she's just saying...

Little tiny pill

OK, this is going to sound pathetic, but really it's not.

I did go out with a friend for a birthday drink and food at my favorite local wine bar. Henry went with us and behaved beautifully, taking care of us and entertaining himself (and many others, as usual). I was kind of reluctant to go as I felt a headache coming on at work, but took an Imitrex on the way there and soldiered through.

By the time we got home, it was clearly a migraine lurking behind the pill that mildly suppressed it. I took another one and lay down "for a little bit" until the pill did its work. Henry again was lovely, making me tea and bringing me his blankie (yes, he still has one - she's now a member of the family).

Three hours later, I woke up to find him watching cartoons and eating cereal at 11 pm. This morning promises to be fun...

I don't know how many of you experience migraines. Imitrex works, slower than you'd like, and pretty much always knocks you out. The key is to take it AS SOON AS YOU FEEL THE MIGRAINE, not like me, who pretty much ignores the signals until it demands full attention and acquiescence. You really need to get out of denial and act immediately if you don't want to end up in the emergency room, painfully reciting all your medications, doctors, insurance info and medical history over and over while an ice pick is being hammered into your temple, waiting around while a meth addict trashes the place, eventually getting a shot that makes you throw up and knocks out the headache while a nurse's assistant feeds your child doughnuts and Pepsi at three in the morning. Not that that's ever happened or anything.

Just saying.

On the brink of the next number

Hmm. I'm writing this on the eve of my fif-somethingthorother birthday, and I can't say I'm feeling that happy about things. It isn't about the aging part, though certainly that isn't tons of fun. I'm finding the wisdom and self-acceptance is worth the wrinkles and bumps. You just have to laugh at it all, really. The cosmic joke.

But anyway, as I've mentioned, I tend to use these (arbitrary) milestones as markers in my life to stop and look back, assess and reflect. This one finds me in a not-so-great mindset tonight.

I'm employed at a job I excel at and love, but my salary has plunged to a 20-year low and I'm not sure I can swing it.
I'm (barely) out of a hurtful dead-end relationship, but I miss his spirit and passion and love terribly.
I'm surrounded by happy busy friends, yet feel more isolated and alone than ever.
My dog is lame and in pain and can't understand why I won't play frisbee.
My pond leaks, my brakes squeal and my son still wets the bed.

(Should I go on?)

But yet. 

Every day I'm thankful for the experiences and luck I've had. Every day I'm grateful for my son, my home, my friends, my family. I take responsibility for the choices I've made and where they've led me.

Non, je ne regrette rien. Me and Edith Piaf.

Wed. cop-out

How's this for a lazy post? Just re-read this one - it says it all for me today.

Almost Blue

Do you ever get in one of those moods?  Sad, nostalgic, moody, adrift?  Anomie, malaise; I could go on...

This post title refers to a great version of a song by Elvis Costello (no, not the album Almost Blue), but nobody says it better (or more) than Van Morrison:

In the afternoon, baby in my room
When the lights are dim way beyond the hill
In the afternoon, baby in my room
When I'm really down get me off the ground
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

In the morning time when I go outside
In the morning time it's like that all the while
In the afternoon when I'm in my room
Every single day, it won't go away
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

And it's in my heart, when we're apart
And it stops and starts, and it's in my heart
Every single day it's always in my way
When I'm making hay, all I've got to say
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

Well it's in my blood and it's in my veins
Here it comes again, when I'm in the rain
In the wind and rain, well the sun don't shine
Well it's always mine, all of the time
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

And it's in my life and it's all the time
It doesn't go away when the church bells chime
In the evening time when I drink my wine
In the evening time when it's on my mind
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

It's only melancholia
Oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia
Melancholia, melancholia
They call it, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia
Call it melancholia, melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

OK, we get it, Van! You're seriously bumming!

I'm feeling the same way today.

The Definition of Insanity

Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results - Albert Einstein

I can honestly say that I've only made one mistake in the last four years. However, I just keep making it over and over.

Maybe this time, it will be different.

Top 10: manly qualities edition

I recently read an article about how you can manifest your ideal man by identifying and writing down the 100 desired traits you're looking for. (This was not in a trashy magazine. Really.) 

Sounds like casting a spell with eye of newt and hair of dog, but less messy. So, here are:

Top 10 qualities I look for in a partner.

(If I list only 10, does that mean I'll get only 1/10th of a man?)

1. Intelligence. This is the deal-breaker. I've met a lot of nice friendly guys, but they just don't have it upstairs. I'm not talking about academic intelligence, but the ability to understand, challenge, and stimulate.
2. Sense of humor, of course. I remember saying: "Everything he says makes me laugh, even when it's stupid." My friend Hans replied that's what every guy hopes to hear. Maybe I'm just simple-minded.
3. Compassion. Kindness, caring, warmth, tolerance; however you put it, it's another deal-breaker, really. I could never date a man who's rude to a waiter, as a minor but telling example.
4. Chemistry. Since my mom occasionally reads my blog, I'll leave it at that. Crucial, but is occasionally misleading. I'm just saying.
5. The ability to dredge up a positive attitude, even in the face of discouraging situations.
6. Energy. Vim, vigor, drive, what have you. Not a slug.
7.  Self confidence. Not the in-your-face kind, but the ability to trust and like oneself.
8. Able to give and receive support -- it's the basis of a partnership.
9.Open to commitment. To me. (Well, that rules out the last eight guys I've been involved with. Hmmm, could that possibly be a pattern of some kind?)
10. Passion. Of all kinds, for all kinds of things.

Reading this over, I realize this quite accurately describes Neighbor X. With the notable exception of #9, of course. Am I asking too much?

A lowercase buddhist

When asked my religious beliefs, I kind of think it sounds pretentious to say "I'm a Buddhist." So I babble a little about following Buddhist beliefs and that I was raised a Unitarian and attend the Central Oregon Unitarian Fellowship. (Yes, Universalist is in there too - it's just such a long name).

My spiritual practice these days consists of (inconsistent) sitting meditation and reading Buddhist writings. I try to live the Middle Way and follow the Eightfold Path of right thought, right speech, right action and so forth. I attend Buddhist services and retreats, been blessed in a Buddhist Refuge Ceremony by a real lama, and even have a Tibetan mantra tattooed on my ankle, for goodness sakes. So why don't I claim to be A Buddhist with a capital B?

Maybe because, with all that, I still don't feel I've earned the right. Clearly, it's not how you define yourself, it's how you live your life. As the Buddha said, the jewel is in the lotus, which is the meaning of the plaque above and my tattoo.

What do you say when people ask you?

That was quick.

My interest in dating, that is.

One evening spent making small talk with a stranger was all it took to remind me of how incredibly rare it is to find that special connection with someone. It wasn't that bad, really  -- it was similar to sitting next to a pleasant, but boring, person on the plane, chatting and not knowing how to end the conversation. I wish I had the balls moxy of Ellen Barkin in "Sea of Love:" "I don't feel it with you: I can tell like that" with a snap of the fingers, get up and leave and save us both from a boring hour or two.

Just think of the knitting I could have accomplished!

Oh well. Good to have done it, I suppose. Reminded me that it's not my thing.

Back to the Buddhist nun's existence.

The Big D

D is for Dating. Yikes.

I've jumped back into the pool, though into the shallow end (in more ways than one). I met someone for a drink last night, and am meeting another someone Saturday pm. I'm not looking for a relationship right now [well, maybe I am], just the opportunity to get out and mingle with people of the male persuasion. Oh, the horror!

It's not so bad. Gets me cleaned up and out of the house, and it's good to feel attractive again after that long slow rejection. It's definitely an investment of time, energy and makeup.

I'm guessing most of my readers are long past this silliness, and happy about it. Any encouraging words?

Thoughts on being single

It's not easy to be single in Bend, the ultimate family town. It's not so bad if you're in your twenties, as there are a lot of snowboarders/mountain bikers/climbers/beer bongers/computer geeks to hang out with. It's when you're in your 40's and 50's and with a younger child that things get really tough. Older single guys have already left a family behind in most cases, and just want to be footloose again, partying, traveling and "taking long walks on the beach." (It's only two hundred miles away...)

But lest I sound negative, there's a lot to be said for being a middle-aged single parent. (Whee - sounds like fun, doesn't it?) I cook for Henry and myself only, and if I don't feel like it, I don't. I'll eat cheese and crackers or nuke something and he'll be quite happy with mac and cheese from the box (plus broccoli, of course!). We do whatever we want on weekends, whether it's hanging out watching sports and cartoons or heading out for an adventure. Nobody's asking for my time and attention, other than cats and dogs and Henry, all of whom are easy to please. And I have the bathroom/closet/kitchen/TV/bed all to myself, to be as indulgent as I want. There's no negotiation, compromise, misunderstandings or power struggles. It's all about me, and Henry.

OK, on the down side, no cuddles of the adult kind, other parental type to take over when H has got me beat, someone to do the dishes while the other does the bedtime struggle, no one to fix the disposal or lift out the air conditioners. For the heavy lifting, I rely on neighbors; the rest I shoulder by myself. It can be a little isolating, but at least I know what I can count on.

Reading this, I realize it portrays a somewhat negative view of marriage as a state of struggle, disappointment and appeasement. Yeesh - no wonder I'm single. But finally, really, I'm getting to be okay with it, and even pretty comfortable. You know my mantra: You Can't Have Everything.

Therefore, it's important to ac-cen-tuate the positive, e-lim-inate the negative and pour yourself another glass of wine.

Feels so good...

...feeling good again. Two months seems to be the ticket. What once was a painful ache is now a pang of regret. Whadda ya know?  It really does take time. "Every day, in every way..."

These days, work, Henry, kittens, dead fish (yes, he seems to have succumbed), baseball, knitting, work events, flag football practice, homework and oh yes, work seem to be filling my plate. I'm very happy with the new job - it's just right. I'm energized by it and challenged, and feel I can contribute substantially while learning new things, all critical criteria for the easily-bored. It's good to learn once again that I actually do like working, after the slow painful wind-down of Edge and an aimless summer.

This is turning into a catch-up blog, what with all the self-referential links. So, to round things out, Oreo is going under the knife on Tuesday, then is moving in with some friends of ours, so we get to see him grow. Some regrets, but right now he's in the pouncing and biting phase, so it's a little easier. It's actually kind of scary to have a very fierce kitten, claws out, determined to jump on your face and bite you. Over and over. Everyone's a little nervous around him right now.

Back in the saddle, and dreams

First (official) day on the job! Mostly I've been cleaning out my inherited office and trying to find the bathroom. So far I'm loving it. I have yet to get outside and see the critters, but I'm making it a priority for this week. More to come on the cool stuff.

Do you have recurrent dreams?

I tend to have two dream themes that recur: one involves planes and trains. I get on the wrong ones, miss them, go the wrong way, get lost in train stations, etc. (It used to involve packing problems as well, but I guess I've gotten over my "baggage" issues.) These aren't necessarily bad dreams, they're just tedious. (The details of traveling these days are bad enough - who needs to dream about them?) I never make it to my destination or even remember what it is when I awake.

 

The other one centers on missing class at some prestigious private school and panicking because we're getting tested (a classic). It's always calculus or physics or something I haven't done any work for and can't fake. I'm late for class or I haven't gone all semester or I haven't done the reading and so forth.

Very anxiety-producing, a feeling that stays with me through the next day. Not surprisingly, I had one of those last night.

Someday maybe I'll dream that I arrive at my destination or that I'm prepared and pass the test. Til then, I'll keep getting on the wrong train and walking into the classroom unprepared.

Can I be done? and other questions

 How long does it take to get over a broken heart?  I've been trying to follow the recommendation from a great self-help book, which is not to have contact with your ex for 60 days. I've done pretty well with that, aside from some tipsy hugs during the concerts last weekend and a few text messages about baseball. It's good advice, but really hard to follow when you live three doors away. It doesn't seem to have helped, anyway.

Why does it still hurt as much as it has the last eight times we broke up? Shouldn't I be getting used to this? The heart's capacity for hope, denial and forgiveness is amazing - I keep testing the limits and not finding them. Self-preservation does kick in finally, thankfully. But the fact that it's the right thing to do doesn't make it any easier to take.

How do I get past this?  The most random things trigger a pang: a song, a trip to the farmer's market, an article I've read, turning down the wrong street, hearing a baseball score. But as Kathi says, there are things that help. Meditation, pets, friends, children, projects, compelling work; all contribute to getting through the day, and I'd even say that overall I'm happy. But the tears of a clown, etc.

Does love ever come without pain? Based on the empirical evidence I've gathered from the last thirty years, I'd have to say no. Maybe in the next thirty . . .

Six words to describe your life

The book Not Quite What I was Planning: Six Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure, by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser, is a cogent little compilation based on the story that Hemingway once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. His words were: For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

(I don't really understand this actually: was he referring to his own shoes? He had kids, so it couldn't be theirs, so what gives? Anyway, I digress [my memoir in just three words right there.])

So, this is a wildly popular meme and since I'm always up for talking about myself a challenge, here we go. How I'd sum up my life varies wildly depending on how I feel at any particular moment. Maybe that's one:

Can't describe it: it keeps changing.

A few more:

PA, VT, AK, MA, CA, OR.

Getting old but feel fourteen inside.

I'm on a roll:

So much love, yet still single.

I hope I'm reborn a kitten.

And from the Dalai Lama's thoughts on the meaning of life:

Be happy: help others be happy.

 

Alright, all my froggers (friend/bloggers). I won't call out your names in front of the whole class, but start writing. Either here or take the ball and go home to your own blog with it. It's kind of addicting.

[Read more submissions to the next book project here.]

The conservation of bustedness

My big bro Steve has always espoused the theory of the "conservation of bustedness." In essence, it means that if you successfully fix something, something else must break. I always thought it was one of his semi-serious paranoid delusions, but allow me to pour myself a BIG glass of wine and tell you about my day.

I won't talk about Mary-who-stays-with-me-weekends's 55-pound puppy who frolicked in my carefully landscaped pond, tried to pick up the kitten with her "soft" mouth, ripped up Flash's special frisbee and chased both my cats, all before noon. No, this is about the smoke alarms.

I have seven interconnected smoke alarms in my four-bedroom home. That means when one goes off, the others all chime in helpfully. Today one of them went off (false alarm) but of course we couldn't tell which. So Mary and I ran around with our fingers in our ears changing the old batteries, and thought that was the end of it. Of course, fixing them meant something else had to go bust (according to the theory), so when cleaning up the mud the ladder left behind, I realized my fancy-schmancy vacuum cleaner could barely suck through a straw. Then a smoke alarm went off again (with all new batteries!) so we went running around trying to pinpoint the offender again.

Meanwhile, Flash (just a tad neurotic) panicked over the alarms, bolted out of the house and down the street, the labrador puppy gleefully following. We had to drive around the neighborhood for some time til we located them, brought them home and tried to figure out the smoke alarms again. Of course we couldn't pull the car all the way into the garage because Henry's bike was in the way (did I mention I ran over his bike Friday and had to get it fixed for $99?). Henry came back from looking for Flash and pushed the garage door closer which began to bang rhythmically on the roof of my car, having run off its rails and gone berserk, finally crumpling in defeat.

So now I need new smoke alarms, a new garage door and a vacuum repaired. How was your Sunday?

To my lovely lurkers

Alright, you people. What's it going to take to get you to comment on this blog? Other than that Chatty Kathi, my bro, Amber and the occasional work/knitting bud, I never hear nothing from nobody. Are you all mute? (What's the computer equivalent of mute - keyboard-challenged?)

Sorry, just had to go off there. I do appreciate your readership, however silent. Seriously though, I'm getting a complex. Actually, yet another complex. And I already have plenty, what with only dating younger men who won't commit. But that's another post.

c'mon get happy

I'm all about UPBEAT! on this blog, and last night's post didn't measure up.  So here is a list of

Things making me happy this morning:

1. Not working
2. The perfect weather for not working
3. Getting kitty hickies from my latest kitten
4. The consulting work I'm doing (& getting paid for)
5. Henry's summer of camp, bikes & squirt guns
6. Blueberries are on sale at Costco
7. My knitting group drinks wine meets here tomorrow
8. My friend Mary & her crazy puppy who stay here weekends
9. The tadpoles growing in my pond-ette
10. Dressing like I was 12 all day (shorts/tank top/flipflops)

The absence of pain

Soaking in my hot tub tonight, I was thinking about all the times I had been there before, deeply in love and deeply in pain. I was struck with a realization. Sometimes, just a little, I miss the pain of breaking up.

I know that might disturb and perplex a few. You'll have to trust me when I say I'm not a masochist. I have a healthy sense of self-preservation and regard and (now and then) know what's best for me. Things are fine, everything's going alright, life is nice. I enjoy the simple pleasures of family, home and friends and spending time with myself: I enjoy my company. And I'm proud of myself for getting out of that destructive cycle of "make up to break up" (yes, I grew up in the 70's). But still . . .

Tonight I realized that that intense emotional state, be it love or pain, has left a sort of dullness now that it's gone.

Maybe this is what it's like to recover from addiction. Both the highs AND lows were somehow meaningful - the pleasure/pain receptors were firing and all that. Of course I don't wish for it to come back, and god forbid I ever go through that pain again. But I was feeling something deeply, and I guess I miss that intensity.

I may read this in disbelief tomorrow. But tonight, I just don't feel much of anything, and it's not just the wine.

Top 10 Work edition

Today is my department's official last day at our company, though we haven't actually been there for awhile. The swallowing and digesting of Edge by the Big Blue Globe is complete, and we've been spit out. Today we turn in keys and go to lunch, this time with margaritas. So, to mark the day:

Top ten things I'll miss about Edge:

1. My team, my peeps, my kids - I miss their energy and their stories.
2. Working with smart, motivated people who all like each other.
3. The candy in accounting.
4. Casual Friday every day.
5. Playing with the latest "devices" (cellphones)
6. Brainstorming on silly radio spots.
7. Hanging in PJ's office talking about knitting.
8. The warmth and openness of our CEO.
9. The company plane, stocked with donuts and beer.
10. Getting a paycheck every other week - sweet!

Over it

The spell has broken. The hook has come out. The chain has snapped. Pick your metaphor: I'm over it.

It is my on and off, drama-filled, wonderful/miserable relationship with my neighbor down the street. We were best friends and soulmates, but one of us couldn't commit long-term (as in: more than six months). He is sixteen years younger, but that's no excuse.

Yes, yes, I know: how many times have I said "This time it's really over!"? I won't even say it this time - maybe it's a jinx to my efforts to get past it. But this time it really feels different (I know, I've said that too). Only time will prove me right or wrong. My heart is on the mend, though there's still a bruise where it's been broken.

Meanwhile I'm out to keep digging my way to China. Primal, muddy, exhausting, satisfying work!

Water World

Here in the high desert, water is scarce (though you wouldn't know it to look at our green green golf courses (34 at last count) or our acres of suburban lawn). Water's on my mind as I tackle the projects of summer: cleaning gutters, cleaning and refilling the hot tub, setting up the vegetable garden, installing more drip irrigation, and the exciting one right now: building a water feature. (I love the term "water feature" - it's such realtor/landscaper talk.)

My lot is blessed with a towering natural rock outcropping, unusual for our suburban neighborhood. I've always dreamed about a waterfall and pool in these rocks, and this summer I have the time and motivation to build it.

What I have in mind is more of a seeping spring down the rock, like you see on the sides of the road over the passes here. So I'm digging out the sandpit I built six years ago for Henry and reclaiming it for a lovely little trickling "feature."

It's hard, messy, dirty work, and I've never been known for my digging skills. It will either be a simple, enjoyable project or one of those projects from hell where you spend loads of time and money and then hire somebody to fix it all.

I've been doing a lot of internet research and have compiled my shopping list: a pump (submersible, magnetic, direct drive? What size?), PVC hosing, clamps, skimmers, filters, liners, etc. Tomorrow I'm going to brave the landscaping supply store and allow the men there to guide me.

That's how I've done a lot of intimidating efforts by myself: renovating a sailboat; becoming a scuba instructor; starting my consulting business; adopting a baby, landscaping my lot and so on. By researching and asking a lot of questions of helpful neighbors, professionals, and total strangers. I appreciated Amber's comment about learning how to do things alone - I've been managing most of my adult life, and it's a continual source of personal accomplishment and confidence. As my sister says: "Girls can do anything!"

What projects have you tackled alone and mastered? What have you gotten out of it?

Random question meme

OK, Kathi D: I'm doing it. However, did you play  "10 things I've done that you haven't"? No? Let's see 'em, missy!

On to this week's random q's & a's.

What is your favorite quotable line from a movie?

 "I'll show you a life of the mind!" Guess which movie.

Who is the most famous person you have spoken to?

 I'm going to have to say Rodney Dangerfield. I even got kissed by him (ewww).

How many bags/boxes of potato chips are consumed at your place in a month?

 

None. Glad this wasn't about wine bottles.

Who is your all time favorite cartoon character?

Tweety Bird.

What foreign food dish do you prepare from scratch and serve?

Pad Thai. Are you impressed? Messiest dish ever.

What is your favorite section of the supermarket?

Um - the exit door?

What was your high school team’s mascot and what were the school’s colors?

The Fox Chapel Foxes!  "Red and white, we're all for you, raise our banners high-igh-igh-igh..." 4000 students - I'm not kidding. We were the pig in the baby boom python.

the Queen of Parsley

Today's harvest: arugula, parsley and sweetpea blossoms. Sunflowers, shallots and peas are progressing nicely as well.

It has been so beautiful here all week - not too hot, perfect temp. Friends have been dropping by for wine and meals, and the knitting group met here on the deck for some fresh air knitting. My X is out of town so I get some peace. And I'm not working, but getting paid. What could be better? If the kittens would stop crying so piteously, that's what.

How not to get over him

1. Keep his number on speed dial

2. Follow his baseball team, even though it's National League

3. Let your dog hang out with him

4. Ask him for help with your bird feeders

5. Calculate his time zone when he travels

6. Leave his photos on your screen saver

7. Picture the three freckles under his eyebrow

8. Take an afternoon nap together

9. Return his texts when he's out with his friends

10. Let him make you Sunday dinner

11. Wear your lucky skirt

12. Open a second bottle

    

Almost blue

Do you ever get in one of those moods?  Sad, nostalgic, moody, adrift?  Anomie, malaise; I could go on...

This post title refers to a great version of a song by Elvis Costello (no, not the album Almost Blue), but nobody says it better (or more) than Van Morrison:

In the afternoon, baby in my room
When the lights are dim way beyond the hill
In the afternoon, baby in my room
When I'm really down get me off the ground
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

In the morning time when I go outside
In the morning time it's like that all the while
In the afternoon when I'm in my room
Every single day, it won't go away
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

And it's in my heart, when we're apart
And it stops and starts, and it's in my heart
Every single day it's always in my way
When I'm making hay, all I've got to say
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

Well it's in my blood and it's in my veins
Here it comes again, when I'm in the rain
In the wind and rain, well the sun don't shine
Well it's always mine, all of the time
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

And it's in my life and it's all the time
It doesn't go away when the church bells chime
In the evening time when I drink my wine
In the evening time when it's on my mind
Melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

It's only melancholia
Oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia, oh melancholia
Melancholia, melancholia
They call it, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia, call it melancholia
Call it melancholia, melancholia, melancholia, melancholia

OK, we get it, Van! You're seriously bumming!

I'm feeling the same way today.

I'm sick...

of being sick. Combination of allergy, sinus infection, cold, sore throat, whatever - it's been dragging me down for a few weeks. I'm one of those people who ignores stuff like this as long as possible, but I'm going in to see my nose doc tomorrow. [Funny that different body parts have different doctors.]

We tossed out the marketing department today. We went through files, cabinets, drawers, shelves and desks and threw out 7 years of hard work. It was quite dismaying. First to review all the work that had been done and recall how important it seemed at the time, then to see all the garbage it turned into. We kept saying "Won't they want this stuff? Shouldn't we be keeping it?" But no one actually cares.

Good lesson in the Buddhist principle of impermanence. Things change.