Last week my ex-husband died after a long disease. He was the father of my one and only child. She was an absolute champ throughout his illness, taking him to all appointments and researching all possible cures. He was going to tough it out alone because he didn't want to worry her, but she put her foot down, and he was glad she did. When he was in the ICU for many days before he went home to die, she sat by his beside and took such good care of him. And when I had my stroke, I was in the same hospital. I can't imagine her terror. I may have gone stark raving mad given similar circumstances. All this with a pandemic going on, and yes, there was a patient with COVID in the ICU while he was there.
The day after he died the family got together at my daughter's house to cook up one of his favorite meals: pork roll and tomato sandwiches and corn on the cob. Two family members flew in, two drove from California. I had not intended to go inside, but socialize and eat outside. No one followed my desire to do this, and one person kept putting her face five inches from mine even though I explained I was high risk and didn't want to get too close to anyone. She did it repeatedly and I didn't want to make a scene, so I would turn my head, or tilt my head away. Then I was invited inside to eat, where I sat shoulder to shoulder with this person. I did not advocate for myself. I'm still mad at myself for that. I ate, talked, and then hit the road. I had a terrible dream that night that I had caught the virus. In the dream I woke up with a throat on fire and a raging headache. When I did wake in the morning, I wondered if the sore throat had been real. Talk about messing with my mind!
Have I ever told you how much I now hate the 4th of July? For many years I have: the noisy fireworks that scare animals and people with PTSD, and the sheer hypocrisy of it all. Land of the free, my arse. "We" rid ourselves of our oppressors while simultaneously oppressing people we enslaved. Anyway, back to the wacko celebrations: seems like this year everyone was going nuts with their own personal fireworks. Most public venues canceled it weeks ago. So crazy and pent up people let it rip this year. I was on Facebook with friends across the country and it seemed to be the same insane situation everywhere. The great writer, journalist and intellectual Frederick Douglass gave one of his most famous speeches on July 5, 1852. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT YEARS AGO. Youtube has a stirring video of his g-g-g-g grandchildren reading excerpts of this speech. You can watch it here.
Meanwhile, back at the family gathering, the same person who was drinking too much, talking too loud, and getting much too close, began the favorite argument of uninformed white people by saying she was sick of all the protesting and didn't we know that, yes, ALL LIVES MATTER. She got plenty of gentle push back from others at the table. People were civil, but questioning her words. One way she seemed to come around was when I talked about women's oppression and how much marching and shouting had to be done to make any gains at all. She kind of backed down, saying, "I guess you have to walk in somebody's shoes to know what they are going through." Yes, dear, it's called empathy.
I'm thinking of posting this video on FB for her. Kinda says it all. So many white Americans would just like the problem to go away, not understanding that it won't go away until we stop making it a problem. It's always been us, white top dogs, who've kept this ugly system going, after all.
Hoping for a more upbeat post next time around. Bear with me. I'm still recovering!
Be safe. Wear your mask. And don't roll over like I did.
Showing posts with label Monday Musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Monday Musings. Show all posts
Monday, July 6, 2020
Monday, June 22, 2020
Father's Day
Yesterday I read a lot of tributes to fathers on Father's Day. People on FB also shared old family photos of their dad. So many have lost their fathers, and often times their mothers as well. I am a rarity at my age (63) in that both my parents are alive. They married young - and had three children by the time mom was 25. Imagine!
This guy in the photo with Dad is his oldest friend on earth. They've known each other since they were four years old. They had many adventures during their summers in high school, hitch hiking up and down the state of California doing odd jobs. Sometimes they got home by the skin of their teeth. It may surprise you to know they are polar opposites when it comes to politics. They don't often talk about it, but in private Max will tell me that one day we shall convert my father (wink). Max, like many of my dad's best friends, is a musician and artist, as was his father. My last night in North Carolina almost a decade ago, Max and his wife drove me to a friends house deep into the woods, for a jam with all the regulars. Banjos, guitars, fiddles and an upright bass -- these people drank and played old-timey music into the wee hours. A memorable evening. I was a hung over, bleary eyed passenger on the airplane the next day.
It's always been a wonder to me how my dad can be so conservative and rigid in behavior and appearance and have so many bohemian friends. He always has. It might stem from his Great Aunt, who was an out-loud bohemian and artist herself. He used to rock the chemical trays in her dark room on Orange Avenue in Coronado, California. She photographed celebrities who came to play on the beach and lounge by the pool at the historic Hotel Del Coronado back in the 1930s and 40s.
He took on a lot at a very young age -- marriage and children by the time he was 28. After a lifetime of living with a couple of step-fathers or his grandparents, he longed for stability. I don't remember him as a fun dad, he was a disciplinarian and mostly we children walked on eggshells around him. He regrets that now, and wishes he could have had a more relaxed relationship with us. He still has an extremely controlling nature, and things must go his way or things get very uncomfortable.
Until I moved to Colorado last year, I had spent the previous nine years living close to my parents (sometimes with them). It was difficult for me, I felt duty bound but also newly constricted after a lifetime of living on my own and not under his influence. It was out of economic necessity that I lived with them for two and a half years. We had many blowout arguments, which distressed my mother greatly. I went out for walks -- frequently. Only way to blow off steam. When I moved into my own place, we joked with each other that no one had died.
I'm sure that I, like so many adult children, have a very mixed view of my life with Dad. I love him dearly and sometimes I also hate his guts. He has been terribly hateful at times, and then he does something wonderfully loving. My husband also had a difficult relationship with his children, and they kept their distance as adults. It took me a couple of years after we married for me to fully understand how damaged those relationships were. This was their first Father's Day without their Pop. Just like my dad, Steve could be a lively and interesting friend, but he was very chilly when it came to his children. It's sad. His kids are great and his missed out on so much.
And this is how it is between fathers and their children.
This guy in the photo with Dad is his oldest friend on earth. They've known each other since they were four years old. They had many adventures during their summers in high school, hitch hiking up and down the state of California doing odd jobs. Sometimes they got home by the skin of their teeth. It may surprise you to know they are polar opposites when it comes to politics. They don't often talk about it, but in private Max will tell me that one day we shall convert my father (wink). Max, like many of my dad's best friends, is a musician and artist, as was his father. My last night in North Carolina almost a decade ago, Max and his wife drove me to a friends house deep into the woods, for a jam with all the regulars. Banjos, guitars, fiddles and an upright bass -- these people drank and played old-timey music into the wee hours. A memorable evening. I was a hung over, bleary eyed passenger on the airplane the next day.
It's always been a wonder to me how my dad can be so conservative and rigid in behavior and appearance and have so many bohemian friends. He always has. It might stem from his Great Aunt, who was an out-loud bohemian and artist herself. He used to rock the chemical trays in her dark room on Orange Avenue in Coronado, California. She photographed celebrities who came to play on the beach and lounge by the pool at the historic Hotel Del Coronado back in the 1930s and 40s.
He took on a lot at a very young age -- marriage and children by the time he was 28. After a lifetime of living with a couple of step-fathers or his grandparents, he longed for stability. I don't remember him as a fun dad, he was a disciplinarian and mostly we children walked on eggshells around him. He regrets that now, and wishes he could have had a more relaxed relationship with us. He still has an extremely controlling nature, and things must go his way or things get very uncomfortable.
Until I moved to Colorado last year, I had spent the previous nine years living close to my parents (sometimes with them). It was difficult for me, I felt duty bound but also newly constricted after a lifetime of living on my own and not under his influence. It was out of economic necessity that I lived with them for two and a half years. We had many blowout arguments, which distressed my mother greatly. I went out for walks -- frequently. Only way to blow off steam. When I moved into my own place, we joked with each other that no one had died.
I'm sure that I, like so many adult children, have a very mixed view of my life with Dad. I love him dearly and sometimes I also hate his guts. He has been terribly hateful at times, and then he does something wonderfully loving. My husband also had a difficult relationship with his children, and they kept their distance as adults. It took me a couple of years after we married for me to fully understand how damaged those relationships were. This was their first Father's Day without their Pop. Just like my dad, Steve could be a lively and interesting friend, but he was very chilly when it came to his children. It's sad. His kids are great and his missed out on so much.
And this is how it is between fathers and their children.
Monday, June 8, 2020
Little Joys
I took a walk the other day with my daughter. It was dreadfully hot but I wasn't going to let that deter me from some outdoor time with the lovely Laurel. We rested on a bench in the shade when the sun got to be too much for me. When the clouds blew in the temperature dropped and we left the bench to head home. We have very changeable weather here in Colorado.
On our way back we found several little displays like this one. Children having fun in the greenspace between houses. That's been very thoughtfully set up in our town, so there are plenty of hiking a biking spaces among the housing developments.
When I was a child I spent so many hours outside, either playing games or simply lying in a grassy field. We took expeditions to the creek, our lunches in sacks or tied up in bandanas. We were explorers. Those activities gave birth to back packing as a teenager. I was an enthusiastic back packer and spent many happy days with my friends in the Ventana Wilderness and trails in the Sierra.
When my first husband and I sent out our wedding invitations in 1978, we opted for our cover to be a black and white photo of us sitting at our campfire near Mt. Lassen in California. I wish I could find it to post here, but I cannot. He and I continued to back pack until I had our child at age 30. I think that was the end of back packing, though we still hiked and went camping with her.
I'm delighting in these little joys of remembering. Life is terribly restricted right now, and there is so much sorrow. Although I am impressed by the more than 10 days of peaceful but rightfully angry marches, I worry how many well meaning folks are going to get this virus. And of course I'm angry when the violence breaks out. Angry, but not surprised.
On our way back we found several little displays like this one. Children having fun in the greenspace between houses. That's been very thoughtfully set up in our town, so there are plenty of hiking a biking spaces among the housing developments.
When I was a child I spent so many hours outside, either playing games or simply lying in a grassy field. We took expeditions to the creek, our lunches in sacks or tied up in bandanas. We were explorers. Those activities gave birth to back packing as a teenager. I was an enthusiastic back packer and spent many happy days with my friends in the Ventana Wilderness and trails in the Sierra. |
| Leonard and me, Mt. Carmel 1975 |
When my first husband and I sent out our wedding invitations in 1978, we opted for our cover to be a black and white photo of us sitting at our campfire near Mt. Lassen in California. I wish I could find it to post here, but I cannot. He and I continued to back pack until I had our child at age 30. I think that was the end of back packing, though we still hiked and went camping with her.
I'm delighting in these little joys of remembering. Life is terribly restricted right now, and there is so much sorrow. Although I am impressed by the more than 10 days of peaceful but rightfully angry marches, I worry how many well meaning folks are going to get this virus. And of course I'm angry when the violence breaks out. Angry, but not surprised.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Harlem, by Langston Hughes
Hope you are finding some joy in your life these days. Be well!
Monday, May 18, 2020
Gifts
My sweet friend Toni Bernard just sent me the newly published pocket version of her book "How To Be Sick," along with another of her beautiful watercolors.
I think the book is valuable for anyone struggling with any kind of illness or hardship. This book is specific to illness (usually not diagnosed and/or dismissed by medical professionals) but her book "How to Wake Up" is a guide to living through joy and suffering. She's been a practicing Buddhist for over 20 years.
I have experienced a number of health challenges in my life, and any one of them could have led me into permanent despair. Somehow, I always rise. Maybe after a long while filled with doubt and self-pity, but I do either recover or learn how to organize my life in order to accommodate my body.
Right now the big challenge is how to adjust to this never ending stay at home situation. Like you, no doubt, I've experienced every emotion possible. Some days I just nap and nap and nap. The waves of dreams wash over me and I give in to them. Yesterday I emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the very messy kitchen and this was my big victory!
The things that sustain me now are the Colbert Show on CBS - smart, funny, sexy Stephen! The Sunday Morning show on CBS is one of the very best shows on television, with their mix of news, art, music and interviews with, say, Graham Nash (this weekend) and other notables. I've also become immersed in The Last Kingdom on Netflix, thanks to this blogger's suggestion. It's captivated me completely, though it is filled with barbaric gore and epic battle scenes from the ninth century. It is perfect escapism.
Our area is beginning to loosen restrictions, but I'm waiting to see if the numbers rise again before I abandoned the precautions set up. I'm comfortable enough at home, though antsy and many times bored. Oh. So. Bored. And so very physically tired because I'm too whatever to get much exercise. Ennui is a good descriptor.
Trying to be gentle with myself.
How about you?
I think the book is valuable for anyone struggling with any kind of illness or hardship. This book is specific to illness (usually not diagnosed and/or dismissed by medical professionals) but her book "How to Wake Up" is a guide to living through joy and suffering. She's been a practicing Buddhist for over 20 years.
I have experienced a number of health challenges in my life, and any one of them could have led me into permanent despair. Somehow, I always rise. Maybe after a long while filled with doubt and self-pity, but I do either recover or learn how to organize my life in order to accommodate my body.
Right now the big challenge is how to adjust to this never ending stay at home situation. Like you, no doubt, I've experienced every emotion possible. Some days I just nap and nap and nap. The waves of dreams wash over me and I give in to them. Yesterday I emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the very messy kitchen and this was my big victory!
The things that sustain me now are the Colbert Show on CBS - smart, funny, sexy Stephen! The Sunday Morning show on CBS is one of the very best shows on television, with their mix of news, art, music and interviews with, say, Graham Nash (this weekend) and other notables. I've also become immersed in The Last Kingdom on Netflix, thanks to this blogger's suggestion. It's captivated me completely, though it is filled with barbaric gore and epic battle scenes from the ninth century. It is perfect escapism.
Our area is beginning to loosen restrictions, but I'm waiting to see if the numbers rise again before I abandoned the precautions set up. I'm comfortable enough at home, though antsy and many times bored. Oh. So. Bored. And so very physically tired because I'm too whatever to get much exercise. Ennui is a good descriptor.
Trying to be gentle with myself.
How about you?
Monday, May 4, 2020
Blue Skies
I woke to a beautiful sunny morning today. Last evening we had such a magnificent thunder storm. I opened the blinds in my bedroom in order to look at the southern sky which was lighting up like the fourth of July. One of the strikes was so close that it rattled all the windows in the house! It was more exciting to watch the night sky than to fall asleep. I think I must have been awake for quite awhile, but I don't keep a clock in my bedroom so I have no idea.
We had a good storm the day before as well, in the mid-afternoon. When it all cleared up I saw this out my window:
I woke up yesterday feeling hopeful and physically well. I had more energy than I've had in weeks. I don't exactly know why, but it really doesn't matter, does it? I took Lucy out to one of our open nature reserves and we had a nice walk. I could tell she was joyous as well, as she scampered and leapt in the tall green grass.
Our stay at home orders have been lifted, but with restrictions. I'm more than fine with not going to shopping malls (yuck) and crowded movie theaters. I am going to continue to stay at home as much as possible, because I think, based on science and history, that we are going to see an up-tick in cases now that people are out and about. What about you? Are you staying home?
We had a good storm the day before as well, in the mid-afternoon. When it all cleared up I saw this out my window:
I woke up yesterday feeling hopeful and physically well. I had more energy than I've had in weeks. I don't exactly know why, but it really doesn't matter, does it? I took Lucy out to one of our open nature reserves and we had a nice walk. I could tell she was joyous as well, as she scampered and leapt in the tall green grass.
Our stay at home orders have been lifted, but with restrictions. I'm more than fine with not going to shopping malls (yuck) and crowded movie theaters. I am going to continue to stay at home as much as possible, because I think, based on science and history, that we are going to see an up-tick in cases now that people are out and about. What about you? Are you staying home?
Monday, April 20, 2020
Farewell Old Friend
We lost another good one yesterday. Dr. Ted Grant, O.C. was beloved by people the world over. I was lucky to meet him six years ago when he came to California to visit his friend, my husband. We traveled to Yosemite with him (he had never been) and he marveled at it all. Not very mobile then, he and I shared meals while Steve and our friend Bob took long hikes looking for that perfect shot.The saying on the back of his t-shirt here was something he said often. He was also known for the "salute" in which he raised his middle finger if he caught people taking his photograph. What is it about photographers not liking to be photographed?! Steve had this as well and would throw his hands up to block the shot.
Steve and I traveled to Ted's home in Victoria, BC a couple of years ago and had a wonderful visit. In the wind and rain we ventured to Butchart Gardens for a little walk around. The grounds were beautiful under the gray skies and the color seemed magnified by the rain. But poor Ted lost his legs at one point and I went back to the visitor center to get a wheelchair for him.
It was a year after that that his son moved him into an Assisted Living apartment. He seemed to like it just fine, and really needed the help. It was difficult to leave his home of decades and decades, the place he shared with his wife Irene. He had the best basement Man Cave -- it looked like a Bavarian Inn. Back behind his lair lay his darkroom, long abandoned. Like most of us, the world famous photographer abandoned film for digital.
I learned last week that Ted was under the care of hospice and so I knew his time could be very near. The last communication I had with him was in January to let him know that Steve was under Hospice care. He was sad indeed.
Yes, I knew his time was coming, and yet the news was a slap in the face. His friends from all over the globe are leaving tributes on his Facebook page. His loss is huge to so many. He was a great teacher and he loved photography more than words can say. Here is perhaps his most famous photo, taken in 1968. Trudeau's son, the current head of state, gave Ted the Order of Canada, Canada's highest civilian honor. What a beautiful full circle moment.
And so it goes, friends. So it goes.
Monday, April 13, 2020
Isolation Boogie
Yesterday on the CBS Sunday Morning television broadcast, Peter Turnley's photos of NYC in the time of COVID-19 were shown. This is the man I did a week long workshop with in Cuba in 2015. Over his long career he has been at nearly every conflict zone and war around the world. These photographs are simply beautiful.
The show yesterday also highlighted some of the people we've lost to COVID-19. I began to cry, and no wonder.
It snowed yesterday on Easter, and I had my breakfast with my family via Facetime. We ordered from the same restaurant, and my daughter and I howled out loud when we discovered we ordered the same eggs benedict dish -- lox, pickled red onion, capers on top of potato latkes! And we both thought the same thing when selecting from the menu: I'll cover both Passover and Easter is one tasty dish! The grand kids were being their usual selves -- grand son playing with a plastic puzzle toy while picking at his French toast, and grand daughter smothering her blueberry pancakes with too much syrup and then putting her sticky hands all over her mama. The meal ended with mom and dad announcing it was time for a mimosa (a strong one, said dad) and to settle down on the couch with the crew to watch a Star Wars movie. It's been a thing they do during quarantine -- watching them all, in order.
Last year at this time, Steve and I were near Strasbourgh, France, enjoying Easter vacation with our friends in the village of La Petite Pierre. Family came over, I was in charge of hiding the eggs in the garden, and Alice and Philippe made a gourmet dinner with all things French. It was a lovely, lovely time. We had gone to a nearby goat farm the day before to pick up cheese, and it was the most delicious goat cheese I've ever had -- much of it coated with fresh herbs from the area. So many great and good memories of our time there.
How much has changed in a year.
I lazily contemplate, from my isolation, what the next year might bring. We are all wondering that now. I'm going on 2 months of isolation and probably looking at another month in the best case scenario. I'm acutely aware that my circumstances are much better than many others: I have a steady pension and health insurance from my university job, so I am not going to experience any financial changes. Most folks can't say that. So I thank my lucky stars, and attend to the things that I can do around the house. There's always cooking and cleaning the kitchen. With music playing, usually. Laundry is a must. Clean, fresh clothes and sheets lift my spirit these days.
I am inspired by the stories from people on how they are living through this time. Especially folks with children -- it's a real extra bit of anxiety and complexity keeping children entertained, focused, and working on their schoolwork from home. My hat's off to them all. My grand children can run around their large backyard, but I wonder what kids in apartments are doing? Hopefully going outside where it's not too dangerous. You cannot be a child and not go outside.
Hope you are doing as well as can be expected. Keep on doing the things that make you happy and feel whole.
The show yesterday also highlighted some of the people we've lost to COVID-19. I began to cry, and no wonder.
It snowed yesterday on Easter, and I had my breakfast with my family via Facetime. We ordered from the same restaurant, and my daughter and I howled out loud when we discovered we ordered the same eggs benedict dish -- lox, pickled red onion, capers on top of potato latkes! And we both thought the same thing when selecting from the menu: I'll cover both Passover and Easter is one tasty dish! The grand kids were being their usual selves -- grand son playing with a plastic puzzle toy while picking at his French toast, and grand daughter smothering her blueberry pancakes with too much syrup and then putting her sticky hands all over her mama. The meal ended with mom and dad announcing it was time for a mimosa (a strong one, said dad) and to settle down on the couch with the crew to watch a Star Wars movie. It's been a thing they do during quarantine -- watching them all, in order.
Last year at this time, Steve and I were near Strasbourgh, France, enjoying Easter vacation with our friends in the village of La Petite Pierre. Family came over, I was in charge of hiding the eggs in the garden, and Alice and Philippe made a gourmet dinner with all things French. It was a lovely, lovely time. We had gone to a nearby goat farm the day before to pick up cheese, and it was the most delicious goat cheese I've ever had -- much of it coated with fresh herbs from the area. So many great and good memories of our time there.
How much has changed in a year.
I lazily contemplate, from my isolation, what the next year might bring. We are all wondering that now. I'm going on 2 months of isolation and probably looking at another month in the best case scenario. I'm acutely aware that my circumstances are much better than many others: I have a steady pension and health insurance from my university job, so I am not going to experience any financial changes. Most folks can't say that. So I thank my lucky stars, and attend to the things that I can do around the house. There's always cooking and cleaning the kitchen. With music playing, usually. Laundry is a must. Clean, fresh clothes and sheets lift my spirit these days.
I am inspired by the stories from people on how they are living through this time. Especially folks with children -- it's a real extra bit of anxiety and complexity keeping children entertained, focused, and working on their schoolwork from home. My hat's off to them all. My grand children can run around their large backyard, but I wonder what kids in apartments are doing? Hopefully going outside where it's not too dangerous. You cannot be a child and not go outside.
Hope you are doing as well as can be expected. Keep on doing the things that make you happy and feel whole.
Monday, April 6, 2020
Do What Ya Wanna Do
I'm so glad 'experts' are now telling us that we don't have to be productive while stuck at home. At first, people were dreaming of projects long put off, organizing their closets and cleaning out their spice cupboards. I still have the desire to clean the floor in my garage, caked with winter dirt tracked in by the car. The floor is a beautiful resin (I think) covering, so will be easily washable. I guess the former owner felt it important to go above and beyond the standard concert floor. Buckets of warm soapy water and a good stiff broom should take care of it. When I decide to get around to it.
I did vacuum all but the two bedrooms yesterday, but only because my body desperately needed to move. But damn, the place looks good now. Today I might tackle the two bedrooms. It's been awhile.
Mostly, however, I'm taking it easy: a daily walk with Lucy around the block, sitting in the morning sun on my front patio (enjoying breakfast), spending inordinate amounts of time on the computer, and watching documentaries and movies. My body is achy due to the lack of movement, hence the vacuuming.
I'm also cooking delicious meals. I usually watch a good t.v. program while I eat. Last night it was a show on a Colorado mountain town that boasts grand caves 1,400 feet above the valley. It's part of a PBS history series on Colorado, and as a new resident of the state, I discover all kinds of interesting people and places.
Just keeping up with the basics is doing enough for me right now. The days blend into one another and that's all right. Colorado is experiencing a surge of Covid-19 cases, as is my town. And yet the four lane road across from my home seems almost as busy as ever. I just don't understand. Maybe they're just going for a drive in order to get out of the house. I've done this a couple of times. Or maybe they're going to the grocery store. The part of me that's a control freak and a police officer wants to plant a big sign in the median that says "Stay the Fuck HOME!" I can be judgemental like that.
I'm trying not to judge the nay sayers, the Trumpers, the preachers and the conspiracy theorists who have now died of the virus. Not entirely succeeding, but I keep those thoughts to myself (mostly). I hope, at least, that people who think like them wake up when they see their kind die from this scourge. Speaking of scourge, our POS President pronounces it incorrectly time and time again. I hear this is snippets from his news conferences, because I no longer tune it for the circus. A new group of mental health experts are calling for urgent action to address the President's behavior, "The World Mental Health Coalition has issued a "prescription for survival" that urges several calls to action, including the invocation of the 25th amendment of the US Constitution, which would relinquish the president from office once the chief executive is determined unfit.
It also calls for the president's "urgent impeachment" in Congress and conviction in the US Senate, which must realise its decision "involves the very fate of the nation." The president also must undergo a court-ordered mental health evaluation and establish a Coronavirus Crisis Department within the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which would lead the US response to Covid-19, the group says." -- The Independent.
It will go nowhere, I fear. I don't know what it would take to get this guy removed.
This b.s. is one reason I am limiting my news watching/listening. What I am watching is the Ken Burns documentary series on the Roosevelts. Teddy was a bit crazy in his love of war, but he uncharacteristically (for a Republican) took on crooked politicians and businesses. He also began to give us a great National Park and Monument system. Observing his 5th cousin Franklin and how he tackled the devastating national economic depression makes me long for a Chief Executive like that in these terrifying times. Someone who could reassure the nation, rally people to action and develop national strategies. Sigh.
Anyway, these are the things and thoughts that occupy me these days. I hope you are taking good care of yourself, and cutting yourself some slack for any perceived lapses. We will get through this, and when we do, I envision lots of dinner parties, gatherings at pubs and breweries, and a surge of business for hair and nail salons!
I'm also cooking delicious meals. I usually watch a good t.v. program while I eat. Last night it was a show on a Colorado mountain town that boasts grand caves 1,400 feet above the valley. It's part of a PBS history series on Colorado, and as a new resident of the state, I discover all kinds of interesting people and places.
Just keeping up with the basics is doing enough for me right now. The days blend into one another and that's all right. Colorado is experiencing a surge of Covid-19 cases, as is my town. And yet the four lane road across from my home seems almost as busy as ever. I just don't understand. Maybe they're just going for a drive in order to get out of the house. I've done this a couple of times. Or maybe they're going to the grocery store. The part of me that's a control freak and a police officer wants to plant a big sign in the median that says "Stay the Fuck HOME!" I can be judgemental like that.
I'm trying not to judge the nay sayers, the Trumpers, the preachers and the conspiracy theorists who have now died of the virus. Not entirely succeeding, but I keep those thoughts to myself (mostly). I hope, at least, that people who think like them wake up when they see their kind die from this scourge. Speaking of scourge, our POS President pronounces it incorrectly time and time again. I hear this is snippets from his news conferences, because I no longer tune it for the circus. A new group of mental health experts are calling for urgent action to address the President's behavior, "The World Mental Health Coalition has issued a "prescription for survival" that urges several calls to action, including the invocation of the 25th amendment of the US Constitution, which would relinquish the president from office once the chief executive is determined unfit.
It also calls for the president's "urgent impeachment" in Congress and conviction in the US Senate, which must realise its decision "involves the very fate of the nation." The president also must undergo a court-ordered mental health evaluation and establish a Coronavirus Crisis Department within the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which would lead the US response to Covid-19, the group says." -- The Independent.
It will go nowhere, I fear. I don't know what it would take to get this guy removed.
This b.s. is one reason I am limiting my news watching/listening. What I am watching is the Ken Burns documentary series on the Roosevelts. Teddy was a bit crazy in his love of war, but he uncharacteristically (for a Republican) took on crooked politicians and businesses. He also began to give us a great National Park and Monument system. Observing his 5th cousin Franklin and how he tackled the devastating national economic depression makes me long for a Chief Executive like that in these terrifying times. Someone who could reassure the nation, rally people to action and develop national strategies. Sigh.
Anyway, these are the things and thoughts that occupy me these days. I hope you are taking good care of yourself, and cutting yourself some slack for any perceived lapses. We will get through this, and when we do, I envision lots of dinner parties, gatherings at pubs and breweries, and a surge of business for hair and nail salons!
Monday, March 30, 2020
Getting Their Goose On
It's nesting season for geese here in Colorado. It will last until July. I have no photos, alas, but trust me when I say a great cacophony goes on all day, every day. There is a large group of them down the road and I can watch from my house as they couple and do their mating dances. They are almost as loud as the BNSF trains that roar by the house several times a day -- and night. I'd much rather hear the geese.
Six kinds of geese are about, but I have no idea which I'm watching these days. Brant, cackling, Canada, greater white-fronted, Ross' and snow. Bar-headed goose and emperor goose have also been found in Colorado; the bar-headed was even found to be nesting in Larimer County. That's my county.
In addition to watching the geese, I've been recommended a movie called Crimp Camp.
I'm sure to like it, as it is about hippies and people fighting for their rights. Winning combination in my book. I'm going to make a matinee of it this very day. Stay well, everyone!
Six kinds of geese are about, but I have no idea which I'm watching these days. Brant, cackling, Canada, greater white-fronted, Ross' and snow. Bar-headed goose and emperor goose have also been found in Colorado; the bar-headed was even found to be nesting in Larimer County. That's my county.
In addition to watching the geese, I've been recommended a movie called Crimp Camp.
I'm sure to like it, as it is about hippies and people fighting for their rights. Winning combination in my book. I'm going to make a matinee of it this very day. Stay well, everyone!
Monday, March 23, 2020
Holy Smokes Boys and Girls
Is it beginning to register than this virus crisis is going to be months and not weeks? That's what I'm surmising from multiple sources. Yesterday I experienced my first panic attack over it. I woke from a terrible dream and immediately knew that two weeks of isolation was beginning to take its toll. I managed to get out for a walk in one of our lovely open spaces, and I took Lucy with me. There were plenty of people out, keeping good distances, and people with their children, dogs, bicycles, all enjoying a mild day after the equinox snow.
I spent an hour outside and boy, did it feel good. The sun on my face -- unbelievable!
Our Governor had a press conference this afternoon, announcing a new task force and new restrictions for employers of non-essential services. Each day this experience gets more surreal. My heart breaks for the country of Italy as the daily death count rises.
I'm trying to keep busy. I subscribed the the Masterclass series on-line and am enjoying the class with author David Sedaris. Next, I'm going to watch the photographer Annie Leibowitz. It's a way to stay engaged, build some skills in my creative life, and take my mind off the horrific news.
Friends from west coast to east are posting photos of empty and quiet streets in once busy cities. My only consolation is that Mother Earth is being given a break from humanity's destructive activity. Time for her to heal a little. I hope climate scientists come away with some persuasive data on our impact (like we don't know already).
How are you keeping sane these days? We may be staying in for 3 months, and that's a daunting bit of information. How do you do it? I guess we'll find out what we are made of.
My heart goes out to you all.
I spent an hour outside and boy, did it feel good. The sun on my face -- unbelievable!
Our Governor had a press conference this afternoon, announcing a new task force and new restrictions for employers of non-essential services. Each day this experience gets more surreal. My heart breaks for the country of Italy as the daily death count rises.
I'm trying to keep busy. I subscribed the the Masterclass series on-line and am enjoying the class with author David Sedaris. Next, I'm going to watch the photographer Annie Leibowitz. It's a way to stay engaged, build some skills in my creative life, and take my mind off the horrific news.
Friends from west coast to east are posting photos of empty and quiet streets in once busy cities. My only consolation is that Mother Earth is being given a break from humanity's destructive activity. Time for her to heal a little. I hope climate scientists come away with some persuasive data on our impact (like we don't know already).
How are you keeping sane these days? We may be staying in for 3 months, and that's a daunting bit of information. How do you do it? I guess we'll find out what we are made of.
My heart goes out to you all.
Monday, March 16, 2020
Corona Virus Hits Home
Steve's Celebration of Life service has been cancelled due to the virus. We are trying to slow the progression of the spread, especially at the retirement community where it was going to be held.
My doctor had already advised me not to fly. I am self isolating, just to play it safe. I went to the grocery store the other day and the lines were long, the toilet paper shelves were empty, and people were not observing the six foot distance from one another. I needed to be there to pick up a prescription, and figured I'd get some food shopping in while I was there.
The Centers for Disease Control is in the process of doing targeted outreach to the elderly community and those that have serious underlying health conditions. They are advising avoiding activities such as traveling by airplane, going to movie theaters, attending family events, shopping at crowded malls, and going to religious services. This 'elderly' group surely doesn't mean me, does it? Yes. People over 60, especially since I have three underlying, chronic conditions.
This virus particularly hits the lungs, and with chronic asthma, that's not good. Also, an illness like this would escalate my blood sugars to the extreme, and that is never good.
Another thing the CDC is recommending is to have a supply of prescription medications at home. Supply chains may be disrupted. My daughter went to refill a prescription yesterday and her insurance company would not pay for more than one month's supply. Her out of pocket cost if she chose to get two month's worth would be $700. And I know my insurance company will not cover more than a month's supply -- an issue I have raised before in these posts. Seems to me there should be federal mandate for temporarily lifting these restrictions so people can have a back up supply if needed.
I am not panicked but I am aware. I will take what precautions I can. I was hoping to fly to France in April to stay with friends in the North, and then travel to Paris to scatter Steve's ashes there. But I will postpone that one for sure. He doesn't care. He was unsentimental about those sorts of things and he never expressed a wish to have his ashes scattered in the Seine. It's strictly for me, and his daughter thinks it is a grand idea.
I have been working with a grief counselor for the last couple of weeks. What a difference it has made. I got to the point where I was feeling desperate in my grief and becoming stuck and non-functional. After just my second visit, a great weight was lifted off my shoulders. The episodes of raw uncontrollable crying have abated. The guilt of not being there with him has been put back into perspective and I have regained a certain peace about the whole thing. The making of the book has been cathartic.
The news on the virus seems to change every day, in that there are more cases every day. We have seventy two confirmed in Colorado, and from what I've read, that probably means we have 700 unknown cases in the state. It's going to get worse before it gets better.
I have plenty to keep me busy: my house has never been more clean!
I hope you are coping with all the upheaval. If you have recommendations for books or movies (on Netlfix or Amazon), let me know! This may be a long period of staying close to home.
My doctor had already advised me not to fly. I am self isolating, just to play it safe. I went to the grocery store the other day and the lines were long, the toilet paper shelves were empty, and people were not observing the six foot distance from one another. I needed to be there to pick up a prescription, and figured I'd get some food shopping in while I was there.
The Centers for Disease Control is in the process of doing targeted outreach to the elderly community and those that have serious underlying health conditions. They are advising avoiding activities such as traveling by airplane, going to movie theaters, attending family events, shopping at crowded malls, and going to religious services. This 'elderly' group surely doesn't mean me, does it? Yes. People over 60, especially since I have three underlying, chronic conditions.
This virus particularly hits the lungs, and with chronic asthma, that's not good. Also, an illness like this would escalate my blood sugars to the extreme, and that is never good.
Another thing the CDC is recommending is to have a supply of prescription medications at home. Supply chains may be disrupted. My daughter went to refill a prescription yesterday and her insurance company would not pay for more than one month's supply. Her out of pocket cost if she chose to get two month's worth would be $700. And I know my insurance company will not cover more than a month's supply -- an issue I have raised before in these posts. Seems to me there should be federal mandate for temporarily lifting these restrictions so people can have a back up supply if needed.
I am not panicked but I am aware. I will take what precautions I can. I was hoping to fly to France in April to stay with friends in the North, and then travel to Paris to scatter Steve's ashes there. But I will postpone that one for sure. He doesn't care. He was unsentimental about those sorts of things and he never expressed a wish to have his ashes scattered in the Seine. It's strictly for me, and his daughter thinks it is a grand idea.
I have been working with a grief counselor for the last couple of weeks. What a difference it has made. I got to the point where I was feeling desperate in my grief and becoming stuck and non-functional. After just my second visit, a great weight was lifted off my shoulders. The episodes of raw uncontrollable crying have abated. The guilt of not being there with him has been put back into perspective and I have regained a certain peace about the whole thing. The making of the book has been cathartic.
The news on the virus seems to change every day, in that there are more cases every day. We have seventy two confirmed in Colorado, and from what I've read, that probably means we have 700 unknown cases in the state. It's going to get worse before it gets better.
I have plenty to keep me busy: my house has never been more clean!
I hope you are coping with all the upheaval. If you have recommendations for books or movies (on Netlfix or Amazon), let me know! This may be a long period of staying close to home.
Monday, March 9, 2020
Life in the Time of High Maintenance - Part Two
There are more maintenance items in my near future (but of course there are, you say). My osteoporosis is getting worse and we’ve got to come up with a plan for that, and my thyroid is dying a slow but certain death. I found that out because I insisted on the full range of thyroid tests and not just the standard TSH, which always comes out normal. Turns out, I have antibodies that are attacking my vital gland that regulates so much in the human body. I think about this whenever I feel sluggish or I have trouble reducing my body fat no matter how meticulous I am in counting calories and carbohydrates. I write my entire food intake down and watch my portion sizes. It's the theme of my adult life. And it kind of fries my butt that I had to insist on the test.
It’s a wonder that I have time to do anything else during my day, but I make the time for getting to the gym three days a week, a class once a week, visit my grandchildren once or twice a week if I’m lucky, and go to the occasional movie or concert. I have a yoga class once a week, and try to get out to meet up with a friend once a week. Tomorrow I'm going to The Wildlife Sanctuary with a friend, weather permitting. The place comes highly recommended.
I spend a ridiculous amount of time on Facebook or surfing the net (NYT, PBS). I watch movies on Netflix, Amazon and Hulu. I am very fond of Nova science programs on PBS, and the delightful and endlessly interesting show “Finding Your Roots” also on PBS. I do read, though not as much as I used to. My mind tends to wander and it takes me forever to get through a book. Just eight years ago I had on average three books on my bedside table at any given time. Reading a book takes dedication to creating the right space and time to do it properly. The goal is to get back to it in earnest.
I have also just signed up for the Masterclass series on line, the class presented by author (and super human being whom I’ve met twice) David Sedaris finally convinced me to slap $180 down for a full year of unlimited classes. Other classes include Joyce Carol Oates and Margaret Atwood. As a photography enthusiast, the Annie Leibovitz class is a must.
And, of course, I am grieving the passing of my husband, which sometimes feels like a full time job. This grief is nuts, I tell you. One day I get through it with just a few tears, the next I am leveled by my emotions and the amount of crying that I go through. And the anger is returning; the anger I felt when he kicked me to the curb on my birthday last June. The hurt and grief of losing him to his selfish, ego driven impulses was big then. I've found a super grief therapist who is helping me sort all of these tangled feelings. It's helping me set aside the traumatic last months together and appreciate the bulk of our short time. I do recall, fondly, all the good times we had together. Since we were both retired, we were able to plan activities and trips whenever it worked for our open schedules. A friend of mine recently said, "You did not find each other by accident." Who knew we would have such a brief moment on earth together? Being with him allowed me to travel the world, something I'd not done up to that point. I'm going to miss those travels, and his partnership on those adventures. The good food, the wine, the sheer delight of being in a new land.
It’s a wonder that I have time to do anything else during my day, but I make the time for getting to the gym three days a week, a class once a week, visit my grandchildren once or twice a week if I’m lucky, and go to the occasional movie or concert. I have a yoga class once a week, and try to get out to meet up with a friend once a week. Tomorrow I'm going to The Wildlife Sanctuary with a friend, weather permitting. The place comes highly recommended.
I spend a ridiculous amount of time on Facebook or surfing the net (NYT, PBS). I watch movies on Netflix, Amazon and Hulu. I am very fond of Nova science programs on PBS, and the delightful and endlessly interesting show “Finding Your Roots” also on PBS. I do read, though not as much as I used to. My mind tends to wander and it takes me forever to get through a book. Just eight years ago I had on average three books on my bedside table at any given time. Reading a book takes dedication to creating the right space and time to do it properly. The goal is to get back to it in earnest.
I have also just signed up for the Masterclass series on line, the class presented by author (and super human being whom I’ve met twice) David Sedaris finally convinced me to slap $180 down for a full year of unlimited classes. Other classes include Joyce Carol Oates and Margaret Atwood. As a photography enthusiast, the Annie Leibovitz class is a must.
And, of course, I am grieving the passing of my husband, which sometimes feels like a full time job. This grief is nuts, I tell you. One day I get through it with just a few tears, the next I am leveled by my emotions and the amount of crying that I go through. And the anger is returning; the anger I felt when he kicked me to the curb on my birthday last June. The hurt and grief of losing him to his selfish, ego driven impulses was big then. I've found a super grief therapist who is helping me sort all of these tangled feelings. It's helping me set aside the traumatic last months together and appreciate the bulk of our short time. I do recall, fondly, all the good times we had together. Since we were both retired, we were able to plan activities and trips whenever it worked for our open schedules. A friend of mine recently said, "You did not find each other by accident." Who knew we would have such a brief moment on earth together? Being with him allowed me to travel the world, something I'd not done up to that point. I'm going to miss those travels, and his partnership on those adventures. The good food, the wine, the sheer delight of being in a new land.
So the wheel turns.
Monday, March 2, 2020
We Are a Complicated Lot
Just when I think I’ve got it bad, you know, the deep and endless sadness of loss, I discover I’m not alone. I went out to get the mail today and walked to the boxes with my neighbor, Ann, who is 93 years old. She asked me how I was doing, and when I was going back to Davis for my husband’s service. So we chatted, standing in the new snow, a little chilly. She told me she’s just been experiencing the most horrible two weeks of her life. I braced myself. Her sixty-three year old son passed away from Lymphoma. He was her only child. She moved here from Davis to be close to him and his family. She said, “Nobody should have to bury their own child.” Damn right, Ann, nobody.
Oh, the burdens we carry.
I couldn't sit with her just then, but I will go by later today. I’ll ask her to tell me about her son, what he was like as a boy, where did he go to school, that sort of thing. I will be crying right along side her.
Life does go on, though, doesn’t it? (Thankfully.) I had the family over for Sunday dinner and though Eden was sullen after his haircut (it’s a thing with him) he perked up when Lucy jumped into his lap. My ex came, too. It’s very nice to be friends with him again after all the acrimony of 29 years ago. He’s so good with the grands, and my daughter is beyond happy that her children get to be with both their grandparents on a regular basis.
My parents were pretty hands off when it came to grand parenting. My sisters and I were upset about it, but there was nothing to do. It caused me so much anguish over the years, softened only by the knowledge that her paternal grandparents were very loving and involved in her life.
I am happy to break the cycle in my family of origin, and be a very different kind of grandparent to my grands. Steve and his first wife were pretty hands off as well. He didn’t spend any kind of real time getting to know his grand kids, and these kids are delightful. He spoke lovingly of them, and he was proud of their accomplishments. But involved? No.
The layers of grief and resentment his children feel are slowly revealing themselves. Here I was, grappling with his abandonment of me, but they have a life-time of resentment over his abandonment of them and then their children. It’s most difficult to square in my mind, how someone can be so loving and connected, seemingly open hearted and sensitive to life’s joys, but push away the very people who would add such richness to their lives.
We are a complicated lot.
Here’s a pretty photo of the sunrise the other day. I stepped outside to my very cold front patio to get this picture. I did it all for you, dear Reader.
Oh, the burdens we carry.
I couldn't sit with her just then, but I will go by later today. I’ll ask her to tell me about her son, what he was like as a boy, where did he go to school, that sort of thing. I will be crying right along side her.
Life does go on, though, doesn’t it? (Thankfully.) I had the family over for Sunday dinner and though Eden was sullen after his haircut (it’s a thing with him) he perked up when Lucy jumped into his lap. My ex came, too. It’s very nice to be friends with him again after all the acrimony of 29 years ago. He’s so good with the grands, and my daughter is beyond happy that her children get to be with both their grandparents on a regular basis.
My parents were pretty hands off when it came to grand parenting. My sisters and I were upset about it, but there was nothing to do. It caused me so much anguish over the years, softened only by the knowledge that her paternal grandparents were very loving and involved in her life.
I am happy to break the cycle in my family of origin, and be a very different kind of grandparent to my grands. Steve and his first wife were pretty hands off as well. He didn’t spend any kind of real time getting to know his grand kids, and these kids are delightful. He spoke lovingly of them, and he was proud of their accomplishments. But involved? No.
The layers of grief and resentment his children feel are slowly revealing themselves. Here I was, grappling with his abandonment of me, but they have a life-time of resentment over his abandonment of them and then their children. It’s most difficult to square in my mind, how someone can be so loving and connected, seemingly open hearted and sensitive to life’s joys, but push away the very people who would add such richness to their lives.
We are a complicated lot.
Here’s a pretty photo of the sunrise the other day. I stepped outside to my very cold front patio to get this picture. I did it all for you, dear Reader.
Monday, February 24, 2020
Life in the Time of High Maintenance
Part One
Getting ready for bed, I take all my meds, gargle after the steroid inhaler I use for asthma control, brush my teeth with a very expensive high fluoride toothpaste to stave off my receding gums, pop in my bite guard to keep me from grinding my teeth down to tiny nubs, perform a bedtime check on my blood sugar levels and correct with the appropriate amount of insulin if need be, insert my earplugs to mute the sound of the BNSF railroad that screams down the tracks near my home, blowing its whistle excessively and loudly even though there are double guards and flashing lights at the intersection of Harmony and College Avenue.
My last task is to slather cream on my hands and feet to prevent obscene skin cracking, similar to the ice sheets calving in the Arctic. Once in bed, I position the CPAP nose buds over my nostrils (after making sure I’ve filled the water reservoir with distilled water), pull the head strap on to secure everything, and then settle down into the comfort of my bed and pillows. The cool air that is expelled from the mask makes it necessary to tuck my arms under the blanket. On the best of nights, I lie on my back and drift into sleep after about 15 minutes.
On other nights, I remember I did not take the dog out for her final release of bodily fluids and solids. I get out of bed, put on a coat and, at this time of year, snow boots, and coax her out to the snow covered lawn. She’s a Chihuahua and doesn’t like the cold, for obvious reasons. When the snow is high, she sinks in up to her chest and quickly jumps out to find something shallower. Often times she goes on the front patio or quite near the front door. I’ll hose it off when the snow melts. It’s 11:40 at night and I just want to get her inside and back into our shared bed so sleeping may commence. Am I freakin’ freezing. Time for the warmth of the bed.
An hour later I get up to use the loo. Then I check my blood sugar because I’m feeling a little woozy. I find it is low and so I pierce a box of juice, made for the kiddies, with the sharp plastic straw and suck down 22 grams of carbohydrate just as fast as I can. Then back to bed while the shakes and sweats from low blood sugar take about twenty minutes to leave me in peace.
Except the damn BNSF disrupts my sleep again. I remind myself to get an estimate on triple pane windows for the bedroom. Alternately, I fantasize about standing close to the tracks with an AK57. Finally, at some point I am not aware of, I am asleep.
Morning begins sweetly in a sleepy haze that knows neither time nor space. I am a teenager again, lolling in my bed dreaming of my three breakfasts of choice: protein fruit shake, an vegetable omelet, or Bircher’s blend cereal mix cooked up hot with oat milk and fresh blueberries or a banana (not forgetting the healthy dash of cinnamon). Before long, I know I must take the dog out again or risk a piddle or a pooh on the wall-to-wall carpet. Why she never goes on the vinyl floor, which is easy to clean, I’ll cannot for the life of me figure out. Once her majesty has had her toilette, I pull out the whole roasted chicken from the refrigerator and carve off a hunk for her. Pulling it apart into manageable pieces with my clumsy morning fingers, I set her bowl on the (vinyl) floor, wash the meat off my hands and return the chicken to the refrigerator, wondering all the while why in God’s name she can’t return to canned food. I’ve tried the tough love on the canned meat but she wins every time. At five and a half pounds, I worry about any weight loss and if she skips a day or two of eating because she can’t abide the canned stuff anymore, I panic and break down. This bitch is running the show and we both know it.
Then everything comes to a screeching halt: I realize I haven’t checked my morning blood sugars, which rise precipitously between six and eight in the morning. If I don’t get my numbers and correct accordingly with the life giving insulin, I’ll end up ridiculously high (and not in the good way) and it will take hours to approach something close to normal.
After breakfast comes the vitamins/minerals etcetera: Calcium, magnesium, Vitamin D (5,000 units), CoQ10, Iron and Baby Aspirin. All, apparently, play a vital role in maintaining my health, fragile though it may be. My doctors have recommended all: primary care, diabetes care, pulmonary care and cardiac care. I wish I received the perks for a Frequent Flyer program in the health care field. You know, a free cocktail while waiting in the reception area or a free visit for every ten. Why can’t this be a thing?
BNSF: Moving our economy for one hundred years, and pissing off sleeping people the whole damn time.
Getting ready for bed, I take all my meds, gargle after the steroid inhaler I use for asthma control, brush my teeth with a very expensive high fluoride toothpaste to stave off my receding gums, pop in my bite guard to keep me from grinding my teeth down to tiny nubs, perform a bedtime check on my blood sugar levels and correct with the appropriate amount of insulin if need be, insert my earplugs to mute the sound of the BNSF railroad that screams down the tracks near my home, blowing its whistle excessively and loudly even though there are double guards and flashing lights at the intersection of Harmony and College Avenue.
My last task is to slather cream on my hands and feet to prevent obscene skin cracking, similar to the ice sheets calving in the Arctic. Once in bed, I position the CPAP nose buds over my nostrils (after making sure I’ve filled the water reservoir with distilled water), pull the head strap on to secure everything, and then settle down into the comfort of my bed and pillows. The cool air that is expelled from the mask makes it necessary to tuck my arms under the blanket. On the best of nights, I lie on my back and drift into sleep after about 15 minutes.
On other nights, I remember I did not take the dog out for her final release of bodily fluids and solids. I get out of bed, put on a coat and, at this time of year, snow boots, and coax her out to the snow covered lawn. She’s a Chihuahua and doesn’t like the cold, for obvious reasons. When the snow is high, she sinks in up to her chest and quickly jumps out to find something shallower. Often times she goes on the front patio or quite near the front door. I’ll hose it off when the snow melts. It’s 11:40 at night and I just want to get her inside and back into our shared bed so sleeping may commence. Am I freakin’ freezing. Time for the warmth of the bed.
An hour later I get up to use the loo. Then I check my blood sugar because I’m feeling a little woozy. I find it is low and so I pierce a box of juice, made for the kiddies, with the sharp plastic straw and suck down 22 grams of carbohydrate just as fast as I can. Then back to bed while the shakes and sweats from low blood sugar take about twenty minutes to leave me in peace.
Except the damn BNSF disrupts my sleep again. I remind myself to get an estimate on triple pane windows for the bedroom. Alternately, I fantasize about standing close to the tracks with an AK57. Finally, at some point I am not aware of, I am asleep.
Morning begins sweetly in a sleepy haze that knows neither time nor space. I am a teenager again, lolling in my bed dreaming of my three breakfasts of choice: protein fruit shake, an vegetable omelet, or Bircher’s blend cereal mix cooked up hot with oat milk and fresh blueberries or a banana (not forgetting the healthy dash of cinnamon). Before long, I know I must take the dog out again or risk a piddle or a pooh on the wall-to-wall carpet. Why she never goes on the vinyl floor, which is easy to clean, I’ll cannot for the life of me figure out. Once her majesty has had her toilette, I pull out the whole roasted chicken from the refrigerator and carve off a hunk for her. Pulling it apart into manageable pieces with my clumsy morning fingers, I set her bowl on the (vinyl) floor, wash the meat off my hands and return the chicken to the refrigerator, wondering all the while why in God’s name she can’t return to canned food. I’ve tried the tough love on the canned meat but she wins every time. At five and a half pounds, I worry about any weight loss and if she skips a day or two of eating because she can’t abide the canned stuff anymore, I panic and break down. This bitch is running the show and we both know it.
Then everything comes to a screeching halt: I realize I haven’t checked my morning blood sugars, which rise precipitously between six and eight in the morning. If I don’t get my numbers and correct accordingly with the life giving insulin, I’ll end up ridiculously high (and not in the good way) and it will take hours to approach something close to normal.
After breakfast comes the vitamins/minerals etcetera: Calcium, magnesium, Vitamin D (5,000 units), CoQ10, Iron and Baby Aspirin. All, apparently, play a vital role in maintaining my health, fragile though it may be. My doctors have recommended all: primary care, diabetes care, pulmonary care and cardiac care. I wish I received the perks for a Frequent Flyer program in the health care field. You know, a free cocktail while waiting in the reception area or a free visit for every ten. Why can’t this be a thing?
BNSF: Moving our economy for one hundred years, and pissing off sleeping people the whole damn time.
Monday, February 10, 2020
Sleepover
Oh, joy! Last night my grandson spent the night with me. We had pizza (cauliflower crust), cherry tomatoes, crispy snap peas and fruit chunks for dessert. We camped out on the couch with a tray between us and watched his shows.
Eden loves rolling around on the round foot stool (pouf) I have. And he likes to balance on it, standing tall and moving his feet as if on a surf board. That pouf is getting a work out.
He was pretty wound up after an afternoon at a rock climbing gym with one of his pals. He explained to me that this particular friend gets grumpy quite easily -- mad, even. Today it was the 'prize' he got for reaching the top of the climbing wall: a Cliff bar. His pal wanted a toy. Eden was quite thrilled with the cliff bar, his friend was not. Eden said, with equanimity, that his friend didn't speak to anyone while in the car going home. He was pouting. I told Eden he was very patient with his friend, and his reply was, "Whatcha gonna do?" Exactly.
My son-in-law is on a business trip to India, of all places, and his mom and a friend drove to Boulder to see a drag show, of all things.
His little sister was with the wife of the woman who Laurel was with, and she took my little grand daughter, who is about their son's age.
Eden was picked up bright and early by his Nanny in order to get him ready for school. My daughter leaves for work about 6:15, and I know she won't have returned home before midnight. She's going to be one tired ass teacher today.
And this, my friends, is why I moved to Colorado. To experience the lives of my grand children and to imprint the totality of my goofiness upon them.
I had one very cool grand mother, and she was my favorite. Not all grown up and stuffy like the others. She modeled good grand parenting.
Crossing my fingers there will be many nights like this to come.
Have a good week!
He was pretty wound up after an afternoon at a rock climbing gym with one of his pals. He explained to me that this particular friend gets grumpy quite easily -- mad, even. Today it was the 'prize' he got for reaching the top of the climbing wall: a Cliff bar. His pal wanted a toy. Eden was quite thrilled with the cliff bar, his friend was not. Eden said, with equanimity, that his friend didn't speak to anyone while in the car going home. He was pouting. I told Eden he was very patient with his friend, and his reply was, "Whatcha gonna do?" Exactly.
My son-in-law is on a business trip to India, of all places, and his mom and a friend drove to Boulder to see a drag show, of all things.
His little sister was with the wife of the woman who Laurel was with, and she took my little grand daughter, who is about their son's age.
Eden was picked up bright and early by his Nanny in order to get him ready for school. My daughter leaves for work about 6:15, and I know she won't have returned home before midnight. She's going to be one tired ass teacher today.
And this, my friends, is why I moved to Colorado. To experience the lives of my grand children and to imprint the totality of my goofiness upon them.
I had one very cool grand mother, and she was my favorite. Not all grown up and stuffy like the others. She modeled good grand parenting.
Crossing my fingers there will be many nights like this to come.
Have a good week!
Monday, February 3, 2020
Entertainment, both natural and man-made
John, on his blog By Stargoose and Hanglands, shared a great video last Friday with Captain John singing a lovely sweet song. John mentioned the Music Maker Relief Foundation, which I'd never heard of. I went to the site immediately afterward and it brings me great joy that this foundation exists. They are working to preserve American musical heritage, to help the great older musicians who never made big bucks from their love of music. Take a jog over there and have a look. I think it links well with our music Fridays that Robin got started on her blog, The New Dharma Bums (with husband Roger).
Speaking of music, Friday night my family and I went to Mesamerica at our local Discovery Museum's planetarium.
Our music was recorded, unlike the video. We took my 8 year old grandson and he sat there transfixed. Until he fell asleep thirty minutes into the 60 minute show! It was a dizzying visual display that put me into an hypnotic state. There I sat next to my first husband, joking about all the mind-bending drugs we had taken in our youth and how we could have just skipped all that if we'd had this technology back then! The same planetarium is running Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon later this month, and I am tempted to go. There was another fantastic visual show this week on Saturday, the sunset! I saw the house next to me all lit up it a pink glow, so I grabbed my new iPhone 11pro and ran outside. There I met one of my neighbors, also taking photos of the sky. It was changing minute to minute and we talked while we took our pictures. It was insanely beautiful.
The weather was warm all weekend: 68 on Saturday and 70 on Sunday. I mean, so sweater at all! Just a cotton shirt and some jeans and I was good to go. I had lunch on Saturday with a new friend, and we ate and chatted for two hours. Her husband has Parkinson's, so we did talk a lot about that. On Sunday, my friend of 31 years who lives near Boulder, came over and we went to lunch in a restaurant that turned out to be very noisy, so when the waitress brought our water we informed her we were moving to the patio. There was a stiff breeze out there, but it was better than the noise inside, and as long as you were in the sun, the breeze was not a big bother. Another yummy lunch, eaten leisurely while talking with a very dear friend. Afterward, we walked a couple of blocks to an amazing store called Nature's Own. My friend is quite knowledgeable amount gemstones and minerals and she wanted to check it out. She ended up buying a couple of beautiful stone bowls and a vase. They have extraordinary amethyst geodes that I would love to have, but at a cost of $7,000, I had to pass. Sigh.
I finished up my Sunday by going over to the kid's house to watch the Super Bowl. Actually, eating was my main objective and the ads came in second, with the game finishing last. I had heard that POTUS bought a thirty second commercial, but I sure didn't see it. The half-time show was the usual over-the-top music production with scantily clad women bumping and grinding their way through a medley of their hits. Oh-la-la. Maybe I'm just jealous of their youthful exuberance (though both performers were in their 40s and 50s) and physical fitness. I mean, pole dancing in your fifties? You've gotta be in damn good shape! That, I am not.
Speaking of music, Friday night my family and I went to Mesamerica at our local Discovery Museum's planetarium.
Our music was recorded, unlike the video. We took my 8 year old grandson and he sat there transfixed. Until he fell asleep thirty minutes into the 60 minute show! It was a dizzying visual display that put me into an hypnotic state. There I sat next to my first husband, joking about all the mind-bending drugs we had taken in our youth and how we could have just skipped all that if we'd had this technology back then! The same planetarium is running Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon later this month, and I am tempted to go. There was another fantastic visual show this week on Saturday, the sunset! I saw the house next to me all lit up it a pink glow, so I grabbed my new iPhone 11pro and ran outside. There I met one of my neighbors, also taking photos of the sky. It was changing minute to minute and we talked while we took our pictures. It was insanely beautiful.
The weather was warm all weekend: 68 on Saturday and 70 on Sunday. I mean, so sweater at all! Just a cotton shirt and some jeans and I was good to go. I had lunch on Saturday with a new friend, and we ate and chatted for two hours. Her husband has Parkinson's, so we did talk a lot about that. On Sunday, my friend of 31 years who lives near Boulder, came over and we went to lunch in a restaurant that turned out to be very noisy, so when the waitress brought our water we informed her we were moving to the patio. There was a stiff breeze out there, but it was better than the noise inside, and as long as you were in the sun, the breeze was not a big bother. Another yummy lunch, eaten leisurely while talking with a very dear friend. Afterward, we walked a couple of blocks to an amazing store called Nature's Own. My friend is quite knowledgeable amount gemstones and minerals and she wanted to check it out. She ended up buying a couple of beautiful stone bowls and a vase. They have extraordinary amethyst geodes that I would love to have, but at a cost of $7,000, I had to pass. Sigh.
I finished up my Sunday by going over to the kid's house to watch the Super Bowl. Actually, eating was my main objective and the ads came in second, with the game finishing last. I had heard that POTUS bought a thirty second commercial, but I sure didn't see it. The half-time show was the usual over-the-top music production with scantily clad women bumping and grinding their way through a medley of their hits. Oh-la-la. Maybe I'm just jealous of their youthful exuberance (though both performers were in their 40s and 50s) and physical fitness. I mean, pole dancing in your fifties? You've gotta be in damn good shape! That, I am not.
Monday, January 27, 2020
The Day Women Rocked DC
Three years ago I attended the Women's March in Washington, DC. I flew from California, where there were plenty of marches as well, but I wanted to be in our nation's Capitol. I wanted to be in that number. And what a number it was. Completely outstripped any crowd estimates. It made for some uncomfortable moments as I couldn't move (literally, my friends, literally) for a period of three hours while speeches were being given. My friends and I were schmooshed up against the Air and Space Museum, shoulder to should, belly to back. I took a lot of deep breaths and hoped fervently that I didn't have a medical emergency. I even wore an adult diaper, so called, in case my notoriously leaky bladder had problems. I was prepared.
The big take away for me was that 470,000 pissed off people could gather and not have a single act of violence or vandalism. We were united in our love of liberty and equality, and in our protest of what we believed would be an anti-woman, anti-people administration. And by gawd, our worst fears have come true.
I didn't attend this year's march. After DC, I thought I was done with large marches. It was a very long and stressful day, and though I was glad to be there, it was a slog.
I became separated from my friends, cell service was non-existent, but I finally caught up with one friend and we hopped a pedicab to get us to our dinner date with the group we came with. My feet hurt for days after.
Nevertheless, it was inspiring to be with people of all ages, abilities, ethnicities, etc. etc. I had a ball getting photos of the day. I have saved mementos from the day, including my pink pussy hat, and hope that one day my grand daughter will see them and treasure them as a part of national, and her grandmother's, history.
The big take away for me was that 470,000 pissed off people could gather and not have a single act of violence or vandalism. We were united in our love of liberty and equality, and in our protest of what we believed would be an anti-woman, anti-people administration. And by gawd, our worst fears have come true.
I didn't attend this year's march. After DC, I thought I was done with large marches. It was a very long and stressful day, and though I was glad to be there, it was a slog.
I became separated from my friends, cell service was non-existent, but I finally caught up with one friend and we hopped a pedicab to get us to our dinner date with the group we came with. My feet hurt for days after.
Nevertheless, it was inspiring to be with people of all ages, abilities, ethnicities, etc. etc. I had a ball getting photos of the day. I have saved mementos from the day, including my pink pussy hat, and hope that one day my grand daughter will see them and treasure them as a part of national, and her grandmother's, history.
Friday, January 24, 2020
Time is Your Most Valuable Asset (Like my blog title says)
There's nothing quite like a death to snap you out of your dream state. There's a wooden sign that's been hanging at the Tassajara Zen Mountain Center for decades.
The sign serves as a gong as well, which why part of it is worn away, but it says "Wake up!/Life is transient/swiftly passing/Be aware/The great matter/Don't waste time."
Every visit I would pass this sign several times a day and ponder the message. I'm sure at life's end I will be thinking or saying, "Jeez that went fast."
Regular readers know that I've faced some significant health challenges over the past few years. Just last July I had a tumor on my parathyroid gland removed. It wasn't cancer, but it was causing a lot of damage to my bones, stealing the calcium particularly from my left hip. The exhaustion was debilitating and it took months for the doctors to figure out what was going on.
Then there's my heart. And my diabetes. And asthma. Good Grief, Charlie Brown. It's daunting at times to grapple with so much, but what choice do I have? Taking care of myself is Job Number One. These conditions also put me in touch with my own mortality and there are some bottom line truths I've pondered many times. It's good for all of us to think about, because we are not in control, boys and girls.
The sign serves as a gong as well, which why part of it is worn away, but it says "Wake up!/Life is transient/swiftly passing/Be aware/The great matter/Don't waste time."
Every visit I would pass this sign several times a day and ponder the message. I'm sure at life's end I will be thinking or saying, "Jeez that went fast."
Regular readers know that I've faced some significant health challenges over the past few years. Just last July I had a tumor on my parathyroid gland removed. It wasn't cancer, but it was causing a lot of damage to my bones, stealing the calcium particularly from my left hip. The exhaustion was debilitating and it took months for the doctors to figure out what was going on.
Then there's my heart. And my diabetes. And asthma. Good Grief, Charlie Brown. It's daunting at times to grapple with so much, but what choice do I have? Taking care of myself is Job Number One. These conditions also put me in touch with my own mortality and there are some bottom line truths I've pondered many times. It's good for all of us to think about, because we are not in control, boys and girls.
Here are 20 brutal truths that every single person needs to hear. From Matthew Jones.
Then listen to this moving song by Jane Siberry and KD Lang.
Then listen to this moving song by Jane Siberry and KD Lang.
I like to think there are Angels among us. I don't know if there are, but I am comforted by the idea.
Monday, January 20, 2020
Dr. King - What would he say about Blogging?
Happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day! I took this photo three years ago when I was in DC for the Women's March. I appreciated the statue much more in person than I did when I first saw photos of it. It's quite majestic up close and personal.
I was just reading the other day that the first African American school girl to be integrated into an all white school in Louisiana is now just 65 years old. I'm 62 and I remember the television coverage of school integration, civil rights marches and white backlash rallies. Our nation still has a long way to go to achieve equality for all. I don't know if we'll ever get there, but I share his dream and always will. Our treatment of enslaved Africans, their descendents and Black Americans from a variety of ancestral lines, is our national shame. We will never be a great nation until this is solved.
Now, onto another topic not remotely related to Dr. King. But maybe he'd have something to say if he were around.
Blogging Etiquette
I have searched the Internet far and wide for this topic, and the only discussions are for business blogs. So it's all about maximizing your ad dollars, building your audience to build your income and things like that. When I specifically searched the topic as it relates to personal blogs, nothing came up. Only a description of what a personal blog is.
My real question is: if you visit a blog often, enjoy and make comments, but the blogger never responds to your comment (they reply to others on occasion) nor leaves a comment on your blog, can you assume that your participation is unwelcome? I don't want to make a pest of myself, after all. I've recently started to expand my blog reading, based largely on the blog list on Robin and Roger's blog. I know them well and we have many common interests, so I figure their list is one that would resonate with me. I also now see many of the same bloggers making the rounds on the same blogs.
I can understand if someone checks out my blog and finds it not to their taste. That's fine. So, I guess I can assume two things about these new bloggers I am reading: the don't find my blog to their liking, and my participation on their blog is a big yawn for them.
In which case I'm happy to remove them from my blog roll and move on. It would be a shame, though, because I am enamored with at least two of the new blogs I am reading. (You know, "I like your blog, why don't you like mine? I thought we were simpatico.") It's kind of like getting the brush off at a party...which is also fairly humiliating. Only temporarily, though. I don't believe in punishing myself with reactions like that.
If you have an input or insight, I'd love to hear it.
Have a great week.
I was just reading the other day that the first African American school girl to be integrated into an all white school in Louisiana is now just 65 years old. I'm 62 and I remember the television coverage of school integration, civil rights marches and white backlash rallies. Our nation still has a long way to go to achieve equality for all. I don't know if we'll ever get there, but I share his dream and always will. Our treatment of enslaved Africans, their descendents and Black Americans from a variety of ancestral lines, is our national shame. We will never be a great nation until this is solved.
Now, onto another topic not remotely related to Dr. King. But maybe he'd have something to say if he were around.
Blogging Etiquette
I have searched the Internet far and wide for this topic, and the only discussions are for business blogs. So it's all about maximizing your ad dollars, building your audience to build your income and things like that. When I specifically searched the topic as it relates to personal blogs, nothing came up. Only a description of what a personal blog is.
My real question is: if you visit a blog often, enjoy and make comments, but the blogger never responds to your comment (they reply to others on occasion) nor leaves a comment on your blog, can you assume that your participation is unwelcome? I don't want to make a pest of myself, after all. I've recently started to expand my blog reading, based largely on the blog list on Robin and Roger's blog. I know them well and we have many common interests, so I figure their list is one that would resonate with me. I also now see many of the same bloggers making the rounds on the same blogs.
I can understand if someone checks out my blog and finds it not to their taste. That's fine. So, I guess I can assume two things about these new bloggers I am reading: the don't find my blog to their liking, and my participation on their blog is a big yawn for them.
In which case I'm happy to remove them from my blog roll and move on. It would be a shame, though, because I am enamored with at least two of the new blogs I am reading. (You know, "I like your blog, why don't you like mine? I thought we were simpatico.") It's kind of like getting the brush off at a party...which is also fairly humiliating. Only temporarily, though. I don't believe in punishing myself with reactions like that.
If you have an input or insight, I'd love to hear it.
Have a great week.
Monday, January 13, 2020
Losing my Husband - Twice
This past week has been a monumental journey for my husband Steve, and me. I flew to California to be with him. My sister sent me a photo she took of Steve in the Skilled Nursing unit where we lived. I was horrified by the changes in him, the deterioration of his poor body. I wanted to get out there and try to spend some time with him while I could.
And I did. And it was very, very good. We held hands, spoke words of love and forgiveness, and one day took a nap together in the hospital bed, cuddled together, and he managed to squeak out one word, "Nice."
Three days after I arrived he began to transition out of this life. I've seen this often enough to know what it is, and the hospice nurse confirmed it. His daughter put a play list of his favorite music on his iPhone and we let it run continuously. Sometimes, lying there, seemingly 'out of it,' he would raise a hand into the air to conduct the orchestra, which is something he always did. I found this rather embarrassing when we were at a concert because he would wave both hands rather vigorously and people around us would glance over to see what all the commotion was about!
After a long week with him, his second daughter arrived from the east coast. On Friday afternoon I left the daughters to be with him. I went to lunch with local friends, and in the afternoon my dear friends from the Napa Valley drove over to be with me. We ate dinner at our favorite watering hole, I drank a Manhattan in honor of Steve (his favorite cocktail) and we reminisced all through dinner. Afterward we repaired to their hotel where I spent the night with them.
The phone rang at 5:00 in the morning. I knew what that meant.
Now I am home. There is so much to process. The enormity of all that happened last week sneaks up on me and I am utterly reduced to a bottomless pit of sadness. Sometimes I can't even believe what has transpired.
For now, dear reader, I will share some fun pictures that remind me that Steve and I lived a wonderful life for a very short time, and that we laughed our assess off. Frequently. Loudly. As it should be.
And I did. And it was very, very good. We held hands, spoke words of love and forgiveness, and one day took a nap together in the hospital bed, cuddled together, and he managed to squeak out one word, "Nice."
Three days after I arrived he began to transition out of this life. I've seen this often enough to know what it is, and the hospice nurse confirmed it. His daughter put a play list of his favorite music on his iPhone and we let it run continuously. Sometimes, lying there, seemingly 'out of it,' he would raise a hand into the air to conduct the orchestra, which is something he always did. I found this rather embarrassing when we were at a concert because he would wave both hands rather vigorously and people around us would glance over to see what all the commotion was about!
After a long week with him, his second daughter arrived from the east coast. On Friday afternoon I left the daughters to be with him. I went to lunch with local friends, and in the afternoon my dear friends from the Napa Valley drove over to be with me. We ate dinner at our favorite watering hole, I drank a Manhattan in honor of Steve (his favorite cocktail) and we reminisced all through dinner. Afterward we repaired to their hotel where I spent the night with them.
The phone rang at 5:00 in the morning. I knew what that meant.
Now I am home. There is so much to process. The enormity of all that happened last week sneaks up on me and I am utterly reduced to a bottomless pit of sadness. Sometimes I can't even believe what has transpired.
For now, dear reader, I will share some fun pictures that remind me that Steve and I lived a wonderful life for a very short time, and that we laughed our assess off. Frequently. Loudly. As it should be.
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