Slowly Tiptoeing Into the Garden Post

Of late, I've noticed quite a few posts about what's sprouting in gardens thanks to the mild winter in many places. The kitchen gardens particularly inspire me since I really miss mine. Plus it pains me to  pay two to three dollars for a little plastic box of herbs that will spoil before I use them up! It's such a waste!

I've missed making my Mediterranean Pasta dish because it would cost me at least $8-10 for the herbs alone. Then add $1 each for a can of tomatoes, pasta, black olives, parmesan and you're up to about $12-14, which is rather pricy for a pasta dish. Tried making it with dried herbs and while it was okay, it wasn't remotely as fresh, tasty and aromatic.

In retrospect, this last year seems to have been a year of mourning. I don't know how else to explain the directionless path I've wandered. Seems it's slowly coming to an end (knock on wood). For so long, nothing interested me and now, I'm actually feeling like getting myself outside and working on my garden.

Since my plans to move out of state are on hold due to the knee, the most I could save per month if I moved elsewhere in LA would be "maybe" $100. If you factor in moving costs (since I can't do any of the lifting, etc. I've done in the past) it's a wash. So I might as well make this place livable.

Well that was a roundabout little tangent....

If you're a regular reader you know my "garden" consists of a little strip of dirt by the chain link fence and a gaggle of pots in assorted sizes. In previous posts, I've explained how events in my life had conspired to send me into a downward spiral. One of the casualties was my little garden.

Reading about other bloggers planning out their spring seed selections pricked up my ears or rather my eyes. This led to going online and ordering a few seed catalogs like Seed Savers, Burpee's and Park's. It's been a long time since I've looked at seed catalogs. Usually it's just a trip to a nursery to pick up the plants I want since we're not talking a farm here! Holy smokes! 30 seeds cost anywhere from $4.95 to $6.95! Obviously I'll be using these catalogs mainly for inspiration or if I can't find a specific item I really want.

Living in LA does have it's advantages like lots of plant nurseries, from your basic big box store to the more boutique type. It's funny, this is the first time in a while I've felt this interested in something other than hibernating. Yeah, I've been pretty pathetic.

Anyway, these are a few pics of the disaster that used to be a lovely potted garden. It's okay to be appalled, I am. Remember this area has not seen a human other than the mo'n'blo' gardener in almost two years. From here I'll make a list of pots, saucers and accessories. Then assess what can and needs to be done. One thing that must be accomplished straight off is to empty the exhausted, old dirt that's been in the pots for over ten years and put in new dirt.

Unlike in the past, this will take a bit of time due to the inconvenience my knee will cause. Dragging pots of dirt to dump in the empty spot on the side of the house and bags of soil to and from my car at the big box store won't go as quickly as usual.

That's why I'm going to plan it all out, step by step. First, herbs will be planned out then pots prepared and only then am I allowing myself out to actually buy the plants. I believe a Meyer's Lemon tree (dwarf size for a large pot) will be next. That or some pots for veggies such as the obvious, lettuce and a bush tomato or three. Lastly the flowers. Not many, just a bit of color.

The glass table with the iron base and plastic chairs will all be subject to a bath. Meanwhile, I'll observe what's going on with the tomato and decide if it'll be ripped out or just left. Since there is no shade thanks to the tree butcher (no, still not over that), I'll have to see if the patio umbrella works since I haven't opened it in two summers.

Photo Source

I've also got two really cute bistro chairs that I bought at Marshall's about eight years ago to go with the glass table. Problem was after being out for one summer, they began rusting which of course would come off on one's clothes. Rustoleum was purchased but a number of things got in the way so there they sit in the garage.

I "may" tackle them this summer. Especially since I found almost the identical chair in the Pottery Barn catalog for $159 each! I didn't pay anywhere near that much for mine! Mine have a lattice back as well as the seat. I can't decide though if I should keep them white and paint the table base to match or vice versa. The 30 inch hight metal plant stand is white. Any thoughts?

It feels good to actually be interested in something again and planning for it. As I said though, I will be taking this a step at a time so I'm not overwhelmed. I mean, look at those photos, wouldn't you be defeated before you even began if you considered it as a whole task? It won't look all Home and Garden-y since I'm working with what's there. Expenditures will be on soil, plants and possibly Rustoleum.

So, step by step we go. Kind of like the saying associated with Aesop's fable of "The Tortoise and the Hare"...If you work slowly but constantly, you will succeed better than if you work fast for a short while and do not continue."

"Slow and steady wins the race".

Happy Post

Yesterday I had to go to the dentist to get the permanent crown put on one of my back teeth. This is the pre-molar I managed to break on a single popcorn kernel. Let's see, the cost of one un-popped kernel of corn equals $1,200.00. Somehow that's just obscene. But there was nothing I could do to change it, so I just resigned myself to it.

Since the dentist is 20 minutes away on a good traffic day, I arrived early and wound up talking to the receptionist. She hadn't seen me in six months so the cane and limp were new to her. She inquired and I explained the pricy surgery coming up. She was shocked at the cost and how little of it my health insurance covered. We talked about some other things and then it was my turn.

Five shots of Novocain later, I was a drooling fool but it was over (no photos of this...you understand). The impressions were taken and the temporary crown was put on.

Remember how I said around New Year's that I was going to acknowledge when something good happened to me rather than just whining about the bad things? Well, I still don't do it enough, but this is one of those times.

When I walked over to the receptionist to pay, she asked if I had dental insurance and I said unfortunately not. She then wrote a website on a post-it and whispered to me to go online and apply for this insurance.

Gifts come in various forms...like a simple little Post-It!

"Don't tell the Dr. I gave you this number". Continuing, she said that if I signed up immediately, it would reduce the cost by at least 40-50%!!! Well, push me over with a feather! I thanked her profusely and signed up the minute I got back to my home computer.

For about $12 per month I now have dental insurance! How amazing is that? What a kind person! She didn't have to do that!! What a gift!! In my case it really is, since I have several other very old amalgam fillings that are living on borrowed time at this point.

So here's the "crowning glory" as it were in all it's less than sartorial splendor. Oh, and with the gift of insurance, it "only" cost $645.00...what a difference, huh? Miracles sparkle everywhere, you just have to be open to allowing them in.

The pricy little crown is third from the right. Sorry, color's wonky.

Fact of Life Post

A fact of Life:  

After Monday and Tuesday

even the calendar says 

W T F………..

Found this little bit of humor a while back, can't remember where, and as always forgot about it. Ran across it on the weekend and after last week, I couldn't resist sharing. It just felt sort of apropos.

Biscuits and Gravy Post

Memory Mondays

St. Pat's Day got me thinking as I said in an earlier post) about my family. While searching for a quote to send a friend, I ran across one in Robert Fulghum's book, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. It immediately made me think of my father. It's at the end of this post.

In the last years of his life, my dad re-discovered Biscuits and Gravy for breakfast. This was a horrifying discovery for me since my parents' home had become a combo of "Heart Attack Hotel" and "Stroke City". What was scarier, was that my mother was enabling him!

She had figured out how to whip up a batch of Sausage Gravy, putting it into recycled margarine containers from her friend Irene (my mom never used margarine after her experience with oleo). Then she'd mix up dough for biscuits, bake them, cool completely and bag them. Everything was then frozen.

This way she could thaw a tub of gravy overnight, the next morning, heat it and pop a few biscuits into the toaster oven. Within minutes she had dad's breakfast. He always looked so delighted when he dove in. His eyes twinkled and when finished, he'd smack his lips and smile. The perfect picture of pure happiness.

As time went on, this became his (gasp!) daily breakfast after he went to George Webb's to see his "friends" for a cup of coffee. On weekends, of course, it was real eggs, bacon and butter. Eggbeaters never entered the picture, much less the house.

Recent posts on food networks seem to be featuring more and more comfort foods, among them recipes for Biscuits and Gravy. In looking up the nutritional (ha!) information for these heavenly little pillows of poison, I came across www.livestrong.com, a partner of the Lance Armstrong Foundation and the following statistics.
"One 2 1/2 inch diameter biscuit has 212 calories, according to the FatSecret website. An oz., or 2 tbsp. of sausage gravy has 44 calories, you'll take in 256 in calories."

Frankly this sounded a bit low to me, so over at the www.fatsecret.com site I found that one biscuit with gravy equalled 508 calories. I won't even tell you the breakdown of saturated fat and so on. At www.allrecipes.com, I found one serving dished up 710 calories, so there's a lot of variation.

Now, if you'd seen my father's version, it would have scared you silly. At least two if not three biscuits topped with about 3/4 cup of sausage gravy. Yes, you may faint right now. My arteries are snapping shut right now just recalling this!

Since I've never had a taste of this dish or would ever make a batch, I'm using a photo from www.tasteofhome.com so you can see what I'm referring to.

Photo Source

I'll end with the Robert Fulghum quote because it's exactly what my father said to me when I questioned his sanity for eating this way.

And sure,

I know if you eat this way you'll die. So?

If you don't eat this way

you're still going to die.

Why not die happy?

Simply Sunday's Post

This whole accepting life as it comes and not going into a deranged tailspin of worry and fighting what I can have no effect on, is still new to me. I'm still kind of in shock. It's almost as if, once I gave up the mindset that I "could" control life, I was set free, freer than I'd ever felt before.

The little snafu* with my brother still was weighing on me when I finally decided to let it go over the weekend. I can't change him, he has a stubborn streak as do I so it would only get worse.

After the Storm.

Once again, a sweet little gift dropped into my lap today. I didn't wish for anything, I just went about my daily business of working on my blog and checking on friend's blogs. The only thing different was that I'd let go of fear and worry for the day. There was nothing I could do today to resolve the events of the last week, so why give today short shrift? It didn't do anything to me.

In fact, it struck me that I was so grateful not to have him as well as the man I used to be married to (known as doltoid in my writings) in my life at this point. No more of the usual trap of waiting for their approval or whatever. Amazing how much more you can see with 20/20 hindsight. I was so thankful!

This means I'm on my own, all by my self which is scary. But sometimes "being alone" is better than "being alone with..." those kind of individuals.

While I dwelt in the unfamiliar peace that I found this midweek, I read Corey Amaro's blog, Tongue in Cheek, her Sunday entry which I must have missed when she posted it.

It's not so much what she wrote, but her link to Amy Voskamp's book, "One Thousand Gifts:  A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are". Right below the "Book Description" you'll find a short video, watch it. Magical! I also found a quote that I like from the book, "It is impossible to give thanks and simultaneously feel fear".

It  really sounded like a good book based on the reviews. However, after reading Amazon's "Look Inside" I decided the book's not for me and for a number of reasons. I don't mean to sound judgy (that is a word isn't it? Lol!) but it's a little too mother with six children living on the farm, finding Christ, for my personal taste. But have a look yourself, it may be something you'll like. Me, I'll glean what I can and be thankful for the gifts it contained for me.

Sometimes the end result (buying the book) isn't the message, it's reading a few parts that contribute to your life and that's enough. It's the journey not the destination that's important. It's finding the Grace in things as they are, not demanding something, some place else.

*I think that's why I like the acronym "snafu" it's meaning is so perfect for moments in life that don't go the way we wanted or planned. Check out this link for a complete definition. (Note: for those with a delicate constitution, there is a swear word in the acronym so please be advised.)

Well, I'm off to listen to A Prairie Home Companion podcast or two and then to bed. Funny, found a rather critical review of it recently relating to the "snore factor" which I found hysterical because that's exactly why I listen. Only in my case, I'd refer to it as the "relaxing factor" and I'm fond of them just for that. I LOVE stories, especially when told by a great storyteller!

Goodnight :)

A Thought Post

Friendship isn't about whom you

have known the longest…

It's about who came, and never left your side.

Unknown

Under the Weather and Gloom Post

The weather here has been heavenly the last five or so days. Just heavenly but I'm under it as the saying goes. Not so much physically sick but bitten by a mental bug. Funny how much words can hurt. Especially when they come from someone you're related to and love. Someone you've known your whole life.

"Machines and relatives get most of the yelling.

But never trees. As for people, well, the Solomon islanders have a point. Yelling at a living thing does tend to kill the spirit in them.

Sticks and stones may break our bones,

but words will break our hearts."

Robert Fulghum

It always amazes me when we treat relatives with so much less care than friends and acquaintances. Several years back, I read something about this phenomena. Shortly after reading that article, I stopped watching a number of television programs where family members belittled each other or treated each other poorly. One in particular was "Everyone Loves Raymond".

This also was a prime example of how poorly spouses treat each other. Now, I don't mind an occasional dose of sarcasm and so on, life is like that, but not all the time. The Middle is another show I have a problem watching. It just seems so negative, so damaging mentally to watch. And of course, how could I forget Two and a Half Men? So very many bad examples there.

Life is too short to waste time viewing such cynical drivel. Seems it also makes it "okay" for people to turn around and treat others in real life virtually the same way as they've seen characters on TV shows behaving.

"Think of what a better world it would be

if we all - the whole world

had cookies and milk about 3 o'clock every afternoon

and then lay down with our blankets for a nap."

Robert Fulghum

Maybe I'm just feeling gloomy as another birthday is slowly approaching. It's funny, speaking to a friend several months ago, she mentioned how turning 26 was devastating for her. Quite a few of her girlfriends had voice the same opinion. I almost fell over because 26 for me had been a truly depressing birthday...not 25 or 30, but 26!

This feels a lot like the same oppressive weight I felt at the approach of that birthday. Mind you, I have...holy c#@p! I was just counting and it's about two months away! Yikes! We won't be talking numbers here, but it's not one of the milestones you'd think would have such an effect, just like 26 wasn't.

Maybe it's a lot of things combined. The economy, the divorce, the loss of family members, the loss of my life as I knew it, the upcoming, inevitable surgery and so on. Who knows?

I want to thank you for stopping in and visiting, it's such an honor. And for getting all the way down to the end of this gloomy little post I'm going to leave you with another quote, also by Robert Fulghum from All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten:

"Every person passing through this life will unknowingly leave

something and take something away.

Most of this "something" cannot be seen or heard

or numbered or scientifically detected or counted.

It's what we leave in the minds of other people

and what they leave in ours.

Memory.

The census doesn't count it.

Nothing counts without it."

Life in a Coffee Cup Post

When I began this post it seemed to grow until it was actually two stories in one. Had I kept going, I would have wound up with a book, not a post.

For some time now I've been wanting to record stories of the lives of my parents and growing up with them. So periodically I'll post a tale of a time gone by, hoping to save it from the dust bunnies of lost dreams and memories.

Most people seem to have special stories of their family, both happy and sad, but few ever get recorded and as time passes, poignant memories fade. Details vanish. Names of images in old photos are lost and as a result, a lot of our own history is lost.

My mom always thought she'd have time to write the names on the back of those pictured in old photos. It never happened. Like every other wish and good intention, it was lost in the milieux of living. So without further ado, I give you a little story of my father.

Mornings with George and the Gang

My dad had owned his own company for many years. The kind of work his company performed was major rebuilding of printing presses. As a result he spent many days traveling across the states, usually by car to look at possible jobs so he could estimate crew size and costs. He loved to drive and I inherited this love.

When feeling stressed or crazy, one of the best remedies is getting in the car and just driving. In the past, nowhere in particular, just getting out of one's head and looking at new scenery was the goal.

In recent years, the cost of gas has made it more imperative to at least have a destination or purpose for the journey. The only requirement still was that it had to be at least an good 50 miles one way and not all be freeway or highway driving. But I digress, as always.

Retiring, was the worst thing my father could have done, like many men his age, it was all he'd ever known and as a group they went into the labor force early due to the Great Depression (the first one). As a result, he was often bored with facing long days of doing nothing and as a result had to find several new "habits" to replace the ones he had when he was working.

He had informed my mother that he would not be doing housework upon retirement. He did enjoy washing up the dinner dishes though for some reason. After about a year of this and with her health declining, mom hired someone to come in to clean every month.

The other problem with retirement for self-made men of his era is that they'd never had time when working to develop friendships with men the way women usually do, so in retirement he had no one to hang out with. Well, other than my mother, and despite his undying love for her, he could only take the 24/7 with her for so long.

One new habit was to get up early as he always had and go over to the local George Webb's for coffee and sometimes breakfast. Now mind you, mom would have happily gotten up and cooked a lovely breakfast and dad had proven a very capable cook himself over the years.

If my little brother or I were home, he'd trade off with mom and cook us breakfast. One had a choice of sunny-side-up, over-easy or scrambled. His sunny-side-up eggs were to die for so we always chose those! Nice runny yolk, not wiggly whites. Perfectly done. Yum! But back to my story.

The customers at Webb's in the early morning hours were men much like my father, with no place to go socially. They had been foisted into the labor pool very young because of the depression. There was no time to think of anything but putting food on the table and keeping a roof over your head and your family.

So gradually a group of disparate buddies developed. They were alike but each had such a different story. The common bond was that of an unidentified (to them) feeling of suddenly being left without a purpose. Their whole life had been work and family. That bond was sharing a cup of coffee in the morning with other men and debating the state of the world.

It's important to mention here that, these quasi-friendships went no further. Men of my dad's era weren't taught such social skills. Friendships that developed through sports like golf didn't take root until the next generation came along.

When dad came home afterwards and you could see he felt worthwhile, like he had solved the problems of the world. He'd retire to the den, his recliner, open whatever current book on history or politics he was reading and most likely drift off into a peaceful slumber. So went his retirement.

Fire in the Hood Post

Well, it was yet another sleepless night in my area of So Cal. I was minding my own business and surfing the web, only to be blown away by screaming sirens, fire trucks, police cars and loud walkie talkie messages back and forth! Life here is just so special...and tonight really, really smoky.

Can't tell what's going on but this is the most emergency vehicles within less than a block since I've lived here. Tried to call the police but no one answered. My bedroom office house...wreaks of smoke. Since there are five fire engines, I imagine a house or apartment building is going up in flames.

At first, looking out, I thought it was a drug bust or something like that, due to men running and yelling with arms out front as if guns were drawn. Then more fire trucks from surrounding cities screamed in. Gheesh.

Finally got through to the police and yes, it's a house on fire, just five houses to the East of this rental. Not a welcome thought.

It all started at about 12:30 a.m. and it's now 5:15 a.m. All the equipment is still out there with all their lights twirling and flashing. Must have been some fire. It's times like this that I feel so sorry for owners/renters, whatever....and how much history they may have lost. It just hurts.

Morning Post

Man, I was up late! At least for me... 3:20 a.m. Not being able to fall asleep ranks near the top of my list of things that make me feel crazy. It's so annoying. And Blue wasn't any help! Just as I'd start to drift off, he'd want to go out and do his business (aka, poop). In desperation, I poured myself a glass of wine and a very small cup of the same for him, in hopes we'd both drift off and fall asleep.

An hour later, we were both still awake. Blue had to go out yet again. There was more than one benefit of letting him out...I got to see something I would have missed. A GORGEOUS misty fog had settled over this area of land. The smallest sliver of a silver moon glowed through the haze. Purely enchanting. Wish I could have taken a picture of it!

If only I could make my digital camera work like my SLR film camera. Not being able to, just annoys me to no end! Could use the SLR (single lens reflex) but then I'd have to find film and so on.

Would rather have a DSLR (digital single lens reflex). Two problems with this wish though, first the prices start around $600 and only go up into thousands. Yikes. Second, so very many choices! Wish there was a source for trying some brands out just to see what they can do.

So the misty moonlit image I saw will have to remain in my cranium which is too bad because it was stunning!

The Significantly Insignificant Things Post

Years ago, while sorting through my parents' belongings with my brother, small discoveries were made. My dad's shoes had holes in the soles with cardboard covering them. This, from a man who always prided himself on his dapper style of dress.

Dad circa 1953-4

It's from him (along with my mom) that we inherited our love of well-made leather shoes. If you want good foot health, leather soles are a must IMHO. They breathe and cushion your tootsies in a way no synthetic sole can.

Guess I'll never be a vegan. A good pair of classically styled, well-made leather  shoes...worth every penny. What I find interesting is that they were ahead of their time in that it's certainly more earth-friendly to buy quality and then preserve it with minimal waste (re-heeling and resoling), rather than just tossing used shoes out and buying more.

We were taught a few cardinal rules of proper shoe care:
     -one never wore the rubber part of the heels down to the actual shoe heel, you had them reheeled
     -if the soles wore through, you resoled them (not with a synthetic product)
     -you polished and buffed your shoes with shoe polish and a proper brush regularly

My parents were not rich but weren't lacking in money for the basics, so this little discovery shocked the heck out of us.

Why had this happened? How? When? Maybe as you hit a certain age, you just stop worrying about the details.

All I can say is that I'll never forget the look on my brother's face as he carried the shoes over to the bed where I was sorting other things. The look of shock and dismay was so intense. It was as if he were a child again and a parent had disappointed him. But now, he couldn't ask "why?"....

While on the subject of holes in shoes, I ran across this which I thought was interesting. It's what I call the "Depression" mentality on holes and resoling.

The problem is that this mentality doesn't explain my dad allowing the holes to go all the way through to his feet. One doesn't wait that long, because then the bed of the sole is ruined. On top of that, there's the covering of the holes with cardboard...makes no sense.

In mom's closet I'd discovered boxes of S and H Green Stamp books with the stamps all glued in place. What was she saving them for? I also found a gift type box filled with old red cancelled postage stamps from the early 1950's.

Again...why? It wasn't like these were in the spare room that she used for storage. These were in her day-to-day bedroom closet with things currently in use. Yet another question never to be answered.

S & H Green Stamp Books

Some things you simply can't prepare for. For example, let's just imagine what my mom's reaction would have been if I'd said (excuse me while I peel myself off the floor where I was rolling in fits of laughter at this thought) I wanted to go through her closet...the answer would have been a firm "no". The "don't ever go there again" would have been implicit.

But there's so much else that you could think of in the way of completing their histories and thus yours. It's information that will be forever lost to you. Never forget Mark Twain's words,  "...years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did...."

So if you're reading this, take a little time to record what you remember. Often, simple retelling of stories is the easiest way to do this. By doing this while you still have your family, they can help fill in the blanks!

A few months before my parents died, I was "home" and the three of us were sitting in their den. I asked them how they met. Mom became all shy and school girl-like. Dad looked off into a distance only he could see and after a pause, began telling the story. He'd glance every now and then at mom, in a way one looks at a another when seeing them as they had appeared so very long ago, in the very memory they were reliving.

It was truly magical and something one doesn't witness often. They seemed to see each other as they had in that moment so long ago. I'll never forget it. It was like being a witness to time suspended.

It's a romantic story that will be with me forever but would have vanished into the winds of eternity had I not taken time to ask. I'll share it with you, but in a future post. I'm going to go and be alone with the warmth of this memory for now.

I think I've written this before, but it deserves repeating,

Memories don't belong in drawers.

George Burns (1896 - 1996)

"Super Humidity?" Post

No rain last night and I noticed the weather prognosticators have altered their predictions to a 90% chance this morning. The ground did get a bit wet here and there...gosh, I don't know what to call it! It wasn't just mist but not enough to actually be described as drizzle. Maybe you could call it "super humidy"; a step or two above 100% humidity?

The sun peeked out for a split second and I ran to grab my camera determined to photograph the tomatoes, but in the few seconds it took, all hope of sunlight vanished behind the white-gray clouds.

That's it for today's blurb. Keep you fingers crossed for tomorrow's sun so I can take some photos.

Facing the Chimera and Winning...for Now... Post

Note:  Edited on 1/29/12 due to blathering.

Good grief I can write long posts! Of course that doesn't deter me from continuing on in the same lengthy fashion apparently...just a little warning...this is another long one.

After reading my last post, I still wasn't happy with what I wrote. Still too much ranting and fighting at  things I can't change. So I found myself reading my own post (Lol!) on miracles and letting go. When I wrote the "Special End Post", I still hadn't stopped trying to push away the fear.

I think there are two kinds of "fighting" in life, the kind where you rant, rave and shake your fist at the sky. Then there's the kind where you sit down, relax and realize that within a certain period of time all of what you are facing will be resolved. The later does not imply "giving in", being a martyr or a doormat, it simply means you see a problem in your path and realize that by not wasting energy fighting against a ghost, you allow simply allow it to sit there, looking at you and you, at it. You know in the end that you will overcome it.

Rather than ranting at thin air, you simply acknowledge it's existence and thus diffuse it of all power over you. That's the point at which you've won. No, you haven't won the battle you may face, but you now have the power to proceed not as the victim, rather as one who is aware of a chimera and looks through the fear it attempts to cast on you and control you with. Thus you sap it's power, you defeat it. This is not to say the path will be easy, but you will be the one taking each step forward, not running in hopes of hiding from it.

Conquering any difficulty always gives one a secret joy,

for it means pushing back a boundary line

and adding to one's liberty.

Henri Frederic Amiel

I suppose I should fill you in on what I'm talking about in metaphors.

Okay, here goes...for a while my left knee has periodically caused me pain. In the last 8 months it has gotten worse and affected my day-to-day life. Finally, the doctor at the low cost clinic, ordered an MRI. The first Saturday in Jan. I saw the rheumatologist again, this time for the test results. He was quite frank and said three things:  "you shouldn't be able to walk", "you should be in a wheel chair" and "you need a complete knee replacement".

Let's just take a look at that special "bedside manner" shall we? (Author's note:  read that last statement with dripping sarcasm.) I'll let you fill in the rest.

My options are limited. (This is the section that was edited for too much babbling.)   :)

I joked to a friend (remember, I try to find humor) that if and when I go to the hospital, I'll have to write "this knee" and "not this knee" on my legs just to be safe. She said they actually do make you do that!!!!! That's just plain scary!

Okay, the chimera of fear I spoke of was in control as I contemplated my choices. Meanwhile, attempts to go out for the simplest things like food became an ordeal, often leaving me in a sad pile, once I got back into the car. Yes, pity party galore.

So that's it in a rather large nutshell. Now you know why I couldn't write. I would have just blathered and quacked on for days and it wouldn't have been pretty (I think this was bad enough!).

Looking back, I guess what I did on my little sabbatical was to re-screw my head on. In past posts I wrote about the ten-plus years of losses. Here was the latest "thing" to plop into my lap. Basically kind of a metaphorical boulder and it required some re-tuning of the psyche. (I really thought the losses had finally come to an end, but I was wrong, I know I have a quote somewhere that encapsulates that perfectly.)

Anyhow...while away, I once again just surrendered it all. No amount of worry will help in any way. I know the facts and fretting can't change them. A soft peace enveloped me, kind of like a well-worn quilt. No, I'm not thrilled about this and nothing is solved. I simply decided to go step by limping step (you can laugh here). First, I'll be getting a second opinion and possibly third opinion, using doctors in my health plan. I'm also going to sign up to be seen at County, I heard the wait list is very long (six to eight months).

Since that's all that can be done at the moment, I'm going to go about my daily business and not worry.

So there you have it. I won't "go gentle into that good night" but I'm not going to rage at phantoms of fear and the unknown. I started a limited bit of exercise. Doing leg lifts as instructed years ago by an ortho doctor, and several things to strengthen the arms and back. Nothing strenuous, just a small commitment to myself. There are a few other things I noted that would improve my general happiness so I've added them to the list.

Among them, will be to continue to write this blog. Including what challenges I face as I progress through this chapter of life. Who knows, maybe someone will learn something (I know I sure will) that will help them in a similar circumstance which would be great. Even if that doesn't happen, I will not just crawl back into bed and carry on with my own little pity party (well, there may be a small detour there, now and then but I think my current mind-set will help limit that).

I can be changed by what happens to me.

But I refuse to be reduced by it.

Maya Angelou

In closing, I want to thank you if you got this far! You are indeed a brave soul! I think what "rage against the dying of the light" means to me is to live out loud and this blog is my way of doing that. It was, after all, my way of getting through life and all its sorrows and joys when I began it. Over the last few years I've changed as have my posts but I still write primarily for me. If anyone finds something worth reading, that's the icing on the cake as I've said in the past. The people and friends I meet along the way are the cherries and candles that dot the top and help me celebrate the whole crazy thing and I thank and treasure them for it!!!

Every person passing through this life

will unknowingly leave something and

take something away.

Most of this “something” cannot be seen or heard or

numbered or scientifically detected or counted.

It’s what we leave in the minds of other people

and what they leave in ours.

Memory. 

The census doesn’t count it.
Nothing counts without it.

Robert Fulghum

Out of the Mire and From the Heart Post

Hello again and thank you for your kind patience. I truly appreciate it!

Now for the *"critically important news":  on the weather front...it sprinkled Sunday evening, most of  Monday and on into the evening. Very nice, quite refreshing. *Sorry, I couldn't resist! Lol!

Just to the left of center is the silhouette of a tiny little finch drying out on Monday evening.

While on my little mental holiday, I had lots of time to think, read and surf the internet. Funny what one can come away with after a little silence of the brain...stopping ceaseless output and just quietly absorbing...quite amazing. I ran across some quotes that gave me pause...such as:

To live is the rarest thing in the world.

Most people exist, that is all.

Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

Written over a century ago....

(Note:  two other quotes have been added to the right-hand side column.)

Let me see if I can explain a bit better. It seems to me, life is so over-sensationalized, so hyped up, so oriented to the next best/biggest thing...what can top that event, this story, that person and so on. And, I should add, always in a negative context.

Even the poor old weather, going about it's daily, seasonal business cannot escape the glittering generalities, but instead becomes "the worst (insert impending disaster and/or doom here) of the decade or century or all recorded history". There is no pause, no escape from the bombardment. In fact one recent weather headline made me think of "Chicken Little" and "the sky is falling" from ages ago.

It's not like I didn't write any posts while away, there are, in fact, about thirty-something of them. Just none "good enough". There was my post (which you'll never see) about the events leading to my post on the oblivious and rude manner in which most people go through life. No sense of common courtesy (or even common sense for that matter), personal responsibility for one's actions or thought of others...only self-involvement. Take Twitter and Facebook, what are they (for the most part) other than electronic billboards for what "you're" doing, following and liking (or not liking). Someone "un-friends" you and you die of mortification. Really? Seriously?

Is life so very tiny? It almost seems that existence has just turned into a glorified pile of superfluous nothingness. I don't want to sound preachy because I hate that kind of thing (yes, I said hate, a real feeling requires a real word, not a polite cover up) plus, I am the very last person to tell someone how to live. Really, I am! The absolute last! But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try in whatever small way I can, to make the world better and hopefully myself with it.

By the way, this is the reason that the list of favorite blogs on my site is so small...I'm very picky. Someone's writing has to speak on a deeper level. These blogs may have the elements I'm bemoaning above, but they also are written with heart.

When I went on hiatus it was because I felt I was a "bad" blogger. My posts were (and always have been) about things that I encountered as my life went on, starting with the hideous five year divorce. I thought I was getting better and personally, I think I was, until, the beginning of the second week in January, when life just kind of started sneaking in, again (serves me right for talking about miracles). I was faced with events that were less than positive (ha!) and would affect the quality of my life. So yes, this is/was all quite selfish.

Important thing was that my "vacation" started making me pay attention to articles, posts, and information that addressed life as it is not as defined by the world mass media. I found blogs on aging, poverty, on the disenfranchisement of large sections of our population by all the classics:  government, big business and of course the media. Segue:  One article I ran across was this...Link here...it disturbed me a great deal and illustrated the cold callousness of today's society.

Very few blogs address real life issues (IMHO). What one finds are diversions such as how to make a better blog for income, crafts and recycling materials into art, sites whose sole purpose is to show "pretty" photos they found and so on.

The heart will turn to a prune if love is always by the numbers.

How will you know if someone really loves you 

if they only meet your expectations and not your needs?

Robert Fulghum

It's not that such information is in any way bad, in fact if we didn't have something uplifting out there, we'd all just wither from some of life's uphill battles. There simply seemed to be a lack of people really talking about real life with any depth and without fear of their blog being unpopular. Sites I did come across that at first seemed to do this, were about subjects addressing political, religious or personal agendas. But they weren't offering thoughts about changing things other than for you to, in some way, agree or join in with whatever they were currently embracing.

Again, this isn't bad, it just seems to be a limited perspective. The more I thought about it, the more I felt compelled to speak. Not just about what was going good in my life but what wasn't. Things that are facing or probably will face everyone at some point in time. So rather than just crawl back into the shadows and stay on hiatus, I decided to be true to my feelings, thoughts and experiences.

I'm not saying this is going to turn into some sort of ranting platform, rather, as I run across bumps in the road, I am going to write about them and how I feel. I learned in my twenties that holding negative energy ("stuff") in, eats one up inside. Maybe something I find on my path to making my life better will help someone else. Who can say? I just know that I love writing and in order to be popular, I'm not going to pretend that life is a bowl of cherries, well...maybe it is, but cherries have pits.

Life is messy, forgot who said that but I couldn't have put it better. And the sooner we show up for life*, acknowledging it's not always a cakewalk, the sooner we may find a way out of the mire we're currently in.  (*someone else said that too, but I forgot who)

Lines from the Dylan Thomas piece that I read at my dad's funeral were floating through my mind before, during and after writing this..."Do not go gentle into that good night". Here is a link to a beautiful essay explaining Thomas' poem. I hope you'll read his poem (below) and then take a look at the essay.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

P.S. I've loved and been moved by this piece ever since I first read it in grade school. Even then it struck me as a powerful statement on living fully and not just fading away in the face of life's battles.


To be continued in a day or four.

The Presence of Miracles Post

Was having a bit of a hard time today. Even though my knee looks like a basketball, I tackled cleaning out the fridge, freezer and vegetable bin. Was quite proud of myself. 

In the interest of being more positive, I'm stopping at this point. Let's just call it garbage can problem-week three. I'd accomplished something I've wanted to do for some time which was to clean out the freezer, something I haven't done for over two years. It had become the great wall of icy unknowns. The rest goes sort of downhill after that, but as I said, we won't go there today.

Funny, after a little meltdown and pity party, it dawned on me as I wrote this, that it will all work out in the end. Why get all worked up over something I have no control over? 

This is an amazing realization for me. You know how "you can know something" but until you internalize it, the meaning stays "on the surface" so to speak? (Does that make any sense?) Well, I had finally unconsciously embraced the meaning of my dad's words after many years.

In the past I would have been having hissy-fits, which in the end only hurt me and for what purpose? It wouldn't have made me happier. Life happens. Just go with it. Somehow, a month or so from now, it will all be resolved so why fight it? 

This thought took me down memory lane...back to when my father was alive. I loved talking to him about business. He was so brilliant and had experienced so much in his life. Once I called him in the late 80's when I was having a horrid time at work. We talked about solutions and how to look at things. He used stories from his life to illustrate how experience taught him what he was relaying to me.

I loved his stories. He told me to have a picture in my mind of a month or two or three down the road when it was all over. It wasn't an eternity. No matter what I faced in the present, he said to keep that vision in mind because by then, the problems would most likely be resolved. It wasn't easy to do but he was right.

It's something I've tried to remember throughout my life, not always successfully. At least, not until today. Once I'd calmed down and accepted the problem, I called the property manager, explained the gardeners used both cans so I had nowhere to put the trash and it had been like this for three weeks. She said she'd take care of it. 

You'll recall P and A who live in the back house? Because of my knee problem, P's been kind enough to take the cans out to the curb for me over the last few months. I called and left him a message not to bother, that the problem would be solved. In spite of that, he managed to jam several bags into the loaded cans and was rolling them out. 

Seeing this, I ran (more like hobbled) out to tell him not to worry about it and he told me not to worry about it! The cans went out to the curb and he took the bags he couldn't fit in, back to their own garbage bin. I was stunned and thanked him profusely. 

As a result of letting go, a wonderful little blessing dropped into my lap. If I were a church going soul, this is what I would say qualifies for the monicker "let go and let God". But even though I'm not, I think it illustrates the quality of grace.

When you let grace into your life and try to extend it to others, wondrous things can happen... we just need to stay in a place of quiet acceptance in order to see these marvels, thus allowing them to manifest.

When you give up trying to fight and control life, all on your own, it just magically becomes easier. When we fight life, we miss all the invisible grace that surrounds us on this earth. Maybe that's what's meant by surrendering the ego. 

By acknowledging that we're vulnerable and can't do it all, we're embracing the concept of grace which allows a certain serenity to surround us. When we fight things with an attitude of "I can do it all myself" we block grace and keep it from entering our lives.

I have no idea where all of this came from today, but this evening I feel so much better not having put myself through the ringer of anger.  Miracles are around us every second of every day, just waiting to be seen, waiting to be allowed "in". This year, regardless of your religious or non-religious beliefs, let them find you. They're waiting.

There are two ways to live,

you can live as if nothing is a miracle 

or you can live as if everything is a miracle. 

Albert Einstein

Another Grocery Tale Post

While out picking up a few things to eat, I happened to walk down the soup aisle. I glanced at Campbell's condensed soups and just about fell over. Are you ready? The price posted below each row of cans read $2.19. I probably should have told you to sit down. Sorry.

Can you believe this? Seriously? They must be nuts! For canned condensed soups that are made with chemicals? Really? How do they rationalize this?

Normally I don't eat canned soups, preferring to make them from scratch. It's just that for the last months, I've sort of relied on them in the malaise that seems to be in my life at the moment. Well, those and pre-made salads.

This would have really given me fits, if it weren't for the fact that at this time of year you can score some pretty great sales on these things. Recently I picked up an assortment of Progresso soups for $0.99 per can, a substantial price reduction. Right now the number of stores having sales and coupons for Campbell's soups is abundant. Sometimes restricted to one or two types, I did find one event that had all varieties for $0.59 each. It's the rest of the year that worries me.

Obviously I'm going to have to stock up a bit while the sales are on since I'm not going to pay $2.19, ever!

I won't go into how much ground beef / hamburger has gone up to. Well, maybe just a little...a year ago I thought $2.99 for 80% ground beef was a lot, but you could still find it on sale for $1.79 and $1.99. It's currently priced at $4.99. I will say Yikes to that!

The Saga: Final Post

Back in the Midwest again, this time for my mom's funeral; as I said in an earlier post...deja vu. Rerun of a bad movie. I was again amazed at the number of people that appeared, people I went to grade school and high school with, some of whom I hadn't heard from in decades. As I said, I was a wreck. My brother wrote and read a poem about my parents' weekly, 10 a.m. Sunday phone calls which was thoughtful.

I read Auden again and some Emily Dickinson, sobbing as before. Really, really bad movie rerun. My bro' arranged for the same type of wooden coffin as dad's. He brought her favorite heels for her. They didn't fit her feet now. Diabetes type two had taken a toll on her feet and legs but damn, they were on her feet again (whether they fit or not) and she was going to be dancing her way into eternity in them if he had anything to say about it.

This time he had all white flowers, a voluminous cloud of them, draped above her head and across the foot of the casket. White pillar candles and votives nestled in the flowers. Her signature red lipstick highlighted her face just as in life. The fragrance of the flowers brought back memories of Locker's Florist in the village during Spring. Breathtaking.

Again, no religious entity. Just loved ones and friends sending her off through all the tears, even though it broke our hearts.

After a while we all said goodbye and retired to their house. My brother's in-laws had arranged for nibbles. It was far more somber than my dad's funeral. I think because everyone was still stunned...29 days! How unfair!

I'm glad I read the W. H. Auden poem again. The last few lines will be inscribed upon my mind till I leave this world.

My brother and I stayed on for a week, clearing out the food (dry goods were donated to a food bank) and clothing etc. sorted and donated. Basically getting the house ready for sale. We laughed and were quiet when we'd trip over a memory. Of course, going through the day to day "stuff" was like trying to cross a mine field without incurring casualties. The most insignificant thing could trigger a cascade of emotions. The permanency of death was slowly descending upon us.

We left all the furniture in place so the house would "show" better. We interviewed a real estate agent and put it on the market.

The funeral home hadn't even gotten my dad's ashes to us when mom arrived on their doorstep. So we told them to hold onto them and when mom was done in the oven, put her ashes in with dad's.

Sorry about the oven comment but to this day "gallows humor" can creep out when I least expect it. It must be a sanity mechanism of one's brain...you can laugh or you can cry and I keep choosing to laugh when possible.

Gallows humor first appeared when my bro' and I were both home in late February of the same year because mom and dad had heart attacks together. Matching heart attacks as it were, how "cute".  (Taking a deep breath.) We were driving to the hospital in their car and my brother started making jokes about the whole situation which in turn, got me started and like so many rides home from my Aunt's after Thanksgiving, we were laughing hysterically at anything.

As we approached the hospital, my brother said we should probably appear more serious. I said, I agreed, we didn't want to appear to be horrid "children" to the nurses, laughing at the miserable state of affairs. (We, the "children", were in our late forties at that point.) On the way home, he said it was gallows humor.

What is gallows humor you ask? Per Wikipedia:  "Gallows humor is the type of humor that still manages to be funny in the face of, and in response to, a perfectly hopeless situation.^[1] It arises from stressful, traumatic, or life-threatening situations, often in circumstances such that death is perceived as impending and unavoidable." A perfect description!

That's pretty much it. Stopping for now. I may have a post or two down the road about further thoughts. Thank you for your patience, now go hug someone you love.

Rude Awakening Post

Life is what happens to you

while you're busy making other plans.

John Lennon 1940-1980

Hard to believe its been 31 years since he was shot. It only underscored (for me) the amazing viscosity of time and its ability to slip right through our fingers. My first cognition of its finite quality occurred when my parents died. The permanency of death and loss hit me like a ton of bricks.

A decade later, I'm beginning to see people my own age losing family and friends. It starkly illuminates the limitations of hours and days left on this earth.

This season, everything I've been experiencing has contributed to this vivid realization. Yesterday, I called my neighbor in the house behind me to let her know UPS had dropped a package for her on my porch. While talking, she invited me to a get-together on Saturday. She said it was mainly their families. Somehow we got on the topic of her mother and mentioning that she was 63 years old.

This caught me by surprise, it knocked the wind out of me...her mom is in my age range! The date stamp on my forehead burned with this realization. For so long I've lived my life as if it would never end. What was I thinking? Maybe we all live in this fog. Possibly if we didn't we'd go crazy.

I do think the media and advertising in this country, the ceaseless promotion of the concepts of youth and beauty, lull us into this delusion. I could get up on my little soapbox here and launch into my thoughts on the complete lack of ethics paraded in front of us by the banking and investment industries as well as big business and the talking heads in Washington...but I won't. I'll stay more focused.

Anyways, I don't know what I'll do with this kick in the head of reality, I'm pretty much just trying to wrap my brain around the concept and what my place in this world is at the moment. This much is clear, I can't just continue to "wait around" hoping for inspiration. As I said in an earlier post, this is "not where I thought I'd be at this point in my life".

Prior to the end of the world as I knew it, aka the divorce, my life lay mapped out before me with each step of the journey revealing itself to me at the appropriate time. Now, I'm lost, wandering aimlessly in a desert.

This quote (above) came to me, out of the blue a few days ago. I didn't realize that today was the anniversary of John Lennon's death till after this post was complete. The energies that can be harnessed in this world continue to amaze me. Appears as if a universal awareness of what today was, came from so many people that it permeated the ethers. A single universal consciousness of this day spread across the world.

Today, I wish you the gifts of clarity and peace. Don't wait and learn the hard way that things are not always what they seem.

Imagine......

Saga Continues Post

My, I was quite the serious little blogger yesterday wasn't I? Sheesh! Somehow I can't be quite as serious today...I have to take it in small doses with a bit of time between sharing stories. So the tale of that period when my parents died will be resumed at a later date. It's just a little too intense to re-live so close to the holidays.

However, having just re-read my post, I'll go on a little further with my tale. Maybe it's because I'm listening to Pandora's R and B and Pop holiday music. Makes it hard to feel sad to that kind of music. Plus there's something about this saga that's begging to be told. Can't explain it...kind of a gut feeling, nagging at me. No guarantee how far I'll get.

Thus back to this little memoir.

Just so you know, we didn't stand my dad's casket up in the corner or slug back a shot in his honor. Lol! But the grieving began. There's no escaping it. Here I am, more than ten years later, with tears welling up and the memories are as clear as if it all happened yesterday.

My mom was in a wheelchair at the funeral and had the most vacant look on her face. Almost like she was watching a play. When we got back to the house she said she kept thinking it was all a bad joke. That any second my dad would pop his head in and with a twinkle in his mischievous Irish eyes say "Surprise". But he never did.

Per his wishes, my father was cremated. My brother and I hired the caretakers full time for my mom. He lived on the East coast and I on the West. My parents home was in the middle. As I said, I should have just stayed there, time is such a gift and gone so fast.

My brother tried to convince mom to live with his family so she wouldn't be alone. But try as he might, she wouldn't budge. With dad gone, I think the house and her memories were all she felt was left.

My husband was still the man I married (not the doltoid I divorced years later) and upon arriving home he had a trip to a bed and breakfast in Wales followed by a visit to my penpal in the Netherlands lined up. We were gone ten days. Wales is stunningly beautiful in Spring, the countryside soothed my aching heart. I would love to live there. The time with my friend in the Netherlands was just the icing on the cake of life. But the experience was short lived.

Upon returning to L.A., I called my mom to let her know we had returned from the trip.

A day and a half later she died in her sleep. Just 29 days after my dad. I was devastated. It was like she held on until she knew I was home safe and sound.

The funeral had to be delayed a week due to the Memorial Day holiday weekend. On the flight to mom's I was awfully disoriented. Discombobulated would be the perfect word to describe it. I even left my calendar with it's history of six months of pain, on the plane when I got off. I had documented all the trips to and from the Midwest. All gone...as quickly as my parents.

Siskel (R) and Ebert (L)

Deja vu. It was like a bad re-run of a crumby movie. "I'll give it two thumbs down Rodger". My brother once again swung into action. Okay, need to stop here, this little walk down memory lane will be continued.

On a lighter note, Laurie at Crazy Aunt Purl asked about chili recipes (12/7/11) so I sent her this one. My mom used to make something almost identical when I was growing up:

Shirley's Fantastic Ohio Chile (where my friend came up with the name, I'll never know)

1 lb. lean ground beef

1 medium onion, chopped

1/2 - 1 green bell pepper, chopped

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

salt and pepper to taste

1 can dark red kidney beans

1 can regular stewed tomatoes

1 can tomato sauce

dash chili powder/cayenne red pepper to taste

Brown meat. Drain fat (if any). Add onion and bell pepper and sauté lightly. Then add the rest of the ingredients. Simmer for 30 minutes, uncovered. Serve with chopped onions or sour cream or grated cheddar or all of the above, on top.

This recipe is easily doubled.         

Changing the subject yet again, this little blog had 162 visits on Monday, 119 of them from Slovenia. I almost fell over when I saw those numbers! Hello, and thank you for visiting!

While listening to Pandora radio, the male a cappella group Straight No Chaser came on singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Totally divine! I LOVE that group, they have such wonderful voices and their music arrangements are amazing! Have a look for yourself, I think you'll enjoy it.

Sorry this was so long. Thanks for reading!