Thoughts for the Season....

Ok, Saturday! A week ago today I had taken a run and was sitting in the sun. Today proved another glorious Autumn day...I ran...and then put up Xmas decorations and cleaned in preparation for the Thanksgiving Extravaganza! All in all a good day.

While I was working, I was listening to Xmas music. Much of the holiday tradition has been jaded for me, due to the unrealistic expectations or unrequited enthusiasm of my mother, who has VERY demanding and exact specifications for an enjoyable and successful season. But, Xmas music and Xmas lights hold a magic for me that I hope to always appreciate! I get chocked up just thinking about "The Little Drummer Boy", and Jimmy Buffet's, "Ho, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum" never fails to induce a dance! And, Xmas lights! Classy, tacky, overdone or subtle...I think it should be a law that Xmas lights must be displayed through February!

But, listening to the music, I was struck by the message. Savior. We do all need a savior. Someone who loves us beyond reason, who will sacrifice for our well being, who would die for us. Or maybe just someone in the right place, at the right time with the right word. Or, maybe someone we love beyond reason, who we would sacrifice for and even give our life? I'm uncertain in my beliefs. I cannot discount "God". There have been too many miraculous incidents in my own life to rule out divine intervention...but, that's as far as it goes. Do we need to require our Savoir to be God incarnate...or can our Savior be a husband, a parent, a friend...can I have more than one? Because I do. And, do they have to know it? Or can it be my secret?

Well, thoughts that deep require reflection...

I've decided how to celebrate the holidays when it's up to me! I'm going to have an open house on Thanksgiving. There will be a buffet...with Hawaiian pizza and turkey and cranberry salad on little rolls, and fruit and cheese. Anyone can drop by anytime and stay as long as they want...but, we're going to talk and eat and watch TV or play games or not...I might even make some of those pop n' fresh cinnamon rolls and tell people they can come for breakfast! And, then, for Christmas through New Year's, Tall One and I are going to a Caribbean Island! We'll have enough room for family and friends...we'll walk along the beach, sit in the sun, wander through town, and gather our resources for the coming year!

That's what we're going to do....

Less Than Drivel...

Ok, it's evening on Thursday night...I've promised myself regular postings...but, mostly I'm tired! I'm looking forward to my SuperPokePets drama tomorrow night...it's geekishly lame...but, there you have me! I'm alone...TallOne has taken a walk to the Pub. I've had a couple of glasses of wine...and will probably have dessert....

That's about all I can manage this evening...but, tomorrow is another day....

The Daily Drivel

Well, I completely missed yesterday...not the entire day, just the posting part. I thought of it, while eating my breakfast, and then I got dressed and then....well, I did write (type...word process) a letter to PhD and Masters, and got a box ready to send to them for their birthdays...so that was productive! That may have been the productivity high point of the weekend....

The weather was beautiful and I did manage a couple of walks! I spent time online, playing with my SuperPokePet...which is a subject for an entire stand alone blog and may be a blockbuster, run-away best seller when I write my novel and manage to have it published and promoted (hopefully, not by myself).

So, now it's Monday. You would think that since I've never worked a normal 40 hour week (well, not in thirty five years anyway!) - my workweeks consist of all manner of hours and combinations of days required by various and sundry commitments and responsibilities - that weekends would have lost their uniqueness a long time ago. But, weekends must be hardwired somewhere into the Western social psyche. Everything's open seven days a week, most jobs require a weekend here or there...certainly, Sunday as a day of rest has become an archaic social antiquity....and, yet...it's still a time that I can feel less guilty if I'm less productive. I will have a drink in the afternoon (late morning) on a weekend...I will play on my computer...I will watch something on TV in the morning that's not news!

Now that my oldest grandchild is in first grade, he's around on the weekends, as opposed to only visible during the week for a couple of hours after the bus drops him off down the road. Tall One traditionally golfs on a Saturday morning, and on Sundays has declared "golf and football" will be played on the TV all afternoon, creating angst amongst the natives. Tall One also cooks on Sunday evenings, trying in vain to revive the "family meal"...but, his dinners are good, even if his clean-up leaves something to be desired. Daughter and I often take a walk together on a Sunday afternoon...stopping at the Pub for a drink and to pump dollars in to the video games machine at the bar.

I just got back from my increasingly less frequent run...3 miles! That's about maximum without building in "walk" breaks...the joints just aren't cooperating...I'll be heading over to Nana's shortly...so I'll leave off now...till the next time...

The Daily Experiment

Ahhhhh...I'm determined to start posting again...I decided this on my walk this morning.The walk that I took after sleeping 11 hours and having a cup of coffee with non-fat Half and Half (say it like Bernie Mac in "Bad Santa"), and a cup of grapes and an orange. Now, I'm back from my walk (about an hour) and living the life. It's November, 11 months from my last post (I've thought about posts, and even started a few, but I'm nothing if not inconsistent!), I'm sitting out on the deck, in the sun with an egg sandwich and Irish coffee. The Irish coffee contains coffee, Bailey's and Jameson...if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna do it right, the egg sandwich is nondescript.

Anyway, 34 years ago (right after I was married), after an adolescence of undetermined, undiagnosed health issues (nagging, annoying, inconvenient, but not life threatening), I went for my third round of allergy testing (my first was as a child for chronic ear infections, the second as a teenager for angst). No reaction to the first series of skin testing....no reaction to the second series, done at the same time even though one usually has to schedule a second visit, because, seriously, I am not having any reactions!!! After this, the doctor, shaking his head because he was so convinced he would see some breakthrough revelation, and I'm obviously NOT cooperating, suggests he do an intradermal test, injecting a small amount of some sort of substance (alien DNA?) under the skin of my forearm...the purpose of which, is to find out if I have an autoimmune reaction, thus, in fact, proving that I am allergic to myself! I walked around for a week with a softball sized hive on my arm....

I'm thinking this was the precursor to the rash of autoimmune diseases that are diagnosed today...some I believe legitimate, others I relegate to to realm of Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. I really do believe (as in my case) that there is a basis for feeling crappy a lot of the time....but, no excuses. I think, often, that American society makes it difficult, if not impossible, to live life according to one's abilities...life is rough if you're not physically gifted. A hundred years ago, I probably would have self-destructed about 10 years ago....but, I don't have to clear the land, build my home from the timber, grow all my own food, bear my children in the back bedroom, fight off Indians, and/or work in a sweat shop...I have access to penicillin and nourishing food, clean sheets, and satellite TV. We all operate under differing, diverse limitations. I'm not seeking a diagnosis or miracle pill...just permission, my own, to live within my capabilities. This is kind of hard.

I want to do it all. Twice. Everyday.

So, - not particularly pertaining to anything I've just written - what I'm going to try and do is post a bit everyday. Part diary/journal to document the physical, mental and if necessary the emotional barometer of my daily life, or maybe just whatever nonsense comes to mind. I'll try to make it interesting...otherwise, I'll get bored and stop!

The Beginning of "The Purge"...

Ok...then...it's been a bit since the last posting...I've been tired...I'm getting old.

Costa Rica was fun, really FUN! We arrived home to Thanksgiving preparations and "catch up".

My mother is 80. 80 years old...that's..."gettin' up there". I have never doubted that my mother loves me. She does. She just has an extremely obsessive way of showing it.

Mom started life...80 years ago...as an illegitimate child. 80 years ago, that (illegitimacy) was her fault, and if not her fault, her stigma. Her mother married in desperation, five years after my mother's birth. When Mom had bonded with her Aunt and established a place in that household, Mom was "kidnapped" from that familiar home to a creepy stepfather and a neglectful narcissist of a mother. So, it's understandable that my mother "has issues".

Mom married my Dad, a man 19 years her senior. Yes, for all the reasons you might suspect. He WAS a father figure, a provider, a protector. Unfortunately, he died at 61, leaving a 42 year old widow with a 16 year old daughter (me) and a 13 year old son, and all the "old" issues firmly intact....

Mom loves me for all the reasons you see touted out on the "Dr. Phil" shows about 16 year old teenage mothers. They just want so desperately for something to love them, only them, only them, only them. They see that baby as validation. They will correct all the wrongs inflicted on them....I am her victim...

My mother was almost 26 when I was born...she had been married to my father for seven years. But, I think she still carried with her the 16 year old, unwed mother, mindset. Dad was a means to an end. My mother's whole world was (is) her children.

This is not healthy....

And, now I am her caregiver...

Mom is my "difficult person".

A Good Story?

This doesn't happen to me very often...because, I consciously turn my thoughts in other directions. I strictly adhere to my commitment "to want to do everything I have to do". I do not normally dread anything or anyone. Today, I have a "dread".....that uncomfortable fearful expectation of not performing satisfactorily a simple task that I've taken EVERY precaution I can to properly complete. I have done my best to gather the best information from every available source...and yet, there are still some unknown factors involved. This task is for my mother...and I seriously would rather die than fuck this up.

Ok, that's an extreme overstatement...but, I'm in a bit of crisis...

Mom is on a VERY fixed, low income. Tall One and I help out wherever and whenever we can. Mom lives in a condo that we own, she pays us a monthly rent, plus her utilities. WE operate in the red (in the VERY red). My brothers help out financially, every single time I ask them for help, with gifts and medical equipment. I have been "supplementing" her grocery situation for years. I found an agency to modify her bathroom and install a vertical life, since she can't live independently otherwise. I have researched and helped her apply for medical assistance, energy assistance, rent rebates, and now the "Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program", formerly known as Food Stamps.

Mom deludes prides herself on her self-sufficiency and financial acumen.

I have tried repeatedly to contact the Public Assistance (Welfare) Office to ask a couple of simple, common sense type questions...I have left messages. No one has returned my calls. Mom can't shop for herself...I want to know if I'll get arrested for using her card. I want to know exactly HOW to use this card. I want to know for sure, before I do her grocery shopping if said card WILL WORK because it is, apparently, according to the lady who issued it, the MOST SENSITIVE CARD EVER MANUFACTURED! I MUST keep it securely in its protective sleeve. I can't get it too close to other cards, my cell phone, batteries, or magnets. This card has almost as many self-esteem issues and phobias as my mother. I have successfully activated it. But, what if I swipe it and the damn thing doesn't WORK! I'm doing two weeks worth of grocery shopping for my mother today, and then I'm going out of the country! My mother sees me as a mildly retarded twelve year old. Every legitimate screw up of my entire life (and a host of perceived fuck ups) is paraded out periodically and "chuckled" over. If this doesn't work, Mom's life will be ruined and IT WILL BE MY FAULT.

This is a ridiculous way for a 54 year old, accomplished, self assured, woman with average intelligence, to behave. ENOUGH! WHATEVER! ONWARD!

Either way, success or crushing failure, this will be a good story. I love a good story....

Fortress of Solitude...

...I don't have one...

I have a few moments in the morning where I can drink a cup of coffee without grand kids hanging off both legs and my left arm...but, that ends at approx. 8am, when I get the obligatory phone call from Nana. This is nothing "new". I've been talking to my mother AT LEAST once a day since before she retired at age 62. She is now, 80. Since retirement, it has been twice a day, morning and evening. This is by arrangement...hers. It's according to VERY strict guidelines formulated from massive expectations...hers. We do not deviate from the plan...I lie...I do not deviate from the plan...or I will die.

The Tall One is always around...I live with him, because we're married and he pays the bills for my indulgent, extravagant life style. He also works out of the shop...in our home. (This is his dream. He would be very grumpy if he had to commute. He's actually a bit put out if he has to spend more than 20 minutes a day in the truck.) I work out of our home, too. I'm putting off the laundry and cleaning as I type. The grand kids will be here before too long, with my daughter who works with my husband in the shop in our house. (And, there's a wart on the frog, on the bump on the log, in the hole at the bottom of the sea....)

On those rare occasions, when there is NO ONE in the immediate vicinity, the phone will ring and I will have to make an unscheduled run to my mother's (it's ok, because it is MY inconvenience, not hers) or to my boss's (because he's a quadriplegic and can't do ANYTHING for himself!). I am 99.9% ok with this, as I realize I am their "lifeline". But, it sucks the solitary out my day. I "nap" with the cell phone turned to vibrate IN MY HAND! I do! Before Nana moved four miles away, and I was still working full-time for Wheeler, I would wake up to the phone (not a cell) at 2am for an emergency run a couple of times a week. I can't do this anymore - physically, I can't. Wheeler has to "schedule" me for night time emergency standby. If I KNOW that he will be calling me (say, when his parents are out of town, or his other, younger, stronger attendants aren't available) I will not ignore hear the phone and rush to his rescue.

I wanted to be a mother...I love being a grandmother...I am a natural care-giver, it is my gift...Tall One annoys me a little bit with his clingy pouting, but it's only because he loves me and enjoys spending obsessive time with me, not out of an inability to do things on his own...

I just want to be left alone sometimes, without feeling guilty (my mother) or worrying that I'm missing something (everyone else).