Not What it Seems

Hot

2012-01-19T06:01:00.000-05:00

I am hot. Really freaken hot. Except when I am freezing cold. My internal thermostat is broken. Yesterday, the furnace at work stopped. Pressing the reset button for 15 seconds as the directions say to didn't work. I eventually called the service guy who held the red button for 45 seconds, as is apparently the correct amount of time. So why does it say 15?
And by the by, where is my reset button? And how long do I hold it? Can I hold it or do I need a technician?
All day long I usually have my coat on or a yoga blanket wrapped around me and a space heater blasting me in my office. My hands are ice cold regardless.
Night time? I am most likely responsible for melting the polar ice caps. The other night I woke and felt sweat dripping like a leaky faucet into my belly-button. Anything next to me or on me is soaked in the morning.
I have been routinely waking up at 3:13 AM. I did a little bit of research and discovered my out of balance chakras, and that that time period is ruled by water, (hah) the bladder & kidneys, and that in general I am a mess.
And that I really wish my insurance covered acupuncture.

For the Record

2012-01-17T13:09:00.000-05:00

I am getting very tired of people asking me intimate questions, or commenting repeatedly about my weight loss. It happens all day, every day. Yes, I've lost a lot of weight. No, I don't know why I am losing weight. Yet. No, I do not have anorexia, cancer, a drug problem, AIDS, whatever you are thinking I have......

Would any of these people, most of whom I am sure are well-meaning, talk about this to me if the opposite were true? If I was packing on the pounds instead of shedding them? I doubt it.Not to my face anyway.

Do they really want to know that I am having my period every 12 days and it lasts anywhere from 15 days to a month? Cause I think I may start telling them that this may be the problem. Or that I have migraines 4-8 times a week which, in combination with the medication I take for them makes me lose my appetite? Or that a severe mold allergy may be the culprit? I am bored typing this- Do I give them a list of what I have eaten in the past week and then let them know that despite the mac and cheese, lobster enchiladas, chicken wings, cheesy crab dip etc. I have lost another two pounds?

Oh, yes, I am worried. I am unhappy with the treatment from my primary care physician and will be replacing her. But please, STOP! I know it is winter and there is not a lot to talk about, but a bit of privacy and decorum would go a long way to reducing my stress. I already sorely miss having breasts and a butt; please don't make me lose my mind.

The Change(s)

2012-01-07T08:21:00.000-05:00

Changes are fast approaching- some I've known were coming;others that have taken me by surprise, and some were only hinted at by a vague sense of discomfort, as though wearing shoes that didn't quite fit.

The big change is exactly that- I am thoroughly in the throes of perimenapause- albeit somewhat differently than I expected. In addition to the more typical symptoms, I have lost 50 lbs without trying; my appetite is gone. Even when I force myself to gag something down, I continue to lose weight. (Here you can add whatever rant you choose about unhelpful doctors) Minor surgery is in the offing.

For a long while I have known, that although I love much about my job, and can do it well, I miss working with children with autism. A member came into my office, having been told what I did in my former life and we spent an hour talking about her son. Normally an unplanned interruption of my day would make me crazy, but I was energized. I felt that I was just where I belonged. I felt competent, helpful and relaxed. And again, though I know I am doing good work where I am, after a year, I feel I have been on the defensive since I took the job. And I am worn down.

And then I took my vacation- 10 days away from work, 2 of which I spent in a city. And then I remembered. It awakened the feelings I had when, as a young, suburban mother, I would steal time to take the train into NYC- that I had just been removed from a sensory-deprivation tank and the world came flooding in. I had forgotten what people look like in an urban area, how the fast paced walk and long strides feel good, how having anything I wanted within reach of those strides was something I loved.

I have not been writing, not been creating art, and most telling, not visiting the beach. The beach was my food, my church, my inspiration. I completed 2.5 poetry manuscripts there. There is much I will always love about small-town/island life but there is something more I need that I cannot get here.

I am ready to do some walking. Don't think I am not afraid- starting over AGAIN, at 50 is frightening. I have doubts, fears, worries and anxiety. But underneath, there is a sense of excitement, of "rightness".

The little things

2011-11-22T18:47:00.000-05:00

As Dorothy Parker said, " It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes." The past week has been living proof of that. Nearly EVERYTHING I own or need at work has broken. The largest of the messes has been my car which needed more than the tires I had put off buying, but two new axles as well, leaving me trapped on the island- too dangerous to even drive over the causeway.
But here is one good thing; one of the routine events that take place here and give me pause when I make plans to leave for a walkable city with bagels and coffee shops and museums and movie theatres- My mechanic came to my office, picked up my car and made arrangements with a friend of mine to take his car so I was not stranded while my car is being repaired. I didn't ask; he just did it.
So maybe this week the messes won't kill me.

Missing

2011-11-21T19:19:00.000-05:00

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell."

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I never was a person who missed anyone. Oh, I thought about people far from me and reminisced about things we had done together but I always found the memories sustained me. My mother used to say my birth father was like that; it was obviously a bad trait. For most of my life I had it; genetic or a defense against pain, it worked for me.
I rarely felt alone and could go days without speaking to another soul. Something has changed and, as Edna, the first poet I ever loved and memorized said, "I miss you like hell." Missing you is Hell.
It affects my work, my concentration, my sleep, my soul. No wonder I avoided this all these years. Your absence is an abyss I cannot help but fall into.
Knowing you miss me too should help, but it makes me cry and rage. I am the weeping downstairs neighbor you feel sorry for but turn your music up to drown out or you'd be crying too.

A favorite poem

2011-11-10T21:13:00.000-05:00

Among my favorite poems

Warning

2011-11-09T19:00:00.001-05:00

My answer to Midlife Bloggers writing prompt.

There's a red sky this morning.
Stay home today, baby;
The water doesn't need to take you today.
Drop anchor here with me awhile
and we'll rock in bed instead
of on the ocean.

I'll make you a hot lunch
instead of a cold sandwich,
and tell you stories of mermaids
and dolphins that save
drowning men.

And you'll save me
from fears that clog my throat
and flood my heart so I can't swallow
or take a breath.

I'm warning you,
there'll be no red sky tonight
if you gas up that boat
and sail.

Surprise!

2011-11-09T15:31:00.001-05:00

I have never enjoyed being surprised; chalk it up to being born a person who prefers having some control over events... yes, a control freak for lack of a better term. I'd rather tell you what I want for my birthday or Christmas and then be happy when I receive it. Please don't drop in on me because you were passing by. Call and give me a chance to decide if I am fit for human consumption. Get the idea?

Three times in the last 6 weeks I have been surprised. One was not awful, but nevertheless I could have lived without it and two were at best, unpleasant.

I went to the dentist for a filling and got a root canal instead; and a piece of a tool LEFT in my tooth. Why, thank you! A DOUBLE surprise ( triple if you count the cost of the alternate procedure and the ensuing medication)

People at work threw me a surprise 50th birthday party- this would count as the not awful thing if I did not have a kind of post-traumatic disorder left over from childhood holidays and birthdays where everyone watched as I opened presents and were quite vocal over how I SHOULD have responded versus how I actually did. I am now nearly paralyzed by the act of opening gifts in front of people..Plus, it went on for HOURS effectively throwing my carefully prepared work schedule out the window... I know. I should be touched and grateful that people went to a lot of trouble on my behalf; and truly, I am. However, as I said, I could have lived without it.... Cards are nice.

Today I drove through horrific, frightening fog to meet with a Physician's Assistant to discuss a procedure; a consult, I thought. The next thing I knew my feet were in the stirrups and I was having a biopsy of my uterine lining. Whoa. I really could have skipped that. I did my yoga breathing throughout the explanation and the procedure and anticipate continuing my 6 breaths to a minute for 7-10 days until the results are back. Why does it take so long? Everything else is instantaneous. I asked why; "Because it goes to Pathology." I wish I kept my mouth shut.
I am taking a medication until the results are back- note to self- do not EVER google side effects again. And isn't it weird to be prescribed a medication that can cause the same things that it is supposed to treat?

So, SURPRISE! I would like a couple of quiet, boring days please.

Seeing

2011-11-08T19:11:00.004-05:00

I'm not sure anyone really wants to read a poem you've written about them, unless it is a love poem extolling the virtues of your person of interest. If you write a real poem, where you see a person, even if they've exposed that side to you, perhaps especially if they have, they don't necessarily want to read it.

I, who have spent most of my life fervently wishing for invisibility, have also spent it wishing to be truly seen without the seer retreating in fear and loathing. And yet, would I wish to see a poem, written by an intimate, about the me I try to disguise?

I am always tempted to show the poem to its subject. So they know, I see you, all of you, the lovely, the sad, the frightful, the funny and the all the pain and still, I love you.

Once, at writing group, my grandson came with me, and I read a poem I wrote about a day and night with him, where his loveliness and spark flew at me, and I had to write it down before I was left with just a feather of remembrance, and he cried with anger at me; felt I had stolen something from him. I felt awful that he was upset, but knew, secretly, that I would have felt worse had I not written it.

And so a poem languishes on my iPhone and tucked away in my computer that I would love to share, as a message; that family history is not destiny, that self-loathing can be sometimes be softly erased, that not loving yourself does not mean you are unworthy of love.

Maybe the greater act of love is simply in having written it and then hidden it away.

Sand, sea and superstition

2011-01-06T20:32:00.001-05:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I ate my black eyed peas and symbolically cleansed myself by jumping into the ocean on New Year's Day. Since then I have been offered and accepted the position of Executive Director at my job, and today received a notice that a poem I submitted was accepted for publication.
Did those two things, or the planets current alignment in favor of my astrological sign affect my life in this manner? Maybe. I am not discounting it.
But truly a large factor was an enormous struggle to let go of a lot of things that have been plaguing me for a very long time. I've been successful in the past when my lack of control over the world had so overwhelmed me that I had no choice but to let go and let God or the Universe have their way. I have not been so hot at sustaining the act of letting go. I may not be this time. But while I am in this place I am damn well going to enjoy it.

PS- Lest you think too many good things have happened, allow me to share that the local paper published a picture of me in my bathing suit after 4 months of no exercise.

Plunging In

2011-01-02T10:40:00.000-05:00

I did it; I loved it, and there I am emerging energized and exhilarated from my dive into the ocean. I was UUUUUPPPP for hours afterward, and then very sleepy so I napped. Black eyed peas with dinner. 2011 come on in.

The more things change...

2010-12-27T09:02:00.000-05:00

I am deep cleaning a house that has not been thoroughly cleaned in almost a year. Which house? The house I lived in with my husband. Why? Oh, I am moving back. With my daughter and my grandson. My daughter is pregnant. My husband is up in DC with his family until Thursday and daughter and grandson are due here this week. I am grateful for the time alone to adjust to all of this, and to do the kind of cleaning I do, but I wish some crack team of cleaners would knock on the door and be done with it in a couple of hours. And perhaps some magic carpenters to add some extra space....
We are attempting to pull together as a family to help each other. I am frightened, anxious, sad, worried.... and praying that we can do this. There will some big personalities in this little space.
As for my post regarding an adventure, this may count as one but I am also planning to do the Pony Plunge on New Years Day- yes, jumping into the Atlantic Ocean on Jan. 1, 2011 at 1:11 PM. I am signing a DNR order and leaving it with Robin, since if I do this insane thing and have a heart attack, I will be too ashamed to live.
I will miss my water view and coffee with the ponies, my solitude and being in charge of my own time, but it is what it is- my daughter's pregnancy is fragile, my husband needs financial help and I need my grandson.
I am moving slowly, but feeling the pressure of the imminent arrivals plus the God knows how many feet of snow we got yesterday is adding to my slothfulness.
Brand spanking new bunk beds are in my car, curtains are in the wash, bleach is permeating every surface and I have to work in 3 hours. Wish me luck.

What to do, what to do...

2010-09-09T10:29:00.000-04:00

I am feeling a bit restless; what would have been a day to celebrate yesterday was not, as it was my 3rd anniversary. My gift from my husband was to remind me that it was the start of Rosh Hashanah, the time of atonement and forgiveness.
I've been pondering how to deal with this feeling ( like restless leg of the brain) and am coming up short. I could "go on a tear" but I am nearly certain that involves mass quantities of alcohol, sleeping
with strangers and public humiliation. I need an adventure of some sort. Any suggestions? Keep them simple, cheap and clean....

September

2010-09-03T16:25:00.004-04:00

Where the heck did the last two months go? I know I hid my head a bit during the thick of the season but jeez...

My best friend Robin and her husband bought Bookhounds (now Bookhounds PLUS and live here on the island... It doesn't get much better than that.
I met a wonderful online person in real life ( read her: The Library LadyRants).
Lucha is all ready for school to start; he actually said he wished he could go tomorrow... His teacher dims the lights in the morning and plays classical music while the children settle in for the day...
I am 99% sure I have a place to rent in October; although it will be hard to leave my magical environment, I knew it was just a place to heal and regroup.
Despite a cold, I feel well, happy and healthy.

Tomorrow

2010-07-27T17:10:00.002-04:00

is the 85th Annual Pony Swim. I wonder where I will be on the 100th swim?

Independence Day

2010-07-04T10:17:00.004-04:00

Trite but true- I have begun my own period of independence. Following a series of unfortunate incidents, I am separated from my husband.

I spent the first week in NY visiting my daughters and my friends, Robin and Chris. Nothing could have healed me as their love and company did. They are on my long list of people to whom I am grateful. Additionally, the family that has opened up their home, deserve every good thing the universe can bring them.
I will do my best to pass on the love, trust and friendship they have given me.

In celebration of all these riches I have joined Boot Camp- 1.5 hours 2x a week of punishing, brutal workout, plus a yoga class. After 48 years, I thought it might be time to give my body some attention.

I am finding me again. And don't tell anyone, but the strangest thing happens every morning as I look out at the water through my bedroom window; I smile. IN THE MORNING! BEFORE COFFEE!
oh yes, I am cutting WAY down on my smoking too....

Shadow

2010-06-03T05:56:00.003-04:00

I didn't love Shadow instantly. He was a big, gallumphing puppy when I met him. He jumped up on me, leaving a 7 inch long, deep scratch on my arm to greet me. Over the years he ate a couch, opened the refrigerator door and devoured an entire container of Country Crock spread and stored found clam shells under the furniture. He gleefully exploded from the house, tore off down the road to look for adventures and leaped through the screened-in-porch to follow a feral cat.
After this exuberant adolescence ended he became a sweet dog. True to his name he was always right behind one of us, trailing us into the bathroom, the car, the boat, ready for whatever attention we chose to indulge him with.
He was the official newborn chick babysitter, alerting us if they had escaped their bathroom enclosure, while also welcoming any kitten or dog who came to stay with us. He was my grandson's chosen companion for sleepovers, climbing up onto his bed and snuggling all night.

He started to become ill last year, enduring frequent eye and ear infections, then a systemic infection affecting his skin. The vet diagnosed him with a tumor on his kidney about a month ago. Yesterday we put him to sleep.

He was not "my dog" although in times of stress chose me to lean his body on. I regret that his last year was so full of those times.

He was my husband's only "child" but he chose not to come with me yesterday. Instead, my oldest daughter, who is in school training to become a vet tech, came. She held Shadow's head and murmured lovey words to him while I stroked his back.

Several hours after he had been buried, I took our other dog, Winnie, outside. She found the grave and sniffed the air, then searched and sniffed some more, looking for her "brother". She looked confused and needed lots of "head scratchies" to calm down.

I hate that I had to put Shadow down without his "father" with him. I hate that I had to put him down at all. It is an awesome responsibility to bear; and, despite the peaceful transition from life to death, a wholly terrible thing to witness.

Plenty of Perimenopausal Pissiness

2010-05-27T05:37:00.002-04:00

It has finally hit me- the hormonal space I am currently inhabiting makes me feel like a teenager- the worst parts of being a teenager. All the turmoil and angst minus the perky breasts and dewy skin. I don't know how anyone can stand me for I am most assuredly sick of myself.

I have missed two consecutive periods. I am not a candidate for HRT due to my family history and my insistence upon continuing to smoke. I was a lunatic on the pill so that gives me pause as well.

Today, if all the stars are aligned I am going to load up on soy- in food, drink and vitamin supplies. I am hoping this helps.

I canceled a trip to Syracuse; disappointing and angering my daughters, missing Robin's birthday and company. Aside from financial issues worrying me, I woke Wednesday morning at 1 AM with an overwhelming sense of dread and foreboding; all signs telling me to stay home. So, I listened and am left weepy and cranky.

The ability to "bounce back" from anything, even minor annoyances, has deserted me- miss a couple hours of sleep, find mistakes in bank account, count the days my husband has left a full cup of coffee on the table ( 3 thus far)... I am undone.

God help me.

Small town

2010-05-22T05:15:00.005-04:00

Yesterday a young man from the island died after a car accident last weekend. In the days following the accident the town went into action; fundraisers began, and a Facebook page gained over 2000 members; nearly half the year round population. Businesses put out donation buckets for travel expenses and hospital bills. A scholarship fund was started within hours of his death and memorial bracelets ordered.

This is not unusual here- what happens to one happens to all. The message is clear- you are not alone. Your problem can be as mundane as a flat tire or as sorrowful as the loss of a child, but someone will be there to help you.

The beach is not the only reason I live here; the strong community support is what keeps me loving this place. We don't have museums, fine restaurants or culture within easy reach; but there are real people here who remember how to love their neighbor. In a time when people lament the electronic age and the loss of face to face communication, the human touch is still alive and well on a pocket sized island.

What it is

2010-05-20T07:18:00.002-04:00

Last night I told my husband the following: You can drink, or be sober. I prefer that you don't lie to me, so I will no longer comment, praise, harangue or ask about your recovery. I will not move out of my house and live out of bags waiting for you to get it together. I don't know how I feel about you or our life together so I am living my own. I have no idea what kind of marriage that leaves us with but that is all I can figure out for today.

Pickin'

2010-05-16T21:03:00.004-04:00

Three times a week, four couples come to the gym to work out. They have all been married
over 40 years- to the same person.

I can see, in all of them, what they must have seen in each other physically to attract them; a pair of baby blue eyes, a quirky smile, a saucy hip...I see that they still love each other- really love, not just a habit gone on too long to discard.
How did they do it? How did they choose so well, and stay through everything for decades? What did they see, and do and KNOW that made it work?

I keep thinking of Meredith Baxter-Birney saying she thought she must simply be " a bad picker." I almost wish I could say, I've chosen so poorly because I discovered I was a lesbian. But, nope, I'm just a bad-picker. Give me a barrel of apples and I'll unerringly choose the bad one- either the wrong for who I am, or one with a whole lot of worms.

There must be a secret that someone never told me ( and a lot of other people too, judging from the divorce rate). Or, I've ignored who I am for a very long time- a person fundamentally unfit for marriage. If I'd been born hundreds of years ago, I might have been one of those Irish nuns who lived on the peat bogs in a hut. Instead, I'm here, on my tiny island, menopausal, bereft and wondering what happens next.

Sneaky

2010-05-16T11:01:00.004-04:00

While working on the room that was to become my studio last week, I found an empty beer can. Since the room had been in disarray for quite some time, I dismissed it as an old one.

Today, I found another one. This one could not have been from the past- I only moved that box in there a few days ago and it was empty. In retrospect, I had noticed that my husband has been in the back room quite bit; not doing anything.

I am sick. Sick with anger, worry, betrayal and despair. My returning home was contingent on his remaining sober. On the cessation of lies.

Just did some more looking through my art stuff- filled with beer cans. Called him and he lied and lied and finally admitted he's been drinking again. I asked him to find another place to stay tonight and he refuses.

wow

2010-05-11T07:54:00.003-04:00

Today is the 4th anniversary of this blog. It's a good thing I can accept change. I may not always do so gracefully but I can usually summon up at least a grudging acceptance, and know, that like a good book, life usually serves up something interesting.

.. and the Purple Crayon

2010-05-03T06:08:00.004-04:00

I took my grandson to the beach on Friday where, despite the rather chilly water temperatures, he got into the ocean up to his belly button in his jeans, and swam.
When we arrived at my house, I threw his clothes along with some of my overdue laundry, into the washer and dryer. Upon removing it from the dryer, I noticed a distinct purple tint to the clothing.

I asked him if he may have left something in his pocket... well, yes, he may have .....

There is a little girl in his class who is rather annoying. She follows my grandson and his friend around constantly and bugs them. She loves the color purple. Soooo, he carries a purple crayon in his pocket. When she approaches them, he offers her the crayon in exchange for leaving them alone. Clever boy.

Once upon a time

2010-04-29T08:20:00.003-04:00

I "had it all" once upon a time- a big beautiful house, a cleaning person, a golden retriever, a Volvo, 3 beautiful daughters and a successful husband. Money to spend on lovely things, vacations, clothing, exquisite meals, work I loved and friends close by

Time taught me that most of that list did not matter. I really only miss the privacy and time money can buy, especially today. I want to stay home and struggle with the poem I've 1/2 written instead of doing what is required of me. I want to sit with Robin in a sunny, green spot and laugh and cry and share our work and woes and pleasures.

Instead I must hang the clean curtains, dust the bookshelves and fold the laundry. I have a client to see with a new NF treatment to learn, 2 hours of volunteer time at the library and a child to see this evening.

I am now insane

2010-04-28T14:27:00.004-04:00

The title of this post should be nailed to my door and worn on a sign around my neck for a week to 10 days every month.

Why? Because I am in-between. In between getting my period and stopping it forever. And I am out of my freaking mind.

It is an impossible thing to tell most people, such as my employer, or my clients: "Um, Hi? I won't be around for a few days because I am so exhausted that I am a danger to myself and others, can't stop peeing, my mind is racing with so many bizarre and extraneous thoughts that I am incapable of performing any task, no matter how simple. And oh, yes, I may cry for no discernible reason or kill you without warning."

My husband has figured it out. He leaves bars of dark chocolate around the house for when I creep out bed, hair in disarray wearing clothing that would certainly win me a spot on "What Not To Wear" or "Creature From the Black Lagoon."
He walks quietly up the stairs to check on me, approaching only if I make some kind of sound, usually a grunty grumbly one. Then and only then will he come closer, offering to get me something (ANYTHING) that might make me feel better; raw cookie dough, potato chips, soup, a pink kayak from LL Bean, morphine, a hysterectomy.....
He puts up with losing and gaining the blankets, my opening and closing the window and getting dressed and undressed several times a night with only the occasional complaint which he certainly does not voice during the bad times.

During this time I may tear the house apart in some strange form of nesting, cocoon myself in bed under 7 blankets, write furiously, cry in the bathtub, gaze into the mirror wondering who the hell that person looking back at me is, talk too much, cut my hair, turn off my phone and generally ponder how I became so much of a nutcase.

Every month I pray two prayers; that I will get my period, to end the horrific PMS and that I won't so I don't feel this way anymore. I have only just let myself acknowledge the meaning of the end of this though, both the things I will gain, and what will be gone. And writing about that subject is too much for me today.

Sin, sin, sin

2010-04-27T10:14:00.003-04:00

Today I am guilty of one ( at least) of the seven deadly sins; Envy. I am not longing to be fabulously wealthy, possess otherworldly beauty or be capable of writing words that make the soul soar.

I simply want to sleep; so today, anyone capable of sleeping 8 - 9 hours, naturally or with the help of pharmaceuticals, engenders envy, jealousy and a dash of anger in me. I am lusting for sleep like a sailor on land for the first time in a month lusts for a woman. And like him, I would pay for it.

2010-04-25T06:56:00.003-04:00

I have always jokingly called my husband a hoarder. He has been known to spy something I have thrown into the trash and retrieve it. ( I know now, to bring those bags directly to the recycling center.)

When we moved into this house, we had our grandson with us and set up the house fairly quickly, using the ample storage provided by the shed to stow a lot of stuff. Yet somehow, as stuff seems to do, it crept into the house and multiplied. And there are only 2 small closets.

Over the past 18 months as things went downhill for us, the mass of mess and junk spiraled out of control, overwhelming me, yet ignored by my husband.

Yesterday we dove in, and even I, who claim to be unsentimental about "things" found items that had no more place in my heart. Admittedly I laughed, cooed and cried over christening dresses, drawings made by my babies, notes people sent when my mother died, old essays I wrote and pictures of people now gone.

I culled. I did this for a few reasons-

We don't have the room
I recently saw the third floor of my father's house filled with boxes of his and my grandmother's and do not want to leave that kind of burden for my children
A friend told me a rule about what to keep, " You may keep it if you know it to be useful and you feel it to be beautiful."

My husband gently let me know that I was not the last word on what was to be considered useful or beautiful...darn.

ah love

2010-04-24T09:59:00.000-04:00

Molly Bloom's soliloquy

"…I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."

James Joyce

Gifts

2010-04-23T06:15:00.003-04:00

Whenever I ask anyone in my husband's family to tell me about him as a child, their response is always, "He has a good heart."

While they remain a family in denial regarding his alcoholism, I must admit, they are right
about his heart. It is huge.

Let me tell you about some of the greatest gifts he has given me over the years.

Beginning his recovery and being sober for almost 2 months
Sprinkling my bathtub with rose petals and lavender after a bad day
Filling a box with clean, white sand, placing a heating pad in it, decorating it with sea shells, with a sun lamp overhead and handing me a mojito during a long cold winter
When I was in a bad spell of depression many years ago and would not leave my bed,
he picked me up, carried me to the car and took me on a boat ride
He took me on a vacation, which he bartered working for, and gave me a little gift every day
He sets up my coffee pot each night, with a note to tell me it's all ready to go, that says "Make me hot"
He finds 4 leaf clovers almost every day, and leaves them for me next to my coffee cup or computer

He loves my grandson and my daughters as wholly as if they were his own flesh and blood

I needed to remind myself of these things.

This Old House

2010-04-22T09:37:00.002-04:00

My preference has always been for older homes. Three times I have lived in beige boxes known as apartments, with no charm, no quirks or foibles. And certainly no dirt dating from the 19th century. While I was able to make them my own, I missed the feeling of history, of other lives lived within the space.

My love affair with the old may be over. While we do not own the house we are living in, the landlord is amenable to our changing some things to make it our own. However there are repairs that are too big, and not our responsibility- such as the fact that the addition put on some time during the Eisenhower regime is falling off, causing the house, from the kitchen back, to slope.
Probably about a 60 degree angle.

No project is simple because of the layers of pseudo-repairs and patchwork that has been done, a half-ass job on most of them. A seemingly simple job becomes an overwhelming task.

Underneath the sink is where I find myself stuck today. My pots and pans were disorganized and I wanted to replace the nasty contact paper. I bit off more than I was prepared to chew.
The paper seems to have been put down with cement and REEKS of cat urine. Therefore, upon pulling most of it off, and punching myself in the lip in the process, I found the puzzle pieces of wood under that to also have a pungent odor. In order to thoroughly complete the job, the entire sink unit and cabinet would have to be taken apart. Not gonna happen.

What to do? I soaked and scrubbed it with hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and a pet odor remover. After that, I plan to use Oxy-Clean, then follow that with bleach and a paint job.

My cookware is piled all over the kitchen and will also be disinfected, just in case.... While I yearn for all to be in order these days in particular, I am being reminded that things take time, and require work, sometimes more than was anticipated.

Patience

2010-04-14T05:57:00.004-04:00

Having an excess of patience is something I have been proud of. I could never have worked with children had I not possessed that virtue. Unfortunately I seem to only have it at work, leaving none for my home life.

Recently a friend suggested I read the chapter in "The Big Book" for wives of alcoholics, warning me that it was written in the 1930's and thus would need some translation. While I found a modicum of comfort in a few lines I was disturbed to learn I would need a double dose of patience.
And perhaps a new way of thinking that I cannot seem to accomplish. I clearly do not "get" addiction. You ruin your life engaging in a certain behavior so you STOP engaging in that particular behavior, right? AND you are GLAD you stopped. Not so when you are an addict.

Since I have not been in the shoes my husband is wearing, I have no idea what he is feeling now, physically or emotionally. He is walking in the slow lane and I am ready for him to pick up the pace. I am practicing my breathing.

Busier than a body has a right to be

2010-04-07T05:32:00.002-04:00

I am swamped. I have more hours at my "regular" job, 4 nights a week I am seeing children, and seeing clients in my newest venture.

I have been receiving neurofeedback therapy as a bonus while training and now, providing bio and neurofeedback treatments to clients. It has been a wonderful learning experience and has deleted migraines and early morning awakening from my life... Until a few days ago. I have not had a chance to receive a treatment for myself in weeks, and now know the effects wear off.

I would be rushing off to get a session IF I was not rushing to prepare for a trip to Buffalo. One of my aunts died and my sister and I are traveling to NY together for the memorial service.
She was one of seven children, my father's sister. And oh what a lovely woman she was. I remember listening to Cousin Brucie on AM radio and watching as she and her sister got ready for work when I was little. I thought they were the coolest girls I ever met. They remain two of the kindest people I will ever know.

I am leaving with some trepidation; my house is not in the state I would like it to be yet, and it feels premature to leave my husband alone.

But I will finally, nearly a week after its opening, drive over the new bridge and causeway. When I return, it will be to another sad event- Shadow, our 11 year old black lab has a large tumor on his kidney and has to be put down. My husband needed some time to digest this and since Shadow is not overtly suffering we agreed to another 2 weeks.

Somewhere in there, I will stop to take a breath.

Getting our house in order

2010-04-04T07:56:00.002-04:00

Metaphorically and literally, we are attempting to get our house in order. Yes, I wrote "we".

On Wednesday I moved back into the house with my husband. Seven weeks away brought me peace, healing and time to think.
I was planning on coming home with no expectations but my imagination betrayed me. I had hired someone to come in and help my husband clean so we had a fresh start; I thought that without the mess and mire we could more easily negotiate a fragile new beginning. The person I hired only showed up one day, and it was hard to see what, if anything, had been accomplished.
And so reality, and near-filth hit me square in the face. In addition, I immediately had to bring our older dog to the vet where I found out he has a large tumor on his kidney.
Alas, I did not handle all this gracefully. I am thankful that a wise friend gave me good advice- "do two things a day." Ah! That I could handle.
Crossing whichever two chores I assigned myself freed me to continue with another project or simply stop.
We are melding an old love with new behaviors, new rules; uncharted territory with an untested crew. As of today, we are still afloat.

Spring

2010-03-10T07:09:00.002-05:00

The daffodils are coming up, the birds are singing Spring songs and looking for the perfect place to build their nests.
I am also looking for the best place to nest for the season. I have been perching in various places for nearly a month now and need to light somewhere. Currently I am house sitting for 3 weeks and have a temporary place after that. Get this; it is above a book store. I have access to all the books I can read as long as I return them to the correct spot. I can alphabetize so that should not be a problem.
It will provide a place for me to stretch out for a bit; in addition to providing me with a lesson on living with a person I am not related or married to. I will be sharing the space with the owner of the bookstore. Finding a place of my own is the ultimate goal but fate keeps putting these situatins in my path so it feels as though there is something I am supposed to learn.

Rest

2010-02-11T06:40:00.002-05:00

I am convalescing. I am staying at the second home of a friend; enjoying the silence and the space.
When I was in elementary school our music teacher Mrs. Henry taught us about reading music using hand gestures. The one I have been thinking about is REST- made with hands open and arms outstretched.
That is the space I am in- the time between the notes.

Snow and its attendant woes

2010-02-01T06:26:00.003-05:00

Each winter when I lived in the snow belt I thought, I will not survive this winter. It was more than pleasant to leave that fear behind when I moved to the island. The last two winters have been very mild with a dusting here and there that quickly melted.

This winter we have had two snowstorms. This weekend I experienced Post-Traumatic- Snow-Disorder. As everyone here (unaccustomed to snow) searched high and low for sleds and traded recipes for snow cream, I felt that fear again. Walking down the stairs and glimpsing the field with its white blanket, I shuddered and thought, "I cannot live through this".

In Syracuse, the streets are prepped before a snow, and cleared continually. There is no silence; the clang and clatter of the plows and the salt trucks keep it at bay. There is one plow here. It took 24 hours after the snow fell for it to make its way down my street. I suspect they don't know how to use the plow attachement as all they did was scatter sand on top of the snowy streets.

Despite the freeze imminent from melting snow and falling temperatures there was no pro-active sanding or salting. Instead, the announcement that schools were closed came early Sunday afternoon. ( The banks announced their closing a day before the snow even arrived)

I want it to go away. I feel trapped and cold and afraid. My husband asked if I wanted to go outside and make snow angels. I told him that when I died, he could take my corpse out to the field and move my limbs around until he got a snow angel.

Missing

2010-01-28T05:58:00.002-05:00

I have been missing. My children, family and friends are wondering where I've been. I've been wondering too. When I do have time to talk to people, I am usually sleeping.

I've been setting up various appointments for my husband and working as much as I can in order to be out the house. It's not really what I need or want, but I have no escape from him otherwise. I have not been alone in my own house since perhaps the end of August. That is excruciating for me.

Today, usually the lightest day in my schedule will begin by running in to work to do a bit of paperwork, an ENT appointment for my husband and then an hours drive to get him an MRI. If we are back in time, I will go to my volunteer time at the library, then I have a child to see at 5.
I am thankful that all 4 of the referrals ordered by the primary care doctor will happen this week; that means we will information very quickly to help us decide the next steps. But I need a break, time to absorb all that this means.

I feel like I need a week to go somewhere and cry and scream and mourn all that is now missing and presumed lost. Perhaps then I could return with a modicum of grace, and maybe even love. I am very angry, at him and myself. Myself, because I let this go too long; my husband because he has done this to himself. In reviewing his medical records, I discovered I had made a mistake- he does not have cerebral atrophy, but cerebellar atrophy. And while the former can have many causes, including a genetic component, the latter is caused by alcohol abuse. The doctor asked me if I believed in the disease model of addiction. I told her NO. She said that research indicated that the brains of addicts are different to begin with, even before abuse of their drug of choice. I am not sure how that research was done, it sounds fishy to me.
Maybe Monday I can get to an Al-Anon meeting and see if it helps but I have a hard time accepting the whole "powerless over alcohol" belief. Nobody FORCES you to go the store, pay for beer and go home and drink it...and drink it and drink it to the exclusion of all else.

In the meantime, I have asked my husband to vacate the premises for just two hours either Sunday or Monday when I am off. Since he has not been working in at least two weeks, and the only places open on the island in January are the bars and the beach he may have to reach a little to find something to do. He has isolated himself so completely that he has not one friend here. Just me. And me is tired.

Denial

2010-01-24T07:31:00.002-05:00

Definition

Denial is the refusal to acknowledge the existence or severity of unpleasant external realities or internal thoughts and feelings.

Sounds nice, doesn't it? It might be if both of us were dwelling there.

I was feeling very optimistic for a few hours last week after talking with my husband. I forgot that we cannot stay in the same place in our heads.

I realize that he is struggling, and very frightened. I don't know how to make that better.

His denial is so strong, and so wrapped in the lies that he tells to himself and everyone, that it is sometimes more than I can bear.
I don't want to count his pills, his beers or his lies and risk becoming an enabler, a harridan. I don't want to disappear into his diseases, or continually caress my losses, counting them like rosary beads.

Questions

2010-01-21T06:47:00.002-05:00

If I believe, as I say I do, that there are some things we are not supposed to understand, then I must accept that there is something I am meant to experience or learn from the issues with my husband.

I put a deposit down on a little apartment. Following my trip to NY, I was told that it was not a safe place for me to live. I went over and got most of my money back, even though I was afraid.
But I had already told my husband what I had done.

I also told him why, and how heartbreaking it is for me to watch him disappear. He was quiet, but did finally admit that he knew that he was experiencing symptoms of the cerebral atrophy and the drinking, and had also not been taking his anti-depressant. He said it was too hard to talk about. He has cut down on the drinking but not agreed to, or discussed, going to AA or the doctor. Seeing a doctor and stopping the drinking are the terms I insisted upon in order for me to stay.

Yesterday, after a disturbing round of behavior as we ran errands, I realized that even if he is successful in his attempts to stop drinking, he is irrevocably ill. He hadn't had anything to drink yet, but his gait is awkward, and the level of his disinhibition has increased. He appeared drunk, not brain damaged as I know he is.

To my shame, I was embarrassed, and have to wonder if this is a piece of my desire to leave.

I know what will happen to him if I do- he will drink more, and the house will slide into squalor until he is evicted. It is also quite likely that he will, in the near future, be unable to work any longer. He will eat even less, and far worse, than he is now, and become even more ill.

It is truly now a case of "for better or worse, in sickness and in health". I cannot help but feel the sun on my soul the day we were married, and remember how happy we were.
I cannot even say that the next step is up to him because his ability to make decisions is so impaired.

2009

2009-12-29T11:32:00.003-05:00

2009 has been both better and worse than I'd imagined and I am more than ready for it to be over. To me it will be remembered as The Year of the Rains, the year the beach was destroyed, the year green mold grew on everyone's houses and cars.

The island remains sodden, some houses still looking as though they were built in the middle of lakes. It has been a year of decay and destruction.
That can be a good thing, as it forces one to rethink before rebuilding, to reassess the contents of the toolbox, reexamine the blueprints, to think carefully about what is necessary.

The powers that be at the refuge are trying to figure out how to regain the parking lots so tourism can start again in the spring, the town is working on drainage issues and the old swing bridge will be undergoing demolition in January.

I am ready to dry out, move on, up and out, but am going with caution, patience and care.

Trust

2009-12-23T15:50:00.003-05:00

I don't know that anyone ever taught me the skills required to learn to trust myself, and to value what I know to be right for me.

A few weeks ago, when things were looking very grim, I got a call from the school district, offering me a full-time position at an elementary school off the island. I was pleased with the offer but my immediate and unequivocal response was, "Thank you for thinking of me, but no."

Then panic set it. How could I say no when I needed the money & security? It was a job I could do with my eyes closed. But there were many reasons to decline. I called Robin and double checked myself. She let me know I was not insane, at least not regarding that particular decision.

The still, small voice inside me said, "Wait." I listened.
I waited.

In a seemingly random meeting, a new world has opened up for me. I get to stay on the island, and stretch my brain learning to be a neuro-feedback technician That meeting also led to two referrals to work with children with special needs and to some tutoring work.

For many years, my body and soul screamed that I was meant to be here. I've felt at home here since my first visit almost 20 years ago. Then events seemed to be telling me that I could not find viable, pertinent work for myself and should perhaps go home to New York. The idea made me ill; it felt like an amputation.

I have to listen again to myself and make sure I leave time for ME and still partake of the gifts the universe has laid at my feet.

I am giving thanks - to the universe, to God as I perceive him/her, to my friends, family and my refuge. I feel well and truly blessed.

A Haven of Hermits

2009-12-03T05:00:00.004-05:00

I have mentioned before that I am the product of two hermits. It is not a bad thing to be when you live on an island with a year round population of about 3-4000 people. When I began hanging around on Facebook, my profile picture was a T-shirt I bought that stated, "When I grow up I want to be a hermit". My sister told me that "hermits don't join Facebook". Although she is very smart, in this instance she was wrong. What better way to get a small dose of people, entirely under your control, where you don't actually have to see anyone ( or get any germs)?

But, even hermits, or at least those like me, at times seek like-minded individuals . I have a small group of friends who, at any given time, don't leave their homes for days, ignore a ringing telephone and pretend they don't hear the knock at the door.

I have decided to call us A Haven of Hermits in the same vein as A Murder of Crows or, as in the name of my art blog, An Exultation of Larks.

Well, the Haven convened last week and land sakes, (gosh, that is a great thing to say!) did we have fun! We actually met two nights in a row, perhaps setting a world record for hermit behavior. Naturally we will not be seeking recognition for this.

The first night we met at a local bar and talked quietly about Edna St. Vincent Millay, Pablo Neruda, books and music. It was a mellow, warm and loving respite in a semi-raucous environment.
Much to our surprise, we got together again the following evening.

We had a lovely rock fish dinner with a decent red wine and played charades. Yes, charades. We were not good at it. We simply could NOT adhere to the "no talking" rule. Ironic, huh?
Lest you think we are simply not very smart, YOU try to act out The Girl from Ipanema.
The hysterical giggling was just what I needed; what we all needed, and enjoy small bites of from time to time.

Those small bites sustain us; we don't have big appetites. They are an amuse bouche, and they are filling.

My refuge

2009-12-01T07:30:00.005-05:00

I have not been to the beach all month. That may account for some of the torpor I've been experiencing. Why, when it is less than 5 miles from my driveway to sand between my toes?
Because the Nor'easter we had a couple of weeks ago caused an enormous amount of damage, and the rain keeps coming, disrupting my plans to go out there and see what is left.
I can go here, to see what is going on.

But seeing it first hand is frightening me. Today appears to be the only day this week there will not be rain; so do I stay or do I go?

Well, I went. And despite the loss of the parking lot, it is still my refuge... it still acts as my muse. Even 1/2 hour there with the sun pouring down, and the snow geese screaming renews me.

A semi-book review

2009-11-22T18:07:00.006-05:00

I eagerly await new books written about families coping with autism. I am fortunate enough to share boxes and more boxes of uncorrected proofs with my daughter who is friends with the owner of a bookstore.

I found Cowboy and Wills among the last haul. This is not the book to read to find out what to do when your child is diagnosed with autism. The subtitle, A Love Story, tells the truth; Wills is a charming, bright young boy who develops a lovely relationship with his golden retriever.

I have seen the struggles, despair and desperation families undergo following a diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder in their child, so I am always reluctant to criticize decisions that are not what I would have chosen. I have not had to choose; I have not had to wade through an ocean of conflicting information, fight with a school district or change my entire life around to accommodate scores of therapists in my home. I have helped families to do that but it is most emphatically not the same thing.

I am a proponent of the scientific method and have used Applied Behavior Analysis with the children with whom I have worked for over 20 years. Some families can do this, and some cannot. It is probably among the more difficult therapies one can choose.

One of the best books written in the last two decades is Let me Hear Your Voice by Catherine Maurice describing her search for treatment for her children.

Read them both, whether you have a child or family member on the spectrum or not.

If you are a parent of a child with autism, do your research; go to the websites regarding your particular state laws about special education, visit families using a variety of therapies, get a support system in place, go online and learn about the therapies available, and do not be afraid to demand what is your due from your school district. A dear friend and colleague of mine tells families, "Ask for the moon, and if you are lucky you will land on the roof." Do NOT settle for the little bit they say you are entitled to under the law- they NEVER tell the truth about how much more you can get. And remember, early intervention is the key.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

2009-11-19T06:19:00.001-05:00

"Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide

Edna St. Vincent Millay

huh

2009-11-18T12:04:00.003-05:00

In an irony reminiscent of one of my first jobs (aside from babysitting) where I worked at a ski shop fitting skis and boots when I had never been skiing in my life, I now work at a fitness center, and I don't really work out. I say not really but actually, I don't aside from yoga.
I keep meaning too, I truly do, but I don't. I am afraid of the treadmill. It is one of my goals to overcome that fear.

And another thing... I have been plagued by this idea; did someone just fantasize about mad, deep, powerful and lasting love, then write about it and now we all believe in it, and expect it OR is it real and I am really bad at it or have not found the real thing? Given the state of things around here, and experiencing divorce myself it isn't surprising that I am leaning toward the latter.

At the fitness center, several long-married couples come in together to work out. Some have been married for 40 -50 years and it is obvious they are still in love. And in like, as well. Mind you, there are some where the tension is thick and wide, but for the most part I see and feel love, respect and enjoyment of one another. Some days it makes me weepy. I'm trying to change from being depressed by it. Right now, that's a bit hard for me.

Grounded.

2009-11-17T12:57:00.004-05:00

We talked more than is customary today in my yoga class. Everyone was feeling the stress of the Nor' Easter we experienced last week. Although much of the water has receded, and the clean up is well under way, there was a lot of lingering stress.

One woman was alone, and afraid. Others were dealing with the smell and mess of marsh water and mud in their yards and homes. Some found the winds the most frightening aspect of the storm.
The class managed to combine the benefits yoga provides for stress relief with the companionship and support of caring people.

That is one of the most important parts of the group for me. That, and sitting on the floor- being grounded. Since I stopped working with children, I rarely sit on the floor or the ground. It is crucial, at least to me, for well-being. It anchors me, it the best sense of the word. It connects me to the earth in the same way sitting on the beach does; and it is going to be some time before I can get back to the beach. Parts of the refuge will be open this afternoon, but for some time to come, access will be limited. Yoga twice a week will have to suffice for now.

Bittersweet

2009-10-27T09:37:00.004-04:00

The fall is here. So is my seasonal nostalgia.

Somebody, somewhere said the word, bittersweet, and I remembered going out with my mother and her clippers; cutting this plant and decorating the house and the front door.
She loved bittersweet but always told me it was illegal to cut. Is this true? I'm not sure because she also told me it was illegal to drive barefoot.

We don't have bittersweet here on the island. Our soil, if it can be called that with the high amount of sand in it, is different than that which I grew up with too. Here, when I dig I find shells. At home, my hands came out of the garden sparkling with flakes of mica.

It is rainy here today and thinking and remembering, curled up in blankets is the order of the day.

Addiction

2009-10-25T07:07:00.003-04:00

I have neither sympathy nor empathy for addicts of any kind. Unpopular as that opinion may be since the advent of the belief system that addiction is a disease, I cannot change my mind.

Growing up I was surrounded by alcoholics, raised by children of alcoholics and watched many family members become addicts of some type or another. Even my own daughter.

Underlying the addiction of most people is a mental illness. That is the disease that causes self-medication by drugs or alcohol.

When you see yourself losing everything; jobs, family, friends, respect and you still indulge your "disease" you are making a choice. A choice not to attend to yourself or your health. A choice to live in denial of the effect you are having on those who love you.

I KNOW I have every risk factor for becoming an addict; I have a family history, depression and anxiety and every time I take a pain pill for a migraine or dental work and like it just a little too much, I am careful. Because my life and my family and my friends mean too much to me to ruin it all. Oh, I can see how it easy it would be to sink into that comfortable, foggy feeling and I don't. My daughter, whom I thought I had lost, has turned her life into something lovely. And she and I are no better or smarter or stronger than anyone else.
We simply choose life, with all its beauty and pain and struggles.

You can probably tell that I am angry. I am. I am furious that someone I love is choosing a substance over life. Angry that a case of beer is more important than food in the house, love in the house, life in the house. And I am sad that sometimes love just isn't enough.

Space

2009-10-22T06:08:00.002-04:00

I am not talking about the final frontier. I am speaking of mental space. I have some.
It pleases me.

I must have missed something

2009-09-28T08:59:00.003-04:00

The other day I headed out to the bank; drove right up to where the drive-up ATM is, and IT'S GONE! POOF!
So, I drive back around the parking lot to the drive-up window and see a new ATM, in front of the bank. One where you must get out of your car and walk-up.
" Oh, I guess we will have two now. They must be getting ready to put in a new drive-up one as well."
When I get to the window with a real live person, I ask. And the answer is no, they are NOT installing a new drive-up ATM.
We are going back in time here folks. I did a quick check in the mirror to see if I, too, had gone back in time and was only 27. Nope.
The teller was unable to give me a reason behind the decision. That made me more angry. I cannot let this go; it is becoming an obsession. What were they thinking? How can this possibly enhance my banking experience? Now, I can up the odds of being robbed! I can get wet, and cold! I'll bet my banking fees will go up now to pay for this new inconvenience.
Woo hoo!

I know what's on Santa's list

2009-09-18T10:29:00.003-04:00

One of the most charming qualities of living here is that people will talk to you anywhere and tell you stories.
While waiting at the bus stop for the boy yesterday, a man pulled up in a truck with his little Jack Russell terrier sniffing out of the window.
"I grew up in this neighborhood, right over in that house. There used to be a chicken house there, and one over there. And there was a general store too, right on that corner. They bootlegged out of it. And see that gray house down the end of the street?"
He pointed down the lane at my daughter's house.
"There was a lady bootlegger lived there; Miss Flossie Watson was her name. She used to bury money in her yard. Y'all should get a metal detector and look around. Yeah, it used to be right wild around here at night. "

I laughed- the street we were standing on is Serenity Lane.

think before you speak, and listen

2009-08-23T10:49:00.001-04:00

August

2009-08-20T06:33:00.003-04:00

Today my mother would have had her 68th birthday.
Eleven years ago, in December she died of malignant melanoma.
I still find these markers of time passing difficult.

I miss her particularly this August as my youngest leaves for college
on the 28th. I've been excited for her and never expected to be hit with
the intense feeling of loss I have been experiencing.

I believe I am mourning what she has missed. 8 grandchildren, 3 of whom turn 18 this year and 1 beautiful great-grandchild. She is missing my oldest doing well at work, going back to school and advancing in a career and falling truly in love with a very nice young man; my middle also going back to college after working for two years and deciding what she wants to do.

All the babies she snuggled and loved growing up. And the babies she never got to see.

Tell me why

2009-08-19T07:21:00.002-04:00

Why does anyone have carpeting in their bathroom? In our case, we rent and it was there when we got here. As there is no, none , zilch, zero insulation in the house, I am assuming it was placed there for warmth in the winter.

I don't like wall-to-wall carpeting at all. Even if I did not have dogs whose hair sticks like glue to it, I wouldn't like it. To me, it is a magnet for germs and dirt and microscopic nastiness. Especially in the bathroom.

I have been suffering some kind of headache/ mold allergy/ stomach issue for the last few days. After a particularly spectacular bout of vomiting, all I wanted to do was pass out briefly on the floor. You know that beautifully cool feeling of your head on the tile? Not available to me.

I hate to step on the damn floor, even after thorough vacuuming. No way in hell was I putting my face anywhere near it. I had to settle for a cool washcloth.

Ha!

2009-08-18T09:19:00.003-04:00

My grandson came into the house like a berserker yesterday, flailing and yelling.
I asked what was wrong.

"SHE ( his mother) HUMILIATED ME! "

"What happened?"

"In front of like, 20 GIRLS she humiliated me, because I had ice cream on my face!"

"Well, you have two choices, try not to care about what other people think or eat more neatly. And hey, Grandpa is out in the chicken coop."

More Proof That Exercise is Bad For You

2009-08-04T09:42:00.004-04:00

Before I left the house this morning for my walk, I sprayed myself with poison to keep the mosquitoes away.
Poison is bad for you.
The poison did not keep said bugs away
The back of both of my legs had 4 bloodsuckers on them, making me look like an odd sort of collector
Mosquitoes carry diseases
They bit me
I will now contract West Nile or something like that and die

Accepting

2009-07-29T05:09:00.003-04:00

I don't ask for help when I need it and tend to refuse it when offered. Isolation is my normal "cure" when I feel askew. It doesn't really help, just gives me a break.

A talented, funny, lovely friend of mine has been having a hard time lately. He asked if he could use my laundry facilities and if I would help him list something on eBay.

It made me feel good to be able to help him, but what he gave me is more than that. He knows my bad times as well as if they were his own. He listened to me, we listened to music we both love and he puttered around my house and yard attending to things that have been plaguing me.

He jump started me. I hope the universe heaps blessings on him.

Bookmark

2009-07-20T10:10:00.002-04:00

Words belonging to Jeanette Winterson from Lighthousekeeping:

I'll call you, and we'll light a fire, and drink some
wine, and recognise each other in the place that is ours.
Don't wait. Don't tell the story later.

Life is short. This stretch of sea and sand, this walk
on the shore, before the tide covers everything we have
done.
I love you.
The three most difficult words in the world.
But what else can I say?

Summer eating

2009-07-17T09:34:00.005-04:00

This is Thai Beef Salad- one of my all time favorite meals. My husband made it for me as the nearest Thai restaurant is about 2 hours away. I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.

I think he made it for me to take my mind off his burgeoning "list" of things I have for him to do.
Bear in mind, the list is not written in stone, actually it is not written in pencil or pen, or even chalk. It's in his head. I don't entirely trust his head because sometimes he'll say ,"You didn't ask me to do that." And I cannot then pull the list triumphantly from wherever we would keep it if was indeed written down and say, "Aha! yes I did!!".

Fighting food with food, I've cooked 3 fabulous meals IN A ROW for him. He did not have to shop, cook or clean up. I found socks on the lower level of the coffee table this morning. He thinks this is where they belong apparently. Today, I am making a real list for him, and we are having leftover jamboree.

Find the word

2009-07-14T09:09:00.003-04:00

that describes me this morning. I can find far too many- livid, confused, furious, disappointed....

I have been let down. First by my dogs, who bark if a leaf blows in the yard but failed to alert me to whomever came into my yard last night and stole my bike.

Then there is you, the foul soul who decided it was fun, cool, ok or whatever adjective fits best, to take something that belongs to someone else.

And your parents who apparently did not raise you right. A pox on them.

I feel sorry for you and not just because you have a stinking, loathsome personality. But because if I see you with my rusty, old broken-down blue and white beach cruiser you will find out what it means to piss off a woman who is struggling with an ocean load of anger, "the change of life" and feeling old and fat and only wanted to take a little ride this morning to alleviate the guilt from eating too much macaroni and cheese last night.

You are so lucky I don't have a gun.

Mockingbird

2009-07-10T20:29:00.004-04:00

Living in a southern town, and coming from just about the "Yankee-est" place in the world (New York) I often feel as though I don't speak the same language as the natives.

In fact it is only recently I learned that when someone bestows upon you the sweet sounding phrase, "Bless your heart" they actually are saying," F@#* you and your mother".

After 4 days of complete deafness in my right ear, I went to the doctor instead of plunging an ice pick into my head. As always, I had the book I'm currently reading and loving, ( A Sudden Country-Karin Fisher) my notebook and a pretty pen. As I did not have an appointment, I knew I'd have to wait a bit.

I read and people watched. I enjoyed a conversation between two older 'Teaguers. They were remarking on the unseasonably cool weather allowing open windows throughout the house. The gentleman noted that he felt less isolated from the world when he could feel the breeze and hear the birds.
"My favorite is the mocking bird" he said. " They say he's imitating the other birds. I think he
just knows all the tunes."

Later, although thanks to my book, I didn't know how much later, the nurse asked if I was waiting for someone. I bristled inside and told her I was waiting for the doctor.
"Did you give someone your name?"
I swallowed and answered, "Yes, I came in at two", glanced at my phone and noticed it was 3:30. I felt myself getting angry although, when I thought about it, I'd had no plans for the day and hey, I was reading. I told her not to worry about it, I had my book.

I was brought back immediately and hugged by the receptionist who apologized profusely. In fact everyone expressed their dismay at their oversight.

If I had been "home" I would given vent to my anger at my wasted time.

And oh, I'm so glad I didn't. I'm learning the tunes, folks and soon I'll be singing along.

"Bless your heart."

Winnie

2009-07-08T07:01:00.004-04:00

It should come as no surprise that in addition to the myriad mental health problems rampant in my family that my dogs would have some issues of their own. Take Winnie for example.

She is a hypochondriac. If anyone else in the house has a boo-boo, she pretends to have one too; even going so far as to fake a limp or simply whine and look as miserable as possible.

Every summer she picks a spot to lick at and lick at and lick at. There is nothing actually wrong at the site of the tongue-lashing until of course she spends every waking moment bathing it.

This morning after panting and whining enough to wake me at 5 AM, she is now sporting a gorgeous hot pink vet wrap bandage. And limping. But secretly quite pleased with herself and the attention.

She also gets as close as caninely possible whenever she sees a camera.

Undone

2009-07-06T08:33:00.003-04:00

I have always found that what should be the easiest concepts to understand, are difficult for me. I am undone by the ordinary. Love, death, the growth of my children all leave me scratching my head and thinking I missed a vital lesson in comprehension.

I find it astounding that my littlest child is a beautiful nearly 18 year old heading to college. I've seen the progression of course, but this incarnation of her is a wonder.

Come on in! The water's...

2009-07-02T07:13:00.002-04:00

Warm! Really warm! As I sank blissfully into what I consider my true element yesterday I had a thought. ( Yes, only one, but divided into two parts)
" With all the rain we've been having, and how early it is in the season, the water seems awfully warm... "

I looked around at all the people on the beach. Looked at the beautifully equipped porta-potties- not a lot of business there.

"What if the water is warm because each and every one of those people had peed, even only once, in the ocean today?

" Have you checked the chickens?"

2009-06-30T08:11:00.004-04:00

We are in the middle of an oddity that may yield a positive outcome. Apparently, at 3 AM my husband was woken up by the screaming of terrified, annoyed or possibly gleeful poultry.
When he went outside to investigate, all the lights in the shed were on.

This is could be evidence of God answering prayers, an intruder or highly intelligent chickens.

After I moved all of my art supplies out to what was supposed to be my studio, my husband set to work to install better lighting and safer outlets. Nothing worked- he concluded that the electrical line had been cut. That was the end of that. During the summer he has little time for home projects. Therefore I have been unable to work on any art, because dragging all the crap back in was an unappealing prospect.

I have trouble understanding electricity and believe that, like the ocean, it can be your friend but you must respect it. As much as I would like to get myself out there with a couple of fans and get to work, I worry. What if I hit the switch and get fried? What if someone is living out there and forgot to turn out the lights?

Worse, what if it doesn't work?

What's going on

2009-06-29T09:51:00.004-04:00

I am waiting. Waiting for my sister to let me know if she is leaving NY and bringing me my youngest child today. Do I go "big-shopping" today or wait?

I am pondering a mini-redecoration. I bathed one of the stinky dogs this weekend but my couch, oh my couch.... I am thinking of hauling it outside, maybe setting it on fire. Since the canines look as though they will be here for awhile, I don't want to buy a new one and seethe while they ruin it with drool and stench and hair. I may get out a base for a futon and make a day bed kind of arrangement. That way I can change the covering when it gets yucky. My husband thinks it needs some kind of arms so he doesn't fall off. He is just going to have to learn to balance.

My grand experiment? Not bad actually. Surprisingly cigarettes and coffee have been the easiest for me to cut down. Trying to eat mindfully is harder. I no longer read while I eat- I have to pay close attention. When I had acute Lyme Disease several years ago I minimized carbs in my diet. It is harder to do now. I am trying... I have more energy but that is a double edged sword- I am having trouble sleeping and aching from the increase in activity. I can live with that. Headaches, the bane of my existence have not been a problem the last few days and so no Tylenol, Motrin, etc. I have been swimming and dancing.
My mood is good and consistent. I can't remember the last time that happened.

"Cat", the animal dumped here last fall has probably lost another one of his lives. Earlier in the week he was limping. By the next day his front leg was HUGE. We gave him "aspirin water" and kept him quiet. Saturday night his bed was covered with a watery bloody tinged fluid and the leg was almost back to normal. We think he was stung or snake-bit.

The chickens are doing well and every morning I thank them for their eggs. The babies are getting bigger and soon will leave their "playpen" and join the others.

That's that.

Lust

2009-06-26T08:08:00.004-04:00

Like Rapunzel's mother, I am gazing longingly into my neighbor's yard. It's not a vegetable in her garden; it's a hydrangea. The people who own the house come down sporadically and would probably not miss one blossom, and I am fairly certain that no witches live there. I doubt they would want any of my almost grown girls but they do like my grandson.

One for luck

2009-06-24T08:10:00.010-04:00

My husband brought this inside for me this morning as I drank my coffee. He has a knack for finding them. I am going to need all the luck this little baby can bring me. I am trying something new.

I have been on and off antidepressants since I was 24. With rare exceptions of brief and lovely periods of time, I have remained depressed. The last 6 months have been horrific. Over the weekend I considered ECT and suicide. Just try to schedule a good time to kill yourself- there is always something coming up that would make it a bad time- children's programs at the library, youngest child leaving for college, nephew's birthday party. You see? No good time.

And ECT? Still a rather frightening prospect.

So here's what I decided (after speaking to my husband so he would understand what is going on)- I am detoxing from everything. I am cutting down caffeine, cigarettes, OTC medications and Effexor. I am increasing my water intake, changing my diet and planning to get back on my bike and in the kayak. And of course, get into the water.

The side effects of the Effexor are terrible and exacerbate physical symptoms I already have. Going off of it is worse. I feel like a heroin addict going through withdrawals.

"The lightening flashes through my skull; mine eyeballs ache and ache;
my whole beaten brain seems as beheaded, and rolling on some stunning ground."
- Herman Melville

Yup, that's what it is like.

We will both be watching carefully to ensure that I don't slip under too far. I need to be able to discern actual physical issues from side effects and taking the meds doesn't allow for that.
If the problems I have been experiencing, aside from the depression, are still present after a few weeks of detox, I will get myself up to DC or NY to see a doctor.

Am I crazy, or stupid? Maybe. But why continue to take medications that do not work? It seems as self abusive as the other things I am trying to combat like not taking care of myself. In addition to the changes mentioned above, I am once again working on setting limits with people who drain me. That will be the most difficult task.

I have some good things going on and I would like to enjoy them and use them to inspire me to continue doing what I love; writing and creating art. I have done none of that in far too long. I recently had a poem chosen as an Editor's Choice in the Allen Ginsberg Poetry contest and a collaborative project featured in Somerset Studio magazine.

It has been 6 days so far....

If you come here...

2009-06-23T07:00:00.002-04:00

Recently Chincoteague was mentioned in Travel and Leisure magazine. That upsets me. There are enough people here already. But if you feel you must visit let me give you some tips:

Please, if you rent bikes with your children, do NOT ride in front of them. I see this all the time, and it is dangerous. You should be able to see them.
When you go to the beach do not watch your children from your towel in between peeks at the latest beach book. There are dangerous rip tides and the waves can knock your child down in an instant. Stand next to them in the water even if it is cold.
Do not feed the seagulls on the beach. This makes people want to kill you and your ill mannered children.
Stores and businesses here have their own schedule- don't believe what's posted on the door. We don't care if you are mad. We have to shop and go to the post office too.
Don't stop your car on the causeway and take pictures. It is a dangerous roadway, and they are just seagulls.
Most restaurants, even the McDonald's, are closed by 9 PM. Plan ahead if you want to eat.
There is a private beach, but locals lie to tourists about where it is.
People smoke here. Get over it.
We will hate you if you announce that you are from NY and think that will get you better service. (And I am from NY.) I've seen people barred from an eating establishment because of this.
Do not base your decision to move here on your summer vacation. The winter is a different story altogether. It has a scary ending.

I wonder

2009-06-12T09:41:00.004-04:00

Is it possible for a man with no discernible body fat to live with a woman in perimenopause?

I turn the air conditioning on in the bedroom- he turns it off in the middle of the night and I wake up soaking wet and smelling like cat litter. I go downstairs, open doors and turn on the ceiling fan and wake up in a sauna. ( Electricity = $$- makes me think of my parents saying, " Do you think we own Con Edison????")

What's a woman to do? A couple of nights ago I slept with ice packs on my head and stomach.
(a real ice pack, NOT frozen chicken necks...) He has been sleeping with flannel pajamas and 3 blankets, a cat and two dogs...

So far my only solution has been to stay up naked all night, wait until he goes to work, crank the air conditioning and sleep all day.

Sleep

2009-06-10T00:07:00.004-04:00

Working the 3-11 shift at the hospital was a blessing and a curse. It enabled me to have the day with my daughter, taking her to pre-school and dance lessons. If my husband, in residency at that time, had an overnight shift, she had to go to a babysitter. I was fortunate to find a woman who had been a foster mother for many years and was willing to keep her overnight, bringing her back to my house in the morning after they cleaned the stables and fed her horses. Getting up at 6 after working until 11 and driving the frightening 18 miles home on dark and frozen Route 81 was difficult.

I had heard about melatonin and thought it might be a good idea to try it, as it took me quite a long time to wind down after work. I wasn't sure how long it took or how sleepy I would become. All people said was that it was like eating a Thanksgiving dinner.

I decided I would take the melatonin on the way home. I popped the capsule in my mouth and reached for my juice. Where was it? I checked the floor. The capsule began to melt. I tried to summon up some saliva as I reached behind the front seat, scrabbling as far as I could reach and still keep the car on the road. What the hell was going on? As long as I can remember I have always had liquid within reach, from my nightstand at bedtime to so many half finished bottles of juice, water or soda in my car I made music when I went around a corner.

Nighttime, dark road, no stores for at least 10 miles and a capsule melting in my mouth releasing a foul tasting, dry powder. I began to cough, choke and gag. Next, I cried. None of which helped. I tried to spit into a wad of tissues. My eyes began to water.

I found a spot to pull over hoping nobody would hit me and turned on the interior light. Not a bottle in sight. I sighed dryly as I crawled over to the passenger side, opened the door and stepped out of the car. Reaching as far over the guardrail as I could, I scooped up a handful of snow, prayed it was clean and shoved it in.

I couldn't sleep that night wondering what I had put in my mouth.

Shut your eyes

2009-06-09T00:33:00.004-04:00

At a very tender age, I discovered there was much in the way of reality that I did not want to look straight in the face.

For reasons I still do not know, my parent's very good friend was among the first bit of reality I attempted to "disappear". Whenever he came near me I blinked furiously and averted my head. This was unsuccessful and apparently a signal for grown-ups to move ever closer in order to make you like them. I am told I did this to a lot of people.

Books were an option as I grew older- I brought ( and still do) books everywhere I went but I could still hear my mother call me. Books usuallywork. But today, at the park, in my car, with my iPod ear buds (I HATE that word) in and my nose in a book, a woman I know very superficially began to talk to me and didn't stop. I am fairly certain she was still talking as a I threw my grandson in the car and burned rubber out of the parking lot.

During orientation for work at a state psych hospital a bird flew into the classroom. This was at the height of my bird hatred/ phobia. I froze. I closed my eyes hoping to become invisible to the bird and still seem somewhat calm and normal enough to be getting this job. The bird swooped. OVER MY HEAD. I covered my head with my hands, crouched and sort of crab walked/ran my way out of the room into the safety of the bathroom. I hoped the class would be over, and I could stroll out to the parking lot, drive away and tell my husband the state had instituted an immediate hiring freeze. No such luck; a tentative knock on the door, followed by the words, "Are you alright?" told me the jig was up. It was the instructor. Why does the floor never open up and devour you when you need it?

Well, they gave me the job anyway, on the geriatric unit, where on my first day, I had to follow the charge nurse. I was doing great; none of the patients disturbed me in any way thanks to growing up in a family of my own nut-cases. I had written some killer intake notes and felt confident that I could handle the unit with ease. The next stop on our rounds was a man with a trach that needed suctioning. I allowed my eyes to look at everything but the tube and the container with the sputum, smegma and effluvia but I could not escape the slurping, sucking sound. I felt the blood drain out of my head and knew that passing out was imminent. I managed once again to escape to the bathroom, this time with a tad more grace. I splashed water on my wrists, neck and face. Still faint. I sat on the toilet. No better. So I did the tried and true remedy for faintness and lay myself down on what was probably one of the more germ-ridden floors in the universe and prayed. I prayed that when I opened the door, as I knew I would have to, that I would be in my OWN bathroom with a considerably cleaner floor and less of an audience awaiting me. It didn't work, and they never fired me, even after I snuck bleach in to clean doorknobs and light switches.

Damn you reality. You are always there, my constant and unwelcome companion. I have yet to find a way to "disappear" you.

The 6 year old poet writes again

2009-06-04T09:25:00.002-04:00

The grass is still
The ant sits in the shade
as a flower petal drops

I think my grandson is a genius...

3...2...1

2009-05-20T08:33:00.003-04:00

I wanna be a lifeguard

2009-05-19T16:06:00.003-04:00

and the chicks just keep on coming...

2009-05-18T11:52:00.009-04:00

Yes, more chicks. 10 in fact, bought yesterday afternoon from a friend; 2 Cochins ( may be mixed with Auracana) and 8 Rhode Island Reds.

There was a catch, as there always seems to be around here. We had to agree to take a 6 year old rooster who was being relentlessly bullied by his offspring. They beat him up and peed or pooped on him so he had to be kept away from them, thus resulting in a depressed rooster. Oh, and we have to trim one of his spurs, too.
He already has 3 names- Butterscotch, Butterstick and plain old Butter. The girls (Nellie and Mud) have accepted him after some initial annoyance on Mud's part. We have been told he doesn't crow and so far have heard nothing out of him. Isn't he pretty?

Bringing coals to Newcastle

2009-05-11T14:18:00.004-04:00

Dear Husband,

Yesterday
you brought home
a basket of shells.

May I remind you,
we live at the beach.

Regardless of the
fact that they only cost
a dollar, and were the last ones
in the store.

We can get them for free
just by bending.

The song remains the same

2009-05-11T07:41:00.003-04:00

Three years later and I am still here, albeit sporadically. I started this journal talking about change. At this point it is all still about change, because that is the nature of life, I suppose.

I am brooding about different questions now. Like how to do the right things with the right mind and understanding that there is a wide gap between resignation and acceptance.

Inherent in the changes that have taken place is the blessing of having time to even think about those issues. For that I am grateful.

retreat

2009-05-10T21:24:00.001-04:00

Wednesday Confessions #1

2009-05-06T08:01:00.003-04:00

I cannot reseal "resealable" bags
I love Marcello Mastroianni
I mountains of laundry waited to be folded and put away
I loathe abbreviations
I have never used a lawnmower ( or "grass cutter" as they are known by here)
I never go anywhere without a book, pen and paper
I am not always the best me I could be, and I can live with that, most of the time
I would rather be reading or swimming
My hair is a fright
I am good at fooling myself

Mistaken

2009-05-05T10:04:00.004-04:00

I suspect that now I must live until I am 96, if indeed I am in mid-life. If that thought does not give one pause, I don't know what will. It appears to me that I have about 1/2 way figured stuff out, but I have found quite a few errors in my previous beliefs.

Somehow, I was sure that once your children were gone, your house would stay clean without any intervention on your part. I guess I believe this because my grandmother's house was spotless. I realize now that my aunts cleaned it for her. Note to self- get your daughters over here.

At one time, I was certain that I would have myself figured out by 25 at the latest. Sadly, I was mistaken. This year looks to be the one where I realize what I've been doing all my life and why. And it isn't pretty. ( This is really tiring too, especially when added to the hormonal onslaught.)

I thought I would be done "mothering". Now that was just stupid.

I never believed in "don't put off till tomorrow, what you can do today". Now that has cost me, many times over. I told a friend this morning, if I had shot myself in the foot literally, instead of metaphorically, I wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Sometimes there have been reasons, other times, excuses, but either way, it usually turns out to be bad idea. Do it NOW!!!

Oh, there's more, it is just too embarrassing to share.

So basically I know little to nothing. I am not sure if that is wisdom or something less flattering.

Swimming

2009-05-04T10:28:00.003-04:00

I now have a brand new paint job in our bedroom that makes me feel like I am swimming. I only wish the sun was shining so I could see it a different light...Oh, and that someone else would put the room all back together. But it's just me here with some lazy animals that barely move out of my way as I sweep, grab comforters to wash and move furniture.

I keep giving myself little reward breaks, probably far too frequently. The windows need to be scraped as my husband did not tape them before he painted....and that does not seem like a fun job on a rainy, dull day....My goal is to make sure we have a place to sleep tonight. Last night I slept at my daughter's and Michael slept at home in the grandbaby's tiny twin bed.

So why I am here on the computer? I am also swimming in a sleepy fog. The neighbors next to my daughter's house drew 3 police cars to their house at 1:45 this morning which set off a chain reaction of barking dogs and wakeful children. Their fighting has become a nightly occurrence.
I hope this is turning point for them.

Look how far we've come

2009-05-02T09:29:00.003-04:00

Just a little over a year and a half ago, I was filing for custody of my grandson. Mother's Day will mark the year anniversary of my daughter moving here to attempt to start her life over, sober and sane.

As they say here, "Dang!"... Dang indeed. She has far exceeded my, at the time, admittedly low, expectations.

I always told her she was strong, that she would be a wonderful adult, and despite the delays in that process, I was right. She is highly respected and admired at her job, working through the throes and joys of raising a child, and we can spend time together without it ending in tears.

I am slowly weaning my child after 26 years; she doesn't always like it but how lovely it is to see her rise above her own expectations!~

Migraine Relief Eastern Shore Style

2009-05-01T07:47:00.003-04:00

During the last migraine I had, I performed the usual routine : took the medicine, covered my ears and eyes and prayed for it to go away. In between the whispered prayers, I gained the attention of my husband and asked for an ice pack.
"Umm, we don't have any."
"We always have ice packs, where did they all go?"
"They're in the car."
"Why? "
" I used them last time I went fishing and forgot to bring them in."
"Crap".
"Wait! I 've got some frozen crab bait!". ( translation: chicken necks too foul for any other use)

So, husband wraps the "ice pack" in a towel and I place it on my head. The dogs are curiously attentive to me. I'd like to tell you that they were simply being sympathetic- but that would be a lie.

weekend update

2009-04-27T08:12:00.003-04:00

Finally we have had some glorious weather, and my husband has realized that I am solar-powered. I pray that translates into next winter being spent in a tropical locale or at least an investment in some full-spectrum light bulbs.

I was thisclose to ridding my household of the damn cat, but the almost unsuspecting neighbors asked if he sprayed, and I could not force the lie out of my mouth. I said, "YES, he does and I've got the comfy chair in the trash to prove it." I loathe that animal and he knows it. Hence the desecration of my chair.

My dogs, the other odious, or odoriferous, tenants in my home, seem to be developing dogszheimers. They bark continously, guarding me from bicyclists, flowers and wind.

Let me say now that up until 2 years ago I was a great lover of animals. I always had a stray or two I was finding homes for, acting as a foster-home for rescued greyhounds and a frequent visitor to the animal shelter. Today I am either buying some Rescue Remedy, Xanax ( I will share it with them) or some anti-freeze. I cannot force the issue with my husband using the old, "It's me or the ____" because I don't want to camp on the beach.

PS- I have a sunburn...and I'm glad.

A thought on a stormy night

2009-04-20T23:23:00.004-04:00

For the last 20 years or more, many of the books to which I gravitated were stories of woman challenging themselves. Some like May Sarton endeavored lives of solitude. More frequently I read tales of woman, also alone, but challenging the strength and endurance of their bodies.

I know I have tested my mind, my soul, my heart. I have made and met challenges regarding my poetry and art. In nearly 48 years I have never tested my body. It always seemed a shell, housing the things I truly cared about.

This year, I finally feel that I have begun to grow old. I can see it in my face, feel it in my joints and muscles. It has been an exceedingly stressful year. I've been dealing my with daughter's recovery, rebuilding our relationship, coping with the depression of both myself and my husband and the very real possibility that his brain may be degenerating in ways I had not imagined.

I may grow old without ever pushing my body to it's limits. In the last 40 something years, I've run track, rock-climbed, kayaked, put people in strait-jackets, held the doors to padded time-out rooms while someone raged within, been attacked my some of my clients, caught a TV thrown at me, been bitten, slapped, had my hair pulled and my cornea poked. All in a days work...

It may be something I need to do, to connect my body with my soul.. Lately the most dangerous thing I've done is type this entry during a lightening storm. Maybe I need to accept the fact that is not who I am. After all, I have never even mowed a lawn in my life, am aftaid to fill the itires on my car or light a barbecue.

If I don't do something soon, will I ever? And wil I regret the lack?

Welcome to Grey Gardens

2009-04-20T10:15:00.005-04:00

The name of our house is Island Fever. For now.

This past week, the grandbaby was gone; to DC for the White House Egg Roll, various other attractions and a trip to NY. I planned the week down to the tiniest task. I was embarking on my annual Spring Cleaning Binge.

It didn't happen; partially due to the weather; I mean how can you Spring Clean in torrential rain?
Some headaches interrupted, and running errands with my daughter took up some more time.

One night I watched the movie Grey Gardens- the story of two relatives of the Bouvier family and how their lives dissipated into squalor. My house is beginning to look a little bit like theirs, although I am sure it smells better since I have only one cat and no raccons.

More rain and wind is coming.....

I always make the house look worse when I begin this binge but it is hanging about longer than usual. I think I may start behaving in a more eccentric manner and hope I can get away with living this way until the sun shines again and I can open windows. Otherwise look for me in the news....doing a soft shoe.....

I am not always depressing and negative

2009-04-06T08:47:00.002-04:00

Here are some things I love about living here aside from the beach-

My librarian reserves books for me she thinks I would like ( she is always right!)
A book store owner on the shore sends my daughter and I unpublished books to read and review ( boxes of them!)
oh crap, I can't think of anything else, I'm in a bad mood

What's up?

2009-04-04T08:35:00.003-04:00

I have spent several days over the last two weeks in my favorite classroom, the Pre-K class. It is so nice to be done at 3:30 and still have time to run errands and relax. Plus it is so close to home, "commuting" does not describe it. I do have to watch out for the daily duck traffic and the occasional guinea hen flock, but it is an easy experience. I am not scheduled again until the 2oth but I am hoping for some more work there.

2009 so far

2009-03-31T06:50:00.004-04:00

March was a disappointment for me. I had such high hopes for warmer weather, brighter skies and a sunnier disposition.

It wasn't all bad; Grandbaby turned 6 on Sunday, my oldest spent a week in Cancun and survived and I taught her puppy to stop biting feet.

In fact as awful as the first quarter of 2009 has been, I have still managed to write 42 poems. I have worked several days subbing in the Pre-K room this month which is always fun, and have some more scheduled for April.

The beach is now open until 8pm, the construction on the library is moving along and it looks wonderful!

So now, I am holding my breath for April and waiting for Spring to truly arrive.

Fears

2009-03-20T08:22:00.003-04:00

I am afraid of two things; crickets and fire. Every year we get a horror movie like invasion of crickets and the only saving grace is that the chickens love to eat them. I enjoy the massacre.

Fire, however I can't laugh about. Yesterday afternoon, up in NY where two of my girls live with their father, there was a fire in their house. The two girls were home. It was lucky they were, otherwise the whole house may have been devoured. Nobody was hurt but the entire third floor is gone. The youngest lost all her writing and the middle her sketch book. They cared much less about the computer, TV, etc.

After I spoke to them, assessed their tone and knew they were alright, I thanked God repeatedly. I still am. Then I began to obsess over what could have been. That's not an unfamiliar feeling if you have children who are almost grown-up. There are so many events you cannot control.

30 years

2009-03-17T06:38:00.003-04:00

See that girl with the long blond hair on the right? That's me at my high school graduation almost 30 years ago. That means what? Yes, our high school reunion is taking place this year. Because of that, I find myself on Facebook talking to people I used to kind of know. Many of us had known each other since we were in diapers, or at least elementary school. It was a small class; less than 200 kids, but the largest one our school had in its history at the time.
I guess I am going, although I have no idea why. I did go to the 10th and 20th so perhaps it is in the interest of continuity.

Saturday

2009-03-16T08:54:00.003-04:00

The long awaited event has finally arrived. We got our first eggs from the two remaining chickens.
We knew that after the trauma of the dog attack laying might be delayed and indeed it was. The chickens are about 28 weeks old now and they can start laying at around 17 weeks.

Better living through chemicals

2009-03-05T05:07:00.003-05:00

I am working with my new psychiatrist to tweak my meds. I am certain that the hormonal whirling dervishes have been diminishing the efficacy of what I have been taking for so long. Husband is going back on meds too and that is making a difference in the happiness quotient around here. He still needs to visit the neurologist but we are working on that.

It's been a long, cold terrible winter; money is hard to come by here, as it is everywhere and worries can become overwhelming and paralyzing. Being warm and outside won't save the economy but I know it will make me feel better.

Taking Heart

2009-03-04T09:18:00.002-05:00

taking heart- If you love poetry this is a book you should have on your nightstand, in your purse, on the beach. Check it out. These poems are written by two friends who deserve your attention.

It's not all beaches and ponies

2009-02-24T09:29:00.002-05:00

Monday

2009-02-09T06:01:00.002-05:00

This week begins with a trip off the Eastern Shore. My daughter, grandbaby and I are spending the night with my sister. The boy has an appointment with a pediatric gastroenterologist. That is one other thing the shore does not have- easy access to specialists. In fact I have been waiting for over 10 days for a call back from a psychiatrist. I have called the office 2 times, and have been told the message was given to the doctor but the phone is not ringing.

Perhaps I should not have sounded calm, cool and collected with the receptionist.

I thought I would be the hermit

2009-01-30T15:13:00.005-05:00

You are the Hanged Man

Self-sacrifice, Sacrifice, Devotion, Bound.

With the Hanged man there is often a sense of fatalism, waiting for something to happen. Or a fear of
loss from a situation, rather than gain.

The Hanged Man is perhaps the most fascinating card in the deck. It reflects the story of Odin who offered himself as a sacrifice in order to gain knowledge. Hanging from the world tree, wounded by a spear, given no bread or mead, he hung for nine days. On the last day, he saw on the ground runes that had fallen from the tree, understood their meaning, and, coming down, scooped them up for his own. All knowledge is to be found in these runes.

The Hanged Man, in similar fashion, is a card about suspension, not life or death. It signifies selflessness, sacrifice and prophecy. You make yourself vulnerable and in doing so, gain illumination. You see the world differently, with almost mystical insights.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.