I Am Wondering

 

I had to parallel park last Friday when I voted early. I shocked myself when I executed it perfectly because the last time I did it was when I took my driver's test. Normally I try to squeeze into the open spot head first. Two stars for me that day, the first for my perfectly performed parallel parking job and the second for voting Democrat across the board.

I am 58 years old.

I remember when the Vietnam War finally came to a close and, while looking down my street from my bedroom window, wondered why there weren't parades celebrating it like we did when WWII ended.

I remember sitting on the rug in front of the TV watching Nixon announce his resignation. Looking to my left at my mother in the kitchen, I wondered why she wasn't watching it, too. I knew what was happening was important, even though I didn't understand all of it.

Now, I am sitting at my desk at home wondering how a mad man, an unstable TV personality, is the President of the United States. I am wondering how he is getting away with spewing vitriol the same way a male cat sprays his territory. It stinks and it is all around us.

The press, the protectors of the people and the searchers of truth, are being called the enemies of the people and yet the band plays on. Innocent minorities are being murdered by guns and others are threatened by Improvised Explosive Devises. Hateful white nationalists commit atrocious acts because of the leader of our country's hate-filled speeches.

When I was young, I complained to my mother that Billy, the boy next door, was calling me names. She taught me the rhyme, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." She said to say that to back to him every time he did it. Not the best parenting advice, but she did her best. I wondered why she thought it would work when each time I felt the sting inside of me because of his name calling.

Words matter. "The pen is mightier than the sword." They are sent out of our mouths with energy and affect the listeners. Words contain a unique power, greater than fists.

I am 58 years old and I am wondering how will this spiral of hateful, invective, and manipulative language will end. The President is filled with puss and disease and with his words he is spreading it to those that are vulnerable, weak, and without an immune system.

What is it going to take to make it stop? I wonder.

So I met this guy

I went out on a "date" last night. This is a serious question. At this point in my life, are only damaged men available? They've made wrong choices and have the injuries to show for it. Either their wounds are fresh and they want a woman friend to doctor them or their scars are thick and they only want sex.

Last night we met at the theatre and saw "A Star is Born" with Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper. The music was fantastic along with the acting. As always, Bradley was very easy on the eyes and Gaga is beautiful. But, the story line sucked. I never saw the 1976 version of the movie with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson because, frankly, I don't like either one of them. 

Back to last night and my so-called date. When the guy you are with only talks about how he is recovering from a bad marriage to a woman that has a personality disorder, in my head I am thinking, "Here we go again!" 

I listened. I gave advice. I taught him what I knew. I feel for the guy, but come on, Universe. Why are you putting yet another man in this situation in my path? I should get paid for this. He said he had a few friends tell him he should get help in the form of a therapist. I told him I agreed. He said, and I quote, "Why should I? I can talk to you." *sigh* I chuckled and replied, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but think it would help you. Plus, I'm not licensed."

As we said our goodbyes in the parking lot, I assured him that this is a friendship on my side, too. He gave me a glowing review about me as a person and human being in general. I walked the short few feet to my car, got in, started it, and said out loud to the Universe, "Seriously? You give me another one. Where is my reward? When do I get to win?" And with that short bitch session, I drove home.

My experience at Detwiler's farmers market earlier in the day probably didn't help. There was a couple that had a long debate together, blocking my view of the self-serve meat section and then, the cheese section. In grocery store time, it was forever! Was it really necessary to have a 3 minute discussion together on what pre-packaged lunch meet to buy? Then move your cart and your 2 large bodies to the cheeses and hold another meeting on what cheese was the best? Get off of my route, please. 

I finally got away from them, only to end up with another couple blocking the milk section. I swear. She was kissing his cheek telling him she was sorry and then he kissed her back speaking sweet nothings to her as they snuggled. In the grocery store. Blocking the milk. Not moving. I wanted to scream to them to stop the PDA and get out of my way. Instead I invaded their space and they moved a few inches and resumed G-rated shopping.

I don't begrudge anyone happiness. It's great! There is so little of it so please, make the best of it. Just let me grocery shop in peace and be aware of others around you. It's my world, too.

So, what am I trying to say? What's my point? I think you get it without me spelling it out.

As I turn 58

Every year around my birthday, I write about what I have learned in the previous year.

Elevator Bank at Amalie Arena

My sister, Eve, recently invited me to a Paul Simon concert at Amalie Arena in Tampa. I've learned a few things from that experience.

Apparently, I am not the only one that has problems remembering one what floor I parked. Normally, I write the floor and section in a small notebook I keep in my purse. With this creative solution that reminds patrons to remember, I only needed to take a pic! A gratitude of thank you to the people that thought outside the box. And, thank you for helping me feel better about myself.

• When Eve invited me, she told me we would be seated in the Terrace section. It made no difference to me and I accepted the invitation with happiness. What I didn't know was that the angle of the seating in this section was death defying and not a happy place for those that suffer from acrophobia. Even walking up the flight of stairs closest to our seats caused me panic. Eventually, we took a right to what we thought was our row. There were people that were already seated and they politely stood up to allow us to pass by. I was in full blown frozen mode and forced myself to walk, but not without the kindness of these strangers. They let me hold on to their arms or they took my hand as I passed in front of them. When we realized we should have taken a left instead of a right, I was filled with dread but I soldiered on! I was not going to pussy out, dammit, and we turned around. Plus, I had no choice. This same group of people stood up again to allow us to pass. Fear was pressing down on me as the people, for a second time, helped me walk by. One of them was an amazing woman. She kept up a steady stream of encouragement telling me that I was doing great! I was fine! Everything was OK! I was almost there. I knew she had to be a mother; I bet she was a good one. These people were gracious, empathetic, and without hesitation let down the societal barriers to help someone in need. I apologized profusely as I held on to them and made myself keep moving. One of them said, "At least you admit it." I replied, "I have no choice!" I don't even know what their faces look like because my eyes ping ponged between their arms and the floor. I do know what their hearts look like.
• We finally got to our seats and I realized that it didn't help me much to be seated. The backs of the seats in front of us were ankle height providing no barrier to a headfirst rolling downhill drop to my death. Adrenalin kept shooting through my body; escaping the situation was what the oldest evolutionary part of my brain, the brain stem, was telling my body to do. I made a comment to Eve that if I were sitting next to someone like a husband, I would ask him to drape his leg over my lap as maybe it would make me feel more secure. Eve offered to do so and it helped. She said it was comfortable. I don't know if she was telling me the truth or not but I put my hand on her leg and held on making sure not to cut off her blood supply from a death grip.

 

Lolly watching me talk to Poppy, who is in my arms.

I learned from Lolly that even though one has lived through an abusive past, recovery is possible. It has been 1.5 years since I adopted her. I can finally say that with regularity she accepts kisses as acts of love instead of threatening behavior, she no longer believes the broom is a tool of punishment, has no fear that I will take her food bowl from her while she is eating, can trust that I will keep to the schedule, and my touch will only provide her comfort. Whenever I look at her, my heart bursts with love. Her face could be a Disney character and it makes me smile.





As I reflect on becoming another year older, I am less patient and more patient, depending on the circumstance. I have learned that others' behavior is their problem, not mine. I don't have to take it to heart and I don't have to act on it. Being a loner by nature is not a bad thing, just different. I am not a beauty queen and that is okay. (Thank you, thyroid cancer.) Beauty is more than what size I wear and if I can talk to you, make you laugh, or help you, I am beautiful enough. Sorrows, joys, frustrations, and accomplishments are cars on a train and I watch as each one passes by. I don't stand at the station waiting for the train to stop to get on.

Please see the link below. I continue to strive, to learn. To let go.

https://www.school-for-champions.com/religion/buddhism_four_noble_truths.htm#.W50UY_ZReUk

Bed Mates

Poppy and Lolly napping

For the uninitiated, this is a pic of my 2 dogs. Poppy, in the forefront, is 6 years old next month. He is full Chihuahua and has papers. I have had him since he was a baby. By far, he is the most affectionate and smartest dog I have ever had the pleasure to know.

Lolly is the one on the far side. She looks like a Disney character, or an ice cream sandwich, or a Jersey Cow. It has been just over a year and a half since she has been in my life. Best guess on her lineage is that she is part Chihuahua part Jack Russell and she definitely does not have papers. However, she speaks both Spanish and English so she is valuable in her own right. Because of her less than stellar past, she dislikes strangers because they were the ones that took her many offspring when she wasn't yet ready. Also, keep brooms away from her. Kisses and affection are now on the positive side of the spectrum. Another gold star in her cap.

When I was very young, I was given 2 stuffed dogs. One was named Bluey (he had blue fur) and the other I named Mac. I still have Mac. This is what he looks like today:

When I look at him, it still amazes me he is here. Through all of the moves and tumult in my life, here he is! He probably could use a few more patches.

Mac and Bluey were my bedtime companions, one on each side. Because of Mac's shape, he was the one that got tucked closest to me, my arm around him, his head under my chin. I even brought them to college with me. That was when, out of embarrassment, I stopped sleeping with them. At first, it was a stressful adjustment for me. I had slept with them next to me since I was very young.

I still don't sleep with Mac. Instead I have Poppy. When we crawl into bed at night, Poppy runs up the bed to my right side and tucks his little head in my armpit, luxuriating in all of the affection I give him. He lifts his head to cover me in kisses, and then he settles down feeling loved.

Bluey is gone but I have Lolly. No matter what side Poppy ends up on, Lolly takes the other. She always has her back to me pressed up against me. I move, she moves. It is like I have a furry magnet attached to me.


I woke up in the middle of the night recently because I was hot. I felt like I couldn't move because I was tightly sandwiched between both dogs. I have a queen-sized bed but I can only spread out on it to the extent the dogs allow. I may as well be sleeping on a cot. Sometimes a very uncomfortably hot cot. I pushed them both away from me a few inches because claustrophobia was kicking in. They were surprised and unhappy about where they found themselves but I felt like an oversized hot dog in an undersized bun.

Dear Ray

I have a very old friend. It's not his age that is old, it is the length of time we have known each other. We met, or should I say I introduced myself to him, at the beginning of freshman year in college. I can still remember the first time I saw him walking on campus in his high school wrestling letter jacket. Do high schools still do that? Have letter jackets?

Ray in High School. He still looked like this Freshman year. Cute, right?

He and I have been in and out of touch throughout the years. No matter what, even though we have grown, changed, and went our separate ways, we still have a connection. We can get mad at each other, think the other one is obnoxious, wonder "WTF!" about each other, but there is still that abiding love and respect. (Right now my pal would have to add a comment like, "Maybe for you," and then laugh.)

We were young and stupid when we met. That we both agree on. I could have treated him better and he could have been more assertive. Should have, could have, would have. It doesn't matter. It was and we are.

Ray has been sick for a very long time. He used to drink. A lot and often. When I introduced myself to him, we were at a bar. Being naive and sheltered at the time, I didn't know how to recognize alcoholism. I still think Ray hid it from me, but he disagrees...I think.

Anyway, he drank himself into needing and receiving a liver transplant. He did quit drinking and hasn't partook in nearly 20 years. You have to give him a lot of credit! This is just one reason I respect him.

Since then, his kidneys were damaged and he is on kidney dialysis awaiting another organ transplant. Here is what is probably an incomplete list of what has happened since:

• 4 hernia operations
• Fluid removed from his brain
• 3 strokes
• Open heart surgery to replace a heart valve

Recently, he is back in the hospital. His back was hurting and then he couldn't breath. After living through a painful backbone biopsy where the instrument got stuck in his back during the procedure and having a tube put in his back between 2 ribs to drain infected fluid from his lungs, he finds out he has a staff infection in his bones and elsewhere. The heart valve he had put in not that long ago is infected, too, so that needs to be replaced.

He has all kinds of doctors taking care of him. He says the nurses are wonderful. Ray is now a case study and interns are learning about him.

Last night, I spoke to Ray on the phone. He told me that one of the docs isn't comfortable replacing his heart valve until they check out the possible blood clot in his brain. What?! The past week or so, Ray keeps revealing a new problem the docs have discovered. I am speechless, over and over. I wonder to myself, "How is he doing it? How does he keep going?"

Ray laughs on the phone at one of his bad jokes. I roll my eyes on the other end and I'm sure he can hear me do it. He says he keeps going because he has to. He tries not to think about it. Last week he confessed that he did think about drinking once but it was brief. It wouldn't get him anywhere.

A few days ago he told me about a ghost that resides in his hospital room. A few times it has walked by his bed and squeezed his toes. It also makes noises in the bathroom. When he said, "Hello there," to the ghost, it responded by giggling.

We both believe in past lives. Because of all the physical suffering he has gone through and continues to experience, he is convinced he was Hitler and Karma is taking its toll.

What I know to be fact is that I have never heard him moan, "Why me?" I have never heard him feel sorry for himself. Sure he has cried. I mean, come on! He tells me he keeps fighting because there is no other choice. Spoken like a true wrestler. You don't stop until you are pinned and the ref calls it.

It Has Been Awhile

It has been awhile since I last wrote you. I have thought about you; I have missed you. So, I am reaching back out to you.

Remember I talked about my neighborhood and the homeless guy that created a life in the carport of the house next door? That house is now being renovated and he had to go. I still see him walking up and down my street with his cart full of recycling so he still lives somewhere close by.

Lolly is sitting on my lap as I write this. She now comes to me for affection and doesn't growl in response to kisses on her head. She continues to heal from the wounds caused by her abusive past but has made tremendous headway.

Chihuahuas are the only dogs with the ability to make tears. Poppy has never done it but Lolly, even being part Jack Russell, does. The darker spots under her eyes is because her fur is wet from them. She will look at me with love and tear up!

I have been on a dating website for a couple of weeks now. It's been interesting! Fun, too. I give it a thumbs up. The trick is to be happy first so that anything else that comes along is icing on the cake.

Work has been fantastic, as always. No job is perfect but mine is pretty damn close to it! I can thank the people I work with for that. We are a healthy growing organization and I am proud to be a part of it.

It rained for a solid 2 weeks. We finally saw the sun again a couple of days ago. Instead of feeling depressed by it, I got anxious and wired. It is good to see the sky blue again.

For those that have read my posts about my mother, she's hanging in there! At 83 she is still in her home and driving. My younger sister and I tag team making sure one of us has either spoken to her or seen her that day. 

I've talked about everything but my health so here it goes. You know I have had thyroid cancer and then a closed head injury. I recovered from both so now there is something new. I have seen 5 health professionals about it, so far. Hopefully I am closer to an answer than before. I have one more that I am awaiting an appointment to be made and that is with an infectious disease doctor. At this point, I have had to talk about it so much that I am sick of talking about it. I'll just say that my symptoms of lower back pain and cyclical low grade fevers has been going on since last September. Aspirin is the only thing that has been taking the edge off. Some days are more difficult to function than others, but can't we all say that?

You are basically caught up now. Wait! One more thing. This year is my 40th High School reunion. I am not going to attend. It really wasn't the best time in my life so why experience it all over again? Some classmates are very excited about it but then again they still call each other by the nicknames they gave each other in High School.

Ok. Now you are caught up. Well, I do want to say one more thing. I am happy. The world is turning to shit because of our asinine president and my health is in question, but I am happy. Content. You know who I can thank for that? Jim. He taught me the principles of how to do that. I put them into practice.

Just an Ant's World

I walk Lolly and Pop every night after work. A few days ago, Poppy decided to pee on an ant hill. We have red ants in Florida and they are mean SOBs. He lifted his leg and the warm stream of urine rained. Pissed off (pun intended) ants showed up to the gun and knife fight looking for blood and revenge. Poppy had already walked away. Are you an ant...or Poppy? Maybe you are me, holding the leash while watching the show. 

It's all a Part of the Ride

Because of the thyroid cancer, I had to come to terms with changes that took place with my body including all of the things that happened prior to the diagnosis and then the results of the various treatments. Then, I had to learn to live with the repercussions from a closed head injury. To quote Vice President Dan Quayle:

"What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is."

That was my life for nearly 2 years as I healed. 

As I get closer to being 60 years old, I see the signs of aging. Amazingly enough, having my hair go grey is not one of them. It is a salt and pepper mix and still dark. One of the things my father gave me.

What I am noticing that is bothering me is the differences I am seeing in my skin. When I run one hand down my arm and over the top of my other hand, I see ripples. Lines form in response to the pressure and then disappear. My skin is telling me I am older.

I don't feel older in a lot of ways. I still have so much fun when my inner child still runs the show, especially at the local amusement center. I enjoy playing air hockey, Down the Clown, ICE Ball FX Alley Roller, and the video game House of the Dead 2. Having had to live with the complications of reality, I know the importance of letting loose and playing, of being a child.

 A small child only has to be, grow, and learn. Even though my body is exhibiting signs that I am nearing 60, I am still being, growing, and learning. I am still having fun and cutting loose. I have gained insight, maturity, and truth. While I am always working on my humanity, I am able to say that I love myself unconditionally. 

Abuse, neglect, and ignorance ravages the mind, body, and soul. Love heals, secures, and creates warmth. In order to grow and learn, I have experienced all of it. This aging process is miraculous until eventually, the body dies and when we are ready, we start it all over again.


Last Friday at work, a conversation I had with 2 of my coworkers worked its way to the topic of the funeral/mourning process. There is a small island, that when a loved one dies, they build a funeral pyre and watch as the fire consumes the dead body. Because of the type of accelerant used, it is fast and hot. Once complete, the ashes are gathered and most often walked to the beach and thrown to the sea. The grievers participate in the ritual and experience closure.

Jews stand and watch as the casket is lowered into the ground. Then, by hand, trowel, or shovel, they take dirt from a nearby pile and drop it onto the coffin, which is now secured in the earth. It is quiet so all hear the dirt as it lands on the wood. The mourners are helping to fill the grave. It is the end and again, this physical experience provides closure.

Both of these processes engage the mourners' senses. Grief and death are to be acknowledged and experienced. 

The changes I am seeing in my body are forcing me to do the same. I am forced to admit I am not going to live in this body forever. This life as Nancy will be over one day and I am closer to that now than I was before.

Play, love, mourn, learn. Open yourself up to possibilities that you thought were out of your reach. Widen your life. Respect yourself. Accept yourself. And as you witness your physical changes, accept them as sign posts that the ride at the fair does come to an end. So, experience the highs, lows, twists, and turns with open eyes as you tightly grip the grab bar. Smile, laugh, scream. It's all a part of the ride.

 

Lunch Postponed

She tried to avoid him but couldn't. He kept making efforts to be in her life, even for just minutes at a time. An email asking her to lunch which she would schedule and then cancel. She did this twice and then when that didn't work, she told him how busy she was.  He said he understood and would wait. It was a temporary fix because he emailed a month later saying they should get together for lunch. She sighed when she read it and not knowing how to respond, she got up from her desk and walked away from her computer. She needed to think.

She wasn't married, but he was. Her kids were grown but his were young. She was older but only guessed at the number of years. Was this really all about her being a business prospect for him or was there more? She remembered meeting him for the first time. Looking into his eyes and smiling as they shook hands. He immediately knocked Jean-Luc Picard aka Patrick Stewart out of the top spot for sexiest bald man alive. She wanted to eat him up right there and then but restrained herself from showing it.

The one thing she didn't want was to have a one-sided fantasy or fuck over another woman.

When she was back at her computer, she re-opened his emailed invitation and responded with reasons why her company wasn't interested in his company and how it wouldn't be fair to waste each other's time. His response was that these things take time and he would love to have lunch with her. They reviewed their calendars and scheduled it.

She got to work that day and thought about canceling it again but decided that that would be rude to do it for a third time. He emailed her asking to move it up fifteen minutes in case his prior meeting ran late. He didn't want her stuck waiting for him. She replied that that was fine and thanked him for being considerate. He answered back thanking her for being flexible.

It was a beautiful day so she sat on the bench outside of the restaurant to wait for him. She was always early because to be on time was to be late. Pulling her phone from her purse, she opened the Scrabble app and resumed a game she had started before. Then, the air changed. Looking up, she saw him watching her as he stood by his open car door putting on his suit jacket. His face was intense yet relaxed and he made no move to hide it. She saw his soul; she knew him and knew that he knew her, too.

He walked up to her and she silently signaled she didn't want a hug. He read her correctly and didn't try. She didn't want to have to deal with that memory. To feel it over and over in her mind.

During lunch they talked about work, his family, her family and all of the rest of the things that make up small talk. She learned a bit more about him and the same for him about her. Mid-lunch their waitress quit because the cook called her a bitch and they both watched as she took off her apron, grabbed her purse, and walked out.

She couldn't help herself from stealing glances at his mouth, which was beautiful. His lips were full and his mouth wide. He was so hot that he made the needle of her moral compass quiver. 

As she ate, she pictured herself grabbing him by his lapels and smashing her mouth against his.

There were very few men that turned her on like this. It had always been like that for her. If she thought about it, there were probably only 2 others, ever. There was more than animal magnetism with him, though. They knew each other before, many times. How else could she explain the knowing, the feeling of it being right?

Lunch the following day was leftovers. She emailed him thanking him again. He emailed back saying they could make this a regular thing.