At least I think it's called a meme. I'm so lost at all this it's pathetic.
Well, even though Bee has written all about cruising the high seas, I've gotta admit that's what I think of first when I hear the word "cruise." Other thoughts are cruising for a hot date, drugs, and Tom.
But the "cruise" I like best by far is the kind that takes you out on the water! I don't know how to do photos yet, so I'll just have to describe what I like about cruises.
I ADORE the anticipation of an upcoming cruise! I get a cruise brochure and study it like I was going to take an exam. Except that's it's fun (for me). I study the floor plan until I have it just about memorized. I look to see where our cabin is and what's around us; what's overhead, what's below; how many decks down to the casino, etc. By the time I actually set foot on the ship, I know my way around pretty much. While I'm looking at this flat piece of paper with decks plans on it, I'm visualizing how it's actually going to look and feel. I imagine myself out on the balcony of our cabin having a morning cup of coffee and looking over the waves. Without a care in the world. No place I have to go; nothing I have to do. No phones, no agenda. My biggest decision is where to have our (second) breakfast. (The "starter" breakfast having already been delivered to our stateroom!)
I love buying new play clothes for the cruise, and this year we'll have to because we've both gotten TOO FAT to use our older play clothes! Well, we may be fat on our cruise, but we'll be dressed nicely. (Maybe we'll think about the wisdom of having that "first" breakfast and just stick to coffee and juice as a wake-up). Or not.
I get on the CruiseCritic boards and read every little thing fellow cruisers say about our particular ship or cruising in general. Sometimes we get a roll call going and I get to talk to different folks that are going to be traveling on the same cruise. That's fun and heightens the anticipation. Of course, I have a countdown clock to tell me exactly how many days, hours and minutes I have to the upcoming cruise. . .
Did I tell you about the packing lists I start a couple of months ahead. Actually, I haven't started one yet for our cruise in March, which is really unlike me. I guess this past year has subdued some of my enthusiasm.
The most magic moment for me - well, ok, there's a couple of "most magic" moments for me on a cruise - is when you finally get through all the paperwork, get your photo taken, wait in line, THEN THAT FANTASTIC MOMENT WHEN YOUR FOOT ACTUALLY STEPS ABOARD YOUR SHIP!!! My breath catches every time that happens. I'm FINALLY on the ship, about to head out to sea! Wow. Another magic moment is first setting eyes on your stateroom. Better yet is the moment when you realize the ship is moving and you're underway!
I love the water. It feels like I'm in paradise when I sit on a lounge chair on one of the upper decks gazing at the stars, hearing the waves hitting the sides of the ship, smelling the sea air, and having a beverage on hand and knowing that all this AND we've actually traveling someplace!! That's a whoo-hoo to me. It's romantic. Plain ole romantic to the max.
Flying used to be romantic and magical to me. Back when you were treated as a special guest, instead of being hearded like cattle. Cruising remains romantic and magical. Maybe if I cruised 10 times a year it might lose some of it's awesomeness, but even then I doubt it (and since I don't have the bucks to do that, I prolly am safe from finding out if it gets boring!)
Cruising to me is like the ultimate "ohmmmmm" of the soul. I'm with Bee all the way on this subject. Thanks for bringing it up, Mo!
Monday, January 29, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Retreat
I've been putting off writing about my experience at the last Spiritual Retreat I went to the weekend of the 18th. It's not a religious retreat, but a 12-step recovery one. I've been going to it ever since it's inception 18 years ago. It's funny, though, how the years I've come close to not going have turned out to be the ones that I needed the most. Go figure. This year was one of those times. If it hadn't been for my friends from out of town who were also going, I might not have gone. Dumb me. After 20 years of sobriety, I still have self-destructive instincts.
We stay in fairly rustic type cabins. Each one is CBS; I think sometime along the line they finally put something over the bare cinder blocks (though not in the bathrooms). The cabins are divided in half, with 10 beds each side and a bathroom on each side. Bunk beds. 5 per side of the cabin. Can you see 10 women sharing one bathroom for a long weekend? It should be total chaos, but believe it or not it's never really been a problem in all the years I've been going. Weird.
Anyway, I had to work Thursday, so got there that night and my wife and friends had registered me and grabbed a bunk for me, so I was all taken care of. There are a lot of people I only see at the retreat, and spent some time saying hello to them. I'm like one of Pavlov's dogs; just getting to the retreat grounds makes my mind and body relax to a great extent. Still, I felt off and not quite "there."
We have "cabin meetings" at retreat where the whole 20 people in the cabin hold a recovery meeting for 2 hours. Many times it's longer than that. In the evening meeting on Thursday, I started to get an inkling of what I was really feeling. At the cabin meeting, I was finally able to acknowledge it. I was (am) angry. No, I mean ANGRY!! ENRAGED!! FURIOUS!!! I think I've been angry, enraged and furious for a long time. I thought I was sad and depressed. And I suppose I am those things, too. Why, I wonder, has it taken me so long to realize (and accept) that I'm over the top MAD?!
What I found out about what was going on inside me was that: I'M FUCKING FURIOUS THAT MY FUCKING MOTHER ABANDONED ME!! SHE LEFT ME!! ALONE. HERE TO DEAL WITH EVERYTHING . . . HER HOUSE THAT SHE LET MR. ADDICT ALL BUT DESTROY AND I HAD TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO GET HIM OUT OF THE HOUSE AND GET THE HOUSE CLEANED UP AND GET IT READY TO SELL. HER CLOTHES AND BELOVED THINGS THAT BROKE MY GODDAMN HEART TO HAVE TO SORT THROUGH AND DECIDE WHAT TO KEEP, WHAT TO GIVE TO MY SISTER, WHAT TO SAVE FOR MY FUCKING BROTHER MR. ADDICT. ALL THE WHILE MY HEART'S BEING RIPPED OUT OF MY CHEST BECAUSE MY MOTHER LEFT ME!! SHE COULD HAVE STAYED, I JUST KNOW SHE COULD HAVE, BUT SHE DIDN'T. SHE PROBABLY THOUGHT I'D BE FINE, BECAUSE TO HER I WAS ALWAYS THE STRONG ONE WHO COULD HANDLE ANYTHING. BUT I CAN'T HANDLE EVERYTHING. Didn't she know that I only handled everything for her?? I'm mad because she's gone. I'm mad because I got stuck with all the leftover crap. I don't even really KNOW WHY I'm so goddamn mad. I've been so angry at God. Now, THAT I WAS aware of. Who better to be angry with? And underneath and through it all, I'm angry with myself for not saving her. I could have, should have done something different. SOMETHING. Something so that it would come out different and she wouldn't be dead.
It felt better to admit that I was that mad at life. No one condemned me. I think a few actually understood. Maybe more than a few. All I saw was love and acceptance in that circle. And I was going to deny myself this healing. Geez.
We have a campfire meeting every night, but a special one on Saturday night. It's called a "letting go" ceremony. Every person finds a pine cone. Into that pine cone they put anything, everything they want to let go of/leave behind/change. Then they step forward at the bonfire and tell the group what that pine cone represents; what they're getting rid of. Then they throw it into the fire and let the flames take it. This year I told those at the campfire that I wasn't ready to let go of my mother, or even my grief for my mother. Not yet. I told them that maybe I SHOULD throw my resentment for Mr. Addict in the fire, but I wasn't ready to let go of that yet, either. Maybe next year. But I knew one thing that I needed to let go of and was ready to let go of, and that was my desire to leave this world. I told them that I was throwing away my thoughts of suicide and letting go of my desire to check out. Those thoughts would not be entertained (or "romanced" as my wife says) by me anymore. I got loving hugs from several people, then I took my chair by the fire to watch and listen to the others as they made commitments to leave various troubles behind.
An old friend - more of an acquaintance, really; someone who's been around the rooms of recovery about as long as I have - stepped up to the fire with a giant pine cone in his hand. He shared about the size of it representing some things he wanted to let go of. I wasn't paying real close attention until I heard him say, "but I'm not throwing it in the fire, I'm giving it to Rose to bring back with her next year." So saying, he stepped over to me and whispered that he expected me to take good care of that pine cone and bring it back next year so I could let go of the things I wasn't ready to leave behind this year. He made me promise. Twice.
I was dumb with shock. It took me a little while to understand that it wasn't just about him wanting me to let go of my Mom and Mr. Addict. In fact, it might not have been about that at all. He was trying to make sure that I would be around to come back next year. Wow. We really don't know the effect we have on other people. I like to think, when I'm buried in my self-pity, wanting to die, that it wouldn't affect that many people. That's the addict part of me who wants what I want and doesn't want to fully realize the impact my actions might have on other people. How selfish and self-centered.
I feel humbled by their caring. I felt safe in their love and acceptance. That was all waiting for me, but I'd cut myself away from most of it. If I believed I wasn't important and nobody cared, I could wallow in my misery with no thought of anyone else. And, ok, maybe I needed to wallow awhile. But after Spiritual Retreat, I can't lie to myself anymore.
I put the pine cone up on the bookshelf where I'd see it constantly. God willing, I'll be there next year. It's a reminder that if I feel cut off (from the fellowship; from God) it's that I'VE cut the communication lines. Me; nobody else.
I'm glad God saves me from myself sometimes.
We stay in fairly rustic type cabins. Each one is CBS; I think sometime along the line they finally put something over the bare cinder blocks (though not in the bathrooms). The cabins are divided in half, with 10 beds each side and a bathroom on each side. Bunk beds. 5 per side of the cabin. Can you see 10 women sharing one bathroom for a long weekend? It should be total chaos, but believe it or not it's never really been a problem in all the years I've been going. Weird.
Anyway, I had to work Thursday, so got there that night and my wife and friends had registered me and grabbed a bunk for me, so I was all taken care of. There are a lot of people I only see at the retreat, and spent some time saying hello to them. I'm like one of Pavlov's dogs; just getting to the retreat grounds makes my mind and body relax to a great extent. Still, I felt off and not quite "there."
We have "cabin meetings" at retreat where the whole 20 people in the cabin hold a recovery meeting for 2 hours. Many times it's longer than that. In the evening meeting on Thursday, I started to get an inkling of what I was really feeling. At the cabin meeting, I was finally able to acknowledge it. I was (am) angry. No, I mean ANGRY!! ENRAGED!! FURIOUS!!! I think I've been angry, enraged and furious for a long time. I thought I was sad and depressed. And I suppose I am those things, too. Why, I wonder, has it taken me so long to realize (and accept) that I'm over the top MAD?!
What I found out about what was going on inside me was that: I'M FUCKING FURIOUS THAT MY FUCKING MOTHER ABANDONED ME!! SHE LEFT ME!! ALONE. HERE TO DEAL WITH EVERYTHING . . . HER HOUSE THAT SHE LET MR. ADDICT ALL BUT DESTROY AND I HAD TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO GET HIM OUT OF THE HOUSE AND GET THE HOUSE CLEANED UP AND GET IT READY TO SELL. HER CLOTHES AND BELOVED THINGS THAT BROKE MY GODDAMN HEART TO HAVE TO SORT THROUGH AND DECIDE WHAT TO KEEP, WHAT TO GIVE TO MY SISTER, WHAT TO SAVE FOR MY FUCKING BROTHER MR. ADDICT. ALL THE WHILE MY HEART'S BEING RIPPED OUT OF MY CHEST BECAUSE MY MOTHER LEFT ME!! SHE COULD HAVE STAYED, I JUST KNOW SHE COULD HAVE, BUT SHE DIDN'T. SHE PROBABLY THOUGHT I'D BE FINE, BECAUSE TO HER I WAS ALWAYS THE STRONG ONE WHO COULD HANDLE ANYTHING. BUT I CAN'T HANDLE EVERYTHING. Didn't she know that I only handled everything for her?? I'm mad because she's gone. I'm mad because I got stuck with all the leftover crap. I don't even really KNOW WHY I'm so goddamn mad. I've been so angry at God. Now, THAT I WAS aware of. Who better to be angry with? And underneath and through it all, I'm angry with myself for not saving her. I could have, should have done something different. SOMETHING. Something so that it would come out different and she wouldn't be dead.
It felt better to admit that I was that mad at life. No one condemned me. I think a few actually understood. Maybe more than a few. All I saw was love and acceptance in that circle. And I was going to deny myself this healing. Geez.
We have a campfire meeting every night, but a special one on Saturday night. It's called a "letting go" ceremony. Every person finds a pine cone. Into that pine cone they put anything, everything they want to let go of/leave behind/change. Then they step forward at the bonfire and tell the group what that pine cone represents; what they're getting rid of. Then they throw it into the fire and let the flames take it. This year I told those at the campfire that I wasn't ready to let go of my mother, or even my grief for my mother. Not yet. I told them that maybe I SHOULD throw my resentment for Mr. Addict in the fire, but I wasn't ready to let go of that yet, either. Maybe next year. But I knew one thing that I needed to let go of and was ready to let go of, and that was my desire to leave this world. I told them that I was throwing away my thoughts of suicide and letting go of my desire to check out. Those thoughts would not be entertained (or "romanced" as my wife says) by me anymore. I got loving hugs from several people, then I took my chair by the fire to watch and listen to the others as they made commitments to leave various troubles behind.
An old friend - more of an acquaintance, really; someone who's been around the rooms of recovery about as long as I have - stepped up to the fire with a giant pine cone in his hand. He shared about the size of it representing some things he wanted to let go of. I wasn't paying real close attention until I heard him say, "but I'm not throwing it in the fire, I'm giving it to Rose to bring back with her next year." So saying, he stepped over to me and whispered that he expected me to take good care of that pine cone and bring it back next year so I could let go of the things I wasn't ready to leave behind this year. He made me promise. Twice.
I was dumb with shock. It took me a little while to understand that it wasn't just about him wanting me to let go of my Mom and Mr. Addict. In fact, it might not have been about that at all. He was trying to make sure that I would be around to come back next year. Wow. We really don't know the effect we have on other people. I like to think, when I'm buried in my self-pity, wanting to die, that it wouldn't affect that many people. That's the addict part of me who wants what I want and doesn't want to fully realize the impact my actions might have on other people. How selfish and self-centered.
I feel humbled by their caring. I felt safe in their love and acceptance. That was all waiting for me, but I'd cut myself away from most of it. If I believed I wasn't important and nobody cared, I could wallow in my misery with no thought of anyone else. And, ok, maybe I needed to wallow awhile. But after Spiritual Retreat, I can't lie to myself anymore.
I put the pine cone up on the bookshelf where I'd see it constantly. God willing, I'll be there next year. It's a reminder that if I feel cut off (from the fellowship; from God) it's that I'VE cut the communication lines. Me; nobody else.
I'm glad God saves me from myself sometimes.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Tagged.
Didn't even KNOW about tagged!
1. If you could build a house anywhere, where would it be? On the water in Victoria, BC
2. What’s your favorite article of clothing? NAKED!
3. Favorite physical feature of the opposite sex? Hands; smile . . .
4. What’s the last CD that you bought? Hmmm, can't remember. It's that old age setting in.5. Where’s your favorite place to be? At the beach with my honey.
6. Where is your least favorite place to be? At the dentist! ARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!
7. What’s your favorite place to be massaged? Uh, is this a trick question??!
6. Where is your least favorite place to be? At the dentist! ARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!
7. What’s your favorite place to be massaged? Uh, is this a trick question??!
8. Strong in mind or strong in body? My honey says my body doesn't smell strong . . .
9. What time do you wake up in the morning? As late as I can get away with!
10. What is your favorite kitchen appliance? Tea kettle
11. What makes you really angry? Dumb-ass people!
12. If you could play any instrument, what would it be? My IPOD
13. Favorite colour? (See you can tell I got tagged by a Brit, note the “u” in color!) RED!
9. What time do you wake up in the morning? As late as I can get away with!
10. What is your favorite kitchen appliance? Tea kettle
11. What makes you really angry? Dumb-ass people!
12. If you could play any instrument, what would it be? My IPOD
13. Favorite colour? (See you can tell I got tagged by a Brit, note the “u” in color!) RED!
14. Which do you prefer…sports car or SUV? My RED Miata
15. Do you believe in an afterlife? Absolutely. It's a requirement after 50 . . .
16. Favorite children’s book? Laura Ingalls Wilder series (Little House, etc.)
16. Favorite children’s book? Laura Ingalls Wilder series (Little House, etc.)
17. What is your favorite season? Spring, sprong, sprung
18. Your least favorite household chore? ALL OF THEM. That's why God invented maids!
19. If you could have one super power, what would it be? To fly! (It's a bird, it's a plane; no, it's SUPERWOMAN!!)
20. If you have a tattoo, what is it? It's a flutterby. Nevermind where.
21. Can you juggle? Oh, yeah, sure. I fly too. See question 19.
18. Your least favorite household chore? ALL OF THEM. That's why God invented maids!
19. If you could have one super power, what would it be? To fly! (It's a bird, it's a plane; no, it's SUPERWOMAN!!)
20. If you have a tattoo, what is it? It's a flutterby. Nevermind where.
21. Can you juggle? Oh, yeah, sure. I fly too. See question 19.
22. The one person from your past that you wish you could go back and talk to? I'm too old. There's too many. Can't choose just one.
23. What’s your favorite day? Friday.
24. What’s in the trunk of your car? Enough space for perhaps a pregnant flea. Maybe.
25. Which do you prefer, sushi or hamburger? Raw is for VEGETABLES! Burger, please.
Now, I've got to tag somebody. Hmmmmmm. Let's go get Sarge. sargecharlie.blogspot.com/
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Long weekends
It's Sunday evening and I've got tomorrow off and, boy, I just love that. Not that I don't like my job, cuz I do. But I like play time the best. Friday we had our friends to dinner and cards. First time we've had "guests" to our new home since we moved in in October. Funny how that made it feel so much more like a real home to me. We had a blast. Yesterday was lazy, lazy, lazy. My stomach wasn't feeling too well (again) and that's getting so old. I guess I'm going to have to see my doctor about it, since it doesn't seem to want to go away. Ugh.
Today we went to a renewal of vows of a co-worker I like. I'd RSVP'd a long time ago, so couldn't change things to join my Red Hat group to celebrate winning first prize in the parade. I'm looking at Empress Bee's photos and feeling just a little left out. But the wedding/renewal was nice.
I'm more balanced out today, after the sad/angry feelings with the house and Mr. Addict. I'd like to be able to hang onto this serenity easier; want to get ALL BETTER RIGHT NOW. But I'm learning to appreciate the good days; I'm learning to recognize the signs of healing.
My kitties help with that a lot. Our three furry friends are a delight to DC and me. They are so loving and cute and soft and love-us-no-matter-what. Their antics and individual personalities endlessly entertain me. Pets really are good for you. I wish I knew how to post photos, cuz I'd bore you with photos of my babies. Ha ha!
Our friends from Friday night help with the healing too. A few months ago I wouldn't have had the energy or willingness to entertain. Depression will do that to you. Thank God it's better now. Wore my Mom's dress today to the wedding and her beautiful deep red shoes. Got compliments on the outfit. She was a classy dresser, and it felt good to wear her things. Not painful, just good and right. I'll never get over missing her, but I can welcome the healing from never being able to think of her without scorching pain.
I think she's smiling down at me.
Today we went to a renewal of vows of a co-worker I like. I'd RSVP'd a long time ago, so couldn't change things to join my Red Hat group to celebrate winning first prize in the parade. I'm looking at Empress Bee's photos and feeling just a little left out. But the wedding/renewal was nice.
I'm more balanced out today, after the sad/angry feelings with the house and Mr. Addict. I'd like to be able to hang onto this serenity easier; want to get ALL BETTER RIGHT NOW. But I'm learning to appreciate the good days; I'm learning to recognize the signs of healing.
My kitties help with that a lot. Our three furry friends are a delight to DC and me. They are so loving and cute and soft and love-us-no-matter-what. Their antics and individual personalities endlessly entertain me. Pets really are good for you. I wish I knew how to post photos, cuz I'd bore you with photos of my babies. Ha ha!
Our friends from Friday night help with the healing too. A few months ago I wouldn't have had the energy or willingness to entertain. Depression will do that to you. Thank God it's better now. Wore my Mom's dress today to the wedding and her beautiful deep red shoes. Got compliments on the outfit. She was a classy dresser, and it felt good to wear her things. Not painful, just good and right. I'll never get over missing her, but I can welcome the healing from never being able to think of her without scorching pain.
I think she's smiling down at me.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Hmmmmm
| Your Blog Should Be Purple |
 You're an expressive, offbeat blogger who tends to write about anything and everything. You tend to set blogging trends, and you're the most likely to write your own meme or survey. You are a bit distant though. Your blog is all about you - not what anyone else has to say. |
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Bittersweet
Well, yesterday, I signed a contract for the sale of my mom's house. Hopefully, all will go well, especially since it's a cash deal.
On the way back from the real estate agent, I swung by Ma's place. How am I going to be able to say goodbye to that house? How am I going to be able to let it go? I sat there and looked at it and imagined Mom coming out onto the front porch and waving hello. I remembered when I'd stop by the house to pick up Dad to go to church (Mom went early for bible study) and he'd hobble out. We all sang in choir together: Me a soprano, Mom a strong alto, and Dad bass. I loved singing in the choir. It was something we did together as a family for years.
I remembered my oldest younger brother who died in that house in December 2000 of a heart attack. He was a brittle diabetic, had a serious autoimmune disease, and was an active addict. He was 42. I remembered sitting with Dad and he died in the bedroom. I remembered being at the house that awful Saturday in February 1983 when we got the call that my middle brother was dead; murdered.
I also remembered all the parties, the fun in the back yard that my mother kept so lovely. I remembered the Thanksgivings and how Mom always set the prettiest table. I remember the jasmine that grows in the front yard and how Mom would pull off a sprig for me. I'm drinking jasmine tea right now and it reminds me of her. So many, many memories. Of my children growing up, spending so much time at their grandparents' home. It was always a second home to them. With all the moving around I used to do, it might have seemed like their first home. The most stable home.
How am I going to let my family home go?? I kept hearing the phrase "ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" in my head. They're all gone. I'm alive and so many of my family is gone. I lived this long for this? I remember my Dad saying that when he lost his favorite son to murder. "I lived for this?" We have families just to see them all go?
How am I going to stand saying goodbye? I can't live there myself. Honestly, it's not a house I'd want, but mostly it would make me too sad, too haunted, to live there. So I'm going to have to say goodbye. I pray that some family will love it. I pray someone will love the yard and make it pretty again like Ma did. I hope those walls know love again.
Sometimes I find living just breaks my heart.
On the way back from the real estate agent, I swung by Ma's place. How am I going to be able to say goodbye to that house? How am I going to be able to let it go? I sat there and looked at it and imagined Mom coming out onto the front porch and waving hello. I remembered when I'd stop by the house to pick up Dad to go to church (Mom went early for bible study) and he'd hobble out. We all sang in choir together: Me a soprano, Mom a strong alto, and Dad bass. I loved singing in the choir. It was something we did together as a family for years.
I remembered my oldest younger brother who died in that house in December 2000 of a heart attack. He was a brittle diabetic, had a serious autoimmune disease, and was an active addict. He was 42. I remembered sitting with Dad and he died in the bedroom. I remembered being at the house that awful Saturday in February 1983 when we got the call that my middle brother was dead; murdered.
I also remembered all the parties, the fun in the back yard that my mother kept so lovely. I remembered the Thanksgivings and how Mom always set the prettiest table. I remember the jasmine that grows in the front yard and how Mom would pull off a sprig for me. I'm drinking jasmine tea right now and it reminds me of her. So many, many memories. Of my children growing up, spending so much time at their grandparents' home. It was always a second home to them. With all the moving around I used to do, it might have seemed like their first home. The most stable home.
How am I going to let my family home go?? I kept hearing the phrase "ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" in my head. They're all gone. I'm alive and so many of my family is gone. I lived this long for this? I remember my Dad saying that when he lost his favorite son to murder. "I lived for this?" We have families just to see them all go?
How am I going to stand saying goodbye? I can't live there myself. Honestly, it's not a house I'd want, but mostly it would make me too sad, too haunted, to live there. So I'm going to have to say goodbye. I pray that some family will love it. I pray someone will love the yard and make it pretty again like Ma did. I hope those walls know love again.
Sometimes I find living just breaks my heart.
Monday, January 8, 2007
A mother's delight
So, yesterday I get a call from Darling Daughter (DD). She's in her car trying to find this no kill animal shelter.
"I'm going to look for a dog," she tells me.
"But you're going to have to be out of town for a few weeks soon. Why don't you wait til after you're back?" My DD is in the Army and she travels a lot.
"Oh, I'm not going to GET a dog now. I'm just going to look," she assures me.
"It's a mistake, DD," I warn her, "you'll fall in love."
"No, no. I know it's a bad time to get a dog. I just want to see the place and what they have. I'm not going to get a dog til I get back." She sounded oh-so-sure of herself, as usual.
"DD, you're going to look into a pair of sweet brown eyes and you're going to fall in love. Don't go now, or you're going to wind up bringing a dog home."
I told her about how I had to keep myself from cat rescue places because I couldn't trust myself not to fall in love with an irresistible feline face. How I wanted to take them all, they looked so pitiful in their cages.
But DD rushed to assure me that, "I've gone with my friend a couple of times and didn't find anything I couldn't refuse."
She had to go, then, because the directions she'd been given were faulty. As we hung up, I heard her grumbling about stupid people who couldn't give directions . . .
I heard my cell phone ring a couple of times while I was trying to take a nap (still trying to get over this flu bug). When I got up, I saw that DD had called me twice. That was unusual.
I called her. "What's up? You called me two times."
Silence for a moment, then I heard this embarrassed, almost guilty giggle (dear daughter does NOT usually giggle).
"I got a dog."
After I laughed my ass off and crowed several "I told you so's" she told me all about this sweet mutt who'd been at the shelter a good portion of her two years. She told me how she asked the shelter workers about what dog would be right for her. After she told them what she was looking for (calm natured, gets along well with other dogs and people, fairly large sized), the workers were unanimous in recommending Daisy. So she filled out the application and will probably be picking up Daisy tomorrow. She'll deal with the fact that she's got to go out of town soon. Her Army friends all help each other with pet care when one of them is out of town. Daisy sounded like a dream (in fact, my wife and I think she might be our beloved mutt who died a little over two years ago come back). I'm happy for her. I think Daisy and DD are a love match.
But I had to say it just before I hung up. "OK, DD, I want to hear it. 'You were right, Mom.'"
She just gave this embarrassed little chuckle. It was good enough for me. Mom rules!
"I'm going to look for a dog," she tells me.
"But you're going to have to be out of town for a few weeks soon. Why don't you wait til after you're back?" My DD is in the Army and she travels a lot.
"Oh, I'm not going to GET a dog now. I'm just going to look," she assures me.
"It's a mistake, DD," I warn her, "you'll fall in love."
"No, no. I know it's a bad time to get a dog. I just want to see the place and what they have. I'm not going to get a dog til I get back." She sounded oh-so-sure of herself, as usual.
"DD, you're going to look into a pair of sweet brown eyes and you're going to fall in love. Don't go now, or you're going to wind up bringing a dog home."
I told her about how I had to keep myself from cat rescue places because I couldn't trust myself not to fall in love with an irresistible feline face. How I wanted to take them all, they looked so pitiful in their cages.
But DD rushed to assure me that, "I've gone with my friend a couple of times and didn't find anything I couldn't refuse."
She had to go, then, because the directions she'd been given were faulty. As we hung up, I heard her grumbling about stupid people who couldn't give directions . . .
I heard my cell phone ring a couple of times while I was trying to take a nap (still trying to get over this flu bug). When I got up, I saw that DD had called me twice. That was unusual.
I called her. "What's up? You called me two times."
Silence for a moment, then I heard this embarrassed, almost guilty giggle (dear daughter does NOT usually giggle).
"I got a dog."
After I laughed my ass off and crowed several "I told you so's" she told me all about this sweet mutt who'd been at the shelter a good portion of her two years. She told me how she asked the shelter workers about what dog would be right for her. After she told them what she was looking for (calm natured, gets along well with other dogs and people, fairly large sized), the workers were unanimous in recommending Daisy. So she filled out the application and will probably be picking up Daisy tomorrow. She'll deal with the fact that she's got to go out of town soon. Her Army friends all help each other with pet care when one of them is out of town. Daisy sounded like a dream (in fact, my wife and I think she might be our beloved mutt who died a little over two years ago come back). I'm happy for her. I think Daisy and DD are a love match.
But I had to say it just before I hung up. "OK, DD, I want to hear it. 'You were right, Mom.'"
She just gave this embarrassed little chuckle. It was good enough for me. Mom rules!
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Death Penalty
OK, Charlie, this one's for you.
So, they missed this dude's veins and he got some burn marks before they finally got it right and executed him. Now everybody is in an uproar because "oh, poor murderer might have suffered some pain while we KILLED him!" Come on, people!!! I get so fucking frustrated with the idiocy of the American people sometimes. Or maybe it's just the criminal justice system. If we've going to HAVE a death penalty, can't we have it without all the hypocrisy?! I mean, c'mon, we're executing people as PUNISHMENT. Punishment is supposed to hurt!! We're not putting our beloved pets to sleep as a humane thing when they're ill or in pain; why are we acting like that's what we're supposed to be doing with these criminals???? I don't think anyone could argue that we're executing criminals to REHABILITATE them. So, what's the theory behind it all? What are we trying to accomplish with the death penalty, really? We already know that it doesn't work as a deterrant. It might if we carried it out more swiftly, more surely. But now, any criminal out there knows that he's got a 1,000 to one chance that he'll ever get caught, get convicted, get the death penalty, or have it actually carried out. The threat is waaaayyy too remote. It seems unreal. Of course it's not going to function as a deterrant.
So what's left? Punishment. And, secondarily, to protect the innocent public. If we were honest with ourselves, we'd admit that punishment is a good part of what drives our system. Protecting the public is a reasonable goal, too. Some people can NEVER be trusted to go out into the world again. Like Bundy. Or Dahmer (sp?) Should we keep them alive in prison for the rest of their lives? Maybe that's a worse punishment for them, actually. Especially if you believe that the afterlife is real nice. But what about the poor other folks in the prison - like the less violent inmates, or most importantly, the people who have to work there and guard them? Aren't their lives important? Isn't their safety important? What about the criminals who escape?
Anyway, I get pissed at the jerks who worry about how much PAIN or SUFFERING or how LONG it takes the condemned person to die. Helloo??!!! We're KILLING them. We're killing them as PUNISHMENT for heinous crimes they committed!! It's SUPPOSED to hurt, for Christ's sake. How long, how painful, how terrifying were the deaths of their victims?? If we're killing them, why in HELL are we worried about the murderer's COMFORT while we take them out??!!! C'mon, have you heard of anything more ridiculous in your life???!!!
If we're so conflicted about inflicting the death penalty, then we ought to just do away with it. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing - other countries seem to do ok without it (granted they might not be as naturally violent as we are). But, having the death penalty, then acting like squeamish little buttholes when we enforce it, makes us idiots in my book. If we can't stand by what we say we believe in, maybe it's time we took another look at our beliefs and who we are.
So, they missed this dude's veins and he got some burn marks before they finally got it right and executed him. Now everybody is in an uproar because "oh, poor murderer might have suffered some pain while we KILLED him!" Come on, people!!! I get so fucking frustrated with the idiocy of the American people sometimes. Or maybe it's just the criminal justice system. If we've going to HAVE a death penalty, can't we have it without all the hypocrisy?! I mean, c'mon, we're executing people as PUNISHMENT. Punishment is supposed to hurt!! We're not putting our beloved pets to sleep as a humane thing when they're ill or in pain; why are we acting like that's what we're supposed to be doing with these criminals???? I don't think anyone could argue that we're executing criminals to REHABILITATE them. So, what's the theory behind it all? What are we trying to accomplish with the death penalty, really? We already know that it doesn't work as a deterrant. It might if we carried it out more swiftly, more surely. But now, any criminal out there knows that he's got a 1,000 to one chance that he'll ever get caught, get convicted, get the death penalty, or have it actually carried out. The threat is waaaayyy too remote. It seems unreal. Of course it's not going to function as a deterrant.
So what's left? Punishment. And, secondarily, to protect the innocent public. If we were honest with ourselves, we'd admit that punishment is a good part of what drives our system. Protecting the public is a reasonable goal, too. Some people can NEVER be trusted to go out into the world again. Like Bundy. Or Dahmer (sp?) Should we keep them alive in prison for the rest of their lives? Maybe that's a worse punishment for them, actually. Especially if you believe that the afterlife is real nice. But what about the poor other folks in the prison - like the less violent inmates, or most importantly, the people who have to work there and guard them? Aren't their lives important? Isn't their safety important? What about the criminals who escape?
Anyway, I get pissed at the jerks who worry about how much PAIN or SUFFERING or how LONG it takes the condemned person to die. Helloo??!!! We're KILLING them. We're killing them as PUNISHMENT for heinous crimes they committed!! It's SUPPOSED to hurt, for Christ's sake. How long, how painful, how terrifying were the deaths of their victims?? If we're killing them, why in HELL are we worried about the murderer's COMFORT while we take them out??!!! C'mon, have you heard of anything more ridiculous in your life???!!!
If we're so conflicted about inflicting the death penalty, then we ought to just do away with it. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing - other countries seem to do ok without it (granted they might not be as naturally violent as we are). But, having the death penalty, then acting like squeamish little buttholes when we enforce it, makes us idiots in my book. If we can't stand by what we say we believe in, maybe it's time we took another look at our beliefs and who we are.
Back again
Have had a couple of rough days. Still sick from this flu thing that I'm beginning to think I'll NEVER get over.
I've been thinking about how I've got to approach blogging and decided that I've got to just do it for myself and not with the idea of who - if anyone - is going to read it and how they'll react. I hope no one takes that personal or thinks I don't care about my audience. It's just that I CAN'T write thinking about my audience. Anyway.
Sarge C thinks I ought to talk about the botched execution that led to them stopping executions in Florida. Probably b/c when it happened, I emailed him a rant and rave about it. So I probably will. A little later.
I'm sick of being sick. I want to frolic again. Having an active sex life again would be good, too. This is disgusting!
Friday I had to go to my probate lawyer's office. That sent me into a spin. Every time I have to deal with anything relating to Mom, I've got all these emotions coming up and swamping me. I'm trying to sell her house and, in Florida, the housing market went from stellar to sucky almost overnight. So, it's been sitting there. First I had to deal with the MESS left from my brother-the-active-addict-who-made-my-mother's-last-year-a-living-hell (hereinafter known as "Mr. Addict"). Mom had her heart attack literally trying to clean up the place to get it ready to sell, as she'd finally made the decision to move in with my daughter in North Carolina. That would have been a good move, but it wasn't meant to be. Over a thousand dollars and several full dumpsters later, Mr. Addict's JUNK was cleared away. So much rage and pain. I hate him/love him/understand him/am baffled by him . . . Most of all, I don't trust him. Well, I don't know if the distrust is the dominant feeling I have about him, but it's the most consistent. It distresses me to realize that at my age and experience, I've come across a person that I can think of no scenario where I could fully forgive him.
Anyway, I found myself on Friday evening reliving the last two weeks of Mom's death and the awful aftermath. My wife, DC, tells me to remember the good times - and there are SO MANY good times. But when I get in that downward spiral, there I am again reliving the most painful moments of my life and wondering how in hell I ever got through them in the first place.
Then I think things like "why am I living?" "Why struggle to do what??? Work and eat and sleep and eventually die anyway??" I don't know the answers to why I'm here, but in better moments I have gratitude and hope and things that make me think it'll seem worth it if I just hang on.
My sister is so good to me (hereinafter "Loving Sister"). When I fret about what to do about the house and worry about her dire financial situation and her ill health and wanting to get money to her and wanting to save her and keep her healthy, etc. etc. (yes, I'm the rescuer eldest child), she tells me how she knows I'm doing the best I can, that she'll be all right, and that anything I want to do as far as Mom's stuff is ok by her and not to worry. How cool is that?
Saturday I spent married to the toilet - thank you flu. Today has been mostly the same. I finally feel well enough to sit here at the computer. I've got to reserve strength, as I have very little sick time to take at work.
Anybody want to comment on this depressing crap is more than welcome to do so. It's good to have a forum to just let it all out. I thank you.
I've been thinking about how I've got to approach blogging and decided that I've got to just do it for myself and not with the idea of who - if anyone - is going to read it and how they'll react. I hope no one takes that personal or thinks I don't care about my audience. It's just that I CAN'T write thinking about my audience. Anyway.
Sarge C thinks I ought to talk about the botched execution that led to them stopping executions in Florida. Probably b/c when it happened, I emailed him a rant and rave about it. So I probably will. A little later.
I'm sick of being sick. I want to frolic again. Having an active sex life again would be good, too. This is disgusting!
Friday I had to go to my probate lawyer's office. That sent me into a spin. Every time I have to deal with anything relating to Mom, I've got all these emotions coming up and swamping me. I'm trying to sell her house and, in Florida, the housing market went from stellar to sucky almost overnight. So, it's been sitting there. First I had to deal with the MESS left from my brother-the-active-addict-who-made-my-mother's-last-year-a-living-hell (hereinafter known as "Mr. Addict"). Mom had her heart attack literally trying to clean up the place to get it ready to sell, as she'd finally made the decision to move in with my daughter in North Carolina. That would have been a good move, but it wasn't meant to be. Over a thousand dollars and several full dumpsters later, Mr. Addict's JUNK was cleared away. So much rage and pain. I hate him/love him/understand him/am baffled by him . . . Most of all, I don't trust him. Well, I don't know if the distrust is the dominant feeling I have about him, but it's the most consistent. It distresses me to realize that at my age and experience, I've come across a person that I can think of no scenario where I could fully forgive him.
Anyway, I found myself on Friday evening reliving the last two weeks of Mom's death and the awful aftermath. My wife, DC, tells me to remember the good times - and there are SO MANY good times. But when I get in that downward spiral, there I am again reliving the most painful moments of my life and wondering how in hell I ever got through them in the first place.
Then I think things like "why am I living?" "Why struggle to do what??? Work and eat and sleep and eventually die anyway??" I don't know the answers to why I'm here, but in better moments I have gratitude and hope and things that make me think it'll seem worth it if I just hang on.
My sister is so good to me (hereinafter "Loving Sister"). When I fret about what to do about the house and worry about her dire financial situation and her ill health and wanting to get money to her and wanting to save her and keep her healthy, etc. etc. (yes, I'm the rescuer eldest child), she tells me how she knows I'm doing the best I can, that she'll be all right, and that anything I want to do as far as Mom's stuff is ok by her and not to worry. How cool is that?
Saturday I spent married to the toilet - thank you flu. Today has been mostly the same. I finally feel well enough to sit here at the computer. I've got to reserve strength, as I have very little sick time to take at work.
Anybody want to comment on this depressing crap is more than welcome to do so. It's good to have a forum to just let it all out. I thank you.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
What did I start??!
Well, hell, it looks like I'll have to continue writing now. People are expecting things of me now. Geesh! Didn't think that one through. Takes more time than I'd thought. Don't know how to do the fancy stuff everybody puts on their blogs. And it takes so much time to tinker and try to figure it out myself. Miss Bee tells me to just write and worry about that stuff later.
Yeah, what have I started? I began (was it only yesterday) without an idea of where I was going and next thing I was going on about my Mom. Y'all will probably hear a lot about her. Maybe it's what I've needed to do all along. My grief counselor has been bugging me to journal about it for months. I kept thinking "yeah, yeah" but never got around to it.
I fancy myself a writer, but I've got two books that have sat partially written for I don't want to tell you how long. I don't know what's stopping me. Am I bored? Afraid? I read other stuff and find myself thinking how woefully inadequate I am to think I could EVER write as good as that author!! I don't believe that kind of thinking is helping me.
Yet, I write for a living. So maybe I'm just damn tired of writing by the time I get home for the day? So, what the hell am I doing here? I keep thinking if I figured it out, I could get back in the groove and continue my book efforts. Someone said in their blog it was a way to get themselves to just WRITE every day. Well, I didn't think when I started this that I'd be committing myself to a DAILY thing. Hmmmm. Maybe it is a way to simply get myself to write. I make excuses to myself - "I write most every day." But that's true and insufficient both. It's literally true, BUT it's not the 'open yourself up to the world' kind of creative writing that scares me so. Scares me. Yep. That's really it and I know it. I've heard that just keeping the wheels greased, so to speak, with daily writing helps.
Y'all want to be a part of my therapy?? (Yeah, ranks right up there with root canals!)
Anyway, after a whole DAY of this new experience, I think maybe it'll get me out of myself a little; will help me make new friends in SPITE of my shyness; maybe I'll learn some new stuff; and - did I say maybe I'd make some new friends??? That would be nice. Miss Bee tells me I'll have to get better at patience (as far as getting my blog 'pretty' the way I'd like it) - but she also promised to help me. Sweet Nevins did too, as well as this new person I "met" called Mo. What a nice start for one day!
I'm looking forward to what 2007 will hold, and I can hardly believe I said that. Even a month ago all I could do was dread the day and struggle through it. It feels good to feel hopeful again.
Thanks for stopping by!
Yeah, what have I started? I began (was it only yesterday) without an idea of where I was going and next thing I was going on about my Mom. Y'all will probably hear a lot about her. Maybe it's what I've needed to do all along. My grief counselor has been bugging me to journal about it for months. I kept thinking "yeah, yeah" but never got around to it.
I fancy myself a writer, but I've got two books that have sat partially written for I don't want to tell you how long. I don't know what's stopping me. Am I bored? Afraid? I read other stuff and find myself thinking how woefully inadequate I am to think I could EVER write as good as that author!! I don't believe that kind of thinking is helping me.
Yet, I write for a living. So maybe I'm just damn tired of writing by the time I get home for the day? So, what the hell am I doing here? I keep thinking if I figured it out, I could get back in the groove and continue my book efforts. Someone said in their blog it was a way to get themselves to just WRITE every day. Well, I didn't think when I started this that I'd be committing myself to a DAILY thing. Hmmmm. Maybe it is a way to simply get myself to write. I make excuses to myself - "I write most every day." But that's true and insufficient both. It's literally true, BUT it's not the 'open yourself up to the world' kind of creative writing that scares me so. Scares me. Yep. That's really it and I know it. I've heard that just keeping the wheels greased, so to speak, with daily writing helps.
Y'all want to be a part of my therapy?? (Yeah, ranks right up there with root canals!)
Anyway, after a whole DAY of this new experience, I think maybe it'll get me out of myself a little; will help me make new friends in SPITE of my shyness; maybe I'll learn some new stuff; and - did I say maybe I'd make some new friends??? That would be nice. Miss Bee tells me I'll have to get better at patience (as far as getting my blog 'pretty' the way I'd like it) - but she also promised to help me. Sweet Nevins did too, as well as this new person I "met" called Mo. What a nice start for one day!
I'm looking forward to what 2007 will hold, and I can hardly believe I said that. Even a month ago all I could do was dread the day and struggle through it. It feels good to feel hopeful again.
Thanks for stopping by!
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
First timer
Well, folks, I have no earthly idea of what I'm doing with a blog. My dear friends, Muffin53 and Sarge Charlie, talked me into this. Muffin 53 (Miss Bee) says I'll get the hang of it. Not sure why anyone would want to read it, or why in hell I think I want to "talk" to the world at large. Ego maybe? Our natural inclination to express ourselves? Maybe it's that I just wanna fit in. (Everybody ELSE is blogging!) And here I thought I was such a rebel. Ha!
I'm so glad to see the end of 2006! I lost my beloved mother in May this year. Lost my dad in 1998, so now I'm an orphan. Can you be a middle-aged orphan? I feel like one. Mom was my buddy. We did everything together. Or nothing together. We always found things to talk about. The hole she's left in my life is almost unbearable. The town is the same, her house is still there (still hasn't sold), days come and go, yet it's all so different without her. Irrationally, a few weeks ago, I called her phone number ALMOST convincing myself that she'd answer as always. I've wrestled with terrible clinical depression since she died. Better living through chemistry they say, but I had a real rough ride trying to find what works for me.
Anyway, it's 2007 now and I'm telling myself I can start to pick up and go on and maybe someday it won't hurt so bad. God knows I've got a lot to live for. It's funny how you can completely lose sight of that when depression has you by the tits. Funny weird, not ha-ha. My mom lost three of her sons and her husband and she carried on with so much courage. I've got to try to live the words of a song I had played at her funeral, "May all the courage she put into living, fall like a mantle, and cover my life."
I'm so glad to see the end of 2006! I lost my beloved mother in May this year. Lost my dad in 1998, so now I'm an orphan. Can you be a middle-aged orphan? I feel like one. Mom was my buddy. We did everything together. Or nothing together. We always found things to talk about. The hole she's left in my life is almost unbearable. The town is the same, her house is still there (still hasn't sold), days come and go, yet it's all so different without her. Irrationally, a few weeks ago, I called her phone number ALMOST convincing myself that she'd answer as always. I've wrestled with terrible clinical depression since she died. Better living through chemistry they say, but I had a real rough ride trying to find what works for me.
Anyway, it's 2007 now and I'm telling myself I can start to pick up and go on and maybe someday it won't hurt so bad. God knows I've got a lot to live for. It's funny how you can completely lose sight of that when depression has you by the tits. Funny weird, not ha-ha. My mom lost three of her sons and her husband and she carried on with so much courage. I've got to try to live the words of a song I had played at her funeral, "May all the courage she put into living, fall like a mantle, and cover my life."
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