2016 December 19

"All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means "God is with us")." - Isaiah 7:14 (NLT) 

This was my encouraging word, via email today from K-Love. I actually read it! Often, I do not, in spite of often needing an actual, encouraging word. But, today, as I perused my inbox, the little internal voice said, "Read it." And I did. And I am glad.

Often we are hard on the church and its paternalistic structure and the dismissive attitude toward women. I have often voiced my own displeasure with being treated as "less than" during my 9 year sojourn with a Evangelical Presbyterian pastor and congregation. 

BUT, WAIT! Read this passage. What is your immediate impression?

"All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means "God is with us")." - Isaiah 7:14 (NLT) 

Mine was this: God held "woman" in such high esteem that she was CHOSEN to bring Immanuel into the world in human form! AND, not a married woman, who might have some status, but "a virgin" - a young, unmarried woman, without status, or property. Thinking about the fact that God chose a young, unmarried woman to bring forth the Savior seems to me, to be a major vote of confidence toward the female portion of the created populace. I am blown away by seeing this for the first time! God so loved the world...but s/he LOVED WOMAN so much that Jesus was born of Mary, a young, unmarried, Nazarene - a young WOMAN! 

The creator God chose a woman. Think about that. 

Are many of the world's religions, at best, dismissive of women, and at worst, much worse? Yes. BUT that is NOT the action of GOD! God, loves ALL of her/his creation. Today, I realized that the actions of institutions are NOT reflective of God's love for creation. Today, for the first time, I saw that God deeply loves WOMEN! This is such an enormous revelation to me, that I had to share it! 

If the Creator loved women enough to allow Immanuel to be born of a woman, as a helpless baby, then, by extension, the Creator loves all women. If the Creator loves all women, then regardless of the stance of a particular religion or church, we women need to embrace God's love for us and KNOW that we are LOVED! 

This is a seriously important realization for me, as a woman who wants to identify as a Christ-follower, but who has felt marginalized by churches as institutions. This may be my very own Christmas miracle.

November 25, 2016

I am sick. And frustrated. And tired. And headachy. 

I would like very much to simply cry until I felt better, but that is not even a possibility.

I am sick in spite of eating healthily, in spite of scrupulous hand washing, and flu vaccines. I am sick, and when I plan to spend the day resting and trying to allow my body to work its self-healing, some new frustration inducing item rears its head! All the stress is simply making it harder to get well. 

The frustration, is multifaceted, and caused by a number of things:
The actual car accident of 10/23; all the surrounding events swirling amid the vortex of that 7 car pile up, including the way I have been treated by the insurance company, who has no problem taking my money quarterly, but seems unable to make phone calls to communicate with me. Also, in that vortex is my panic and anxiety when I must drive, and the looming fear regarding the drive to Virginia to retrieve our car if they ever fix it! And there seems to be great difficulty getting, not just phone calls, but any information. 
The accident, the car and the insurance company are just one tip of my frustration iceberg!
Related to the accident, is the frustration caused by the apparent lack of justice and fair play with the seven vehicles involved.  

Then there is my job. While I love the kids I care for, I arrive frazzled after my long commute, which causes me to be more short tempered than I would like.  Add to that, the fact that too often, I receive a text asking me to work an additional day, because the kids Mom is herself, overburdened and frazzled, and forgot that she is required to work on a particular day. While I empathize with her plight, it doesn’t help my frustration levels. And, while I love my charges, I fear there is no Mary Poppins award for me. The kids are 9, 7, & 4. The 7 year old wants to act like she’s 27, or 37. It’s wearing on me.

I am frustrated by my inability to cope. With the kids, with the accident, with my illness of the past week. And I despise feeling like a whiner, yet I seem to reach that whine-inducing threshold more and more quickly lately.

I am frustrated by little things that I should be able to overlook. Minor incompetence by customer service. Words from a friend that my brain twists into something hurtful. My perception of simple day to day things, that take an air of being monumental. 

The tiredness probably goes hand in hand with the other things, because I have not been sleeping well, due to whatever bug is bugging me, and because of working extra, and worrying more. My sleep is disrupted by stuffy sinuses, the ache from coughing, and the ache from the accident. I have tried napping and resting when I am at home, but I need a stretch of several days, which I do not seem to be able to accomplish.

The headachy stuff is both physical and mental. The physical, related to the sinuses and lack of sleep. The mental, related to trying to wrap my mind around the astonishing levels of cruelty in this world, and how things seem to be escalating beyond our control. It hurts my head and my heart.

All things currently seem just beyond anyone’s ability to control, or even explain.

YEP. I am sick, frustrated, tired, and headachy. And heartachy, too.

Emotional Eating

21 May 2016


Today has been a bitch! See, I am an emotional eater, first class! What I mean by that, is that when life gets tough, I eat. Pizza, cake, ice cream, candy bars. Usually high sugar, and/or high fat items. I should also mention my history of depression. When life gets tough and I indulge, I open the door to allow in the depression, in the form of isolation, self-loathing, sadness, and a general feeling of emptiness.

54 days into using Medifast on the Take Shape for Life program, and today is the first day that has been seriously hard for me.

For those unfamiliar, Take Shape for Life is a health transformation program that includes weight loss. The weight loss is accomplished using meal replacement foods, produced by Medifast. The combination of nutritionally balanced meal replacements, along with one meal daily consisting of lean protein and low glycemic veggies, as well as the support of a personal coach, books by TSFL founder, and an online community of other folks also doing the program, are usually enough to keep me on track. 

I came to this program as a 66 year old woman with borderline hyperglycemia, borderline high cholesterol, and borderline low density lipoproteins, an inactive lifestyle, and a body weight of 212.4 pounds. My goals were to get my borderline blood values into the normal range, lose weight doing it, and learn what  got me to this weight, so that I could address the appropriate changes. I wanted to be healthy and learn to eat like a healthy, thin person.

Yesterday I was to have a shortened work day, with only 2 of the usual  3 children I care for with me. I was looking forward to spending some time with just the two older kids, who only had a half day of school. The plan, as communicated to me, was that I would pick the kids up at their elementary school, and take them out to lunch, followed by some time at the park. Sounded good. But, due to poor communication, on both my part, and their Mom’s, I hadn’t realized I was stepping into a situation fraught with children’s anger and disappointment. 

Yesterday was "Kennywood Day". (Kennywood is a local amusement park) And, the kids were not going, even though the original plan was for the family to go. Personal family issues made changes necessary and these had been discussed with the kids the previous evening and again that morning. Although, I knew nothing about any of this at the time.

Within 10 minutes of picking up the children, things were headed on a severe downward trajectory. So great was my frustration, that I even told the kids that I had no idea how anticipation of time together could turn to dread within 7 minutes! (Yeah, I know, no freaking nanny of the year award here!) But, we did, after a phone call to Mom, some intense talking time among the three of us, finally rescue the day. At lunch, I had a salad with only items allowed on my low glycemic plan. It was what we on the program refer to as a "NSV", or non-scale victory. But it wasn’t enough to remove the darkness of the days earlier experiences. Nor could the fact that one child reported, "it was a great day!"  How could it?  Especially when the other child still thought it was "the worst day" of her life?       

OK, so why is that included here, in this saga of mine about a bad day on my lifestyle change plan?  Because those kind of bad feelings linger with me. It’s as if those kinds of feelings have some sort of emotional stick-um, which prevents me from just shaking it off. As a result, when I got home from my shortened day, I was feeling emotionally drained and very tired.

We had our dinner, without any drama, thank goodness. And I was still on plan. We sat down to watch my beloved Penguins play game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. I was tired, but really had high hopes for the game. As the drubbing of my guys at the skates of the Tampa Bay team progressed, I became even more dejected. At the end of period 2, I went to bed. I was feeling overwhelmed by those sneaky feelings that creep in and can result in a full blown depressive episode, - the sadness, lethargy, need to isolate, emptiness, and self-loathing. But, at that point, I really thought I would wake up feeling "normal" in the morning.

The plan for Saturday was to include some neighborhood yard sales, which I was looking forward to earlier in the week, my weekly weigh-in, and relaxation. Laundry was already done, and except for some dusting, so was the cleaning.

I slept in until 8:15 AM.  Still wasn’t feeling great, and since it was cooler outside and raining, that added to my feelings of dismay. But since today was weigh-in day, and I just knew I was finally going to be under 190, I was sure things would begin looking up.

WRONG! Weigh-in was 190.2 pounds. Now, to those who have not hitched their wagon to the numbers on the scale, that two tenths may seem insignificant. However, if you are sticking to a program, and wanting desperately to stop seeing the 190s on the scale, it is greatly significant. Just another in the series of small, crappy feelings that cling like dog poop to your shoe.

So, I thought, I should go to the support page for the group on Facebook and post my weight and my feelings of dejection. Which I did. Only I included a snippet from yesterday’s lunch at Steak & Shake, about me sticking my baby finger into the younger child’s hot fudge sauce, as a cheat. Really, it was a non-issue for me, so I really shouldn’t have even mentioned it, except for my need for full disclosure. The important parts of my post to the group were that I was still in the 190s weight wise, that my team lost an important game on the way to the Stanley Cup, that I wanted to go eat a freaking Blizzard, or giant piece of chocolate cake, AND that I really wasn’t feelin the whole Medifast/TSFL thing at that moment in time.

[In fairness, a couple of people "got it". But, there seemed to be many who thought my issue was that I had "cheated" with that minuscule bit of hot fudge! Those people irritated me!]

I don’t know, maybe I’m simply an angry, obtuse, slightly-less-fat-than-I was in March person. I still want to go get an order of Gorilla Fries at the pizza place in Zelienople!  I don’t think I will. But I want to. 

I know that everybody has bad days. I know that no plan is a panacea. I know that emotional eating opens the door to depressive behaviors that I want to remove from my life.  I know enough to know that if I didn’t write this down, I would continue in a downward emotional spiral, and that is not a healthy direction. I also know that this too shall pass, but for some reason this, Day #54 on my health plan, has been the hardest since day #2. And on day #2, I sat on my LR couch and cried, because I felt physically ill, and had a headache that would not abate. I think that was easier to navigate than this emotional quagmire.

The Happenings of an Unexpected Day With Three Kids

Surprise! No school today. Until I arrived and everyone was still in bed, I had no idea. 

Perhaps it's a sign of age that I need advance notice if I am to have all three children on a given day.  Maybe it's a result of being sick yesterday, and still feeling less than 100% today. 

Thank dog the weather is reasonable & relatively dry. That means a trip to the park is possible. 

Of course, even the park doesn't offer immunity from the arguments, fights, and yelling between Nick & Anamaria.  

When I explained that they need to either resolve their issues, play separately, or play without hitting, Anamaria declared I was being mean to her. The upshot was my declaration that continued fighting & arguing that was brought to my attention would result in a return trip home, where the two older child we will play separately in their own rooms. 

Then Nick got his head stuck! He was terrified. It was simply a matter of moving lower between the blue metal barriers along the elevated walk, so he came out unscathed. As I held him, sobbing, Anamaria piped up with: I can do it and not get MY head stuck! Which, of course, gained my immediate reprimand: Did you learn NOTHING just now? DO NOT STICK YOUR HEAD BETWEEN THOSE RAILS! Then, I continued in a more reasonable voice: You may indeed be able to put your head between the rails now. Nick used to be able to, too. But, you are growing children & eventually your head will get stuck, too. Nick was calm now. Anamaria was glaring at me, as if I had just ruined her childhood!

There are no other children here at the park today. The only other folks we've see are people walking their dogs, or young moms with babies in strollers, running. 

Sometimes I wish I could run... But I choose to be with these kids and I DO love them. Some days are just more challenging and require that I write about the challenge.

Minimal?

2015 Dec 19

My friend Grace asked: "You are really into this minimalist thing, aren’t you?" 

I’m not sure either Raymond or I would describe ourselves as minimalist. But, we are definitely no longer collectors, or hoarders. We rarely make unnecessary purchases. I no longer troll yard sales and Ebay for things I didn’t know I "needed" until I saw them! We have what we need. We don’t want much. We don’t accumulate. We have mostly items for which we see a clear, present use, or function.

We do have, according to my brother, "too many books". In our defense, we gave away multiple boxes of books when we left our previous house. I attempted to stop buying books and only use the library, for a couple of years before we moved into our RV. I tried using electronic books, exclusively. In the end, we realized that we both like books, and enjoy holding actual, physical books, in our hands. We are more selective than we used to be, but have decided that it is OK to have what my nonreader brother considers "too many books". To that end, we opted to forgo a dining room in our new house. Instead, we have a den, which is where our books and laptops will reside. 

The two extra rooms of our new house currently have nothing in them. We envisioned at least one of them as a guest room, but we are in no hurray to furnish them. Does that make us minimalist? No, that just means we’re taking our time before deciding what those rooms will evolve into. 

As to all the stuff (and there were boxes and boxes!) that we got rid of when we left for our adventure, I don’t think we miss any of it. We sold a couple of things, but most of it we gave away, or donated. With the exception of those incredibly heavy IKEA Billy bookcases, the crystal cross that my Daddy gave me, and the doggie angel Christmas collectibles, I can’t say I miss any of it! In fact, as I sorted through a couple of bins that Vinny and Davey brought over, I asked myself, "Why did you feel such an attachment to this that you HAD to keep it?"  Only one thing is still MIA that I was truly looking forward to having and displaying, and that is my collection of Hallmark Lighthouse Christmas ornaments. I thought I had "loaned" them to Vinny, or stored them in with some of the Christmas ornaments we kept. They have not yet turned up. But, they may be in a bin in our basement, since not all of those have been emptied yet.

Getting back to what Grace asked … I don’t think Raymond and I could’ve stayed in our old house and gradually downsized to get to where we are now. For us, the process was too overwhelming. It was better for us to simply get rid of our accumulated stuff in one fell swoop. It was better for us to walk away. It was better to move absolute essentials (or what we thought were absolute and essential) into our RV, and learn to live in a tiny space. That experience required us to become more organized, to own less, and to be content with what fit in less than 200 square feet. 

And, truthfully, while we were traveling, we were fine. Discontent set in when we spent 20 months in one place. It was during our stationary time in North Carolina, that we felt claustrophobic. Our choice, to either continue traveling, or to settle somewhere. We choose to settle down. But, that time in the RV taught us to live with less, to be more organized, and it was a needed lesson. It was also a lesson we took in and made part of us. We no longer have the need nor the urge to buy and accumulate stuff. That is NOT to say that we don’t buy anything. Just ask the UPS, Fed Ex, or USPS delivery person. But, we are more attentive about what we acquire. That circumspection is a direct result of dumping most of what we owned, living in less than 200 square feet, and realizing what is really important.

In some ways we seem to have come full circle, by returning to western PA. In some ways, maybe we have. But, our return is as better human beings, people with a greater sense of self and others, and a deeper appreciation of what really matters in this life. For us the journey home required drastic action before we could click our heels and say, "There’s no place like home".

INSTEAD OF A CHRISTMAS LETTER...

2015 Dec 18

It has been one month, and a couple of days, since our return to the western Pennsylvania area. It has been a month of adjustments, changes, and adaptations, along with new beginnings in old situations.

We have settled in at our new-to-us home, in Ambridge.  We have met a few of our neighbors, and discovered that, in addition to us, there are several other newcomers to our immediate neighborhood. We felt extremely blessed that the weather in western PA was unseasonably warm during our first month back. That made for easier adaptation, after experiencing little true winter weather these past four years. 

We have gotten much of what we needed to furnish and make our house functional. Because of the kindness of Martha, we have seating in our den, and side tables in our family room/man cave. In the living room, we have a brand new sofa, thanks to the benevolence of Carolyn. The future family space, or man cave, in our finished basement, has plenty of seating thanks to Barbara, who also, through her generous gift to us, made possible several Craig’s List purchases, and the ability to hire people with trucks to haul Martha’s wonderful donations, as well as the family room furniture. And, dear Pat and Van, supplied us, through their bountiful Home Depot gift card, a new microwave, and large wheeled trash receptacles! The previous owners left us a couple of lamps, as well. All in all, the only things still on our list of needed items are a bed frame and headboard, and more kitchen chairs, and possibly an expandable table, for when more than four people are eating together.

We have a wonderful bunch of friends and family, who made the adjustments that much easier. Dear Laura, who in the midst of her own life altering events, came to North Carolina, as promised, to drive our Jeep back for us. I cannot  thank her enough! My brothers, Vinny and Davey, who loaded all the stuff that had been stored in Vinny’s attic and basement, and brought it to our house AND unloaded it! All before we ever arrived! Again, thank you pales as a response to their hard work. And again, Vinny, on the day we arrived from North Carolina, spent five long hours, helping us unload the RV, and bring all that stuff into our new home. THEN he drove the Jeep, following me to the storage facility where the RV is now living. I am lucky to have such a brother. And Bill & Ann, my brother and sister-in-law, who are Ambridge residents, who have been helping us each step of the journey, though their guidance, their local knowledge, and their kindness. My sweet niece Jennifer, who brought us a beautiful Himalayan Salt candle holder, and offers unending positivity and love. 

On December 1, I began a new beginning, in an old situation. I returned to the family for whom I previously babysat. Another blessing, to be sure! When I was their babysitter in the past, there were two children, now there are three. My previous young charges have grown and changed. The boy, who is approaching nine years old, informed me the other day, while crossing a busy street in a commercial area, that he really didn’t hold anyone’s hand anymore. I explained that while I certainly understood, I was a bit nostalgic for the little boy whose hand I used to hold and who willingly held mine. His response: "That’s what my Mom says, too". The girl child, too, has changed from the tomboy, who happily wore her brother’s hand-me-downs and played in the dirt, to a junior Diva, with a flair for the dramatic, who loves wearing party dresses. The youngest, who came along after my tenure, seems to be a sweet, soft-spoken child. He and I are just beginning to establish a relationship. The only drawback to the job, is my commute. It is a 35-40 minute drive in the morning, which is long, but manageable, since the hour is early and traffic is usually light. However, my return commute is long and for three quarters, usually heavily trafficked. It sometimes stretches to 60-75 minutes, deals with crossing bridges at the downtown area, which any Pittsburgher will tell you, is stressful. I am attempting to learn calmness and developing the ability to go with the flow, even if the flow is only moving at 5 mph.

All in all, I am glad to be back. Nearer to family. In a familiar situation. In a house which is much more manageable than the one we left. And, the lessons we learned along the way, have made us different people than the ones who headed out on the road. Better? Maybe. Wiser? Definitely.

2015 Oct 12

Driving along Hwy 12 today, just north of Buxton, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the area. The clouds, sometimes high, white and fluffy, sometimes grey, heavy and daunting. The sunlight, in its many permutations. The wind, as it danced along the dunes and sea oats. The water, in its many forms, sea and sound, rain and mist. I was so overcome with emotion, I had tears in my eyes.

I will greatly miss the beauty of this part of coastal NC. I will also miss the power of the area represented in the wind and water. I will miss the power of God that seems palpable here on the coast. The reflection of His glory in each sunrise and sunset, will be missed.

Yet, I have had a gift given to me for which I am ever grateful. It has been a blessing to have lived here, on this island for 19+ months, a boon I shall forever cherish.

GOING HOME?

2015 Aug 8

In 2010, we began to seriously talk about, research, and plan for a life a full time travel, in an RV.  I was desperate to get out of Pittsburgh’s North Side. Our neighborhood had NEVER felt like home to me. It was never the place I would’ve chosen to live. (I still harbor some unresolved feelings about having spent 20+ years in a neighborhood and house not really of my choosing, but that’s my own personal issue  which I will eventually resolve.) Getting an RV and traveling was my grown up equivalent of running away. But, it also got us out of Pittsburgh, and the North Side, which I do not think would’ve happened without a dramatic exit. Now, I am willing to admit that there may have been better ways of dealing with my desperate unhappiness. But, the way things have played out, haven’t been all bad, or even really bad at all. We did travel and see areas that I had longed to visit for years. Places like Ely, Minnesota. I got to meet, in real life, a few people whom I had only known online. People like Kandy, Anick and Prin. (I missed out on meeting Alexis, Jennifer, and Shelley. But life isn’t over yet!) 

The original plan when we began to travel, was to roam until we found a small town that we both loved. Unfortunately, we haven’t both loved the same places, or even the same climates. A couple of years into the adventure, Raymond began detailing his need of more space and being desirous of "settling" somewhere. The opportunity to be work campers at Ocean Waves Campground seemed to offer at least a partial solution. We had been campers at OWC in the past, both in tents and in our RV. Ray agreed to give it a shot. We have been  here in Waves, NC since March 2014. Being two rather introverted people, living full time, in a 29’ Class C motor home, with no real privacy or personal space, has proven to be a greater challenge than we anticipated. And, while I enjoy my work camping experience, which consists of cleaning bathhouses with my husband a couple of morning each week, and working in the office/camp store a couple of days, my dear husband is not as enamored with his responsibilities. He has become quite adept at bathhouse cleaning, but the two mornings he spends weed whacking and blowing grass cuttings, are, especially in June, July and August, sweat drenched days, that result in muscle spasms. He claims to be ready "to be fully retired". Add that to the fact that he has been wanting to put down roots, and you see why he wants to get off the road, even though, technically, we haven’t moved the motor home since March 2014. 

For me, I am missing family, friends, and familiarity. When I lost my Father, in January 2014, I lost my anchor. No matter where we were, or how far we travelled, my Daddy was always in Pittsburgh. And I always made sure to be traveling somewhere nearby in September, so I could celebrate his birthday with him. All my siblings live in the Pittsburgh area, and since my Dad’s passing, I feel a greater need to connect with them. I never thought, when I pulled out of our driveway in the motor home, that moving back to Pittsburgh would be an option for me. But it is. NOT into the city proper, and definitely NOT to the North Side, but back to an area less than a ten hour drive from family. Back to an area with up to the minute medical care. Back to an area of good pizza, and perogies. Will I regret this move? I hope not. But, there was something very special about having one of my nieces say, when I told her we will be moving back, "WOO HOO!!! Can’t wait to have you guys nearby again!!!.."  There is something special about feeling wanted :) 

In the recesses of my brain, I had thought that we might settle in coastal NC. And I harbored fantasies that some of my siblings might one day relocate there as well. That, it seems was simply fantasy. After spending the last 17 months in coastal Carolina, about 65 miles south of my "happy place", there has been one visit by multiple siblings, and no discussion of anyone relocating. I have been disillusioned by both locals and tourists. I am a Yankee. And, in addition, I am a left leaning liberal. And while normally, I discourage such labels, I mention them here, to illustrate why I don’t really seem to fit in, even though I had thought this to be my happy place. 

I long for a tribe, a group of like minded people, who will understand and accept my quirks. I desire someone with whom to have breakfast, or lunch. I want to have a space where people will feel free to drop by. I want a neighborhood library. I know that I am, for the most part, an introvert. I do best with one or two people at a time. I wish for folks who understand that. I want to live somewhere with options - movies, plays, recycling centers, stuff that I don’t find right now.

In the midst of the beauty of this coastal place, I came to realize that perhaps this is my happy place, but in a 'vacation here a couple times yearly' kind of way, not a 'live here day to day' way. Who knows? I am willing to say that nothing is etched in stone, at this point. 

I fear this writing has been too much stream of consciousness, and not enough structured understanding and explanation. I love that life is not etched in stone. I don't expect people to fully understand any of this. But, I am going home. No matter how much I might have wanted to get away, I am beginning to accept that I am a Pittsburgher, in ways I never realized until I lived away, and on the road. Perhaps I am simply a slow learner. I have lived in other places, Kansas, and Hawaii, come to mind, and I returned to Pittsburgh from both of those areas, as well. And though we are returning to Pittsburgh, we will still travel, visit and explore. We have never, either of us, been to Montana, Washington, or Oregon. We loved the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. If our health and well being continues, there is no reason we can't visit Alaska. But, for now, we are going home in November.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RON

2015 July 13

Happy Birthday, Ron.

Today is the birthday of my brother-in-law, Ron, Raymond’s younger brother. I wish him on this day, blessings, joy, love, and cake! I do not really, even after 30+ years, know him well. He tends to be a very private person, not one who shares personal experiences or anecdotes. The things I do know include, but are not limited to: knowing he enjoys his business, I have described him on occasion as a workaholic; he is a car guy; he has a kind heart, though he does not wear it on his sleeve; he attends church more regularly than most, including me; he is smitten with his grandchildren; he has begun to talk about cutting back his hours at work, (which I thought would never happen); he is a creature of habit; he pays attention to his health. There are other things, but these few will suffice for this birthday.

I have never felt really close to Ron, yet he has welcomed us into his home on more than one occasion since we have been "on the road". He places great store in family, though I do not know if this has always been the case, or if it is a function of age and maturity. No matter, it is part of who he is now.

More than anything, when I look at photos of Ron with his grandchildren, I see the joy in his eyes, and I am glad for him to have that experience.

So, to the brother-in-law I may yet have the chance to get to know well, I wish many more years enjoying those boys who call you "Pap", and many more years appreciating and basking in the really important things life has to offer.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

2015 July 8 DREAM

Dream

Upon awakening this is what I remembered of a dream that I had right before I woke up.

First part, I was with Bob, Lois, Brittany and Molly Kuttesch, leaving their home. Bob was escorting me to the North Side of Pittsburgh. Not sure exactly why. But we had a very companionable conversation, which ended at a small house on the NS, which belonged to a very friendly black woman, whom I did not know, but with whom we had stopped to chat for awhile. Wherever I was headed, I parted ways with Bob at this point. The woman went into her house and for a moment, I considered asking her if I could shower at her house. For some reason, I had no idea where my destination was, but I desperately wanted to shower and wash my hair.

Morph to the next part of the dream. I have no idea where I was (as in what or whose home, or what city or neighborhood)

This is the part that REALLY stuck with me when I woke up.

I was looking at myself in a full length mirror, and I can’t remember if I was naked completely, but I definitely had naked arms, shoulders, and most of my upper torso. I was upset by my reflection. The reason for my upset was that I was looking at: 1. protruding bones of my shoulders, neck, scapula, and ribs; 2. I was looking and seeing myself from an odd perspective, in that everything else in the mirror seemed to be at a perspective normal to a person of my non dreaming height, however, my own personage was shorter, much like a little person, if you can understand that (it was like I was looking down on myself); 3. I thought that my boney reflection was the result of having cancer.

I awoke and ran the contents of the dream over and over in my head. Because my DH doesn’t believe in the power of dreams to help you work through issues, I tried very hard to seek reasons that could’ve contributed to the dream. These are instances that the DH would say influenced my dream content: 1. I read a posting on Facebook by one of the K family before going to bed last night; 2.My BFF’s Dad was recently diagnosed with thyroid cancer; 3. I had an interaction with a longtime friend last night who is in a lifelong struggle with an eating disorder.

Taking all that into consideration, do any of you have insight into dreams? Can any of you offer any guidance?

This is Jack. His owners are staying at Ocean Waves Campground. They wanted to take a day trip to Ocracoke Island today, and mentioned they were thinking of putting Jack in a kennel for a day. This conversation happened yesterday, while I was working in the store. Anyway, one thing lead to another, and I offered to dog sit for the day.  In my mind, it was great, because I wasn't working today, and I could get a bit of a canine fix. I failed to remember that we clean bathhouses on Thursdays. Oops. Raymond was quick to point out my error when I mentioned that the Peters would be bringing Jack by to acclimate a little bit yesterday evening.

This morning, Jack's owners came by to drop him off at 6AM, on their way to the ferry. They bought his favorite toy, his chewy bone, his food & water dishes, treats, his towel, and his leash and long tie out and his dinner. Off they went, after making sure we had each other's phone numbers, just in case. Jack was fine, until they pulled out and drove off. At that point he seemed a little anxious.

The temperature at 6:30 was already 74F, with humidity at 98%. The question on my mind, and Raymond's was: when will we be able to do the bathrooms? If we waited till Jack's parents returned, it would be too late for bathroom duty, as well as, way too hot. Taking Jack with us made no sense. Leaving Jack alone, even for a couple of hours seemed irresponsible. Especially, since Jack had reacted to his owners' leaving by standing at the edge of the driveway, starring off in the direction they went for several minutes.  

It was decided that I would take the work truck, go and do the ladies side in all three bathhouses. Then, Ray would take the golf cart and do the men's sides. I would go first, since Ray was in the middle of his daily viewing of Mike & Mike, on ESPN. 

Once out doing the bathhouses, I decided to do both the men's and women's at the beach bathhouse and the middle bathhouse. My plan was to then let Ray do the remaining small bathhouse, which is close to our site. That way, he could access everything he needed without having to transfer it to a golf cart. The plan seemed to be a good one. (Leaving aside the details of how awful the ladies beach and men's middle were.) I was happy to get my portion done. I was looking forward to a shower and spending time with Jack. 

When I approached our RV, Ray and Jack were outside. Ray had taken Jack for a short walk and a pee break. Only now, Jack refused to return to the RV. I took Jack's lead, and Ray went inside. I asserted, begged, cajoled, and pleaded, yet Jack simply hunkered down, refusing to walk toward the RV. The sun was baking, and it was sticky hot! But Jack was having none of moving toward the cool air of the RV. So, I thought, let's walk across the street to the shade and grass, which we did. Still, any move to walk anywhere near the direction of our RV, was met with diligent opposition from Jack. I am not sure how much Jack weighs, but he is muscular and when he stops, there is no moving him. So, we walked. Farther from the RV. We got as far as site number 6, where Mr Stuart and Ms Stella are camped. Theirs is a shady site. Jack still refused to turn toward the highway and the direction of our RV. Now his refusal came in the form of lying down in the grass by Stuart and Stella's picnic table. I tried being authoritative. I tried bribery. I tried pleading. Jack was having none of it. 

Finally, Mr Stuart came out. He tried being authoritative. He tried being commanding. Still Jack refused to budge. Stuart went inside and returned with a bribe, consisting of bread. Jack liked the bread, even stood up, but still refused to walk, especially in the direction of our RV. Stuart suggested I go and get the Jeep, while he stayed with Jack the statue. 

I returned driving the Jeep, with Jack's favorite toy alongside me. I pulled up next to where Jack had planted himself, leaned over, opened the passenger door, said, "Come, Jack! I have your toy!" Jack was up, and in the Jeep, almost before I got that out of my mouth!  Stuart closed the door to the Jeep and said, "Well, now we know what this dog likes - he likes to go for a ride."

I drove to our site, got Jack out of the passenger side, after showing him his toy, and talking up how awesome that toy is. I had a minor moment of panic when I thought Jack was going to put on the brakes, but I kept using my excited, playtime voice, and he finally bounded toward the RV. I opened the door and he leaped up the steps, into the cool air inside. He sat sweetly, looking as though none of the previous activity ever took place. Then, he happily took the treat I offered, drank some water, laid down, and went to sleep.

Sleepytime Jack

Regrets

Watched a phoot essay about Dukey, a black lab whose owners documented his last day. It was filled with love, smiling pictures of Dukey, and his many friends who shared a portion of his day prior to his euthanasia. It broke my heart. I sobbed uncontrollably. 

Part of the reason may be that it was too close to home. It is only 6 months since we had Greyla put down. And Dukey was a black lab, like Greyla.  Yet, the tearing in my heart and the tears rolling down my face feel like tears of regret.

The regret exists bc our timing, mine and Greyla's was always off. It took me years into her tenure with us, for me to fully love and accept her. She was not an easy dog. And she came to us too soon after the loss of Jake, my heart dog, for me to bond easily early on in the relationship. But, eventually we did bond. But my regret was always that it had taken me so long to accept her for who she was. 

Then, there was the regret that came toward the end of her life. I am not convinced that our timing regarding the end of her life was flawless. She was in physical decline for a long time prior to our decision to let her go in mid November. Total strangers in the campground last spring and summer would question our motives regarding keeping her going. I was deeply wounded by those questions. But, we took her back to Pittsburgh in April last year for a complete physical, which showed her to be in metabolic good health. She had some arthritis changes in her spine and hips, but those were not a good enough reason to end her life, we reasoned. These were things treatable with anti-inflammatories and pain meds.  So, she returned with us to NC, and lived out several more months. 

Greyla's vision was poor due to cataracts, but she asked to go out walking in the grass multiple times daily, bc she LOVED sniffing the grass, and the ocean air. We adjusted her meds as necessary in an attempt to keep her paint free, as much as possible. 

Her appetite was good, though odd. For a short period, she would only eat her holistic, grain free, organic dog food IF it was topped with Spaghetti-o's! But she had an appetite. One of our criteria for deciding when to let go of our dogs over the years, included observing their appetite, fluid intake, and pain management. She seemed good on all three counts.

Yet, I wonder still, if we were looking for reason to hang on to our girl.  When I looked at the pictures of Dukey, today I saw a joy that I do not remember seeing in Greyla during her last five or six months on this earth. Perhaps our criteria for keeping her going was too narrow. Perhaps, it was bc of our wonky timing issues. I was so slow to come to love and accept her, that in the end, I was again too slow. This time, too slow to love her enough to let her go. 

I know that I will never have a definite answer to the guilt and anguish I feel about Greyla. I know that life is a crap shoot, that we all make mistakes. And I know that in time, I will probably come to grips with my questions regarding Greyla, and accept that even if our timing was off, it was still OK, bc we erred on the side of caution and love. It's just that I'm not there yet.

Thoughts on the Future

2015 May 3

Lately I have been short-tempered. I find myself irritated by relatively minor things. I have been wondering why.  Yes, I have been sick, but I'm recovering nicely. Yes, the weather has been peculiar, but we have a roof over our heads and the capacity to warm ourselves. We have too many, frequent reminders of how much we miss Greyla. I haven't spoken to my brothers or sister in a couple of months, nor have I spoken to Laura, my dear sister from another mother, in a long time. All these are contributory, I am sure.

However, the major factor causing my short temper and my crankiness, is the uncertainty of our future. 

We have decided that we are done traveling full-time. As part of the transition, we have been here working as work campers on Hatteras Island since March 2014. We even spent the winter here, while the campground was closed. We do not wish to do that again. We seem to have an easier time deciding what we don't want to do, as opposed to what we do want to do. 

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy work camping, especially here at Ocean Waves, where it feels like a pleasant village. I would, if they would have me, come back to work camp here again next year. The problem is my husband,  who has made his preference clear, and he wants to be retired. He wants to work on his time and terms. So, I think returning as work campers at OWC, is a very remote possibility, since more often than not, they like couples as work campers. It makes the future even more uncertain, since it means there is uncertainty regarding both our winter plans and our plans for next year. IF we were returning to OWC, then we could focus on finding a furnished winter rental from November till March or April. 

But, do we plan on a winter rental? Something for just November thru April? That would be feasible IF we were returning to Ocean Waves Campground next year. And I DO want to return. R does, too, but as a camper, which for the most part is NOT financially possible.

Do we look for a long term, 1 year rental? A possibility, but where? We think we might want to simply stay in coastal NC, but NOT on Hatteras Island, due to the isolation of the Island in the winter months.

Do we look at buying a condo? There are a few in a price range that meets our needs. Do we want to live in Corolla, Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, or Manteo?

My heart has always been in Corolla, though I can see some benefit to Manteo.  

There just seem to be more questions than answers with regard to our future.

Throw into the mix the idea that maybe we should head back to Pittsburgh, and I begin to see why I have been feeling irritated and ill tempered lately.

What to do, what to do…

Welcome February!

2015 Feb 1

Welcome February! 

Historically, I have seen February as the light at the end of winter's dark tunnel. It helps that February is a short month and contains three benchmarks for me: Ray's and my wedding anniversary, Valentine's Day, and my birthday. Three celebratory days when one is encouraged, by custom, to eat cake, contribute to the fact that I enjoy February. 

In the past, when we were living in Pittsburgh, we often took a vacation to Corolla, NC, in the month of February. Now, in our current living situation on Hatteras Island, we are looking forward to other family members taking a vacation to Corolla. Perhaps as many as four of my brothers (but, probably at least two or three), my sister, as well as my adopted 'sister from another Mother', are planning a vacation to the OBX's northern beaches in late February.  I am beyond excited! 

There is also the possibility of a trip to Staten Island in mid February. Pat and Van, two longtime Ocean Waves Campground campers and workers, have invited us to come to visit them. Actually, we were invited earlier in the off season, but were reluctant to leave Hatteras Island until after the holiday season. We then settled on a date in January, which got bumped by winter storm Juno. Then we planned to spend Super Bowl weekend, but again, the weather was uncooperative, as that area of NY is expecting a winter storm with snow, ice and freezing rain. As it stands, we will visit, but not until mid February, and only if the weather cooperates! 

Gosh! February is going to zoom by this year! I am grateful that the month began with warmer temperatures, diminished wind, and sunshine. We have experienced much cold and freezing winds this winter, as well as a few nor'easters. Having celebratory dates to observe, and visits to anticipate, is certain to make the light at the end of winter's tunnel even brighter.

2015 Jan 28, Beauty, Joy, and a Certain Peace

Beauty, Joy, and a Certain Peace

Monday afternoon as we returned from a trip to Manteo, NC, I noticed a particular colorful aspect to the clouds. We were headed south on Hwy 12, in the area near Bodie Island Lighthouse. There are, fortunately, patches along that stretch of road to pull over, so we did. I was certain the sun and clouds were about to amaze with a beautiful sunset display. I was not disappointed.

Poor Raymond does not have the same ability to see some of the potential for color in the sky that I have, due to his color deficiency. So, some of the beauty I saw immediately, was lost to him. I often find myself trying to explain what I am seeing, and getting confused looks from him. Some of the pinks that I saw on Monday, appear as yellows to him. But, I digress.

As I took photo after photo, I realized that one of the clouds had what was to me, a distinctive Lab profile shape. The more I watched it, the more distinctive it became. Unfortunately, the only camera I had with me was my phone, but I zoomed in anyway. 

As the "Angel Cloud Dog" took shape, I began to cry. 

Earlier that afternoon, I had been thinking about our Greyla Girl a lot. I was missing her. But, the Greyla I was missing, was not the frail, elderly dog whom we had allowed to cross the Bridge last November, but, rather, the silly, often goofy, sometimes mean girl we had raised from a pup. The thought plaguing me that afternoon, was whether we had held onto her too long. Had we egotistically made her last months harder than they would've been out of selfishness, because we didn't want to let her go? 

And then I saw the dog shaped profile in the clouds. I pointed it out to Raymond, but it seemed to have much more significance to me. I took it as a sign that Greyla bore no ill will toward the selfish humans who loved her too much. It seemed to me that it was a sign that Greyla was, indeed, at peace and in a joyful place. I took it as communication that there is beauty, joy and peace, if we look for it. Yes, I cried. In fact, I still cry when I look at the series of photos I took that afternoon. I cry because sometimes the beauty in the world is overwhelming. I cry because that beauty, though overwhelming, also brings me joy. And on that particular afternoon, I cried because seeing an "Angel Cloud Dog", brought me peace.

Watery Oblivion

The sea calls to me
the waves crash
the wind blows
and I am drawn to the roughness of the surf and the depth of the water

Today there is no sun a front is moving in

I am filled with tears I cannot shed
Perhaps my tears desire to mingle with the salty ocean
to merge with their perceived kin

For the first time in my life, I want to walk out into the surf 


                                                             2014 Nov 1

The Comfort of Watery Oblivion

2014 Nov 1

If you are a reader of Mind Flotsam, or a Facebook friend, or a friend in real life, or any combo of those, you may know that I deal with clinical depression. My personal opinion is that it is partly hereditary, partly seasonal, partly brain chemistry related. I take medication, which may help the condition. I know it did help when it was initially prescribed. In recent years, I have begun to doubt the ongoing benefits of fluoxetine therapy. That is not my reason for writing, though.

I need to try to articulate a brief thought that occurred to me yesterday as I sat on the dune line, staring out to the ocean. The thought may or may not have been related to my chronic depression. I need to put it out there, in an attempt to somehow banish it from my future.

Perhaps just a little more background is necessary. While I LOVE being near the beach, ocean, water, I rarely get wet, unless its raining. I do not swim. Nor do I venture into the surf, even when it is gentle. I will sometimes walk along the water and allow my feet to get wet. But at no time do I venture into the surf, to any depth above my knees. Though I am a person who loves the ocean, I also have extreme fear of moving water, especially deeper than say, eighteen inches.

So, try to understand the confusion that gripped me when, while sitting looking out at the raging waves yesterday, I suddenly felt drawn to walk out into the waves. Me, the person fearful of more than calf deep water. These were waves  breaking onshore with strength that ate up the sand and a height of about 3 feet. 

For a moment, it seemed I was drawn toward the water, and the possibility of oblivion. There was no value judgement attached to this desire. It only seemed like a good idea, to allow myself to be engulfed by the water, embraced by it, as it were. I didn't give any thought to the water temperature, or what anyone would think. For the time span during which I felt mesmerized enough to do this, I had no other thought. 

It was only scary in retrospect. When I "came to myself" and realized how comforted I was by this thought, I suddenly became frightened. Frightened by how desperately I had to force myself to think about the idea with logic and with the idea of consequence. Even then, it was a struggle to let go of what was an appealing, thoroughly comforting idea. I prayed for God to help me to get a grip. Then, I cried.

I sat there on the dunes for some time, trying to figure the whys and wherefores of this thought of walking into the embrace of the wild ocean and into oblivion. When I came home, I tried to talk to R about it, but that was not fruitful.

So, today, even though the thought has departed, I must write about it in an attempt to exorcise future thoughts of this type. 

Greyla

2014 Sept 27

 Mind Flotsam ~ GREYLA

Yesterday was a beautiful day weather wise, but an extremely heavy day emotionally. I awoke from a pleasant dream, feeling that something had worked toward resolution with regard to an old emotional wound. A good start to a good day, was my hope.

When I took Greyla out for a walk, the day began to turn emotionally darker. 

Greyla is 15 years, 5 months old, and has some neurological degeneration in her hindquarters, along with arthritic changes. Her vision is poor and her hearing less than perfect. However, her sense of smell and the pleasure she derives from sniffing is topnotch. We walked through the grassy area that she loves, out to the highway, where she always stands with her nose scenting the breeze from the Sound, which I am sure is rich with salty sea smells. Then we returned to our space and RV. 

As we walked the area between our Jeep and the RV, Greyla misstepped and fell down. Because her hindquarters are weak, I tried to support her as she attempted to rise. This resulted in her front legs giving out for the first time that I had noted, and her snout hit the concrete. 

When I finally got her inside the RV, and explained to R what had transpired, he seemed to think it was an anomaly.  My thinking was more dire, which set me on a path of wondering how we will know when the appropriate time comes to put our girl down.

With Blue, our first dog, I had the guidance of both our regular Vet whom I trusted implicitly, along with the Vets I worked with at the emergency Veterinary clinic, and my dear friend Carol, also a Vet. Blue had dual problems, in that she had a tumor on her liver, as well as renal dysfunction. It was the hardest decision we ever had been faced with at the point in our lives, yet we knew what and when it had to be done. 

With Jake, our second dog, the diagnosis was less clear, and we took the necessary step to gain clarity before making any decisions. Once we were relatively certain his 13 year old body was suffering from Leukemia, I was still unable to let him go. I loved that boy with my heart and soul, and so for a short time, while he was on steroids in massive doses, I slept on the floor of our sunroom with him, as his IV bag hung from the ceiling fan. He was unable to stand on his own. I remember awaking from a nap in the middle of the night, on the floor next to him. He had had a bloody bowel movement and attempted to scoot himself away from it, resulting in his beautiful face being inches from the poop. I am haunted by the look in his eyes. At that moment, in perfect clarity I saw that I was keeping him alive only for me.

Our third dog, Baxter, was a rescue who came to us at six years of age. We loved him for six years. At 12 he began to have problems with walking and balance. After x-rays and lengthy exams and observations, it was determined that he had a brain tumor, in the area controlling his balance. It would only exacerbate with time. It hurt, but there was clarity about the decision.

Katie was the fourth dog we put down. She came from a shelter and lived with us for 13 years, which made her probably around 16 when we faced her euthanasia. She made the decision easy for us. She stopped eating, gradually and then refused to drink. She communicated her need to move beyond this life very clearly. She was the only one of our dogs to that point, who didn't die at home, yet it seemed fitting, as she loved all the people at our Vet's office, so when the time came, she was among lots of people who loved her, in addition to her family.

Greyla is another story all together! There were those, including our trusted Vet, who counseled us to put her down in April of 2013, when abdominal x-rays showed the reason for her labored breathing to be a mass, extending from her diaphragm to her small intestine. But, because nobody could site the origin of that mass, we chose to have an ultrasound, ostensibly as part of the diagnostic process. From the ultrasound we discovered that the point of connection for Greyla's mass was her spleen, not her liver, as we had feared. After much consultation with both the Vet who did the ultrasound and our steadfast, caring Vet, Ed Bennett, we opted to go forward with surgery to remove Greyla's spleen and the mass, knowing full well all the ramifications. Greyla's recovery after the splenectomy slow, but steady. And there has not been one day when we have regretted that decision. 

I need to say, that all of that did not take place in a vacuum. Only three months before Greyla's surgery, I had received information that my Daddy had stage four lung cancer, discovered when he required emergency surgery for a bowel obstruction. I was not prepared to have so little control over so many events in such a brief period of time. Keeping Greyla alive at that point, gave the illusion of some control.

While we were in Pittsburgh, both last year, and again briefly in late April, Greyla has had follow ups with her Vet. We currently have her on a combo of meds to ease her arthritic inflammation, as well as to ease any pain she has. We do not have a Vet here on the Island. However, All Pet Animal Hospital and their staff have been wonderful via long distance. 

The problem is, now that I see deterioration, and although she still enjoys going outside to sniff,and she has never peed in the house, although she does poop in the house in a laying position regularly, she still eats though with less gusto, and drinks normally, and we are mostly able to manage her pain, I'm not sure how to gauge when it is time to let her go. Add to that, the complexity of R's relationship with her. Greyla is technically R's dog. She was a gift to him for his 50th birthday, as he had expressed a desire for another female black lab. 

The other night I thought I saw just a shadow of the look that Jake gave me that haunts me still. However, I don't want to be the one who makes this determination. I don't fully trust myself ~ the past year has been a difficult emotional one for me, filled with loss and mourning, on many levels. And Greyla, although a sweet dog in many ways, is not the brightest bulb on the tree :) I'm not certain she has the depth of spirit that Jake had, so it could be that I'm allowing guilt to see things that don't really exist.

R's response to my queries yesterday regarding Greyla's health and general well being was, "Her life's not so bad right now". Is he correct? Or is he delusional? 

How do we know what is right and when it's right? Do we wait for her to be unable to walk at all? To pee in the house? To loose all interest in food? Does her dignity come into play? And does she even have the self awareness to have "dignity"? 

Yesterday, my conclusion was to wait it out until R sees and resolves that  the time has come.  Today I find myself wondering if he sees through eyes so blinded by love for her, as I was with Jake, that he is missing important clues to her well being.

I spend too much time crying because I fear the loss, yet cannot bring myself to say with certainty that now is the time to let her go. This sucks.