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 My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| We are living in such a sick, distorted world. It's always had the potential for evil, but it seems it is on the surface more now. There is no pretense of civility. We can disagree with each other, even not like each other, without being vile, profane, or violent. But society as a whole seems to have lost that ability. Some groups seem to have forgotten that we are all God's children. Each of us has the right to believe as we choose without criticism or condescension from others. We can live as we choose as long as we do not violate the rights of others. Blocking a highway that is not closed by highway department for repair, and therefore has detours, is a violation of our rights to use tax paid highways. Breaking windows or burning cars is a violation of others rights as well as violation of the laws. People who do those things need to be jailed and prosecuted, no excuses. We need an orderly society. Overturning civilization as we know it is not the way to solve problems or disagreements. People who are screaming profanities in public and making exhibitions are hurting themselves. The working American will retaliate. The tide will turn against those who mock our laws. Frightening innocent citizens, who might even have the same sentiments, will not help your cause. No matter how strongly you feel, you must remember that everyone has a right to an opinion, and there is a non-violent way to accomplish your purpose and make yourself heard. Peaceful protesters are taken more seriously. And all these high school kids don't even know the issues, the people involved, or why they are protesting. For them, it's a social event. They should be taking that time to learn what's going on and finding peaceful, legal resolutions where there are legitimate concerns. There's too much hysteria and little knowledge. Making our citizens fearful of fellow citizens is not clear thinking and accomplishes nothing. |
| All these ads and TV shows are killing me. Why do people think that it is necessary to give gifts on Valentine's to demonstrate love and or affection? Despite the wonderful tale of the man Valentine who later became a saint in the Catholic Church (you have to be a martyr to be sainted), the Day that commemorates him is an overblown commercial day. Now granted, if my boyfriend or spouse was filthy rich, I would expect some tokens that needed to be insured. Everyday people, however, can get by cheaper or free. A nice dinner, flowers, a handmade gift, or something like that would do. The couple could work out their routine, whether they wanted the exact same thing every year, or wanted variety, or agreed to stay within a low spending level. In fact, they could agree to give each other a dozen roses or red carnations and go to a senior community or homeless shelter and hand them out one by one to people they meet. A hospital waiting room would work as well. They could express their love to each other by sharing the joy with others. I just witnessed a commercial for footie pajamas in pink. Ew. No thank you. It's too cute, too impractical and stupid. I like pajamas, mind you. Mine are Joe Boxers from K-Mart. They're flannel, they're loose, they're warm, they're comfy. But don't give me any as a Valentine present. I don't want stuffed animals, coloring books, gadgets, or knick knacks (dust collectors). I personally have enough cologne, but many women might appreciate that as a Valentine gift. Candy is acceptable, but women like me have a temptation problem with candy. Don't give it to me, and I won't have a chocolate coma. I want it, but I don't need it. The same with Girl Scout cookies. I want them, but I can't buy them. A hand drawn card from one of the children means more. I guess that's what it really boils down to. Is the gift a sincere expression of love and respect. Or is it just a token? Even a diamond, if given by a false lover, can be meaningless. A small potted plant from someone who treats you well every day means a whole lot more. |
| Today I was in the furnace room which is also storage. I got rid of some things, old parts to refrigerators, and so forth, while my Dad wasn't looking. But I found a shoe box inside another box, and I was shocked by what was in it. Whether I put it together years ago, or my mother collected them, I don't know. There were report cards from junior high, awards from church which had meaning for me, postcards, and so forth. I took a trip down Memory Lane. There was a faintly typed list on onion skin of names and addresses. It took a few reads for me to realize they were girls from my freshman dormitory. I don't remember making or receiving the list. (A sign of age.) There was a gross thing in a box under a folded sheet of paer. The sheet had the names of "donors" and they were high school chums. The gross thing was a mass of hair in different colors. Eww. One of the names is that of a guy who is a prominent doctor in town. There were some other things from college so I probably collected them with Mom's help. Who knows how the bow the box ended up there, neglected, unmarked. I wouldn't part with these things for any reason. That trip down the Lane almost left me in tears. Where have the decades gone? When I die, someone no doubt will throw these things away. They mean nothing to anyone. They have no historical or monetary value. But at the time they were important to me, to my mother. A lifetime has gone by and those tokens don't matter to anyone, except me in these rare moments. This is what our lives come to, a box of yellowed papers and forgotten trinkets. |
| What a liberating thing! I threw away a whole folder of resumes today. With computer software it's easy enough to recreate one if necessary. If I can't remember everything, I shouldn't be working. I can't imagine needing one for anything else. I am not ever job hunting again if I can help it. I'll wait out my time in this lowly position with low wages. Today I sorted through some things I had stored on a shelf. it was a small space, so I didn't realize how much I had jammed in there. Surprise, not only a folder of resumes from years ago, not the last batch I used, but the remainder of two novels I started before I moved here that I thought were gone forever. Of course, it's not all there, but enough to get me started again. One item was a notebook from 30 years ago. I read the poems. It was in amazingly good shape. I had to read a few to figure out where I was working at the time. They weren't very good, but I might post a few for laughs in my poetry folder. It amazed me that I've been scribbling that long, but with so little to show for it. Anyway, I threw away two bags of trash (including a pair of shoes). It was a small space, so the room doesn't look any different, but it felt freeing to rid of some clutter. Old Internet jokes and recipes I'll never use are out on the curb now. I even picked out a diet book and the Praxis teaching license study guide to donate to Purple Heart sales. Feels good. |
| Oh, my domestic side came out today. I made old-fashioned bread pudding. It was delicious, but way too sweet. I had two servings before dinner! The old weathered cookbook needs some updating. If I make it again, I'll cut back on the raisins. They plump up and make their own sweet liqueur. I'd reduce the brown sugar. With the raisins, the sugar is just too much. It didn't use as much bread as I thought either, so it didn't get rid of all my bread. When I vacuumed, I moved all the furniture to sweep under it. (I usually do that after the children leave to retrieve all the crayons and small toys.) I cleaned up the refrigerator, which I just did yesterday, but I want to keep it clean. It's a pretty time-consuming process. I sorted through the cosmetics on my dresser top and parted with some of them. I did laundry this morning. I usually have trouble doing all that in one day. I even did my e-mail and cleaned up the files and tried to order concert tickets. By the time I decided I could not get specific seating for an elderly person on-line, the box office was closed and I couldn't do it by phone. After cleaning the kitchen after dinner, I watched jeopardy, only to fall asleep after the last commercial and miss the winner. I managed to study and come back to the computer. Bottom line, I think I could like more days off with no appointments. I love checking things off my mental to do list. |
| My dad is getting older, but he remains in general good health. However, his vision is troubling and his hearing is almost gone. I hate for him to drive. So I took him shopping today. We went to Sam's Club to get a few bulk items. He loves to shop, so he has to look at everything. While he took forever to look at some things I browsed the expensive jewelry and daydreamed, like I would ever have a place to wear a $999 necklace! We ambled back to the car and drove to the fabric store that carried Vanna White yarn. That was for me. He sat in the car while I found what I wanted immediately. I'm planning to teach my 8 year old great niece to crochet, since she told me that was what she wanted. I got her a hook and the yarn and have a tote bag for her. When I got back in the car, I started talking to my dad about waiting in line so long while the only cashier waited on all those customers. As I backed out of my spot with the radio playing, I realized he was snoring and hadn't heard a word I said. He woke up when I pulled to the far side of the shopping center. I asked if he wanted to stop at Kroger, since he had mentioned it earlier. Yes, he wanted bananas. He loves to shop for groceries, so I knew this would be a long time. We parked near the front of the store. He walked in under the big sign Kroger. Halfway down the first aisle after produce, he saw a stand in the aisle that said Kroger, so he pointed to it. I nodded and we kept going. Since he's been in the grocery business most of his life, I thought he was just noticing the display stand. At the far side, after he reviewed all the meat counters, he saw the ice cream case, and said, "They even have Kroger ice cream." Suddenly, it dawned on me that he didn't know where he was. "You're not at Costco. This is Kroger's." He was totally surprised. He told me that he had noticed a man with a cart and thought to himself that he used to work at Kroger. I had noticed him staring at the guy who came out of the double doors, but again I thought it was his industry curiosity. I had wanted to go to Costco, but I realized it was getting late. He probably needed to go home. So I asked, and, yes, he wanted to go home. Nearer to home, we stopped at the drug store, where I picked up my routine prescriptions and some cold medicine and cough drops. He was asleep again, but woke up on our street. He still has physical strength. He could lift the detergent that I could not. I handled the eggs, because he tends to grip the carton too tightly and break a few eggs. He hobbled into the house and tried to do as much as he could. I help but I can't do it all. That would make him feel helpless. He tries to warm up dinner for me when I work late. He has to feel like he's still in control. I can deal with his feebleness and his extended naps. I'll drive him where he needs to go. But it worries me about the confusion. I have to yell to make him hear my soft voice. It takes adjustment on both sides. He has to deal with his loss of self-reliance and dignity. He's always been a strong man who took care of others. His mother, sister, in-laws, wife, and children have leaned on him. Now it's time for him to lean on me, my brothers, and the grandchildren. |
| I am slowly adjusting to the idea of not working. My hours are cut back, which is normal for January in my company. I go to work each day, but as soon as I pull into the parking lot, I tell myself, I don't want to be here. Once, not long ago, I wanted to work over, when I was paid by the hour, to get more time in, more pay. When I was on salary, I worked over even more just to get the job done, even though it was never appreciated or recognized. Not any more. I start counting down the minutes until I can leave at the end of my shift. There was a time when I would look at the stay at home mothers and wonder how they could stand it. Oh, I understood the newborn stage and early toddler time, but I couldn't imagine babysitting and house cleaning all the time. I knew women who bragged about watching soap operas and getting their nails done before the kids got out of school. I couldn't understand how they did not want to get out of the house and be productive in the business world. Now I knew a few who volunteered a lot at the schools or at church or who gardened quite a bit. But I knew more who just took it easy, some without children. One lady told me she didn't have to work because she was a girl. Six months later she was getting a divorce and she was going to come out pretty well financially. Me, I wanted to work and thought everyone else should want to work, too. I told myself I would never retire unless I was rich and could travel instead. Well, now retirement is looking pretty good. I don't mind not working. It's no longer fulfilling. I'm not rich. I can't afford to travel. But I can pay my bills, and I have a roof over my head. I don't crave the latest gadgets. I don't want to take any more classes or plan an alternative career. It's like I have to retrain my thought patterns. Or the thought patterns have shifted without me or despite me. I don't want to advance in my career, write a better resume. I don't care so much about what other people think. It's okay to have little ambition, or a different kind of ambition. Bottom line: this is the year I will retire from the working world. I may do some things on my own, but I will stop reporting in to other people or punching a clock. I'm just working my way up to it. I don't want to be like the friend who retired at age 62, still in good health, and drawing a really nice pay check, only to say, "Now I wait to die." I'm not going to be that caught up in my work, so it won't be a shock in my life style. |
| Well, the month is almost over and I'm finally getting into the New Year. The last of the Christmas things went into the attic just an hour ago! I made some headway this week on last week's goals! I am making progress. I suppose it helps that I'm breathing better than the first week of January. My cold is almost gone. I'm on my second round of antibiotics to clear my throat and stop the cough. I thought I was getting better, but my eyes got weepy during the night and the cough kept me awake again. This crud won't leave, yet I still feel so much better than I did for a few weeks during and after the holidays. I can't sing, and sometimes can't talk, but I can run a vacuum and change beds again. Whew. Being ill kills your enthusiasm and resolve. However, once you regain control somewhat, you can get back on the right path. I've paid my bills, got some paperwork done, and did some dusting. (I hate housework, but it won't go away.) I'm trying to plan a mini-vacation on which I can take my dad, who can't sit in the car all day, and can't walk a lot, but wants variety, too. It is a new year and time both of us did something different. Life is too short to stay home and work all the time. I would tell young people, "Get out and see the world now, before you have too many responsibilities." When you're older, you have obligations to others, you may have health problems, or you may have unforeseen burdens. If you wait to travel or have fun, it might not be possible. Some people do manage after 50 to do what they want, to benefit from their labor. But there is no guarantee that it will work that way. I am ready to make this a brand new year. I'll redecorate if I can. I'll do whatever it takes to shake things up. I'll write and I'll read and I'll travel as far as I can. It's going to be different one way or another! b |
| We finally have a new calendar on the kitchen wall. Usually we have lots of freebees, but we had to buy one this year. On this calendar, we primarily mark my dad's doctor appointments, which I also have on Google, his grandchildren's birthdays and other significant days to him. I have to keep my things, with his, on my own calendar. The Christmas tree is down. but the boxes are still in the family room. This room where I'm typing is full of Christmas boxes, too. They have to go into the attic. Only the outside lights are stored away until next year. We're just too sick still to climb into the attic toting heavy boxes. And it's cold up there. I still have Christmas cookies and fudge in the refrigerator. We can't use all that sugar, and I didn't go back to work after Christmas to take them. The fudge might still be okay to my co-workers, but I'm not so sure about the cookies. I want a vacation. I have to finish the holiday storage, go to the dentist and do my medical things, and dad's medical things. But I want a trip! I have to figure something that doesn't involve him flying, riding for more than six hours a day, or walking a great deal. So he is not really into sightseeing any more. He may have to scrap his dignity and settle for a wheel chair for day trips. I can't go anywhere without him. Maybe if I can find some place nice and scenic, he can endure a long ride, then just relax in the same place for a few days. Something lazy.I'm ready to start packing. I'm ready and willing to black off a week on that calendar. |
| I'm making progress. Two weeks of illness, but I can almost breathe normally. My eyes are clear and don't hurt. I still can't talk and have an "injured" throat. I cough a little less, but still too much, which keeps my throat and esophagus hurting and my voice barely audible. I'm finally able to concentrate enough to read. I can sweep the floor without major coughing spells. We measure progress in these little ways. My boss has been very understanding and gave me some extra time off to recover my lung strength. My father is perking up a little. Chicken noodle soup really does seem to help. 'm starting to think about organizing (isn't that the usual January activity?) and setting some new goals, not resolutions. I just sort of missed all that holiday stuff. When I know I'm germ free, I may try some new recipes. |
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