I was thinking about different road trips I went on as a child.
Weekday mornings, when my mother taught junior high school on the other side of town (across the river) we only had one car so my father would drive her to work. I liked going along for the ride because coming home I had my father to myself and we had nice visits. He liked listening to the radio and we shared silly commercials ("Feed your doggie Thrive-O, very much alive-o, full of pep and vim. If you want a healthy pup then you better hurry up. Get Thriv-o for him." "Let Mrs. Grass make the soup in your house."). He also liked listening to Paul Harvey, probably because Paul was such a pompous ass and my father liked to mock him. I can't imagine why else. Anyway, I have nice memories of those rides.
We gave the next door neighbor wife a ride for a while. Her name was Betty Ring. They were the Rings. Betty and Gerald Ring and their daughter Carol. Carol was a red head with a bubble cut and worked at the branch library several blocks away. She walked to work every day (walked as if she had a pencil up her butt). Betty was always waiting in front of their house--like, ALWAYS, when we were ready to go. The car was parked in the garage at the back of the house--there are alleys running between each block and that's were garages are--great places for kids to play & ride bikes. Anyway, my father would get the car & drive to the front of the house and BINGO! there would be Betty Ring. Once my mother asked Betty how she knew just when to go out the door. Only someone a few feet next door would know--Betty said that Liza always raised the shade on the dining room window just before she left for work, so B. knew it was time to go. Wouldn't B.F. Skinner be proud?
Other road trips were the famous annual pilgrimages from Ill. to the Adirondacks. After summer school ended, though we later learned it was also after black fly season ended as well, we'd pack up, load up the car (early memories are of a 1957 turquoise Plymouth wagon with big fins and a 3rd seat facing the back, replaced by a 196-? purple Olds wagon that was huge and had round tailights and again, 3 seats). The dreaded day we left always started with my mother's hysteria: COME ON CHILDREN! TIME TO GET UP! She was out of control. Make lemondade (from frozen lemonade mix) in the green gallon jug, make soggy tuna sandwiches with a quart of mayo, shove them into a paper bag. Not to be touched until late in the trip. Once we got rolling she'd pass out the Dramamine. "Here, children, take your Dramamine so you won't get sick." As adults we figured out it had nothing to do with car sickness, it was the antihistamine in Dram. so we'd go to sleep. Henry always--ALWAYS got the "way back" and my sister and I shared the back seat. Sometimes the line of demarcation was half way down the middle, sometimes half way across. It was seldom a peaceful boundary--mostly because of me, I think. I was not good at sharing and I felt I could bully my sister.
We had a luggage rack (that's what they were called--this one was a metal box, open on the top) that my father covered with a tarp. Tarps were not blue plastic, they were really great, heavy and waterproof, brown, waxed and stiff canvas. The famous line, all 1000 miles of the trip was "The tarp's flapping." Spaulding never did get the hang of tying the tarp down so it wouldn't flap. We'd pull over to the side of the road and he'd fiddle with the rope to stop the flapping in THAT spot and we'd wait for the next flapping.
The famous story about a trip involves Molly's and my beloved plastic horses. We loved those horses pretty much more than the dogs. We were allowed to pick a few to take to camp, only as many as would fit in a cardboard box. Box was on top of car. On the thruway, you guesed it, the box FELL OFF. We were mortified and screamed "The horses!" Spaulding was really great (as I remember) and sympathetic, went back to get the box and handed it to us. We took each horse out, dreading whatever damage there might be to our beloveds. Can't remember which they were--Sheba, Sheik, Pride (mare), Joy (her foal), Chessie (short for Chesapeake, the palomino), Treasure (Molly's quarter horse), Reddy (my quarter horse--now proudly living on my window sill)--those must have been the favorites because I don't remember the rest. Anyway, all were safe. As I remember it, the whole plastic horse thing started when my father brought back Pride and Joy from one of his trips. Molly got Pride and I got Joy. It was when we lived in Urbana. It seemed he went on a lot of trips--later we learned he was trying to get a job. Must have been a hard time for them, but Liza, I think, made it a cheerful time for us.
We spent the night in Cleveland. Those stories are best left for another time. Like, about the aunt who gave us each $1 as a special treat, until I was the only one traveling with the family, then I got the whole $3. I think I was 16 by then.
There are other trips, good ones. I prefer to remember trips I enjoyed, I don't seem to remember ones that were unpleasant. At least not right now.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Just a snippet
Here's a quick look at my life these days. Today we're having a BIG storm. I came to work and stayed until the bitter end. Some people scurried home early--ohmygod what if the roads are so bad I'll never get home and they'll find my body in the spring. I'm even going to my friend's house now (5:00) to shower & visit. Not wise, perhaps, but I'm not known for wisdom about driving in bad weather. And yet I always figure it out. I like to wait until later because the plows and sanders will have worked on the roads and traffic will be light (or non-existent) so I won't have to dodge other drivers.
No, I still don't have water. I've almost got the house in shape and a path cleared to the bathroom so I can stand to have someone in my house and not be mortified at what they'll see. I'll have Steve help me/do it next week. One more weekend of cleaning should do it. Plus: the bonus of enjoying my house. even without running water.
No, I still don't have water. I've almost got the house in shape and a path cleared to the bathroom so I can stand to have someone in my house and not be mortified at what they'll see. I'll have Steve help me/do it next week. One more weekend of cleaning should do it. Plus: the bonus of enjoying my house. even without running water.
boy's toys
This is the equipment being used across and down the road from my driveway. One of the strangest and longest-lasting jobs I've ever seen. That's a skidder in the foreground--used to push the trees once they've been cut down. Makes a huge mess. Meant for anyone to be able to use--there is a picture of a bunny for the pedal to go fast, and a turtle to go slow. I kid you not. The big red machine is used to load logs into trucks and to pile them into big piles. We used to call it the lobster claw. It's called a loader, but so are a lot of other pieces of equipment--sort of a generic term, I think.
end result
This is a small, small fraction of the trees that have been cut off the lot. I keep wondering where the trees are coming from and people say "Just wait until you go to your camp this spring." They're joking, of course. yeah, that's right, joking. yeah.
home sweet home
I don't know, I just like this shot. Maybe because it shows my extra, extra wood--that's the wood I bought in the fall, my last resort wood that I probably (hopefully) won't need this year. That's 4 cords. $280 worth. used to cost $35/cord. Ken has a hard time with this. What are you going to do? It is what it is.
no, really
I like it this cold, no really, I do. It was 17 so I don't know why I look so cross. I'd just been for a nice half-hour walk with the dogs and we had a great time.
warmth
Favored place is next to the wood stove, of course. Chances beat Tess to the spot. something must be done
The Wall
This is the wall I look at from my couch. Pictures of: my family (me and my sister on the ferry to Vermont, several years ago), my brother (on the ferry to Block Island several years ago--what's with ferry pictures?), Jenica on the day we delivered her to college (with the roommate who arrived with a case of Evian, which made us raise our eyebrows), my mother as a young woman, me as a kindergartner, my father holding a chair for my grandfather to cane (with the perennial Camel unfiltered in his hand), one of my friend Duncan and Ken, one of Bill, Ken and me, one of Bill and me at Bill's camp in front of a fire several years ago, me sitting on the big rock by the boat house (taken by my cousin's ex-husband the photo-journalist--we've had many discussions about who's the better photographer, our cousin or her ex-husb.) Then there are the group shots--my Ill. friends and my family. Guess that's about it. 50 points if you can match the description with the image.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Nature Girl
In spite of what follows, I am not depressed. Nor do I feel overwhelmed or unable to handle the circumstances of my life. My life is what it is and I have it under control. I am sad, that's all.
A friend of mine killed himself Friday night. It was a huge surprise to everyone who knew him (as a friend--probably not to his wife and kids). He was at home, fixing his furnace with friends, went to the garage and shot himself. Of course everyone in the neighborhood has an idea about why he did it. Cocaine. Wife having an affair. Antidepressents mixed with alcohol. Seeing a psychiatrist, depressed. the list goes on. Whatever it was, I'm sorry he did it. He was a nice man and we always shared stories about his beagle Boomer. His obituary mentions his "special friend" Boomer.
Obituaries here are really strange/funny. Do other regions mention dogs as "special friends?" or say that the person enjoyed playing solitaire, or hummed a lot to herself, or laughed at the funnies, or crocheted booties better than anyone else? It's hard not to laugh at these. Bill, Fred and I long ago decided we would write our own obituaries. I do not want my "special friends" Tess and Chances mentioned in my obit, nor do I want it said that I enjoyed lying on my couch watching television or that I was know for having a messy house or that I never weeded my garden or that I was famous for getting my car stuck in the snow.
So. Ricky's suicide has been on my mind all weekend, saddens me, puzzles me, makes me think about people who commit suicide. I had a friend in Rockford who drove herself into her garage and inhaled carbon monoxide, but she'd been depressed pretty much all her life.
Anyway, Bill and I agreed, as always, that suicide is the most selfish and rudest act of all. Enough about that.
The other thing I have accepted and am pretty much used to is that I still have no water. This is week #3 and I have developed a good routine for dealing with it. Luckily I come to work 5 days a week--fill up water jugs, wash face, etc. And I get water from Ken (he doesn't like it when I shower there so I rarely do). I have a great friend B. who has invited me to shower at her house any time, any day. I had the best visit with her family last week. Her children are just wonderful, I adore them and they feel comfortable and relaxed with me. I can't believe they are old enough to be engaged and own a truck, but children do grow up.
The cause of the water problem is unknown (or, I assure you I would have water). I tried to look in the well to see if had any water in it, or if there were ice chunks blocking the foot valve. The the well cap is frozen solid on and I can't get it off, in spite of much boiling water and torching. I quit that project. The pump has lost its prime (this means pouring 14 gallons of water, about a tablespoon at a time, down a pipe about 100 feet to the well from the house) but I don't know why. I can't stand to make someone else deal with this so here I am. Steve (Ken's caregiver), who is a contractor and knows how to do just about anything, has offered to help. Last night I said I would accept his offer "when the weather breaks." That's vague enough, no? Yes, I'll get to it. It's just so unpleasant a task. Plus my house has been in such disarray that no one could walk to the cellar. I cleaned this weekend (just because you have no water doesn't mean you have to LIVE as if you have no water). I feel much better but there is more to do.
I can't complain about the weather because everyone has had subzero temps. This winter my house refuses to warm up. Friday morning it was cold, Sat. better, Sun. almost warm. Last night it was 67 and I almost opened the door to cool it off. Ken's house is 88-90 degrees and Steve and I sweat and suffocate and sneak the door open whenever Ken goes to the bathroom.
I have good wood and plenty of it this year, and am much more responsible about taking armloads into the house every time I go outside. A grown up! I'm acting like a grown up!
Today I will think about something amazing and wonderful but I am fearful that this wonderful man will never have a chance to be President. I have no faith in the Secret Service or the 25,000 law enforcement people there. I watched the pre-inaugural party, mostly to see Springsteen and U2 and to hear Obama's speech. He's amazing. Pete Seeger was there to lead everyone singing This Land is Your Land. He's very, very old. This made me feel old and sad. Anyway, Obama was wonderful, as always, and inspiring. It was funny when the singers kept telling the crowd to STAND UP! because that's what the thousands packed in there were doing--they had no choice.
Even the Starbucks girl is thrilled and will watch the inaug. with friends. We are having a luncheon here and have permission to watch it. I'd rather watch it alone at home but I decided to risk it and watch here. I'm afraid I'll get teary. For many reasons. I can't find it in me to be proud of my country for electing this man. I'm proud of this man for convincing people to vote for him. I still know people who will not watch, who are not pleased, who have grave misgivings, who don't want the country run by the NAACP.
Leroy the fish got stuck between the pump and the side of the tank this morning. I thought he was dead, but he survived. How long had he been like that? When will he die? He is a miracle fish, and fat and greedy like his namesake.
Authority work awaits. And cataloging. Like, the DVD Yummy in my Tummy.
I'm tired of hearing that "history is being made." It's not history to me, it's just what should be happening. The front page of our local paper is all black, with a giant picture of Obama in the middle. My friend Patty said "Think they're sending a message or something?"
A friend of mine killed himself Friday night. It was a huge surprise to everyone who knew him (as a friend--probably not to his wife and kids). He was at home, fixing his furnace with friends, went to the garage and shot himself. Of course everyone in the neighborhood has an idea about why he did it. Cocaine. Wife having an affair. Antidepressents mixed with alcohol. Seeing a psychiatrist, depressed. the list goes on. Whatever it was, I'm sorry he did it. He was a nice man and we always shared stories about his beagle Boomer. His obituary mentions his "special friend" Boomer.
Obituaries here are really strange/funny. Do other regions mention dogs as "special friends?" or say that the person enjoyed playing solitaire, or hummed a lot to herself, or laughed at the funnies, or crocheted booties better than anyone else? It's hard not to laugh at these. Bill, Fred and I long ago decided we would write our own obituaries. I do not want my "special friends" Tess and Chances mentioned in my obit, nor do I want it said that I enjoyed lying on my couch watching television or that I was know for having a messy house or that I never weeded my garden or that I was famous for getting my car stuck in the snow.
So. Ricky's suicide has been on my mind all weekend, saddens me, puzzles me, makes me think about people who commit suicide. I had a friend in Rockford who drove herself into her garage and inhaled carbon monoxide, but she'd been depressed pretty much all her life.
Anyway, Bill and I agreed, as always, that suicide is the most selfish and rudest act of all. Enough about that.
The other thing I have accepted and am pretty much used to is that I still have no water. This is week #3 and I have developed a good routine for dealing with it. Luckily I come to work 5 days a week--fill up water jugs, wash face, etc. And I get water from Ken (he doesn't like it when I shower there so I rarely do). I have a great friend B. who has invited me to shower at her house any time, any day. I had the best visit with her family last week. Her children are just wonderful, I adore them and they feel comfortable and relaxed with me. I can't believe they are old enough to be engaged and own a truck, but children do grow up.
The cause of the water problem is unknown (or, I assure you I would have water). I tried to look in the well to see if had any water in it, or if there were ice chunks blocking the foot valve. The the well cap is frozen solid on and I can't get it off, in spite of much boiling water and torching. I quit that project. The pump has lost its prime (this means pouring 14 gallons of water, about a tablespoon at a time, down a pipe about 100 feet to the well from the house) but I don't know why. I can't stand to make someone else deal with this so here I am. Steve (Ken's caregiver), who is a contractor and knows how to do just about anything, has offered to help. Last night I said I would accept his offer "when the weather breaks." That's vague enough, no? Yes, I'll get to it. It's just so unpleasant a task. Plus my house has been in such disarray that no one could walk to the cellar. I cleaned this weekend (just because you have no water doesn't mean you have to LIVE as if you have no water). I feel much better but there is more to do.
I can't complain about the weather because everyone has had subzero temps. This winter my house refuses to warm up. Friday morning it was cold, Sat. better, Sun. almost warm. Last night it was 67 and I almost opened the door to cool it off. Ken's house is 88-90 degrees and Steve and I sweat and suffocate and sneak the door open whenever Ken goes to the bathroom.
I have good wood and plenty of it this year, and am much more responsible about taking armloads into the house every time I go outside. A grown up! I'm acting like a grown up!
Today I will think about something amazing and wonderful but I am fearful that this wonderful man will never have a chance to be President. I have no faith in the Secret Service or the 25,000 law enforcement people there. I watched the pre-inaugural party, mostly to see Springsteen and U2 and to hear Obama's speech. He's amazing. Pete Seeger was there to lead everyone singing This Land is Your Land. He's very, very old. This made me feel old and sad. Anyway, Obama was wonderful, as always, and inspiring. It was funny when the singers kept telling the crowd to STAND UP! because that's what the thousands packed in there were doing--they had no choice.
Even the Starbucks girl is thrilled and will watch the inaug. with friends. We are having a luncheon here and have permission to watch it. I'd rather watch it alone at home but I decided to risk it and watch here. I'm afraid I'll get teary. For many reasons. I can't find it in me to be proud of my country for electing this man. I'm proud of this man for convincing people to vote for him. I still know people who will not watch, who are not pleased, who have grave misgivings, who don't want the country run by the NAACP.
Leroy the fish got stuck between the pump and the side of the tank this morning. I thought he was dead, but he survived. How long had he been like that? When will he die? He is a miracle fish, and fat and greedy like his namesake.
Authority work awaits. And cataloging. Like, the DVD Yummy in my Tummy.
I'm tired of hearing that "history is being made." It's not history to me, it's just what should be happening. The front page of our local paper is all black, with a giant picture of Obama in the middle. My friend Patty said "Think they're sending a message or something?"
Friday, January 16, 2009
boy howdy!
Well GOOD MORNING! This is what was going on in my living room this morning. Obviously I'm having some insulation issues this winter--the house has never been so consistently, foolishly cold.
It's not so bad going outside in this temp, as long as you're bundled up, moving, and don't have to stay out long. I brought in 3 loads of wood, fed the birds, loaded the laundry into the car. My nose hairs froze, of course.
Last night when I got home (from my good friend's house, where I took a shower and visited with her family and had a really, really nice time) the sky was totally clear. The stars were, as usual, amazing.
It's not so bad going outside in this temp, as long as you're bundled up, moving, and don't have to stay out long. I brought in 3 loads of wood, fed the birds, loaded the laundry into the car. My nose hairs froze, of course.
Last night when I got home (from my good friend's house, where I took a shower and visited with her family and had a really, really nice time) the sky was totally clear. The stars were, as usual, amazing.
cure for everything
And here's what you do! It's pretty simple but a lot of work to make it really effective. This is what's inside of my wood stove. You have to keep stoking it to keep the temp way up before you can see any progress at all.
The house was 55 when I left, 3 hours later. I thought that was pretty good. The sun was shining, which will make a huge difference--we faced the house in good solar light and there are big windows on the south side of the living room.
The house was 55 when I left, 3 hours later. I thought that was pretty good. The sun was shining, which will make a huge difference--we faced the house in good solar light and there are big windows on the south side of the living room.
Larry the Lobster
I like to have a mobile hanging from the ceiling--there's a cathedral ceiling in the living room. I've had several different ones. I made this one from wooden Christmas tree ornaments and a branch. It's sort of silly why I like having a mobile--I like to watch the lobsters float around (like, dreamily, to be a total gushball) when the warm air rises. This is dumb because it's not a good thing--it means that my warm air is going upstairs and the cold air is staying on the couch with me. But I enjoy things like this.
subzero jan 09 013
This is the shadow I see when I'm sitting on my couch, looking up. That's the shadow of an icicle on the right. They're starting to build up, which is both exciting and demoralizing. They look like dangerous weapons. And they are--twice icicles have broken my electric meter when they fell off the roof. I try to keep the dogs away from the drop zone when melting time starts.
subzero jan 09 030
Stopping by the roadside on a snowy morning. apologies to Robert Frost.
Every tree along the river was covered in rime ice this morning. It's hard to describe the sense you get when you see this. It's like the body of Michael Pollard in the movie Scrooged. Gray, yet the whitest white. The pines look really great but it's hard to get a picture of them.
Every tree along the river was covered in rime ice this morning. It's hard to describe the sense you get when you see this. It's like the body of Michael Pollard in the movie Scrooged. Gray, yet the whitest white. The pines look really great but it's hard to get a picture of them.
subzero jan 09 034
It was quiet when I shot this. The only sound was the water flowing. I'm so lucky to live here. I like this one because it shows the slush in the foreground. That's the cargo the river has right now.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
buhund
The AKC has added 3 new breeds. One isn't very interesting--the red and white irish setter--sort of like a pinto irish setter.
The other 2 are sort of bizarre. Here's the Norwegian buhund. Pretty muttly looking, no? Here's part of the description from the AKC:
"The Buhund has a lot of energy, strength and stamina. This self-appointed watch dog is also content lying at your feet at the end of the day. Broken teeth and honorable scars incurred in the line of herding duty are acceptable."
This means that it's ok if you show a dog with broken teeth and scars. Which is NOT ok if your dog is a pit bull or Rotweiller. But you can only show the broken-toothed dog if he broke them while he was herding, not while catching stones. Anyway, for some reason this dog reminds me of my sister's dog.
The other 2 are sort of bizarre. Here's the Norwegian buhund. Pretty muttly looking, no? Here's part of the description from the AKC:
"The Buhund has a lot of energy, strength and stamina. This self-appointed watch dog is also content lying at your feet at the end of the day. Broken teeth and honorable scars incurred in the line of herding duty are acceptable."
This means that it's ok if you show a dog with broken teeth and scars. Which is NOT ok if your dog is a pit bull or Rotweiller. But you can only show the broken-toothed dog if he broke them while he was herding, not while catching stones. Anyway, for some reason this dog reminds me of my sister's dog.
shepherd
This one is the Pyrenean shepherd. I looked for a picture of the merle color because they can have blue eyes. I don't like blue eyes in a dog. The merle ones look really strange. Heck, they all look sort of strange. Here's my favorite part of the official description of the breed:
"The Pyr Shep is naturally distrustful of strangers, but when well-socialized from a young age, he or she has a very lively, cheerful disposition."
Sounds like the perfect dog for a house with kittens and small children
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
another day
Can one day make a difference? I feel better today. Last night Ken reminded me that problems always have a way of solving themselves. Though I know problems often need help being solved, he and I have repeated these words of wisdom to each other countless times during the past 10 years. He also likes to say "There's no time like the present" when there's a chore to do. I like to say "Why do today what you can do tomorrow." That makes him shake his head.
Yes, today I feel better prepared to deal with whatever there is. Well, for me, I mean--I couldn't get to the TV fast enough to delete Ann Coulter this morning. Although we all know Obama is a communist, did we know Rush Limbaugh's life is in grave danger and Obama's life is in no danger at all?
Even though we're supposedly facing the end of the world, otherwise known as a big storm, tonight through Thursday, and in tandem with my old standby Dr. Rubin, I'm standing tall. Like Chuck Connors in The Rifleman (ooooh, that Johnny Crawford was cute). Now I'm back to my previous winter mantra of "It's not the cold that bothers me, it's the snow." I had reversed that during the days that I couldn't get my house warmer than 54. My house is a toasty 62 once I crank the wood stove up, though it was 51 when I got home last night. Oddly, I'm used to that temp and can (almost) stand it. I don't like it when my nose is cold, I'm not crazy--I know that's a sign that I've gone too far with this Nancy of the North business.
Must now be creative and think of useful (not just fascinating or personally entertaining) websites to link from our website. Plus something someone might actually care about for the CEFLS blog. Which, so far, no one has read.
Yes, today I feel better prepared to deal with whatever there is. Well, for me, I mean--I couldn't get to the TV fast enough to delete Ann Coulter this morning. Although we all know Obama is a communist, did we know Rush Limbaugh's life is in grave danger and Obama's life is in no danger at all?
Even though we're supposedly facing the end of the world, otherwise known as a big storm, tonight through Thursday, and in tandem with my old standby Dr. Rubin, I'm standing tall. Like Chuck Connors in The Rifleman (ooooh, that Johnny Crawford was cute). Now I'm back to my previous winter mantra of "It's not the cold that bothers me, it's the snow." I had reversed that during the days that I couldn't get my house warmer than 54. My house is a toasty 62 once I crank the wood stove up, though it was 51 when I got home last night. Oddly, I'm used to that temp and can (almost) stand it. I don't like it when my nose is cold, I'm not crazy--I know that's a sign that I've gone too far with this Nancy of the North business.
Must now be creative and think of useful (not just fascinating or personally entertaining) websites to link from our website. Plus something someone might actually care about for the CEFLS blog. Which, so far, no one has read.
mine, no mine
My sister knows the significance of this.
It's a joke between us. "Let's use my silver water pitcher." "No, let's use MY silver water pitcher."
It's a joke between us. "Let's use my silver water pitcher." "No, let's use MY silver water pitcher."
special fish
Jenica and Molly know the significance of this.
It's a special ceramic fish, different from the rest, and sits in front of my mother's plate during lobster dinners.
It's a special ceramic fish, different from the rest, and sits in front of my mother's plate during lobster dinners.
Monday, January 05, 2009
wisc july 08 132
The woman on the left, who is truly one of the most cheerful and kindest people I know, had a brain bleed last week. She's moving from intensive care today. Neurosurgeon says her "recovery" may take anywhere from 6 months to 2 years. How far she'll recover we don't know. Right now she can blink, squeeze hands... They did a tracheatomy so she could get off the respirator.
I try not to be one of those people who minimizes her issues by thinking how hard it is for other people. My life isn't great these days, and maybe Joanne's situation is the final blow--I have no water, my friend Ken is falling apart, it's cold, blahblahblah. I hate to ask for help but can't get to the well to figure out what's wrong. I don't seem to feel worthy of having running water but I know that's foolish.
Don't feel sorry for me, I always work through my struggles. I want my friend to recover but I know that my 2 friends, one here and one far away will never be the same. Which is why maybe I don't care if I never have running water again. And, of course, I'm depressed.
So I'm taking a stroll down 2008's memory lane. Good things happened and it was nice.
I try not to be one of those people who minimizes her issues by thinking how hard it is for other people. My life isn't great these days, and maybe Joanne's situation is the final blow--I have no water, my friend Ken is falling apart, it's cold, blahblahblah. I hate to ask for help but can't get to the well to figure out what's wrong. I don't seem to feel worthy of having running water but I know that's foolish.
Don't feel sorry for me, I always work through my struggles. I want my friend to recover but I know that my 2 friends, one here and one far away will never be the same. Which is why maybe I don't care if I never have running water again. And, of course, I'm depressed.
So I'm taking a stroll down 2008's memory lane. Good things happened and it was nice.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Not close to being ready for the future
I'm don't think I can confess the full details of my New Year's Eve, but I do know I have to stay away from open bars at social gatherings. It was a wonderful party and I got to visit with lake people I like being with and being known by. I just hope I'm not known as The Girl Who Can Drink a Whole Bottle of Vodka.
Anyway, since I remember the whole evening I'm sure I was fine. I had a great talk with one man/couple who don't socialize that much. He's a staunch Democrat and gave $500 to Howard Dean's campaign when H. was running last time. I enjoyed visiting with him & we talked almost exclusively about the excitement of an Obama future. His wife went to Penn. to campaign--door-to-door, phone banks, stuffing envelopes. I told her how much I admired & envied her. And I really meant it, wishing I'd gone too. He also told stories of his golf cronies in Fla. (at a golf club with a membership fee of $250,000--I am always impressed by the amounts of money these people have) and how awful they are about an African American president.
Anyway, I'm totally zonked by this weather--5 days of subzero, after a nice break in RI spent with such nice people in such a nice place with sparkling blue-gray water and lobsters and good visits. I got totally depressed en route to work today. Yesterday I spent feeding a greedy wood stove, trying to get the living room at least close to 60 degrees. By midnight I succeeded, but I started at 8 a.m., when the temp was 47. I ask--is this a way to live? The plant in my bedroom froze long ago. The low temp in my house while I was away was 37 degrees. Average temps there these days are 50s where I sit to watch TV. I ask--is this a way to live? Last night in bed, almost shivering because I didn't have the heat on in the bedroom all day so by midnight it was too late to get it warm (poor kitty) I amended my firm and oft-uttered stand that the cold doesn't bother me, it's the snow I have a problem with. OK, I choose to live here and I can get through this. I'm just feeling depressed, suffering a lot, and TIRED of this. I know that the walls of my house got too cold while I was away and I just need to workworkwork hard to get them warm again. I can do this, oh yes I can. Please: none of you are to tell me that I need to live somewhere else. I like living here (or so I keep telling myself).
Last night I watched Mama Mia! on DVD. It was ok, the best part of course was the music. The worst part was watching Pierce Brosnan sing (I use the term loosely). I really don't like musicals. No, I REALLY don't like them. I like ABBA songs, though. Meryl Streep looks goofy in a musical, but at least she can sing. The scenery is pretty (especially when you're sitting in 50-degree comfort. no, wait, I promised no more of that).
Probably part of my state of mind is the sudden and critical brain bleed of one of my dear Illinois friends. One of the reunion women. The "good news" is that she squeezed someone's hand and opened her eyes briefly. I keep picturing her smiling face--she's one of the most cheerful people I've known in my life, always happy and smiling. We're all hoping for the best, but I don't think we can imagine what's really going to happen.
Another situation I'm trying to accept is, of course, Ken's continuing weakness. He's walking with a walker, is an invalid and has Steve, wonderful Steve staying with him all day. His kidneys are not functioning fully and I think he's headed for congestive heart failure. Doubtless this will drag on for too long a time. He has visits from the county nurse a couple of times a week. I stop every night after work but he sleeps a lot while I'm there and it ends up being a nice visit with Steve. Ken still says "You'd better! stop tomorrow night" so I know he enjoys having me there.
If anyone was feeling even slightly cheery and had hope for the new year, I guess I've done my part to blonk them right out of that. Sorry. But truly, don't worry, I've weathered many storms and will get through this. sniff, sniff. If I can get myself to clear a path to my kitchen this weekend I'll consider it a great victory. wish me luck. And don't forget that I have the 2 best dogs, who, along with Kuruma make up the World's Most Fabulous quadrapeds.
Anyway, since I remember the whole evening I'm sure I was fine. I had a great talk with one man/couple who don't socialize that much. He's a staunch Democrat and gave $500 to Howard Dean's campaign when H. was running last time. I enjoyed visiting with him & we talked almost exclusively about the excitement of an Obama future. His wife went to Penn. to campaign--door-to-door, phone banks, stuffing envelopes. I told her how much I admired & envied her. And I really meant it, wishing I'd gone too. He also told stories of his golf cronies in Fla. (at a golf club with a membership fee of $250,000--I am always impressed by the amounts of money these people have) and how awful they are about an African American president.
Anyway, I'm totally zonked by this weather--5 days of subzero, after a nice break in RI spent with such nice people in such a nice place with sparkling blue-gray water and lobsters and good visits. I got totally depressed en route to work today. Yesterday I spent feeding a greedy wood stove, trying to get the living room at least close to 60 degrees. By midnight I succeeded, but I started at 8 a.m., when the temp was 47. I ask--is this a way to live? The plant in my bedroom froze long ago. The low temp in my house while I was away was 37 degrees. Average temps there these days are 50s where I sit to watch TV. I ask--is this a way to live? Last night in bed, almost shivering because I didn't have the heat on in the bedroom all day so by midnight it was too late to get it warm (poor kitty) I amended my firm and oft-uttered stand that the cold doesn't bother me, it's the snow I have a problem with. OK, I choose to live here and I can get through this. I'm just feeling depressed, suffering a lot, and TIRED of this. I know that the walls of my house got too cold while I was away and I just need to workworkwork hard to get them warm again. I can do this, oh yes I can. Please: none of you are to tell me that I need to live somewhere else. I like living here (or so I keep telling myself).
Last night I watched Mama Mia! on DVD. It was ok, the best part of course was the music. The worst part was watching Pierce Brosnan sing (I use the term loosely). I really don't like musicals. No, I REALLY don't like them. I like ABBA songs, though. Meryl Streep looks goofy in a musical, but at least she can sing. The scenery is pretty (especially when you're sitting in 50-degree comfort. no, wait, I promised no more of that).
Probably part of my state of mind is the sudden and critical brain bleed of one of my dear Illinois friends. One of the reunion women. The "good news" is that she squeezed someone's hand and opened her eyes briefly. I keep picturing her smiling face--she's one of the most cheerful people I've known in my life, always happy and smiling. We're all hoping for the best, but I don't think we can imagine what's really going to happen.
Another situation I'm trying to accept is, of course, Ken's continuing weakness. He's walking with a walker, is an invalid and has Steve, wonderful Steve staying with him all day. His kidneys are not functioning fully and I think he's headed for congestive heart failure. Doubtless this will drag on for too long a time. He has visits from the county nurse a couple of times a week. I stop every night after work but he sleeps a lot while I'm there and it ends up being a nice visit with Steve. Ken still says "You'd better! stop tomorrow night" so I know he enjoys having me there.
If anyone was feeling even slightly cheery and had hope for the new year, I guess I've done my part to blonk them right out of that. Sorry. But truly, don't worry, I've weathered many storms and will get through this. sniff, sniff. If I can get myself to clear a path to my kitchen this weekend I'll consider it a great victory. wish me luck. And don't forget that I have the 2 best dogs, who, along with Kuruma make up the World's Most Fabulous quadrapeds.
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