Saturday, September 29, 2007
Generosity
I have such generous pets. Phoebe brought me this for lunch. Not everyone gets to study their fears in such detail and go head to head with them. It used to be that a snake would cause me to embarrass myself by yelping and running into the house. So the cats started bringing snakes into the house to help me with this phobia, always when B. is not around. This time I just got out the long BBQ tongs and did what I had to. Darned thing struck at the tongs the whole way to the tub - creepy. Kinda a cute little bugger though, once he isn't slithering around the family room. Took it to the woods and dumped it. Thank-you Phoebe for taking my fears to a whole new level (yes, she's brought snakes onto my bed before).
Getting a handle on Lasik
I've been on dry eye sites the past week, as allergies and stress have caused my dry eye to become intolerable. I never realized that dry eye could be so life changing and traumatic. Imagine getting dirt kicked in both of your eyes and not being able to get it out. Eye drops every half hour or so. A feeling of irritation that never goes away. Being unable to watch TV, use the computer or read because of the irritation. Knowing that your eyes will dry out overnight to the point where you have a hard time even prying them open in the morning.
I know I should go to the eye doctor, but I would much rather try natural, noninvasive remedies before going to punctal plugs and prescription eyedrops. So I found a site www.dryeyezone.com that is excellent. I realized that by using so many eyedrops I was actually drying my eyes out more - that the problem is with the lack if an oil layer on my eyes, causing the tears to dissipate too soon. Most people with dry eye have this problem and don't realize it. Putting warm compresses on the eyes and then cleaning the eyelids with a Q-tip helps loosen clogged oil glands in the eyes. I was doing hot water compresses, but that dried the eyes more. Then I learned you can put a cup of dry rice in a knee-high stocking, tie it off and nuke for 20 seconds. The dry rice holds the heat and you have a really cheap hot-pad that conforms to the shape of your face and eyes. I had an old pair of trouser socks I used, and got some bargain rice for 50¢. I've been using that the past couple of days and it works perfectly.
I also learned that the drug Singulair is non-drying for allergies because it isn't antihistamine, it is more of autoimmune reaction in the body. And Flonase spray really helps eye allergies without drying the eyes. So I am getting my allergies under control without the drying that comes with claritin. And my eyes feel good today. Not great, but good is a wonderful thing for now. It takes a lot of extra effort at night and in the morning, but now that the MIL is gone, I have the time and energy to take care of myself. Gradually things are coming together, and I believe that in a few months to a year I'll be one of those who cautiously recommends Lasik to her friends.
I know I should go to the eye doctor, but I would much rather try natural, noninvasive remedies before going to punctal plugs and prescription eyedrops. So I found a site www.dryeyezone.com that is excellent. I realized that by using so many eyedrops I was actually drying my eyes out more - that the problem is with the lack if an oil layer on my eyes, causing the tears to dissipate too soon. Most people with dry eye have this problem and don't realize it. Putting warm compresses on the eyes and then cleaning the eyelids with a Q-tip helps loosen clogged oil glands in the eyes. I was doing hot water compresses, but that dried the eyes more. Then I learned you can put a cup of dry rice in a knee-high stocking, tie it off and nuke for 20 seconds. The dry rice holds the heat and you have a really cheap hot-pad that conforms to the shape of your face and eyes. I had an old pair of trouser socks I used, and got some bargain rice for 50¢. I've been using that the past couple of days and it works perfectly.
I also learned that the drug Singulair is non-drying for allergies because it isn't antihistamine, it is more of autoimmune reaction in the body. And Flonase spray really helps eye allergies without drying the eyes. So I am getting my allergies under control without the drying that comes with claritin. And my eyes feel good today. Not great, but good is a wonderful thing for now. It takes a lot of extra effort at night and in the morning, but now that the MIL is gone, I have the time and energy to take care of myself. Gradually things are coming together, and I believe that in a few months to a year I'll be one of those who cautiously recommends Lasik to her friends.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Survived
8:36am, I just watched B and the MIL drive down the driveway going to the airport. Her stuff is gone except for some stray bits of consumables here and there that would leak in her suitcase. Brian spent most of last evening calming her down so she could finish packing - she was convinced nothing would fit. Brian had to go over every detail of what would happen when they went to the airport (like he did in spring) and I still think she didn't sleep last night. She seemed eager to get back to the hot weather down there and the pool in her community she likes to exercise in.
Wow, 3 1/2 months. It was a marathon. I can't believe we made it through. And that she didn't snap and kill us in our sleep. I don't even know how to feel. Tired, I think. Time to start moving things back upstairs. Maybe I'll take a quick nap first - I didn't sleep last night either, waking up every couple hours to strange dreams.
Wow, 3 1/2 months. It was a marathon. I can't believe we made it through. And that she didn't snap and kill us in our sleep. I don't even know how to feel. Tired, I think. Time to start moving things back upstairs. Maybe I'll take a quick nap first - I didn't sleep last night either, waking up every couple hours to strange dreams.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
super hero
Was talking to Shameless today, trying to squelch her urge to become Dem club vice president next year. As I said "The club could really use you, but the club would really USE you." And I mean use her dry. But I do understand the impulse. I want to be a superhero as well - save the club from itself, accomplish amazing goals in an election year. Shoot, I was thinking of my dream cast: Shameless as Prez, me as vice Prez, VF or EB as secretary, whichever of those two who weren't sec. as treasurer. I could dedicate my whole year to doing everything the club needs done.
Whoa, wait a minute. My whole year. My writing time, my family time, my free time dedicated to a job that isn't paid, isn't really respected doing things I don't enjoy and that aren't natural to me. And it would suck me dry. Being a super hero sucks. I certainly couldn't do graphic design for candidates and causes (which I do enjoy) because that would be favoritism and I just wouldn't have time anyway. What a resentful wretch I'd be by the end of the year. I'm resentful enough this year, with the MIL taking up just 4 months of our summer. Imagine a year of being sucked dry.
But boy that impulse remains. A title. People looking up to you. The chance to save the day. It seems like that would be more rewarding than it actually is. But I've realized that the most rewarding things in my life have never been the public things. This year I've had moments that mattered. B.s thankfulness when I took care of the furnace while he visited his parents. The communion of working side by side with my soulmate as we dealt with the issues surrounding his father's death. Being there with my mother every day as we went to the hospice to see Grandpa, being that shoulder to cry on and that person to talk things out with when he died. Being there for struggling friends, for hurting family members - I could not have had those precious moments if I'd been struggling to keep the Dems together. And those moments are the reason I don't consider this whole year a dead loss. Painful memories, but precious memories. No, let others be flagrant superheros, rushing to save the obvious from the idiots. I'll be the one in the background, quietly holding the ones I love together, just smiling when people ask why I'm not an officer since I don't have a job and must have plenty of time on my hands. I've got more important things to do, thanks.
Whoa, wait a minute. My whole year. My writing time, my family time, my free time dedicated to a job that isn't paid, isn't really respected doing things I don't enjoy and that aren't natural to me. And it would suck me dry. Being a super hero sucks. I certainly couldn't do graphic design for candidates and causes (which I do enjoy) because that would be favoritism and I just wouldn't have time anyway. What a resentful wretch I'd be by the end of the year. I'm resentful enough this year, with the MIL taking up just 4 months of our summer. Imagine a year of being sucked dry.
But boy that impulse remains. A title. People looking up to you. The chance to save the day. It seems like that would be more rewarding than it actually is. But I've realized that the most rewarding things in my life have never been the public things. This year I've had moments that mattered. B.s thankfulness when I took care of the furnace while he visited his parents. The communion of working side by side with my soulmate as we dealt with the issues surrounding his father's death. Being there with my mother every day as we went to the hospice to see Grandpa, being that shoulder to cry on and that person to talk things out with when he died. Being there for struggling friends, for hurting family members - I could not have had those precious moments if I'd been struggling to keep the Dems together. And those moments are the reason I don't consider this whole year a dead loss. Painful memories, but precious memories. No, let others be flagrant superheros, rushing to save the obvious from the idiots. I'll be the one in the background, quietly holding the ones I love together, just smiling when people ask why I'm not an officer since I don't have a job and must have plenty of time on my hands. I've got more important things to do, thanks.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Sad
I'm very, very sad. My all-time favorite author, Madeline L'Engle just passed away.
She got me through adolescence with grace and fortitude when I read her "Meet the Austins" series. Then her adult novels showed me how to celebrate life, with all its uncertainties. She showed in her writing that life is equal parts tragedy and comedy and accepting both is the mark of a healthy and well-lived life. She was not prolific with her fiction - she wrote more Christian non-fiction - so I always eagerly anticipated her next novel. A toast to Madeline L'Engle whose strong understanding of the dark and light sides of life helped me grow into a strong, complex woman.
Author Madeleine L'Engle Dies at 88
HARTFORD, Conn. (AP) -- Author Madeleine L'Engle, whose novel "A Wrinkle in Time" has been enjoyed by generations of schoolchildren and adults since the 1960s, has died, her publicist said Friday. She was 88.
L'Engle died Thursday at a nursing home in Litchfield of natural causes, according to Jennifer Doerr, publicity manager for publisher Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
She got me through adolescence with grace and fortitude when I read her "Meet the Austins" series. Then her adult novels showed me how to celebrate life, with all its uncertainties. She showed in her writing that life is equal parts tragedy and comedy and accepting both is the mark of a healthy and well-lived life. She was not prolific with her fiction - she wrote more Christian non-fiction - so I always eagerly anticipated her next novel. A toast to Madeline L'Engle whose strong understanding of the dark and light sides of life helped me grow into a strong, complex woman.
love
The MIL came out of her (my!) bedroom. After commenting that I'd been doing odd things when she came out earlier (I was exercising to a yoga video) she said that she couldn't stop humming Brian's songs. B. had played them on the trip to DC this past week. And now they were stuck in her head because they are so good.
Don't get me wrong, it is a good album. But everything B. does is like that for the MIL. It is a clinging sort of puppy love where he can do no wrong and is her champion and savior. I think if Roger had not been around, B. would have ended up coddled and admired to the point he would have been a conceited ass. But Roger took all the air out of a room and could only stand to see something admired if it was an extension of himself. The MIL seems to be trying to make up for lost time - but it doesn't work that way. He cannot revert back to childhood. At the same time, she wants him in the role of savior. She clings to him when they are out, she gets distressed and tells him about it if he goes to bed while she is in the bathroom and she doesn't hug him goodnight. If I were B. I would be shaking my leg and screaming "get the hell off me!" She has come back from DC all self-satisfied from having B. to herself the entire time. Her humming is driving me crazy.
I remember having first loves like that. That horrible, yet wonderful infatuated love that turns frantic when the person wants more independence. Because of our long history before dating, I never had that deep a level of "he can do no wrong" with B. After knowing each other for seven years, I'd seen how very wrong he could do. My realization of the humanness of my parents was complete by the time I graduated college - they made the decision that I was an adult and stopped sheltering me when I started college, so by the end I could talk to them as an adult. B's parents never made that decision, sheltering him well into his thirties so that he was never the adult. They never faced problems as a family and he only learned secrets when they were leaked to him by bitter family members. Thank goodness his aunt told him about his mother's mental illness - losing his Dad was shock enough, if he hadn't know about his mother before she flipped it would have really been a horror. I really feel it was irresponsible of his parents to try to "protect" B, especially when he, as an only child, would then be responsible for them if anything happened (which of course it did). And now this terrible dependence and the feeling that the more she clings the faster we want to run away from her.
Don't get me wrong, it is a good album. But everything B. does is like that for the MIL. It is a clinging sort of puppy love where he can do no wrong and is her champion and savior. I think if Roger had not been around, B. would have ended up coddled and admired to the point he would have been a conceited ass. But Roger took all the air out of a room and could only stand to see something admired if it was an extension of himself. The MIL seems to be trying to make up for lost time - but it doesn't work that way. He cannot revert back to childhood. At the same time, she wants him in the role of savior. She clings to him when they are out, she gets distressed and tells him about it if he goes to bed while she is in the bathroom and she doesn't hug him goodnight. If I were B. I would be shaking my leg and screaming "get the hell off me!" She has come back from DC all self-satisfied from having B. to herself the entire time. Her humming is driving me crazy.
I remember having first loves like that. That horrible, yet wonderful infatuated love that turns frantic when the person wants more independence. Because of our long history before dating, I never had that deep a level of "he can do no wrong" with B. After knowing each other for seven years, I'd seen how very wrong he could do. My realization of the humanness of my parents was complete by the time I graduated college - they made the decision that I was an adult and stopped sheltering me when I started college, so by the end I could talk to them as an adult. B's parents never made that decision, sheltering him well into his thirties so that he was never the adult. They never faced problems as a family and he only learned secrets when they were leaked to him by bitter family members. Thank goodness his aunt told him about his mother's mental illness - losing his Dad was shock enough, if he hadn't know about his mother before she flipped it would have really been a horror. I really feel it was irresponsible of his parents to try to "protect" B, especially when he, as an only child, would then be responsible for them if anything happened (which of course it did). And now this terrible dependence and the feeling that the more she clings the faster we want to run away from her.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Aging
I am terrified of getting older. No, it isn't what you think. I don't mind the age lines (well, not too much), I don't think that much of losing my fertility or any thing like that. It isn't so much that I'm getting older. It is just that every year I age, my parents get older too.
I am terrified of seeing my parents age. If I'm getting older, so are they. 64 and 65 years old. That used to seem ancient to me - but now I am in denial that it is even considered senior. I want to deny that they are gradually turning into white-haired, wrinkled, frail-looking seniors. That they are, in fact, considered senior citizens now. Dad has always had white hair, with laugh lines around his eyes - so what if they are getting deeper? Mom still has dark brown hair - so what if she's shrunk a little? They'll never look like those men and women I see at the senior center. They'll never look old and wizened like my Grandma is and Grandpa was, right? They'll go on charging through life, obstinately doing everything they darn well please and proving they can, right?
"I see my folks are getting on, and I watch their bodies change. I know they see the same in me and it makes us both feel strange. No matter how you tell yourself, it's what we all go through - those lines are pretty hard t take when their staring back at you. Scared to run out of time" -Bonnie Raitt-
B.'s Dad died this year. This year. Roger will indeed never be old and wizened. We are old enough to have parents who die from age-related diseases. That is new and it horrifies me My Grandpa is dead and my Grandma is faltering. A friend of my Mom told her at the funeral (she had lost her father this year as well) that "We are the older generation now." What does that mean? The next to die, right? I don’t want to think about that. My Mom and I are very close. I can't imagine losing her. I adore my Dad, especially now that he is older and more easy-going. What would I do without my parents?
Oh, I understand, you really don't know. I could get eaten by rampaging wild dogs tomorrow and they could live another thirty years. But the reality is that they have less life left on this earth than I have already lived. And that flew by so fast - I just want to freeze time. Lets just stay right here, right now where my Dad is retired, and they are both relatively happy and healthy and are still my parents. I don't want to go on to the next step, the one where they become old and frail and I step into the role of caretaker and enabler. I have become very aware this year of the mortality of my family and I don't like it a bit. Having my MIL here, expecting me to be her caretaker, has brought that point home to me. My parents, however will be royal pain in the asses when they get really old - all I have to do is look at my stubborn Grandma and Grandpa to see how much they will resist being taken care of. They will not go gently to that good night. And I think that makes me feel better. They will be frailer, they can't help that, our bodies do betray us with time. But they will not become my MIL, they will not become hopeless and dependent - they will continue to be their irascible, pain in the ass, never say you are sick, selves. That gets down to it, doesn't it? I am worried that age will turn my parents into shadows of themselves, that they will become like my MIL, hopeless, dependent, almost parasitic in nature - that they will be leaning on me so much that I will no longer have their support, their love - only their need. But they aren't like that, and never will be. I don't want them to get old, I don't want them to die - but more than that I don't want them to become shadows of themselves because of age. But they've got too much spunk for that and too much angry independence. My Dad is already determined to milk every enjoyment out of retirement. My Mom is still adjusting to her dad's death and the freedom from caring for him that it brings for her - but she is already rallying and going with Dad places. They aren’t going to spend their remaining decades pining away on the couch.
Like Bonnie Raitt sings "When did the choices get so hard, so much more at stake? Life is mighty precious when there is less of it to waste."
I am terrified of seeing my parents age. If I'm getting older, so are they. 64 and 65 years old. That used to seem ancient to me - but now I am in denial that it is even considered senior. I want to deny that they are gradually turning into white-haired, wrinkled, frail-looking seniors. That they are, in fact, considered senior citizens now. Dad has always had white hair, with laugh lines around his eyes - so what if they are getting deeper? Mom still has dark brown hair - so what if she's shrunk a little? They'll never look like those men and women I see at the senior center. They'll never look old and wizened like my Grandma is and Grandpa was, right? They'll go on charging through life, obstinately doing everything they darn well please and proving they can, right?
"I see my folks are getting on, and I watch their bodies change. I know they see the same in me and it makes us both feel strange. No matter how you tell yourself, it's what we all go through - those lines are pretty hard t take when their staring back at you. Scared to run out of time" -Bonnie Raitt-
B.'s Dad died this year. This year. Roger will indeed never be old and wizened. We are old enough to have parents who die from age-related diseases. That is new and it horrifies me My Grandpa is dead and my Grandma is faltering. A friend of my Mom told her at the funeral (she had lost her father this year as well) that "We are the older generation now." What does that mean? The next to die, right? I don’t want to think about that. My Mom and I are very close. I can't imagine losing her. I adore my Dad, especially now that he is older and more easy-going. What would I do without my parents?
Oh, I understand, you really don't know. I could get eaten by rampaging wild dogs tomorrow and they could live another thirty years. But the reality is that they have less life left on this earth than I have already lived. And that flew by so fast - I just want to freeze time. Lets just stay right here, right now where my Dad is retired, and they are both relatively happy and healthy and are still my parents. I don't want to go on to the next step, the one where they become old and frail and I step into the role of caretaker and enabler. I have become very aware this year of the mortality of my family and I don't like it a bit. Having my MIL here, expecting me to be her caretaker, has brought that point home to me. My parents, however will be royal pain in the asses when they get really old - all I have to do is look at my stubborn Grandma and Grandpa to see how much they will resist being taken care of. They will not go gently to that good night. And I think that makes me feel better. They will be frailer, they can't help that, our bodies do betray us with time. But they will not become my MIL, they will not become hopeless and dependent - they will continue to be their irascible, pain in the ass, never say you are sick, selves. That gets down to it, doesn't it? I am worried that age will turn my parents into shadows of themselves, that they will become like my MIL, hopeless, dependent, almost parasitic in nature - that they will be leaning on me so much that I will no longer have their support, their love - only their need. But they aren't like that, and never will be. I don't want them to get old, I don't want them to die - but more than that I don't want them to become shadows of themselves because of age. But they've got too much spunk for that and too much angry independence. My Dad is already determined to milk every enjoyment out of retirement. My Mom is still adjusting to her dad's death and the freedom from caring for him that it brings for her - but she is already rallying and going with Dad places. They aren’t going to spend their remaining decades pining away on the couch.
Like Bonnie Raitt sings "When did the choices get so hard, so much more at stake? Life is mighty precious when there is less of it to waste."
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Solitude
This is what I've been waiting for. B. is gone with the MIL and I am alone in my house for the first time in two and a half months. I just spent the day rearranging the living room furniture - my way of controlling my environment, my solace when I feel my life isn't going the way I want it. It was a pleasant afternoon.
Then I sat down and started getting edgy. There was no one around. No one coming home. All alone. Why was this bothering me so much? I went for a long walk. Listening to a Bonnie Raitt song made me cry (good for the lasik eyes, bad for the walk). Came home and the house was empty. This is what I wanted. What I craved! What was the problem here? One word:
Solitude.
Ahh, yes, this I remember. The real test to see if you are comfortable in your own skin. Any phobias? Find a good crowd to blend in with. Feelings you haven't faced? Call a friend. Painful episodes you don't want to think about? Go to a bar. The raw emotion of solitude isn’t for the faint of heart. Help! Save me from myself!
Because the minute your brain realizes it finally has you alone it will grab you in a stranglehold and say "Here, see this - this has been lurking in the dark recesses of your brain for months now, why the hell is your emotional to-do list full? Get to it!"
Guess I'm not terribly comfortable in my own skin right now. Too much has happened this year that has been left emotional un-dealt with. I haven't had the requisite solitude to sort through what life has been trying to teach me this year and I feel it - in depression, in fears that rise out of nowhere, in an increase in anxiety over small things. Maybe I can use the solitude of the next few days to dig into the murky depths and do some emotional housecleaning.
Then I sat down and started getting edgy. There was no one around. No one coming home. All alone. Why was this bothering me so much? I went for a long walk. Listening to a Bonnie Raitt song made me cry (good for the lasik eyes, bad for the walk). Came home and the house was empty. This is what I wanted. What I craved! What was the problem here? One word:
Solitude.
Ahh, yes, this I remember. The real test to see if you are comfortable in your own skin. Any phobias? Find a good crowd to blend in with. Feelings you haven't faced? Call a friend. Painful episodes you don't want to think about? Go to a bar. The raw emotion of solitude isn’t for the faint of heart. Help! Save me from myself!
Because the minute your brain realizes it finally has you alone it will grab you in a stranglehold and say "Here, see this - this has been lurking in the dark recesses of your brain for months now, why the hell is your emotional to-do list full? Get to it!"
Guess I'm not terribly comfortable in my own skin right now. Too much has happened this year that has been left emotional un-dealt with. I haven't had the requisite solitude to sort through what life has been trying to teach me this year and I feel it - in depression, in fears that rise out of nowhere, in an increase in anxiety over small things. Maybe I can use the solitude of the next few days to dig into the murky depths and do some emotional housecleaning.
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