone band placed around my stomach (which changed a few things to say the least).
Now that I'm in counseling (oh how it makes me smile to write that after the last paragraph) my agenda is to make a "vision board" by next Wednesday.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
I was floored. I'm 47, I have a Master's Degree, a couple of trades and successful careers under my belt....but for the first time I was not offended. Because I realized that Daddy didn't see me as a tired old woman-he still sees a young kid.
Now my ego is not dead... I did say, but laughing "well Daddy, I've worked since I was 15 and I've probably put in more hours on the job than you have" and he laughed too and told a story about working 30 hours straight or something like that. But it was a nice moment, because we both got a glimpse of the other's viewpoint, without anger or resentment.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
And then, there is the bigger issue that the dining room will become an office. Yes, an office/studio NOT a dining room. Oh horrors. Of course, the sunroom has a table and chair set up on it too, if sudden urge to entertain comes upon me. Right now I've got my sewing set up on it and I practicing roller cuts.
When you have a small space, like I do, decisions have to be made. There is no public/private area-one that I can set up to have ice tea with the neighbors and one I can put all my real life into. That's the hard reality that I am facing having moved into a smaller home, and one I've resisted. Oh, it's not really the neighbors, it's Mom and Dad. Of course, they ARE the neighbors.
In Dallas I sat my living room up as an office and my dining room up as a TV room and stuck the kitchen table out on the sunporch. And the world did not fall off its axis even one time. For some reason, when I moved back here, I wanted to become Betty Crocker and instead my house resembles that of an alchoholic animal hoader. (I actually was in the house of an alcholic animal hoarder once, so I know what I'm talking about).
But, I don't drink. And, I really don't hoard (animals). Instead, I sit frozen because I don't feel comfortable doing what I want to do in my own home. And that is nobody's fault but my own. Because really, at the end of the day, I could say "this is just the way I like it" as easily as I could say "I just don't have space for a true office".
So, I'm reworking the house and dividing up the areas into functional spaces that make sense for me based on what I do. Why set up an entire room for entertaining and dinner when I don't do that and don't really want to do that. Let's have dinner, to me, means pick a restuarant. Come over for awhile, to me, means let's sit on the couch and visit, or play some WII.
I'm just really fed up with trying to cram what I do all day into one small corner/laptop and the funny (ironic not ha ha) thing is no one has asked me to do this but myself. Nope, can't even blame Mom and her endless questioning. Because it finally hit me-she isn't saying "why don't you do it like I do it because that's how it's done....".....she's really just asking "why" which is something I do all the time too.
My need for approval has become matched only by my expectation that I won't get it and I've created this huge drama in my head. But it must be the drama I craved, because if you asked me point blank "do you care what anyone thinks of your dining room" I'd laugh at you. So, in my little drama, I've worked it out that I can't have the house I want cause what would people think....only, I don't really care what people think. I only pretend to care sometimes, when it suits me and my need to procrastinate.
I really do appear to have too much time on my hands or not enough time or could it be both. If my poor little house is a metaphor for me, I can't figure out how, why or what it all means. So today I'm just rearranging the rooms the way I want them to be and maybe that metaphor will magically carry over to me somehow. At the very least, I'll clean out some dust bunnies and have a more orderly space to create again.
I guess it comes down to the cosmic question "what are you waiting for?" I've always wanted to ask someone waiting for Jesus if they think he might not be coming because they really don't believe he will....but that is too much mind fuck for anyone, isn't it? From now on I'll go with the more subtle "why do you do that?" because THAT seems to work me over pretty good every time.