Have you ever had a piece of really fine, Southern-cooked cornbread? Bacon grease, buttermilk, and an iron skillet are all involved in creating the delectable treat. Its rich, flavorful, crunchy-soft texture makes it perfect as a bread or a "sopper" - a side dish designed to mop up grave or juices so nothing of a delicious meal is wasted.
It's obvious, is it not, that I am a fan of cornbread. But this story has nothing to do with actually eating cornbread. There was no cornbread in either of the Christmas meals in which I participated. Ham was the main dish at both sides of the family's gatherings. The breads of choice were potato rolls and yeast rolls. No, cornbread just popped into my mind one day. The sixth day of our holiday trip, I was sitting in the living room with many beloved family members, and the thought just occurred - "I feel like a piece of cornbread.". I was in the overwhelming emotional state of love, grief, exhaustion, recovery from illness, desire to help, desire to sleep - and I pictured myself as a triangle of cornbread. I don't mean that I had been stirred and baked at a high heat. I mean that the consistency and purposes of the piece of cornbread as it sits on the dinner plate seemed to perfectly portray my perception of how I react to all overtures and approaches to me.
First things first - I feel loved. I feel loved by friends. I feel loved at work. I especially felt loved when visiting the families this past week. It's so good to get to see the family. I love seeing and spending time with everyone. We're all different, yet all a part of the same group. I think of it as a meal on a plate - all your different items, and I'm the piece of cornbread. Nobody would not want the cornbread there - I belong.
I feel covered. I feel as if everyone wants to spread a layer of protection over me like so much butter! Thank you, by the way. I have needed a lot of protection this year. Sometimes, without that layer of people to step up to others and say "Do you know who this is?" or "Let me tell you what you're dealing with here...", I would have dried up and crumbled away. Many family, friends, and even social media acquaintances have spread a layer of protection over me by coming to my defense in some matter or sympathizing with their own experience stories that make me laugh and feel as if I'm not alone.
A good cornbread is a little crumbly. It's a coarse bread, so those pieces sometimes just crumble away. I can identify with the crumbly nature of cornbread. Innocent things - tv commercials, e-mails, greeting cards, comments, questions, advice - all of those can crumble me in a second. Just as the fork doesn't mean to hit the cornbread on its way to the vegetables, the world doesn't mean to stab me. My consistency right now makes it easy for little things to just stick in and knock a piece of me away. If anyone can actually give me a real, factual system for not being too sensitive, I will listen and try it. How do you change the way you are emotionally made? The important part, though, is that even though I may get a bit crumbled, so many others are there for me to hold me together.
To know I'm not alone is such an advantage. There are big chunks of time when I am now physically alone. (There will be another post someday on the advantages of dogs and cats.) But I am not alone in any way other than that. Just as all the servings of food on a plate bump into each other, and the juices roll around to be soaked up by the cornbread, I am surrounded, in spirit, with so many of you that drop everything to be there if I call, text, make a comment, or cry out through a status. You reach out and I soak it up. Thank you. Just as cornbread is made richer by soaking in some juice (I'm thinking good old-fashioned beans and cornbread, a little sausage with it....), I am made richer and stronger by your support. I am trying to take steps on the road to recovery. When I stop still and stare, it may be your simple smile or pat on the arm that gives me strength to pick up my foot and take another step.
So, here's to the new year. I can make an honest toast that says "May it be better than 2013." Even thinking that hurts, though, because 2013 contained my last months of my "old" life. The life I thought I'd live forever. Thank goodness for the love and ideas and wisdom out there that this little ol' piece of cornbread can soak up. I might sit and stare and act a little bland, but please know I gather in your wishes, hugs and love and convert them to the strength to go on. Happy New Year.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
I Want to Run With the Hobbit! 12/14/13
I saw the second installation of "The Hobbit" last night. Yes, I'm a fan. A regular fan, not a Comic-con level fan (although I have attended Comic-con, go figure!) I have read the book quite a few times during my life, including one time OUT LOUD, completely through, to my children. I love Bilbo, the dwarfs, their escapades, Gandalf, Gollum, even Smaug. Orcs and dragons are bad. Hobbits, dwarfs and elves are good. What's not to love?
What I love best, though, is the way that the characters that are small in stature think that they are setting out (in the beginning) to accomplish a small task, for themselves. The dwarfs want their homeland back. Bilbo simply wants to experience a little adventure. However, since they have to cross the paths of other species, travel strange lands and awaken old rivalries, they end up being elevated to little heroes whose somewhat selfish endeavors could actually save their world from evil!
(My own liberal summation, apologies to Mr. Tolkien and all the experts.)
I sat through the opening of the movie, wondering why I didn't feel sad. Last Christmas, our family of four saw the first one together. There aren't too many occasions on which an entire family can see a movie adaptation of a book they have all read and loved. We even saw it at a restaurant/cinema place, similar to the one we were at last night. But I didn't feel sad. I have the 'he should be here' thoughts, but the atmosphere, being with my girls, the food.....the sadness was not able to attack. I'm glad it wasn't, because it enabled me to enjoy the movie from the very opening, where I was completely inspired by two scenes.
Near the beginning, the dwarfs, Bilbo and Gandalf have to run from the Orcs. The director, Peter Jackson, (who is extremely passionate about bring these books to film - I suspect he is part hobbit...) takes advantage of the beautiful New Zealand countryside and shows a long shot of the whole group just running across a beautiful field backed by gorgeous mountains. They must have acted the hell out of that running, because it got me. I sat there thinking "I want to run with the hobbits!!" A few scenes later, they cross some similarly gorgeous landscape, only this time on Beorn's stately horses. Once again, I could only think, "I want to ride with them! Go, you dwarfs and hobbit, go!"
The dwarfs and the hobbit were running and riding away from evil Orcs, but they were also running with a purpose to accomplish some good. They don't realize at that point in the story just how much good, and at what a cost, but they were running! They were riding horses, fast! I am inspired to run to do my small good things. I am inspired that if I do some small good in my life, that it might fit together like a jigsaw puzzle with others who do small good in their lives......and greater good can happen!
Almost everyone I know strives to do their own good each day. I have been fortunate in life to always be able to surround myself with positive people. I do know that we live in the real world, not Middle Earth. But I hope that the good that we all put out there every day can make a difference. Our enemy is not an evil sorcerer/wizard. We all use our good to counteract neglect, meanness, hunger, poverty, disease, all those "bad" things in the world. I'm glad I saw the dwarfs and hobbit running. It gave me joy. It had me cheering for the good guys. And it let me know that small good can work together for bigger purposes.
Sometimes, though, I approach my day, my golden opportunity to put more 'good' out there, with a sigh. I've had some good reasons, but I think it's time to try and run. One sigh or one deep breath can help, but then it's time to run. Time to smile, time to look and listen and encourage. That won't be easy every day, but it's worth a try. I want to run with the hobbit - but since that's impossible, I will try to "run" to make my own small difference for good.
What I love best, though, is the way that the characters that are small in stature think that they are setting out (in the beginning) to accomplish a small task, for themselves. The dwarfs want their homeland back. Bilbo simply wants to experience a little adventure. However, since they have to cross the paths of other species, travel strange lands and awaken old rivalries, they end up being elevated to little heroes whose somewhat selfish endeavors could actually save their world from evil!
(My own liberal summation, apologies to Mr. Tolkien and all the experts.)
I sat through the opening of the movie, wondering why I didn't feel sad. Last Christmas, our family of four saw the first one together. There aren't too many occasions on which an entire family can see a movie adaptation of a book they have all read and loved. We even saw it at a restaurant/cinema place, similar to the one we were at last night. But I didn't feel sad. I have the 'he should be here' thoughts, but the atmosphere, being with my girls, the food.....the sadness was not able to attack. I'm glad it wasn't, because it enabled me to enjoy the movie from the very opening, where I was completely inspired by two scenes.
Near the beginning, the dwarfs, Bilbo and Gandalf have to run from the Orcs. The director, Peter Jackson, (who is extremely passionate about bring these books to film - I suspect he is part hobbit...) takes advantage of the beautiful New Zealand countryside and shows a long shot of the whole group just running across a beautiful field backed by gorgeous mountains. They must have acted the hell out of that running, because it got me. I sat there thinking "I want to run with the hobbits!!" A few scenes later, they cross some similarly gorgeous landscape, only this time on Beorn's stately horses. Once again, I could only think, "I want to ride with them! Go, you dwarfs and hobbit, go!"
The dwarfs and the hobbit were running and riding away from evil Orcs, but they were also running with a purpose to accomplish some good. They don't realize at that point in the story just how much good, and at what a cost, but they were running! They were riding horses, fast! I am inspired to run to do my small good things. I am inspired that if I do some small good in my life, that it might fit together like a jigsaw puzzle with others who do small good in their lives......and greater good can happen!
Almost everyone I know strives to do their own good each day. I have been fortunate in life to always be able to surround myself with positive people. I do know that we live in the real world, not Middle Earth. But I hope that the good that we all put out there every day can make a difference. Our enemy is not an evil sorcerer/wizard. We all use our good to counteract neglect, meanness, hunger, poverty, disease, all those "bad" things in the world. I'm glad I saw the dwarfs and hobbit running. It gave me joy. It had me cheering for the good guys. And it let me know that small good can work together for bigger purposes.
Sometimes, though, I approach my day, my golden opportunity to put more 'good' out there, with a sigh. I've had some good reasons, but I think it's time to try and run. One sigh or one deep breath can help, but then it's time to run. Time to smile, time to look and listen and encourage. That won't be easy every day, but it's worth a try. I want to run with the hobbit - but since that's impossible, I will try to "run" to make my own small difference for good.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
The Hardest Questions of All. Thanks, Santa. 12/12/13
Little ones ask so many questions. Personal questions - "How old are you?" Silly questions - "Can I have that bracelet?" Blunt questions - "Are those real diamonds?" But the two hardest questions of all occur this time of year: "Mrs. Rush, is Santa real?" followed by "Mrs. Rush, do you believe in Santa?" Elementary teachers have to face the fact the there are as many levels of belief in their classroom as there are students. We also have to face the fact that those students believe whatever we say. We are the teachers. We speak wisdom and truth! I bill myself as a teacher that only tells the truth. So, when I was asked these difficult questions today, as I have been so many years in a row, I gave an answer that has been many years in the making:
"Is Santa real? Jailynn says he's not." Oh boy, here we go. Carefully worded truth. These were second graders. I personally found out the truth from a kid in my class in third grade. I was angry and disappointed. Considering this little questioner was about the same age, I spoke very cautiously:
"Now, my little friends, you might be hearing all sorts of things about Santa from your friends here in your class at school. I think that Santa is very much alive in the spirit of giving. Different families have different ways that they share that with their kids, so please believe whatever your parents tell you. This season is about love and giving. Sometimes we give gifts, sometimes we give a song, sometimes we give our time to help someone. Santa is one of the leaders behind all that giving, but we are all involved in it. I hope that you have the chance to give a little bit this season and see how it makes you happy. Even if what you give is your best smile." (The room erupts into smiley faces.)
"But what about what Jailynn said?" "Well, her family still believes in giving and being sweet. Her parents just explain it in a different way from your parents. But that's ok if the real purpose is being nice."
"Why doesn't Santa bring presents to grown-ups?" "Well, it's not because all grown-ups are bad. I'm certainly not bad!" (giggle eruption). "I think it's because when you are very little you only know how to get stuff. When you get older, you learn how to give yourself, so Santa doesn't have to give you things to teach you that anymore." (Can we please sing now?)
Then, the granddaddy of them all: "Mrs. Rush, do you believe in Santa?" Dead silence. They think they've got me. "I have to say yes, my friends. I believe in Santa as he represents the spirit of giving. I believe in Santa in the idea that if you are good, good things come to you. I try to practice that all year long on you boys and girls by giving treasure box goodies to the well-behaved children. I believe that once you really know Santa as a grown-up, you understand that giving is so much more than a present. Giving can be a smile, saying someone looks nice, visiting someone, calling them, writing them a note, or singing them a song. This is the truth that Santa represents and in my heart I know it's true. Believe what your mom and dad tell you. That will be different for everyone in here, but don't we celebrate differences at our school?" (Nodding heads) "Santa wants you to grow up to have a giving heart, so he sets the example." (Quiet.....) "Now let's sing - please give me some beautiful songs with beautiful voices today!" Smiles - music - action. Thanks, Santa.
"Is Santa real? Jailynn says he's not." Oh boy, here we go. Carefully worded truth. These were second graders. I personally found out the truth from a kid in my class in third grade. I was angry and disappointed. Considering this little questioner was about the same age, I spoke very cautiously:
"Now, my little friends, you might be hearing all sorts of things about Santa from your friends here in your class at school. I think that Santa is very much alive in the spirit of giving. Different families have different ways that they share that with their kids, so please believe whatever your parents tell you. This season is about love and giving. Sometimes we give gifts, sometimes we give a song, sometimes we give our time to help someone. Santa is one of the leaders behind all that giving, but we are all involved in it. I hope that you have the chance to give a little bit this season and see how it makes you happy. Even if what you give is your best smile." (The room erupts into smiley faces.)
"But what about what Jailynn said?" "Well, her family still believes in giving and being sweet. Her parents just explain it in a different way from your parents. But that's ok if the real purpose is being nice."
"Why doesn't Santa bring presents to grown-ups?" "Well, it's not because all grown-ups are bad. I'm certainly not bad!" (giggle eruption). "I think it's because when you are very little you only know how to get stuff. When you get older, you learn how to give yourself, so Santa doesn't have to give you things to teach you that anymore." (Can we please sing now?)
Then, the granddaddy of them all: "Mrs. Rush, do you believe in Santa?" Dead silence. They think they've got me. "I have to say yes, my friends. I believe in Santa as he represents the spirit of giving. I believe in Santa in the idea that if you are good, good things come to you. I try to practice that all year long on you boys and girls by giving treasure box goodies to the well-behaved children. I believe that once you really know Santa as a grown-up, you understand that giving is so much more than a present. Giving can be a smile, saying someone looks nice, visiting someone, calling them, writing them a note, or singing them a song. This is the truth that Santa represents and in my heart I know it's true. Believe what your mom and dad tell you. That will be different for everyone in here, but don't we celebrate differences at our school?" (Nodding heads) "Santa wants you to grow up to have a giving heart, so he sets the example." (Quiet.....) "Now let's sing - please give me some beautiful songs with beautiful voices today!" Smiles - music - action. Thanks, Santa.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
A Fingernail Fable 12/8/13
Friday morning hurry-up. All my fault, because I just didn't want to get out of bed. Have you ever been there? Life is happening outside your bedroom, outside your house, people are driving, drinking coffee, already having meetings......and your bed is just so warm and cozy that it's an actual argument with yourself to throw back the covers and stand up. We've all been there, I guess. When I do that, I can adjust the getting ready and still make it to work on time, but I still hurry. So during the hurry-up, I bent a fingernail backward trying to fasten my seat belt. A small reminder to slow down, it's all going to be there, whether I hurry to fasten the belt or do it at normal speed! Smoothing down the fingernail, I drove to work. The school was still there.
I'm not used to having any sort of long fingernails. A combination of weak nails and piano playing has always left me without nails as an accessory. Except for the few years of fake nails, they have always just been short and.... there. In the past eight months, they're stronger. They grow. I have to cut them and file them down. It's very strange to me - did a chemical change happen in my body when I entered grief? Or was it due to happen anyway? I don't know, but I do know that these knives that extend from my fingertips - and the care they require - is a new sensation.
Later Friday evening, the same backward-bent nail caught on something. You know, that sensation when it brushes cloth and you feel that little drag? I took a look. There was a cut in the middle of the tip. Not a big one, but like some tiny scissors just made one cut. I went to the place where I now keep the clippers and newly-acquired file, trimmed it and filed it smooth. It lost a little length, but it's still there. I suppose that was the price of decorating the tree. As Saturday came and went, more nails lost their way to the housework/decoration activities. They were shorter, but they were still there.
Today, Sunday, makes eight months since he's been gone. I don't really put much stock in anniversaries, but having made this portion of the grief journey personally, I see a truth. I slowly file away my old life. It's still there, it's just shorter. I can buy the low-fat eggnog now, there's nobody left to complain about it. When it's just me home, I have music playing. When it was just us, it was always the television. Still the same machine, just different. When a situation changes, I adapt. Humans adapt. The situation is still there, but we carry on and find ways to make it.
Adaptation isn't easy. Sometimes it even hurts! I took all the lights off the fifty-foot long stair garland yesterday. Those lights have been wound around that garland for so many years that they were caught in the little wires in certain places. As I separated the lights from the thin little wire inside the garland, I felt the thin wire slice right under my fingernail. OUCH! Who says decorating for Christmas is fun! After I finished the garland experience, (a new garland is now required....) I checked the fingernail damage. Sure enough, trim it, file it, it's still there. Only I think the cut might leave a little scar. And so it goes - the old life is still there, it's just been adapted, filed away, had its shape changed......with a few scars to show for the hurt along the way.
I'm not used to having any sort of long fingernails. A combination of weak nails and piano playing has always left me without nails as an accessory. Except for the few years of fake nails, they have always just been short and.... there. In the past eight months, they're stronger. They grow. I have to cut them and file them down. It's very strange to me - did a chemical change happen in my body when I entered grief? Or was it due to happen anyway? I don't know, but I do know that these knives that extend from my fingertips - and the care they require - is a new sensation.
Later Friday evening, the same backward-bent nail caught on something. You know, that sensation when it brushes cloth and you feel that little drag? I took a look. There was a cut in the middle of the tip. Not a big one, but like some tiny scissors just made one cut. I went to the place where I now keep the clippers and newly-acquired file, trimmed it and filed it smooth. It lost a little length, but it's still there. I suppose that was the price of decorating the tree. As Saturday came and went, more nails lost their way to the housework/decoration activities. They were shorter, but they were still there.
Today, Sunday, makes eight months since he's been gone. I don't really put much stock in anniversaries, but having made this portion of the grief journey personally, I see a truth. I slowly file away my old life. It's still there, it's just shorter. I can buy the low-fat eggnog now, there's nobody left to complain about it. When it's just me home, I have music playing. When it was just us, it was always the television. Still the same machine, just different. When a situation changes, I adapt. Humans adapt. The situation is still there, but we carry on and find ways to make it.
Adaptation isn't easy. Sometimes it even hurts! I took all the lights off the fifty-foot long stair garland yesterday. Those lights have been wound around that garland for so many years that they were caught in the little wires in certain places. As I separated the lights from the thin little wire inside the garland, I felt the thin wire slice right under my fingernail. OUCH! Who says decorating for Christmas is fun! After I finished the garland experience, (a new garland is now required....) I checked the fingernail damage. Sure enough, trim it, file it, it's still there. Only I think the cut might leave a little scar. And so it goes - the old life is still there, it's just been adapted, filed away, had its shape changed......with a few scars to show for the hurt along the way.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
My (burned out) light bulb moment 12/1/13
I have been shoring up the defenses. "The holidays are hard...". Every friend that has recent experience with loss, everyone with one ounce of common sense even, will share that information with me. Not to be mean, just a way of saying they understand, they commiserate, they're there for me. So I prepared. I have stayed busy. I had company. I had the kids around. I cooked. We shopped. Busy, busy, busy. The holiday, Thanksgiving day itself, was great. We had fun. It wasn't until today, with everybody gone again, that the reality, and the realization of what "The holidays are hard" really means.
Dropping nephew Zach at the airport on Saturday was bittersweet. We love that kid. (Not really a kid, but a kid to me!) We'll see him at Christmas, so we said goodbye, and headed on to more busy-ness. The girls crammed in last minute shopping and nails, then spent the last night with their respective friends. The quiet was relaxing. I watched a little TV with kitten Isis on my lap, then went to sleep knowing it was the last night of a full house. Still, I thought I was prepared. The holiday was past, I made it, no breakdowns. I had answered everyone that checked on me. I held my head up, I held grief at bay.
Unfortunately, all my shields can't stop the slow tide of sadness that creeps around the edges and invades my mind and my heart. I noticed the feeling before the girls even woke up. I did the usual, and hid it away. Even my own mom says "she hides it very well....". I can't help it, it's natural. We got the girls fed, packed and ready. Little Isis got in the car, and they were off down the road. One or two tears rolled, but I found things to do.
After I finished a few regular chores, I decided I could at least put up the Christmas tree. We didn't get to that. No decorating, just put together the three pieces of the pre-lit tree. Easy, and a start. I love this tree. I've only had it two years, it's ten feet tall, pre-lit and beautiful. I brought it in, got started, and when I got to the top, the third piece, one whole section of lights was burned out. I unplugged and re-plugged. I changed the fuse. I changed three bulbs and said forget it - I'm going to get a new string of lights and just put it on top of those.
I threw on a decent shirt, put on my shoes and drove to Walgreen's. Two strings of clear lights were left, and one of them was mine. I paid, got in the car and wham - it hit me. I sobbed so hard on the way home I'm surprised I could drive. I kept thinking "This is what everybody told me - the holidays are hard!" It wasn't putting up the tree, it wasn't even the burned-out lights. He would not have fixed the lights - the tree was my domain. The big sadness was having to face and deal with the problem in silence. I would have been able to complain to him. Those burned-out lights actually gave me a bright "light bulb moment" of my own. A huge part of our married life and any family life is that we can complain to each other. And, being married, or being family, you support that other person. I miss the person I could "bitch to". I miss him making fun of me when I complained about silly things. That's why I think the holidays are hard - there are more very happy and very stressful moments than at other times. And sharing those moments is a habit. I had to have a good cry about missing my sounding board. The expected holiday breakdown had arrived, uninvited and unwelcome. It passed when my super-friend made me get up and walk, as we do most nights.
After the walk, I put the new lights around the dark area of the tree. It looks perfect now. What's dark can be made light again. The burned-out bulbs are still underneath the new ones, though. Hopefully they "hide them very well". Bring on Christmas. I'm carrying my tissues.
Dropping nephew Zach at the airport on Saturday was bittersweet. We love that kid. (Not really a kid, but a kid to me!) We'll see him at Christmas, so we said goodbye, and headed on to more busy-ness. The girls crammed in last minute shopping and nails, then spent the last night with their respective friends. The quiet was relaxing. I watched a little TV with kitten Isis on my lap, then went to sleep knowing it was the last night of a full house. Still, I thought I was prepared. The holiday was past, I made it, no breakdowns. I had answered everyone that checked on me. I held my head up, I held grief at bay.
Unfortunately, all my shields can't stop the slow tide of sadness that creeps around the edges and invades my mind and my heart. I noticed the feeling before the girls even woke up. I did the usual, and hid it away. Even my own mom says "she hides it very well....". I can't help it, it's natural. We got the girls fed, packed and ready. Little Isis got in the car, and they were off down the road. One or two tears rolled, but I found things to do.
After I finished a few regular chores, I decided I could at least put up the Christmas tree. We didn't get to that. No decorating, just put together the three pieces of the pre-lit tree. Easy, and a start. I love this tree. I've only had it two years, it's ten feet tall, pre-lit and beautiful. I brought it in, got started, and when I got to the top, the third piece, one whole section of lights was burned out. I unplugged and re-plugged. I changed the fuse. I changed three bulbs and said forget it - I'm going to get a new string of lights and just put it on top of those.
I threw on a decent shirt, put on my shoes and drove to Walgreen's. Two strings of clear lights were left, and one of them was mine. I paid, got in the car and wham - it hit me. I sobbed so hard on the way home I'm surprised I could drive. I kept thinking "This is what everybody told me - the holidays are hard!" It wasn't putting up the tree, it wasn't even the burned-out lights. He would not have fixed the lights - the tree was my domain. The big sadness was having to face and deal with the problem in silence. I would have been able to complain to him. Those burned-out lights actually gave me a bright "light bulb moment" of my own. A huge part of our married life and any family life is that we can complain to each other. And, being married, or being family, you support that other person. I miss the person I could "bitch to". I miss him making fun of me when I complained about silly things. That's why I think the holidays are hard - there are more very happy and very stressful moments than at other times. And sharing those moments is a habit. I had to have a good cry about missing my sounding board. The expected holiday breakdown had arrived, uninvited and unwelcome. It passed when my super-friend made me get up and walk, as we do most nights.
After the walk, I put the new lights around the dark area of the tree. It looks perfect now. What's dark can be made light again. The burned-out bulbs are still underneath the new ones, though. Hopefully they "hide them very well". Bring on Christmas. I'm carrying my tissues.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Holiday Lessons from the Animal Kingdom - or - Why the Cat Threw Up 11/27/13
The cat threw up already. It's only Wednesday, day BEFORE Thanksgiving, and there's some purging going on around here. Poor Roxy. She's not really purging, you all know cats don't do that, right? But she is suffering a common holiday malady: invasion of space and routine.
I love the holidays. I love time off work, I love seeing family and friends. I'm especially grateful to not only have my precious girls home from college, but nephew Zach visiting as well. We are knitting together a united front against the sadness of missing Scott. We are staying busy, either running around or binge TV-watching. And of course, cooking and eating. So far, so good. And, before you read any further...he is the perfect guest, he's family, I do my thing and don't stress. All reflections in this blog came to me as - yes - Roxy threw up.
Along with the college girls comes Isis, the college kitty. She's about six months old and cute as can be. She's gotten much bigger since leaving here in August. I no longer have to block the spindles on the upstairs overlook for fear that she will wiggle through and fall to the first floor, as she did in July. She has her own opinion about where she wants to go and which other animals she likes. Basically, it's nobody.
Now to be fair, the other animals either hate her or want to play too rough. (55-lb dog vs. six-month-old kitten, you know?) So everybody is walking around all stressed out. Except maybe Gordon, the big dog, he only wants to play! I wish it were easier and faster to say to animals: "You're in this together, now let's be nice to each other!" It occurred to me, just after Roxy lost her breakfast this morning, that the last time she did that was when Isis was here. My cat gets stressed and throws up! I know, gross.
But how different is that from any of us that are hosting or visiting over the holiday, and have our routine interrupted? Do we embrace it or does it just make us a little sick or even ruin our day? I personally embrace change of routine on my terms. For example - yes, I will have kolaches for breakfast one morning, but it's back to the cereal for me after that! I love people being around, having fun, especially if they are the kind of people that I can say "Do your thing, I'm going in here for a while!"
I hope that all my friends and any other readers and find a way to enjoy and celebrate the disruption of routine that comes with holidays on their own terms. My animal friends can't talk with each other and discover that they really don't have to stress. Roxy is growling at Isis as I type this! We can, however, be truthful about our feelings in a considerate way, and make non-routine days work nicely! Whoever you spend your holiday with, you and those people are a united front against the sadness, heartbreak and grief in the world. Laugh together, cry together, gorge on that meal together......Together. And no throwing up. (at least, not from stress!) Happy Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for all of you.
I love the holidays. I love time off work, I love seeing family and friends. I'm especially grateful to not only have my precious girls home from college, but nephew Zach visiting as well. We are knitting together a united front against the sadness of missing Scott. We are staying busy, either running around or binge TV-watching. And of course, cooking and eating. So far, so good. And, before you read any further...he is the perfect guest, he's family, I do my thing and don't stress. All reflections in this blog came to me as - yes - Roxy threw up.
Along with the college girls comes Isis, the college kitty. She's about six months old and cute as can be. She's gotten much bigger since leaving here in August. I no longer have to block the spindles on the upstairs overlook for fear that she will wiggle through and fall to the first floor, as she did in July. She has her own opinion about where she wants to go and which other animals she likes. Basically, it's nobody.
Now to be fair, the other animals either hate her or want to play too rough. (55-lb dog vs. six-month-old kitten, you know?) So everybody is walking around all stressed out. Except maybe Gordon, the big dog, he only wants to play! I wish it were easier and faster to say to animals: "You're in this together, now let's be nice to each other!" It occurred to me, just after Roxy lost her breakfast this morning, that the last time she did that was when Isis was here. My cat gets stressed and throws up! I know, gross.
But how different is that from any of us that are hosting or visiting over the holiday, and have our routine interrupted? Do we embrace it or does it just make us a little sick or even ruin our day? I personally embrace change of routine on my terms. For example - yes, I will have kolaches for breakfast one morning, but it's back to the cereal for me after that! I love people being around, having fun, especially if they are the kind of people that I can say "Do your thing, I'm going in here for a while!"
I hope that all my friends and any other readers and find a way to enjoy and celebrate the disruption of routine that comes with holidays on their own terms. My animal friends can't talk with each other and discover that they really don't have to stress. Roxy is growling at Isis as I type this! We can, however, be truthful about our feelings in a considerate way, and make non-routine days work nicely! Whoever you spend your holiday with, you and those people are a united front against the sadness, heartbreak and grief in the world. Laugh together, cry together, gorge on that meal together......Together. And no throwing up. (at least, not from stress!) Happy Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for all of you.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Treasure Box Day 11/16/13
There he sat, at the front of his row. A little five-year-old boy. Blond hair, cute as a button. Because he was at the front, the other kids couldn't see what he was doing. His eyes shut tightly, his lips mouthing unintelligible words and his hands clasped together with only knuckles showing.......he was praying. My heart melted at the same time I laughed out loud with delight. I didn't tell everyone, I simply enjoyed the moment. You see, it was Friday; time for me, the teacher, to select the treasure box winners. Little boy only wanted a toy truck or a plastic bug. And yes, he was praying HARD for it!
You see, as the 'ruler' of my classroom, I employ some 'tricks of the trade'. I had told the same little boy on Wednesday that he was having a WONDERFUL week, and that I could tell he was trying to get the treasure on Friday. The power of suggestion and dollar store goodies goes a long way in my little kingdom. I must clarify one thing: little boy is not a troublesome kid. He is also not perfect. He is a regular little boy. He knows that he talks when he shouldn't sometimes, and that he stuck his tongue out at a friend once. He is.....normal. And once in awhile, normal wins.
I love the hope that was expressed by this happening. I love the balance in this world. On the same Wednesday that I praised little boy, I had a horrible morning. I needed a regular blood test, the kind where you have to not eat after midnight. No problem in the evening. BIG problem in the morning. If I don't get my coffee and Cocoa Krispies, I don't function well. Yes, every day, without fail, coffee and a bowl of Cocoa Krispies. Since I was ten. (Well, not the coffee...) So I grouchily skipped breakfast and headed out early Wednesday morning for the lab, knowing there were loads of drive-thrus between the lab and work. About halfway there - BOOM!! Someone ran into the back of my car. No coffee, no cereal, and now, rear-ended. We pulled over, took a look - not bad at all - he gave me all his info, there was a baby in his car.....he was nice, I was nice, and I left and headed to the lab. Offering my arm was easy compared to skipping breakfast and getting hit! As I left the lab and headed for the drive-thru, I got a message on my phone. A message from a dear, far-away friend. It just said "Good Morning! You've been on my mind this morning...hope you have a great day! love and hugs!" I cried. I knew I needed to head straight to work, no down time to 'shake off' the events of the morning before teaching my large groups of darlings. And with that message, I was reminded that so many people out there are thinking about me and praying for me. It's the other thing, besides the precious little children, that give me the hope and the balance.
When we pray for, think about and encourage each other, we are storing up treasure in a much more important treasure box than the one in my classroom. I have been more aware, since my tragedy, of the sending of a card, or the sharing of some words of comfort. I'm not perfectly batting .1000, but I'm trying to reach out more. You see, little boy actually earned his treasure (yes, he got picked!) through the whole week. His 'prayer' was adorable, but his constancy of behavior won me over. I appreciate the constancy of encouragement that I get right now. Whether it's in the form of notes, words, smiles, conversations.....or prayer; I love you and thank you for balancing my days. And, along with little treasure boy, every now and then I can raise my fist and say "YES!" . Because I'm going to make it.
You see, as the 'ruler' of my classroom, I employ some 'tricks of the trade'. I had told the same little boy on Wednesday that he was having a WONDERFUL week, and that I could tell he was trying to get the treasure on Friday. The power of suggestion and dollar store goodies goes a long way in my little kingdom. I must clarify one thing: little boy is not a troublesome kid. He is also not perfect. He is a regular little boy. He knows that he talks when he shouldn't sometimes, and that he stuck his tongue out at a friend once. He is.....normal. And once in awhile, normal wins.
I love the hope that was expressed by this happening. I love the balance in this world. On the same Wednesday that I praised little boy, I had a horrible morning. I needed a regular blood test, the kind where you have to not eat after midnight. No problem in the evening. BIG problem in the morning. If I don't get my coffee and Cocoa Krispies, I don't function well. Yes, every day, without fail, coffee and a bowl of Cocoa Krispies. Since I was ten. (Well, not the coffee...) So I grouchily skipped breakfast and headed out early Wednesday morning for the lab, knowing there were loads of drive-thrus between the lab and work. About halfway there - BOOM!! Someone ran into the back of my car. No coffee, no cereal, and now, rear-ended. We pulled over, took a look - not bad at all - he gave me all his info, there was a baby in his car.....he was nice, I was nice, and I left and headed to the lab. Offering my arm was easy compared to skipping breakfast and getting hit! As I left the lab and headed for the drive-thru, I got a message on my phone. A message from a dear, far-away friend. It just said "Good Morning! You've been on my mind this morning...hope you have a great day! love and hugs!" I cried. I knew I needed to head straight to work, no down time to 'shake off' the events of the morning before teaching my large groups of darlings. And with that message, I was reminded that so many people out there are thinking about me and praying for me. It's the other thing, besides the precious little children, that give me the hope and the balance.
When we pray for, think about and encourage each other, we are storing up treasure in a much more important treasure box than the one in my classroom. I have been more aware, since my tragedy, of the sending of a card, or the sharing of some words of comfort. I'm not perfectly batting .1000, but I'm trying to reach out more. You see, little boy actually earned his treasure (yes, he got picked!) through the whole week. His 'prayer' was adorable, but his constancy of behavior won me over. I appreciate the constancy of encouragement that I get right now. Whether it's in the form of notes, words, smiles, conversations.....or prayer; I love you and thank you for balancing my days. And, along with little treasure boy, every now and then I can raise my fist and say "YES!" . Because I'm going to make it.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Practicing What I Preach or How to Act Like a Grown-Up 11/10/13
"He hit me!" "I did not!" "Yes, you did, your elbow hit me when you sat down!" Mrs. McCarty then intervenes: "If I accidentally stepped on your hand, would I say 'sorry' so, so quickly?" Elbow child; "Yes...." "Then say 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that' to her." Elbow child, mumbling, head down; "I'm sorry." Mrs. McCarty; "You didn't mean to do that, you're just saying you're sorry that it happened! That's how we are nice to each other!" Elbow child; nothing.
This happens at least once a week. In elementary school, little accidental bumps and jostles can be interpreted by the 'victim' as a crime against themselves and all of humanity. I always use myself as the example 'bad guy', because they know what my reaction would be. I'm so, so sweet and nice, and I would feel terrible if I stepped on their little hand (which does happen but only a couple times a year, so I have a great safety average! And no serious injuries ever, thank goodness.) By telling them to apologize for the fact that the mistake happened, I hope I'm teaching manners, maturity, responsibility, you name it. The thing is.....can I practice what I preach with adults?
In the process of walking through my grief, I present what I consider a very 'normal' outside. I work, laugh, joke, complain, suggest....all different from how I feel on the inside. I hide the sadness by instinct. It's not because of you that I hide it - it's because of me. Sometimes I go a little further than I want in the 'normal'. Evidently, one day, a while ago, I made a comment at lunch (based on a happening conversation, mind you...) that 'maybe there's someone out there for me'. I didn't mean now. I might not mean ever. It was an offhand comment, in context of the conversation. There was someone there, though, that took my words to heart.
This particular someone is on a totally different path, having been divorced for a long while, and recently seeing someone. A couple of weeks after my comment, this person seriously encouraged me to 'Go online, honey. Match.com, it worked for me.' I kind of said "Oh really!" and turned the conversation back to my people at my table. Later, I complained to friends. That bothered me. I was approaching only six months without him, how dare this person suggest such a thing right now? After I complained, and got the sufficient amount of pity from my net (what's a net? read this and find out: http://momastery.com/blog/2013/11/07/idea-title-im-even-sure-read-nets-well-call-nets/
I'm not on drugs, or bulimic, or getting arrested....and I have a net. I am more fortunate than young Glennon. I am also thankful that she has found her way in life and for her ability to inspire others. So...I complained to my net about that 'insensitive remark', got my assurances that I was right, that person was wrong, and was done with it. I mean, we love to complain to our friends and be assured that our view is the correct one, right? It's a national sport!
Well, it happened a second time. The person had reached a milestone in their new relationship, and was obviously (and rightly) elated. And once again, they took the chance to look at me and say 'Match.com, I'm tellin' ya, Ms. McCarty'. OH!!! I packed up what was left of my chips and yogurt and walked out. I found some net people. I told them, incensed. I got pity and confirmation (Thank you net!) And then, I realized.....for some reason, that person thinks that's OK, and this is going to keep happening unless I say something. Boy, did that let the air out of my balloon. I was going to have to address it, instead of complaining about it! I knew that as soon as I asked the person to stop, they would totally apologize, maybe even feel badly about having done it, but I DIDN'T WANT to talk to the person. I had turned into elbow kid!
It took two days. I knew I had to, and I knew I wanted to do it privately. I am the grown-up. When by chance I finally said...."You know, I'm just not ready to hear that, the match.com thing. Congratulations, so happy for you, but not me, not yet." The person apologized, said 'of course'.....and brought up the time I said 'maybe there's someone out there for me'. The person had taken me at my word. My 'trying to be normal' conversation turned on me, said 'Oh, this is what you want, eh?' and then I had to be a grown-up and say "Sorry, but please don't..." because of my mistake of being fake. I did it. I was the grown-up. My net applauded me. I, on the other hand, did not applaud myself, because I realized that my offhand comment had fed the whole situation.
Where do I go from here? If I am the grown-up I think I am, I guess I need to mix a little of my inner sadness in with my outer 'normal'. The icy covering needs to break and mix with the deep dark cold water of sorrow, and form a slush that can create a completely different attitude from either 'fake' or 'hidden'. I'm going to work on that. It's the grown-up thing to do.
A little addendum:
What if I had gone to the person accusingly? What if I had done it publicly? Too many people these days don't understand the good manners of taking turns to talk things over, and listening to the other side. Prime example: any 'political' news show where both parties or pundits that side with both parties are represented. They all end up yelling and interrupting, guests and hosts alike. I shudder to think that America bases its actions on what we see on the television. One of my main problem with politics in any forum is the lack of manners. How many families have talks about issues? How many do it the grown-up way? Do you listen and consider before you yell your defense? I have news for everyone - you're not always right. You're also sometimes only partially right. If you don't listen to what the other side says, you're compounding, not solving the problem.
This happens at least once a week. In elementary school, little accidental bumps and jostles can be interpreted by the 'victim' as a crime against themselves and all of humanity. I always use myself as the example 'bad guy', because they know what my reaction would be. I'm so, so sweet and nice, and I would feel terrible if I stepped on their little hand (which does happen but only a couple times a year, so I have a great safety average! And no serious injuries ever, thank goodness.) By telling them to apologize for the fact that the mistake happened, I hope I'm teaching manners, maturity, responsibility, you name it. The thing is.....can I practice what I preach with adults?
In the process of walking through my grief, I present what I consider a very 'normal' outside. I work, laugh, joke, complain, suggest....all different from how I feel on the inside. I hide the sadness by instinct. It's not because of you that I hide it - it's because of me. Sometimes I go a little further than I want in the 'normal'. Evidently, one day, a while ago, I made a comment at lunch (based on a happening conversation, mind you...) that 'maybe there's someone out there for me'. I didn't mean now. I might not mean ever. It was an offhand comment, in context of the conversation. There was someone there, though, that took my words to heart.
This particular someone is on a totally different path, having been divorced for a long while, and recently seeing someone. A couple of weeks after my comment, this person seriously encouraged me to 'Go online, honey. Match.com, it worked for me.' I kind of said "Oh really!" and turned the conversation back to my people at my table. Later, I complained to friends. That bothered me. I was approaching only six months without him, how dare this person suggest such a thing right now? After I complained, and got the sufficient amount of pity from my net (what's a net? read this and find out: http://momastery.com/blog/2013/11/07/idea-title-im-even-sure-read-nets-well-call-nets/
I'm not on drugs, or bulimic, or getting arrested....and I have a net. I am more fortunate than young Glennon. I am also thankful that she has found her way in life and for her ability to inspire others. So...I complained to my net about that 'insensitive remark', got my assurances that I was right, that person was wrong, and was done with it. I mean, we love to complain to our friends and be assured that our view is the correct one, right? It's a national sport!
Well, it happened a second time. The person had reached a milestone in their new relationship, and was obviously (and rightly) elated. And once again, they took the chance to look at me and say 'Match.com, I'm tellin' ya, Ms. McCarty'. OH!!! I packed up what was left of my chips and yogurt and walked out. I found some net people. I told them, incensed. I got pity and confirmation (Thank you net!) And then, I realized.....for some reason, that person thinks that's OK, and this is going to keep happening unless I say something. Boy, did that let the air out of my balloon. I was going to have to address it, instead of complaining about it! I knew that as soon as I asked the person to stop, they would totally apologize, maybe even feel badly about having done it, but I DIDN'T WANT to talk to the person. I had turned into elbow kid!
It took two days. I knew I had to, and I knew I wanted to do it privately. I am the grown-up. When by chance I finally said...."You know, I'm just not ready to hear that, the match.com thing. Congratulations, so happy for you, but not me, not yet." The person apologized, said 'of course'.....and brought up the time I said 'maybe there's someone out there for me'. The person had taken me at my word. My 'trying to be normal' conversation turned on me, said 'Oh, this is what you want, eh?' and then I had to be a grown-up and say "Sorry, but please don't..." because of my mistake of being fake. I did it. I was the grown-up. My net applauded me. I, on the other hand, did not applaud myself, because I realized that my offhand comment had fed the whole situation.
Where do I go from here? If I am the grown-up I think I am, I guess I need to mix a little of my inner sadness in with my outer 'normal'. The icy covering needs to break and mix with the deep dark cold water of sorrow, and form a slush that can create a completely different attitude from either 'fake' or 'hidden'. I'm going to work on that. It's the grown-up thing to do.
A little addendum:
What if I had gone to the person accusingly? What if I had done it publicly? Too many people these days don't understand the good manners of taking turns to talk things over, and listening to the other side. Prime example: any 'political' news show where both parties or pundits that side with both parties are represented. They all end up yelling and interrupting, guests and hosts alike. I shudder to think that America bases its actions on what we see on the television. One of my main problem with politics in any forum is the lack of manners. How many families have talks about issues? How many do it the grown-up way? Do you listen and consider before you yell your defense? I have news for everyone - you're not always right. You're also sometimes only partially right. If you don't listen to what the other side says, you're compounding, not solving the problem.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
I've Had Enough. (The one you have to look to find because I tell the truth) 11/5/13
I've had enough of some people. Stop. Just stop. Don't tell me how to find a man. It will be six months in a couple of days, and my heart still thinks he'll walk through the door. There are so many things for him to do. How am I supposed to know how to contact his Norwegian accountant, much less pay Norwegian taxes? I can see it now - little Norway police arriving at my school, asking for me and arresting me, even though I don't have a dragon tattoo! How much is 629 in Norwegian, anyway?
Work gets in the way. Yes, I've said in other posts that it's my salvation, but sometimes, it feels as it I'm back in the music building. You know, posing as a music major. I always felt that way, because I didn't have that "Ahhhhh!" attitude about all the classical music stuff. I would rather be out eating pizza or kissing on my boyfriend than practicing until 1 a.m. For that I was weird? These days, there are the 1 a.m. people in elementary school. Okay, maybe 7 p.m. But I don't share that desire. That building gets me - all of me - wholeheartedly - (well, I fake that occasionally) - from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. After that, I'm not the music teacher anymore. I'm back to being me. The widow. The single mom. The caretaker of the house/pets/accounts/vehicles/pool/you-name-it-I'm-in-charge-of-it. When I need to locate four particular papers for the accountant, two more for the lawyer, and do a couple of hours of homework for the financial planner, I really feel as if work needs to go away. Is there such thing as widow's leave? There needs to be, and it needs to be the type of leave that can be spread out for when you need it most.
I rant here, and I want attention here. I write because I want people to read this and understand (which you do) and give me an encouraging comment (which you do). I am an attention hog with a blog. Please don't hate me. Let me down gently. At six months of grief, that will be the only gentle thing that happens. Life moves on, and I'm expected to move with it. And I have. At a limp. If you know me, you see it. If you don't know me, I look "so strong". Hell, what else am I supposed to do, stay under the covers for days on end? I wish. I wish my personality allowed me to be a bit more of a delicate flower. Unfortunately, I am not. I would control everything if I could. Only if I physically can't or get absolutely shut down do I not exercise control over a situation. Man, oh man, did death laugh at me. I shouted at it, cried to it, and have sulked behind it for all these months. I don't like you, death.
I don't like a lot of things right now, and one of those things is people that "do it wrong". Thank goodness, there are only a few of those around me, probably because I keep my shield up almost all the time. There I go again, being positive behind a negative, because I can't group punish! Not everybody is bad! I just want to say, bad ones: just shut up. I'm done with you. I will leave the room or I will say "Not talking about that right now, thanks". Or just: (my favorite from England) "Can't". It must be said with a British accent, though. And if I do that, some American might not even know what I'm saying, or might think it's naughty.
If you found this post, know that I'm done. This is hard. I've had to learn a new way of defending myself. Until the insensitive idiots out there can stop, maybe learn, maybe change their demeanor; or at least until they shut up......my armor is on, but I'm now armed, and I might stick it to you a time or two. Someone should.
Work gets in the way. Yes, I've said in other posts that it's my salvation, but sometimes, it feels as it I'm back in the music building. You know, posing as a music major. I always felt that way, because I didn't have that "Ahhhhh!" attitude about all the classical music stuff. I would rather be out eating pizza or kissing on my boyfriend than practicing until 1 a.m. For that I was weird? These days, there are the 1 a.m. people in elementary school. Okay, maybe 7 p.m. But I don't share that desire. That building gets me - all of me - wholeheartedly - (well, I fake that occasionally) - from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. After that, I'm not the music teacher anymore. I'm back to being me. The widow. The single mom. The caretaker of the house/pets/accounts/vehicles/pool/you-name-it-I'm-in-charge-of-it. When I need to locate four particular papers for the accountant, two more for the lawyer, and do a couple of hours of homework for the financial planner, I really feel as if work needs to go away. Is there such thing as widow's leave? There needs to be, and it needs to be the type of leave that can be spread out for when you need it most.
I rant here, and I want attention here. I write because I want people to read this and understand (which you do) and give me an encouraging comment (which you do). I am an attention hog with a blog. Please don't hate me. Let me down gently. At six months of grief, that will be the only gentle thing that happens. Life moves on, and I'm expected to move with it. And I have. At a limp. If you know me, you see it. If you don't know me, I look "so strong". Hell, what else am I supposed to do, stay under the covers for days on end? I wish. I wish my personality allowed me to be a bit more of a delicate flower. Unfortunately, I am not. I would control everything if I could. Only if I physically can't or get absolutely shut down do I not exercise control over a situation. Man, oh man, did death laugh at me. I shouted at it, cried to it, and have sulked behind it for all these months. I don't like you, death.
I don't like a lot of things right now, and one of those things is people that "do it wrong". Thank goodness, there are only a few of those around me, probably because I keep my shield up almost all the time. There I go again, being positive behind a negative, because I can't group punish! Not everybody is bad! I just want to say, bad ones: just shut up. I'm done with you. I will leave the room or I will say "Not talking about that right now, thanks". Or just: (my favorite from England) "Can't". It must be said with a British accent, though. And if I do that, some American might not even know what I'm saying, or might think it's naughty.
If you found this post, know that I'm done. This is hard. I've had to learn a new way of defending myself. Until the insensitive idiots out there can stop, maybe learn, maybe change their demeanor; or at least until they shut up......my armor is on, but I'm now armed, and I might stick it to you a time or two. Someone should.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
How Gratefulness Fits 11/3/13
I saw a couple of posts on November 1st. "I am thankful for..." Some even included the "30 days of thankfulness" challenge. It's a great exercise, coming up with something different and not necessarily the same cookie-cutter sayings. Some of the ones I read are quite amusing. I considered trying it, but I just can't. It's not that I don't have so much for which to be grateful. It's just that I; 1) am afraid to commit to anything not required right now and 2) am afraid that rooting around in my brain for something new every day will dredge up anger and hopelessness instead of thankfulness.
I am probably one of the most grateful people in the world this year. Yes, I am a widow. But, as my widow friend Ann says (about herself, and I am in agreement about me), I am in better shape than 90% of any other widows. He left us in good shape financially and that enables me to face the rest of life, even if it is without him. I don't know what shape I would be in if that were not the case. I don't even like to think about it. He left us the greatest gift he could by being smart with financial planning, and for that I am repeating "thank you, thank you so much" in my head at all times.
I am so grateful for my family. My precious girls have stepped up and shown themselves to be determined to do well in school and help out when necessary by working also. My Mom and Dad are there whenever I need them, as are my sisters. Scott's family is still my own - they check on me and let me know I still belong with them. I am grateful for my "family of friends" (sorry, Peter Frampton, I had to borrow that!), the ones that make sure I get out and do things and don't become a hermit, and the ones that take the time at work to stop, talk a minute, be there at special events - I am surrounded by wonderful, smart, kind people.
I am grateful for my job. Even though I get ready every morning in an empty house, and make sure I turn off everything before I leave, because nobody else is there, within an hour or so I'm in a noisy, boisterous, mostly happy crowd of children. They are funny, they are smart, they are like sponges when I find the right presentation of my subject (or any other item up for discussion!) You know how you tear your cuticle, or get a paper cut on your fingertip? And then when you put a Band-Aid on there kind of tight, it doesn't hurt as much? That's how I feel during the school day. I feel as if there's a tight Band-Aid around the pain and it simmers down and lets me teach and enjoy my little darlings.
At home, the Band-Aid feeling kind of disappears, but there are four lovely creatures that do their best toannoy soothe me. How did we ever end up with four pets? Cuddles, Marylebone, Roxy and Gordon are the light of my home life. If you do have pets, then you know that their personalities are individual and adorable. Some days, I know I have to get out of bed, only because Cuddles has to have her thyroid medication. When I get home each day, the house is not empty. I am greeted by loads of tail-wagging and meowing. Some nights, when I can't sleep, both dogs snuggle close to me, whether I talk or cry. And Roxy, well, Roxy just doesn't let anyone do anything she doesn't like, and insists upon them doing what she does like. (In a very loud voice, of course.) Thank goodness, one of the things she does like is sitting on my lap and being my friend.
So, you see, I am extremely thankful. I love the fact that America has a Thanksgiving Day, but even more, I love people that keep thankfulness in their hearts all year 'round. Thank you notes, Facebook messages and statuses, e-mails, phone calls, cards.......I'm not perfect, by any means, but I try. My friends do, too. You, my friends, are welcome to show the social media world the 30 things you are thankful for each day this month - I enjoy reading them! But I know you better than that. I know that you are grateful for life and its blessings year-round. As am I.
I am probably one of the most grateful people in the world this year. Yes, I am a widow. But, as my widow friend Ann says (about herself, and I am in agreement about me), I am in better shape than 90% of any other widows. He left us in good shape financially and that enables me to face the rest of life, even if it is without him. I don't know what shape I would be in if that were not the case. I don't even like to think about it. He left us the greatest gift he could by being smart with financial planning, and for that I am repeating "thank you, thank you so much" in my head at all times.
I am so grateful for my family. My precious girls have stepped up and shown themselves to be determined to do well in school and help out when necessary by working also. My Mom and Dad are there whenever I need them, as are my sisters. Scott's family is still my own - they check on me and let me know I still belong with them. I am grateful for my "family of friends" (sorry, Peter Frampton, I had to borrow that!), the ones that make sure I get out and do things and don't become a hermit, and the ones that take the time at work to stop, talk a minute, be there at special events - I am surrounded by wonderful, smart, kind people.
I am grateful for my job. Even though I get ready every morning in an empty house, and make sure I turn off everything before I leave, because nobody else is there, within an hour or so I'm in a noisy, boisterous, mostly happy crowd of children. They are funny, they are smart, they are like sponges when I find the right presentation of my subject (or any other item up for discussion!) You know how you tear your cuticle, or get a paper cut on your fingertip? And then when you put a Band-Aid on there kind of tight, it doesn't hurt as much? That's how I feel during the school day. I feel as if there's a tight Band-Aid around the pain and it simmers down and lets me teach and enjoy my little darlings.
At home, the Band-Aid feeling kind of disappears, but there are four lovely creatures that do their best to
So, you see, I am extremely thankful. I love the fact that America has a Thanksgiving Day, but even more, I love people that keep thankfulness in their hearts all year 'round. Thank you notes, Facebook messages and statuses, e-mails, phone calls, cards.......I'm not perfect, by any means, but I try. My friends do, too. You, my friends, are welcome to show the social media world the 30 things you are thankful for each day this month - I enjoy reading them! But I know you better than that. I know that you are grateful for life and its blessings year-round. As am I.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Have-tos and Shoulds 11/2/13
What a week! I knew I was a little behind on sleep/chores/TV due to my manic birthday weekend. I didn't expect the compilation of all the tiredness/busy-ness/catching up to kick my butt all the way to Friday. But so it did. There is so much that I should be doing! I sit now, typing, waiting for cold medicine to unclog at least one nostril so I can try to take a little nap. How did I get to this point? I don't really want to ever be dependent on anything - especially to unclog any part of me!! Let's see if I can re-trace my steps and find what little misstep led me here.
Last Friday, 10/25: Got the flu shot. Generally a good idea. A little sore arm later in the day, but mentally anticipating wonderful health all winter while everyone else shivers, coughs, and sneezes. Perhaps it is to blame for this malady I am suffering a week later? It wouldn't be the first time that my superior attitude has made me pay a hefty price. Who knows?
Last weekend: Can't be to blame, tiring but wonderful. I did spend each weekend day in very public places, perhaps being exposed to new germs, even though I am an extremely careful hand-washer. For the most part, though, a wonderful weekend.
Monday: Ah, school. Nothing like a day at school to turn on the auto-pilot. Get up, get dressed, put on makeup, drink coffee.....I've taught meter a thousand times, and beat vs. rhythm even more. I was so determined to not let the busy weekend affect me (like an old person...) that I went straight for my walk after work, then went to the grocery store. I came home, had dinner and caught up on two sitcoms before watching 'Dancing With the Stars'. Ok, kind of an old person anyway, but a decent day. I always play Candy Crush while watching 'Dancing'. Near the end of the show, my phone just turned off. Never to come back on. Instead of heading to bed to beat the 11:00 hour, I was on the phone with Verizon, who had me try some phone gymnastics, none of which did anything. At that point, they said they would send another phone overnight, but it wouldn't ship until Tuesday, so I wouldn't get it until Wednesday. I convinced myself I could survive and went to sleep.
Tuesday: It feels weird to spend a day without a cell phone. I notified those closest, and survived it, but it feels weird. I felt a little sad all day, not being able to peek at social media and see what all my friends were up to! I also found out that I had done something in the wrong order at work, which would reflect on someone else. Of all the "things" that happen in adult life, I get most depressed if something I do gets someone else in trouble. Evidently, in the district, before you order t-shirts for a group, you are supposed to request a purchase order and guess how many will be ordered. If you wait until the actual number of orders, money and invoice have come in, you've done it wrong. Go figure. (It did make me feel a little better that an administrator had made the same mistake..) I felt down, sad, tired, and went home with every intention of taking poor Cuddles (also known as thyroid-cat) to the new vet. I sat down. I got sadder and more tired. I called my mom and cried. I felt the weight of all the 'shoulds' in my life, and the fact that only I'm left to do them. I didn't take Cuddles on Tuesday. I put in for a half-day sick day on Wednesday to take care of that and get some rest, or do some "shoulds".
Wednesday: Early morning choir! Yes, an extra rehearsal for my babies, to help memory for Saturday's performance. I just torture myself, don't I? Gladly taught the morning through, knowing I could leave at noon. Nobody had picked up the substitute job, though. That is not my fault or my responsibility. I followed the correct procedure for entering an absence. Somehow, though, we are made to feel guilty that somebody will have to cover if we're out. Guess what? I stopped feeling guilty about that last May. I am allotted a certain number of sick and personal days, and it's no body's business when I take them and what I do with them. The district (or better yet, the bosses) can get over it. One friend this week told me that one of the bosses actually asked her if she really needed to go to the doctor, and asked what she was going for! Pretty sure that's illegal......I actually hope they ask me that sometime! That friend has accumulated over fifty days, by the way. Anyway, as I taught through the morning, I felt sniffles, a sore throat and a headache. Whatever sickness karma there is was telling me if I was going home at noon, by golly, I was going to be sick! I managed to take Cuddles to the vet, first of many visits to solve many problems, then went home and rested. Got the new phone. It didn't work. Called Verizon, they sent another. Holy cow! Felt worse. Couldn't breathe, didn't walk, tried to go to bed early, another choir rehearsal awaited in the morning!
Thursday: Halloween!! Super Duper Rain!! Sure enough, very rainy, flooded streets, the 25 minute drive took 45 minutes, sniffy nose, worried about choir, t-shirts, many other things. But children? They don't care about any of that if it's Halloween! They only know that candy is in their future! I have this to say to all of those who nay-say Halloween based on any origin involving evil........for the past fifty years, it has been about nothing but merchandising. Costume and candy sales with the easiest target consumer in the world - the kid. Kids don't care who you worship as long as they get some Skittles. Just have fun! (In saying that, attending some of the church -sponsored 'trunk or treats' have been our most fun years!) So school was busy, because the kids have to be distracted from the fact that it's Halloween!! The t-shirts arrived, all work was completed, move on to the evening. I was a zombie. No, I didn't dress up. I just couldn't breathe or taste, so I sat back and let everybody else celebrate, eat, trick-or-treat. I set up the second new phone. I answered the door. I hope I didn't pass out too many germs with the candy!
Friday was an exhaustion day. In preparation for Saturday's concert, t-shirts were passed out, music and sound equipment packed up, last minute e-mails answered and sent, and all by sore, tired, can't-breathe me. I went home, and prepared for a nap. Unfortunately, I have to be able to breathe through my nose a bit in order to sleep. I will let you know what worked and how this ends. I got so tired typing all of this that I thought "No wonder I got sick - just think how tiring it is actually doing all that!" And that, my friends, is dedicated to every teacher everywhere. Just do the "have-tos" and maybe you'll have a little left for the "shoulds". If you don't, there's always the weekend.
Last Friday, 10/25: Got the flu shot. Generally a good idea. A little sore arm later in the day, but mentally anticipating wonderful health all winter while everyone else shivers, coughs, and sneezes. Perhaps it is to blame for this malady I am suffering a week later? It wouldn't be the first time that my superior attitude has made me pay a hefty price. Who knows?
Last weekend: Can't be to blame, tiring but wonderful. I did spend each weekend day in very public places, perhaps being exposed to new germs, even though I am an extremely careful hand-washer. For the most part, though, a wonderful weekend.
Monday: Ah, school. Nothing like a day at school to turn on the auto-pilot. Get up, get dressed, put on makeup, drink coffee.....I've taught meter a thousand times, and beat vs. rhythm even more. I was so determined to not let the busy weekend affect me (like an old person...) that I went straight for my walk after work, then went to the grocery store. I came home, had dinner and caught up on two sitcoms before watching 'Dancing With the Stars'. Ok, kind of an old person anyway, but a decent day. I always play Candy Crush while watching 'Dancing'. Near the end of the show, my phone just turned off. Never to come back on. Instead of heading to bed to beat the 11:00 hour, I was on the phone with Verizon, who had me try some phone gymnastics, none of which did anything. At that point, they said they would send another phone overnight, but it wouldn't ship until Tuesday, so I wouldn't get it until Wednesday. I convinced myself I could survive and went to sleep.
Tuesday: It feels weird to spend a day without a cell phone. I notified those closest, and survived it, but it feels weird. I felt a little sad all day, not being able to peek at social media and see what all my friends were up to! I also found out that I had done something in the wrong order at work, which would reflect on someone else. Of all the "things" that happen in adult life, I get most depressed if something I do gets someone else in trouble. Evidently, in the district, before you order t-shirts for a group, you are supposed to request a purchase order and guess how many will be ordered. If you wait until the actual number of orders, money and invoice have come in, you've done it wrong. Go figure. (It did make me feel a little better that an administrator had made the same mistake..) I felt down, sad, tired, and went home with every intention of taking poor Cuddles (also known as thyroid-cat) to the new vet. I sat down. I got sadder and more tired. I called my mom and cried. I felt the weight of all the 'shoulds' in my life, and the fact that only I'm left to do them. I didn't take Cuddles on Tuesday. I put in for a half-day sick day on Wednesday to take care of that and get some rest, or do some "shoulds".
Wednesday: Early morning choir! Yes, an extra rehearsal for my babies, to help memory for Saturday's performance. I just torture myself, don't I? Gladly taught the morning through, knowing I could leave at noon. Nobody had picked up the substitute job, though. That is not my fault or my responsibility. I followed the correct procedure for entering an absence. Somehow, though, we are made to feel guilty that somebody will have to cover if we're out. Guess what? I stopped feeling guilty about that last May. I am allotted a certain number of sick and personal days, and it's no body's business when I take them and what I do with them. The district (or better yet, the bosses) can get over it. One friend this week told me that one of the bosses actually asked her if she really needed to go to the doctor, and asked what she was going for! Pretty sure that's illegal......I actually hope they ask me that sometime! That friend has accumulated over fifty days, by the way. Anyway, as I taught through the morning, I felt sniffles, a sore throat and a headache. Whatever sickness karma there is was telling me if I was going home at noon, by golly, I was going to be sick! I managed to take Cuddles to the vet, first of many visits to solve many problems, then went home and rested. Got the new phone. It didn't work. Called Verizon, they sent another. Holy cow! Felt worse. Couldn't breathe, didn't walk, tried to go to bed early, another choir rehearsal awaited in the morning!
Thursday: Halloween!! Super Duper Rain!! Sure enough, very rainy, flooded streets, the 25 minute drive took 45 minutes, sniffy nose, worried about choir, t-shirts, many other things. But children? They don't care about any of that if it's Halloween! They only know that candy is in their future! I have this to say to all of those who nay-say Halloween based on any origin involving evil........for the past fifty years, it has been about nothing but merchandising. Costume and candy sales with the easiest target consumer in the world - the kid. Kids don't care who you worship as long as they get some Skittles. Just have fun! (In saying that, attending some of the church -sponsored 'trunk or treats' have been our most fun years!) So school was busy, because the kids have to be distracted from the fact that it's Halloween!! The t-shirts arrived, all work was completed, move on to the evening. I was a zombie. No, I didn't dress up. I just couldn't breathe or taste, so I sat back and let everybody else celebrate, eat, trick-or-treat. I set up the second new phone. I answered the door. I hope I didn't pass out too many germs with the candy!
Friday was an exhaustion day. In preparation for Saturday's concert, t-shirts were passed out, music and sound equipment packed up, last minute e-mails answered and sent, and all by sore, tired, can't-breathe me. I went home, and prepared for a nap. Unfortunately, I have to be able to breathe through my nose a bit in order to sleep. I will let you know what worked and how this ends. I got so tired typing all of this that I thought "No wonder I got sick - just think how tiring it is actually doing all that!" And that, my friends, is dedicated to every teacher everywhere. Just do the "have-tos" and maybe you'll have a little left for the "shoulds". If you don't, there's always the weekend.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Way To Go, Audience Guy. 10/29/13
I had a wonderful birthday and a great weekend of fun to celebrate. It is humbling how many people took time to look out for me and make sure that it was a special day. I said on the social media page that the love and care created a bubble that insulated me from too much sorrow. It was true, what I said. Until the weekend, and the one thing I saw.
We attended the Texas Renaissance Festival, sort of a tradition for the past five years or so, and had several adults and two little ones. Wearing costumes and makeup has always been an escape of mine. I can paint and dress how I want to feel and usually, the feeling follows. If I share a song or two in the meantime, don't be surprised. I can always conjure up an imaginary audience to applaud my effort. Kind of spooky, right? Like I'm a modern-day Norma Desmond! Anyway, it was fun to dress up and go be amongst others that enjoy the same sort of thing. With that many adults, a few of us were able to sneak away and see the "not for kids" show. Entitled "Sound and Fury", they use Shakespeare as a framework for double entendre and some downright naughty comedy. The show was enjoyable, albeit a little lengthy. But it was what happened as it started that threw my day of make-believe for a loop.
The actors started out by explaining that they perform some improv with audience members. They then searched for a guy and a girl to go on stage. One of the actors would start some dialogue, stop abruptly in the middle and touch the guy or girl's shoulder to finish the phrase. I am doing my best to recall the sentiment from this past weekend, if not the precise words: Actor "I have found that I cannot live without....." (touches guy's shoulder) Audience guy turns to audience girl and says "You". Entire audience "awwwwwww". Actor "And so, this being the situation, I have found that I need to say......."(touches guy's shoulder). Audience guy turns to audience girl, kneels, opens a ring box and says "I can't live without you, I love you very much, will you marry me?" Audience is on feet, cheering.
I cheered - for a moment until the brick hit me. Love is out there, all around. But mine is gone. I managed to hold back actual sobbing and just leak a few tears, raise my glass and whisper "I wish you more years than we had." I do not wish to deny anybody of their joy and happiness. Joy and happiness are the balancing weight to sorrow and despair. Although I am sad and feel often alone, I wish the very best for those that are at the opposite end of the road. Well done, audience guy. I hope the two of you have many years, much love and don't have to say goodbye too soon.
We attended the Texas Renaissance Festival, sort of a tradition for the past five years or so, and had several adults and two little ones. Wearing costumes and makeup has always been an escape of mine. I can paint and dress how I want to feel and usually, the feeling follows. If I share a song or two in the meantime, don't be surprised. I can always conjure up an imaginary audience to applaud my effort. Kind of spooky, right? Like I'm a modern-day Norma Desmond! Anyway, it was fun to dress up and go be amongst others that enjoy the same sort of thing. With that many adults, a few of us were able to sneak away and see the "not for kids" show. Entitled "Sound and Fury", they use Shakespeare as a framework for double entendre and some downright naughty comedy. The show was enjoyable, albeit a little lengthy. But it was what happened as it started that threw my day of make-believe for a loop.
The actors started out by explaining that they perform some improv with audience members. They then searched for a guy and a girl to go on stage. One of the actors would start some dialogue, stop abruptly in the middle and touch the guy or girl's shoulder to finish the phrase. I am doing my best to recall the sentiment from this past weekend, if not the precise words: Actor "I have found that I cannot live without....." (touches guy's shoulder) Audience guy turns to audience girl and says "You". Entire audience "awwwwwww". Actor "And so, this being the situation, I have found that I need to say......."(touches guy's shoulder). Audience guy turns to audience girl, kneels, opens a ring box and says "I can't live without you, I love you very much, will you marry me?" Audience is on feet, cheering.
I cheered - for a moment until the brick hit me. Love is out there, all around. But mine is gone. I managed to hold back actual sobbing and just leak a few tears, raise my glass and whisper "I wish you more years than we had." I do not wish to deny anybody of their joy and happiness. Joy and happiness are the balancing weight to sorrow and despair. Although I am sad and feel often alone, I wish the very best for those that are at the opposite end of the road. Well done, audience guy. I hope the two of you have many years, much love and don't have to say goodbye too soon.
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