Monday Musings

I watched an excellent movie:  Echo in the Canyon.  The musical goings on in 1965 through 67 in Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles.  If you were influenced by Buffalo Springfield, The Mamas and the Papas, The Byrds, The Beach Boys, this movie is for  you.  Jakob Dylan produced the movie and does the interviews with Jackson Browne, Brian Wilson, Steven Stills, Michelle Phillips, Eric Clapton, Roger McGuinn, and David Crosby.  Mr. Dylan produced a concert featuring current musical artists singing all the old folk/rock songs.  Funny thing, this movie really changed my perception of the Beach Boys.  I won't give away why, but watch it yourself and see.  It was also very nice to get out of the house, be on my own for the afternoon.

I had brunch with Dad, Mom and Sister for Father's Day.  We ate upstairs, though Dad is  really bored with the standard Sunday buffet fare.  Far easier, however, than getting out to a restaurant!    This is one of my favorite photos of Dad and me, and it was taken about 7 or 8 years ago when we were at a baseball game, which we used to go to often.

We had recently moved to Sacramento, and Mom was barely mobile at that point (after her second hip break) so Dad and I would go to the games.  

I'm not a huge fan of organized sports, but I'd go for him, and the pork sliders and the $2 beer.  Good times.

The things we do for those we love, eh?

I've been doing a lot for my husband over the years -- all the mundane but necessary tasks to keep hearth, home and health in good shape.  He did a lot for me as well. I shared this life with someone who enjoyed many of the same things I enjoyed, and whose values aligned with mine.  Who is smart, and funny.

He gave me a life that was comfortable and financially secure -- for the first time in my adult life I wasn't living paycheck to paycheck.  It was a welcomed relief. Sure, he has his quirks, but do I.  Welcome to the human race! I thought we had a good life.  I thought I had found my forever partner.  We had each other to rely on.  Now? Not so much. 

I turn once again to Pema Chodron for some good heart advice. 

“If someone comes along and shoots an arrow into your heart, it’s fruitless to stand there and yell at the person. It would be much better to turn your attention to the fact that there’s an arrow in your heart.” 

 And here I am.  Paying attention to my heart.

TGIF

I had my birthday on Monday this week.  I got a few sweet birthday cards, and many Facebook posts wishing me good things.  I planned on not making a big deal about the day -- I was happy, content to let the day unfold quietly, perhaps a dinner out with my husband.

Now, however, it is a day that will live in infamy, and will color a few birthdays to come, for as implausible as it seems, I was informed by my husband that he thought we should "split." 

What?!  

He was dead serious, and the conversation he started came in fits and starts, him try to find the right words.  He was clearly agonizing about it.  I was asking questions to draw out of him what he wanted to say -- slow, careful questions to probe what could be going on.  I told him to be brave and say what he obviously very much needed to say.

Need I say I saw stars before my eyes from the virtual bomb that was dropped in my living room, on the white sofa, surrounded by houseplants and my beloved dogs?  My chest was feeling crushed, and I could not think straight.  What do you do when something catastrophic is unceremoniously dropped into your lap on a day that you expected to celebrate your 62nd birthday? 

I have two surgeries coming up (thyroid and stomach) in the next two months, so I asked him for time and he agreed.  We are living amicably.  We have dedicated ourselves not to fight.  I will get through this.  After my initial grave upset, I am remarkably calm now.  I'm focused on my medical procedures, staying healthy as I can, and talking with friends.  It's a strange in-between state....

He may change his mind when reality reaches him.  Will I?

A definite WTF moment in my life.  I thought I'd seen it all.  I'm planting a flag on June 10, 2019.  Could be a big turning point.

It's awkward to say out loud, to post on my blog.  You may feel awkward reading it.  There is no need to comment, really.  This is the place I write about my life, so I decided to write about even this painful piece of it.

I am supported by friends and it has been a great consolation.  I am surrounded by people who love me and care about me.  I always look for the opportunities that crises can bring.  I've got a therapist and a wealth of inner resources.  This ain't my first rodeo.

A Spark, a flare,
A fire rises in the air.
The heat. the smoke,
Our eyes water and We choke.

The flames spread,
And Our houses, Our memories,
Burn, burn to the ground.

Trees dead,
Our home wreathed in flame.
Burns till there is naught but ash.

We cry and cry,
And curse Our gods.
Our tears put out the flames.

When all is quiet,
And stillness takes hold,
A new fire is kindled.

A fire of grace,
And of love.
A fire We all share.

And from the ashes We rise.
To rebuild Our memories and Our home,
A fire inside ignites.

From the ashes We rise.
To not search for hope for Ourselves,
But create it for all those We love and cherish.

From destruction,
We find mercy.
From despair,
We find strength.

From grief,
We build happiness
From guilt,
We build love.

From all that was lost,
We Find all there is to gain.

From the ashes of the flames,
From the ashes of the fear,
From the ashes of the past,

From the ashes We rise.

Author unknown.

Monday Musings

Oct 2012

This is a photo of me taken in 2012. I weighed 146 lbs, representing a 109 lbs loss since my Lap Band surgery in 2006.  I lost the bulk of it in a couple of years, then stalled for a couple of years.  Then came my divorce and the stress diet.  That dropped me 25 lbs to my goal weight.

Over the years, the weight has slowly crept back on.  Then, this January I had my Lap Band removed because is slipped and was no longer effective.  I really went hog wild after its removal, gaining 18 lbs in six months!  I lost all sense, and all control.  It felt so good to eat a 'normal' sized dinner.  And when we moved into the Big House last year, I let the desserts tempt me.  Everyone here jokes about the 10 lbs weight gain that comes with fine dining here.

The plan after the removal of the band was to have another surgery, this time either a gastric sleeve or a RYN by-pass.  I've chosen the sleeve since I take aspirin for my heart, and the by-pass demands no aspirin, ibuprofen whatsoever as they cause bleeding ulcers for people with that procedure.  Since I must take daily aspirin for my heart, that's a no-go. I've been working with a Bariatric Surgery Group at UC Davis and it's been a good program combining nutritionists, support groups, psychological therapy and top-notch surgeons.

I'm one of those unlucky people that really does have to be very conscientious about my food in-take. I took a holiday from that watchfulness and the result is not good.  One of my biggest hurdles after the next weight loss is learning how to keep it off and not let the pound creep happen.

For people who can eat without close scrutiny of their food choices and portion sizes, and who don't gain excess weight, these surgical options must seem terribly risky.  Why not just diet?  For most people, and for me, long-term success doesn't come with dieting.  I've discovered interesting factoids when looking into surgery again:  obese people tend to have little or no gut bacteria.  GB is restored after surgery - it's wild, but it's true.  I have no GB.  None. Zilch. The presence of GB has enormous consequences to overall health.  Weight loss surgery (WLS) also allows a person to jump start a new way of eating with very few hunger issues.  With my lap band, I had to remind myself to eat on schedule because I wasn't hungry at all.  The same will be true with the new surgery.  That effect will last for a few months and eventually hunger will return.  Then it's up to me to make thoughtful food choices.  I have spent my entire adult life on various weight loss programs, the lap band being the last one and the longest lasting.

I had my final pre-surgery nutritionist visit today and she was not very encouraging.  I took the written test (again) and I was coming up blank on questions such as "How much protein is in 1 oz. of chicken?"  Another was what specific vitamins in the multi-vitamin are critical.  B6 I said, instead of the real answer which is B12.  And do you know I did really know and mean "12?"  I was just so nervous and operating on 4 hours of sleep.  I felt like a dolt.  The good news was I've lost ONE POUND and that's after 3 weeks of meticulous record keeping and staying at 1200 calories (or under) a day.  So, the nutritionist, the psychologist and the surgeon all meet on Thursdays to evaluate cases and assign a surgery date if they believe the patient is ready.  If the decide I am not ready, I'll have to deal with it, keep on doing what I've been doing and tell them I don't test well.  That's why I keep records and my informational book at the ready.

So, feeling down in the dumps today, except that it is my birthday and I've been receiving well wishes from people far and wide.  That's been great fun!  We take the bad with the good, don't we? 

Cross your fingers for my surgery date!

TGIF

Ode To Tomatoes by Pablo Neruda.      

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

Wordless Wednesday

Normandy, France

Wordless Wednesday - Home of Claude Monet

Monday Musings

Driving in France was a bit of a nightmare.  Who am I kidding?  It was a mega-fucked-up-nightmare.

First part of the nightmare: the GPS was impossible to use.  We had a quick lesson at the car rental place; our guy set up it to be in English and set our destination for the first leg of our trip, and off we went.  We successfully arrived in Chartres, about 45 minutes from Versailles where we had been staying.  After a lovely visit to the Cathedral, we went in search of our hotel,   We tried to put in the address on the GPS.  No can do.  Complete mystery on how this thing is supposed to work.  So we used my cell phone GPS.

We pulled out and into the flow of this city of 39,000 souls. Phone GPS is not doing us much good and I was getting frustrated and anxious.  Cars are whipping by us and there were several close cars.  We get to an intersection and I'm shouting at Steve, "Where do I go? Where do I GO?!"  He says, "That way! Follow that car!" and so I did, right down into an underground garage.  Well, hells bells.  We pull our ticket since there's no place to turn around or back out.  We got through the garage in 30 seconds to the exit.  We insert our ticket and the machine says we owe 2 euro.  I press the "help" button, which is never what you should do, especially when you don't know the language.  We are attempting to explain to the attendant that we didn't park and could they please lift the gate so we could get out.  "Sorry, madame.  You must pay."  "But I didn't park here!  I literally entered thirty seconds ago!"  I think I was yelling.  "I am sorry, madame,  You must pay."  So, okay, fuck it, we'll pay.  But how?  I can't figure out the machine.  It won't take cash, and it's rejecting my credit card.

Meanwhile, cars are piling up behind us, honking their horns and shouting at us.   I'm banging on the steering wheel, sticking my hands out the window in wild gestures.  Steve is distressed, but he cannot help.  FUCK MY LIFE.  I insert my credit card one more time, and for some unknown reason, this time it works and the gate lifts blithely up.  I can hardly believe it.  I hit the gas and we burn rubber out of there.  I have just made many enemies in Chartres.  Stupid American tourist.

Looking at our Hotel from the plaza

I'm shaking, I'm crying, and Steve's telling me to pull myself together, but all I want to do is pull over and sob.  We stop and ask directions and are given some vague "oh, it's over there" kind of answer.  We go over there.  Nothing.  I force Steve out of the car to go into a little hotel to ask for directions.  He gets the same kind of answer except they point in the direction of where we just came from.  So off we go in the opposite direction.  We're driving around and by some miracle I see it!  I let Steve out so he may go in and inquire as to parking.  He comes out and points to a garage.  We drive into the garage and wind up in a completely dark, as in NO LIGHTING WHATSOEVER, underground garage that looks as if only Smart Cars can fit into.  Nevertheless, we park and struggle through the darkness to the light coming from above.  We check into the hotel and ask about the strange parking and we are told we have parked in the wrong garage.  May I say it again?  FUCK MY LIFE.  I'm tired, I'm an emotional wreck, and all I want to do is collapse on the floor and scream.  But instead, we follow the hotel staff to the garage and he says "oh, I see.  You went straight down.  We said to go straight in."  So, I back the car out (it was the only way) and up the steep drive into the light.  A grand feat, let me tell you.  Steve asks why in the hell did I back out.  I give him the death stare.  If I hadn't backed out, there was no way I could have made the sharp turn into the driveway I was supposed to be in.  So, I parked.

Chartres Cathedral across the plaza from the hotel

We make it to our room and deposit our suitcases.  Then we hightail it to the bar downstairs where I ordered, and drank, a double scotch in record time.  We then decide to wander outside to get a look around.  We stepped out the front door and looked across the plaza, and there, in all her majesty, was the cathedral we had just come from.  We could have freaking walked to the hotel from where we were.

Our notre cauchemar was over, we had been delivered somehow, and my brain to this day cannot comprehend how in the hell we drove all over that city in search of Le Bouef Couronne.  We had a grand dinner that night and got the hell out of there in the morning, on our way to Mont Saint Michel, where, unbeknownst to us at the time, a new road hell awaited.

I'll save that story for next Monday.  I'm completely done in -- again.

Wordless Wednesday

Giverny House Garden

Monday Musings

We had a wonderful three-week trip to France, traveling all over the north, from Strasbourg in the east, to Mont Saint Michel in the west, and most points in between.  It was a challenging itinerary but I wanted to see many new places and grab hold of France while we can.

We spent time with friends outside of Strasbourg, outside the tiny village of La Petite Pierre.  Such generous and kind friends, we celebrated Easter with them and their extended family.  We traveled the area (near the German border) seeing the sites and visiting castles and other villages.  We spent a day in Strasbourg touring the old city.  It was difficult to leave such friendship and comfort, but after five nights we did.

It was a grand trip that ended up with eleven days in Paris.  One week in the apartment of a friend, and five days in a nice little hotel.  From Paris we traveled to Giverny, home of Monet.  The gardens were a marvel and so was the house.  Both completely restored after falling into ruin.  Old photographs were used to bring the property back to it's former glory.

It's only been in the last couple of days that I can feel the jet-lag disappearing.

Too many impressions and experiences to capture right here, right now.  Perhaps later.  We did what we wanted to do, and despite our poor health, we did it brilliantly.  We paced ourselves and rested when we needed to.  I have a hard time believing I climbed endless stairs on the island of Mont Saint Michel.  Those were some wicked-ass steep stairs, and we did it.  Huffing and puffing and resting at each landing, but we did it.  (A testament to motivation.) An experience of a life-time.  We stayed two glorious nights there.

photo not mine

Now we are back into the routine of this place and wondering if we were ever really gone, or was it just a dream?  I've got the photos to prove we were there.  So that settles it.

Today is my mother's 84th birthday.  She's lived for 25 years with Parkinson's and she's dependent on the family and caregivers for her every need.  But, when her mind is not foggy, she is here with us, and she likes a good laugh.  She is fading away very slowly, and it stinks.  But it's what we deal with and we're mostly doing okay.  We had dinner with her and Dad (87) and we gave her a large bouquet of yellow flowers: lilies, sunflowers and daises.   She smiled broadly.  It was a good birthday.

And so, goodnight.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday