Reading is many things to me: an escape from boredom or stress, an education on history and the diversity of people, an elaborate fantasy world, a moving picture more vivid than HD. I can live in a book the way Miss Suzy lived in a dollhouse (one of my favorite childhood picture books about a squirrel who snuck into an attic to live). But most of all, reading is how I define myself. Not only do I snobbishly categorize myself as a "reader," reading has helped me more than anything else learn who I am and who I want to be.
As a child, I was more of an indoor kid, and since our TV was kind of jankie, and my house had an endless supply of books, reading was the habit I formed. Since we didn't have many kids in our neighborhood, I spent a lot of my time reading. I was lucky to have a cousin Amy who not only handed down cool California clothes, she sent us the latest books. I was the first girl in 6th grade to have "Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret." That was how I learned about puberty, boys and social interaction.
As an adult, I retreat into the fantasy world of books to escape stress and anxiety. Nothing captivates and distracts me like a 3000 page Ken Follet triology. I felt I could relate more to my grandfather who served in WWI after reading "Fall of Giants." I had little school training (or memory) in history, so I have filled in the gaps through historical fiction, one of my favorite genres. Sometimes I get mixed up on whether I have seen the movie or read a particular book, so vivid are the pictures I draw in my mind.
I am in awe of writers who can take ordinary words and combine them in an extraordinary way. It's fascinating how endless the arrangement of the English language is. I love to write down similes and metaphors from books that I find genius:
"Her voice, like some confused child, made my throat feel as if it were splintered by razors."
"The place was radioactive with memories."
"He looked over his bifocals and rearranged some throat phlegm."
Books are my friends when I have moved to new locations where I didn't know anyone and many other lonely moments of my life. I can curl up with a good book on a sunny day as easily as a rainy day. "Bridget Jones Mad About the Boy" had me laughing out loud and "Dark Places" had me internally vomiting but unable to put it down. The funny friend and the scary friend. "The Day I Went Missing" was the how-not-to handbook for my profession.
Ayaan Hirsi Ali in "Infidel" helped me justify my belief that abuse and violence against women should not be tolerated in the name of religion or cultural diversity. Augustus Waters in "The Fault in our Stars" taught me I don't have to make a large mark on the world; my small mark is good enough. Marie-Laure in "All the Stars We Cannot See" gave me hope of a resilient, long life in spite of the most profound losses. And these are just a few of the recent lessons learned.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Sunday, March 22, 2015
The Divining Hour
My favorite time of day is between 3 and 5 o'clock on the weekends. All the busyness of the morning errands and rituals is over, my afternoon nap has just ended, and I am still fuzzy from awakening not quite sure what day or time it is. Relieved or longing for a moment more in that dream world. A diet Pepsi is bringing me slowly back to life, and the evening is not yet encroaching on my conscience, or is it conscious? Dinner plans are percolating in the back of my head, and I might take a stroll outside if the sun is bright and warm, stopping to feel the warm bricks on the buildings of Randolph Street. My cashmere sweater, puffy coat and fleece gloves are a bit much on this particular day. The clocks on the Square are confusingly disparate, leaving me wondering what time it really is, or temperature. I wish someone would come to the door selling Girl Scout cookies.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Head or Heart
From The Handsome Man's De Luxe Cafe:
I know that I am making this decision from the heart. I know it is the wrong thing to do.
No, said Mma Potokwane. It is never the wrong thing to do. Never.
This exchange made me think immediately how I always make decisions from my head. I often write out a Pro and Con list when making a big decisions, and I became enamored with the Decisional Balancing Scale that I learned from a therapeutic workshop. My heart tends to be sadly pushed aside as reason and intellect and rationality seem a better basis for action.
Recently I have been working with Dialectical Behavior Therapy which promotes a Wise Mind approach. Combining the Reasonable Mind and the Emotional Mind will result in a good decision or reaction to situations. This therapy was designed for people whose tendency is towards emotional decisions and reactions. The opposite of me. But when they talk about how your emotions can be a valuable asset to listen to, I have to agree.
I can think of a few times I have consciously let emotion guide decisions. Those that come to mind are when I have decided to break rules or ethical standards because I "feel" it is the right thing to do. For example, I have loaned money knowing I would probably not get it back, or done something that may be perceived as enabling because the person was down, or old or whatever.
I can think of a few times I have consciously let emotion guide decisions. Those that come to mind are when I have decided to break rules or ethical standards because I "feel" it is the right thing to do. For example, I have loaned money knowing I would probably not get it back, or done something that may be perceived as enabling because the person was down, or old or whatever.
Saturday, March 07, 2015
Infidel
Just finished reading "Infidel" loaned to me by a friend who has similar taste in books. However, this was a totally different kind of book, biographical and politically astounding. Published in 2007, Ayaan Hirsi Ali was born Muslim and was a 'true believer' experiencing many forms of violence I had only vague knowledge of. Her enlightenment began in her teens as she struggled with her faith, eventually immigrating to Holland to escape arranged marriage, lack of respect and inferior education and employment (that would be the mild version). She came to speak out very publicly against the intolerance and violence of the Islamic culture and the Quran itself. She was one of a very few Muslims to speak out against Islam and multiculturalism in the wake of 9-11. She was elected to the Dutch parliament to advocate for abolishing segregated religious schools, ending violence against women and keeping proper statistics on honor killings, female excision, domestic violence and other forms of violence against women. Her life has been threatened continuously since.
I'm wondering what my cyber friend http://ginniehart.blogspot.com/ thinks and knows of the book and life of Ayaan and Muslim women in Holland, since Ginnie is now Dutch herself.
If you watch Ayaan's short film, Submission Part I on youtube, there are so many disturbing, ignorant comments. I almost feel writing this barely read blog could endanger me in some way. Ayaan's collaborator, Theo van Gogh was murdered in 2004 by a Muslim after making and releasing this film. This is a very provacative topic, and all she is fighting for is what we, in the United States, take for granted: freedom. And for Islam to move into the 21st century so that all people can prosper.
I'm wondering what my cyber friend http://ginniehart.blogspot.com/ thinks and knows of the book and life of Ayaan and Muslim women in Holland, since Ginnie is now Dutch herself.
If you watch Ayaan's short film, Submission Part I on youtube, there are so many disturbing, ignorant comments. I almost feel writing this barely read blog could endanger me in some way. Ayaan's collaborator, Theo van Gogh was murdered in 2004 by a Muslim after making and releasing this film. This is a very provacative topic, and all she is fighting for is what we, in the United States, take for granted: freedom. And for Islam to move into the 21st century so that all people can prosper.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Epic Hike
One of my proudest moments of 2015, although it's a little early to call a whole year, has to be the Epic Hike that Betsy, Cal, Ethan and I had in the icy canyons of Turkey Run State Park on 1/2/15. We decided on Trail 3, marked "very rugged" but only 1.7 miles, about what we were looking for. The trails at Turkey Run follow and cross ravine stream beds multiple times, a fact that was not lost on me, having fallen literally into a creek the day before while crossing on icy rocks. My entire right side was soaked and I had to go directly back to the Inn letting the others continue their "moderate" warm up hike on our first day of arrival. I did have a very peaceful swim at the Inn's pool so I didn't totally regret it.
Anyway, that Friday was a bit warmer day, as we crossed the suspension bridge which leads to the Rocky Hollow-Falls Canyon Nature Preserve and an abundance of wonderful and scenic trails, not to mention challenging. Betsy kept asking if this was the trail she had fallen on her behind and slid down a couple of years ago when she and I traversed it in a good firm snow pack of February. If it was, we had come through the opposite way, going down the ravine. This day we were headed up the ravine and the water was running but all the rocks and many other surfaces were slick with ice. A couple was ahead of us and turned a steep corner of rocks and disappeared while Ethan took copious pictures of icicles and minutiae he thought would make artistic photographs *we have yet to see any pictures from this professional grade camera he got about a year ago*.
So, we begin struggling up the slippery rocks, all the time I am keenly aware of how cold I will be and how far from the Inn we are this time, if I fall into the creek again. We are already questioning our ability to keep going and the warning in the trail guide that this particular trail can be impassable in inclement weather, when the young, healthy, dressed about like we are, couple comes back down the ravine, saying, "Nope, you can't do it." We're like, "Really?" They're like, "Yep, you can't make it without going through the creek and we don't have boots." So, they pass back down the trail and disappear and I'm like, "I don't want to give up without even looking at what we're up against." We are now on a very wet, slick, pass but Ethan volunteers to forge ahead around the bend with Cal in pursuit. Betsy and I carefully continue on, hyper-aware of our middle age and health status, and that two whippersnappers just gave up. I have to admit I had the idea that I could will myself through this trail, and relished the challenge. Just the same I was a bit scared. I was last around the corner of lubricious rocks, gingerly and laboriously minding each step until I reached my companions who are eyeing said "impassable" part of the creek bed. Somehow we have to cross several feet of water (too far to jump), which is about a foot deep. We discuss possible strategies and while looking around for an alternative route, Ethan and Cal spy a large branch (ice covered, mind you) and decide we can make it into a bridge. They throw it down and don't have much trouble bouncing across, followed by Betsy hobbling over with a helping hand from her sturdy son. Now, it's my turn; I buck up and start across grabbing Cal's firm grasp about half way across, as most of the ice was on his end, and quite thick I might add.
We are all ecstatic and continue up the ravine. We end up back on the other side of the creek shortly thereafter, and Ethan, Cal and Betsy, scale a rock wall on a ledge above the water, telling me all I have to do is keep my body pressed against the rock so I don't lose my balance and fall backwards into the creek. I put my first foot in the hold and mentally start freaking out. I can't do it. I can't make myself trust these slippery rocks to not send me into the creek on my head causing a major concussion and possible broken bones. Nope, not gonna do it. The team gives me encouragement and a pep talk, but I flat out refuse. Ethan is standing in the middle of the creek above me on a flat rock that is somehow jutting out above the water line, but I can't get there without scaling that wall.
They start looking around again, and Cal has the brilliant idea we can bring the big branch up to this point and I can cross the creek on it, so Cal goes back down to drag the large branch back up. I side step across with an assist from Cal and we continue up the canyon, the next obstacle being to ascend a steep rock wall. Again, the other three make it up first, then Cal reaches down and drags me as I crawl upwards. From that point on, it remained rugged but passable. An older couple is coming the opposite way, and we warn them it's treacherous, but if they use the branch we left behind they should be able to make it through.
Finally, we emerge from the canyon, to wooded areas, however, we are still waiting for the 170 steps that are listed on the map. The hike goes on and on and we step down three ladders into another creek bed, and meet a family who was behind us initially with two toddlers in backpacks (obviously they had turned around and took the trail the opposite direction). I'm thinking, no way these people are going through because it's already been at least an hour and a half. They managed the ladders which I thought was pretty amazing, though somewhere they lost the grandma (grandpa was hanging in there with them). At one point, we pass the young couple and proudly tell them we made it through without falling in. After a full three hours and a pocketful of fruit roll-ups later, we got back to the car. It was like a being on a challenge course, and using teamwork and the resources at hand to accomplish a mutual goal. What a day, what a hike, I am so happy, and I have the bruises to prove it:
Those are pretty much the worst looking legs ever.
Anyway, that Friday was a bit warmer day, as we crossed the suspension bridge which leads to the Rocky Hollow-Falls Canyon Nature Preserve and an abundance of wonderful and scenic trails, not to mention challenging. Betsy kept asking if this was the trail she had fallen on her behind and slid down a couple of years ago when she and I traversed it in a good firm snow pack of February. If it was, we had come through the opposite way, going down the ravine. This day we were headed up the ravine and the water was running but all the rocks and many other surfaces were slick with ice. A couple was ahead of us and turned a steep corner of rocks and disappeared while Ethan took copious pictures of icicles and minutiae he thought would make artistic photographs *we have yet to see any pictures from this professional grade camera he got about a year ago*.
So, we begin struggling up the slippery rocks, all the time I am keenly aware of how cold I will be and how far from the Inn we are this time, if I fall into the creek again. We are already questioning our ability to keep going and the warning in the trail guide that this particular trail can be impassable in inclement weather, when the young, healthy, dressed about like we are, couple comes back down the ravine, saying, "Nope, you can't do it." We're like, "Really?" They're like, "Yep, you can't make it without going through the creek and we don't have boots." So, they pass back down the trail and disappear and I'm like, "I don't want to give up without even looking at what we're up against." We are now on a very wet, slick, pass but Ethan volunteers to forge ahead around the bend with Cal in pursuit. Betsy and I carefully continue on, hyper-aware of our middle age and health status, and that two whippersnappers just gave up. I have to admit I had the idea that I could will myself through this trail, and relished the challenge. Just the same I was a bit scared. I was last around the corner of lubricious rocks, gingerly and laboriously minding each step until I reached my companions who are eyeing said "impassable" part of the creek bed. Somehow we have to cross several feet of water (too far to jump), which is about a foot deep. We discuss possible strategies and while looking around for an alternative route, Ethan and Cal spy a large branch (ice covered, mind you) and decide we can make it into a bridge. They throw it down and don't have much trouble bouncing across, followed by Betsy hobbling over with a helping hand from her sturdy son. Now, it's my turn; I buck up and start across grabbing Cal's firm grasp about half way across, as most of the ice was on his end, and quite thick I might add.
We are all ecstatic and continue up the ravine. We end up back on the other side of the creek shortly thereafter, and Ethan, Cal and Betsy, scale a rock wall on a ledge above the water, telling me all I have to do is keep my body pressed against the rock so I don't lose my balance and fall backwards into the creek. I put my first foot in the hold and mentally start freaking out. I can't do it. I can't make myself trust these slippery rocks to not send me into the creek on my head causing a major concussion and possible broken bones. Nope, not gonna do it. The team gives me encouragement and a pep talk, but I flat out refuse. Ethan is standing in the middle of the creek above me on a flat rock that is somehow jutting out above the water line, but I can't get there without scaling that wall.
They start looking around again, and Cal has the brilliant idea we can bring the big branch up to this point and I can cross the creek on it, so Cal goes back down to drag the large branch back up. I side step across with an assist from Cal and we continue up the canyon, the next obstacle being to ascend a steep rock wall. Again, the other three make it up first, then Cal reaches down and drags me as I crawl upwards. From that point on, it remained rugged but passable. An older couple is coming the opposite way, and we warn them it's treacherous, but if they use the branch we left behind they should be able to make it through.
Finally, we emerge from the canyon, to wooded areas, however, we are still waiting for the 170 steps that are listed on the map. The hike goes on and on and we step down three ladders into another creek bed, and meet a family who was behind us initially with two toddlers in backpacks (obviously they had turned around and took the trail the opposite direction). I'm thinking, no way these people are going through because it's already been at least an hour and a half. They managed the ladders which I thought was pretty amazing, though somewhere they lost the grandma (grandpa was hanging in there with them). At one point, we pass the young couple and proudly tell them we made it through without falling in. After a full three hours and a pocketful of fruit roll-ups later, we got back to the car. It was like a being on a challenge course, and using teamwork and the resources at hand to accomplish a mutual goal. What a day, what a hike, I am so happy, and I have the bruises to prove it:
Those are pretty much the worst looking legs ever.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Bob aka Free Booklet
I wanted to explain something from my last post, that is, why did I call God "Bob" and "Free Booklet?" It's something my parents, especially my dad has been saying for years. First, Bob was the God of one of the planets in the science fiction novel "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy," a book I have never read but my parents revere. As for Free Booklet, there was a commercial at one time stating, "The creator has a name. Few know it: Free Booklet." Ever since that classic quote, Dad has favored calling God, Free Booklet.
As Betsy declared on Christmas Eve, I come from a long line of atheists. Well, not so much atheists as agnostics. Kind of odd, being that my father was raised by a God fearing, Bible toting, fundamentalist father and mother, and I don't mean that derogatorily. From all I know of my grandparents, they were the very best kind of Christian people, that practiced what they preached. They even took me to week long Revival Bible camp in Jamestown, ND. They would probably be horrified to know that 8 year old Susan was sneaking off to meet the caretaker's son, Brian Hettler, with whom I had fallen in love, and later claimed I would one day marry. So much for my religious training.
My mom's family was more traditional Protestant eg. Methodist. My mom's interest in church was more having an outlet to sing in a choir or listen to an inspiring speaker, which was last apparently the case in 1968. My dad can quote the bible with more ease than anyone I have met, yet views it more as piece of literature. One day, he will meet Free Booklet and know all the answers.
As Betsy declared on Christmas Eve, I come from a long line of atheists. Well, not so much atheists as agnostics. Kind of odd, being that my father was raised by a God fearing, Bible toting, fundamentalist father and mother, and I don't mean that derogatorily. From all I know of my grandparents, they were the very best kind of Christian people, that practiced what they preached. They even took me to week long Revival Bible camp in Jamestown, ND. They would probably be horrified to know that 8 year old Susan was sneaking off to meet the caretaker's son, Brian Hettler, with whom I had fallen in love, and later claimed I would one day marry. So much for my religious training.
My mom's family was more traditional Protestant eg. Methodist. My mom's interest in church was more having an outlet to sing in a choir or listen to an inspiring speaker, which was last apparently the case in 1968. My dad can quote the bible with more ease than anyone I have met, yet views it more as piece of literature. One day, he will meet Free Booklet and know all the answers.
Thursday, January 01, 2015
The Year in Review
My world was rocked at the start of the 2013 school year. Not only did my caseload double, I had hundreds of new personalities to deal with, one of which quickly became intolerable to me. By Christmas I had lost 19 pounds, was working 50 hours a week, and commuting another 10, and I felt like a complete failure at my job.
At the start of 2014, I was just beginning to get my feet underneath me and focus on one day at time without the constant threat of giving notice in the middle of the school year (almost completely unacceptable, however many friends close to the situation said they would not blame me). With the help of yoga, wonderful co-workers, exercise, my family supporting me, and aromatherapy shampoo and conditioner (I know it sounds weird, but it was sometimes the little things that got me through), I kept my head up at work and started looking for another job. I enjoyed Cal's last season of baseball at Spoon River, and counted my blessings while asking for the strength to manage each day in front of me.
In an act of God, or Bob, or Free Booklet, or whatever you want to call a higher power, a job came open at my local hospital for a therapist around March. I quickly applied, if you can call several hours navigating the online application process quick, and had an interview pretty rapidly. Many of my old colleagues had left my old mental health center for this greener pasture. After my tenure evaluation in March in which I received Distinguished marks in every category, which I am not saying to brag, but to say I don't think my director was given the same direction as our union membership was (we were told that good teachers/support personnel should expect proficient ratings and perhaps an occasional distinguished rating under the new Danielson framework) or she just had an inflated view of my performance. After that was over, my director asked for a private meeting to discuss my caseload and rumblings she may have heard about my dissatisfaction. I decided to keep personalities out of it and was assured there would adjustments in my caseload, but I was honest and let her know I was pursuing other opportunities. She made it clear she would like me to stay, and soon two other social workers in the coop gave notice. As she began to interview for those positions, and I began to interview for other positions the tension mounted, and I began to get pressure to make my intentions known. I was being asked directly to say when and if I would be resigning and I finally caved in before I had a job offer in hand. Granted, I thought the hospital interviews went extremely well, but the weeks were going by and I didn't hear anything, and I refrained from asking my inside source what my chances were. I gave my notice and a week later I had the job offer I had been hoping for. Score one for me!
I started the new job the Tuesday after my last day of school. I planned my last days to really leave my affairs and instructions for the new hires clearly ordered. I hope the new girls did find it this way. I was trained in my new job by the gentle man who hired me in 1996 for my first job in mental health. It was reassuring, comforting and delightful to work together again. However, my learning curve was pretty steep. The new software system and procedures were beyond mind boggling to me, and I struggled to feel adequate in my new role as a therapist and keep up with the paperwork (read computer work) end. It took a good 3-4 months of hard work to even begin to get up to speed. The only problem then was a 24 hour work week, while a dream schedule, was not going to keep two college tuition, room and board bills paid for the next 2.5 years.
JoJo and Hannah left in late June for Star Lake Camp in New Jersey to be program specialists at a Salvation Army camp. The 7:00 train every morning now reminds me of that melancholy day they trekked out on their own. I spent most of that day listening to Cold Play and feeling unnerved. They returned in August with amazing and valuable life and work experience.
Cal moved into his first apartment in Normal in mid-August. He was immediately taken with campus life, social, academic, athletic, etc. The work load for classes was a lot more than community college, but he buckled down as always and got 'er done. His roommate Jesse turned out to be a good match and his grades for first term were even better than he expected.
Around August I helped Adam fine tune his resume for a mental health job in the Illinois prisons. He was hired rather quickly, but for unclear reasons, the job has not yet started. He has been into the women's prison he was assigned several times, but has not been given a start date.
I got to visit Betsy in Clarksville three times this year. We rang in the 2014 New Year together, I drove down between jobs for a long weekend, and we had a mini family reunion there over Labor Day before Megan left for college in England. That was about it for my travels.
I cleaned a couple of houses until I was offered an additional day at the hospital, precipitated by my looking into another part time social work position I was told about. I am finding four days just about right, as they are jam packed, full on, intense work days. Dad was hospitalized after Thanksgiving for a severe infection in his toe/blood, and is still being nursed back to health by my mom. I help out when I can and fill in for their cleaning lady when she is injured or sick (which is most of the time lately). When she is well, I have been helping Mom "down size" her belongings.
My relationship with Pat has grown as the house has emptied. The upside to working until 6:00 is that Pat has become a capable cook. I love coming home to dinner on the table. I am able to express myself better, we joke around and find each other's humor enchanting, and have discovered a closeness that comes from knowing someone so long and so well.
As you may be able to tell I wasn't able to focus on much this year besides work. I think, hope and pray I have found my niche, and that 2015 will be the very best year yet.
At the start of 2014, I was just beginning to get my feet underneath me and focus on one day at time without the constant threat of giving notice in the middle of the school year (almost completely unacceptable, however many friends close to the situation said they would not blame me). With the help of yoga, wonderful co-workers, exercise, my family supporting me, and aromatherapy shampoo and conditioner (I know it sounds weird, but it was sometimes the little things that got me through), I kept my head up at work and started looking for another job. I enjoyed Cal's last season of baseball at Spoon River, and counted my blessings while asking for the strength to manage each day in front of me.
In an act of God, or Bob, or Free Booklet, or whatever you want to call a higher power, a job came open at my local hospital for a therapist around March. I quickly applied, if you can call several hours navigating the online application process quick, and had an interview pretty rapidly. Many of my old colleagues had left my old mental health center for this greener pasture. After my tenure evaluation in March in which I received Distinguished marks in every category, which I am not saying to brag, but to say I don't think my director was given the same direction as our union membership was (we were told that good teachers/support personnel should expect proficient ratings and perhaps an occasional distinguished rating under the new Danielson framework) or she just had an inflated view of my performance. After that was over, my director asked for a private meeting to discuss my caseload and rumblings she may have heard about my dissatisfaction. I decided to keep personalities out of it and was assured there would adjustments in my caseload, but I was honest and let her know I was pursuing other opportunities. She made it clear she would like me to stay, and soon two other social workers in the coop gave notice. As she began to interview for those positions, and I began to interview for other positions the tension mounted, and I began to get pressure to make my intentions known. I was being asked directly to say when and if I would be resigning and I finally caved in before I had a job offer in hand. Granted, I thought the hospital interviews went extremely well, but the weeks were going by and I didn't hear anything, and I refrained from asking my inside source what my chances were. I gave my notice and a week later I had the job offer I had been hoping for. Score one for me!
I started the new job the Tuesday after my last day of school. I planned my last days to really leave my affairs and instructions for the new hires clearly ordered. I hope the new girls did find it this way. I was trained in my new job by the gentle man who hired me in 1996 for my first job in mental health. It was reassuring, comforting and delightful to work together again. However, my learning curve was pretty steep. The new software system and procedures were beyond mind boggling to me, and I struggled to feel adequate in my new role as a therapist and keep up with the paperwork (read computer work) end. It took a good 3-4 months of hard work to even begin to get up to speed. The only problem then was a 24 hour work week, while a dream schedule, was not going to keep two college tuition, room and board bills paid for the next 2.5 years.
JoJo and Hannah left in late June for Star Lake Camp in New Jersey to be program specialists at a Salvation Army camp. The 7:00 train every morning now reminds me of that melancholy day they trekked out on their own. I spent most of that day listening to Cold Play and feeling unnerved. They returned in August with amazing and valuable life and work experience.
Cal moved into his first apartment in Normal in mid-August. He was immediately taken with campus life, social, academic, athletic, etc. The work load for classes was a lot more than community college, but he buckled down as always and got 'er done. His roommate Jesse turned out to be a good match and his grades for first term were even better than he expected.
Around August I helped Adam fine tune his resume for a mental health job in the Illinois prisons. He was hired rather quickly, but for unclear reasons, the job has not yet started. He has been into the women's prison he was assigned several times, but has not been given a start date.
I got to visit Betsy in Clarksville three times this year. We rang in the 2014 New Year together, I drove down between jobs for a long weekend, and we had a mini family reunion there over Labor Day before Megan left for college in England. That was about it for my travels.
I cleaned a couple of houses until I was offered an additional day at the hospital, precipitated by my looking into another part time social work position I was told about. I am finding four days just about right, as they are jam packed, full on, intense work days. Dad was hospitalized after Thanksgiving for a severe infection in his toe/blood, and is still being nursed back to health by my mom. I help out when I can and fill in for their cleaning lady when she is injured or sick (which is most of the time lately). When she is well, I have been helping Mom "down size" her belongings.
My relationship with Pat has grown as the house has emptied. The upside to working until 6:00 is that Pat has become a capable cook. I love coming home to dinner on the table. I am able to express myself better, we joke around and find each other's humor enchanting, and have discovered a closeness that comes from knowing someone so long and so well.
As you may be able to tell I wasn't able to focus on much this year besides work. I think, hope and pray I have found my niche, and that 2015 will be the very best year yet.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Fake Christmas Eve
So thankful Chris did not Miss- the plane in Detroit. The NH
Vick-Jensens arrived on time ( a little early, in fact) and Fake Christmas Eve
went off without a hitch.
Cal repped his school (Illinois State),
Grandpa rocked the Benji's, Magic Mike debuted a bunch of hysterical card
tricks (he has the appropriate schtick), Susse Caramel all around, WATCH THE
TOE. Chris made photo collages for each family of never before seen material
including a picture of Mom and him as an infant (aka Aunt Joyce and Fletcher),
Pat-stasche, Ethan drinking (holding) a beer at age 6 months.
Played my game Linguistical Feud, no
surprise Richard and Betsy's team won by a landslide with their consummate
knowledge of Southern slang, French, British, New England, Aussie, and even
Concrete slang. We learned some useful stuff (mun=man bun, Gesundheit=good
health, not bless you, Monkey
Dick=phallic shaped vibrator used to consolidate wet concrete, pop=lollipop,
sucker or popsicle).
Passed the torch to the next generation
for strawberries this year. Mom was coughing, I had chipping nail polish I
didn't care to remove and Betsy begged off for unknown reasons, so Eli, Adam,
Ethan and Cal took over, not without some trepidation. By the end they were
cracking themselves up as they made new and improved shapes for the traditional
candies:
Fake Christmas Day, Cal is doing his own version of Name that Tune
on his Ipad, Megan v. Michael. Lonely People, Let It Be, Eleanor Roosevelt?? I
believe that's Eleanor RIGBY.
I have to say December 28, 2014 was one of
my best days ever. Started with paying some bills (my fave thing!), writing
some Christmas cards, a crisp walk with Pat, and coffee. Went to a meeting
where I heard what I needed to hear: I need to be more "spiritually
fit" especially around my family. Went over to Mom and Dad's house. Connie
the cleaning lady is still down, so Betsy helped me with the weekly chores. It
was fun! I was spiritually fit (most of the time). The garbage and recycling
were full to the rim. I downloaded Dad's pictures from Christmas (fake) and
messed around with his Facebook page, finding just the right profile pic for
him, after one I thought was quite hysterical (wearing a white theatrical wig
which he instantly vetoed, however it had already gotten one "like").
Returned to find my house empty but the Buffalo Dip was still warm in the
refrigerator, so I chowed on that (thank you Donnamarie). Betsy joined me, and
then moved on. I made hamburgers on the grill for the hungry children, trying
to get them some vegetables, as all they've eaten is white bread. I'm afraid
they'll be as backed up as the Eisenhower Expressway at rush hour. I discovered
as Michael was biting into his third burger on white bun, that some of them
were dangerously pink inside, setting off a whiff of e-coli, eboli, maggot
infested stomach jokes. When I told Ethan to microwave his, he said, "No, I don't want to be the only one left alive."
We played a game of Golf (the card game) and then Michael had the brilliant idea to collect and count Pat's change $56 dollars and buy lottery tickets. $10 to Pat, $4 to Walmart for officially counting the change, and 3 different stores later they ended up $7 ahead!! I honestly didn't think the lottery could net you any money. Pat ended the night with a huge funeral pyre in the backyard, in which he cremated a dead squirrel he had found in the yard earlier that day.
We played a game of Golf (the card game) and then Michael had the brilliant idea to collect and count Pat's change $56 dollars and buy lottery tickets. $10 to Pat, $4 to Walmart for officially counting the change, and 3 different stores later they ended up $7 ahead!! I honestly didn't think the lottery could net you any money. Pat ended the night with a huge funeral pyre in the backyard, in which he cremated a dead squirrel he had found in the yard earlier that day.
We have one more family day together, but
I went to bed last night a happy and very grateful person.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Chris-Miss
Thanks for the title lead, Ethan. This our 19th year in Macomb was an anomaly. Only the second time we didn't spend Christmas Eve at my parents house opening copious piles of presents and eating our traditional supper. Not following our usual convention left Cal commenting, "It doesn't feel like Christmas Eve" and indeed it did not. This whole Christmas thing got turned around because Chris and his family are arriving on Friday and we decided to delay our extended family time until then.
Our evening consisted of me getting off work early (4:00ish) *I can't remember the last time I had to work on Christmas Eve for starters* and everyone reading books for awhile (Cal included, which is totally not Cal- being that the YMCA closed early). I cooked dinner of Spaghetti with Clam Sauce, Garlic Bread, salad, and chicken breasts for Adam and Cal. Next we sat around talking until Eli left to play his trumpet at church. Betsy stopped in for a moment before church, noting that all the atheists were staying home. I pointed out, I am not an atheist, but an agnostic and decided I couldn't be and be around hypocrits anymore even if it meant missing a Eli performing on his trumpet with the beautiful and talented Porter sisters singing and playing ukelele.
We topped off the evening by watching Hunger Games 2: Catching Fire; another thing we never do is watch movies together. Pat went to bed before Home Alone 2: Lost in New York screened. I wandered off to make Raspberry Coffee Cake for breakfast and then went to bed.
Growing up, we always opened presents on Christmas Eve, after supper of Potato Soup and Oyster Stew. We were told this was part of our Danish heritage and took that at face value. We never had extended family around so it was always just the five of us in our own home (minus a time or two we traveled out of state for the holidays). We had our stockings on Christmas morning. My kids are used to a similar scenario with Christmas Eve at grandma and grandpa's house, and our Denecke Christmas on Christmas morning. The only other time in 19 years this didn't happen was when I encouraged my parents to spend Christmas in Louisville with Betsy's family so I could see what it was like to just be with my husband and kids. It felt hollow. After church at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, we drove around looking at lights, and Cal commented, "It doesn't feel like Christmas Eve."
In trying different variations of Christmas for different reasons, I have realized that we have built meaningful customs that are uniquely ours. In looking ahead, when my kids establish their own families and careers, we will likely undergo another shift in our holiday celebrations. I have to look forward to, embrace change, and learn to go with he flow. Let the games begin, and may the odds always be in your favor.
Our evening consisted of me getting off work early (4:00ish) *I can't remember the last time I had to work on Christmas Eve for starters* and everyone reading books for awhile (Cal included, which is totally not Cal- being that the YMCA closed early). I cooked dinner of Spaghetti with Clam Sauce, Garlic Bread, salad, and chicken breasts for Adam and Cal. Next we sat around talking until Eli left to play his trumpet at church. Betsy stopped in for a moment before church, noting that all the atheists were staying home. I pointed out, I am not an atheist, but an agnostic and decided I couldn't be and be around hypocrits anymore even if it meant missing a Eli performing on his trumpet with the beautiful and talented Porter sisters singing and playing ukelele.
We topped off the evening by watching Hunger Games 2: Catching Fire; another thing we never do is watch movies together. Pat went to bed before Home Alone 2: Lost in New York screened. I wandered off to make Raspberry Coffee Cake for breakfast and then went to bed.
Growing up, we always opened presents on Christmas Eve, after supper of Potato Soup and Oyster Stew. We were told this was part of our Danish heritage and took that at face value. We never had extended family around so it was always just the five of us in our own home (minus a time or two we traveled out of state for the holidays). We had our stockings on Christmas morning. My kids are used to a similar scenario with Christmas Eve at grandma and grandpa's house, and our Denecke Christmas on Christmas morning. The only other time in 19 years this didn't happen was when I encouraged my parents to spend Christmas in Louisville with Betsy's family so I could see what it was like to just be with my husband and kids. It felt hollow. After church at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, we drove around looking at lights, and Cal commented, "It doesn't feel like Christmas Eve."
In trying different variations of Christmas for different reasons, I have realized that we have built meaningful customs that are uniquely ours. In looking ahead, when my kids establish their own families and careers, we will likely undergo another shift in our holiday celebrations. I have to look forward to, embrace change, and learn to go with he flow. Let the games begin, and may the odds always be in your favor.
Friday, December 19, 2014
Sweet Dreams
Sleep is one of the most talked about topics in therapy, in my marriage and in life. No one ever seems to get enough, or it they do it's never good enough.
The older I get the less I sleep. I'm sure we have all noticed this pattern in older folk. This steady decline began with having babies and interruption of sleep inherent in that. As the children got older, it seemed one ear was always listening in case something was needed. Now in my fully acknowledged middle age, I couldn't sleep past 8:00 a.m. if I wanted to, which I don't. I also have bouts of not being able to fall asleep, and definitely not staying asleep. There are multiple trips to the water closet each night with varying success of returning to REM's. Last night I just knew at 3:00 a.m. it wasn't going to work and I got up and puttered around for an hour or so and fell right back to sleep. Some of my somniferous friends from least to most effective are melatonin, Sleepytime tea, two bowls of cereal, Benadryl, and as a last resort, Rx drugs.
Did you ever wonder where the term "falling" asleep came from? I recently discovered the answer. I have several techniques I use to go to sleep particularly during day naps, and they increase my awareness of the process my body goes through. One sensation I have as I am dozing off, is that of falling. As long as I am not jolted totally awake, it's very pleasant to experience, and MUST have been where someone long ago got the phrase 'falling asleep.'
Instead of complaining about insomnia, why not embrace it? Here are some good points about not sleeping well or long:
The older I get the less I sleep. I'm sure we have all noticed this pattern in older folk. This steady decline began with having babies and interruption of sleep inherent in that. As the children got older, it seemed one ear was always listening in case something was needed. Now in my fully acknowledged middle age, I couldn't sleep past 8:00 a.m. if I wanted to, which I don't. I also have bouts of not being able to fall asleep, and definitely not staying asleep. There are multiple trips to the water closet each night with varying success of returning to REM's. Last night I just knew at 3:00 a.m. it wasn't going to work and I got up and puttered around for an hour or so and fell right back to sleep. Some of my somniferous friends from least to most effective are melatonin, Sleepytime tea, two bowls of cereal, Benadryl, and as a last resort, Rx drugs.
Did you ever wonder where the term "falling" asleep came from? I recently discovered the answer. I have several techniques I use to go to sleep particularly during day naps, and they increase my awareness of the process my body goes through. One sensation I have as I am dozing off, is that of falling. As long as I am not jolted totally awake, it's very pleasant to experience, and MUST have been where someone long ago got the phrase 'falling asleep.'
Instead of complaining about insomnia, why not embrace it? Here are some good points about not sleeping well or long:
- it makes time slow down- if you are constantly waking during the night, it lasts longer. Haven't you noticed if you do sleep all night, it has just rushed by in an instant? Why not luxuriate in the feeling of time standing down?
- you can look forward (schedule allowing) to a great nap the next day
- you can get stuff done like wrapping presents, writing blogs, or catching up on Facebook although the pundits agree exposure to screens before bedtime will disturb your sleep quality
- some of your best ideas will be hatched in the middle of the night- then again, you may look at them less adoringly in the morning
Friday, December 12, 2014
MRSA MRSA Me
You can sing that to the tune of "Mercy Mercy Me" by Marvin Gaye. Listening on Spotify, I could burst out crying, love that song.
Turns out, though you never can tell with the sketchy, conflicting information you get from 3 different doctors, Dad's latest diagnosis is Staph infection, non-MRSA type, in the blood. Still don't know if the bone was infected after two CT scans and one MRI. The good news is, he went home Tuesday evening and is taking IV antibiotics twice a day at home for six weeks. Mom is having to learn how to run the antibiotics and clean the wound. The latter I just don't think is going to happen. No one ever nicknamed her Florence Nightingale. Me either, my nickname being Nurse Ratchett.
Betsy arrived Saturday afternoon and helped so much by keeping Dad company at the hospital. In the process, she discovered one of the best deals in Macomb, a coffee machine in the basement of the hospital that serves delicious coffee & Cafe Latte (among other delights) for 20 or 30 cents. The creamy froth is the perfect temperature and consistency, smooth and aromatic, but I digress...It was great having Betsy here, she's definitely a daddy's girl. She went home Tuesday, and the move home was one the smoother aspects of this whole experience.
Today is the first of weekly appointments with the surgeon. Mom thought they could handle it on their own, so I hope it is going well. I haven't been over to see them since Wednesday morning. I'm feeling pretty guilty about going shopping in Springfield today.
Turns out, though you never can tell with the sketchy, conflicting information you get from 3 different doctors, Dad's latest diagnosis is Staph infection, non-MRSA type, in the blood. Still don't know if the bone was infected after two CT scans and one MRI. The good news is, he went home Tuesday evening and is taking IV antibiotics twice a day at home for six weeks. Mom is having to learn how to run the antibiotics and clean the wound. The latter I just don't think is going to happen. No one ever nicknamed her Florence Nightingale. Me either, my nickname being Nurse Ratchett.
Betsy arrived Saturday afternoon and helped so much by keeping Dad company at the hospital. In the process, she discovered one of the best deals in Macomb, a coffee machine in the basement of the hospital that serves delicious coffee & Cafe Latte (among other delights) for 20 or 30 cents. The creamy froth is the perfect temperature and consistency, smooth and aromatic, but I digress...It was great having Betsy here, she's definitely a daddy's girl. She went home Tuesday, and the move home was one the smoother aspects of this whole experience.
Today is the first of weekly appointments with the surgeon. Mom thought they could handle it on their own, so I hope it is going well. I haven't been over to see them since Wednesday morning. I'm feeling pretty guilty about going shopping in Springfield today.
Saturday, December 06, 2014
Trauma Mama Drama
Is it really Saturday already? Where did Friday go? Oh, I remember. It started Wednesday night when my mom called to say she had called the ambulance for my dad as he spiked a temperature and she couldn't move him. She told me to get a good night's rest and she would take care of it.
Thursday morning before work, I get a call from Mom that the diagnosis is gangrene in Dad's big toe, and they would probably amputate his toe and/or foot. That was gruesome, but my busy week at work continued and since I work next to the hospital I spent my lunch hour with Dad. His toe was exposed and pretty much took away any thought of eating. I went back after work and the surgeon was trying IV antibiotics and possibly install a shunt in his foot/leg to deliver them with surgery as a last resort. My mom asked if she could "catch" his infection and he replied it was now MRSA, which I'm telling you, really set my mom off. My knowledge of MRSA is pretty limited but I feel like there's different kinds, and you don't 'catch' it unless you rub an open sore into it. Regardless, I did agree my dad's room and stuff he had been touching his foot to, should be washed up pretty good.
Fridays I don't generally work at my regular job, but I had about two hours of paperwork to finish so I did that and then stopped in to see Dad. He was in good spirits and the toe was now covered which made visiting easier. Then I headed to Mom's house to begin cleaning with hot water, bleach, and any other disinfectants we could find. There was a lot of bedding and clothes to wash, vacuuming, bathroom cleaning and surfaces to disinfect, but I really get into cleaning. We moved and flipped the bed, and what the heck, let's get at the piles of papers and crap on the desks, even though they could hardly be harboring MRSA. About 2:00 dad called the surgeon had read the CT scan and said his veins were clear, the bone was NOT infected and he would probably be getting out of the hospital sooner than later.
Last night I went back to the hospital and read aloud a chapter from "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and Dad helped me understand the vocabulary (what a mortar is in war and some of the Spanish words), themes, and setting. I was familiar with the term "cojones" and we had a laugh over that.
Thursday morning before work, I get a call from Mom that the diagnosis is gangrene in Dad's big toe, and they would probably amputate his toe and/or foot. That was gruesome, but my busy week at work continued and since I work next to the hospital I spent my lunch hour with Dad. His toe was exposed and pretty much took away any thought of eating. I went back after work and the surgeon was trying IV antibiotics and possibly install a shunt in his foot/leg to deliver them with surgery as a last resort. My mom asked if she could "catch" his infection and he replied it was now MRSA, which I'm telling you, really set my mom off. My knowledge of MRSA is pretty limited but I feel like there's different kinds, and you don't 'catch' it unless you rub an open sore into it. Regardless, I did agree my dad's room and stuff he had been touching his foot to, should be washed up pretty good.
Fridays I don't generally work at my regular job, but I had about two hours of paperwork to finish so I did that and then stopped in to see Dad. He was in good spirits and the toe was now covered which made visiting easier. Then I headed to Mom's house to begin cleaning with hot water, bleach, and any other disinfectants we could find. There was a lot of bedding and clothes to wash, vacuuming, bathroom cleaning and surfaces to disinfect, but I really get into cleaning. We moved and flipped the bed, and what the heck, let's get at the piles of papers and crap on the desks, even though they could hardly be harboring MRSA. About 2:00 dad called the surgeon had read the CT scan and said his veins were clear, the bone was NOT infected and he would probably be getting out of the hospital sooner than later.
Last night I went back to the hospital and read aloud a chapter from "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and Dad helped me understand the vocabulary (what a mortar is in war and some of the Spanish words), themes, and setting. I was familiar with the term "cojones" and we had a laugh over that.
Friday, December 05, 2014
Taking Stock
Here's one of those things you read and pass along. It somehow seems a lot more interesting for the person writing it than the person reading it, but hey, if it entertains me for the evening, I'm game.
Making : mistakes
Cooking : very little
Drinking : coffee
Reading: Winter of the World, For Whom the Bell Tolls
Wanting: a day off
Looking: forward to Christmas
Playing: Sporcle missing words from literary works
Deciding: on diagnoses
Wishing: for peace
Enjoying: quietude
Waiting: for Guffman
Liking: myself
Wondering: who I'm praying to
Loving: my family, my me-time, my lunch hour
Pondering: if snowmen are Christian symbols
Considering: others who do not celebrate Christmas
Watching: what I say
Hoping: for everyone to get well, even though that is impossible
Marveling: at how the junior high boys behave in group
Needing: a good night's rest
Smelling: Simpler Thyme candle scent
Wearing: Eli's flannel shirt, jeggings and Uggs
Following: Kangaroo Spotting
Noticing: how gluttonous I am
Knowing: my husband is keen on me
Thinking: I am sweet on my husband
Feeling: exhausted and relieved
Admiring: nurses who have to look at and touch ishy stuff
Sorting: my mom's stuff
Buying: stocking stuffers
Getting: my dad's room, bedding, clothes cleaned up
Bookmarking: every few pages that I read
Disliking: gangrene and MRSA
Opening: the refrigerator
Giggling: when Betsy gets here I hope
Snacking: on frosted sugar cookies
Coveting: is bad, sinful
Wishing: for definition in my arms
Helping: Jen get her license
Hearing: the furnace turn on and off
What a random bunch of ideas. I actually started this Wednesday, and then a bunch of stuff happened and it changed my focus a lot.
Making : mistakes
Cooking : very little
Drinking : coffee
Reading: Winter of the World, For Whom the Bell Tolls
Wanting: a day off
Looking: forward to Christmas
Playing: Sporcle missing words from literary works
Deciding: on diagnoses
Wishing: for peace
Enjoying: quietude
Waiting: for Guffman
Liking: myself
Wondering: who I'm praying to
Loving: my family, my me-time, my lunch hour
Pondering: if snowmen are Christian symbols
Considering: others who do not celebrate Christmas
Watching: what I say
Hoping: for everyone to get well, even though that is impossible
Marveling: at how the junior high boys behave in group
Needing: a good night's rest
Smelling: Simpler Thyme candle scent
Wearing: Eli's flannel shirt, jeggings and Uggs
Following: Kangaroo Spotting
Noticing: how gluttonous I am
Knowing: my husband is keen on me
Thinking: I am sweet on my husband
Feeling: exhausted and relieved
Admiring: nurses who have to look at and touch ishy stuff
Sorting: my mom's stuff
Buying: stocking stuffers
Getting: my dad's room, bedding, clothes cleaned up
Bookmarking: every few pages that I read
Disliking: gangrene and MRSA
Opening: the refrigerator
Giggling: when Betsy gets here I hope
Snacking: on frosted sugar cookies
Coveting: is bad, sinful
Wishing: for definition in my arms
Helping: Jen get her license
Hearing: the furnace turn on and off
What a random bunch of ideas. I actually started this Wednesday, and then a bunch of stuff happened and it changed my focus a lot.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Giving Thanks on Thanksgiving
I got this lovely email a few days ago. It truly made my day:
Hello,
> This time of the year with thanksgiving coming up
next weekend (and no thanksgiving to celebrate in Sweden), we think about the
wondeful time we had at your house at thanksgiving last year.
>
> This year, we are thankful that we have this great
evening to remember! What a nice time we had, your hospitality was fantastic,
and the evening gave us so many nice memories.
>
> Again, thank you for having us, we send all our love
to everyone that will celebrate with you this year! And if you're ever in
Stockholm, we would love to show you around!
>
> Happy thanksgiving!
>
> Kajsa and Martin
M.Anne, Martin, Kajsa, Martin
We had a great meal and played Minute To Win It hosted by Cal, and everyone had a fun time. This year we don't have any new guests (planned anyway), but will enjoy the usual suspects.
In addition I am grateful for:
- having my 3 kids under my roof for a few days
- a vigorous walk with Pat this morning
- a job close to home that I enjoy
- a four day weekend
- money in the bank
- a sense of humor
- good health
It's so nice to have a national holiday that has for the most part stayed uncommercialized (pet peeve- blow up turkeys waving in people's front yards) that celebrates family, food, hospitality, and thankfulness. I wish for everyone to have this in their hearts this 27th day of November 2014.
Golf Ball Challenge
Yulia and Pat
My little Wellness Warrior plan for Thanksgiving 2014- take a walk no matter what the weather is (check), only eat one plate of food at dinner, only one dessert. I didn't say anything about Krispie Kremes for breakfast, or how big my plate is, or how high my dessert is piled, did I?
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Wellness Warrior
In my new job with a hospital (I work in the behavioral health clinic) it has been refreshing to encounter a focus on health for the employees. So far, this has translated into an extra $70 and a day off work for me, by participating in wellness activities and meeting certain biometric benchmarks. Last month was WalkTober, and we turned in miles walked using a pedometer. My first pedometer busted on the floor of the bathroom at the movie theater, but I found another one and finished the challenge, usually exceeding 10,000 steps a day, even though my job is about as sedentary as you can get.
This month's (actually 6 weeks) challenge is to complete a Couch to 5K Run or do a pull-up AKA be a Wellness Warrior. My idea is to head into the holidays as fit as possible so that I can enjoy all the treats of the season. Since I hate to run, I chose the pull up. Sounds easy, huh? Not so. My baseline is 30 pull ups several times a week, with a counter balance of 40 pounds on an assisted pull up machine.
This week's challenge is to add 3 planks and 30-50 push ups per day in addition to your regular work out at different intervals. *break for 20 push ups* I'm back. This is really amping things up. My first plank was 30 seconds, my longest so far is 65 seconds. Supposedly, 2 minutes is the benchmark to shoot for, and I have a few more days to go.
On another note, November is feeling cold, cloudy and dreary. Perfect nap weather. *break for nap* Wow, I thought I just lost this post, but it came back. It's so boring, I knew I wouldn't have the energy to re-write it.
My new schedule is 9:00-6:00 Monday through Thursday. One advantage to working until 6:00 pm is having dinner on the table when I get home. I have to say, Pat has really stepped up in the cooking department. One delicious dinner he made was pork chops dipped in egg and Ritz Crackers. It was literally like Crack, one bite and I couldn't stop.
I don't believe in Christmas coming before Thanksgiving, however this year I already jumped the gun. Before Halloween, I had some colored lights I got from my mom's downsizing project and so I strung them all over our tiny Spruce, Bruce, outside. I haven't turned it on yet, but I still feel a little guilty. I also started Christmas shopping, mostly stocking stuffers that I see and can't resist. For some reason, I am now in the mood to decorate my dollhouse for Christmas. *break for miniature lights and tress* Okay, that's done now. The roofers have finally come...I need a cute, clever address for my house. Any ideas?
Lisa and Maggie playing in the attic.
This month's (actually 6 weeks) challenge is to complete a Couch to 5K Run or do a pull-up AKA be a Wellness Warrior. My idea is to head into the holidays as fit as possible so that I can enjoy all the treats of the season. Since I hate to run, I chose the pull up. Sounds easy, huh? Not so. My baseline is 30 pull ups several times a week, with a counter balance of 40 pounds on an assisted pull up machine.
This week's challenge is to add 3 planks and 30-50 push ups per day in addition to your regular work out at different intervals. *break for 20 push ups* I'm back. This is really amping things up. My first plank was 30 seconds, my longest so far is 65 seconds. Supposedly, 2 minutes is the benchmark to shoot for, and I have a few more days to go.
On another note, November is feeling cold, cloudy and dreary. Perfect nap weather. *break for nap* Wow, I thought I just lost this post, but it came back. It's so boring, I knew I wouldn't have the energy to re-write it.
My new schedule is 9:00-6:00 Monday through Thursday. One advantage to working until 6:00 pm is having dinner on the table when I get home. I have to say, Pat has really stepped up in the cooking department. One delicious dinner he made was pork chops dipped in egg and Ritz Crackers. It was literally like Crack, one bite and I couldn't stop.
I don't believe in Christmas coming before Thanksgiving, however this year I already jumped the gun. Before Halloween, I had some colored lights I got from my mom's downsizing project and so I strung them all over our tiny Spruce, Bruce, outside. I haven't turned it on yet, but I still feel a little guilty. I also started Christmas shopping, mostly stocking stuffers that I see and can't resist. For some reason, I am now in the mood to decorate my dollhouse for Christmas. *break for miniature lights and tress* Okay, that's done now. The roofers have finally come...I need a cute, clever address for my house. Any ideas?
Lisa and Maggie playing in the attic.
The living room:
Monday, October 06, 2014
The Biggest Little Surprise
What does it mean when your children are grown and living on
their own but you still stock Blue G2, Smuckers PB&J’s, Hershey’s chocolate
syrup and whole milk? You randomly pick
up girlie stickers, paint brushes and High School Musical games? You might just be a Big Sister like me.
Raising my three boys, there were definite gaps in my teen
girl IQ. My little sister is educating me. I know the words to every Taylor
Swift song. I am knowledgeable about all things Monster High. I have someone to
try out crafts and art projects with. I have my own sous-chef and baker’s
assistant. I have an enthusiastic tennis and racquetball partner.
My little sister looks up to my boys and often asks where
they are and how they are doing. When they are home for the weekend she wants
to stay for dinner and quiz their girlfriends about relationships, in a way
only she can. She wonders what my husband is doing when he’s not home. She even
got over her fear of cats and jokes around with Miss Pearl.
In my family, we each have a drawer (called our “nook”) on
the first floor where we can throw our junk, so my little sister has her own
drawer at my house. It is full of pictures, games, art supplies, puzzles, scrapbooking
materials, and any odds and ends (think pinecones and ribbon) I deem of
possible interest to a creative young woman. There is a piece of blue tulle in
there, and she regularly wraps it around her head or waist and becomes a DJ or
Karaoke star.
We are into our fourth years as BBBS matches. I know I am
becoming more a part of her life because she wants me attend her choir concerts
and calls me up to let me know she got First at her bowling tournament. Her big
sister before me died at a young age (my age), and she speaks of her often. We
spent one afternoon locating her marker at the cemetery, and have been back
once more to visit. Sometimes people ask me how long I plan on being a Big
Sister. My little sister is 13, so my math says in five more years she will be 18.
I’m all in if she is.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Minneapolis
My parents and I had the privilege of seeing and listening
to a man who was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2001. He has a PhD in Psychology
and is one of the best speakers I have heard in a long time. His name is
Richard Taylor, and he has dementia. Hard to believe. He could speak more
fluently and eloquently than I could on my most lucid day. His message was as
an advocate of people with dementia, to be treated with dignity and as if they
are living, not dying. He says not to lie to people or walk into their
delusions. He says we treat people with dementia as if they are getting more
and more holes in them, when in reality, we are always whole, aren’t we?
As long as I can remember my father has verbalized his
biggest fear: falling into the grips of
dementia, hardening of the arteries, Alzheimer’s, senility, whatever the current phrase. At
one point, my mother threw out all our aluminum pots and pans, when dementia
was briefly linked to that. Working as long
possible, volunteering as much possible, performing on stage, and doing daily
crossword puzzles were all part of my parent’s antidote to the possibility of developing
dementia. My father’s fear was largely due to watching his mother and other
family members slowly lose their cognitive functioning, that being something my
father made his livelihood on (teaching at the university level). My
grandmother lived with us, as her dementia took hold. She wandered, repeated,
forgot things, became paranoid, accusatory and finally combative. For some
reason, I became the object of her ire. I always knew she didn’t like me, but
it became pretty hostile when I was in high school, which I admit I didn’t
really understand. By college, I could deal much better and even came home sometimes
to keep an eye on her while my parents got away for the opera or to visit
friends. Luckily for Dad, my husband remarks frequently how sharp his father-in-law’s
mind and wits are.
The question I most wanted to ask Dr. Taylor was if he
thought it was okay that our family uses humor to deal with the prospect of
dementia amongst ourselves? What we do is call out “Minneapolis” as soon as
someone (anyone, any age) tells a story we have heard before, most likely, many
times before. The term comes from a
memorable car trip with an aging relative in throes of dementia, who asked
anyone and everyone approximately every five minutes, “Have you ever been to
Minneapolis?” Minneapolis has spawned the term Dallas, which is when you know
you are telling a Minneapolis story, but are doing it intentionally. The
lastest wrinkle, is to call out Albuquerque when someone tells a story you’ve never heard before.
Dr. Taylor used a lot of humor in his talks, for example, he
admitted to a phase of “wandering,” but said “I wasn’t wandering, I was going
somewhere, I just don’t know where the hell I was going.” He also compared the tubing on an old enema
bag to what he imagined hardening of the arteries to look like. If I had to
guess, I would say he would approve of our humor, and when we we lose that, we
just might be in trouble.
Friday, September 05, 2014
Confessions of an Empty-Nester
Not surprisingly, I have been asked more than once, how I am doing with the empty nest syndrome. It was not long after Eli and Cal were both lodged in their apartments near Illinois State University that I started noticing little differences around the house, most of them nice little benefits. I wasn't sure if there would be much change, since Eli was in New Jersey all summer and Cal was busy working and playing with his homies. However, here are few things that hit me these past three weeks:
- I can lock all the doors every night because we don't have to worry if "someone" remembered their house key
- I can walk from the bathroom to the bedroom (or wherever) in a towel or less without fear of scaring anyone to death
- The weekly grocery bill is under $100 and the cart looks positively empty (I can splurge on T-bone steak since we can get by on one)
- I might be able to get Pat to eat healthy now. I didn't have a chance when it was 4 or 3 against 1
- Leftovers can be safely put away immediately after dinner
- The house stays remarkably clean
- It is a huge joy to be able to help our kids financially and emotionally now rather than the physicality that was put into their early years
- Time with the boys (Adam included) becomes that much more special. Eli and Cal joined me in Louisville this past weekend and it was absolutely amazing to have that time together.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Half of Nothing is Everything
There's an essay circulating around Facebook called "16 Things Only Half-Siblings Understand." I've tried not to use that term, which I despise, half brother, with my boys. To me they are brothers, even though they have different last names and different dads. I realize because of the almost five year age difference, some people don't know Adam is related to Eli and Cal, or that the younger boys even have an older brother, and vice versa.
The realization that Adam had a different dad and would go off with him periodically when they were little, I believe led Eli to invent "my dad with the monkeys" who was his imaginary dad who owned an ice cream store, and a castle and an amusement park. He must have found it quite mysterious and wondrous that Adam had another life outside of our family, so much that he created his own make-believe world away from us. This prompted Cal to chime in with what cool stuff he got to do with "my dad with the giraffes." Later we were all able to spend time with Adam's paternal grandparents going to Nebraska football games and chilling at the lake.
One incident really gave me pause in how I portrayed our family. A friend pointed out to me that my answering machine message said, "Please leave a message for Pat, Susan, Eli or Cal," excluding Adam completely. I don't know why I did this (he had his own cell phone?), and I was floored when it was pointed out to me. After that I became hypersensitive to making sure Adam was included in pictures, messages, letters, cards, etc.
I feel a lot of shame at what I just wrote. The truth is, Adam has been the longest term relationship of my adult life. He has been with me longer than my marriage, or any other friendships. I know we are bonded by that, however awkward different stages have been. I can't tell you how pissed off I was when an ignorant clergy once suggested that I hadn't raised Adam, because somehow his faulty memory or the fact that he didn't want to attend his f---ing stupid services drew him to the conclusion I had abdicated my responsibility as a parent. *probably need to let go of that resentment*
Adam actually helped me attract my current spouse, helped keep us together in ways he may not even know, and was even a chick magnet for his Uncle Chris. Yes, he was a pretty cute, awesome and precocious tyke. I've always called him my "best boy" and I want him to know he is 1/3 of my Everything.
The realization that Adam had a different dad and would go off with him periodically when they were little, I believe led Eli to invent "my dad with the monkeys" who was his imaginary dad who owned an ice cream store, and a castle and an amusement park. He must have found it quite mysterious and wondrous that Adam had another life outside of our family, so much that he created his own make-believe world away from us. This prompted Cal to chime in with what cool stuff he got to do with "my dad with the giraffes." Later we were all able to spend time with Adam's paternal grandparents going to Nebraska football games and chilling at the lake.
One incident really gave me pause in how I portrayed our family. A friend pointed out to me that my answering machine message said, "Please leave a message for Pat, Susan, Eli or Cal," excluding Adam completely. I don't know why I did this (he had his own cell phone?), and I was floored when it was pointed out to me. After that I became hypersensitive to making sure Adam was included in pictures, messages, letters, cards, etc.
I feel a lot of shame at what I just wrote. The truth is, Adam has been the longest term relationship of my adult life. He has been with me longer than my marriage, or any other friendships. I know we are bonded by that, however awkward different stages have been. I can't tell you how pissed off I was when an ignorant clergy once suggested that I hadn't raised Adam, because somehow his faulty memory or the fact that he didn't want to attend his f---ing stupid services drew him to the conclusion I had abdicated my responsibility as a parent. *probably need to let go of that resentment*
Adam actually helped me attract my current spouse, helped keep us together in ways he may not even know, and was even a chick magnet for his Uncle Chris. Yes, he was a pretty cute, awesome and precocious tyke. I've always called him my "best boy" and I want him to know he is 1/3 of my Everything.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
I had to use Dictionary.com three times for this Post
I thought I was doing fine. I was excited for and proud of Cal for his financial intelligence, organizing skills, and ebullience over finally getting out of Macomb. I wasn't even cranky with him the last few days. He took off today with a van not too full of stuff. But on the way home from work it hit me. I started bawling a couple blocks out of the parking lot. I almost caused an accident crossing Washington Street in front of an oncoming car. I remembered his first day of Kindergarten, and never having a problem with the older boys, balked at the idea of this being any kind of emotional milestone. More like wrecking ball (thank you Miley Cyrus). That day and today, the day he left for college.
Maybe it was the pressure I am putting on myself at work, which has caught the attention of my supervisor and a trusted colleague, just today, and is not assuaged by any amount of reassurance. Maybe it's menopause. Maybe I feel bad that my former co-workers are picketing 24/7 for a fair teaching contract. Full moon, Mercury in Retrograde?
Whatever the confluence of events, the empty nest is a real emotional minefield, whether or not I expected it. Luckily Eli and I are driving over tomorrow and switching vehicles. I'm looking forward to getting out of town and making sure they both have what they need in their apartments, maybe even grab a cup of coffee in a cute shop in Uptown. But right now I just want to veg out with a book and a plate of No Bake Cookies. And a box of tissues.
Maybe it was the pressure I am putting on myself at work, which has caught the attention of my supervisor and a trusted colleague, just today, and is not assuaged by any amount of reassurance. Maybe it's menopause. Maybe I feel bad that my former co-workers are picketing 24/7 for a fair teaching contract. Full moon, Mercury in Retrograde?
Whatever the confluence of events, the empty nest is a real emotional minefield, whether or not I expected it. Luckily Eli and I are driving over tomorrow and switching vehicles. I'm looking forward to getting out of town and making sure they both have what they need in their apartments, maybe even grab a cup of coffee in a cute shop in Uptown. But right now I just want to veg out with a book and a plate of No Bake Cookies. And a box of tissues.
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