Thursday, March 14, 2024

change

This is only my third evening home, but already I'm looking to my right to see my partner. And he's not here. I can sense him, feel him, almost hear him. He'd be asleep, sitting up. It's a sweet but troubling sound. He's taking the "intervention" sleep study tonight, to set him up with the proper care. 

He had an early evening meal of beef barley soup I'd put up in the freezer, along with some crusty bread.

I cooked my butt off the past many days (once my sister was home from hospital), enjoyed every moment of the work, and actually tasted very little of my efforts. I'm pretty familiar with the methods by now, and tend to leave any extra salt and pepper to the diners. I did have some of the Guinness stew, and some of the butter chicken, and a piece of the pork tenderloin. (I'm not complaining. This wasn't for me!)

Mike had some delicious lasagna for my first night home, with plenty of leftovers, which we gobbled up last night. There aren't any leftovers in the house. From the cheap seats here, that's an abomination! It also means I at the very least offered a larder which was used and appreciated, which isn't a small satisfaction. He can fend very well for himself, but damn I love that man. 

My sister, when she was visiting in August and October, called my refrigerator "Jenga" because you can imagine why. Some of you have been here. You know. 

You also know that I get antsy when I can see the back of the fridge at every shelf. It's unholy. We're druid labs We are always prepared to entertain! 

Since the plague we haven't entertained. It's unlikely we'll do so in the near future. And future means something different than when we were in our 50s, or 40s. As we hover around our 70s (I am the younger one thank you!) a new focus emerges. What's next for us? What's this last part going to be?

Wednesday, February 28, 2024

wind

Rainy and windy here. In my sweet little room, fluffy doodle puppy on the sofa-soon-to-be-bed next to me (I checked that it's allowed). I haven't yet seen the ocean. It'll be breezy tomorrow and overcast. When I was in high school, if I didn't have basketball or track practice afterwards, or a school newspaper meeting, I would change from my school uniform, grab a baggie of ice cubes, and walk the half-mile to the ocean from our house. Once or twice I fell asleep while watching the waves, the sand cradling my teenage self. Once I fell asleep in sunshine, and woke in overcast and wind. Being by the sea, from whence all of us, is home.

I remember sitting in our house during hurricanes, listening to the storm windows whistle and the siding groan. Watching the water forced through the sealed windows. Feeling the roof lift, just a bit. As soon as there was a lull in the gale, my folks would pile everyone in the car to see how bad the damage was at Ocean Avenue by the bridge. Boardwalk still there? Half the time it was, miraculously. I remember our papergirl delivering the Asbury Park Press by rowboat. The bay was just 300 feet away and often closer than that during storms. Close enough to come halfway up our driveway.

This isn't a hurricane. It's not even a nor'easter. But right now there's a freakin' doodle puppy leaning against my arm, asleep. One of his favorite poses is with his head/neck on the floor and his fluffy butt up in the air. I can't resist that. You can't either. Cool air is coming through the tiny bit of open window, and I can hear the rain.

Before I left the hospital tonight I gave my sister a colossal gentle backrub/gentle scratch, followed by cool washcloth soothing, followed by gentle lotion application. It is my honor to care for my sister. She is a hero in my eyes and in my heart. And I am delighted to take the pressure off her children, most of whom are raising littles, toddlers, and infants, with a few more to come this year. Seeing my niece and nephews as adults has been life-changing and I love all of them as much as when they were babies. Scratch that. More. Seeing them thrive brings me to my knees with gratitude. 

This isn't Eden, and lives aren't magical. The puppy snores a bit. I've been wanting to stop at the pizza place just over the bridge but solo pizza isn't my jam. A solo slice in NYC is a snack on the run. Here, it's just sad.

Also, 15" toilets are an abomination. Prove me wrong, anyone over 5'5" with less-than-good knees. Over and out.   

Sunday, February 25, 2024

drive

I might as well be in my hometown. It's just across the bridge. Along the main roads it can get hard to recognize the place, but in the neighborhoods stand my childhood classmates homes, not new then, and still homey. Close together, tended yards, narrow streets, children. Different styles and different sizes. I remember being intrigued at other people's homes, especially those older than ours (which had some very nice craftsman details, but was not in the least grand). Leaded windows, multiple staircases. The distinct smell of a long time in place.

I'm driving my sisters Soul. (It's a lot newer than my cars, and it's got technology!) It's nimble and spry. Smart, clean, delightful. It feels familiar, and I only had to adjust the rear view mirror a little. Contoured hatch window, distorting the view a bit. But who cares when backup cameras, right?

She's in Jersey Shore blah blah blah, the same hospital where we were born. Nasty infection requiring intervention. Long time to diagnose, which has left her a bit off kilter and weak. Her children are as attentive as they can be, considering that they are making and rearing children of their own at the moment. Life goes on. This sister has nothing but time. Flights ensue.

I had to navigate the Asbury Circle several times today, and a few of those attempts were simply to exit it. It's not easy. It's shaped like a twisted, tormented, ghastly dying kidney, and there are about eighteen lanes of NJ traffic, all of which magically have the right-of-way, and which require criss-crossing to exit, which can be dicey. Hence my loop-di-loops.

One last pickup at the house and back to the hospital with provisions for my sister, who was sleeping, blessedly sleeping, soundly and beautifully. I sat beside her for a good while until she woke, and waited for another good while until she got the cobwebs out. Helped her eat, decide on medication for the night (tylenol as she's still hurting a bit), and after a few hours, packed up and said goodnight. Long walk to the car in a dimly-lit parking lot, trying to remember what my sister's Soul looks like.

I walked up to the wrong vehicle first. Then I turned around and there she was. It's just a short ride from the hospital to my sister's house. But the way back, especially at night, is sweetness: the last moment of the drive is over the Shark River, on a narrow, well-lighted bridge, navigating my sister's Soul to her home. The lights on the water are magical. The water is magical. And just up there, first driveway on the left, is home.

Wednesday, January 31, 2024

edgar allan poe

Eddie died today. It's weird to write that. Yes, he died, but we didn't make it happen. Or did we? This is the first time ever in my life that a pet of mine died on me without veterinary intervention. That sounds so clinical. 

Dying must be easy. Every thing and every body does it (as far as I know - jellyfish might actually be immortal, though not in the individual sense, but whatever). It takes no special talent. I have a little cactus out on the deck rail that would tell you all of this, without mentioning that I left it out there during an ice storm and deep freeze. It's dead, after all, or at least I hope so for its own sake.

Last summer I put it outside as I usually do. When I brought it in in October, it unleashed a plague of gnats. Gnats which seemed to gravitate toward my laptop screen.

The plant had been a gift. A gift from a friend and the young, troubled child she was taking to Disneyland when the girl made her grades as promised. The child who went to Disneyland was an absolute entitled beast to my friend who took her there. Chalk that up to learning no manners because of intermittent homelessness, sketchy 'step dads', mom who doesn't care, and open drug use in the family. I'd nursed this cute little cactus along for eight years or so. I didn't want a houseplant. Because cats.

So this sweet little cactus. I don't think its dying was easy. Certainly wasn't voluntary. I'll admit the neglect, and I'll also admit that it was an unwanted gift, without apology.

Our little Edgar Allan Poe never bothered the cactus, because he was enormously fat back in those days and couldn't get up on the kitchen counters. Over the course of the next 5 years or so, we took 18+ lbs. off him, carefully, slowly, with our vets' instructions. And we had to make 'steps' for him to get to his food in the MIL kitchen.

Age caught up with him, and his kidneys started to slow down. We changed his diet to lower the protein load. His appetite decreased, we lured him with Churu (which worked for a day) and although we gave him lots of subcutaneous fluids, his body was tired.

The body knows. I am sorry I disturbed him today with fluids. He died within 45 minutes of that last ministration, and not as peacefully as one would hope. 

Forgive me, Edgar, I chose you and I will always love you. And forgive me cactus, but there is only so much I am willing to do.       

 

 

 

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

remind me every day

It weighs a helluva lot to carry judgment about someone you don't even know. And it's a long time. You'll want to laugh and cry, maybe both at the same time, when you realize how wrong you were, and put it down. Practice letting go every day. About every one and every thing. Meet others where they are. Every. Day.

Tuesday, April 25, 2023

smiley

Things that became apparent on my recent runaway:

My eyes need checked. Not sure what's going on, but there's a lot of weird excitement in my visual field, not impacting distance vision. Reading the screen is a bit trippy.

Time zone changes suck for the sleep-challenged. And everyone else, I guess. So, never mind.

Vast temperature changes while changing time zones isn't pleasant. Bless the hosts who can tolerate your tantrums. Better yet, don't throw tantrums and be grateful, you miserable freeloader!

My family rocks hard! Three freaking generations of 'em! (And they all have A/C.) Grand-whatevers of any kind are so cool, even if you're not related.

My friends rock equally hard. Yeah, we're old. Except Carlene, which is par for the course. Some might drive a few hours each way just for a dinner with you. Some of them will travel hundreds of miles to walk in an oak grove during a thunderstorm with you. Who does that? The kind of people who will share their trauma with you and not talk about how much bourbon was imbibed, that's who.

Biggest lesson: People need us. Be there! We're friends, right? Let's show up more often. Lend an ear or even a distracting voice. Bring laughter! Food works too. (I wouldn't mind Thai...) Check before sending chocolate, though. Believe it or not, there are some people out there who honestly cannot eat it and be well. IKR? (Mike can, though, so send that shite here.)

I need to step up my communications with everyone. Still hate the phone, though, so I'm thinking voice messages. (Hey, sit down and listen to my crap for a moment! Yeah, that's not catchy.) Not gonna call Charlie, though, and I know he won't call me. Mohamed might mind, but it's all good. He'll still send a holiday card. This time, to the proper address, twelve years after we told them we'd moved.

Who's on your smile list?




Friday, January 27, 2023

doing girl stuff

Last spring while walking pups, we passed through our former neighborhood, exchanging pleasantries, as you do. One of those neighbors, a widow, was having her shingle roof replaced. She was nervous and unsure, and turned to us and said "Sometimes it's nice to have a man around to make these decisions." We assured her it looked like she did just fine, and continued on our walk. 

I remember her husband, and I have no doubt he made all the decisions. But that's not why this has stuck with me. She is unsure of herself, of her decision making. I don't think that's any way to live. 

Now there are lots of things that are beyond my ken in this house - the computer network for one, including the music server. I get confused with my phone, or with a device or app, and usually I can figure it out on my own, but the truth is, I sleep with tech support, so there you go. Today's consultation was about why my phone was in night mode, and why the color was turned off. I hate updates, and it had to be an update, because I didn't even KNOW about some of those settings.

My car (the 16-year-old BBuggy) needs regular service. I know this because every time I drive, there's a reminder. Having trouble remembering to make the call, or maybe trying to slow down the heat that is coming at our Discover card with vet bills and such. But more than that, it needs new tires, and has for a while. It's on its second set at 114k miles. Bought the recents in 2013. 

Anyway, this can't wait. Thank you CR membership; did my research, figured out which tire I wanted and which size, called the local Schwab shop and asked if they could order. First guy said he couldn't find them (and recommended an equivalent for $100 more each but which also came with lifetime "service" which isn't a bad deal, but.) So I found them, and for convenience sake I called Schwab to see if they could source them for me. Yes, they could, at $300 more than having them delivered here. And sadly they could not accept a customer's order. So now this a no brainer. Though having four tires delivered to the house might turn out to not have been the brightest idea. 

Ladies, we are capable. We are smart. Some of us, like me, are cheap. And oh yeah, and we can read. It's probably our greatest superpower. Anyway I was just doing Girl Stuff, right?

  

Friday, January 20, 2023

is it my turn yet?

Most of my life I've made it a point to accommodate others. 

Mom needed help. I accommodated my siblings who weren't able to see to it, and moved 800 miles away from my wonderful home, neighbors, and community. While caring for Mom I didn't have the opportunity to form a community, but that was somewhat mitigated by my community of imaginary internet friends. 

After Mom died there wasn't much for us there, so we decided to skip town. It's almost 18 years later. 

I accommodated my brother-in-law's grief, when it actually turned out to be rage directed at me. (I didn't even realize it at the time. I guess that hospice training worked!) I accommodate the frustration of folks whose life stories and handicaps aren't mine, even when it comes at me like anger. I don't react and escalate. In other words, I eat it. There is no longer any will on my part to engage in passive-aggressive communications that come at me, and isolating myself from that just makes me the loser.

I had a teacher once who said that the end of her life, she would like to think that she had been "well used." To have been of service to those who sought her kinship and counsel. That notion resonated with me, and I like to think that's how I move through the world.

Turns out this might be a one-way street. 

And I'm just realizing it now. 

 

 

Saturday, December 10, 2022

the return of the rains and other happy things

The rains have returned. It's early December. A little late. 

However, the nice thing is that I did not have to weed too much in November. Oh, you happy cold-winter folks, or dry-winter folks (where is this?). The shotweed is rampant. Already. As are the grasses growing in the garden beds. It's time to weed, people. Between the field stones on the steps down to the lawn. In the garden beds. Holy hell, in the garden beds. Please. Someone.

There is some sort of alien thing growing near or on our property line in the back. There are two branches growing straight up. Not a single node on either one yet. Verdict: dead, as soon as we can get past the Himalayan blackberry canes (and kill them) that are close to 10 feet tall cascading over the salal. Oh, and that volunteer bitter cherry? Dead.

We're not going to scorch earth until all the fruit is gone. And there's a lot of fruit. Oregon grape, evergreen huckleberry(not touching that as it fruits well), salal (one of Zoey's favorite snacks while walking the path around the house), wild roses (not much fruit and we're okay with them staying); cotoneaster which is poisonous in large quantities, and which some birds eat, but which is sprawling in an unfortunate place; and though the twin berries are long gone, it's time to trim the canes. Reproduce and prosper. Or don't. Druid labs is BOOT CAMP! Gotta move the hebes and maybe the weeping rosemary out of the walkway eventually. To where? 

In the meantime my neighbor, who has coaxed and cultivated a half-acre shade garden (have you been to Marina's house?) including a grotto, a few dry creeks, a fairy-castle sculpted from several adjacent Doug-firs which were strangling each other (and which includes secret doorways and lighted towers) is mourning the changes required for installing a new septic field, as hers has reached its natural age limit. She is mourning her sanctuary. I am hoping we friends can help her dig up what she wishes to save and then help her sculpt her garden back to its new incarnation. 

Many folks I know are sick with flu or COVID or something else. So far we're good. Looks like I dodged a bullet when taking the Coho ferry back from Vic. One juicy cough heard and my mask went back on. I don't remember a lot about the crossing. It was dark, and I was dreading the drive home on 101 from Port Angeles to PT. Turns out it was dry, no rain or snow, and the traffic was light enough that I decided to take 20 up to Four Corners Road. That stretch of 20 can be treacherous. I'd talked myself into the horror of the drive back in the dark, but remembered that I can embody grim determination. 

More importantly it reminded me that I am still competent. The past few years of lockdown have kept me from a lot of activity - which I truly don't mind - but at my age I have fears that I am no longer relevant. Which, of course, I am not. But I am still a force.  

Not likely to take a cross country drive solo again, though I wish to see my friends. Who has an extra car to lend me if I fly in?

Sunday, September 04, 2022

what up

A week from tomorrow I'm having surgery. This is only the second time I've volunteered for such a thing, and it's essentially the same equipment: tubes tied decades ago, time for the plumbing to come out. My health history places me at increased risk of ovarian cancer, and the hormone blocker I'm taking for breast cancer tends to thin bones. Without my uterus, I can take another blocker that will build my bones. So it's a win/win, but mostly peace of mind.

But it's elective. "Hysterectomy" sounds so harsh. 

Later this year, if possible, I'll be electing once again to undergo the knife. That will be to fix up the minor mess that is my chest, after last year's bilateral mastectomy. It will involve at least one drain. Not exactly looking forward to that but again, it will solve a lot of little aggravations and worries. 

Elective. And "plastic surgery" sounds so ridiculously not me. 

But there you have it. In case you were wondering.