Oh, how I long for the simpler days gone by… I don’t think I’m cut out for living in this age.

Going to try a little experiment. I’m posting a video of the band and see what happens. This post may or may not be here tomorrow, depending.

We’re having another stressful siege with PD’s health.  This time it’s not Meniere’s-related.  We don’t think so anyway.

Several months ago he started having intermittent problems swallowing.  In a relatively short period of time it became more and more frequent and it became obvious that it was time to see a doctor.  An endoscopy was set up with the intent of stretching the Schatzki ring and while they were down there it was decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a couple of snips for biopsy. That was June 10th.  He’s not been able to eat solid food since midnight on June 9th.  Yeah.

Weird part is that he’s had the endoscopy done twice before, and the ring stretched also, with no problems.  Sometimes people have a narrowing of the opening of the esophagus.  That narrowing is called the Schatzki ring and there is a procedure called an esophogeal dilation using a balloon to stretch it to enable easier swallowing.  It’s not always permanent and often the stretching is needed every so often.

Normally the procedure doesn’t merit any kind of problems or follow-up.  We have been back to the doctor once, to the emergency room and back to the hospital for more tests.  Xrays have been taken, 2 CT scans done and two barium swallows to check for perforations or tears in the esophogeal wall.  The biopsies both came back normal.

PD is having severe pain (like a very sore throat) accompanied by a kind of spasming in his neck and throat area on one side.  Often times when he is able to eat (those times are becoming more frequent, thankfully, considering that he has lost a considerable amount of weight) his throat will spasm to the point where he has to stop eating until it subsides.  He’s been able to eat yogurt, pudding, a little icecream, broth and a liquid nutritional supplement.  He was very weak for days but is getting some of his strength back.

His gastrointestinal doc is rather baffled as to what is going on.  He’s prescribed an antibiotic on the off chance of the possibility of an infection in there.  The improvement has not been great but he does feel a little better so maybe there was some infection in there.  Hard to tell.

He’s seeing an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist on Tuesday and we’re hoping to get some answers and treatment then.  He’s angry and frustrated and I can’t blame him at all. Plus, I’m tiring of eating in the closet.  I don’t like to eat real food in front of him, he gets jealous.  And he keeps trying to smell my food and that’s just weird.

I am near the end of my 12-day vacation.  The original plan was to stay home and enjoy my house and yard and husband and get together with some friends.  Our grandson was going to spend a week or so with us.  There was a point where it seemed that a hospital stay for PD was a possibility so that plan was cancelled.  I’m not sure who was most disappointed.  As it turned out, so far, no hospital stay.  But it’s not been much fun for any of us.  But PD has gotten caught up on several hundred episodes of MacGyver and Bones.  And no, that was not fun for anyone else but PD.  Meaning me.

In case you don’t know, my husband suffers from Meniere’s Disease. He was diagnosed, if I remember correctly, in 2003.  He’s been a Bilateral Meniere’s patient since 2000.  He’s on a pretty good selection of medications for the dizziness and other symptoms that go along with the disease.  He’s had surgeries that were temporary fixes.  Meniere’s isn’t a well-known disease and there is not a lot of research being done.  There is no cure but it can go into remission.

Sleep disturbances are a big part of life for PD.  He’s was on 4 medications alone to deal with that issue.  We’ve been trying to get him off some of his meds which don’t seem to be helping and/or are not covered by his medical insurance plan.  One of those meds is Clonazepam (Klonipin) and he’s been taking it for about 10 years.  After discussing it with his doctor, he followed her instructions for weaning off the drug.  That was three weeks ago and he’s been having a terrible time since.  It breaks my heart to see him come downstairs, bleary-eyed and edgy from spending hours trying to get some sleep. I now know first-hand what drug users must go through in detox, except without the benefit of other drugs to help with the withdrawal.  He’s adamant about not going back on the Klonopin and is limited in what he can take to ease the symptoms because of the other drugs he must stay on.  Just today I came across this article and will be giving it a good read.

I’m not only concerned about the hell he’s going through, as the days go by I’m getting more and more irate with the non-chalance with which some doctors prescribe these drugs.  From all the research I’ve been doing it seems to be a common problem.  I’ve also learned that he probably should not have been taking the drug for as long as he has been.  It was a low dose but taking it for so long has made the withdrawal that much more difficult.

I could make this a more lengthy diatribe on the insensitivity of the medical community but I won’t.  And don’t even get me started on the negligence of drug companies or the FDA.  What I need to stress to you is that before you start taking any medication, please please please discuss it in depth with your doctor and do some research.  Often times the “fix” is more dire than the actual problem.

And if you are so inclined, a prayer or two for PD would be much appreciated.

Anyway.  I was making noticeable progress. The day of my initial visit, I had woken up feeling like I could barely move my neck.  I felt like my whole clavicle was out of whack and the pain was making me nauseous.  I called off work that day, called the chiropractor and his lovely receptionist uttered those miraculous words, “How soon can you be here?”  That was roughly 3 weeks ago.

By this past Monday I was feeling quite human once again.  I’ve gotten in the habit of moving gracefully as opposed to using any quick, jerky movements to give my neck a nice rest and to let it enjoy it’s new “home.”  Read: where it’s supposed to be, as in no place like…

And then… picture it.  I’m cleaning up my work area in the clean room at work.  I’ve been training another girl to do a job that I used to do.  It’s time for her to put information in the system and I am walking toward her to make sure she’s doing it right.  In the mean time, there is another girl, a big girl (and if I say she weighs in the neighborhood of 300+ pounds, I am not exaggerating) standing off to the side of my path.  Suddenly, the big girl steps backward, directly into me, knocking me off balance.  Before I realize what’s happening, I’m careening toward trainer girl.  Rather than crash down on her, I throw out my left arm to grab the edge of her desk to catch myself.  Hindsight being as they say 20-20, I may have been better off just crashing down on top of trainer girl.

I not only jarred my left wrist but I twisted my neck and spine (at the waist) when I caught myself.  Reading this, it sounds worse than it actually was.  It’s just that after having no less than six or seven adjustments, I now feel like everything the chiropractor has done has been un-done.  Right this minute I have ice on my wrist (new injury) and heat on my shoulders.  I imagine that in a day or two I will feel fine.  I’m due for my next adjustment on Monday evening.

I imagine the whole scene looked rather comical to a bystander.  There is me, a scrawny little 118 pounds bouncing off the back end of the big person.  It all happened so fast, I wasn’t entirely sure what hit me until the big person said, “Are you ok? I didn’t see you there.”  I’m thinking, obviously.

It’s difficult to relate this without sounding a certain way.  But there are physics in play here and it happened.  My own personal thought is that when you have a body, big or small, you tend to have a feel for the space you inhabit.  Apparently that is not always the case and accidents do happen.

On a loosely related note,  the same day I witnessed a woman very nearly get struck by a truck about 50 feet away from me.  Oddly enough, while her heart may have suffered more of a jolt than mine, she’s probly relaxing comfortably right now.

This is where I’m supposed to write the wrap-up with some intelligible thought to tie it all together and make some profound conclusion or something, right?  I don’t know what that would be.  I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time like the lady who stepped in front of the truck, thinking it would stop for her.  She may have simply used poor judgement.  I maybe should have anticipated the possibility that the big girl wasn’t going to stand where she was indefinitely and that she had no idea I was behind her.  It’s not as if I’d assumed she was equipped with a beeping back-up alarm because that would just be ridiculous.  But I will tell you that until this aching reminder wears off, I will be a bit more cautious when anyone approaches MY SPACE.  lol  I totally didn’t see that coming either!  ah ha ha.

The End.

(ps. yes, of course  i know that myspace is totally yesterday’s news)

Early this past summer he called me outside to see a bunny in our backyard.  There I saw this little guy.  He had some trouble hopping and we decided that his right back paw had been broken at some time and never healed correctly. It’s not obvious in this photo but he also had part of his left ear missing.  Such a lot of turmoil he must have endured in his short little life.

Over the course of the summer, PD would throw carrots to him from a safe distance and we would watch him nibble them.  After a couple of weeks, he would show up several times during the day.  PD began keeping carrots in a plastic container just for the bunny and would shake them when he would go outside and after a time, the bunny would come close to the house for his daily treats.  PD started to call him Broken Foot.  As time went on, Broken Foot would come closer and closer until we could sit at our picnic table and he would merrily chomp down his treats a few feet away,  not afraid at all.

Neighborhood cats made us nervous a lot of the time.  There were two that we’d see now and then and were never sure if they were strays or if they belonged to someone.  A certain black one would show up at night and when we would see Broken Foot the next day we would feel relief, knowing that he had avoided a tangle with the cat.

Then one day another bunny showed up in our yard. Shortly after it became commonplace to see this bunny and Broken Foot playing together.  We decided it was a she and that she was BF’s girlfriend.  She was not as fearless and never came so close for carrots.

Nature being what it is,  a short time passed and PD called me out one day to show me a little nest covered with grass and bunny fur with five teeny tiny bunnies nestled inside.  PD had very nearly run over it with the lawn mower.  We were both excited for the Foot family and looked forward to watching them grow.  And we felt honored that they chose the relative safety of our yard to raise a family.

Sadly, the next day PD buried what was left of the babies after a cat had found the nest.  We grieved for Broken Foot and his Lady.

Time went on and Broken Foot grew to the size you see here.

Then late in October, Broken Foot didn’t show up and for two weeks, PD and I nervously watched along the road in front of our house expecting to see a little brown mound, figuring that he’d maybe run in front of a passing car.  We would see the Lady from time to time but she would be alone.

Then one cold snowy night, PD was looking out the back door and I was busy. I heard him rustling around and then I heard the door close.  I went to investigate and I found PD in the yard, with carrots welcoming Broken Foot back.  There was pure joy in his voice and I could tell how happy he was to see him.

BF took up residence first under the utility shed in the back yard.  PD would make sure the entrance to his hole was clear of snow and ice.  Lately with the cold, cold temperatures, he’s been living under our back porch.

Today when I came home from work, PD greeted me with the sad news that he’d found Broken Foot’s broken little body under our porch when he was putting a sled away that we’d decorated for Christmas with a wreath and bow.  He said it was obvious that he’d tangled with a cat, finally.  And lost.  He buried him in a special place.

You were a tough little bunny and you found a place in our hearts.  I hope there are no kitties where you are now.  XO

There’s also the outward examination.  I look in the mirror.  This exercise is becoming more painful as time passes.  I see the beginnings of wrink (ok, who am I kidding?)  I see the wrinkles deepening around my eyes and mouth . The gray hair taking over and the results of Mr. Gravity wreaking havoc on the rest of me.  The freckles on the backs of my hands aren’t freckles anymore (how does that happen?)  It takes me a little longer to bound out of bed in the morning and I don’t run up and down the steps as I always have. “Things” aren’t so firm and toned.  My skin requires constant hydrating to prevent it from taking on alligator characteristics… I have to constantly remind myself to stand up straight. It’s wearing me out!

Yeah, it’s bleak.  And if you’re behind me in age, I apologize if I’m scaring you to death.  But it’s a fact of life and it is frightening and I’m smack-dab in the middle of a panic.  I see so many women my age who seem to be just fine with where they are in life.  Of course, they’ve dyed the gray away in their hair.  Maybe they go to the gym faithfully.  Maybe they’ve had or are contemplating tummy-tucks and some facial reconstruction.  Maybe they’ve already experienced my panic and chose to take steps to fix things. Maybe they just don’t care.

The experiences my mom has endured this past year has forced me to look at my own stuff in a way I never have.  When I look at her, I see me in the future and I get panicky. I don’t wanna be frail.  I don’t wanna depend on other people to do things for me.  I don’t want to become bitter.  I don’t want to become bitter.  More than anything I don’t want to become bitter.

This might be the year that I change things.  Time is going to pass no matter what.  Aging is inevitable.  We’re born, we live, we die. But I don’t want to become bitter.

Let me say that I hate this post. It’s not what I wanted to say but I’m trying to work through this.  It’s giving me a hard time and I can’t hold it in.

Paul’s birthday is today.  He was born in 1959. He is my idol, my hero and has influenced my musical taste more than any other musician. Ever.  His lyrics are amazing, the likes of which I have rarely found.  His musical talent puts me in awe.

That’s all I really have to say.  But on the off chance that he’s reading here,

Paul Westerberg, I wish you a Wonderful Birthday.

Your Oldest and Most Devoted Fan,

Me.  Named after your song,

One Wink at a Time  XXXOOO

You get to a point in your life when everything and everyone else takes the front seat and your poor home life sits in the back and quietly watches the scenery whiz by while sitting there, hands folded in lap, sighing now and then while the miles click off one by one on the speedometer.  The gas gauge slowly depletes itself, the tread on the tires wears and the battery drains a little with each passing mile.  And yet the road stretches on ahead as the engine hums…

You approach a crucial intersection… not sure which way to turn or whether to blow on through that yellow light.  You realize that if you make a wrong turn, you’ll lose time trying to get back on the right road.  You’ve been traveling without a GPS speeding along with no consideration as to where you may end up.  You just drive and drive, gathering dust along the way.

Of course this is all an analogy.  But neglecting important parts of your life and home will leave you along the edge of the road with a flat tire and no jack, feeling even more helpless when you realize your needle is nearing E.

This post is a runaway train. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say when I started and I got so far off track that I can’t even remember where I wanted to go.  And now I’m stuck in this ridiculous analogy and I can’t steer my way out of it.

I’m going to stop here and I’ll come back tomorrow and write something of substance.  In the mean time, I’ll refuel, kick the tires and get back in the driver’s seat tomorrow.  And don’t even think about changing the  station.

On another note and in the same creative vein, PD and I are hard at work trying to get our living room redone in time for the holidays.  I must say, it’s looking pretty good.  The living room, I mean… not necessarily meeting the deadline.  It’s becoming clear to me that some other holiday preps are going to suffer due to the time it’s taking… things like gifts and wrapping and baking and things.  The carpet is due to be installed on December 2nd so that doesn’t leave much time for putting up the tree and decorations.  BUT this pretty much happens to me every year, one thing or another puts a crimp in my time frame.  And just like every year, it will all get done and the Holiday WILL happen and we will be grateful for times spent with the family and all the joy that entails.

In the mean time, if any of you have any free time laying around, you’re more than welcome to deposit it into my bank.  Every single second will be greatly appreciated.  Remember, the real Joy is in the Giving : )  Kthxbai.

I was wrong.  And now here I am with this ghastly-looking purple monstrosity.

Oh well.  It still reads the same.  Old news.  Same old news.

One tidbit, though, that I do have to share.  PD and I have been hard at work giving our living room a face lift.  It’s a slow process, indeed… Considering that I am tired when I get home from work during the week and our weekends are usually crammed full of other responsibilities.  What we have accomplished so far is making us both happy at least, so hopefully by the time the holidays roll around we will have a nice shiny new place for entertaining.

Vanished ~ Crystal Castles

Cello Song ~ The Books

Forever Young ~ Alphaville

Modern Man ~ Arcade Fire

White Moon ~ Beach House

The Devil and the Liar ~ Long Wave

Hard Enough ~ Brandon Flowers

Ghosts and Stuff ~ Deadmau5

Do You Love Me ~ Guster

Let’s Go Surfing ~ The Drums

Better Together ~ Jack Johnson

Coming Through ~ The War On Drugs

Best Friends ~ The Perishers

Arkansas ~ Damien Jurado

Cold Love ~ Tim Kasher

God and Satan ~ Biffy Clyro

Death ~ White Lies

Strangers in the Wind ~ Cut Copy

Reuben ~ Cathy Davey

The Sky is Blue ~ Dynamite Hack

Need You Now ~ Lady Antebellum

My Girls ~ Animal Collective

USA Boys ~ Health

We Are Young ~ 3OH!3

Telling Lies ~ Great Northern

Need to Shout ~ Architecture in Helsinki

Mouth Full of Diamonds ~ Phantogram

Every Car You Chase ~ Snow Patrol/Police Mashup

Hey We Will Rock Ya ~ Outkast/Queen Mashup

That’s about it for now.  Hope maybe you find something you like that you hadn’t heard before.  I don’t listen to Top 40′s mainstream radio so I don’t know what they’re playing these days…

Have a good weekend, y’all.

I walked into my studio with a feeling of excitement.  I haven’t painted or done any artwork  for way too long.  Over the past few years when that creative urge would hit me, there was always something pressing to take care of and I’d been stifled over and over and over again.  Part of me was terrified that the urge would disappear altogether after having squelched it for so long.

It became evident in the first five minutes that I was going to spend a great deal of time looking for paint, paper and brushes AND a clear spot on my desk.  There was really nothing that I could accomplish without first doing some organizing and clearing away.

So I spent the entire day yesterday, not painting, but working toward being able to.  But my, oh my, that was an experience.  I can’t say it was hard work.  Confusing maybe, and a little overwhelming at a couple points… but I enjoyed it.  After all, my studio is where I’m comfortable and surrounded by things that I love and which inspire me.  I found things that I’d lost long ago and/or forgotten that I even had.  I could write an entire post on that stuff alone.

I really should have taken some before pictures because you can’t really appreciate how hard I worked getting to the after part. As it is, the pictures look like a page out of Where’s Waldo? I would never believe that I could have accumulated so much stuff.  Some of it I need (supplies) but some of it I need (for inspiration, reference, etc.)

My Version of Where's Waldo?

You’re probly wondering what the heck it must have looked like before I spent hours filing away papers and labeling containers, right?  Well, let me tell you… it was a bit crazy in there.

By the time I stopped last night (and no, I’m not finished) it was ridiculous to even think of starting a project.  I have a bit more work to do in there, but at least I know that the next time the urge hits me, I can walk in, grab what I need and start painting.  And that’s a very good feeling.

Can You Say "Clutter?"

Do you have a place in your house where you keep all your stuff?  A place where you can relax and dream and be yourself and play?  We all need one.  And we need to go there often and not neglect it.  I’m vowing to spend more time there, maybe even go up right now.

Summer finally arrived and it’s slipping through my fingers like mercury.

We’ve just (barely) survived a couple weeks of sweltering humidity on top of 80-90 degree temperatures that demanded, pretty much, staying inside taking advantage of the AC and constantly whirring fans which totally get on my last nerve. I detest them.  Now today, finally, it seems the humidity has left us and I was actually able to sit comfortably on my porch and enjoy my morning coffee with the birds and flowers.  That is one of my Life’s Favorite Pastimes.

So, God willing, here is how I’m hoping to spend what’s left of my precious Summer~

Next weekend I plan to travel back to my hometown to spend the weekend with my BFF Kate, who’s been my BFF since the first grade. The County Fair will be going on and we will OD ourselves on it as we have together, more years than not since we became BFFs.  Added bonus~ late-night catching up on what’s new with each other and reliving great memories.  Kate can make me laugh like nobody else and there are always tears and sore laugh muscles involved.  Yes, I am looking forward to that like crazy.

Later this month brings our Family Reunion. Not your normal reunion. I think you have to have a normal family in order to have a normal reunion… ; ) But we camp at our family park at my father’s homestead and it lasts for three days for some of us.  And we have such a hella good time that 3 days is usually not enough.  Yeah, I have some truly great relatives.  We have made some awesome memories over the years.  I cherish those times when so many of the people I love so very much are all in one place.

Next month my Godson is getting married. It promises to be a wonderful celebration with family and friends. The added bonus is that it will be something to look forward to instead of mourning the end of the Summer for me.

I found out yesterday that one of my favorite bands of all time, Yeasayer, will be in concert the end of September near me.  I will be able to check off an item on my Bucket List if I can go, and I intend to.

So, being that the first couple months of the Summer have flown by, filled up with a bunch of crap that I’m not even going to go into here, I’m hell-bent on spending what’s left with some fun stuff to make up for the other. Maybe somehow Time will magically slow down and this dizzy feeling will go away.

I’ve recently had my future show up at my door. Unexpectedly and knocking loudly. I kind of knew that it was lurking about out there and that sooner or later I would have to open the door and invite it in.  But somehow I had convinced myself that it would patiently wait until I was good and ready to entertain it.

For most of my life I could look out the peep hole and just enjoy the view. There were lots of beautiful sights to see.  Pretty and happy sights.  Then a few years ago, one day I looked out and the picture I was accustomed to seeing seemed a bit dimmer.  Less sharp and clear and somewhat tinged.  Let’s say the colors began to look a little washed out and a sepia effect was starting to bleed in.  If you’re not familiar with a sepia tone, think old photographs.  Not exactly black and white but sort of brownish yellow.  Now picture a sepia rainbow.  There are no brilliant vivid colors, just some lighter tans fading to darker tan.  Hard to distinquish and not nearly so interesting or festive.

I don’t mean to sound all Doom’s Day-ish.  I’m speaking reality. My reality.  And using my normal look the other way tactic just won’t hold water anymore.  There’s no avoiding the inevitable.

It’s called the Circle of Life.  We’re born, we live, and if we’re lucky we have the opportunity to age and then finally die.  We move through the Seasons of our lives from Spring to Winter.  It’s gradual and barely imperceptible.  Mostly.

There comes a point, though when we’re forced to face our immortality.  This point comes in many forms.  For me, a mirror is the vehicle.  I’m not only speaking of the moment each day when I wake up and actually see my face in the bathroom mirror; when I take stock of new sags and wrinkles and skin variations that were or were not there the previous day.  Yeah, that’s not exactly a picnic. But what I’m referring to is the mirror that is my Mom.  She’s where I will be in twenty years or less.

I’ve had to open my door and look reality full in the face.  I was only slightly prepared and accepting it or not is no longer and option but a necessity.

I’ve had to realize that at some point, bounding out of bed in the morning will not be an option.  That one day I may be dependent on someone else to make sure my daily needs are attended to.  That everything about my independence that I took for granted will poof like a soap bubble in the wind.  That my dignity may be compromised.  That seeing, hearing, walking, talking, dancing, typing, and even thinking will no longer be effortless.

It will help, I know, to have a good attitude.  To have loving family and friends around to help me get by.  Good eating habits and exercise may prolong the process and maybe make it less painful or more manageable.  But only that.  There’s no escaping the end result.

I’m not sure how you deal with this, or if you’ve even had to.  But we’re all in this together and even though it’s a very personal thing, it’s something we all have to face at some point.  I have my own thoughts and feelings about what comes after and those will be my comfort and my salvation, if you will.  But you have to move from Point A to Point B and it’s not exactly a downhill slide in the sense that it’s going to be easy.  Reality isn’t exactly a smooth paved path.

Forgive me if  I’m seeming all dire and morbid.  It’s simply where I am right now.  I didn’t want to open that door.  I was content enough to just take things day by day, putting one foot in front of the other and reminding myself to exhale every so often.

I will come to terms with it all at some point.  I won’t like it and I’ll fight it with every cell in my body and every neuron in my little brain.  But right now, it’s too fresh.  Too frightening and too claustrophobic.  I just had to get this out, carrying it around was wearing me out.  I have too much else to do.  And a time frame that’s shrinking a little every day.

I didn’t realize how much I needed that damn rug.

On June 2nd,  my Mama fell and injured her hip.  This required surgery, a short hospital stay and then admittance to a nursing home where she would receive therapy for two weeks or so.  Luckily the facility is minutes from my home and I’ve been able to visit with her nearly every day.

If you’ve never had a similar experience, you understand the anxiety I experienced anticipating what it would be like to see a parent in such a situation.

Nursing homes, or the idea of them, stir up many emotions and images.  I can tell you that you’re probly pretty accurate if you imagine negative things like bad smells, lonely people,  and sights and sounds that are hard to see and hear.

The first couple of visits were real eye-openers for me.  I forced myself to “rock up” and keep my mom’s welfare at the forefront of my perspective.  Otherwise I could probly never have been able to return.  Seeing people suffer is something that tears me up.  So many sights that I’ve seen there keep haunting me and I have to consciously replace the images with more positive things, like the day we take Mom home to finish her recuperation.

I do know a couple of things for sure.  Number one, I pray that my mom never needs to return there.  Not because the care she’s received hasn’t been acceptable but because it has not been good for her emotionally.  There is no such thing as privacy or peace and quiet.  And there’s nothing like your own bed or real home-cooking when your body is healing.  Number two, I would never last a day in one of those places.  I’m not that strong.  PD and I have been discussing, at length, alternatives in case either of us are ever faced with the need.  I can’t even tell you some of the extreme measures that have been brought up, some in a humorous vein,  others, not so much.  Which brings me to a third realization I’ve had and that is this~ A sense of humor is not only desirable but absofuckinglutely crucial in the situation.

Lack of time is the only thing that’s keeping me from sharing this in a more poignant, informational and detailed manner.  I have a literal ton of things to say regarding the last 3 1/2 weeks, mostly emotional issues I’m experiencing but that will have to wait.  PD’s father had surgery yesterday and there are some things he’s going to need also.  Another story for another day…

Thanks for listening.

I read this earlier this week and when I did, it didn’t really sink in.  I was too distracted and busy with other thoughts and concerns. Something told me to go back to it and I just did.  And it more than sunk in this time.  I could have written it, with all that I’ve been feeling lately.  My first thought was, is this exclusive to women?  And the answer, I think is absolutely yes.

As women, we have the luxury of feeling protected for much of our lives.  I try never to take that for granted.  We owe so much to our men… our fathers, our brothers, our husbands, even our sons.  Not to mention all the other men who touch our lives…  And yet, there are times and situations where there is no such thing as a safety net or someone to “have our backs.”  There are times when decisions have to be made and situations need to be dealt with and it’s entirely up to us to muster our courage and our strength to do what we feel is right and necessary.  How we deal in those times are testaments to our character and either make us or break us.

I have witnessed some amazing accomplishments by women lately, in particular, in the case of my own dear Mother.  She recently fell and injured her upper thigh/hip. This required surgery and spending time in an assisted-care facility for rehab.  All during this ordeal, the “elephant in the room” which to this point has not been spoken of, but was the obvious fact that everything would have been made better somehow if my dad were still alive and here for her to lean on and offer strength and assurance.  Not only would it have made a difference to her, but to my brothers and my sister and I.  It’s a scary feeling to share the responsibility of the welfare of a parent.  If you’ve never been in this position, lucky you.  It’s daunting.  I’m hugely grateful to have a big family and to have the luxury of sharing the responsibility with siblings.  I can’t imagine having to deal with the decision-making alone, not to mention tending to her daily needs, both physical and emotional.

There’s way more I could say on this subject and what I’m feeling right now, but time prevents the saying.  The feeling, though?  That growing up is tough but that growing old is worse.  But I’m concentrating on the gratitude… that my mom is finding the strength to be awesomely amazing on her path, despite the bogs and precipices.

I decided I wanted to try the new Google Chrome.  I told him and he said  fine, put it on your laptop, leave the PC alone. No problem.  I downloaded it on the laptop. Might just be a coincidence but when I type anything, it comes up backwards.  Like if I wrote Numbskull it would come up lluksbmuN.  What the heck??? I haven’t turned it on today, kind of afraid to.

Did I ever tell you about the time… I was about 14.  Dad bought this huge beautiful console color TV that cost $800. That was a big deal then for us.  A couple of days later he brought this huge magnet home from work that someone gave him. It was about the size of my fist with a handle on it.  We kids were screwing around with it and I found out that if you ran the magnet across the TV screen, it would pull the picture and I was making people’s faces all contorted.  It was big fun up until… Well…. When I stopped, the peoples’ faces didn’t go back the way they were supposed to. I freaked.  Dad was working the night shift and wouldn’t find out until morning but I cried myself to sleep that night, worrying that I’d ruined that expensive TV. The next morning my mom woke me up to tell me the TV was ok when she turned it on.  So I’m hoping when I fire up the laptop, it will miraculously be ok too.  Wish me luck… I’ll let you know.

Then a couple of years ago when he became a huge fan of The Airborne Toxic Event, he started talking again about getting a tattoo but of something to do with the band.  Then more recently, the band Train‘s song Calling All Angels moved him to want a tattoo of the song title surrounding an intricate cross.

I’d had some money saved up and when his birthday came in April, so I made a coupon good for the tattoo of his choice and tucked it in his birthday card.  It was then that he started very seriously thinking of getting inked.  He spent a lot of time researching and deciding on exactly what he wanted.  But it came to the point where he couldn’t decide between his two final choices.  Neither one a panther, anything to do with TATE nor Angels.

I had an extra day off after we returned from Buffalo last Sunday and we decided that we would take that time and go visit a studio we’d always wondered about. And we did, mostly just to ask some questions and check out prices, etc.

The studio had six artists on staff and only one was not busy. Jerry began talking with him while I was nosing around at tons of pictures framed on the walls.  The artist’s name was Matt.  After talking a bit, Matt left the room and PD confided that he seemed strangely familiar to him but couldn’t place him.  Anyway, he showed Matt the two designs that he’d taken pictures of on his phone.  The larger of the two designs, Matt said would take a couple of hours and PD would have to make an appointment.  They decided that Wednesday would suit both of them. PD asked if he could possibly have the time to do the smaller tattoo and Matt studied it a bit and said that he could.  I’d never dreamed that when we walked in there that PD would be walking out with a tattoo.

PD filled out a release form while we talked to Matt and he answered a ton of questions that we thought of during the course of the conversation.  Matt made a stencil of the tat and checked with PD to make sure the size was good for the inside of his left forearm. Being that we hadn’t planned that PD would get a tattoo that day, I didn’t have my camera so I will only have the one “after” picture to share.  But I asked Matt if he would mind terribly if I did a blog post about the next session and he was very receptive.  So Part II will be more in depth and have pictures to go along.

Here is the end result.  It is the Chinese symbol for Patience and PD is hoping that it will be a constant reminder of something that he feels he lacks on a fairly regular basis.  I think it looks great and suits him.  He’s quite happy with it also.

As I was rooting through “the Kids’ Corner,” I found myself rapt in memories of times long ago, good memories.  Memories of a simpler time.  Looking at special baby clothes that I’d saved made me hungry to hold a baby.  Not just any baby, but one of mine.  Michael and Jennifer were two of the World’s Greatest Babies.  Both were beautiful beyond imagination and joys to take care of.  Sure there were fussy times and scary times as there are with all babies.  But looking back, I’m beyond positive that I would do it all again.   Of course, times were different then.  There were not so many conveniences.  There were no vibrating baby chairs that would lull the baby to sleep while Mama took care of other things.  There were no microwaves to heat bottles.  There were disposable diapers but I was as stubborn then as I am now.  (And environmentally conscious too)  but real diapers didn’t work well for me and my babies each had the wicked diaper rashes as proof.  I caved in the interest of my children’s bums and used the cursed all-absorbent land-filling disposables.

But back to my thoughts of simpler times.  How did everything get so complicated in a span of just 20-30 years?  Everything has become so specialized.  Used to be if you were going to cook something, you just did it.  You grabbed a pan and turned on the stove.  Now there are tons of different kinds of cookware depending on if you’re grilling, nuking, using a convection oven, toaster oven, whatever.  It’s become a big old circus.  And yet so many of us opt for grabbing something out of the freezer, throwing a paper towel over it and blasting the living shit out of it in a microwave.  That includes vitamins, enzymes and all the other things that are supposed to be in food.  All in the interest of saving time.  And ultimately starving our bodies of much-needed stuff like nutrients.

Do you remember when soap was soap?  It was something you washed with.  Now when something needs cleaned, your choices are endless.  You have bath and shower gels, body bars, pump sprays, scrubs, liquids, lotions, beads, oils, scented, unscented, emollients, exfoliators, with and without sunscreen, vitamin-enriched, organic, yadda badda bing. I could go on but I won’t.

Used to be if you had a headache, you simply took a freakin’ aspirin.  Now, omigawd, by the time you decide what to take, either your headache is a) gone or b) has escalated to migraine level which necessitates a whole ‘nother kind of pain reliever with about a gazillion other options.

Yeah well, I was just taking a break from the attic thing and needed to let some thoughts out.  Back to the sifting and sorting.  Anyone interested in six large boxes of slightly used stuffed animals?

Conversation going on in the change room at work today…

Keep in mind, the room is about 20 by 40 feet.  At any given time there may be up to 50+ people in there, scrubbing up and/or changing into clean room gear.  There are racks of uniforms, hair covers and shoe covers, stainless sinks, loud Dyson hand dryers, a large table and four stainless benches.  Sound carries…

With that many people all trying to talk over one another, you hear many conversations, most of them loud.  Pretty much impossible not to overhear.

You may recall the woman I’ve told you about who I have a problem with.  The one who has the problem with all other races, creeds, sexual preferences, etc.  Well.  Today I found out she has a problem with “Artsy-types.”  Yes, you read that correctly.  And you may also assume that I took that very personally.  Not a lot more than any of her other prejudices, which I find offensive- but in a more personal way.

You see, there is a guy we work with who is nothing, if not colorful and interesting.  Literally and figuratively.  This week his mop of thick black hair is accented with a beautiful bright patch of neon turquoise.  The woman in question was giving him her standard third degree… What made you decide to do that?  How much did it cost?  Does it wash out?  Yadda yadda yadda.  I just rolled my eyes and gave him my “poor you” look.  I’m one of the few people who has taken the time to get to know him and actually have real, meaningful conversations with the kid.  Most of the women I work with are either intimidated by him or repulsed by his style.  They’ve never taken the time to find out that he’s really nice and funny and a great conversationalist.

As soon as Mr. Prettyhair left the room, she started.  Keep in mind, she “hangs” with a group of older and judgemental women who go to church functions and pride themselves in their quote Christianity unquote.

After pretty much dissecting the poor kid and his wardrobe, jewelry and hair, she proclaimed that his need to “express himself” was way out of whack.  Or something to that effect.  And she added, “My daughter-in-law is one of those artsy types, so you can imagine how I worry about how my grandson will turn out.”  Then, if that wasn’t enough, she went on to describe an “artistic” boy who works at the grocery store.  Don’t get her wrong, she stressed, he’s a nice kid and all, but…  To which one of her cronies replied, “Did you say autistic or artistic?”  and they all hooted and hollered in laughter.  I thought I was gonna go ballistic on each and every one of their asses right then and there. Of course I was not part of the conversation and to intercede would make me as rude ok not AS rude as they are.

You know me well enough to know that just about all of my personal principles were offended and slaughtered to shreds in that short period of time.  Rather than cause a scene, I quickly left the room and returned to my desk and seethed for about 10 minutes and did some deep breathing exercises.  I also vowed that, given the opportunity, no, wait.  I will try not to say it.  But in my head, I’ll be saying, “You know, your own personal brand of narrow-mindedness is WAY more offensive, shocking and down-right dangerous than any sort of artistic expression I have ever witnessed.”

Man, when I think about it, going off on her (and her friends)  would be the ultimate masterpiece of  artistic expression.

Confession:  I have an old-fashioned school girl crush on Robert Francis.  I’ve been listening to this song for ages and never get tired of it.  First I fell in love with the song.  Then when I saw what he looked like, I was all, like, WOW.  Sure, he’s a little wee bit scruffy but I picture him clean-shaven with a haircut wearing boots and a long coat kind of like this.  So maybe you can understand the appeal.  Anyway, I was excited as heck when the official video came out for Junebug.  I had already made up kind of a movie in my head.  Now I found the live version of the song and yeah.  Oh yeah.  It’s official.  Paul Westerberg and PD have nothing to worry about but I REALLY like Robert Francis.  And OMG when he says “Merci beau coup” at the end,  je vais cuckoo. (Il me faut un docteur.)   Il est chaud!

As you may know, I have a birthday coming up this weekend.  I’ve compiled a little of my own birthday trivia for your amusement…

• I was born on Albert Einstein’s birthday.  And although Robert Francis and Paul Westerberg and Gael Garcia-Bernal and PD all hold places   (varying degrees) of importance in my heart, Albert is my hero.  (As is TC)
• My birthday is pi. (3.14)

• This is kind of a new development, but I now celebrate my birthday along with, or should I say, in conjunction with Steak and BJ day.  I’m quite anxious to hear your humorous, yet tasteful, comments about this…
• I also share my birthday with Michael Caine and Liza Minelli.  I’m sure there are others but I grew up knowing of these two.

• I am  Piscean and that means I’m about as cool as you can get, not to mention impractical, intuitive and mysterious.  But you knew that.

Ok, these bullets totally screwed up and I can’t fix them because I’m a Pisces and I don’t give a sh** because I don’t.

PS I got a comment that is, for all intents and purposes, spam. But I left it on my sidebar because it  made me laugh like hell.  It’s Mr. Fordinsnorkel or something to that effect.  Look over there in my side bar, read what he wrote and click on his name and prepare to LOL.

Dry itchy Winter skin has me wanting to rip my skin off.  I’m tired of slathering on face cream and hand cream and body lotion. I’m sick to death of my daily routine.  I’m sick and tired of piling on clothes and wearing coats and gloves and bulky socks and scarves.  Heavy comforters and real pajamas are getting old.  I’m tired listening to people talk about snow and cold temperatures.  And these are all small annoyances as well, considering.

We’ve had a couple of warmer, sunny days here in PA and the excitement and relief is slipping away already.  I feel like I’ve been ruined somehow by this dastardly Winter that we’ve had and have not yet put behind us.  I find myself thinking that I can’t/won’t/don’t ever want to see another Winter as long as I live.  It took something out of me and I’m not sure what.  It made me tired, I know that.  I feel like I’ve aged 5 years in 4 short months (that seemed more like years.)   Depending on where you’re reading this, you may or may not understand.

Ok, I need to stop writing.  I’m on the PC and for some reason PD says the laptop won’t go online.  WTF. The good news is that my iTunes is up now…

I’m going to bed.  But first I’m having a drink to send off  Mark Linkous from Sparklehorse who died today.  That moved me way past irritable.

Sorry for the downer post.

Click on this link for my favorite Sparklehorse song.

Shade and Honey by Sparklehorse

Just in case you ever doubted how much fun this band is… Even if you’re not a fan you have to admit that they would be rilly fun to hang out with.  They are : )

I’ve been loving this song, Winter Tears by Mark O’Sullivan aka Goatboy for several months now.  It never had as much meaning to me as it does now, being knee-deep (pun intended) in the throes of Old Man Winter.  The song is from Mark’s EP Moon After Yule (available here.)  I should have the EP in my hands very soon and am excited to hear the whole thing.   You can read about him here also.  Very interesting read.

You Tube didn’t give me a share option for my blog for this video, if it’s not here, please take the time to C+P the link into your browser and give it a listen.  I promise you’ll like it.  Or maybe even love it as I do.

I noticed recently that the fact that I’m feeling very restless and unmotivated  could very well be the direct result of not having written much here in the past months.  Too much baggage in mah head.  I’ve totally lost sight of the reason I started blogging in the first place.   This therapeutic cleansing of the clutter clogging up my skull was the coolest cure I could come up with. (check out the alliteration, literary bitches!) And I’m still not exactly sure why I’ve quit slowed down to almost a trickle.  Yeah, I’m addicted to the instant gratification and the convenience (not the word I want) of places like Facebook.  It’s quick and easy to jot off a few words off the top of my head a few times a day as opposed to sitting in front of this BIG white box screaming at me to fill with whatever is swimming around in my brain. I come here at random intervals and am filled with a compassion much like sitting facing an old dear friend who says nothing but whose eyes are filled with a look of questioning.  I’m not sure what my friend needs or wants me to say and not sure what I’m willing to share.  Maybe not so much willing but wondering if what I have to say is what the friend wants to hear.  Is this what writer’s block feels like?  I’ve been blogging nine months short of 5 years and don’t recall ever being at a loss for blog fodder.  That really doesn’t sound like such a long time.  In reality, though, it has felt like such a big part of my life for so long that it seems much longer.

This could also be explained by the fact that my life feels to be at a standstill.  The winter thing… not just the season of the year but nearing the “winter” stage of my life.  Many things that have happened during the last year or so have forced me to slow down, made it necessary for me to let go of some “things” that kept me going full force.  We all age.  Normally it’s so gradual that we barely notice the changes.  Being that I’ve never been one to do things in a normal way, (and not always by choice) it so happens that my “gradual” was more of an instantaneous thing.  Not that it happened overnight, of course.  A bunch of events occurring and overlapping created a kind of chain reaction which resulted in a kind of head-on collison.  Much like a snowball rolling down a hill into a brick wall.  Working all that gawdawful overtime for so long caused me to get behind on so many things and that shit doesn’t just go away.  It accumulates and that glob becomes a mighty big monster.  And working long hours for a year without good sleep takes a toll on a body.  I’m not even going to address how it affects one’s state of mind.  It’s all connected.  Throw in a broken bone, a kidney stone and a drop in income (post OT) and see that glob monster?  It still doesn’t go away.  Then, gloriously, up pops a major holiday that you’re not entirely prepared for but welcome the festivities for the mental and emotional boost it provides.  Then the holiday is gone like the wind and what you’re left with is basically, a big mess,  a financial dent and an empty quiet house.  Which I could handle, as I do every year except that this year there’s an added anti-bonus.  A ton of snow and little or no sushine. (my other god.)   So if you’re reading this and “seeing” me devoid of most of what I need to get by, your picture is accurate.

Okay, so I’m experiencing a low point.  Maybe I just miss my kids.  Maybe I am just completely pissed at myself for lighting a cigarette after 6 days of cold turkey.  Maybe I simply need a new haircut.  Maybe I can’t force myself to take down my Christmas tree. (I know…)  Maybe I need medicated.  Maybe I wish that was me snowboarding in the Olympics.  Maybe I should replace my favorite jeans that are falling apart.  Maybe I should just shut up.

(I hope none of this shows on my face. I have to get my driver’s license photo taken in the morning.  Ha!)

(I kinda stole this from two of my favorite Valentines, Daily Piglet and David Letterman)

Anyway… Happy Friday and have a good weekend.