I looked like me!

The other day I looked in the mirror as I was leaving the bathroom and I had to go back and look again.  I could see myself after having not been able to for a very long time.  What was it?  The hair? The lighting?

I studied my reflection analytically instead of emotionally.  Different skin tone?  No.  I looked younger.  That was it.

One of the things that I have been consciously doing is actively unburdening myself to the point of throwing out or giving away things that I no longer need, want, or should have.  At first it was a slow process of calculating decisions like math problems.  Now it has become very easy and with that I have found a sense of freedom.  Just the other day I had to make a decision about something in the kitchen and poof!  Into the trash it went.  I shocked myself!  Anyone who has spent any amount of time with me knows that my decision-making process is arduous and painful as I, a typical Libra, will keep looking at all sides of a problem until eventually narrowing it down to the answer. For those that stampede through making up their minds, it is sheer hell until they jump in, take control, and make the decision for me.  Now I am taking control by letting go and it is working.

The small decisions are no more of this, that, and the other and that is making the larger decisions easier.   I am less burdened.

I have also accepted the fact that I talk to the dog, even when he is sleeping.  I laugh at myself and the things around me more often and more easily.  I allow myself to be goofy.  This is how I am, who I am, and I am happier. I like talking in silly voices.  I enjoy making up stories about the people I see.  I like playing the drums on the steering wheel while I listen to the radio in the car.  It's a long drive to and from work, people!

I am nicer to myself and because I am more accepting of myself I find that I am more accepting of others.  My inner voice is softer.  I don't have to listen to lectures anymore.  Instead I am outside on the playground admiring the pretty wildflowers or watching the sky spin as I ride the spinner.

I looked like me!

And Still

And still
It is no more
We are no more
Waiting for the memories to fade
From sharp to dull
Waiting for the distance to grow
From close to far
Waiting for the pain to cease
From wicked to sweet

I turn my head to the past
Looking back and seeing
What lacked.

I turn my head to the fore
Looking ahead and seeing
What?  More?

Inside room is made
For the music of rest
As Healing knits and sews
Weaves soft light
Into the fabric of my soul.

Alone with Time
Time for the rest
For the peace
So that forward becomes
Now
With a wholeness
A fullness
Awash in cool waters
Springing from the union
Of equality, peace, love, and
Harmony
Understanding, knowing, seeing
Time will bring it.
A bouquet of flowers in a basket.
Time will know
When to let the water flow.

Wow!

Last Sunday I woke up with a huge amount of lower back pain.  My sister, Eve, is an Occupational Therapist and after seeing me trying to get up from a seated position, she asked me specifically where and when it hurt. I went into a blabbering spiel trying to explain it.  She wrapped it up succinctly, "So it hurts when you are transitioning."  Yes!  That's it.  Eve went to work on my back with ice and a massage.  It helped quite a bit but afterward, on a bathroom break, I noticed my eyes were red and thought, "That's weird," and proceeded to go about my business.

The next day I woke up to a god awful headache, still the lower back pain, my eyes hurt, and I had a fever that kept breaking and returning.  Tuesday the same.  Wednesday I tried going into work and had to leave with only 1/2 a day under my belt.  While at work Wednesday, I got an automated call letting me know that my annual endocrinologist appointment was Monday.  Damn.  I had just thought about that in the middle of the night and quickly forgot it.  I needed blood work done prior to the office visit and I didn't have the script.

I got that faxed to me and then after getting home and taking a nap, I figured it was as good a time as any to go get the blood draw done.  Still feeling like dog poo, I ventured out.  

While in the waiting-to-be-checked-in area of the lab, I was able to see the people in the waiting-to-be-pricked/prodded/tested area of the lab.  In the chair closest to my area was an old man with a cane.  He had to be in his eighties and I thought how wonderful that he still gets around on his own.  What strength!  What tenacity!  His name was called and as he got up and started walking with the aid of his cane, he farted not just once but twice and long and loud.  He made neither apologies nor excuses.  He was not embarrassed.  He just kept walking to meet the tech down the hall.  "Wow," I thought with even more respect for the guy.

After I got home, I decided it was time to call my primary care doc.  This thing with the strange combination of symptoms was not getting better.  The Universe was on my side because I got a 9 am appointment for the following day.  That was my second "Wow!" moment of the day.  I can never get in to see her that quickly.

This morning my alarm went off and I wanted to stay in bed.  Pain in back.  Check.  Pain in head.  Check.  Pain in eyes.  Check.  Fever.  Check.  Get your ass up so you can see the doctor.  Check.

Since I have had my fill of doctors, I really only see them as a last resort.  I loved my primary doc in Baltimore and no one will ever be able to take his place.  I could always count on him being honest with me with a sprinkling of sympathy.  He was never brusque plus he was smart.  My heart still goes pitter patter just thinking about him.  Still thinking about him.......

I am still getting used to my relatively new primary doc of 2.5 years.  She is just as smart and just as sympathetic as Doc Baltimore and I know any issues that exist are mine, not hers.  And really, she is a no bullshitter, too.  When she walked into the exam room this morning, (a half an hour after my scheduled appointment time.  She is perpetually late so I mentally prepared myself for it.  My Baltimore doc was never more than 10 minutes late.) she didn't say, "Hello, Nancy.  How are you this morning?"  All she said was, "Nancy."

She knew that for me to come in because I wasn't feeling well there was something really wrong and that was all I needed - her understanding - and she gave it me with simply stating my name.

At what I presumed was the end of the visit because she left the room, my doc had her assistant come in to draw blood.  Two pokes later he had what he needed.  The second item on the list was getting me in to see an eye doctor to rule out some suspicions.  I could hear my doc speaking to her assistant - did I have my own eye doctor?  He knocked and popped back in my room to ask. Well, I saw a guy at Walmart that I had to go back to for a second eye exam because he screwed up the first eye exam so I don't think he counts.  The next thing I know he is asking me if I can go to an 11:25 appointment to an eye doctor just down the street.  "Why, yes!  Yes, I can."  Wow.  This is all working out and going smoothly.  To the eye doctor I go!

I get there early but no matter.  I watch the TV showing sea creatures walking around the bottom of the ocean floor set to classical music and is that really what I am seeing?  Is one sea creature eating another sea creature???  I fill out the paperwork, an assistant leads me to an exam room where she does not have fun trying to get drops in my eyes.  That nasty job done, she leads me out and we stop at a room with low lights that has 4 chairs and 2 people sitting across from each other.  They are mother and daughter and I know that because I saw them in the waiting area.  Instead of telling me to sit there, she tells me to sit back in the waiting area that is all windows and very bright.  Huh?  After I have seated myself she walks up to me and says that she didn't think I would want to sit there with all of those people.  What??  Of course I want to sit there.  I will be in pain otherwise.  She leads me back to the low light room as my eyes dilate.  The mother moves her seat to next to her daughter and I sit across from both.  It didn't have to be awkward.  After a bit, a different assistant takes me to a different exam room.  "Please sit in the big chair," I hear for the second time.  Inside I laugh as being told that makes me feel like a toddler.

After the drops, the dilation, and the exam, the scary things were ruled out by the eye doctor.  Whew!  No bad news but still no explanation.  The final stop is to get the x-ray which is located just down the street but the other direction.

It is noon when I drive up and the hours posted on the door indicate they are open from 8 am to 5 pm.  Cool.  I walk in and am told their tech, singular, just went to lunch, will be back at 1 pm, and I am more than welcome to  fill out the paperwork and wait or come back.  If I choose to leave and return my #1 spot will be saved.  I give the door a dirty look. My first thought is to leave, get a quick lunch and return with the promise no one will take my spot.  Hmmm....I trusted the door and look what happened.  I opted to stay, watch TV, and read a magazine.

As I'm sitting watching the news and not crustaceans eating each other, two copier repairmen walk in.  Why do they all look the same?  Does that sound awful of me? They are nerds in super hero capes as they are called when there is trouble and they always fix the problem.  

So, it was a long day.  I'll go back to work tomorrow.  I'll talk to my primary doctor tomorrow.  Oh, one last thing, my doc has no idea what I've got.  In the end, if nothing is discovered from all of the testing, we will chalk this one up to some kind of virus that I should be able to kick in about 10 days.  Yay.

Love is love is love

Sometimes Poppy likes to be held like a baby.  He nestles in my arms with his little head pressed against my neck and I rub his back.  When he is in my arms like this, I get very peaceful and calm.  I end up softly singing to him while gently rocking back and forth as I sit.  Half the time I think that if anyone saw me doing this they would think I had lost it.  The other half replies, "I don't care."

I held my kids like this.  I sang to them and I rocked them.  With my son it was mostly in the middle of the night when he couldn't get back to sleep.  With my daughter it was mainly trying to get her sleepy enough to take her afternoon nap.  I loved the feel of their small bodies pressed to my chest.  The smell of their heads and the feel of their hair as I tilted my head down to kiss theirs.  When Poppy requests this kind of time with me, I do it as much for him as I do it for me.

The only other person Poppy cuddles with like that is my mother.  When we visit sometimes she walks around her house holding him and talking to him.  He loves it!  My mother calls him, "Pee Wee" or "Peaty".   It's very cute.

When we were having our quiet time this morning, a very clear memory came popped in my head. I was very young and my family was at our summer camp, aka Camp Toothacres because almost every male in our family was a dentist.  Something happened that got me all in a twitter.  My older sister, Reesa, saw it as a golden opportunity to tease me. Since she is three years older I did not have the vocabulary needed to fight back so I screamed at her whatever I could muster.  This was even funnier to her.  I must have been loud enough that my father appeared out of nowhere and scooped me up into his arms, cooed to me, and rubbed my back as he walked with me.  At 53 I can still remember how it felt physically and the sweet relief that washed over my heart and mind. My father was my savior and I was complete.

Reesa tried to tell him why I was awful and he just said that I was little.  That took the wind out of her sails.  Poor Reesa!  As the oldest of 4 children, she was always put in the position of having to understand except when I would bite her but that's a whole other story for another time.

I have a lot of memories of my father.  This is one of my favorites and I think this is why there are princess stories.  Dad was the original prince and as little girls grow up, they want to feel that same kind of love and protection from their mates.

You're how old?

This afternoon I met with our payroll company representative.  He stops in about once a year.  If we were located in a more civilized part of the world we would probably see him more often as he enjoys the opportunity to talk face-to-face with us.  He always sticks a thermometer in our mouths.  "How's it going?  Any problems?"  No fever or ailments evident so he talks about the other products the company offers its clients.

I am either a salespersons wet dream or worst nightmare depending on the salesperson's style.  I will be blunt and up front and won't waste your time.  If you are an arm twister hard sell type just fuhgeddaboudit. I'm not budging so back off.

Poppy and I were the only ones in the office when he showed up for our meeting.  Poppy, being the LCF greeter for the day, met him at the door and decided he was OK.  "Entrez, s'il vous plait," said Poppy with a very fake French accent.  I looked at our rep, shook my head and said, "Chihuahuas....."

So, the rep (I'll call him Bob since I shouldn't use his real name) and I are talking while Poppy fell asleep in my arms bored out of his gourd when all of a sudden something very strange happened.  Bob and I are looking at a Simple IRA presentation on his tablet when Bob turns to me and says, "You're in your early 30s."  Say what?!

"You're not serious, right?  You're just trying to be nice."

"No.  I'm being serious.  I'm not trying to goof on you.  I could have sworn you told me you were born in 1978," Bob says as he looks at my face as if for the first time.  I know he's calculating something like the percentage of laugh lines times the number of grey hairs divided by visible wrinkles and thinking....isn't that her age???

"I'm 53," I say back.  He says, "Really?"

Just then a recent memory smacks me side the head.  I remembered saying yesterday to a friend of mine,"I hate the way I look.  I didn't used to look like this."  You see, my dears, when I had my neck dissection in 2010, a whole bunch of lymph nodes were removed from my neck.  This caused a fluid traffic jam in my face and neck because the fluid drainage highways no longer existed.  In order to help the fluid drain from my head and face, every day I do a massage of my neck and shoulder area to try to push the fluid along.  I hate it but if I don't the swelling in my face and neck is even more pronounced.  I hate the way I look because my face and neck are perpetually puffy.

I was embarrassed by what I said yesterday and how I feel every time I look in the mirror and Bob thinking I was 20 years younger than I really am was a kick in the pants and a wake-up call.  First, I need to stop being so critical of myself.  Secondly, I need to remember that I am alive and so far have survived cancer.  Thirdly, why is Poppy speaking French and not Spanish?
 

It's the law

One night last week, after working all day, driving an hour to get home, feeding the critters, and walking the dog, I ventured back out of the house to make a Publix run.  It is a short drive and I managed to find a most excellent parking spot.  After I got out of the car and started walking to the store entrance, I was nearly shoulder to shoulder with a member of law enforcement.  He confidently and with an air of grandiose ego law enforcement obnoxiousness moved ahead of me.  My immediate reaction was my gut clenching with annoyance but then I shot his back with a quick once over.

His head was a buzz cut and his uniform was dark green.   He looked surprising old to still be on the streets and not doing desk work.  Maybe he just isn't that good and never got promoted.

Sitting low on his waist he had on his super hero belt with all of its interesting and deadly gadgets intact. I bypassed his ass.  I was just not interested.  Then I saw his shoes.  What the heck?!  They were so shiny and perfect in their patent leather awesomeness!  Light rays from the Publix signage bounced off of them.  How does a cop, or sheriff's office deputy, or whatever manage to keep his shoes so clean?  Did he not have to run down any bad guys?  Did he not have to ummm....do his JOB.....and in the process get his shoes dirty?

The Publix near my house is small.  Instead of visiting and feeling regular sized, one feels like they are a part of a dollhouse.  I'm not sure what they were thinking when they decided to move into the space.  Maybe it was, "Let's find enough space to stock it with half the stuff we normally sell so when people walk the aisles they won't have trouble deciding what to buy because there isn't much stuff."  To make up for the lack of space to put stuff and sell stuff, someone decided to make the entry area unnecessarily large.  (Is this the same as when men buy large trucks?)

So, I'm still behind Mr. Law Enforcement when he stops to pick up a hand basket.  I need a basket too so I stop.  I wait as he chats up the homeless population 4 deep sitting on the long bench against the wall that one must walk by in order to get into the second door which leads the shopper to the inner sanctum of shopping.  As Mr. L. E., officer to you, is talking I am staring at the pile of hand baskets willing him to get started.  He reaches down and lifts up the top basket and I am thinking, "Finally!" but wait!  He lifts up the basket under the top basket, too.  He then lifts in unison the top two baskets and takes the 3rd one down.  What?  WHAT?

Does her really think the 3rd one down is cleaner, newer, better?  Why is the 3rd one down better?  Have the germs had more time to die on it?  Then it dawned on me.  That's why his shoes are so clean.  One word - OCD.  Okay, not one word but one acronym.  Anyway, he's a little spit shine crazy, isn't he?

Now it was my turn to pick up a basket.  I looked in the top one and no garbage was in it so I took it.

Good Men

Yesterday morning I took Poppy to the vet's office to see if he met the 5 lb minimum weight for Trifexis, a medication that prevents heartworm, kills fleas, and controls worms in one easy pill. It was very busy with the line 3 people deep waiting for the one person left manning the front desk trying to keep his cool while handling all of our needs. 

As Poppy and I waited patiently in line, he vacillated between wanting to be in my arms and wanting to be down on the floor. Up, down, up, down. Well, during one of the "down" times, he decided it was also a good time to poop. A couple barely out of their twenties sitting with a cuddly box of newborn puppies had front row seats. The husband, wearing his Sarasota corrections uniform, said, "I've got this." He walked to the nearby bathroom and brought me out paper towels. I took one, bent down and retrieved the poop and when I stood back up I saw he was standing there with another paper towel in hand. He said, "You can put it here," as he held out his hand. I handed it off to him and he finished taking care of the mess in the bathroom. I think I must have thanked him 5 times.

When he came back out of the bathroom, he walked over to his wife and said, "I washed my hands. Can I see one of the puppies?" She reached in the box and held one up to him and he kissed its little head.

That, my friends, was awe inspiring to me. His wife didn't say, "Honey, go help that woman out." He volunteered for the job because he wanted to, because he could, because he thought it was the right and good thing to do. He was johnny-on-the-spot. To him it was probably in-consequential, but to me it was fantastical! I think my heart even grew a size.

P.S. Poppy weighs 5.1 lbs., or possibly 5.2 lbs. Hard to get a good read on a moving target.

I WANT A COWBOY

I want a cowboy.
His jeans are soft from wear.
I want a cowboy.
Leather gloves and leather belt.
I want a cowboy.
He is true, kind, and strong.
I want a cowboy.
He knows right from wrong.

His mind is clear.
His skin is tan.
His heart knows love
For beast and man.

I want a cowboy.

Be True to Yourself

As we grow and mature, we are told many things in our lives in regard to how we should live, what we should believe, and the correct way to think and to act. I could go on and on but it is too nauseating to try. 

Unless one is a psychopath, most of us are born with an innate knowing. Gut feelings. Intuition. We are taught to not trust those feelings but instead to rationalize. This is especially true for women. How many times did you know something, talk yourself out of it, then realize you were correct? Be at peace and listen to that inner voice. We are more than flesh and blood. Our spirits live in our bodies. Your gut, your intuition will develop as you learn to listen to it and trust it. You inherently know what is right, what is good. 

Just be true to yourself. That is all I am asking.

Beauty Comes from the Soul

People, friends and strangers alike, will always have an opinion about how one should dress, how one should act, and what one should think. They formulate these based upon their own personal experiences, upbringing, social stigmas, level of insecurity, and level of love. Tattoos, hair color, hair style, clothing, and makeup are one's personal expression of inner self. If people, friends and stranger alike, can't hack it, it is their problem. You need not take that on and integrate it into your self worth. Beauty comes from the soul.

Green Eyes

I looked into his eyes and realized they were the most beautiful shade of green.  A deep forest green, depending on the light.  And then he smiled and oh, my.  I was lost.  I was gone.  The dimple in his chin was disarming. 

It wasn't until we went to the beach later that day did I realize something deeper happened when we met.  A shifting in my soul.  Like a seatbelt being buckled. Click.  I would never be the same.  I was connected to him.  My soul recognized him.  It wasn't my heart or my mind but deep within me - I knew him. 

I recently noticed his eyes again.  Such a beautiful shade of green.  A deep lush green found in the woods.  With love they looked back at me.

Time

The soreness and the pain
Must be worth the strain
To make the future better
To make the future last

The sadness and the tears
Pushing down the fears
To make the future better
To make the future last

Learning to be in the now
Shoulders heavy as I plow
To make the future better
To make the future last

Dancing to the music
Sometimes feeling sick
The crowd disperses
Dizzy, yelling curses
Raising my fist
Rage, feeling pist

Ending with exhaustion
Acceptance is my station
To make the future better
To make the future last

Aunt Audrey

Tomorrow my sister Eve, my mother, and I are driving down south to the East Coast to join my cousins and others to say our final farewell to my Aunt Audrey.  I don't know how else to put it except there was an affinity, an understanding, between my aunt and I.

 

Growing up she wasn't my only aunt and even though she lived the furthest away whenever I had the opportunity to spend time with her I always felt the most comfortable and accepted by her.  She laughed the easiest and had a way of making light of situations that instead of making me feel belittled for feeling so heavy I felt the load ease up and saw that maybe I was just a smidgen too serious about the whole thing.  Even though she was no pushover she never made me feel that I was any less when my introverted ways seemingly held me back.  She accepted me and didn't try to change me.  She challenged my thinking by talking to me and putt out other perspectives in front of me.  She knew I would think about what she said and make an informed decision that would be mine.  

 

So, I loved her not only because she was my mother's sister or my cousins' mother but because of how she loved me.  She knew she always had a place in my heart and I knew I was loved by her.

 

Goodbye, Aunt Audrey.  I'll see you again.

And now a word from our sponsor

If anyone is keeping up with my posts, you probably think I am a lunatic with wild mood swings.  I am actually someone very hurt from a freshly ended relationship and trying to find solace in writing.  It doesn't matter if I write about something funny, something sad, something true, or fiction.  If I am writing then I am helping to rid myself of the painful infection that keeps trying to build up in my bloodstream. 

I am mad at myself for feeling like this.  I should be happy it is over after all I am the one that ended it.  For months it had deteriorated until I had to cry uncle.  Even so, it is a loss and I must allow myself to grieve and give myself permission to one minute feel riddled with bullet holes and the next laughing.  I think part of the problem is I am normally more in control of my emotions and this time they are guiding the ship over rough waters making me seasick. 

Thanks for being there.  Thanks for sharing my life with me.

I Bet You Don't Even Care

My aunt passed away this morning.
I'm so sad.
You were supposed to be here.
I bet you don't even care.

You left months ago.
So hard to let go.
I should hate you but I don't.
My mind is willing but my heart won't.
I bet you don't even care.

Rose and Jeff cont.

She was happy yet scared.  How selfish was it of her that as Jeff faced the surgery that he needed to save his life she was worried about how she would once again continue on making a life for herself without the one she loved.  She thought back again and compared the two.  Now was different from then. 

She had loved Tim with every molecule of her body.  From the first time she saw him, something fantastical and strange happened and she felt complete.  Those feelings of searching for something, needing something else that she couldn't make sense of always playing like a recording on repeat had left her.  They just weren't there anymore.  That is why on that day when he was drunk and took the car keys she thought her life had ended, too.  She thought she would never recover from the loss and the guilt but mostly from the pain.  The pain was what was overwhelming.  That part of herself that she finally found and reveled in as it snapped easily into place into her core had been ripped from her.  Before meeting him she knew she was missing something but it was undefinable.  After that awful night she knew exactly what it was that she was missing and that she would never have it back.  The incompleteness drilled deeply through her heart and kept going until it made a cavern in her soul.  That was why she could hardly get out of bed.  That was why she didn't care if she ate.  Her cat, Lovey, was the only companionship she could tolerate.  Her therapist was the one that pulled her up and helped her to find herself again.

Rose heard Jeff's footsteps as he reached the screen door.  He walked as if he were a much larger man.  "Hey, Sweetheart.  You OK," he asked as he looked at her through the mesh.

Rose swiveled in the chair and got up.  "Yep.  Hungry?"

At Home

I ended up bringing the car into the dealership this morning as it was hiccuping. $700 later it is still there being worked on. I can't really complain because they are 2006 original parts that are being replaced and the car has been as solid as a tank. The critters are happy to have their Mom home and we all took a nap together. I also dusted with Poppy watching incite-fully and all-knowing. He was very Zen about it until he took the opportunity to grab the duster and run.

Happy Birthday To Me

Just putting one foot in front of the other is laborious.
Just breathing is hard.
How does one push forward when the wheel on your wheelbarrow is cripplingly bent?
No amount of glue, duct tape, or mending can close up the gash.
The cherished memories are rammed by the hurtful ones causing explosions of flames creating burnt-edged holes in my heart, mind, and soul.
My North Star has gone missing.
My blanket guarding me against the cold was lifted by the storm.
Happy Birthday to me.

Poppy and the drive thru

Tonight Poppy experienced his first not-so-fast food drive thru.  This is a neighborhood restaurant and not a McDonald's/Burger King type of place but they still have the huge menu and speaker.  

I have to digress here so that you have a more complete picture of the situation.  Poppy and I have a very efficient system for when I am the driver and he is the passenger.  I place him in the passenger seat and then I get in the driver's seat.  We have done this enough that Poppy has learned what "Move over" means.  Time is of the essence with Poppy so he doesn't like to waste it and before I have driven 10 feet he has made his way across the car and has at least his head in my lap.  In just a quick minute he will have his body in my lap and then he scoots his way up my chest and uses my cleavage as a shelf upon which he sits comfortably.  If I am not paying attention, I don't realize what he is doing until his little body is blocking my view of the steering wheel.  That sounds dangerous, you say?  Well of course it is dangerous!  He sticks himself to me as if he is made of Velcro and it takes much coordination on my part to unstick him, place him back in the passenger seat, and keep my eyes on the road.  To answer your next question, I know they make doggie harnesses that keep both driver and dog passenger safe.  One of these days I'll get one.  That is after I have balanced my checkbook and dust.  

I roll down my window and place my order.  Poppy tries to look out my window to see who is there.  Who am I talking to?  Since he is a little Chihuahua, that puzzle will remain unsolved.

We turn the corner to drive around to the side of the building and see that another car is ahead of us and waiting for their meal.  I push Poppy back into the passenger seat, get my purse, pull out my wallet, and feel pretty relaxed as I count out the exact change and bills.  Poppy is quite interested in looking out my window and tries again to crawl up onto my chest.  The car is in Park and my left hand is holding the change, my right is holding the bills.  I let him sit there until we are able to move up to the window.  I gently shove him off of me and once we are in position in front of the window he gently shoves himself back against me.

The restaurant worker slides open the window and just as she repeats the amount I owe Poppy hits the jackpot.  A person.  A person that is very close to the car!  Who said she could be there?  With is teeny Chihuahua bark he lets her know he is the mighty and powerful!  Luckily the girl finds this as funny as I do as I hand her the money.  I place Poppy back in the passenger seat.  As I said, this restaurant isn't trying to be fast so we patiently sit in the car.  Poppy is wondering what the heck is all of this and why are we here and will the lady return?  Soon enough my dinner is passed to me and the car fills up with the smell of food.  Poppy's face quickly turns from curiosity to recognition as the food bag passes over him and is placed onto the floor of the passenger side.  Ohhhhhhh.  So this is why we are here.  How magical!  When can we eat?

 

 

Rose and Jeff continued

Rose took a seat in one of the wicker chairs on the porch as she watched Bill make a mad dash to the nearest bush and lift his leg.  It was that lovely time of early evening when the creatures that are active during the day start getting quiet preparing for the night ahead and the nocturnal ones haven't yet woken up with a yawn and a stretch.  When it was quiet like this and Rose was alone she always ran an internal diagnostic of her feelings and life status.  It was a habit she felt didn't need changing.

Hearts

Hearts are like M and M's. When the hard covering is broken the soft inside becomes vulnerable so be careful that you aren't walking around with a hammer but instead have a soft touch.

Rose and Jeff Continued

Rose turned her head to look at the bedside clock. It was 6:30. The dog had to be fed and let out. Dinner had to be made, too, but she didn't want to be out from under Jeff's arm. If felt heavy, strong, and good. She looked back up at the ceiling and as she indulged her memories she closed her eyes.

She was back at the kitchen table finishing off the toast with jam. Her mouth watered and she had to swallow. She opened her eyes again to survey the room and make sure of her surroundings. She should really get up and take care of the dog. Guilt got the best of her and she slipped out of Jeff's arms.

Bill sat up at the sound of Rose getting out of bed and stared at the doorknob willing it to turn and the door to open. Tada! “C'mon, Bill. Let's go out,” said Rose as she got down and gave Bill a hug around his soft furry neck. They walked down the hall together through the kitchen and out the door.

Test Results, etc.

My latest cancer test results were not what I expected or wanted.  The numbers were higher than the last time I was tested a little over a year ago.  It took me weeks to absorb this bad news.  It wasn't the doctor that called me but his nurse and she had no idea why I wasn't dancing in the streets over the results after all, they were less than 1.  Nothing gets done when the results are under a 1. 

She didn't know I've been through this yearly number increase before and ended up needing a second more extreme surgery.  On top of that I have some sort of knobby growths one on the top of my left foot and the other on my forehead near my hairline.  I've had three courses of radioactive iodine treatment so secondary cancer is in the back of my mind.  I see my general practitioner today to talk to her about that and also getting refills on prescriptions.

My personal life is full of crazy shit including Jim's bat shit-ass crazy ex-wife.  My mom is slowly losing her mind and with that even more of her histrionic personality presents itself as the "I shouldn't say that" filter erodes.  I am in the throes of foreclosure because of my bat shit-ass crazy ex-husband.

"Drugs are bad, mmkay?"

So, the good things are that Jim and I are seeing an excellent nurse/social worker.  She is definitely heaven sent with that combination!  I have the best boss ever!  I have the best dog ever!  Let's just end this on a high note, mmkay?

Negatives

Unheard

Unloved

Abused

Misused

Lied to

Misplaced

Disgraced

Rose & Jeff

Rose was standing at the kitchen sink washing the dishes that had been left over from breakfast and lunch.  Her hands were warm from the sudsy water.  She was wearing a cotton dress that felt soft as the air from the open side door blew in gently making the fabric kiss her legs.  She looked out the kitchen window and smiled as her gaze took in, once again, the open fields that were her backyard. She would never tire of the scene.  It is what she always wanted.  As she watched the tall grass sway in the breeze, peace filled her heart and quieted her mind. 

 

She was lost in thought when she heard his boots on the porch and then the squeak of the screen door as he opened it.  The smell of cut hay walked in with him and with five quick steps Jeffery was next to her.  His right arm wrapped around her waist as with his left he turned the sink faucet off.  Kissing her on the cheek and then the back of her neck her body relaxed into his.  He had worked outside all day and sunshine clung to his plaid shirt.

 

“Hey, Girlie,” he said with both arms now wrapped around her waist. They were in their early 40s but she felt like a teenager whenever he was close.

 

“Hey, big man. How's your day going,” Rose asked as she turned around to face him.  He kept her tight in his arms.  She unbuttoned his shirt so that she could run her fingers through his chest hair.  It was soft and curly and she loved it.  She rubbed her face where her fingers had been and inhaled deeply.  Jeff always smelled good to her whether just coming in from a hard day’s work outside or fresh from the shower.   She felt Jeff’s kiss on the top of her head and then his chin as he rested it there.  She knew he was looking out the kitchen window and probably thinking about next week.  His surgery loomed large even though they both tried to not let it ruin their time together now.  With that thought she went from light to heavy.

 

Jeff took her by the arms and pushed her away from him just enough to be able to see her face.  She automatically tilted her head up. As she looked into his eyes her smile started off as brave and then crumpled.  Rose’s eyes filled with tears even though she wanted so badly not to give in to the desperation she hated to admit she felt. She couldn't imagine life without him. After all that she survived in the past she couldn't lose Jeff. All of those times when she forced herself to keep going when all she wanted to do was lie down and die - she didn't know if she would be able to keep going this time. Jeff tucked her protectively under his arm and they walked down the hall to the bedroom. Their dog, a big black German Shepard/Black Lab mix named Bill, had watched the whole thing from under the kitchen table. He got up and padded behind them nails clicking on the tile floor. The hallway afforded carpet and it was quiet again. Outside of the bedroom door he laid down and rested his big head between his front paws.

Break

I am at my best with you, at my worst with you.
Satisfying happiness, intense pain.

The highs and lows are wearing me out, breaking my heart, bleeding me to death.

Feeling ugly, not wanted, not needed, not heard.

Bodies in the same airspace circling the same skies but not meeting.

The petals are falling off the flower that used to be so vibrant and alive.

The edges are drying up and hardening.

As each cut clots the scar remains, imperfect healing felt with each movement.

The lying did me in. Felt so stupid. Still do.

How do I find my place again? Suspicions were right.

Wish I could bathe in healing waters. Go back. Can't.

Anger is the blanket covering the sheets of hurt.

My fingertips are white holding on. For how long?

Milk Bottle Happiness

My heart is as full as a milk bottle sitting in the sink

Standing upright under an open faucet

The water running up and over the lip

And falling over the sides

Cleaning the bottle from the inside out.

I always thought this kind of happiness

Was only for those I saw on the other side of my sadness

But never for me.

Now I know. It is for me, too.

Bowling

I went bowling this past Sunday with some very special people. It had been a very long time (Ummm.....probably close to 30 years???) since I last laced up a pair of rental shoes. They were iridescent green and orange. Pretty, in fact, and so unlike the ones I remember. They also fit reasonably well. Again, very much unlike the ones I remember. As it turns out, that isn't the only thing that has changed about bowling.

I remember red vinyl covered tubular bumpers that were placed in the gutters to help novice bowlers feel better about their yet unrealised mastery of the game. Now there is a fence-like structure that pops up from the floor on each side of the alley. An ill aimed ball will bounce from side to side as it hits the metal fence and careen wildly down the alley, depending upon the force of the throw, and I do mean throw, of the bowling ball. These fences not only keep the ball out of the gutter but also act as a pinball machine directing it towards the pins. Our vinyl tubes didn't do that.

My fraternal grandmother, Nana Anna, loved bowling so much she belonged to a league. She took me out one afternoon, just her and me, to teach me how to bowl. Allow me to rephrase. She tried to teach me how to bowl. As you take three steps forward you swing the ball back and then forward while keeping your eyes on the arrows on the floor your wrist straight bending at your knees at the last step with perfect timing as you let go of the ball as your back leg shoots out helping with balance and aim.

Nana Anna was very patient with me up until the point where she could see that there weren't any words of advice that could help me to not twist my wrist at the last second sending the ball on a crooked journey. I think that is the only time my much beloved grandmother gave up on my success. I think she figured it wasn't worth the worry and concentration on my part so why keep pressing?
I thought a lot about Nana while I was bowling. My heart still misses her. On the other hand my heart was also made happy by the fun I had with Jim, Jaime, Sierra, and Jax.

Lastly, my left butt cheek is in pain! I thought I would be feeling it in my right arm not my butt! I am not looking forward to what it will be like in the morning. I'll take it, though, as I wouldn't want to give up the fun I had today.

Rose and Jeff prologue

She could either stay curled up in a ball on her bed or start her day. One would lead to catharsis and the other to more wallowing in the pain she already felt. She looked out the window and saw the sun and blue sky. The cat, which was perched on the end of her bed, got up, stretched, meowed, and jumped down. She watched the feline haughtily walk out the bedroom door. If the cat could do it, so could she.

Today was going to be the start of the end. She unfurled herself and laid her head back on the pillows. As she looked up at the ceiling, she claimed this day the end of guilt, the end of remorse, and the end of anger. Her eyes quickly filled with tears that overflowed onto her cheeks, ran down the sides of her face, and tickled her ears as their descent slowed and pooled. She made no sounds. She stopped sobbing so long ago. Somehow someway she was going to make this pain stop. She was going to find a way.

She wiped her face with her hands and sat up. She had lost weight because she just hadn't had the energy to eat let alone cook anything nourishing. She felt weak and her long brown hair was a tangled mess. Her t-shirt hung off of her shoulders. She lifted her arm, smelled her armpit and said out-loud to herself, “Gross.”

The cat ran back into the bedroom and flew onto the bed coming to a quick stop in front of her. She couldn't help but laugh. She reached over and petted her. She loved the sound of her cat's purr. It was like a little motor boat and the rumble of it represented happiness.

As she swung her legs over the side of the bed the picture of him on the dresser seemed to jump out at her. With a sharp intake of breath she refused to again be consumed by her emotions. She forced her eyes from the photograph over to the mirror and this time gasped with disgust. “Oh my God,” she said as she turned to the cat. “Lovey.....how can you even look at me?” Lovey answered by rubbing against Marcia's arm.

She walked to the bathroom and peeled off her t-shirt and underwear balling them up as she threw them into the already overflowing hamper. One arm of her t-shirt peeked out from under the lid as if it wasn't ready to say that final goodbye. The tiled floor felt cool under her feet. It felt solid and sure. Lovey jumped onto the lid of the toilet and watched as Marcia turned on the shower and tested the water temperature. She reached over and tickled Lovey's head prior to entering the stall.

The spray of water hit the top of her head as she bowed under its stream leaning with both hands on the shower wall. A flash of memory assaulted her. “You bitch!” He was slurring his words as spittle sprayed from his lips. Shit. Breath. Breath through it. Let it happen and then let it pass. And so she did.

She walked back into the bedroom naked and wet from the shower. She no longer felt dirty but she knew the memories would still cause her to feel unclean. For how long was anyone's guess. What did the therapist say? Everyone grieves at his or her own pace. What a crock of shit. Well, maybe it wasn't but she figured she was partly still in the denial stage slowly crawling into the anger stage. She would rather slide directly into the acceptance stage as if she were a baseball player sliding into home base. This was hard work talking oneself off of the ledge.

As she picked up her dirty clothes from the floor and tore the 3-week old sheets off of her bed, Lovey sat in the chair by the window watching Marcia's progress. She was an easy taskmistress and only cracked the whip when hungry.

Marcia flung everything into the laundry hamper. This time the lid stayed open like a huge yawn. Laundry will be the next thing she does. Right after getting dressed. And eating. And then blow drying her hair. Whatever.

She walked to her dresser to grab a pair of underwear out of the top drawer and his picture assaulted her again. “Dammit!” She assaulted his picture back by picking it up and deep sixing it into the trash can with such force that the wooden frame flew apart and the glass cracked. “Fuck you!” Yep. She definitely was moving into the anger phase.

She was breathing hard from the exertion when the next memory lit up her brain like a grenade's blast. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” kept repeating over and over in her head as she wiped the spittle off of her face. His gait was unsteady as he weaved his way towards the back door grabbing the car keys nearly ripping the hook out of the wall. She ran up to him and demanded them back. He was in no shape to drive. All at once he was upon her choking her with his free hand. “I am not drunk!”

Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat dripped from her forehead into her eyes. She realized she was sitting on the floor with no clear memory of how she got there. Lovey walked over and meowed as she rubbed against Marcia's hip. Jeez, she still hadn't gotten dressed. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is what the therapist had called it. Panic attacks. She was learning all kinds of psychological lingo now. This is not the education she wanted but she definitely had paid for it.

At the breakfast table she drank her first cup of coffee for the day. As the coffee hit her empty stomach she almost threw-up. Toast would work. She ended up eating 4 pieces loaded with strawberry jam and butter. Mmmmmmm....sugary sweetness.

A Poem

You

You are the soft breeze that moves gently through the air
In the cool of the evening after the sun has set
Creating music as you wind around the hanging chimes.

 

You are the pillow that holds my head at night

Surrounding me with comfort

Caressing me with support.

 

You are the brook winding through the willows

Gurgling as you move forward

Hypnotizing me with your actions so that I have no choice but to follow.

 

You are the lightening in a storm

Temporarily blinding me with your brightness

Causing me to drop to my knees because of your power.

 

You are a man so I am a woman.

Your hands hold my heart.

Let go. I said let go!

Learning to let go is proving to be a lesson I keep circling back to and each time I do so I want to kick my own ass for forgetting that I need to do it!  Life is so much simpler when one lets go.  I don't need to control everything.  Life does not fall apart if I don't orchestrate it.  

There is a horseback riding term called "giving the horse his/her head".  When a rider does this, the rider loosens the reigns so that the horse, instead of being directed by the rider, directs itself.  In sticky situations a rider will allow the horse to guide them through.  The rider recognizes when this is necessary and at the appropriate time takes the reigns back.  I need to learn to recognize under what circumstances it is right to loosen or tighten my grip.

Letting go doesn't mean not taking responsibility.  It doesn't mean I don't have to do anything or make any decisions.  It does mean that I don't always have to be the band leader coordinating the instruments so that they are playing the same tune that is echoing inside my head.  I don't always have to be right.  Letting go isn't hard when I remind myself that when I do it I am less burdened, less stressed, more at peace, and the sound of gears grinding ceases. 

Letting go means acknowledging that the other person is right.....and I am not.  Oh, how that bruises my ego but on the other hand why would I think I should always be right?  Who is always right?  That's another burden from which I need to be released.  Why did I create all of these obnoxiously impossible rules for me to follow?  I don't need them anymore.

I've been carrying around a whole bunch of unnecessary tools in my tool belt and with each step they were either banging into one of my thighs, pressing into my waist, or tripping me up.  I'm working towards detaching each troublesome tool and tossing it behind me as I go so that as I move forward it is forever in my past.

It's Official - I'm Divorced! And so is the cat.

June 21st, ladies and gentlemen.  That's the date of my divorce.  I am happy to be free.  Happy that that time of my life is finally over.  Sad that it came to that.  Drinking ruined the man and the marriage.  It rots a person from the inside out and then pushes out from the drinker's pores to drip and fall all over those within close proximity poisoning on contact.  It eats through the skin as effectively as acid burning and eroding the tender flesh leaving exposed that which should be protected.

Each day the reality of it becomes more real to me and I have to smile and do a happy dance...on the inside.  I don't want to scare people by doing my own improvisational interpretation of joy in public.

As I'm sitting here at the dining room table writing I look up and see my other cat, Senator, lounging on the back of the living room couch.  I got him back from the ex about 2 weeks ago.  Having Senator back is just another thing to add to my list of happy.  I have a wonderful friend/classmate that did me the biggest favor by negotiating the details with the ex while she was up in Maryland for a wedding.  She got the cat, bought him the proper carrier in which to fly him, took care of him, made him feel safe through the process, and then at 12:30 in the morning coordinated with me to hand him off.  She and her mom gave me something that cannot be given a monetary value.

Senator came back to me overweight, shedding, his coat shabby and sprinkled with dandruff, and without the personality that prompted me to name him Senator.  His beauty was marred.  I am glad to report that his coat is getting back its sheen and elegance.  He has already lost 1.5 pounds and not because I have limited his food intake - he has done that himself.  Eating is no longer a substitute for what was missing.  The most glorious part is that his personality has resurfaced and he is back to walking around like a pompous fool.  He also came back to me with a very bad habit of yowling incessantly in the middle of the night.  That has stopped, too. No need for it.

So, Senator and I are both now free from what haunted us.  He and I are content now.  Come to think of it, I'm not yowling in the middle of the night anymore, either.

Itchy Hives

I've got a 5-page paper I need to write, create an eye-catching poster board, and then ready myself for a mini presentation in front of the class for school.  I am over a week behind at work.  I am crossing my fingers and toes and anything else that will comfortably cross that my June 18th divorce hearing will not only stay as scheduled but go off without a hitch.  I am gritting my teeth hoping that the husband I am crossing everything for so that the divorce on June 18th happens will mow the lawn and allow potential buyers into the house so that it can be viewed and sold.  A couple of weeks ago I had to take $10K out of my IRA to save it from foreclosure because my hopefully ex as of June 18th has decided that even though he is the only one living in the house he shouldn't have to help pay the mortgage.  I am living with my mother who never stops creating sound.  She is either humming, singing, or talking and not necessarily to anyone in particular or for any reason.  You know those dog owners that silence their dogs from barking?  Yes, I do appreciate all she has done for me so don't get your feathers all flustered.  My mother has also given me multiple opportunities to learn how to politely yet firmly set and reset boundaries that keep getting crossed.  At first I wasn't so polite.  Hopefully I am better at ti now.  I have decided I have to figure out my finances to see if I can safely move out.  As a matter of fact as I am writing this she is talking to me.  A week ago my son-in-law was shot and murdered by a woman off of her meds.  Now my daughter, at 29, is a widow with a 2.5 year old.

I am getting over a yeast infection (TMI?) and have been battling hives ever since I got the news about my son-in-law.  My body is talking to me.  Well, I think it is yelling at me.  I've got too much stress.  I do walk as often as possible.  At least 3 times a week.  I have a fantastic boyfriend that does what he can to help me take it down a notch whether it is affection or just talking me off the ledge.  At the age of 51 I never thought I would be using the word "boyfriend" to describe a part of my life. 

Stress sneaks up on me.  This time it was in the middle of the night and that is why I woke up with hives.  My brain stays awake while my body sleeps.  Hold on.  I have to take a scratch break.

Ok, I'm back.  I normally try to wrap these up somehow.  Draw a conclusion.  Say something humorous.  I don't have any answers and that is why I'm writing.  So.......I'll see you soon.

P.S.  My mother is still talking.

Sandbar

Yesterday in the later part of the afternoon Jim and I went to the beach. It was low tide and we walked out into the Gulf to the first sandbar. It had taken us a trip first down the shoreline and then back up until we found a section of water that was calm enough for us to traverse without being pulled or pushed by the chaotic turbulence and strong undertow.

There were other sandbars further out but I had to stop at the first one. It was glorious. I knelt down into the sandy bottom that I could see through the water. I looked upward and saw the sun lowering in the sky reflecting in the waves as they continued to smash against each other tumultuously. I was in awe.

A forest holds its own beauty. I grew up loving, playing in, and seeking and finding solace in the woods. Their scent, the sound of the forest floor as one walks, the enchanting way the sun dapples it as it peeks around the branches high up. The trees talk. My heart finds peace in the forest.

But the wilds of the Gulf hold a different kind of allure. It is power without mercy or humility that produces tranquility within my soul. What words does language hold that can come close to describing such a deep down inner core emotional reaction? I could have sat there forever and just watched as Jim's arms kept me anchored. Even as we got up to go back to shore, I had to turn around, stop, and look just one more time.

Changing

I've been doing quite a bit of work on myself lately.  That's one reason I have been so quiet for so long.  I have had to take more than a few steps back and honestly come to grips with who I am, who I want to be in the future, and what I believe in. 

Who I am.  I always thought of myself as this dominant kind of woman that knew what she wanted and actively pursued her interests.  Well, the joke was on me!  While my intelligence, creativity, and mindfulness are cornerstones of my personality, I have come to realize that I have lied to myself for a very long time about what my core is.  I have been forcing myself, even as a young child, to try to fit into the mold that those around me wanted for me, needed me to be for themselves, instead of listening to myself and allowing me to just be, well, me.  As I make the adjustments I am like one tweaking the old fashioned radio dial where one had to carefully and slowly twist the dial left and right until the incoming signal was as clear as possible.  Sometimes I overcompensate and sometimes I under compensate but for all of the travail I am more at peace than I ever can remember feeling.  I no longer experience the undercurrent of anxiety of round hole square peg.

Who I want to be in the future.  I think I now have a pretty good idea of who I really am.  It's tough being honest with oneself.  It's also tough turning off those old autopilots and scripts.  Reacting instead of stopping, thinking, and assessing is much easier but it will only keep one on the merry-go-round.  Up and down and up and down.  I wanted off.  I needed off.  It's scary out here but the scenery is much more interesting.

What I believe in.  I always believed in God.  I was born a Jew, freshman year in college I learned about Jesus and believed in Him, and am now reading up on Buddhism.  I am leaning more towards a Higher Power and/or Creator of the Universe than what some call God, some call Jesus, others call Allah......I could go on and on with the names humanity has given to this Power.  I believe it exists, I'm just not sure what and/or who it is exactly.  I'm not all that worried about labeling it.  I'm just learning.  Once again, I am at peace.

So, I guess I'll be writing more about this journey as I walk it.  It can be painful at times but it has also brought me much joy and freedom.

Playing Cards

She drew a card from the deck and turned over the queen of hearts. It was supposed to be a game but in the end the joke was on her. She looked into the mirror and saw herself for the first time. He held it in his hands.

He drew a card from the deck and turned over the king of hearts. It was supposed to be a game but in the end the joke was on him. He looked into the mirror and saw himself more clearly than before. She held it in her hands.

They peeked from around the mirrors and their eyes met. They knew each other from a long time ago and ago and have met again. This time, as they held their mirrors, they saw the truth and it was good. They were home. They were safe.

The mirrors were set aside as they now reflected each other in their eyes. Blood mixed with blood. Soul mixed with soul. Blessings intertwined.

They walked into each other and became one.

As You Open the Door

As you open the door to me
I tentatively walk over the threshold
Into your house
Hoping that I will not have regrets

I have tasted your flesh
And seen a piece of your heart
Your body has mixed with mine
I hope I will not have regrets

For surely this is the answer
This is the man
That was waiting for me
That was calling for me
From when I was far away

Now that I am close
Now that I have walked through his door
I want to feel safe; I need to feel safe
Hoping that I will not have regrets

I have shared so much of my soul
I have given so much of my body
My bruised heart is beating anew
I hope I will not have regrets

For surely this is the answer
This is the man
That was waiting for me
That was calling for me
From when I was far away

A Broken Heart

You've pulled the knife out only to find a deep gash that needs time to mend.

A broken heart indiscriminately bleeds all over the place.  The blood pools beneath when lying down.  It hits passersby.  It sprays on the walls and drips onto the floor.  It coats the inside of the car's windshield.  It is a mess. 

You lose your footing slipping along on the red fluid while unsuccessfully trying to bypass the puddles you yourself have formed.  You take a shower trying to get clean but the watered down blood circles at your feet as it goes down the drain. 

With each pump of the heart more blood leaks out until it eventually clots, scabs over, and then leaves a scar.  The question then is this - would you take the chance again?

Dementia

One of the courses I am taking is psychology for the health care worker. I am currently reading the chapter that deals with the elderly and just finished reading a case study concerning a husband and wife where the wife has dementia. The husband takes care of the wife on his own but in the end puts her in a nursing home.

This sparked a memory for me from when I was a bookkeeper at a nursing home. There was a lovely, kind older gentleman who visited his equally lovely wife every day. When I say every day, I mean every day. The two of them would sit on one of the benches in a common area holding hands while he spoke to those that passed by. He would turn to his wife and explain who the people were and what they were doing. Even though she had no idea who he was or probably where she was she didn't seem to mind the contact and in response to his explanations she would look at you, nod, and smile.

That was all he needed. Holding her hand, sitting next to her, being able to talk to her was enough. He relished each day that he still had with her and even though he knew that one day, possibly in the near future, her mind would further deteriorate, this is what he had now and he would be happy with it.

The love this man demonstrated towards his wife was special. I couldn't help but be drawn to it. It was simple and complete. It didn't demand; it gave. It wasn't forceful but instead kind and patient. It was apropos to the moment not trying to mold or shape. It was a life lesson that I've never forgotten.

Back to School

After searching job websites for a couple of months I concluded that my skills were more suited to Baltimore than to Sarasota and that no matter how long I looked the outcome would be the same. What this job search did net me was knowing what employers are looking for here. I did some research and have decided to go back to school and learn medical insurance billing and coding. This is a one year program and when I was signing the oodles of enrollment paperwork I had to tamp down the panic of commitment. I aced the assessment tests and had orientation this afternoon. 

I also am required to wear color coded scrubs....blue for medical.  I tried them on today as they need to be special ordered to have the school's emblem embroidered on them.  They are mostly made of polyester which increases the sweat factor.  Since this is the only drawback I shouldn't complain.

Once I graduate, I have to work one full year in the field before I am allowed to test for certification.

Now that I am past the panic stage, I am settling down to quiet excitement. This is where I am right now and this is what I have to do.  As I continue to turn the pages in my book, I am happy.  I am happy.

Blue Valentine

My mom and I just finished watching the movie "Blue Valentine".  If you are depressed, I don't recommend it because you will only feel worse after watching it.  Although I'm sure the point of the movie was not to depress but to enlighten, it was still depressing.  So that I don't have to write "spoiler alert" it basically is about how two people got together, married, and then split. (I am such a sucker for Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams.)

I'm betting I feel so strongly about this because some of the script hit so close to home the writer may as well have resided there with me, took notes, and then transcribed them verbatim. 

Yesterday morning I was reading an obituary about an 80-something year old man that had recently died.  I normally don't read the obits let alone the newspaper but my mom left it lying on the kitchen table.  I picked it up to read while I ate my meal.  This man's obit stood out because it took up a whole 1.5 columns!  Whoever wrote it took the time and care to make it detailed so I figured the least I could do was honor the effort.

This man had been married to his High School sweetheart for 66 years.  She passed away on March 11th of this year.  About 4.5 months later he joined her.  I don't recall the obit saying he had been sick.

I wish I could interview them separately and together.  So many questions for a couple that was a success.  Why is it that some people are able to be married for 66 years and others can't make it past 6 months? Mutual respect?  Communication? 

Since the divorce rate hovers around 50% here in the US, maybe I shouldn't be asking any of you to answer these questions.  I should ask the citizens of Kazakhstan.  Their divorce rate is 39%.

It's either just the rain or I am actually really pissed off.

I've been living in Florida for one week now.  I have crossed off quite a few of the entries on my list of things that must be accomplished including changing over the tags on my car and transferring my MD driver's license to a FL one.  Last night, despite the three nightmares in a row, I slept in later than 4:30 in the morning.  I'm going to have to learn how to use the DVR because I missed Mr. Ed.

As I'm writing this, I see that it is pouring outside.....again.  No draught here!  Yesterday when I was driving Jesse to the airport to catch his flight back to Baltimore, I nervously drove through a deluge.  I'm sure the intermittent storms are normal for this time of year, but they are bumming me out.  Add to that being pissed off that at 50 I am starting my life over, well, just ask my mother if her tongue isn't shredded yet from biting it.  Yes, I am pissed off and the weather isn't helping.

Those that see the glass as half full tell me that I should look at this as an opportunity for new beginnings that I otherwise wouldn't have.  While I understand this on an intellectual level, my emotions are wearing boxing gloves and mouth guard while dancing around the ring looking for a fight. 

The good news?  Trixie the cat is showing signs of feeling more comfortable around the house when it isn't just me walking around.  Shadow the dog can't wait for Trixie to want to play with him.