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My thoughts about things. |
| A place to put my thoughts about various stuff. |
| Normally, this time of year I am so cheerful that I even irritate myself a little. I love this holiday season and that hasn't changed, but the circumstances in life have in the past year and half. This time last year, I was struggling with coming to terms with my dad's death. He had drifted away due to Alzheimer's, so for years it had already felt like he was leaving us. So, his passing left one crack in my heart, but healed another. He isn't suffering from that disease any longer and for that I am eternally grateful. It's still hard to actually acknowledge inside that he's gone. It's far easier to say the words. To put on the mask and give and get hugs of sympathy. But deep inside, where the little kid part of me still lives, she's still wandering around, looking around corners and listening intently to see if he's still here somewhere. Those extra senses that I believe we all have, knows that he is here and there sometimes. He's watching over us and enjoying his respite and also moving on in his own way now. All of that at once. I also see him in our kids. The stubborn tilt of a chin. The corny joke that is told. I see a shadow of him leaning over the car my husband is working on, helping him focus and figure out the problem when he gets so frustrated. I hear him whispering to me to slow down, don't get so upset over the small stuff, and live each day as if it might be my last. This time last year, my mom was still here. She was trying to put on the best face she could to still be here with us all, but nothing was the same without her best friend and husband of 56 years. She spoke of missing things she had stopped doing since dad had gotten bad: driving, cooking, visiting people, just shopping at the store. It was the little kid in me that refused to see that she wasn't going to be here long. The signs were there. She had decided for herself a year before dad passed. She stopped taking her medicines and just let life take its course, without telling any of us. Stayed around long enough to put things in order. Their anniversary was two days before Christmas. She spent one anniversary and one Christmas without him and that was more than enough. The call that I thought would come months later came the day after Christmas. It was devastating and relieving all at the same time. Mom had been a shell of the woman she once was. Not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally. If all of us had a wound in our hearts from dad's passing, mom was missing half of hers. Ugh! I write all of this and it helps, but I also have the cynical part of me that is saying stop sounding like a broken record. I've had to mentally smack that part of myself a lot in the past year and a half. The title of this post is Optimism. That is where I want to end my entry. Life does indeed go on. No matter how painful or dreadful it may seem at the time. It marches right along and takes you with it. And the pain doesn't go away, but it does morph into something that you can live with, most of the time. The times that you can't, you take it off the shelf and lay it all out and let it wash over you again. Like the receding tide, it lessens but still ebbs over your heart. Salt water over a wound that will never completely heal. Where does the optimism come from then? From still being here. To hurt and heal and experience joy and pain over and over again. To live life. The day after Christmas is coming. Like it does every year. But very different from all of the others this year. I'll get to it - time will see to that. I'll get through it - family will see to that. And that spark of the old me, the one who had both parents still living on this Earth, she's still there. She's quieter and more humble, more serious, but still loving this season and the (hopefully) many more I have to come. 'Tis the season. Indeed, it is. |
It's Thanksgiving Eve (yes, that is how I think of it  ) and we are getting ready to start baking. We do all of our sweet items (pies, cookies, brownies, etc.) the day before, so they aren't competing for space in the oven the next day.For me, today is the beginning of the year ahead, not New Year's Eve. It sort of surprises me to realize, but Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, even as a kid. As a kid, I would have said it was Christmas, but that would have been because of the presents, of course. Not that we got that many. But the ones we did get were special and things that we had hoped for all year. What's also odd is that when I look back, the family get togethers on holidays were always fraught with dissent between siblings, cousins and the adults, too. There was the upset that we only went to my dad's side of the family on Thanksgiving and not my mom's. Dad's family was literally right around the corner and it was much smaller, so that's just how it was. We didn't have Thanksgiving at mom and dad's house until us kids were older and mom finally put her foot down and said she was having it there. My grandparents refused to come to our house on that day until years and years later and it was only one time. As a kid, I always looked forward to the day and dreaded it at the same time. I loved the food. It was stuff that we didn't have except for on that holiday. Though there was a good amount of it, we all loved it, so you had to be pretty quick to grab at least a bite of something because it would be gone pretty quick. Mom and my brother liked ham and disliked turkey, so it was a tradition to have both in our household. Dad and my brother-in-law loved oyster dressing, so we had a regular one and an oyster one. Definitely be sure to check before getting a scoop of it!  My parents inevitably would have an argument over something. Dad would end up out in the garage and mom would keep cooking, but the pots and spoons made a little more noise than was necessary. But then - always - they would come back together and make up. Things would be right in our part of the world before we all sat down to eat together. Mom played Christmas music while we cooked. Dad would grumble about it, but I think a part of him loved hearing it, too. I loved helping mom cook. It was a sleepy, sort of lazy time through part of the morning until all of sudden mom would declare it was time to start cooking. After that it was a bustling room of activity as she would guide me (and in earlier times) and my sister through prepping things. I remember it never made sense to me the order that we put things together. It sort of seemed like magic that mom knew when to get things ready and have everything together at just the right time. I do remember it was exhausting, but that good kind of fatigue that you feel for a job well done and get to reap the rewards as you sit down with your plate full of stuff that you helped make. Oh, we also had the parade on in the background! There would be moments we would stop to see certain balloons and the marching bands. That's what lasts in my memory, I guess. The magic of all of it. It was like a sort of spell went over the households and even though there were arguments, they got resolved and in the latter part of the day, everyone was smiles and good cheer. Sort of like an unspoken agreement to suspend dislikes among some of us and come together in a truce for a while to enjoy the fruits of our labors. We knew that tomorrow would bring the same old cruddy stuff back, but for those few hours, we were all happy together. I miss cooking with my mom... but I love cooking with our kids. I love telling stories and passing along tips about how to get things done just right in the kitchen. I love that they look forward to the parade that's playing in the background (on a laptop in the kitchen now) and they find new versions of the same old Christmas songs to play. We nibble on snacks, not wanting to fill up until the big meal is ready. And tell each other to stop opening the oven to check on the turkey so often, it needs time to cook. Somehow, just like mom did, I get everything to be ready at the same time. We enjoy that meal and the time spent together. We watch movies and play games as a family, go back for seconds, or get a piece of something for dessert. We put away leftovers and tuck the house in for bed like its a little kid that has had a busy day playing and needs the quiet time to recharge. Our Thanksgiving is not the holiday of my childhood. In many ways, it is better. And those older ones will live forever in my memories. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone that celebrates it! May you all have wonderful days filled with whatever it is that makes you smile.    |
| Recently, I have been reminded of how difficult it can be to strive for excellence in fields where your success is based in objectivity. 2+2=4 The War of 1812 occurred in the year 1812. The basketball goes through the hoop. The runner crosses the finish line. There are so many things in life that can be definitively called a success. It doesn't mean doing those things are easy, but it does tend to be easier to define success for them. The creative arts are not always as easily defined. Though there can be definitive categories applied to them, the judgement still comes from a place inside us that is entirely personal and therefore automatically biased. Is it a beautiful watercolor or a smudgy mismatch of random paint splatters? Did the dancer's moves touch a place inside your soul or were they just getting from one place to another on stage? Were those instruments creating a symphony that incited your emotions, or did it take all you had to suffer through the cacophony of sound? Did the book capture your attention and transport you to a time and place, or did you want to put it down two paragraphs in? For those of us that continue to share pieces of our hearts and souls with an outside audience, I applaud our efforts and admire our resolve. Remember that if you love what you are creating, then there are those out there who will also love it. And for those that don't, it's ok. Others' opinions of you and/or your work do not define you or your work. The work defines itself, as does the time and effort you put in to making it happen. Absorb the constructive criticism that is offered, let the pointless naysayers pass you by, and keep on creating! We believe in you. You believe in you. Happy writing, everyone! (And/or any other creative activity that you enjoy!) |
Here we are again at presidential election day!  There can be so much emotion that goes into these elections. For some, it can be hard not to let their feelings guide their behaviors and actions because the issues at hand touch on topics that are felt at a personal level. However, I firmly believe that - in the vast majority of situations - we control our emotions, our emotions do not control us. Certainly, there can be circumstances that warrant being overwhelmed, but in most cases, it is a choice of how to behave. In politics, sadly we have more individuals setting a bad example of behavior than good. The best advice that can be given, I believe, is to research the candidates from a reliable source. Examine their record of previous voting (if one exists), then consider all of that alongside your own beliefs. What matches? What doesn't? In the end, we just have to make the best informed decision that we can. Some have said that there is little point to voting for various reasons. I understand their ambivalence. For me, the act of voting is an important personal choice and represents more than just handing in a completed ballot. Not everyone in this world gets the opportunity to participate in a such a system. Many in the past gave their lives for our freedom to vote and many put their lives on the line today to make sure we still can. Taking the responsibility in hand to inform yourself of the issues and candidates and then following through by casting your ballot (regardless of what choices you make) illustrates that you care about your country and what happens to all of us here. This morning going to vote was a nice experience. It was a long wait, which I was thankful for - it means so many of us came out to vote! Though it made my back ache and my feet sore, it was still a pleasant morning spent chatting with family and community members. All of us eager to make our contribution. It was so good to see older folks out and about right alongside younger ones voting for the first time! I voted! I hope many of you out there did, too!  |
| Trick or treat Smell my feet Give me something Good to eat! If you don't I don't care I'll pull down Your underwear! I remember hearing that for the first time as a little kid and how scandalized I felt at the thought of someone messing with someone else's underwear! You just didn't DO that kinds of stuff. I always felt like a grown-up in a little kid's body. These days I sometimes feel like a little kid in my grown-up body.We decorated for Halloween on September 1st this year, just like last year. Before these two years though, we had always waited until October 1st. I have to admit that the Halloween stuff doesn't give me the same feeling as decorating early for Christmas, but it was nice to have it up a little longer. It will feel good to take it down and put up Thanksgiving things. I've always loved the beginning of what I consider the 'big' holidays at the end of the year. Fall is my favorite season mostly because of the impending holidays and more time with spent with family. This year, especially, that is hitting hard. It will be the first set of them without mom and dad. There are no calls to make or presents to get in the mail to them. No sending them the kids' school pictures in their Christmas card. No calling mom to ask advice (that's really not necessary) on how to cook some of the foods from my childhood. Just calling to hear her voice. Hear her tell me that she wished I was close enough to come get a hug. It's ok, all of this processing their passing. I keep telling myself that anyway. It's something that has to be done and not ignored. Trying to ignore it got me nowhere except snapping at people and then closeting myself away to cry a tissue box full of tears. Definitely not healthy and no way to honor their memories. So, here I am writing responses to Lilli's QOTD, doing reviews, and creating another blog entry. Go me. No, seriously, go me - keep putting one foot in front of the other and remember to enjoy each day to its fullest. I'm a part of their legacy and I'm not going to spend it immersed in sorrow and fear while the days pass me by. I've got loved ones to love and life to live. Hence, the silly sing-song poem that I remember hearing as a kid that started out this entry. Even as a little kid, I had this inherent knowledge of right and wrong and absolutely did not want to do the wrong thing. What would everyone think?  So, while other kids were belting out that little diddy and laughing until their bellies hurt, I kept my lips sealed. No sir, no way I was going to sing that and get in trouble.I waited until it was night and I was in my bed and then I whispered it to myself.  It was the tiniest delicious little morsel of safe rebellion that still made me blush even though no one could hear me. And there is the best example of how I mostly am, folks. Which is why I surprise the hell out of myself with some of the things I write.  Maybe that's why I can get it out on the page instead of in front of people.It's probably not surprising that I married a man who is not as staid as I am. Let's just say in his younger years, he mooned people and also went streaking. He has that balance that I never achieved. So very responsible, but with a wild side. Oh, how I love him.Our kids have more of the balance, leaning towards my quiet nature in public. They have wonderful senses of humor and a wit that comes directly from their dad. Well, the corny part of their humor is from me. I went back and read my blog post from 10-30-22. It was bittersweet remembering where we were at that time and how things were with everyone. I've come far enough to understand that looking back in the past like that... it's meant to be something to roll around in your mind for a short while and then, set it free again. You can't sit in the past and walk toward the future. So, today is about making more memories to store away for future me. Put the chili in the crockpot. Set out our costumes. Unbag the candy and clean out the cauldron! Halloween 2024 is going to be a spooky, sweet, good time!!    Happy Halloween, everyone! |
| It's been over a year since I logged on to writing.com. My dad passed in September 2023 and the next day I withdrew from a lot of things to concentrate on my family and process the grief. My mom put their affairs in order and celebrated one last Christmas with us. She passed the next day. They were married for 55 years. I can count on one hand the number of nights they spent apart in all that time. They were perfectly imperfect. They shared joy and laughter, tears and fights. The last few years the dad we knew and husband she knew slipped away, taken by Alzheimer's. We lost him. He lost himself. She stayed with him until his last breath. After he passed, mom talked of things she might do in the future. And always there was a hollow ring to her voice. Improvements were made to their house in anticipation of her return. She only stayed one night there without him. Her health declined and she spent the rest of her time in facilities or the hospital. She received a pacemaker because her heartbeat was so low she could have passed without the medication they gave her. After it was in, she told me that she signed a paper saying after her death her pacemaker could be used for veterinary purposes. It would be donated and save a beloved pet who needed one. The morning she passed she was supposed to have a procedure that would look for what was still wrong with her heart. When I got the call, I already knew. It was broken in a way that medicine could not fix. The love of her life was waiting for her. After spending years saying goodbye to him, she was ready to be by his side again. They loved to dance. As a kid and later as an adult, I would admire how naturally they fit together. Dad always held her right hand in his left one, against his cheek, as he leaned close and held her tight. Just as she was by his bedside at that moment, I know dad was there at hers. Holding out his hand, asking her to dance. And that is how I remember them. The sharp pain has dulled to an aching throb. One that still makes my breath catch when I think of calling to tell them something and realize I can't. And the dull ache that means I am getting accustomed to their absence still makes me angry at times. I know that they would want all of us to continue on and enjoy each and every moment we can. That they are watching over us and waiting for us and hopefully it is a long time before that joyful moment when we meet again. So, we continue. We tell stories and laugh and cry. I see the turning of the seasons and think of dad mentioning the first frost of winter or how the ground was getting thawed enough to get back in the fields. I see school buses and think of the years that he drove one. Remember him teaching me to drive and walking me down the aisle. I hear his laughter echo in my mind and see him smiling, feel him hug me tight. I pass down knowledge and old sayings from my mom that she passed down to me from her mom. I cook her recipes with our kids. I watch the shows she liked to watch. I buy a book of stamps and think of her behind the counter in her post office when I would stop by with the kids. How her smile would shine when she saw us in line and how proud she was of her job. How it was hard for her to share emotion through words, but she never missed getting or giving a hug. And she always, always said I love you. I love and miss my mom and dad. My world - the whole world - is less bright because they are gone. But the world is so much better for having had them in it. |
| "Are you ok?" Those three words were spoken to me this morning while I was in the grocery store. An employee who was working in the produce section near me asked me that question. I hadn't looked towards her or indicated that I was in need of help. I didn't feel as though I was giving off any vibes of feeling bad. It was just a normal morning for me, stopping by the store after a workout. It struck me though. This out-of-the-blue question from a stranger. My first thought was, do I look like I'm not ok? What had I been thinking of? It made me do a quick self-check, I guess. I assured her that I was ok. She smiled and then asked if I was looking for something. I mentioned a vegetable that wasn't in stock, and she offered to go to the back to see if there were any. I told her thank you, but no. It was this incredibly short exchange between two strangers, but it was such a nice thing to have happen. A simple kindness reminding me that there are people out there who care, just because they are good people. So, to the ones reading this, from me to you - are you ok? |
| Vinegar has become my enemy. In the past, it was a love-love relationship. Give me pickles (especially homemade), salad dressing, or anything with mustard, mayonnaise, etc. I’ve always loved that tart bite on the tongue or even the smell of it. Distilled white, apple cider, white wine, rice or most recently balsamic – all of them were beloved. Until the last so many years. I started having trouble with swelling. Talking to my doctor, they steered me towards possible causes. Salt was one of them, but I had long since nearly eliminated it from my diet. Other allergens. I went to an allergist and was told I am only allergic to the most common of allergens, like dust and pollen, etc. When I spoke to the allergist, they informed me that a person cannot be allergic to vinegar. They said that the reactions I am experiencing were from acid reflux and possibly other coincidental occurrences that happened alongside eating something with vinegar. Here’s the thing. I can document that these side effects happen only when I eat something with vinegar and it is isolated events. They also greatly reduce and/or subside when I take an antihistamine. What am I getting to, then? That it is frustrating to go to a doctor and talk to them about something that is affecting you and have them tell you absolutely it just can’t be the case. I would argue that perhaps it could be that the something that is affecting me just hasn’t been widely documented and/or explored as a possible problem yet. At one point in time no one understood or believed that germs were a real thing. Could I be wrong? Absolutely. Could the doctors be wrong? Absolutely. I just know that it is only one of us that is readily available to admit to that possibility. So, here I am. Slogging through the realization that I just deal with this odd condition that seems to affect just me, or a very small percentage of the population at least. I went through my denial period. Perhaps, if I just listened to the doctors and ignored the consequences of eating something with vinegar, then those aggravating side effects would disappear. Not surprisingly, they didn’t. Weeks of misery and antihistamines later, I decided to quit vinegar ‘cold turkey’. Do you know how many things have vinegar in them?? Pretty much any condiment, salad dressing, or liquid seasoning known to mankind.   I completely realize there are more pressing issues for me, and society as a whole, to consider. On the scale of things to be distressed over, not being able to consume vinegar is pretty far down on the list. But *&#*(@$#*!!!!!  My hissy fit has long since been thrown. I have beaten my fists against the imaginary walls of denial, pig-headedness, and finally acceptance. I traversed the path of the love-hate relationship with vinegar.Now, I find myself walking the path of hate-hate with it. I hate that I still love and miss it. It hates me and makes me miserable by consistently reminding me of how much I miss it and trying to entice me into consuming it again… which I do… very rarely and with much regret. And Benedryl. The majority of the time, I focus on how much better I feel without it in my life. The swelling is nearly non-existent when I am completely free of it. I feel better overall with less sinus congestion, better blood sugars, and more energy. It is certainly strange to think that a lot of my overall suffering could be linked back to that one consumable. Something that I happened to see a correlation between and, even after doctors assured me it couldn’t possibly be the cause, took it upon myself to do elimination trials and found it helped my health to be away from it. So, while I admire vinegar from afar and have fond memories of potato salad, deviled eggs, and pickles, I find that my life is more enjoyable when I am not constantly fighting swelling and congestion. In the end, it is a good trade-off. Even if it is still one that I harbor ill will towards. Sometimes, we cannot have our vinegar and eat it, too. Unless we wish to be miserable and sleepy. And 99.9% of the time I choose not to be. |
| Moving. For some the possibility of moving from one home to another is not even an option to consider. It can be financially, emotionally and physically taxing. Some may have the means, but not the need or desire to do so. There are those (like much of my family) that will be born and die in the same area. They have deep roots and moving even a short distance is an unpleasant idea, let alone to another state. There are those that may wish fervently to move, but obstacles prevent them from doing so. Devotion to family (I admire those that stay near to younger or older generations to help with their care) can be a strong pull that overrides the desire to leave an area. Financial means can be a deciding factor, though I can personally say that if you are motivated enough, they can be overcome - where there's a will, there's a way. Physical restrictions can limit someone's ability to perform the move or where they can settle. Some climates aren't friendly to certain existing ailments. Then, there are those modern nomads that never really settle for long and are constantly on the move. It could be due to job requirements or a fierce desire to see and be a part of as much of the world as they can experience. These individuals can be outgoing or solitary. Some make fast friends and leave behind lasting impressions in a short amount of time that make those around them feel like they had known them forever. Others slip in quietly and enjoy their stay, then are gone with the wind, leaving only the vague impression that they were ever even there. Where do I fit in here? Some of me exists in all three categories. I grew up in a small town in the house where my dad was born. The town was in the triple digits when I was really little and didn't even rate a stop light. I loved it. Our home was in the country, but just a few minutes from town. It was cozy, but convenient. And in my little girl's heart, I would have never even for a minute thought of leaving it. Then, I met the man who would be the love of my life, my best friend, my husband. He is the opposite of me in so many ways. It can cause clashes. It often works to our benefit, as we balance one another. He moved as a kid. A lot. Rarely was it out of necessity. It was just something his family chose to do, most of the time. There were times he enjoyed going to a new area. There were times he hated everything about having to leave a place. What I learned about his childhood was that he understood the concept that sometimes you had to sacrifice even the place you live, if you want to have the chance for better circumstances. Our life together has been a blend of both. Early on, we moved out of necessity. Then, we stayed in one place for nearly a decade, partly because I held us there. The most recent years have been spent for medium stretches of time in areas and then heading to a new one. ***Interrupted by circumstances and sickness. Completed on 6-30-23*** Our most recent move just happened, and it was the most significant one since we were first married. It was significant because of the distance, the job he accepted which was the cause for the move, and the fact that our kids are old enough now to chime in on what they think of making such a change. In the end, we decided to take that leap of faith again and... now, here we are. It wasn't easy, or simple, or cheap. We decided to sell most of our furniture to lighten the load and bring the cost of moving items down. Cherished items and necessities were the only things trucked across the country. What didn't sell was donated. So much the better that someone else can use it than put it in some landfill. Complications arose, even the day before the movers were set to load us up. The proverbial poo hit the fan and we had to scramble to make a new plan, which actually worked out so much better in the long run. One of our vehicles broke down. If it had been used during the move, those in it very well might not have lived to make it to the new home. Things happen for a reason. The cost I speak of is more than monetary. This move has taken a mental, physical and emotional toll on all of us unlike any of the other ones... but we are doing well. We have cheered one another up and on as times were tough. At different times, we each have gotten grouchy and snapped at one another. We have shared tears and fears and hopes and dreams. We have once again pulled together as a family and made this change happen. Now, we settle into this new 'normal' and set our feet upon the paths here that await us. |
| When my life gets so hectic and I feel overwhelmed, I like to go out to the History Channel and look at the 'This Day in History' stories. Sometimes they help me put things into perspective. Of course, it's all based upon how I interpret the stories and relate them to my life, but isn't that how we process pretty much everything? On May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helens violently erupted. The eruption killed 57 people and devastated 210 square miles around it. Thousands of animals and millions of fish were killed. The area was forever changed. But this devastation did not happen without warning. The first tremors began on March 20th of that same year. Local officials who monitored the volcano immediately began closely watching the situation and making plans. After a minor eruption on March 27th and the appearance of a mile-wide bulge on the side of the mountain that was moving upward at a rate of 6 feet per day, they began immediate evacuations of the area. Even with the circumstances staring them in the face, some people chose to stay. Without judgement of the unknown circumstances, I have to wonder what reasoning they had to make that decision. For me there isn't any material possession that would keep me bound to one place. There are definitely people for whom I would die, but not any parcel of land. That's just my own personal viewpoint. Our family is facing stress at the moment. It can be termed both good and bad stress all mixed together. The situation is not one that will be resolved for at least a few months, it affects all of us, and though we chose to undertake it, the situation nevertheless is still pressing upon us and having its adverse effects. We are all dealing with it as we can individually, as well as together. I have two thoughts with the eruption of Mount St. Helens. One, it wasn't something anyone was able to choose to happen or not happen. One day everything was going along as it always had been, and the next the first beginnings of a historical event were taking shape. You can't negotiate with nature. Two, the people that did choose to live there knew the possible consequences of their choice. It's likely that many lived their entire life there without being present for any devastation. The last active period prior to 1980 had been between 1837 and 1851. However, living in the shadow of an active volcano precludes any reassurance that nothing will ever happen to destroy your home. Our situation has not been imposed upon us. Though once we made the decision, it seems to have taken on a life of its own and it does feel like it is this great organism that is steamrolling its way through our lives. We remind ourselves, and one another, that we chose this path, and we will succeed traversing it together. Change can be frightening, even when it is a positive change. Life isn't without risk and sometimes it is those risks taken that return the best of rewards. Knowing that there will be change thrust upon me by time and nature that I have no say in one way or another, makes me appreciate those decisions that I do have the ability to make myself. Even if it brings necessary stress to affect the change, it is worth the effort to strive for a better situation in the future. No one said the act of growth would be painless. So, I will endure the parts that are unpleasant and cherish those that are joyful. All of them will forge new memories and those are priceless. |
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