This is about now as compared to ten years ago.
Now I have a job where I'm working six hours a day and I come home exhausted from it.
Ten years ago I had one full-time job and two part-time jobs and came home exhausted from them.
Now I walk to and from work, about a mile round-trip.
Ten years ago I walked to and from work, about a two mile round-trip. My full-time job was preceded by a two-mile walk on a morning paper route and followed by a four-mile walk on an afternoon paper route. The morning paper was seven days a week, the afternoon paper six days a week.
Now I'm overweight by about 40 pounds.
Ten years ago I was gaining weight even though I walked 8 miles most days. The weight gain wasn't becuz I was starting up walking; I'd been doing the four-mile route for three years. I believe it was a shift in my metabolism due to pre-menopause.
Now I'm recovering from three years of various injuries to my knees, ankles, and hips.
Ten years ago I would get up and walk away from a twisted ankle that resulted in a fall.
Now I know what a 'sedentary lifestyle' is.
Ten years ago I wasn't sure that I was 'active'.
Enough of compare/contrast. I've been writing mostly about physical ?symptoms?. I haven't written about the emotional storms that affected me. Ten years ago I was much stronger emotionally and spiritually than I am now. I am recovering my strength in those areas also.
1997 was a hell of a year. Accent on the 'hell' part.
*My son was sentenced to 50 years in prison.
*Lost my job of 17 years due to a plant closing.
*Started junior college fall of '97.
*My father died in December.
My son's imprisonment at 19 years of age was devastating to me. Followed six months later by the death of my beloved father... more than I could handle.
In April of 1998 my kids' paternal grandfather died; a man I'd known since I was 5 years old. In January of 1999 my stepfather died, 13 months after my father passed away. I was nowhere near recovering from my dad's death after a year. When my stepdad died I still felt as if it were yesterday that my dad had died.
On the advice of a trusted counselor I began taking Prozac. That was interesting, to say the least. I know that other anti-depressants have been developed since then and some are way more effective than Prozac. Safer, too. But Prozac did what I needed at the time, which was to give me some distance from the emotional pain.
My friend Pudgy was concerned about the changes Prozac made in my personality.
He said "I don't know who this person is in your body."
I replied "This is the person I need to be. Cuz this person doesn't hurt so much." He had been thru all the trauma and grief with me, my dear friend, and understood.
He told me "I like Janice. I'm sorry that she hurts so much." I said "Me, too." So we turned a tear-jerker into a bit of sarcasm and knew that all would be well.
I do not know how I managed to continue to go to school or do anything else. Certainly I felt paralyzed by grief. I guess years of doing what had to be done got me thru that time. While I did take Prozac for six months, thru all that time of grief and emotional pain I did not drink alcohol.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Friday, April 20, 2007
One Cat
Pets can be almost as exciting as children. A mixture of pets guarantees a bit of excitement.
I've written about dogs previously, but we do have one cat. Go-Go is the cat's name and she is about six years old. She is a unique cat, in my experience, being an indoor/outdoor cat. Most of the spring and summer she will spend outdoors. She's got a cat village on the north side of the house among the ferns. I know it's truly winter when she wants to come into the house.
Coming into the house used to be a chancy thing for her; way too many dogs in here. A year ago in January we had four dogs. April of 2006 we had our beloved Lily euthanized; she had a cancer that had invaded her spine. June of 2006 our sweet Meekaleek was euthanized; she had a tumor on her liver. Thus our dog population was dramatically, and sadly, reduced.
Our Princessa, Lily, barely tolerated other dogs, let alone other species. As the alpha dog goes, so go the lesser dogs. With two dogs however, Go-Go is willing to take her chances. Some back-up from the humans helps, of course. In the past six months she's gotten reacquainted with the inside of the house. Enough so to have evolved a routine of sitting on MySpouse's lap while he reads his daily blogs.
Although we feed her, she continues to hunt. The Saturday before Easter she had a headless baby rabbit in front of the porch door. I said to MySpouse "Everybody bites the head off the bunny first." I was glad I hadn't eaten yet. When we returned from shopping the rabbit corpse was gone, thankfully.
Mostly Go-Go hunts and catches birds. A lot of starlings, I think. MySpouse says they are extremely stupid birds and dislikes them intensely. I've never encountered any brightly colored plumage in her leavings; no evidence of bluejays, cardinals, or flickers being the meal of the day.
This morning I saw her trotting down the walkway with a bundle of dull feathers in her mouth and promptly forgot what I'd seen. I came in from the backyard intending to pass thru the house to the front yard and do a flower walk. When I opened the front door the dogs burst out onto the porch, Go-Go jumped onto the chest freezer, and the bird flew into the house.
The bird bumbled about in the living room, then found it's way into the kitchen.
I put the dogs out in the backyard. Brought Go-Go into the kitchen and said "Find your prey and get it out of here." Then I took a cup of coffee to the backyard and said to the dogs "Deja vu, kids; I think we've done this before." I stayed outdoors long enough to drink my coffee, about 15 minutes.
Hopefully that was long enough for Go-Go to find her bird. Now all I have to do is figure out where in the house she may have taken the bird and put it outdoors. Before I bathe and get ready for work...
I've written about dogs previously, but we do have one cat. Go-Go is the cat's name and she is about six years old. She is a unique cat, in my experience, being an indoor/outdoor cat. Most of the spring and summer she will spend outdoors. She's got a cat village on the north side of the house among the ferns. I know it's truly winter when she wants to come into the house.
Coming into the house used to be a chancy thing for her; way too many dogs in here. A year ago in January we had four dogs. April of 2006 we had our beloved Lily euthanized; she had a cancer that had invaded her spine. June of 2006 our sweet Meekaleek was euthanized; she had a tumor on her liver. Thus our dog population was dramatically, and sadly, reduced.
Our Princessa, Lily, barely tolerated other dogs, let alone other species. As the alpha dog goes, so go the lesser dogs. With two dogs however, Go-Go is willing to take her chances. Some back-up from the humans helps, of course. In the past six months she's gotten reacquainted with the inside of the house. Enough so to have evolved a routine of sitting on MySpouse's lap while he reads his daily blogs.
Although we feed her, she continues to hunt. The Saturday before Easter she had a headless baby rabbit in front of the porch door. I said to MySpouse "Everybody bites the head off the bunny first." I was glad I hadn't eaten yet. When we returned from shopping the rabbit corpse was gone, thankfully.
Mostly Go-Go hunts and catches birds. A lot of starlings, I think. MySpouse says they are extremely stupid birds and dislikes them intensely. I've never encountered any brightly colored plumage in her leavings; no evidence of bluejays, cardinals, or flickers being the meal of the day.
This morning I saw her trotting down the walkway with a bundle of dull feathers in her mouth and promptly forgot what I'd seen. I came in from the backyard intending to pass thru the house to the front yard and do a flower walk. When I opened the front door the dogs burst out onto the porch, Go-Go jumped onto the chest freezer, and the bird flew into the house.
The bird bumbled about in the living room, then found it's way into the kitchen.
I put the dogs out in the backyard. Brought Go-Go into the kitchen and said "Find your prey and get it out of here." Then I took a cup of coffee to the backyard and said to the dogs "Deja vu, kids; I think we've done this before." I stayed outdoors long enough to drink my coffee, about 15 minutes.
Hopefully that was long enough for Go-Go to find her bird. Now all I have to do is figure out where in the house she may have taken the bird and put it outdoors. Before I bathe and get ready for work...
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Car Dogs Don't Make House Payments
It's wonderful to be married. Really.
It's wonderful to be married to someone that I have things in common with. Like sarcasm.
Was a long day for both of us. Ending with a trip to an auto salvage yard where a transmission will be installed in my car. I proposed that we eat at the Oriental buffet cuz I knew we were both too tired to cook at home.
Most often MySpouse strikes people as being very quiet. He is quiet with people he doesn't know well. I'm outgoing, outspoken; the social bumblebee of the two of us...opposites attract, let us not forget. We make a good couple, he and I.
We took a little detour on the way home so he could see in daylight where the city had cut down some trees. Admired the Canadian geese down along the creek. I wondered aloud if they're the same geese that were there last year when I was walking Meekaleek near the creek. I got to see the fuzzy goslings gather around their mama when we startled them with our presence last spring. I recall being surprised that Meekaleek, the inveterate water dog, didn't wade into the creek after them.
We talked a bit, stopped at that spot, then continued on to our home. Pulled into the driveway and I waited until MySpouse shut the truck off to point out a bird in the maple tree and ask "Does that look like a blue jay to you?"
He squinted up into the tree and replied "Yeah, I think I see a crest on it's head."
He rolled down his window to open the truck door on his side and I groaned.
"What? You in a hurry or something?"
"Oh, no, no hurry here." he replied, "I'm perfectly happy to sit in the truck in the driveway of our home."
"My feet hurt too much to move. Let's just sit here for a couple of minutes." I whined.
"Okay", he agreed.
"And by the way, thanks for running all over the county for me today. I'm so glad that you're such a good husband. I'm so glad you're my husband." I told him. I was tired enough to be a bit mushy.
"Well, I'm lucky to have such a good wife."
I retorted "Of course you're lucky. You've got a great wife. Pretty, smart, got a job or two, likes dogs...you are one lucky guy."
As I recited the list he nodded his head and said 'uh-huh, uh-huh'. I looked over at him as he continued to nod and say 'uh-huh' and saw a familiar rhythm to his nodding. I asked suspiciously, "Are you imitating a car dog?"
He replied "Nooooooo. Car dogs don't make house payments. I'm just agreeing with my lovely wife."
Yeah, we're married.
It's wonderful to be married to someone that I have things in common with. Like sarcasm.
Was a long day for both of us. Ending with a trip to an auto salvage yard where a transmission will be installed in my car. I proposed that we eat at the Oriental buffet cuz I knew we were both too tired to cook at home.
Most often MySpouse strikes people as being very quiet. He is quiet with people he doesn't know well. I'm outgoing, outspoken; the social bumblebee of the two of us...opposites attract, let us not forget. We make a good couple, he and I.
We took a little detour on the way home so he could see in daylight where the city had cut down some trees. Admired the Canadian geese down along the creek. I wondered aloud if they're the same geese that were there last year when I was walking Meekaleek near the creek. I got to see the fuzzy goslings gather around their mama when we startled them with our presence last spring. I recall being surprised that Meekaleek, the inveterate water dog, didn't wade into the creek after them.
We talked a bit, stopped at that spot, then continued on to our home. Pulled into the driveway and I waited until MySpouse shut the truck off to point out a bird in the maple tree and ask "Does that look like a blue jay to you?"
He squinted up into the tree and replied "Yeah, I think I see a crest on it's head."
He rolled down his window to open the truck door on his side and I groaned.
"What? You in a hurry or something?"
"Oh, no, no hurry here." he replied, "I'm perfectly happy to sit in the truck in the driveway of our home."
"My feet hurt too much to move. Let's just sit here for a couple of minutes." I whined.
"Okay", he agreed.
"And by the way, thanks for running all over the county for me today. I'm so glad that you're such a good husband. I'm so glad you're my husband." I told him. I was tired enough to be a bit mushy.
"Well, I'm lucky to have such a good wife."
I retorted "Of course you're lucky. You've got a great wife. Pretty, smart, got a job or two, likes dogs...you are one lucky guy."
As I recited the list he nodded his head and said 'uh-huh, uh-huh'. I looked over at him as he continued to nod and say 'uh-huh' and saw a familiar rhythm to his nodding. I asked suspiciously, "Are you imitating a car dog?"
He replied "Nooooooo. Car dogs don't make house payments. I'm just agreeing with my lovely wife."
Yeah, we're married.
Employment Anew
I will start my new job at 9:30 AM. I'm always a bit nervous at first, but not nearly so much as I used to be. I found an antidote to new-job nervousness several years ago. A change in attitude can make a world of difference. Instead of thinking 'New Job' , I started thinking of it as 'New Skills'.
To date, I have learned:
+ to iron shirts properly.
+ to water plants
+ to judge the age of picked sweet corn
+ to operate a slicer
+ to hang clothing properly
+ the importance of signage to a business
+ to make change properly (a lost art)
Today I'm looking forward to an orientation and paperwork and my first experience making ice cream cones. I expect to end the day sticky but happy.
Some things never change.
To date, I have learned:
+ to iron shirts properly.
+ to water plants
+ to judge the age of picked sweet corn
+ to operate a slicer
+ to hang clothing properly
+ the importance of signage to a business
+ to make change properly (a lost art)
Today I'm looking forward to an orientation and paperwork and my first experience making ice cream cones. I expect to end the day sticky but happy.
Some things never change.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Job Hunting: The Sequel
"The future's uncertain and the end is always near..."
That's a great line in a Doors' song but it's not what anyone wants to hear from an employer.
It prompted me to begin job hunting again. Apparently I'm getting better at stalking the elusive job; this time it only took three days.
Saying 'Goodbye' to a person I'd come to admire and respect, a fellow employee at the restaurant, I stopped into the local Daisy Quean to get an ice cream cake for the goodbye gathering. It was slack time in the afternoon, about 2:00 PM. The manager of Daisy Quean had time to chat so I told him what I knew about the restaurant across the street. At the end of our visiting he told me they were needing help, would I want to fill out an application?
He gave me an application on Saturday. I filled it out Monday morning and then walked to Daisy Quean to return it to him. Returning the application segued into an interview. All I could say about quitting the restaurant is that there's a reason rats desert a sinking ship. An interview turned into hiring. I start Thursday morning at 9:30 AM.
It's a big deal to me, having a job I can walk to. Transportation has been an issue for a couple of years and I'm ready to address it. We're going to replace the transmission in my car this next week. I hope that will get me another year's use of the car. Getting another vehicle is my goal financially.
I'll try to remember that when I'm looking at beads, books, and clothing.
That's a great line in a Doors' song but it's not what anyone wants to hear from an employer.
It prompted me to begin job hunting again. Apparently I'm getting better at stalking the elusive job; this time it only took three days.
Saying 'Goodbye' to a person I'd come to admire and respect, a fellow employee at the restaurant, I stopped into the local Daisy Quean to get an ice cream cake for the goodbye gathering. It was slack time in the afternoon, about 2:00 PM. The manager of Daisy Quean had time to chat so I told him what I knew about the restaurant across the street. At the end of our visiting he told me they were needing help, would I want to fill out an application?
He gave me an application on Saturday. I filled it out Monday morning and then walked to Daisy Quean to return it to him. Returning the application segued into an interview. All I could say about quitting the restaurant is that there's a reason rats desert a sinking ship. An interview turned into hiring. I start Thursday morning at 9:30 AM.
It's a big deal to me, having a job I can walk to. Transportation has been an issue for a couple of years and I'm ready to address it. We're going to replace the transmission in my car this next week. I hope that will get me another year's use of the car. Getting another vehicle is my goal financially.
I'll try to remember that when I'm looking at beads, books, and clothing.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Write Now
I was actually home when my son called. He's been calling at intervals for three weeks, trying to catch me home. With two part-time jobs my schedule was very erratic; difficult to say when I'd be available to take a call. He was able to catch MySpouse Monday evening and get some idea of what my schedule was running to. So Wednesday morning I was here to answer the phone and talk to my son.
It's not that we have exciting news to share with each other. My life is settled and semi-boring, his life is the same. Considering that he's in prison you would expect that. The thrill of a phone call from him is that we get to talk to each other.
I've written about my kids a bit. I've had issues with them, as most parents do with their children. Although we've had our differences, we do love each other. I don't always approve of their life choices but the point is that it is their life, not mine. When I was their age I'm sure I was still driving my mama nuts.
That was my mother's curse when we were teenagers: "I hope you have six kids just like you."
It's good that I had only two children. I have one child just like me.
Talking to my son, I told him about starting up a blog, that being most of the excitement in my life now. Prison is mostly about boring inmates to distraction; nothing about rehabilitation to it.
He asked that I post his address so that someone will write to him.
Here is my son's address:
Raymond N. Hinders
#1107975
Anamosa State Penitentiary
406 North High Street
P. O. Box 10
Anamosa, IA
52206-0010
Thank you in advance to anyone who writes to him.
It's not that we have exciting news to share with each other. My life is settled and semi-boring, his life is the same. Considering that he's in prison you would expect that. The thrill of a phone call from him is that we get to talk to each other.
I've written about my kids a bit. I've had issues with them, as most parents do with their children. Although we've had our differences, we do love each other. I don't always approve of their life choices but the point is that it is their life, not mine. When I was their age I'm sure I was still driving my mama nuts.
That was my mother's curse when we were teenagers: "I hope you have six kids just like you."
It's good that I had only two children. I have one child just like me.
Talking to my son, I told him about starting up a blog, that being most of the excitement in my life now. Prison is mostly about boring inmates to distraction; nothing about rehabilitation to it.
He asked that I post his address so that someone will write to him.
Here is my son's address:
Raymond N. Hinders
#1107975
Anamosa State Penitentiary
406 North High Street
P. O. Box 10
Anamosa, IA
52206-0010
Thank you in advance to anyone who writes to him.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Yes, I Inhaled
It's good that I'm not a politician. I can be honest about smoking marijuana. I did inhale, altho it took me a long time to learn how since I'd never smoked cigarettes. In my early to mid-20's I used half-a-dozen different drugs. None of them to the point of excess or abuse, except for alcohol.
When my kids were old enough to be talked to about drug use I had first-hand experience with the effects. I did drugs for the same reason that most people do: peer pressure. Many of the people that were my age were using drugs and I was curious. Some of the people I was acquainted with then were addicted to various drugs; observing them gave me knowledge to pass along to my kids.
Talking to my kids about drugs didn't stop them from using drugs, any more than talking to kids about sex keeps them from having sex. I did think it was important to let my kids know that experimenting with drugs wouldn't make monsters of them.
Talking to my kids about drugs didn't keep them from becoming addicted to drugs. My daughter smokes cigarettes. My son is in prison for acts he committed while under the influence of alcohol and crank.
I always feel some responsibility for my son's imprisonment. I didn't get sober until 1993 when my son was 15 years old. I believe his attitudes were less malleable, that my sobriety didn't make an impression on him. My daughter would have been 12 years old when I quit drinking and my sobriety did make an impression on her. I feel that if I had been a stronger influence on my son he wouldn't be in prison. Isn't guilt a wonderful thing?
Twenty years ago teenagers were far less likely to be taking prescription drugs than they are today. Kids today are pretty casual about swapping their prescription drugs with friends.
I wonder what they will say to their children about drug use?
When my kids were old enough to be talked to about drug use I had first-hand experience with the effects. I did drugs for the same reason that most people do: peer pressure. Many of the people that were my age were using drugs and I was curious. Some of the people I was acquainted with then were addicted to various drugs; observing them gave me knowledge to pass along to my kids.
Talking to my kids about drugs didn't stop them from using drugs, any more than talking to kids about sex keeps them from having sex. I did think it was important to let my kids know that experimenting with drugs wouldn't make monsters of them.
Talking to my kids about drugs didn't keep them from becoming addicted to drugs. My daughter smokes cigarettes. My son is in prison for acts he committed while under the influence of alcohol and crank.
I always feel some responsibility for my son's imprisonment. I didn't get sober until 1993 when my son was 15 years old. I believe his attitudes were less malleable, that my sobriety didn't make an impression on him. My daughter would have been 12 years old when I quit drinking and my sobriety did make an impression on her. I feel that if I had been a stronger influence on my son he wouldn't be in prison. Isn't guilt a wonderful thing?
Twenty years ago teenagers were far less likely to be taking prescription drugs than they are today. Kids today are pretty casual about swapping their prescription drugs with friends.
I wonder what they will say to their children about drug use?
Monday, April 9, 2007
Smoke Stuff
I got this way without drugs.
I don't have the handy excuse that smoking six tons of weed would give me. I was always a lightweight when it came to smoking pot. Two hits was plenty for me. When I was in my early 20's I smoked pot regularly for a couple years. Averaging two hits once a week over the course of two years. Never had the money or the desire to indulge in more than that.
I remember the last time I smoked dope. It was at a keg party that was being given for my daughter's high school graduation. I hadn't had any alcohol for 7 years and my daughter was very shocked to see me take a hit on the pipe being passed around. Two hits...same old lightweight.
She came over to me with her eyes as big as saucers, absolutely amazed. " Mom? " she queried. Guess she wasn't sure if an alien impostor would answer her. I looked up at her and said "What? Did you think I didn't know how?"
"But you don't drink." I replied "No, but I used to. And I only smoke dope every seven years."
Teenagers can be so gullible.
I told this story at an AA meeting and someone said to me "Sounds like a 'slip'; you should get a white chip." I didn't think it was a slip and I didn't take a white chip over it. I didn't smoke the dope for the same reasons that I drank. Two hits of weed weren't going to turn me into a dope fiend or lead me to drink again. I drank cuz I was utterly miserable emotionally.
I just felt happy and comfortable...that was before I had the smoke. At my parents' rural home, my daughter graduating high school, all of my five siblings adults; just a kind of peaceful interlude. It's very difficult to get six siblings together when they're in their 20's and 30's. Like a lunar eclipse, it wouldn't happen again soon. Two of my siblings drank beer only, one of them drank beer and smoked weed, three of us smoked weed only.
That was that. I haven't smoked pot since then; I haven't needed to forsake years of abstinence from alcohol. It didn't change my life. It didn't get me a walk-on part in "Reefer Madness". And my daughter doesn't remember the occasion cuz she got soused on keg beer.
I don't have the handy excuse that smoking six tons of weed would give me. I was always a lightweight when it came to smoking pot. Two hits was plenty for me. When I was in my early 20's I smoked pot regularly for a couple years. Averaging two hits once a week over the course of two years. Never had the money or the desire to indulge in more than that.
I remember the last time I smoked dope. It was at a keg party that was being given for my daughter's high school graduation. I hadn't had any alcohol for 7 years and my daughter was very shocked to see me take a hit on the pipe being passed around. Two hits...same old lightweight.
She came over to me with her eyes as big as saucers, absolutely amazed. " Mom? " she queried. Guess she wasn't sure if an alien impostor would answer her. I looked up at her and said "What? Did you think I didn't know how?"
"But you don't drink." I replied "No, but I used to. And I only smoke dope every seven years."
Teenagers can be so gullible.
I told this story at an AA meeting and someone said to me "Sounds like a 'slip'; you should get a white chip." I didn't think it was a slip and I didn't take a white chip over it. I didn't smoke the dope for the same reasons that I drank. Two hits of weed weren't going to turn me into a dope fiend or lead me to drink again. I drank cuz I was utterly miserable emotionally.
I just felt happy and comfortable...that was before I had the smoke. At my parents' rural home, my daughter graduating high school, all of my five siblings adults; just a kind of peaceful interlude. It's very difficult to get six siblings together when they're in their 20's and 30's. Like a lunar eclipse, it wouldn't happen again soon. Two of my siblings drank beer only, one of them drank beer and smoked weed, three of us smoked weed only.
That was that. I haven't smoked pot since then; I haven't needed to forsake years of abstinence from alcohol. It didn't change my life. It didn't get me a walk-on part in "Reefer Madness". And my daughter doesn't remember the occasion cuz she got soused on keg beer.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Pony-Tail Holders
Pony-tail holders...where do they go? The same place that socks disappear to, perhaps.
Our house has that same problem with socks that every one else has: they vanish from the dryer. Since my husband and I don't mingle our laundry I know that our missing socks have not slipped away to 'mate' under the couch. Nothing so sordid as that.
I suspect either extra-terrestrial aliens or a government conspiracy. Could be both; the evidence isn't conclusive. I'm betting that somewhere in the desert in New Mexico there is a mountain of socks. Actually, two mountains...one for whites, one for colors. That's your government at work, folks.
However, I believe the aliens are responsible for the disappearance of the pony-tail holders. I believe these aliens are disguising themselves as those four-footed canes that elderly people use instead of a walker. Be on the lookout for a four-footed cane wearing a snotwad of pony-tail holders on its slender body. Male aliens go for bright colors, females tend to wear pastels. And no white after Labor Day; they have adopted some Earth customs.
Perhaps a day will come when scientists will solve the puzzling dilemma of the disappearing pony-tail holders. The day may come too, when our government stops taking socks from innocent citizens and reveals what the socks are really used for.
Our house has that same problem with socks that every one else has: they vanish from the dryer. Since my husband and I don't mingle our laundry I know that our missing socks have not slipped away to 'mate' under the couch. Nothing so sordid as that.
I suspect either extra-terrestrial aliens or a government conspiracy. Could be both; the evidence isn't conclusive. I'm betting that somewhere in the desert in New Mexico there is a mountain of socks. Actually, two mountains...one for whites, one for colors. That's your government at work, folks.
However, I believe the aliens are responsible for the disappearance of the pony-tail holders. I believe these aliens are disguising themselves as those four-footed canes that elderly people use instead of a walker. Be on the lookout for a four-footed cane wearing a snotwad of pony-tail holders on its slender body. Male aliens go for bright colors, females tend to wear pastels. And no white after Labor Day; they have adopted some Earth customs.
Perhaps a day will come when scientists will solve the puzzling dilemma of the disappearing pony-tail holders. The day may come too, when our government stops taking socks from innocent citizens and reveals what the socks are really used for.
Desperately Seeking Boredom
When I started this blog I thought I'd be able to write enough to fill pages and pages. I'm finding that writing daily is a daunting task. Bummer. I'm also finding that my life is pretty boring and for that I'm grateful.
I've worked hard to make my life boring.
I quit drinking booze; when I stopped drinking, I stopped getting arrested. Funny how that worked, huh? Divorced a man who drank heavily; he was very exciting. Except he never got arrested. He peed in some interesting places, though. Dresser drawers, kitchen sink, floorboards of his truck... very interesting.
Shortly after I quit drinking I resolved to be less dramatic. Alcoholics Anonymous showed me that being 'dramatic' was a way to get attention; getting attention is a way to manipulate people. AA prefers that you not manipulate people. They call it "managing and controlling", and they can show you how silly it is to try to manage anything but yourself.
So when I felt that swelling of righteous anger I asked myself "What is my goal here?" If I were honest with myself and the goal was merely to inflate my ego with false indignation then I needed to let go of that. After practicing at letting go of the righteous anger I could feel the dishonesty of it. I became a lot pickier about what required anger as a solution.
My kids are grown and gone from home. There's an end to a whole lot of fun stuff.
I'm amazed at how teens perceive adults as having freedom. We all know that's crap.
Yea, verily, adults are free to freeze their asses off if they don't pay the light bill. Adults are free to sleep under bridges if they don't pay the rent or mortgage payments. Adults are free to starve if they don't earn wages to buy food. Adults are free to walk if they don't own a car.
So yes, if you perceive that as freedom, by all means pursue it.
Then of course, there's the kid who scares the crap out of you by pursuing the freedom of not working. Rent an apartment, have a baby, marry a loser; do anything but work. Hang out with people who are getting disability or food stamps or other guv'mint handouts. Don't look at the cage that those people are in. It's tiny, trust me. Don't listen to your parents when they tell you that getting disability is not a lifetime achievement.
Hey, I let her live. About six months ago she discovered her latent work ethic. She's still married to the loser, but one thing at a time, eh?
I no longer own a business. That had it's share of boredom, but the burden of anxiety was huge. It's a relief to work for someone else and let them make the decisions for their business. There were parts of owning a retail business that I enjoyed very much but those were out-weighed by the churning fear of not succeeding. Thinking about it now is enough to make my stomach knot up.
Simplifying your life is popular these days. I guess that's what I've done, albeit unwittingly. Really, I was searching desperately for boredom.
I've worked hard to make my life boring.
I quit drinking booze; when I stopped drinking, I stopped getting arrested. Funny how that worked, huh? Divorced a man who drank heavily; he was very exciting. Except he never got arrested. He peed in some interesting places, though. Dresser drawers, kitchen sink, floorboards of his truck... very interesting.
Shortly after I quit drinking I resolved to be less dramatic. Alcoholics Anonymous showed me that being 'dramatic' was a way to get attention; getting attention is a way to manipulate people. AA prefers that you not manipulate people. They call it "managing and controlling", and they can show you how silly it is to try to manage anything but yourself.
So when I felt that swelling of righteous anger I asked myself "What is my goal here?" If I were honest with myself and the goal was merely to inflate my ego with false indignation then I needed to let go of that. After practicing at letting go of the righteous anger I could feel the dishonesty of it. I became a lot pickier about what required anger as a solution.
My kids are grown and gone from home. There's an end to a whole lot of fun stuff.
I'm amazed at how teens perceive adults as having freedom. We all know that's crap.
Yea, verily, adults are free to freeze their asses off if they don't pay the light bill. Adults are free to sleep under bridges if they don't pay the rent or mortgage payments. Adults are free to starve if they don't earn wages to buy food. Adults are free to walk if they don't own a car.
So yes, if you perceive that as freedom, by all means pursue it.
Then of course, there's the kid who scares the crap out of you by pursuing the freedom of not working. Rent an apartment, have a baby, marry a loser; do anything but work. Hang out with people who are getting disability or food stamps or other guv'mint handouts. Don't look at the cage that those people are in. It's tiny, trust me. Don't listen to your parents when they tell you that getting disability is not a lifetime achievement.
Hey, I let her live. About six months ago she discovered her latent work ethic. She's still married to the loser, but one thing at a time, eh?
I no longer own a business. That had it's share of boredom, but the burden of anxiety was huge. It's a relief to work for someone else and let them make the decisions for their business. There were parts of owning a retail business that I enjoyed very much but those were out-weighed by the churning fear of not succeeding. Thinking about it now is enough to make my stomach knot up.
Simplifying your life is popular these days. I guess that's what I've done, albeit unwittingly. Really, I was searching desperately for boredom.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Drive a Little
I was reading an article a week ago that said that Americans are not driving less even though the price of gas is rising. In the past there has been a correlation between rising gas prices and decreased driving.
I mentioned the article to MySpouse. He said "Well, how much can you cut down? It's not feasible to quit driving. People need to go their jobs, at least."
He drives about 20 miles round-trip to his job. Since there's overtime where he works he may make that trip seven days a week. Once a week we go to the larger city where he works for entertainment. Every two months we travel to a destination more than 100 miles from home.
We are not doing a lot of 'luxury' driving.
Transportation for me the last couple years has been very limited. In my search for employment I've focused on jobs here in town so that I don't have to drive to work. Anyway, I could stand to walk; my legs need strengthening and I'd like to lose some weight. There's an advantage for me to not drive.
That doesn't work for everyone, I know.
We could cut down on our driving a bit more. He could ride a bicycle to work in nicer weather. Probably not every day, though. He would miss listening to loud country music. We could ride bicycles in nicer weather to the AA meetings in the larger city.
I doubt that we would give up driving completely. Unless we are forced to do so. I hope it doesn't come to that.
I mentioned the article to MySpouse. He said "Well, how much can you cut down? It's not feasible to quit driving. People need to go their jobs, at least."
He drives about 20 miles round-trip to his job. Since there's overtime where he works he may make that trip seven days a week. Once a week we go to the larger city where he works for entertainment. Every two months we travel to a destination more than 100 miles from home.
We are not doing a lot of 'luxury' driving.
Transportation for me the last couple years has been very limited. In my search for employment I've focused on jobs here in town so that I don't have to drive to work. Anyway, I could stand to walk; my legs need strengthening and I'd like to lose some weight. There's an advantage for me to not drive.
That doesn't work for everyone, I know.
We could cut down on our driving a bit more. He could ride a bicycle to work in nicer weather. Probably not every day, though. He would miss listening to loud country music. We could ride bicycles in nicer weather to the AA meetings in the larger city.
I doubt that we would give up driving completely. Unless we are forced to do so. I hope it doesn't come to that.
Play Dates
I kept my promise to the young lady down the street. She brought her puppy to play with Lilac and we roasted marshmallows over a small fire in the backyard.
It was slightly less windy today than yesterday. Slightly warmer also. I made a small fire that would burn down very quickly and not be a danger to the property of my neighbors.
It's been years since I've roasted marshmallows over a campfire; I'd forgotten how sticky they are when you pull them off the skewer. I managed not to get marshmallow in my hair. I was quite proud of myself for being less messy than a teenager.
The puppy wanted to play, of course, but Lilac didn't seem to feel festive. The young lady threw toys around the backyard for her puppy to play with. I suggested that she throw the red ball and see if we could get Lilac interested in playing. The red ball is one of Lilac's favorite toys. That worked. A couple tosses of the red ball got Lilac going and then the two dogs played by themselves.
The puppy and Lilac are still getting to know each other. Puppy is learning some doggy etiquette from Lilac. Like 'I'm older than you, I demand respect.' kind of etiquette. Reminds me of the kind of etiquette my mother taught her children.
I can't say I'm the best example of humanity. Still, I'm pleased that the young lady comes to visit. Talking to MySpouse about her visiting reminds me of something I hear frequently at AA meetings: "Fake it 'til you make it." One of the ways to become what you want to be is to act the way you want to be. To become 'normal' it helps to act normal: visit a neighbor, play with a dog, roast marshmallows.
I know that it will take more than play dates to help the young lady stay sane. We just each have to do our part for her health and sanity, and this is my part.
It was slightly less windy today than yesterday. Slightly warmer also. I made a small fire that would burn down very quickly and not be a danger to the property of my neighbors.
It's been years since I've roasted marshmallows over a campfire; I'd forgotten how sticky they are when you pull them off the skewer. I managed not to get marshmallow in my hair. I was quite proud of myself for being less messy than a teenager.
The puppy wanted to play, of course, but Lilac didn't seem to feel festive. The young lady threw toys around the backyard for her puppy to play with. I suggested that she throw the red ball and see if we could get Lilac interested in playing. The red ball is one of Lilac's favorite toys. That worked. A couple tosses of the red ball got Lilac going and then the two dogs played by themselves.
The puppy and Lilac are still getting to know each other. Puppy is learning some doggy etiquette from Lilac. Like 'I'm older than you, I demand respect.' kind of etiquette. Reminds me of the kind of etiquette my mother taught her children.
I can't say I'm the best example of humanity. Still, I'm pleased that the young lady comes to visit. Talking to MySpouse about her visiting reminds me of something I hear frequently at AA meetings: "Fake it 'til you make it." One of the ways to become what you want to be is to act the way you want to be. To become 'normal' it helps to act normal: visit a neighbor, play with a dog, roast marshmallows.
I know that it will take more than play dates to help the young lady stay sane. We just each have to do our part for her health and sanity, and this is my part.
Productive Insomnia
Waking up at 2:30 AM again. Since this is happening with some regularity I've decided to make productive use of the time. Doing laundry is fairly quiet as household chores go. I can wash my clothes without disturbing MySpouse.
The last two weeks have been rather hectic. I haven't had time to put away clothing I've washed. I find myself digging thru a basket or a pile of clean laundry and I hate doing that. I don't like the way the clothing looks or the clutter of baskets and piles.
Luckily, I haven't had to do anything but brute labor for about ten days so the clothing I've worn is comfortable if not visually elegant. It's hard to get excited about a cotton knit navy turtleneck. I'm going to turn it inside-out anyway, so that the label doesn't chafe the nape of my neck.
All those years of paper routes taught me that inside-out clothing is a good thing sometimes. Socks and turtlenecks are more comfortable that way. Inside-out socks get the toe-seam off the top of your toes. If you're doing a lot of walking the last thing you want is scabs on the tops of your toes. Come to think of it, avoiding scabs anywhere on your body is a good thing.
I have a day off from the part-time job at the restaurant. I have a hundred things to do, so I suppose I should make an effort at prioritizing and listing the hundred things. I have an uncashed paycheck, for pity's sake. That is surely an indication of hectivity if ever there was one.
I want to:
*Do my laundry and put it away.
*Call my mother.
*Cash my paycheck.
*Vacuum the downstairs.
*Wash the soiled rugs.
*Deliver Avon to customers.
*Walk my dogs.
*Write a report for Lions Club.
*Return books to the library (and pay the overdue fees).
*Clean the bathroom.
*Roast marshmallows with the young lady.
That should be enough to keep me occupied today.
I want to stay awake and busy until MySpouse gets home from work. Then the two of us can take a nap. That is one of the benefits of being older adults: nobody hassles you if you want to nap.
There's nothing really harmful in the insomnia, I guess, if I'm not disrupting MySpouse's rest.
Being productive lessens the feeling of wasted time.
The last two weeks have been rather hectic. I haven't had time to put away clothing I've washed. I find myself digging thru a basket or a pile of clean laundry and I hate doing that. I don't like the way the clothing looks or the clutter of baskets and piles.
Luckily, I haven't had to do anything but brute labor for about ten days so the clothing I've worn is comfortable if not visually elegant. It's hard to get excited about a cotton knit navy turtleneck. I'm going to turn it inside-out anyway, so that the label doesn't chafe the nape of my neck.
All those years of paper routes taught me that inside-out clothing is a good thing sometimes. Socks and turtlenecks are more comfortable that way. Inside-out socks get the toe-seam off the top of your toes. If you're doing a lot of walking the last thing you want is scabs on the tops of your toes. Come to think of it, avoiding scabs anywhere on your body is a good thing.
I have a day off from the part-time job at the restaurant. I have a hundred things to do, so I suppose I should make an effort at prioritizing and listing the hundred things. I have an uncashed paycheck, for pity's sake. That is surely an indication of hectivity if ever there was one.
I want to:
*Do my laundry and put it away.
*Call my mother.
*Cash my paycheck.
*Vacuum the downstairs.
*Wash the soiled rugs.
*Deliver Avon to customers.
*Walk my dogs.
*Write a report for Lions Club.
*Return books to the library (and pay the overdue fees).
*Clean the bathroom.
*Roast marshmallows with the young lady.
That should be enough to keep me occupied today.
I want to stay awake and busy until MySpouse gets home from work. Then the two of us can take a nap. That is one of the benefits of being older adults: nobody hassles you if you want to nap.
There's nothing really harmful in the insomnia, I guess, if I'm not disrupting MySpouse's rest.
Being productive lessens the feeling of wasted time.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Someone's Daughter
A 'normal' teenager can drive their parents nuts. It happened to me with my two kids; I'm sure it has happened to lots of other parents. My son ended up in prison before he had the chance to do some of the things that my daughter has done. I recently wrote a post where I expressed anger at some of the things my daughter did. Or, in some cases, didn't do.
Before my son's sentencing I was talking to my daughter about it, trying to convey the seriousness of his situation. She looked at me and said "Well, you won't have to worry about Nick giving you grandkids." I was too amazed at how she went from Point A to Point Z to protest. Instead of reprimanding her I went into the bathroom, shut the door, looked in the mirror and shook my head. Finally I laughed a little, saying to myself "I'll be damned." The world returned to normal then.
That happened ten years ago. I've not forgotten exactly what she said and I still shake my head over it.
As per the post on March 30, 2007 my daughter went through a time of extreme laziness. It was such a thorough abdication that I began to fear there was some mental illness at the
root of it. MySpouse has a niece who behaved like my daughter and testing found that the niece had a chemical imbalance. The niece can take meds for her problem.
I wasn't willing to let my daughter off the hook so easily. I remembered how lazy I was when I was in school. Teachers despaired of me. I was lazy; potential be damned.
Turns out my daughter's aversion to working at a job was mostly attitude and perception. She found a job that fits her like a designer gown. It's second shift hours - 2:00 PM to 10:00 PM. Those are the hours that she would slide around to if there were no pressure on her internal clock. She gets to be bossy; as the oldest female of her generation she's done a lot of babysitting over the years. This job as a security guard is perfect for her.
That's my daughter. I love her, but I'm not willing to let her bullshit me.
What concerns me here and now is someone else's daughter.
The young lady comes to visit me and brings her puppy that she was given as a
Christmas gift. My dog Lilac will play with the puppy, but my other dog, Jackson, growls and threatens the puppy. The solution to the problem is to leave Jackson in the house while Lilac and the rest of us go out to the backyard to socialize and play.
I'm writing about this so that I remember that coming here may help the young lady to heal. I'd never hold out my home as a bastion of sanity but it's not as harmful as some places a teenage girl could go. This past fall the young lady was in the grip of psychosis, having schizophrenic episodes, terrifying her parents. Their fear was for her. For her life and sanity.
They feared for their child just as every parent does. As I did for my daughter.
The young lady was hospitalized, tested for various things. Tests revealed a cyst in her brain that may have been the cause of the psychotic episodes. Or may not... Medications were tried in various doses until a balance was achieved that lets the young lady function reasonably well.
I try to remember to welcome the young lady when I truly have time. Try to remember not to feel put upon when she knocks on my door. I try to remember to be honest with her when I really don't have time to visit.
Her parents trust me with their daughter. They trust me not to harm her.
Before my son's sentencing I was talking to my daughter about it, trying to convey the seriousness of his situation. She looked at me and said "Well, you won't have to worry about Nick giving you grandkids." I was too amazed at how she went from Point A to Point Z to protest. Instead of reprimanding her I went into the bathroom, shut the door, looked in the mirror and shook my head. Finally I laughed a little, saying to myself "I'll be damned." The world returned to normal then.
That happened ten years ago. I've not forgotten exactly what she said and I still shake my head over it.
As per the post on March 30, 2007 my daughter went through a time of extreme laziness. It was such a thorough abdication that I began to fear there was some mental illness at the
root of it. MySpouse has a niece who behaved like my daughter and testing found that the niece had a chemical imbalance. The niece can take meds for her problem.
I wasn't willing to let my daughter off the hook so easily. I remembered how lazy I was when I was in school. Teachers despaired of me. I was lazy; potential be damned.
Turns out my daughter's aversion to working at a job was mostly attitude and perception. She found a job that fits her like a designer gown. It's second shift hours - 2:00 PM to 10:00 PM. Those are the hours that she would slide around to if there were no pressure on her internal clock. She gets to be bossy; as the oldest female of her generation she's done a lot of babysitting over the years. This job as a security guard is perfect for her.
That's my daughter. I love her, but I'm not willing to let her bullshit me.
What concerns me here and now is someone else's daughter.
The young lady comes to visit me and brings her puppy that she was given as a
Christmas gift. My dog Lilac will play with the puppy, but my other dog, Jackson, growls and threatens the puppy. The solution to the problem is to leave Jackson in the house while Lilac and the rest of us go out to the backyard to socialize and play.
I'm writing about this so that I remember that coming here may help the young lady to heal. I'd never hold out my home as a bastion of sanity but it's not as harmful as some places a teenage girl could go. This past fall the young lady was in the grip of psychosis, having schizophrenic episodes, terrifying her parents. Their fear was for her. For her life and sanity.
They feared for their child just as every parent does. As I did for my daughter.
The young lady was hospitalized, tested for various things. Tests revealed a cyst in her brain that may have been the cause of the psychotic episodes. Or may not... Medications were tried in various doses until a balance was achieved that lets the young lady function reasonably well.
I try to remember to welcome the young lady when I truly have time. Try to remember not to feel put upon when she knocks on my door. I try to remember to be honest with her when I really don't have time to visit.
Her parents trust me with their daughter. They trust me not to harm her.
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