Goodbye 2017

What a year this has been!

It started out hard and got harder, yet it has ended up as one of the best years yet. So many years in the past were difficult in ways that made this year's hard seem like nothing even though it was life threatening.

I managed to turn my health around in ways I never dreamed were possible, but appear to be manageable as long as I don't give up.

My social life is richer and fuller and so different than I ever imagined it.

I spent today with two people I love very much and I feel so fulfilled.

Tonight I broke all the dieting and healthy rules, but for some reason this holiday felt worth that and I know in the morning I will start the new year out in the best of ways.

The fireworks are starting outside. The weather is frigid. The cat has disappeared. I have drawn a picture, am writing My Thots and life is good.

Reality

I have struggled with the concept of reality all my life.

What is it? How does it work? Where are the boundaries between wishful thinking, persistence, hard work, luck, fate, bad luck, and cold hard science?

How much of my life is really in my hands?

Intellect tells me it is about fifty fifty. If I work hard, do the right things, then life will be as good as possible. The laws of science say gravity will keep me grounded, that I am made of the same substances that everything else on earth is made of, that I am subject to the same vagaries as all the other things on this earth. Fires, floods, droughts, wars, finances, health are not always within my control.

Experience tells me that I have more control than I dare to dream, or want to be responsible for (sometimes.) The positive part of this is that when I really want something badly enough, I often find a way to get it. The frightening part is that when I am lax, about the way I live, think, or not being honest with myself about what I really need to do in order to get what I want to achieve, I may be the biggest saboteur of me around.

When life is good I want all the credit. When it is not, I want someone,or something, to blame.

Yet I have the distinct feeling that my health, happiness, and general well being could be more than ninety percent dependent on me. My feelings belong to me. Everyone of them originates inside of me. Other people have influenced me and shaped me, but that doesn't mean what they said, or did, or do, is the absolute final truth. Feelings can be shaped and reshaped and I need to take both the responsibility and actual control of my own.

I am the creator of my own life. I may not be able to control the circumstances around me, but if I can control the circumstances inside me -- life is so much better.

It is a frightening thought to think I have so much power, but it is also a good feeling. Nothing is worse than feeling powerless, but with power comes responsibility. I am not a pawn in other people's lives. I am a living, breathing, creator of my own reality.

Good ideas

In a world that seems bent on suffering I am not a good candidate. I do not like suffering. In fact, I'm kind of a wuss. I enjoy comfort -- a lot.

I have friends who get up at the crack of dawn and go exercise at the Hospital Health Club. I don't know when they start, but they are finished well before 7 AM. The thought of spending my retirement getting up that early to drive somewhere for a class that everyone posts things about on Facebook that say: Really good class today, every muscle in my body hurts. Jane worked us hard today, I thought I was going to die twice. These are not my idea of good ideas.

I need to find things I enjoy if I am going to do them over and over for any extended period of time. I used to play tennis. I love tennis! Now I am so out of shape that playing tennis is pretty much limited to people like Bestest, who makes all kinds of allowances for me. But I can walk and now it is icy and snowy I decided to walk at different stores. Today I went to Eastland Mall and it was amazing.

I looked at clothes and still managed to walk over 2.5 miles averaging 21 minutes per mile. That's as good as I do trying to hoof it around the park and ten times more interesting right now.

The same goes for eating. I am eating a combination of some of my favorite foods. The only thing I am doing is limiting them to two meals, but they are filling and I feel really good.

For me, healthy is going to have to be enjoyable. I just don't have the will power, or desire, to keep up with anything else for the long haul.

Singing in the cold

Back in the salad again. Back where avocado's my friend. Where the romaine fills the bowl and the carrots are grated whole. Back in the salad again.

Two days back to be exact, but I put on a shocking amount of weight in three days. My clothes still fit, but my scale is groaning.

And the funny thing is, the soup was really good, the butter and rolls wonderful, and the truffles amazing, but my salad tonight really felt just as decadent.

I'm pulling out all the stops now.

I do not want to die in pieces by diabetes, or of a heart attack from clogged arteries and I really would prefer not to age at all, so I'm doing the best I know how.

Love and memories

I am not the kind of woman who really appreciates jewelry.

Most of the time.

However, I do have one great love. I love platinum, or white gold hoop earrings. I will wear them every single day, for every single event and the beauty of them is that they are both appropriate and beautiful for each and every one.

The disadvantage is that they are pricey, so when I lost one of my small platinum hoops this Fall, I was heartbroken.

But Bestest talked to Santa and he brought me a lovely pair of larger, perfect ones for Christmas. I'd told him not to, but nothing could have pleased me more.

Now I not only have a pair of earrings to wear all the time, they are earrings that came packed in love and memories of the bestest friend I've ever had.

Tradition

Tis the day before Christmas and all through the apartment, the smell of my chowder signals department. The sausage is vegetarian, the vegetables too, but the scent is reminiscent of things that are true.

There's love in the yeast rolls and that Irish butter pulls, all the heart strings that are necessary, to make us feel bold. The pie will be pumpkin, topped with whipped cream and my taste buds are already starting to scream.

The people are coming with presents tomorrow and with snow on the ground there can be no more sorrow.

We're jolly and happy and filled with true love.

Cause it's Christmas in Normal and it fits like a glove.

The Christmas Truffle

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
                                  Winston Churchill

Sometimes the highs are so high that I plummet off of them like a space shuttle hurtling back into earth's atmosphere.

After writing about surviving this holiday season so well, I crashed and burned tonight after buying truffles for Christmas Day. It was like I suspect an alcoholic must feel when there is beer in the house. Those little bags just sat on my counter calling to me like little lost souls begging to be eaten.

I ate just one. Not unreasonable. Then I ate two. I left them in the kitchen, so I had to go back for both of them, but the sack said a serving was three -- so why not finish off the serving? Right? And then, LET THE EATING BEGIN!

I had three or four more truffles, two pieces of sprouted grain toast with butter and yogurt blue cheese (because it was the only cheese in the house) and two fried eggs all times three! Then I had two more pieces of toast with butter and blue cheese. And finally my regular salad for the night minus the carrots, which, you know, saved me a ton of calories.

No doubt about it, sugar is my trigger.

Now I have to suck it up and start again tomorrow.

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. Winston Churchill
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/failure

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. Winston Churchill
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/failure

Feeling good

Five months of healthy eating is starting to change my life.

My weight has dropped noticeably. My blood pressure is down in the 127/60 area. I have so much energy it amazes even me.

I've made it through several birthdays, Thanksgiving and this holiday season in ways I am almost positive I can maintain.

It makes me feel really good about myself in so many ways.

Today I received the coat I ordered and it fits! It barely fits, but that's okay, because I intend to lose more weight, so there is room to grow -- in!

And tonight someone told me I looked fantastic!

I cannot tell you what that meant to me.

Amazing is

Christmas has been amazing this year and the only thing that is really different is me.

I am able to be happy, or at least satisfied, with things the way they are.

It is not what I have dreamed it could be. It is not what I once thought it should be. It is not even what many people would consider wonderful, but for me -- it is.

In a world constantly torn by nasty people I am surrounded by some of the best people in the world and the peace that brings is shockingly awesome.

Peace on earth is a nice thought, but it is a little too sweeping to be a real possibility. Peace in my life has turned out to be much more manageable.

I guess we have to start close with the hope that it will spread out like ripples in a pond, or sunlight on a lake. Some day it may reach the shore, or fill the depths, but for now it's a start.

I am amazed how simple that is.

Responsibility

Growing up and taking responsibility for yourself is never easy.

I have a grandchild with some special needs who is trying to live independently this year - without her sister or parents.

It means paying her own bills and rent, and riding the bus to get around town.

I am proud of her. She volunteers for the food pantry and has a bus pass and does a pretty good job most of the time.

Still, like all of us, she would find it easier if people would just pick her up and drive her where she needs to go. I've had to turn her down twice this week. Once because she let her bus pass expire and had no way to go pick up her new glasses. Then when she didn't allow herself enough time to get to the dentist.

It is never easy saying no, but she needs to learn how to plan ahead and deal with this sort of problem.

She figured out how to renew her bus pass and got her glasses the next day. I'm sure she will also figure out how to get to the dentist on time after today.

Growing up is hard, but it feels good knowing you can rely on yourself. It is my responsibility to give her the chance to do that now while the consequences are small.

Dream, dream, dream

I am just beginning to reap the benefits of eating healthier and one of the best is needing new clothes.

I don't want to spend much money until I get closer to my goal, but when I have to walk around with one hand holding up my pajama pants? Well, then it is time to make some small investments in sleepwear!

I have to admit I am spending hours looking at clothes online and sometimes in stores, dreaming of what I will wear in the future.

I have decided that I am only going to buy things I love from now on. It doesn't matter if it is underwear, or outerwear, if I don't love it, I don't want to pay for it.

I have been eying a coat for weeks now and today I had a chance to buy it for 65 percent off, so I did. I hope it fits, but if it is a little tight that is okay because I intend to lose more as time goes by and I really love this coat!

Other than that it is all still just dreams, but those are the things that keep me eating right and walking, so it is a good cycle to be in.

Step right up

Shoes have been on my mind today.

The high top white baby shoes I wore until I was four that my mother had to have specially made for me because she thought it would make my ankles stronger. Alas, I'm afraid they did just the opposite.

The beautiful and much wanted saddle shoes with black leather saddles and soft brushed black nylon toes that were all the rage sometime in fourth grade. My mother brought home a pair for both my sister and me and we thought we were the most stylish kids in school.

The Buster Brown penny loafers that we put real shiny pennies in. I felt so preppy in those.

My first spiked, two inch heels that my mother dyed and redyed to match different formal dresses.

The chunky high heeled, thick soled wing tips I wore freshman year of college.

My first real tennis shoes made by Dunlop in 1975. I felt like a real pro in those!

My first ugly red wing shoes to fit my orthotics.When I said they hurt my toes the salesman insisted they were fine. I just needed to get my ingrown toenail cut out. I did that and I wore those squeaky awful shoes until another salesman told me they were too short!

My first pair of Brooks athletic shoes that my daughter-in-law bought me in Denver for my birthday one year. I've worn Brooks ever since.

And finally the pair of dress shoes that held my orthotics and made it possible for me to dress up again.

Under

The real spirit of Christmas cannot be boxed, wrapped, or put underneath a tree.

I don't think it can even be measured, expected, or truly understood.

It is something that people often under rate until it is found, but that doesn't mean it isn't real.

I sometimes find it in the space under my heart and deep inside my head.

Bruno is bouncy, trouncy . . .

Five of us got together tonight to watch Home Alone.

Everyone brought something to share and everyone was forewarned that there was an overly exuberant puppy in the house.

I was picturing a roly poly puppy gamboling around the living room.

Bruno turned out to be a fourteen month old lab who leaped over the back of couches with a single bound, climbed over people without batting an eye and tore through the house like a tornado on speed. He did not, however, bother the food on the coffee table!

Until his owner attached him to his leash, which was attached to one part of a very heavy, very sturdy coffee table. He actually pulled the coffee table a few inches with him when he moved and then . . . well, it really wasn't his fault when he hooked one of the tv trays full of cookies and upended the whole thing.

But his soulful eyes and obvious desire to play and the most incredible joie de vivre I have ever experienced, made it impossible to be upset with him. He was trying, really trying, to be a good doggie and sit down. He just kept forgetting.

It was kind of like I imagine it might be spending the evening with Tigger. And we all know:

The wonderful thing about Tiggers

Is Tiggers are wonderful things!
Their tops are made out of rubber
Their bottoms are made out of springs!
They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy
Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun

Alone

I remember being with my grandma when I was eleven years old, nearly twelve. It had been a big year. My Aunt Jo bought me a bra for my birthday that year and unlike most little girls, who longed for that moment. I hated it.

We moved to a new house in the middle of sixth grade, which meant changing schools for the first time in my life. My mother told me I was getting too big to take baths with my brother and for the first time I began to feel very alone. Alone in the bathtub. Alone in the playroom where I decorated and redecorated an orange crate for my Barbie doll.

At night, when all my siblings were in bed, I sat on the floor while my mother sewed Barbie doll clothes for me. She made a wedding dress from white satin that was elegant and a pioneer dress from gingham that even had a bonnet. I played with the closet she made from a boot box. It had a place to hang all the clothes and even a dresser with drawers.

I had a friend I pretended to play with all the time that year. I guess I was pretty old for that, but it was so real that later in the year, when I was twelve, I thought I was pregnant by him. The only real time we had even spent together had been roller skating, but I thought I had been thinking about him so much that God thought we were married and had sent me a baby. I was so ashamed and terrified of what my mother would say.

But that time with my grandmother was when I knew that something had changed.

I was no longer little enough to think she was perfect. Now most of the things she did seemed foolish and embarrassing and I hated that. I wanted to go back to the way it was. I didn't want to grow up.

Growing up didn't seem to have any advantages as far as I could see. It was a messy uncomfortable process. I realized that everything changed. Everything could go away. Everyone could change or go away.

I felt very alone that year.

Photographs

I took two horrifying photos today. Both of them were right after I got out of the dentist, so I know I was wearing make-up, but I looked twenty years older.

I look twenty years older in both of them.

I took another one a few minutes ago, because with camera phones it is possible to take a picture every few seconds if one is so inclined. I looked like my old self again, not young, but not an old hag either.

I keep looking at these pictures. Is it possible that sitting in a dental chair, having work done by an excellent dentist with virtually no pain, or stressful feelings, can leave me looking like that?

It is the stuff of horror films. Dorian Me when the magic wears off. I will probably have nightmares about it tonight.

Not the dental work.

The pictures.

Rise again

Father Christmas lives in the eyes of children everywhere.

It is unconditional love.

Unswerving belief in possibility.

Unending hope.

Only when we entomb those children under the guise of growing up do those things cease to exist.

But they can rise again.

Especially at Christmas.

What a wonderful world

What is wrong with diversity?

In my family we have Native Americans, African Americans, people from Thailand, Catholics, Episcopalians, Baptists, Methodists, Republicans and Democrats. My great grandmother was Jewish.  Our family came from Germany, Scotland, Wales, the Americas and who knows where else.

What a wonderful world it would be if we could celebrate all of the holidays in honor of each other's gods, traditions and hopes.

I can't imagine a power great enough to create all this diversity being so petty that some of it was considered heresy. In most ways it all celebrates the same things in different ways.

The only reason not to do this is when it furthers some agenda that goes against equality, diversity, and love. Unfortunately for religion today it has become mostly a tool for controlling people instead of a way to honor the power that created them.

Nature sets a good example for us. There are all kinds of trees in the forest, all colors of puppies in litters, birds of every shape and size and even the land varies from lush tropical jungles to arid deserts. Only human beings seem bound and determined to make that a disadvantage. Everything else actually relies on it.

Not these cards!

I start thinking about Christmas cards way before Christmas. I look at them in the stores. I contemplate taking a picture for them. I usually try to get a picture that includes Annabel and I usually fail miserably at this.

This year I snapped a picture I thought was cute and unique, so the next day I quickly imported it and spent hours deciding how to frame it and which card stock with which words I wanted. Then I ordered forty of them with a half price coupon and waited to pick them up.

Normally enthralled by my decision, this year I was not. There was something not quite right about them, but I decided to use them because they were paid for. I carefully wrote on the back of one and set it aside to see if the ink would dry to be smear proof because I like to use a gel pen. A few days later I checked and it seemed fine, so I promptly wrote on all the others.

Yesterday I sat down to address envelopes and began stuffing the cards in, but half way through I noticed some of the ink was a little blurry and then I noticed that most of the cards left to stuff had ink smeared on the front of them! No way to know about the others without opening signed, sealed and some even stamped envelopes, so I did my best to fix the ones left. I discovered I could rub off the smeared ink on most of them and still send them, so I finished up. Late last night I had a stack of thirty two cards all ready to go except for buying more Christmas stamps.

I should have felt really happy, but I didn't. I felt like these cards had never been meant to be mailed.

So today I went to the post office very early. I bought one stamp for Germany and two cards of regular Christmas stamps. Then I went to the drug store and found some really sweet cards that happened to be on sale because it was so late.

I came home, put the crackling fire on the television, turned on the Christmas Music radio station, made a cup of coffee and sat down to rewrite my Christmas cards!

A modern world requires adaptation.

In these times

I have been profoundly aware of my good fortune lately.

I walk in this beautiful but freezing cold weather and thoughts assail me from every direction.

How lucky I am to live in a safe place where no one is bombing the streets.

How fortunate I am to have an apartment that is warm with a good bed and so much more.

How wonderful it is to be able to buy the food that I want to eat and is healthy for me.

It occurs to me that one of the signs that I am truly one of those blessed, for lack of another word, people who can not only afford very good shoes, but when they feel worn out to me, I can put the brand new insole I took out for my orthotics back into them and give them away knowing there are people in this world who will be glad to have them -- even this way.

I can pay my bills, read books that I love, decorate for the holidays, buy presents for Christmas, volunteer at a job I love, spend time with my daughter, talk with my son and Bestest, and send good thoughts to my other son.

In these times, or any times, these are bedrock pleasures.

The Horror Movie Diet

Nearly everyone I know is looking for the magic diet. The one where you can eat what you like, sit in front of the boob tube and lose weight.

All you have to do is:

Eat two eggs, a vegetarian sausage and a piece of sprouted grain toast with Irish butter for breakfast.

About seven o'clock every night start cruising Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, etc, looking for just the right ghost story, or if all else fails, horror movie, to watch. It can take up to half an hour. (But that's half an hour you are not eating!)

As soon as you find one, go chop up a whole heart of Romaine lettuce, a large avocado, a half cup of baked chick peas, two or three shredded carrots, and one bunch of green onions. Top this with a couple tablespoons of yogurt blue cheese dressing and voila!

Dine slowly and watch the movie. I've lost over sixty pounds this way. (But I have to let you in on a little secret. Somewhere along the line you will start feeling so good, you will want to get out and do more. You might even start walking, or playing tennis.)

Gusto

Everyone wants to be good at something.

Unfortunately some of us pick that something before we are old enough, or wise enough, to know what is really important.

Parents at Eighteen. Junkies at twenty. The funniest guy at the bar. The class clown. The fastest car on the road. The loudest motorcycle around. Even the most beautiful body in town.

All of these things and many others can seem like the ultimate goal at some point. Then time passes and the novelty wears off and we are stuck with a name tag that no longer lifts us up. It feels as hollow as it always really was.

The good news is that you can pick again - - and again and again and again. No one ever set a limit on reinventing yourself.

Edit out all the negative words (and people) then regroup, figure out how to begin your new adventure, and go forward with all the gusto you've got. Allow yourself to be fueled by the experiences, the knowledge and the love you have.

Radical realization

I spent the first half of my life learning how to hide my true colors, camouflage my real face, and move without stirring anything up.

It was constantly impressed upon me that my place in the world was to leave as little footprint as possible while making room for the "real" people, the wise guys and beautiful women to showcase who they were.

There was always that niggling thought that IF I could become rich enough, or beautiful enough, or smart enough, there might be room for me, but to be careful, because there was a bigger chance of embarrassing myself than achieving that.

It has taken me a lifetime to finally see that I am everything I need to be and more and the only problem is me grabbing hold of that and going with it.  It almost seems too late for such a radical realization.

But it's not.

A little bit of magic

In a world where confrontations are becoming the norm, I know someone who not only believes, but practices kindness.

Imagine putting on your headphones, turning up your music and running. Suddenly someone starts jumping up and down, waving their arms and shouting at you.

Most of us might either ignore this person, or yell back, but what if you stopped, asked him to stop yelling at you and struggled to have a civil conversation? (That happened and everything was peacefully resolved.)

The world does not have to be divided into people who are pushovers and people who are brash and rude. A little bit of simple common sense and courtesy, a bit of giving others the benefit of the doubt and a hearty dose of kindness could perform minor miracles.

Imagine a world where kindness was the norm. I know at least one person who practices that belief. It doesn't require years of training, or tons of money. It doesn't even require you to believe the same things. It just opens the door to a better world with more possibilities.

Learn to be straightforward and kind.

Kindness is the new magic word.

The greatest power

There comes a time when the blessings flow like water upon the desert and the fruit of that water is the garden, a beauty so deep and so profound that it is invisible to all but the wisest eyes.

To see with the eyes of the child and the heart of the wise men is a gift that cannot be given.

The greatest power in the world is kindness. It is the only path to peace, the only true light, and the one who bears it is called a son of God. A child of God. A daughter of God.

So simple.

So rare in its purest form.

So misunderstood.

Meetup mindfulness

I joined a meetup group for women a year ago last August and I cannot say how well this works for me.

They have about fifty people in the group and five meetings a month that vary from coffees, to brunches, book clubs, game nights, cocktail hour and dinner out. Most events are limited to 6-8 people so that it accommodates the place it is held. Sometimes it is in a home, but usually it is a place of business like a coffee shop, restaurant, or bookstore.

The women in this group range from mid twenties to my age with most of them being in the early to mid forties. They are independent, fun people who approach life with a gusto, sincerity, and a joy that makes me happy.

I have always been reluctant to join groups. Generally I find them laborious to maintain and tedious after a while, but not this one. There is a spontaneity here that keeps it simple and fun. Somehow this group attracts like minds and souls. Most of the women are professionals or teachers of some sort who just enjoy the company of other women occasionally and can be relied upon to show up and do what they commit to.

The sweetest time

I lost half of a very nice pair of earrings last week, so I was going through my jewelry box trying to decide what to wear when I came across a locket. Inside were two pictures from 1972 and they reminded me of how the biggest portion of my life began.

I fell in love with a man who asked me to go to the park with him and see what ducks do in the rain. For the next ten years we played tennis and backgammon and bridge. We knitted sweaters together. We were in charge of our church's youth group and rode bicycles with them, camped with them, spent lock ins at the church with them (and our little dog, Ninna.)

We studied together, worked together, shared his big recliner while we watched television and for the most part felt like we were the neighborhood "Joneses." Life was so good.

Then we found a way to make our dearest dream come true, or at least that is what I believed, and we set out to add children to our perfect family, but it turned out to be the beginning of the end. It was an end that took nearly thirty years to come to a head, but it was still the end.

We had wildly different ideas of family and children and how love can be apportioned. It is sadly amazing how that changed everything. By the time we ended our marriage I had really forgotten how sweet it was in the beginning, but there was that sweet time.


And it was very good.

I can't hear the music

As I was walking my mile around the park today, counting squirrels, I was musing over the things that seem to make people happy, or at least make them feel like they are happy.

It began when someone posted a video on Facebook of a woman older than me dancing at the end of an aisle at a liquor store. That video made this person wildly happy, or so she said. It did not do that for me. I wondered if the woman had already been imbibing, or if she was so lonely and desperate for attention she felt compelled to do this strange thing?

Then my mind wandered to the young men toting a bag of ice and a shiny beer keg up to a house. Where do we get this idea that doing crazy things like drinking until we throw up, or pass out, or lose control of our bowels, is fun and cool and makes us part of the "IN" crowd? Who else is in this "IN" crowd and how does this behavior make their life better? Or perhaps, why do they believe it is fun?  It's like people who jump up and down shouting, "Who hoo!" at concerts. I can't hear the music doing that. I really don't understand.

I think we foster a lot of wrong ideas in our society and people who don't think simply grab hold of them for dear life hoping it makes them that elusive something they want to be. Actually finding out what adds to the quality of my own life, what makes me happier in the long run, what makes my heart warm and my mind joyful feels like a wiser choice. I suppose that is different for everyone.

By the way, I counted eleven squirrels on this insanely beautiful brisk Fall walk around the park.

We the people

In theory our country was founded on the idea that all men are created equal and yet it doesn't look like that was actually the truth.

As soon as we had politicians some of them became our surrogate royalty. Men who believed they were entitled to special treatment and entitlements other men and women were not. Right behind them were all the other people with money. They were the rest of our royalty, people who could pay their way into, or out of, a new morality.

Of course this was justified by "truths" that said African Americans, women, and various and sundry immigrants were really children, or incompetent, or incapable of handling actual equality.

People have the right to own their own body and expect others to leave that body alone. I don't believe any religion has the right to dictate the laws, but the idea that we should treat others the way we want to be treated is not a bad idea. Too many people have a double standard and too many other people know this and simply turn a blind eye.

You can't say all people are created equal and then treat some of them like chattel.

Living the dream

We often spend the first thirty odd years of our lives living a dream.

We think we know what we want. We think we know what is possible. We think we know who we are. We even think these same things about the people around us.

And then -- at some point we wake up and find out who we really are and sometimes discover we are so different from the people around us that we don't even speak the same language.

It's hard to talk things over, work things out, continue on . . . when the words don't reflect the same feelings . . . the actions no longer mean the same things . . . the dreams can turn into nightmares that have nothing to do with reality . . . and we find ourselves at sea.

Lost for words and dreams and hope, that is the time to move gently apart and reassess who we actually are. It is time to start over.

Starting over does not mean erasing the past, it means incorporating it into the reality of now and once that is done, the real dream starts.

Older, wiser, and more understanding.

Full of myself

I am often intrigued by other people's thoughts and dreams, but last night it is my own that I find fascinating.

I dreamed that I was given a box of very fancy clothing to wear to a formal ball. I dressed in a long blue gown and a full length wool coat, then left with two other women to drive there in a small shiny red car. Our three husbands wore tuxedos and also drove together, but they went in a small gold limo.

Once there we parked, went in, and hung our coats on some hooks right inside the door. Then we began to walk through. It was room after room of rows of chairs set up on both sides of a center aisle. The people were all dressed to the nines. The rooms were very elegant. One room was all women with blue ostrich feathers in their hair singing in a chorus. The people were all very full of themselves and slightly pompous. After a while I wanted to go home, but I couldn't remember what the women I came with looked like, or where we parked the car, or even where my coats was.

And what sparked this dream?

I think having to charge over three thousand dollars on my credit card made me feel rich.

Bionic Woman

When my daughter was little one of her favorite shows was the bionic woman.

I remember thinking what a miraculous idea it was to be able to fix body parts that way, but as I grow older I realize that parts of me are all headed that way.

I am already laying the groundwork, by having bits and pieces removed.

During the last thirty years I have lost my tonsils, adenoids, gall bladder, ovaries, uterus, appendix, fallopian tubes, and parts of two toenails.

I had cataracts removed and fake lenses placed in my eyes about three years ago.

My baby tooth fell out this summer and now I have a fake one in its place! It looks real, feels real, needs care like a real one -- but it's not.

I may be on my way to being a bionic woman -- if I live long enough.

Live, love and laugh

Drama.

Families seem to thrive on it.

People with boring lives appear to look for it.

I don't need it and I don't want it.

My life is interesting without manufacturing any extraneous stuff at all.

I like managing my own life myself. That gives me just about all the challenges I need. By the time I get all my ducks in a row, there is absolutely no reason to go out hunting more.

One of the things I love about most of the women I meet in Women, Wine and Words, is their independence, their strength, their belief in themselves and their lack of desire to meddle.

I think drama is for people who are looking for others floundering like they are.

Brutal

Love can be brutal.

Really loving myself is not all bubble baths and beautiful clothes. It is not all steak dinners and hot fudge sundaes either.

Sometimes true love is eating green beans and avocados. It is eating eggs without salt and not drinking tea. It is giving up ice cream and spending an extra ten minutes picking, brushing and flossing my teeth before gargling with Listerine.

It is even hoofing it around the park ten minutes longer than is fun to get in some more exercise for my heart, because all the love in the world cannot live in a dying body or broken heart.

Loving me means learning to like who I am right now enough to take care of me and changing the things I need to change to keep me feeling good about myself. It can even mean not being with people who make me feel bad about myself.

Love is real. Not some storybook idea of hearts and flowers (although those could be there too!)

Happy Birthday

Having a birthday near, or sometimes even on, Thanksgiving is fun. I almost never had to go to school on my birthday as a child, and I almost always get to have a party with whoever I spend Thanksgiving with now that I am older.

I have a habit of trying to have some kind of plan to make the day special all on my own. It is one of those just in case things from the days when I had to bake my own birthday cake and help the kids make presents for me.

But I don't need those plans anymore. My sister and Bestest go out of their way to make sure it is a special day for me and I heard from so many dear friends in so many different ways that I feel very much loved and appreciated.

The universe seems to be smiling on me and I am so grateful.

The Best Collaborative Thanksgiving Ever

Our family had their Thanksgiving dinner today, on Black Friday, which eliminated the desire, or need, to go trample people and spend money.

Instead, we all met at my sister's house, because it is right in the middle between all of our houses and she was willing to host it.

Everyone brought something to share, pumpkin pies, homemade noodles, elegant dips, ham, turkey, homemade rolls. My sister bought the rest and I made stuffing, a green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, and opened the cranberry jelly.

Everyone got there early too, so some people set the table. Others carried out trash. Some poured drinks. It was the best collaborative Thanksgiving ever! And we even celebrated my birthday, which is really tomorrow.

My sister's little house was crammed to the ceiling with people and love.

Other people

Our family is celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow, so today I am entertaining myself.

At first I found myself a bit defensive. I was afraid people might think I was lonely, or feel sorry for me because I was Home Alone! I took a walk around the neighborhood just to see what anyone else might be doing.

There was a couple sitting in their camper (in their garage!) having coffee and waving at me. There was a lone car at the park that evidently brought the person swinging on the swings with great gusto! There was a squirrel making his first foray into a large fluffy couch someone had placed by the dumpster. And Annabel was at home playing with the Christmas ornaments I left in the box on the bed.

How lucky we all are to be able to just do what we want today.

It would be a shame to waste that worrying about what other people think.

Up for grabs

When I was a child people created the world around me and I had to live in it.

Sometimes it was magical. Sometimes it was terrifying. Often it was confusing.

When I became an adult I thought that was the way things worked and sometimes it is.

But I discovered that adults have a lot more options than children do, or at least I do.

I have the ability, and the responsibility, to make my world a lot safer, more interesting, more creative and more fun than I did as a child.

There are very few absolutes in my world now. I have to pay my bills and my rent, but the rest is pretty much up for grabs.

And I'm grabbing for the things that make me feel good about life.

Fresh

Once in a while life steps up and says, "Whoops, it's time to change things up."

I think I am in control, but that's never really true.

I read about people who lived their whole lives with two dresses, one pair of earrings, the same house, an attic full of hand me down furniture and I wonder how they did it.

I would look like an ad for Ragbag Sally.

About every five years I lose one of my favorite earrings and about seventy pounds of fat. In 2010 I lost everything I owned that didn't fit in my Honda Accord. I have moved to a new favorite place four times in the last seven years and bought my Haviland china at Goodwill.

The only thing that stays the same are my children and best friends. I even lost my husband after thirty years.

And it's not a bad way to live!

It keeps everything pertinent and fresh.

Elephants and poodles and horses, oh my

My girl friends are all dreaming of horses and poodles. It seems they want to feel themselves as free as the wind flying over fields, or dripping in diamonds and pearls with well coifed pups in their laps.

I am nine years old and I am dreaming of elephants.

Not real elephants, but a huge mechanical one!

I want a full sized elephant that looks and feels real, but is not. He will have two handles over his ears that I can alternately pull to make him go and he will be hollow inside.

My whole family will ride high up on top on a big rug where we are safe from everything in the world. Inside it we will store food and whatever we need to live.

I know as long as we are together and on this elephant it won't matter where we are.

Memories

It is a dark and chilly night, but the inside of our big old 1953 DeSoto is warm and cozy.

I am sitting in the back seat, right behind my Daddy, who is driving. Next to me are my younger brother and sister, leaning against each other and sound asleep. My baby brother is slumped in his car seat between Mommy and Daddy. His head rests on the car seat steering wheel and I wonder if he will hit the horn and wake himself up.

The radio is playing soft jazz and I am wrapped in a haze of Chesterfield smoke. Most of it goes out the vent of Daddy's window, but some of it floats over all of us like incense. Sometimes he throws the butt out the vent and I watch the flash of fire that sweeps down the side of our car, past my window and onto the shoulder of the road. There is something almost magical about it.

I love this feeling of being all together, snug and warm, super secure and safe.

Gratitude right now

Once upon a time I though fifty was pretty much the end of the line and if it wasn't, then surely sixty was. Now I realize how grateful I am for all the people I have met since then.

I don't know if it was something that changed in me, or if I just got lucky, but some of the most wonderful people in my world showed up way past the time when I thought life was pretty much cut, dried, and set.

The quality of my life is so wonderful that if I had any regrets it would mostly be that I took so long to reach this stage.

All those things I thought were wrong with me turned out to be who I really am and that is fine when I hang out with the right people.

My wish for everyone is that they find the joy of being them.

Gratitude II

Life is very comfortable right now in spite of the fact that all my money, and then some, is spoken for for the foreseeable future. Except for money I have everything I need and there is a lot to be grateful for in that.

So . . . to pick the next thing is not easy, but I think it is the adventures I've had over the past sixty odd years.

I ached for adventure as a child. Everything that happened felt like it might be the door to some magical place: that field of kittens where my mother said my cat got her babies, the smell of new wood that signified my Dad was building something new in the basement, the sunny day that just begged to take me somewhere special. And yet my world was so restricted that even getting to explore the tree filled hill in the park was exciting. My mother was afraid of everything hurting us. I didn't get to go to museums until I could take myself and I wasn't even allowed to cross the street, or go around the block without permission until I was ten.

But once I was twelve I had the opportunity to ride my bicycle, or take a bus and explore our city. I spent hours wandering in the old Illinois State Museum and library. For the first time I had as many books as I wanted to read. Life was good. Then we moved to a tiny town and I explored the Tom Sawyer side of myself, turning the old chicken house in the back yard into a club house, hollowing out an old book to hide the copious number of pages I wrote creating adventures of the mind.

I went away to college and began my adventure into far east art and meditation. I got a little daring and ended up spending the night in a car in the middle of an icy country winter. I joined groups of my peers singing and dancing and drinking. I negotiated my own life for the first time ever.

I suffered incredibly painful losses when my parents died and magnificent miracles when each of my three children came into my life.

The middle ages were filled with traveling in the only way I could manage it. Camping. I dragged my children across the country to see all the things I'd read about and tried to do things to broaden both my and their views of the world.

Post divorce I began my flying adventures, learning to get around the Bay area on Bart, or walking. Spending hours exploring San Francisco with my oldest son, or alone. Happening on ponds overflowing with basking turtles in parks, eating in Zen restaurants, meeting teachers in the most unlikely places. The constraints of my childhood were violated in every way. I was free.

Then I met Bestest and learned about the joys of traveling and playing and doing research in university archives. I began to taste the thrill of seeing words I had worked on turned into books that were actually in those libraries I dreamed of as a young child.

I could write books on the adventures in my life and I am grateful for every one of them, both good and bad.

Thanksgiving

The world is either raging or talking about gratitude right now. I understand both. I realize I cannot ignore the reasons people are raging, but I also know the simple act of doing that will not improve my life, or really anyone elses. So, I have decided to write about gratitude.

Trying to think about gratitude at its most basic core is difficult. Maybe gratitude is not supposed to be ranked, or sectioned off, but some things evoke stronger feelings than others and . . . I have to start somewhere.

I think that perhaps the thing I am most grateful for is my past and the fact that I remember so much of it from such an early age.

I believe these are actual memories because of the angle I remember them. Some of them precede my second birthday and move on from there.

My life reminds me of a turtle living without its shell. The joys and pain of situations never felt insulated to me growing up. I picked up on my feelings and my mother's with all of the fervor of a child who began thinking quite early.

I like to think I learn from this gift of remembering and don't just suffer from it. I know that I am not some bacteria in a petri dish being helplessly subjected to living.

I have the ability to direct, if not always control, most things that happen to me and that comes from years of trial and error.

I am grateful I remember all these adventures.

No Internet

Today my Internet was out all day long.

I love to read, but not being able to connect with friends and family online felt terribly confining. I could not send happy birthday pictures and greetings. I could not express my condolences for deaths. I did not get to see the new babies, the birthday parties, the funny comments and photographs of people who have always been a part of my family and friends who I have grown to know over the last nine years.

I could not write this blog, or see my friend's beautiful flowers. I could not participate in the black and white photo fun, or play Words with Friends.

I also could not go work in the school library because my foot was hurting and that meant no shopping, online, or off.

So I spent hours and hours and hours, stuck in a chair reading. No snacking because that is not part of my  lifestyle anymore. No playing with the dollhouse, because that requires standing. No taking a walk.

My phone stopped working for about two hours too and that was almost more than I could bear. I am a thoroughly modern gramma who needs her Internet connection, texting, and phone!

The importance of R

Routines are important to human beings.

We step into them, fall into them, choose them and become addicted to them without ever trying or knowing.

And that's not all bad, because some routines are very good for us and the bad ones can be dealt with by developing better, healthier ones.

Some people are very focused. They will do all the right things at the appropriate times without any kind of help. The rest of us need all the help we can get.

I am not a morning person. Just getting out of bed is the first hurdle of my day no matter how good I'm feeling. I like the warmth and comfort of my bed. Good things happen there. Still, I have to get up at some point and I have developed a routine that gets me through the morning hours as painlessly as possible.

I get up, go to the bathroom, change the litter box, fold my blanket,  make the bed, feed and water Annabel, take my medicine and make a cup of coffee. Then I sit down and enjoy it. It feels like this takes years, but in truth it is all over in less than fifteen minutes. After that I feel like I have already made major accomplishments and now have the whole day before me.

I once got into the routine of eating a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream while watching television every night. It took about a week for me to switch that over to a humongous, delicious salad that took a long time to eat, but ultimately gives me just as much enjoyment.

The secret is to find out what makes you really happy and factor in taste buds, pride, health, ego, and fun. That is how I get the most done in the most satisfying way I know. Somehow the hard things slip in between all the rest and life is a lot less cumbersome.

Searching

Gather round the fire dears
hold your hands quite close
Let me fill your ears dears
with tales that are verbose.
Winter's drawing near dears
nights are growing cold.
It's surely not the years dears
I can't be growing old.

Gather round the fire dears
it's deep within my soul.
Let me soothe your fears dears
my passion is the coal.
I see your spirits rising
to fill the void so bold.
It's surely not the years dears
All souls are really old.

Gather round the fire dears
the time has finally come.
Let me taste your tears dears
and the wisdom they come from.
Salty, sour or bitter
your mark within the fold.
It's surely not the years dear.
Your turn has come.

I'm old.

What do you see?

From November 12, 2008

What Do You See?

I have to ask my sister. "What do you see?"
I need to know.
Not that I doubt my own eyes, my own judgment, but I want to see through her eyes.
I want to feel the image pressed against her retina, smell the odor of it within the confines of her receptors.
I want my hand to reach out and feel what she feels and he feels and they feel and you feel.

Right here, among us, the creator constantly works. Everywhere, mountains of creations, worlds of creations, simple, plain, ornate in a million different ways, surround us. Each one, only the same one, made again and again. The medium never changes. The hands work with the same level of skill and the skill never varies. Not one is any more precious than the other, not one looks different in its creator's eyes, like a cook preparing innumerable meatballs for a great feast they are all the same, only these are Faberge meatballs, their value beyond comprehension.

Each one shaped with love and exquisite care. Each one honed and fired and decorated and then, just before letting it go, a thumb presses slightly into the cradled object. One thumbprint, a small indentation for identification. A shallow shadow of a place left to hold all the differences that can be. Almost invisible, it is the only place visible to many of us and it is a shape shifter, a reflecting pond displaying our own selves, not the one before us.

How odd that we judge ourselves so harshly thinking that it is someone else. How strange the conclusions we draw from such a shallow place. How bizzare the levels of resentments and pain that pile upon us from something so immaterial, so miniscule and fleetingly fragile. How often do we crack the object during our perusal, imagining a tiny little flaw the creator deemed a signature? This ever changing flicker of uniqueness becomes the visage blocking our view and we spend our entire lives seeking what we are.

And so I ask my sister, "What do you see?" Thinking that perhaps I should stir the soup one more time, this time with my eyes closed so that I may immerse myself in us. 

Ruthlessly honest

I think the greatest power we have as individuals is to know who we are.

Not who we want to be.

Not who we'd like to be.

No even who we think we are.

The sometimes brutal truth of who I am and what truly motivates me is frightening. So frightening that I don't want to look it in the eyes.

But that is where my power lies.

When I need to accomplish something very difficult, and it is honestly the most important thing in my life at that moment, I am often capable of doing whatever is necessary to achieve it.

Knowing this can be embarrassing, frustrating, and even demoralizing, because it means failure is every bit as much my fault as success. I will never be able to achieve success one hundred percent of the time, because I am human and mortal and prone to wishful thinking. (And wishful thinking is not even remotely as powerful as total commitment).

Power and accomplishment

It is an unusual feeling for me.

Feeling successful. Powerful. Competent.

It took initiative. Creativity. Desire. Perseverance.

Diagnosed with Type Two Diabetes, high cholesterol, and impaired kidneys, I decided to try and change those things with diet and lifestyle choices.

It wasn't the first time, but it is the first time I have been able to do it on an extended basis and have it documented with tests, both before and after.

Several years ago a nurse practitioner told me this was impossible. Other people had been told by professionals not to do some of the things I did, but it felt right.

It seemed wrong not to try again.

So I tried. My doctor measured, and yesterday she validated, my hard work in a way that really left me feeling powerful and accomplished.

There have been no magic pills. No magic operations. No magic foods. Not even any magic actions. Only simple, steadfast, day after day perseverance toward living a simple healthier life.

It feels really good.

I love food!

Yesterday I received the results of my blood test in my email and I was so disappointed, but today I went to my doctor and she was ecstatic.

Not only have I lost a total of 55 pounds, but my blood sugar is well within normal bounds, my blood pressure is close to what she is looking for, and I am headed in the right direction!

I still have a long way to go, but I am already off the diabetes medicine and one other drug, so all I am taking now is medicine for my blood pressure and some fish oil for cholesterol.

I know I've done this before and failed, but I think I've learned a few things this time. I am not eating frozen or prepared foods and I am not setting a weight I am likely to reach as my goal.

Why? You ask why I would set a goal I can't reach, but that's an easy one. Once I hit my goal I no longer get the little buzz I love when I get on the scale and lose a little more weight. As long as there is a lower goal I think I can continue to eat healthy.

There is no danger of me getting too thin. I love food way too much for that!

The wedding

Family weddings are a good place to look back on your life and where you came from.

Mine is country on my mother's side and this wedding reflected that from beginning to end.

The bride wore an underskirt worn by so many generations of her family that no one can remember how old it is, but I would guess maybe the 1890s. There were bales of hay flanking the altar and the theme was Autumn in all its glory everywhere you looked.

The bride and groom poured sand into one container to symbolize the joining of their families and the bride's mother made a very intricate and beautiful wedding cake that was absolutely delicious! The bottom layer was brownie, the next layer was strawberry and the top they say was white. It looked like a tree complete with bark, boots, leaves and a small sign that said, Mr. and Mrs. Prehn. The toast was made in champagne glasses shaped like cowboy boots and there were tiny boots full of bubbles with tiny preserves jars full of bird seed to throw. The tables were decorated with candles in mason jars sitting on slices of small logs and each jar was covered in a beautiful hand crocheted cover made by the bride's grandma.

There were candles everywhere, even flanking the white runner strewn with leaves and glitter hearts for the bride. Unfortunately no one considered the width of her gown, so she swept them away whenever she walked on it to pin flowers on mothers and make her entrance. Thank goodness most of the candles were battery powered or the wedding would have been truly a flaming success. There was one near mishap at the head table when one of the real candles was knocked over and rolled out onto the table cloth.

It was a festive night with good music and humorous incidents like when the best man skipped back up the aisle with his partner for pictures. It was also the most somber experience I've ever had as the bride called for absolute silence while they played a song for her deceased father and she stood on the stage sobbing.

The toasts were sweet, the food nice, the company great. Everyone was glad to connect with family many hadn't seen in years, so pictures were taken by the hundreds.

All in all it was a grand, but very long day.

Reality bites

Prioritizing is not easy.

It requires me to look hard at those things I want to do, need to do, can do and really shouldn't do.

Honesty with myself can be the hardest part of living with me, but when I realize that I am sacrificing Christmas, birthdays, even simple things like having breakfast with my friends, or going to a local play so that I can spend a few days with friends in the middle of summer, reality hits.

Sometimes I just can't do everything I want to do.

And that's okay.

The question is

I hit a milepost today.

I was happy, but also found myself wary and scared.

What if I can't maintain this way of eating for the rest of my life?

Will I be doomed to continue this awful cycle of losing weight, feeling good about myself, gaining weight, feeling awful and doing it all over again and again?

I feel more hopeful than usual this time, because I am actually eating food I love. That makes it easier.

I am also facing horrible consequences if I fail. Type two diabetes can mean losing toes, feeling sick, dying a long slow horrible death that slowly eats me alive because I can't control my eating. At least if I eat healthier I am doing the best I can.

Tomorrow I have blood tests drawn. Friday I talk to the doctor.

I'm almost holding my breath.

Behavior

You can tell a lot about someone by the way they treat those closest to them.

I never saw Obama treat his wife badly and I never gave it a second thought.

On the other hand, I watch Trump and his wife and get the feeling she has been well coached not to get in his way -- in any way.

People who need to make sure they are always the one and only, the one front and center, the one who gets all the attention are fragile despite the fact that they want others to think they are the biggest, bestest, most important people around.

Think yourself young

Neuroscientists have mapped the brain’s responses to both real and imagined stimuli and the brain responds to both in almost the same way. That means our heart rate, blood flow, digestion, emotional state, all respond to what our brain perceives as a positive or negative circumstance.

And that means that we have a lot more control over our lives than we might think.

Most people know that a sad or angry person often has high blood pressure and is more prone to getting sick, but what if we could also be healthier just because of the way we think?

Turns out we can to some extent.

Using this information for our own advantage only makes sense. Be more positive. Be calmer. Think of yourself the way you want to be -- not the way the world says you are.

It can't hurt and it might make a world of difference.

Feast

Regret is one of those dishes best left back in the ice box.

Cold, old, and not very palatable, it does not belong on today's table.

Let your actions speak out of clarity and purpose. Do the best you can. Then move forward.

Take along any pertinent facts that might help you keep from repeating mistakes of the past, but don't dwell on the ones that failed.

Life is too short to fill up with regrets.

There is a feast before you, don't starve to death by refusing to eat.

A new way

I am reading Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi and in one of the chapters, Effia, an African grandmother who was raised by a mother who hated her, who eventually married a white soldier and moved away from her village, tells her grandson who does not want to spend his life like his parents, fighting with each other: we all come into the world weak and learn how to do things from our mother and father, but if we don't like the person we have learned to be -- maybe it is possible to make a new way.

Most of my closest friends have found themselves in that position at some point. I have too.

My parents did not fight, but I learned other things from my mother, who I suspect learned them from her mother. I knew these things made me very unhappy and I did my best to change. I managed to change some things, but I still did other things I know my children need to unlearn, to make a new way.

That is the way life works. We take the best of what we know and try to make it better. No one is ever perfect, but with a little luck, each generation gets a bit better.

Homestretch

I am like that horse the dude ranches have. The one who breaks rank at the end of the trail and runs madly for the barn. The unlucky rider bouncing along, hanging on for dear life as his not so trusty mount heads for the oat bin.

It's not just dinner that draws me like iron filings to a magnet. Although I have to admit I sometimes count the minutes till it's time to eat. Anything I do that is nearing an end drains my patience and self control until I can barely withhold my need to finish up and get there.

I have been carefully watching what I eat since July. In August I began eliminating almost all sugar and salt and by September first I was also not eating meat. I do get some salt because it is in my one piece of toast, the pat of Irish butter and the chick peas when I can't find dry ones to cook myself, but I keep it below eight hundred mg. a day.

I only strayed a couple of times on two family members birthdays. Otherwise I have been a very conscientious consumer for over two months. Next Monday I have blood tests done and I am anxious to see how they compare with ones done in July of this year.

Suddenly it feels harder not to stray, or overeat for the first time. I don't know why that is because this is supposed to be a life style change. I have no intention of returning to my old habits again.

I will just be glad when I can see the numbers. (And I hope they are good.)

The prodigal patient

Nearly sixteen years ago I left my dentist when my insurance left me.

I spent years brushing and polishing. I gargled gallons of Listerine and even did a little scraping on my own here and there.

But after sixty seven years my baby eye tooth gave up the ghost. I put him under my pillow, but the tooth fairy let me down.

This week things changed.

No the tooth fairy did not come.

I went to the dentist. She pulled out the tiny shard still left in my gum from that baby tooth and offered it to me. She said maybe if I put both pieces under my pillow the tooth fairy would come.

Now I'm looking for a tooth fairy with a big heart. (And three thousand dollars.)

Storm clouds and sunshine

It is so much easier to write passionately about what I don't like. The metaphors roll off my lips like logs floating down a river and the only jam is the strawberry on my toast.

I've always had niggling questions about why that is.

I think part of it is that humans are hard wired to be passionate about ridding themselves of problems. Roadblocks along life's way were meant to be overcome and the people most passionate about that are lauded by those who benefit from it too.

Another part is a little less obvious. We like to think we are happy, sunshiny people who dance around thinking the glass is half full, that lemons were made just for lemonade and even storm clouds have a silver lining, but . . .

My world is relentlessly harsh on those who are Pollyanna-ish, calling them dreamers and star gazers. Implying that they don't see the forest for the trees, the boulders under the waters of life, the teeth that will bite the hand that feeds them. In other words I suspect them of turning a blind eye to the realities of the real world. I try to invalidate their thoughts and perceptions because either they really are not valid, or I am threatened by my own inability to see things from that point of view.

It takes courage to talk about the beauty of life when hell is raging all around me, when the top man in the country is a spiteful manipulator and policemen are armed and dangerous.

The truth is that nothing is absolute. In the worst of times there are moments of bliss that crop up if I have the eyes, the will, and the determination to see them.

Just wondering

I am reluctant to say this, because it sounds like a cop out, but my body seems to do better when left to its own ways and means in many instances.

My blood pressure medicine seems to work, but that is after years of experimenting and dealing with tons of adverse reactions. Other medicines mostly seem to do more harm than good.

My joints are my weakest parts, but they heal best when left alone to do their thing. Add physical therapy or soft casts and it seems to make things worse.

If I eat right and stop doing things that cause pain, I seem to bounce back from most things, at least so far.

It makes me think that barring common sense, some poverty can be a blessing. Not being able to run to the doctor for every little complaint might have saved me a ton of misery.

Return to the woods

There is something magical about walking alone in the woods. It feels like anything is possible.

The chilly autumnal sunlight reflects off of damp trees and leaves creating an other worldly mist that could house the most fantastic adventures.

I follow the deer paths. Watch for the unusual leaves, the huge crimson ones and serrated gold ones. Around every bend is a new possibility.

The silence here is so intense I can hear an invisible deer thumping across wet moss somewhere beyond the path. The sound of a red tailed hawk shooting out of a tree to catch some distant field mouse sounds like a cannon to my ears.

Suddenly I hear trampling feet running nearby. I can tell they carry something very large and heavy and it terrifies me until I hear mooing and notice a bull on the other side of an electric fence.

The walking is easy, but not for me. Each walnut and hedge apple challenge feet still recovering from modern medicine, but my heart is full and I am so glad I came to these woods today.

Magical creatures

How exactly do we find the people who are the most important to us?

That family of the heart, who may, or may not be, blood.

They are the magical creatures I read about in myths and legends.

Rare creatures who fill in soul holes in such fulfilling ways, such unique ways, such beautiful ways, that it is hard to even describe them.

Sometimes it takes a while before I recognize who they are, but there are signs.

The overflowing heart. The surprising warmth. The glow that lingers long after they are out of sight.

Standing in the wind

Rushing across the parking lot, dodging wind and rain and splashing through puddles, I suddenly imagined myself being chased by a tyrannosaurus rex!

Not because I felt threatened, but because it flashed across my mind that this same wind and rain might have fallen on it -- way back when!

And that began a long train of thought that vastly interrupted my trip to Barnes and Noble.

Had my cheek been brushed by the same molecules that ran over Lincoln's face when he walked the streets of Springfield? Or was I feeling the puddle my son and grandchildren played in out in Seattle?

Is it possible that I could blow a kiss to Bestest and he would catch it when he walked his dog next week?

Or that, maybe, my mother blew a kiss to me when I was three and it got caught up in the wind and just now got here today . . .

Blessings

The words best friends once summoned up pictures of two children two years apart, who sat giggling on the front porch chaise lounge, sharing secrets. Innocence framed in fears that it was not innocent. Joy mirroring relief at the baring of two souls blessed with each other.

Those times are impossible to replicate and yet . . .

Best friends now summons up pictures of two adults a generation apart, giggling on their Iphones. Still sharing secrets. Still innocent. And still feeling joy because they are blessed with each other.

Motions

Going through the motions.

That's what they teach you. Go through the motions.

Do what you're supposed to do.

But going through the motions plays down the e

It's the emotions that need to be gone through

The motions are just those actors upon a stage

The ones fretting over someone else's words.

But emotions . . .  man are they tough!

Confidence

I like rewards.

The only problem with being me is that it's hard to deny myself things I really want, so a reward could become meaningless.

I wanted to go out to dinner with some friends, but they were going to a pasta place where I knew I could easily consume a day's worth of salt, fats, and carbs in one meal. I can do this by not eating the other two meals, or eating only half of this meal, but I went there a few weeks ago and it cannot become an everyday thing.

So . . . I decided if I met my weight goal for that day I would go. It seemed a sure thing.

Only it wasn't. I woke up and was over a half pound too heavy. I stayed home.

It wasn't easy, but it will mean more if I make it tomorrow and can go to the coffee at Starbucks, because I will know I earned it. Two different sets of friends. Two different venues. Both are fun though.

These decisions make me more sure of myself as I progress down this road to healthier eating. I feel like I am going to be able to maintain this weight loss for the long term and that is important.

Confidence is a secure feeling and I like that.

Unfair

Sometimes it feels unfair.

I eat all the right foods. Drink lots of water. Get plenty of sleep. Work up a sweat almost every day and still things go wrong.

My left knee kept me up most of last night and made everything I did difficult today. I don't know if it is related to the Lipitor I took for a month before stopping it, or not. Joints have always been the weakest parts of my body.

I still got up and went to my volunteer job today and I still managed to get everything done there, but it was not easy.

It really feels unfair, but then I think of people like my granddaughter who has cerebral palsy. She was born with a debilitating disease. Now that is truly unfair.

Library Days

My volunteer days vary from two to four a week and they are some of my favorite days of the week. I was volunteering in an elementary school library today and it occurred to me that I have been working in one library, or another for over 40 years. Most of it as a volunteer, but not all if you count State Farm's Corporate Library.

I only took one Library Science course in college and while I enjoyed it, it never really occurred to me to become a librarian.

To be honest, the things I do now are things librarians in schools don't get to do much anymore. I check books in and out, make reports of over due and lost books, contact parents via emails, or letters, shelve books, and keep track of who gets to choose a prize for bringing back their books. I get to pick books for the kindergartners to choose from and help anyone who comes in asking for help.

Occasionally I have to corral rambunctious children, but most of the time the unpleasant things are left to the librarian.

It's the best of all worlds.

Me too

It has been difficult for me to write this. I keep feeling that somehow this is different, that I was not sexually harassed. That's what I told myself at the time too.

But I had nightmares after it and sometimes I still have nightmares that I am saying, "no" to deaf ears, because I did say, "No." I said it over and over again. I even threatened to tell his mother, but of course I didn't.

Instead I felt dirty, violated, like I had done something wrong. Each time for a long time, because I stopped saying no after enough times. That makes it feel like I wasn't really violated too. Deciding that it was okay in the end.

But the point is: I said, "No," the first time, the second time, and many more times. So why did I continue to be with him? Partly because I was not at home. I was visiting his family and partly because I felt maybe I was wrong to feel this way. I thought maybe you were supposed to do these things even if you didn't want to. And he never acknowledged my dissent. He didn't even pause.

The sad part is that it had a long lasting and negative effect on my life.

And really his too.

Most of us

Wanting something can make us do things we should never do if we aren't careful.

I took an oil painting class many years ago. My teacher was trained at the Sorbonne and was an excellent artist, but the thing she did for me that I value the most was teaching me to see colors.

Not just blue, green red, but cornflower blue, azure blue, cerulean blue, dusty blue, blue green and on and on and on. Colors, like life, have so many shades.

There is a depth caused by the pigment and the medium, the artist who uses it and the light it is seen by. No two people ever really see it the same way. They may see it close enough to name it, but there is no way for expressing the feelings it brings, the nuances it shivers up our spines, the ecstasy, or despair it brews in our souls.

Most things in life are very similar.

We connect, but we do not merge, at least most of us.

Relationships

How often have I opted not to have a conversation about something because it felt awkward, or dangerous?

Pretending that everything is alright when it isn't makes about as much sense as toting water in a holey bucket.

Why make things harder than they already are?

A calm discussion by two people who care enough to want the best for each other can sometimes work miracles.

And if you can't have a calm discussion, or you can't want the best for the other person, or you don't care enough to resolve this difference -- maybe it's time to move on.

Relationships can grow into beautiful, deep, meaningful moments, or a string of long sad ones.

Back then

How often have women listened to men say, "That is what we did then. It was considered okay." Or, "It's a witch hunt today."

But did people really think it was okay? Is it truly a witch hunt?

If they did why did no one talk about it that way? Instead they downplayed everything, claiming the woman exaggerated things, misunderstood, even made them up to feel more important than she was.

This kind of reaction not only negated the experience, it made the woman feel she had no right to feel the way she did, that somehow her view was flawed and her feelings the most inappropriate part of the whole event.

Change

The difference between a diet and a lifestyle change is continually moving back to the plan.

I don't want to just change my eating habits until my blood tests improve, or I lose enough weight.  I want to change the way my body works and the way I feel.

This month has been hard.

With the best of intentions, I had to weather three birthdays and a luncheon with friends who love to eat. I love to eat too and I was able to make it through a good portion of this until yesterday when I ate both beef and sugar.

I have to say my intentions were to have salad until I realized their salad was close to a thousand calories and I knew I wouldn't eat just half of it. I chose a sandwich with half those calories, but it was still a cop out.

Today I managed to go out for coffee with some other friends and eat a Mediterranean breakfast sandwich made with egg whites, cheese and vegetables. Then for dinner I had my usual salad. If nothing else, it makes me feel like I might succeed at this.

Disappointment

Part of the joy in everything is looking forward to it, but a part of me is always afraid to do that.

What if they let me down? What if it falls through? What if I am wrong about how they feel, or it is supposed to be?

These are the questions that dull the glow of extraordinary situations.

It's about more than trust, because there can be good reasons to cancel something, or change it.

So where does trust come into the picture? Confidence in the person canceling to understand what they are doing and to reschedule something just as good or better.

Without that joy is a ride down disappointment alley.

Nature

Fortunately, or unfortunately, our life is about us. Mine is about me. Yours is about you. Trump's is about Trump's.

He may take it to an obscene extreme, but other people take theirs to the opposite end. Living your whole life for someone else, even something else, is sometimes exalted in our society, but it is unnatural.

Being consumed by your love makes for an entirely different species. It reminds me of Al Capp's shmoos who could turn themselves into roasts, or whatever was wanted. That kind of being lives only to make the creatures around it happy.

Happiness dependent on someone else is a tragedy waiting to happen.

We are social creatures, but that does not define us if we want to be whole, full bodied, healthy, contributing members of our society.

When I learn to take care of myself I am learning the utmost inner lesson about taking care of others. I will never understand another as intimately as I do myself, so the better I am at taking care of me, the better that can translate into caring for whatever is outside of me.

Of course that assumes I have a healthy, relatively balanced nature and a desire to spread that all around.

Memories

Having no Internet access does not sound like a big deal to some people, but it left me with no access to most of my friends for nearly twenty four hours.

It also left me without the access to research that I didn't realize I had become accustomed too. No looking up songs, or poetry, pictures, or articles as the mood struck me.

I could not play solitaire because I have no actual cards. I could not play Words with Friends because my phone would not allow me to see anything with pictures in it.

I could not even watch television because I use the Internet to do that.

Today the cable guy replaced my modem with a new higher powered one that connects to my Roku directly and everything returned to normal.

I spent last night reading, which is wonderful, but it used up most of the new book I just bought.

Fortunately, I can go to the library, or order another book soon, but it reminded me of my childhood when books were so precious, especially if I wanted ones I had not previously read.

The hat

I rub my fingers across its fuzzy bill

Admire the embroidered flowers on the front

Imagine it sliding down over her bristly head

Shading her eyes even as they light up

Giving her freedom

To skip through the zoo

Admiring the animals

And not cringing at her own reflection.

Light

Negative emotions are like bacteria. They seem to find a way to grow without much help. No one ever went to a counselor and asked for help finding the hate.

Unlike bacteria though, there isn't an easy fix for ridding ourselves of these harmful things. No vaccine. No antibacterial cleaner. No car wash for muddied souls.

Kind of like trying to light a room one pixel at a time, it takes patience, persistence, and a real desire to get the job done.

It can be frustrating. Like there is a soul eating monster in there eating up the light as fast as we move it into place and there is no guaranteed way to even find the light.

But it can happen. Sometimes medicine unlocks the door. Mostly though it seems like a skylight appears and the dark can be moved up and out with conscientious hard work.

The trick is not to collect it like some cherished old treasure.

Because it is not.

Priorities

Time is personal.

Ebbing and flowing in ephemeral clouds

Allowing us to do the impossible

Stretching to fit our priorities

Shrinking to save our sanity

Becoming a custom made life

In spite of what we say

Special days

Special days need to be special.

Otherwise how will we remember them as any different from regular days?

It if is truly the best of times then it might be harder to find something better, but not impossible.

If it is the worst of times then it should be easy to find almost anything better.

And if you don't know which it is -- you are a most fortunate person.

Effort counts a lot!

Homemade gifts may seem passé, or unremarkable, but they are the very best ones of all.

So sit down, put on your thinking cap and get your hands busy.

Time to create a special day!

Today and tomorrow

I wrote this thot on October 3, 2008 and found it in my memories on Facebook today. I don't put My Thots there anymore, but this one intrigued me.

It's a balancing act

I sit on a teeter totter, high up in the air with love and gratitude, looking at my other side. She is down there, almost on the ground, glaring at me with uncharitable hostility. How dare I ignore her and choose to live in this beautiful moment? How dare I fill myself with light and love and leave her full of weighty issues that must be solved?
...
I know she would like to get off, but not because she has something better to do. She would like to see me plunk down from my lofty height and land with such a jarring thud against the ground that my teeth rattle. It seems to be her job to manifest a lifetime's frustrations and disappointments and miseries and she is pretty good at it. Sometimes she will rush in front of me when I look into a mirror, or grab my hand when I am paying bills, or sit up and talk to me all night long so I don't get any sleep.

But not today. Today I am enjoying it up here. In fact I am going to go swing on the big swings until the wind blows my hair straight out and the clouds kiss my toes! I start to plan how I will get from here to there without letting that dark creature down there jump on my back and go with me. There..... really doesn't seem to be any way. She has a lot of years to practice. She is like a little cosmic vampire, clinging onto my thoughts with a ravenous desire to feed upon the light I have and devour it with her darkness. She is too ephemeral and insubstantial for me to plunge a stake through her heart and for that I am grateful. Once I do that we will be one and I will never find her again.

Climbing carefully down from my lovely high, I walk over and take her hand, pull her with me to the swings. Today I will hold her close, hug her with both arms and take her swinging with me.

Variables

Life is one long experiment and about the time I figure things out, something changes.

The variable is always there. Mixing things up. Keeping me on my toes.

Waiting for me to figure out that it isn't the end result I'm looking for.

It's the right combination of ingredients under particular circumstances.

(Which just makes figuring out the variables more like factoring than adding.)

I think that's why people believe in magic. If feels magical when I find a recipe for something that really works.

For example: Losing weight isn't hard if:

I eat foods that feel decadent to me. (Maybe not to you, but me, so things like eggs, avocados, toast,  blue cheese.)

I feel good and don't have bad dreams.

I get to eat as much as I want at least one meal a day.

These things leave me satisfied inside and out.

Then, of course, there is the added carrot of watching the scale go down and giving me numerous places to record that as well.

I need a lot of rewards and almost zero resistance, but I can get that right now.

Fall

Fall seems like such a simple word for the season I love most. I am sure it is because the leaves fall off the trees, but after looking up the etymology of Autumn and Fall, I was surprised to learn that it is considered a season of melancholia.

Not for me!

Some cultures considered it backend, or the end of possibilities, or harvest time. I have always thought of it as a time for new beginnings.

The air goes from the stultifying, overgrown heat of August to the fresh, cool, even chilly temperatures of October and November and I'm willing to wait through September to experience that.

The world takes on the basic reds, yellows and browns of Autumnal leaves and then presents the gorgeous bare bones of trees all across the land.

School is starting and the prospect of a whole new year hangs deliciously juicy and rich right above my head.

Mornings are often cloudy and cozy followed by crisp clear blue and white afternoon skies.

The sun feels just a bit more welcome and the breezes caress my soul with possibilities.

I love Fall!

Centenarian

I watched a show about the world's oldest people tonight (all over a hundred.) Many were still living at home after a hundred and several were still getting around on their own, walking to restaurants, performing in public singing, or playing an instrument. Most were still very aware of the world around them.

Their thoughts about their longevity varied from it must be God's will, to organic food and exercise, to keep on working (yes, one man still worked!) One smoked and drank all his life, another never did either. A few felt they'd lived too long, most were pretty upbeat people with a sense of humor.

It seems like the people in my family have always thought about growing old. It's almost like they can't wait. I'm not sure what that's about. Maybe because if you are old enough, you finally have the right to do more of what you want without guilt.

My mother died at 58. My father was old before his time, but finally died at 73. Two of my siblings seem years older than the other two of us, but a lot of that is the way they think. I am almost 68 and really don't feel much different than I did in my forties, but I have a lot to live for (and that may be the real secret.)

Had I died at 58 I would never have met Bestest, Some of my best years have been because I met him. He's shown me who I am and helped me find the best in me. That might be the elixir of youth in the end.

Whether I live another day, or another forty years, I hope I take advantage of the time to be happy and useful.

Great!

Positive thinking is, well, very positive!

However, it also needs to be authentic.

I volunteer in a place where the administration has meetings that absolutely glow with positive reports! The top dog oozes enthusiasm and excitement.

What a wonderful thing you may be thinking?

It would be if it were warranted.

It is not.

This kind of positivity is actually detrimental.

It does not lead to solutions for existing problems because they are not acknowledged. It even fosters maladaptive behaviors, because they are glossed over.

Looking good is not the same thing as being good and it is certainly different from being GREAT!

Sometimes it is necessary to suck it up, admit there are problems, and get on with the odious task of correcting them.

Memories

There are things that stand between us and the light.

Invisible things.

Tenacious things.

Things that wrap themselves around thoughts.

Resurrected things that hover in the darkness, darker than the dark.

Slime trails along the edges of life's pathways.

Shimmering mirages, anti-oasis things.

Ephemeral scars no surgeon can smooth away.

Love

Love. Supposedly it makes the world go round. All you need is love. I will always love you.

Children grow up eager to fall in love, be in love, find love.

Adults take vows to love each other forever more.

And then we put all kinds of strings and codicils on loving as if we can legislate it, control it, parcel it out in deserving doses.

Love is not just a wonderful idea. It is not a commodity. It is not a physical act. It can be all those things, but it is so much more.

The most vital love song in the world would be a symphony of every heart beating together with all the tiny nuances and variations adding a depth and richness never before imagined.

It would have the collective breath of every creature inhaling the same air at the same moment and exhaling it in one long sigh of perseverance.

It would exemplify caring without controlling, or owning. Wanting the best for everyone. Choosing the greatest good whenever possible.

Living love is nirvana.

Fairy tale

Once upon a time is really a fairy tale played backwards.

Of course it actually does start in the beginning, but after about the age of three no one really believes it's a fairy tale anymore, so they go on this quest totally clueless about what it's all about.

Quests only last a few pages in books. In life they can last years and years and years.

Sometimes people do not even realize they are on a quest and, sadly, some quests are never finished in quite the same way as fairy tales would have you believe, because the clues are not written on cookies, nor do they generally come in flashing lights on a midnight sky and happily ever after is more a state of mind than something that can ride off on the back of a horse.

There is a huge time lag between living the fairy tale and understanding that it is here. Now. In this moment with the ogres disguised as abuse, or illness, or poverty and the fairy godmothers as pets, and friends, and books, the story is lived one day at a time.

But, if you are one of the lucky ones, some day you will receive a magic shirt in the mail and discover that it goes with a golden necklace and when you put it on and look in the mirror you see a beautiful woman who is living her dream in more ways than she ever dreamed was possible.

And the story becomes personal.