WWID???

What Would I Do…if I didn’t have to go to work tomorrow…or the next day…or the day after…

With Dearest Sister’s impending retirement, I will be the last sibling standing, more or less, and it’s giving me the opportunity to ponder the question, how would I spend my time, if it were my own?

One of my first goals would be to clean and reorganize the house.  Cleaning Gina would be a thing of the past, obviously, and I would inventory everything.  Recently a couple of my knitter peeps lost their home to fire, and the only thing they had a good inventory of was their yarn/fiber on Ravelry.  And there I sit, being able to amaze with how organized I have been with my stash, and little else.

Cooking/baking/shopping/planning would happen so healthy eating and less eating out would follow.

Probably there are certain financial/bill paying chores that Wonderful Guy does now that I would do, having more time.

Gifts and cards would almost all be homemade.

That is how I see saving money that I wouldn't be earning.  This is what I see doing for growing and learning…

I long to have the time to challenge myself with my camera and photo-editing software.  I would set goals and finds lessons and read and meet challenges with both.  Har har!  My family thinks they get hand knits now!  They will be receiving artsy photos next!!

My yard would so less hit and miss, and I would try new stuff to make it better.  I read about interesting ideas, but just don’t have the time to figure out how to implement them.  Also…I would build a cold frame to extend my growing season!

I will teach Grandbebe Girl #1 how to knit, and the others, too, in their turn, if they want.  And continue to expand my horizons in the fibery fields, of course.  Maybe I could parley those skills into an income stream, who knows.  I will join the local knitting guild and perhaps work on becoming a master knitter.

The baby quilts would be caught up for sure, and maybe there is a quilter’s guild, too, that suits.  And I will sew up all those good ideas I have seen and have cached for ‘when I have time…’  I really love to sew.

I will walk most days, and I will have that second (or third) cup of coffee in the morning…sitting down.

I think that's a pretty good start.

Back Again

My back has been giving me grief.  So much so that the end of last year I went to a physical therapist.  She who detests such infringement on time, finances, and prefers more of a holistic approach to healing...went for some PT.  And apparently I whined about it enough that Eldest Daughter deemed yoga might shut my trap, and has been paying for some sessions.

All joking aside, my back was not letting me sleep at night, and seriously not getting any better, and I was very frustrated because I try very hard to do...well...everything right.

I was even more frustrated because during the time we were in Cancun, and for a few days upon our return, I had respite from pain!  I thought I was cured by the beach and seawater!  But alas, it was 'back' on me by the end of the week.

But then I thought to myself...self...there was another time recently that it wasn't so bad...upon the return from your recent visit to see Eldest.  I had put that to a new mattress and starting yoga however, and also starting up the biking again, and really altogether too many variables to zero in on a cause, and who cared because it didn't last.

However, I am of a scientific nature.  And I continued to hurt.  And I wanted to figure this out and find an answer.  Why did my back not hurt so much those two times?  Was there a common variable?

Why, yes.  There was.  I didn't carry my fabulous hand tooled red leather bag on either trip, that I bought in October, right before my back went south big time.  (I knew that thing was too big when I bought it.) (But, oh...it was...and is...fabulous...)

Last weekend I changed out bags.  I am still getting past the twinges and the soreness, but I am getting past it.  I don't feel worse daily and I am sleeping better. Seriously I felt the difference almost immediately.

Crazy.

In the meantime?  I have fallen in love with yoga.  Behold.

Om Nava Shivaya Yoga Mat Bag, by Audrey Loopy, out of Tahki Cotton.  (If it stretches?  I can toss it in the washer and dryer!)

The i-cord handle threads though the top and is grafted back at the bottom!

That's an i-cord bind off...my first, and it was tricky!  I need to do it again before I can claim that I know how to do it.

I think the bottom looks awesome. I might firm up this with a circle of cardboard.
Maybe. Maybe not.

Wisdom (On The Cheap)

On the way to work (when I am driving), I pass a couple of churches with message boards. When I am biking, one church even has a small one close to the bike path.  These message boards sometimes tell of upcoming church-y events, or sometimes their owners use them to impart words of advice and wisdom.

Which can sometimes be a bit obnoxious…from my perspective.  I remember, back in the day of being 'the minister's wife', looking over such platitudes and helping to decide which #1 would work with the letters we had available, #2 would work with the space/lines available, and #3 wouldn’t offend.

One of these message boards I pass is a new-fangled and modern electronic gizmo, so #1 has no implication, and really, I am not sure that this particular establishment is too concerned about #3, because sometimes?  I get a bit chapped passing that place.  I mean sometime I just want to roll my window down and yell….’whatever! BOZOS!!!’  I don’t even remember what today’s words of wisdom were.  Something about experience and knowledge and THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW ME SO SHUT IT!!!!

In front of the other church today…something about not finding the real meaning of life using Google.

All this for free.

However!  For a mere $3.97 (plus tax), I could have bought a magnet on Sunday from a little independent shop in our Old Town that spoke to my heart, and I remember oh. so. clearly.

“I wish I were as thin now as when I thought I was fat.’

The choice is mine.  Refrigerator wisdom that I have to pay for, but apparently sticks with me, or religious bleatings for free that irritate (but apparently not the hell out) me.

Lessons in Humble

The ‘Just A Little Under Shirt’ knitted up just swimmingly.  I loved the stripes.  I loved the cotton.  I love the teeny-ness of it.

I loved it all…until I hit the finishing up part of it.  Single crochet around the arm openings.  Double crochet around the neck.  I-cord or crochet chain for the tie.

(After observing the photos of the finished objects on Ravelry,I preferred the look of the crochet chain to the bulk of the i-cord.)

Ya’ know…I do lots of things well.  I can knit cables, lace, socks.  I can (most of the time) hit gauge.  I can cast on both provisionally and magically.  I can cast off half a dozen ways.  I can knit with the loops of magickness.  I can felt.  By hand even.  I can spin (intermediately!).  I can dye yarn and wool with out muddying the colors (too badly) (and if I do, I know how to overdye!).  I can clean raw fleece, and card it for spinning.

This does not mention talents outside the fibery realm, like gardening or baking chocolate chip cookies, or writing an understandable sentence.

But I do not crochet without much uncertain effort. And the finishing up of the 'Just A Little Undershirt' was truly a lesson in the humble.

Thirty minutes it took for the 26 inch crochet chain.  I claim slippy cotton yarn…partially...

Actually, the double crochet around the neck lies better than the single crochet around the armholes.  But I am not daunted.  I do not think my bebe girl will pass judgment on what her Grandmama knit for her (yet)and decline to wear it.  I have yarn for more and I feel that with practice will come progress. (Never give up!  Never surrender!)

More Little UnderShirts are in the works.  Come hell crochet or high water ribbing….which is an option I found that others have used while perusing those that have knitted the same...others that, no doubt, can crochet no better than I!

Waiting (with Bated Breath)

It appears that I have won the insurance wars.

The insurance website says the claims are paid, but I am waiting to be able to view the details.

Just to be sure. Because surely it can’t be completely done. Surely not. Not after all I have learned about how the business is done.

And what have I learned?

• I have learned that ‘No pre-authorization required’ means that the charges can be denied on the back end.
• I will call the insurance company for all future procedures. Beforehand. Taking names, dates, and times. I appreciate the healthcare provider’s office help. I do. I really do. But I am going to talk to a person at the insurance company. A live person. (Even if I feel that I have received some differing information depending on who I was speaking to this go-round.)
• I will find out exactly what policies are used to determine if a procedure is deemed necessary.
• I will hopefully receive something in writing.
• If it takes longer to schedule something, so be it. Far easier waiting two weeks getting my ducks in a row, than what I have been through this past month.

Because I have, regrettably, and much to my dismay, lost sleep over this. Which is almost as aggravating as the whole situation itself.

As much as I would have liked to have believed it was all going to work out exactly as it needed to be, I found it hard to let it go, and not give it anymore thought that it deserved. And while I could let it ‘sort of’ go briefly, often, if I woke in the middle of the night, I could not shut my mind down from thinking what my next step would be.

It’s one of those areas that I had hoped that I had grown more in. But when it comes to thinking I should have done better, I didn’t do all I should have, and now it’s costing a boatload of money? I see I still have some work to do.

On the other hand?

I won.

(ETA: EOBs are up and in order.  Happy dancing has officially started!)

Insurance Wars

Still fighting them. Almost seems I am fighting them on two fronts. I call the insurance company (making sure to write down names and dates and times) and find out what they need. I call the referring physician's office and ask for information to be faxed. However, they aren't owed any money in this. I think I may be losing their interest.

Nice as I am trying to be in spite of my frustration. And I admit. I am getting mighty frustrated.

Frustrating Facts of Frustration

Actual statement from benefits summary: 'Pre-authorization is not a guarantee of benefit.' [Now there is a trump card I would like to hold.]

Three 'customer advocates' (also file under Ironic Irony) have told me my procedure 1) required pre-authorization, 2) an initial phone said it didn't, but a 2^nd phone call (that a mind reader would have known to make) (my interpretation) would have told us a pre-authorization was needed, 3) a pre-authorization wasn't required.

A 2^nd denial (received this week) is based on the fact that the best way to deal with one of 'these' is not an MRI but a biopsy. I call to make sure it is understood we are dealing with nine. 9. NINE! (Incidentally, up from five, found six months before.) Yep. They see that. Biopsies should have been the order of the day.

That according the state insurance commissioners office, to the best of my understanding? They are within their rights. And basically can do whatever they want. And get away with it. (Because why should they fear me?)

Ironic Irony

Insurance wants family medical history to be faxed from referring physician. Same family medical history that I gave to referring physician. Verbally. But you know. It's more…legit…coming from me, through him, to them….

Those I talk to at the insurance company are called 'customer advocates'. I don't feel like anyone is advocating for anything on my behalf. AT ALL.

Thank the universe and all the powers that be that this procedure proved that nothing was amiss and the nines masses are just hanging out, chatting it up, and playing pinochle, or whatever it is that they do on their off hours. BUT. If something had been all goofy in there…would I be jumping through these hoops, or would that have proved that this was a necessary procedure? Gosh! What a relief to not have to worry about all of this? Just to worry…you know…about having health issues!!!

Resulting in…the feeling that this has 'red-flagged' me with these people. That no further claim with these people will ever go smoothly ever again. And that with that trump card? Why should I ever trust that any claim will ever be paid?

I truly believe it is not just healthcare reform that is required. It is health insurance reform that is required as well.

Because this is just not right.

As I have told my sisters, I feel like a five year old at a grown up's table, learning the rules to Canasta. Except I only have an old half a deck of Old Maid, and the grown ups? They aren't friendly and keep changing the rules and lying to me.

Expectations of Others

(Or Wanting Others Different Than Who They Are)

I spent many years of my life thinking others would be better served to behave the way I thought they ought to behave.

I believed that if others would only ‘be this way’ or ‘quit doing that’, my life would be so much more peaceful.

But mostly people were who they were, and did what they wanted to do, without any regard for my wishes. Go figure. No amount of passive-aggressive, co-dependent, controlling behavior on my part got others to do anything I wanted them to.

Only thing that happened was the build-up of anger and resentment in me at others for messing up my life. Co-workers, family members, neighbors…it didn’t matter. Any of these in my circle of acquaintances might be the thorn in my flesh, that if only I could get to change….or get out…well, then I thought I, and they! would be so much happier.

I have since learned that people are who they are. And they changed when they are ready. Or they don’t change ever.

They never change because I want them to. Or because I insist on telling them what they need to do. Ever. My peace comes in accepting them for who they are, and seeing the value in them, just as they are.

And in working boundaries to protect myself if they are truly threatening, detaching from the drama on which some feed, understanding the difference in acceptance of the person as valuable and ‘giving into’ the unhealthy wishes and demands to make that person feel worthy.

I have had some times in my life that were silly, whiney examples of me not being able to ‘get-along’. And I have had a couple of examples of some who were in my life to teach me this specific lesson. I am not sure I learned it well enough. I am sort of waiting for the follow-up course.

Lost and Found Karma

A few weeks ago, right before our last long weekend, I was wearing a hand knit scarf at work. All day. It was cold and the scarf was warm! It rose up around my neck though, and halfway through the morning, I noticed one of my earrings, by bumping against the scarf, was working its way out. I replaced it and went about my business.
On my way home from work, I realized I was missing an earring. End of day, my peeps and I were cleaning up the lab in preparation for a scheduled inspection, and I bet it worked its way out during that time.
Darn it! I haven’t lost an earring in a long long time, and these were some nice ones Wonderful Guy and I found in Sante Fe, hand made and sold by the native Americans.
I say again. Darn it.
I was hoping that one of my worker fellows would have found it and it would be at my desk upon my arrival back at work, but alas. Nothing. So sad.
Exactly a week after the fact, while in the lab, waiting for a time point to come up, I was wondering around checking for expiration dates, and old samples, and there! In the middle of the floor! It was!

Whee! It feels so good when something lost comes back to me.
When I arrived at work the next morning, one of the bitterly cold mornings of late, there on top of the snow in the parking lot lay someone’s thumb drive, all cold and frosty, but not run over. I scooped it up and brought it in. I sent out an email, and someone was oh so glad to claim it and the documentation that resided within. She assured me all was intact, frostiness not withstanding.
Whee! It feels so good when I can help something come back to someone else.

Ongoing challenges

While I have spoken in the past about reaching peace with where I am age-wise, in regard to all things mental and physical, it is an ongoing challenge for me.

Not so much in some, mind you, but maybe those areas are just easier to overlook.

Like the head of grey hair. A quick glance in the mirror from the front, and I can convince myself that white is blonde. Almost. And I am really glad to be done with the coloring. And the ginourmous calcium tablets to beat back the osteo-whatever-it-is? Why, those might be prenatal vitamins (only not.) (at all!). The nails are benefitting nicely, as a nice aside.

Lovely Step-Daughter shared a room with Wonderful Guy and I while in Breckenridge a couple weekends ago. She asked me one evening after I showered if I hadn’t washed my hair. I replied that was one of the benefits of aging…no longer needing to wash the mop every. single. day. She asked about other advantages of, you know, aging. Well…hmmm.

Let’s see. Dearest Sister might say less of a need to shave. I might add…well, I didn’t know what else. It was late and I was tired. I couldn’t then, or now, come up with what might be considered other ‘advantages’.

It takes longer to get my energy back, and my sleep is occasionally interrupted with night-sweats. I creak where I didn’t use to, and when I get up or stoop over, I don’t believe that I am lithe or graceful any longer. I am crinkly, I sag, and I no longer defy gravity.

I bear scars. And, of late, I am rather self conscious of some of them. They have lost the lustre of being 'badges of courage'...

I can no longer eat when, what, or how ever much I want, without a care of calorie.

There was a pride in knowing exactly the right word for the job at hand. Somtimes, I just cannot come up with what I mean. It seems to be in my mind what I want to express…but it is so much trouble to form the verbal aspect of my thoughts. I am just all whatever...you know what I mean...blah blah blah...

But not really. I am really thinking getting old sucks big time. I used to be able to express myself!

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I don’t always have to express my opinion on every little thing now. It gives me more time to spend listening, which takes way more effort. I have come to believe that a lot of us could put more effort into listening to others and hearing what they really are saying.

But the actual hearing part? Well. I am not going there.

And yet.

Sunday we attended a cook-out which was a pseudo-birthday get-together for a neighbor. Pseudo, because last year was his big fiftieth bash, so this year was just a ‘get-together’. Wonderful Guy asked Birthday Boy how he was enjoying the 50’s club. That always seems to get the attention of the forty-somethings. Birthday Boy remarked that is wasn’t so bad, and one of the near-by 40-somethings was intrigued enough to ask us 'silver backs' what wasn’t so bad about being in our fifties.

I had to say me…not being 40…or 30…or even 20. See. I just like me better at 50, even with the creaks and groans and scars and marks and ringing in the ears. I like to believe that most of the time, I am at peace with me, that the crazy-maker of my younger days has grown up into someone who can more times than not, accept life, others, and herself.

More times than not. It’s all about progress.

Learning

I dreamed last night I was back in school somehow, some way. I don’t know if it was in high school or college, and I don’t know where it was. There were kids from my hometown there (stupid facebook dredging up memories), but I hadn’t forgotten my locker combination, or left my class schedule at home, or ended up in homeroom half-naked (those are nightmares, not dreams).

But my point (and I do have one) is that I was back in school….and I was learning.

I don’t always remember my dreams right when I wake up. And I didn’t this morning. It came back to me as I rode to work (230 miles so far, thank you very much), through the puddles from last nights storms (more hail!). And there it was. An opportunity to reflect…and to avoid the back splash of puddle water…

I love learning, which may be the cause of taking on so many crafts, and within those crafts, so many projects. For me, I (typically) will progress through my projects, refining what I know already, but learning new techniques as well. Sometimes those new techniques really click. And I am grateful I have learned I can put aside those things that don’t.

And also the buying of books. Yes. Definitely the buying of books. Books offer a lot of learning. Which one gains through the reading of said books.

I learn everyday at work. I am fortunate to work with those who mentor very well. Or perhaps I just learn easily. Or both.

I subscribe to the on-line word-for-the-day. Because. It is learning! A word a day! I love Antiques Roadshow, and the real (not reality) programming that teaches, whether on PBS, Discovery, National Geo, History, or whatever. (Trust me, that is not all I watch...)

I am a student of life, listening to those at my meeting, hearing their stories, their experience, strength, and hope, and seeing what I can learn.

Poor Wonderful Guy is drug all over history museums and ranger-led hikes and national monuments…always listening…always reading…

I am the penultimate student, and in my mind, still in a turtle neck, bell-bottoms, and with long blonde hair…back in college, in other words…young-ish…(even though back then I might have really believed you couldn’t have told me anything).

And I am so grateful to those who have taken the time to teach me, from my mother, who taught me to cook (the basics), sew (serious basic skills), and knit (when I was young enough, so it became like riding a bike), the gifted teachers I had from grade school through college, my supervisors who were mentors, the list goes on.

But I am not sure I have anything to offer back. What can I teach anyone? I don’t think that much. A lot of what I have learned I have picked up, gleaned, and modified. It might not be ‘right’. It might just ‘work’ for me.

Like how I cast on when knitting. I have never seen anyone else do it the way I do it.

Like how my tomatoes and roses grow so well. Don’t ask me how. I just lucked out where I planted them. Maybe it was intuition…

There is a part of me that feels it is an injustice if I am not giving back some of what I receive. For a free thinking, old hippie-type liberal democrat, there is some serious guilt in the above thinking.

And that’s what I am reflecting on today.

When It Rains...

it hails.

For the second time this week, my blooms were shredded by hail. Crazy.

As in crazy weather. Every afternoon this week! Been a good week to not be able physically to ride Trekkie, the Bike, as the weather hasn't been amenable.

I am, after all, a fair weather rider.

We are taking off tomorrow to travel east to be with my sister. Day after the services, we will travel back west for some vacation.

I surely do need some time to re-gather myself. I have more and better tools with which to deal with what life hands me now, and yet, what life hands us is still what life hands us. If I say it doesn't matter, or play it down, I believe I am fooling myself.

It matters. I choose to deal with life how it needs to be dealt, without undue drama, without denial. With self-honestly about feelings, and self-reflection about those feelings, and self-accountability for those feelings.

I am glad I am going to see my family.

Sure am sorry I am going to miss the wool market. Seriously don't think I am in any danger of running out...of fleece....or roving...or yarn....before next year's though.

Up And Down And All Over

Phoebe was back at the Vet on Tuesday. Seems she is more an old lady kittie than we knew. She now gets 1/4 tsp. Miralax twice daily with a bit of chicken broth on her food. The Cat Who Would Be Queen is bent. So today she got some broth sans Miralax.

Hmph. Didn't even have to stop to pick any up.

I have been working feverishly on the quilt top for Grandbebe Two, and have it mostly pieced. I plan on purchasing batting this weekend at the president's day sale at the local JoAnns. Which will mean a trip to Lowe's. Wonderful Guy says 'every trip to JoAnn's warrants a trip to LoweAnn's'. Silly fellow. I play along.

Anyway. Progress. I am looking forward to the quilting. Mostly because it will mean I won't be knitting the acreage of garter stitch which is the MLCB, which may never end. It's saving grace is how absolutely beautiful it is. I promise (yes, promise!) photos of both before the weekend is out.

Thanks, all, for hanging around and reading. There has been stuff cluttering up the horizon lately. Events happening all over to people I love and care about, employment issues dragging on my self-esteem and an uncertain future in a more uncertain economy, sick kitties, and a snowy backyard with 2 1/2 months more of winter.

It has been a good time to practice my gratitudes. And grateful I am for the lessons I am learning right now, whatever they are, for wherever they are taking me. That's where I want to go, because I know that when these lessons are learned, I will be ... better.

Yeah. Better.

Making Amends

When I was a freshman in college, five of us traveled home for a weekend early in the fall semester.

I was all about my high school boyfriend at the time. I would soon be all about another boyfriend, and that was the way I was. Guys, fun, playing around, doing what I needed to do to make passable grades with the least amount of effort, to allow for more time for guys, fun, and playing around.

On the way back to school, very close to our destination, leaning up over the front seat (it was not a time of seat belt wearing), I spoke to the driver sotto voce. ‘Wouldn’t it be fun to pretend to run out of gas and freak out the other two girls?’ Immediately he played along, letting up on the accelerator.

And the other two girls responded so appropriately. Cries of dismay were forthcoming. The dark rural highway became so much more forbidding. The freshman curfew was suddenly looming. What was going to happen to us?

Nothing for it but to pull over, and start walking to what seemed a likely farmhouse nearby, which the five of us did, down a dirt road. And not far after starting, the driver, his buddy (who was in on it), and myself, turned and ran back to the car. See! Fun and games!

We made it back to the car just before the other two girls, barely, and they hopped, laughing, on the trunk. The driver pulled out from the shoulder, not really very fast, as I remember it.

But as the driver started up, and pulled out, one lost her grip, and slipped off. She fell onto the asphalt, and hit her head.

The car was stopped and we ran back to help her up, but something was wrong. She was unconscious and this was our first sign that she was injured. Somehow a law enforcement officer was there and I don’t remember how (this was before cell phones). Perhaps he just happened by, but he put her in the backseat of his vehicle and took her to hospital.
She was conscious now, so maybe she wasn’t in such a bad way.

We followed to the hospital, and I was very chagrined, as it did seem my fun idea had taken a rather dismal turn. It was obvious we were going to be in serious trouble, and it had been my idea.

Once at the hospital, we learned she had been taken into surgery. Her parents had been called, and were on their way from where we had just spent the weekend. She had hit her head very, very hard on the pavement, suffering a terrible brain trauma, and she died shortly before her parents arrived early the next morning, if I am remembering right.

I was not a close friend to her, or to the two fellows, having just met them for the ride home. I had been, in years past, a very good friend to the other girl. There were four 18 year olds in this tragedy, and I think I was the only one mostly concerned about the trouble I was going to be in. The lives, the real feelings, the depth of the heartbreak, none of that was going on in my little sphere. It just didn’t occur to me. I didn’t know any better. I really honestly was just that … self-serving.

I kept mostly to myself through the aftermath, not seeking out any with whom I might share feelings, or might help me find those feelings. Hell, I didn’t even know at this point in my life what honest feelings were. I was so, so clueless. My stupid, ‘fun’ idea resulted in a girl’s death, a set of parents living without a daughter, and three other rather more mature freshman having to grow up and live with the memories of that night.
And I am so, so sorry.

Revisiting the Past

Various events and circumstances have led to me being in touch one way or another with several old friends.

I have mostly made good efforts to keep in touch with people, but life sometimes just gets in the way. When opportunity presents itself, usually I try to re-establish contact. That’s a little intimidating for me. Okay, very intimidating for me. I mean, what if these people don’t remember me? A very likely possibility as I see myself as not being particularly noticeable. Or worse yet, what if they remember me? Again, another scary possibility, as I remember how I was when I was younger.

There is a reason, after all, I spent many of the last seven or eight years in intense self-reflection and self-examination, working a 12-step program, making amends, and figuring out why I do the things I do. One of the things I do is operate from a place of fear of rejection. And I sure do like for people to think highly of me. That’s a precarious place to walk when striking up old contacts.

But still I do. And because of all the self-growthy work I have wreaked upon myself, it has been more rewarding. I am more able to let it go if it doesn’t fly. Mostly.

So anyway. All these blasts from the past. I am talking way back. Grade school and junior high way back, and college, too. It’s a cause for reflection, desired or not.

There are specific remembrances that are pretty sweet. And not brought by me, interestingly enough, but I remember (usually) when names, places, and doings are brought up. I find that other’s memories of time spent with me wasn’t completely horrific.

There is some comfort in that. I am not kidding, either. My mind works that way.

With the renewing of friendships comes questions of ‘how did you get where you now doing what you are doing?’

Where am I? What am I doing? And how did I end up here? And how do I express that?
Hopefully without bile, because I am finally, and truly, grateful for the heartbreaking turn that I was forced to take that got me to look at myself. And got me to change things. And I would never have done that without getting dumped. At least I don’t think so.

I am at a place in my life where I can enjoy these friends on a level I could not before…so caught up in my distresses of emotional fear and needs. So there is redemption, too, in all of this.

Old Habits Die Hard

One of my goals this year is to renew my passport. Dearest Sister and I first traveled out of the country with Eldest Daughter's graduating class in 1996. We had good times. Serious fun! Really serious. If Wonderful Guy and Galaxie Guy really wanted to treat the two of us to some sort of really treat-y specially thing, send the two of us to France. Just buy us a ticket, and we would do the rest!

Anyway. My name is not the same now as it was on my original passport, and I have to have a certified copy of the Dee-vorce decree saying why and how it is now different. So off I went today at lunch to do just that. It is almost 7 years to the day since the Dee-vorce was finalized.

Seven. That has had me thinking.

I find it intriguing how ingrained my habit patterns are.

But then, I have been practicing them for a very long time, some of them since I was two or three. And having learned these behaviors long ago, and not knowing any different way to be, I effectively cemented them and reinforced them during my adult years and my previous marriage.

Until the pain of staying the same was greater than the pain of changing.

That's where the Dee-vorce brought me. Pretty much to my knees. And sometime laid out plum flat. It was a hard place to be, that much is sure. Maybe the hardest place I have ever been.

It wasn't my idea to change. I was forced into it. But I remember thinking that, come hell or high water, by the grace of an everlovin' God, I was going to learn something from this so I would never ever ever never ever have to repeat this class again. Never. Ever.

I learned by bits and pieces, gleaning nuggets here and there, but never stopping. I mean, after all, alot that I read? The people in these stories were whacked! I couldn't possibly have that much in common with them, could I?! There may have been slight similarities here and there...but inch by inch, little by little, I discovered there truly were more things alike than different between the subjects and myself. And in hearing my story, people probably were thinking I was whacked, too. And guess what? I may have been.

I attended 'Rebuilding', the divorce recovery group, and I started attending a 12-step program for those with general living problems. I kept working at it, reading (easy!), sharing with others (face to face not so easy), and staying connected with people (pretty darn hard!).

I learned alot about what I do, and why I do the things I do, and I do alot of things differently now. And I am grateful, truly grateful, for the opportunity I had to change. I mean that. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I am so grateful for being given the chance.

And yet sometimes something will happen, and an old reaction will raise up and have the effect of slapping me across the face. Yep, there I am again...

It took me 40 some odd years to dig those tracks. It's reasonable that it might take more than 6 or 7 to jump out of those ruts completely.

PS Don't forget to sign up for my 'Bloggery Contest'. It ends Saturday.

It Seems I Must Have...

...missed that part. I thought it was going to be a weekend recovery, but I find myself at home for two weeks doing very little. I was so excited about getting this little issue fixed that I must have skated right past that little part of being mostly inactive for two weeks. How does one who generally has all her ducks in a row do that?

Well, it happens. And embarrassingly so, I must add.

And I think my lesson here may be something along the line of having patience with others who sometimes aren't completely organized.

I don't have my Christmas shopping done.

Eldest Daughter is going to be here the week of Christmas and Wonderful Guy on vacation, and I am going to be mostly inactive, letting things 'get set'.

The good part is I am not feeling at all sliced and diced.

The bad part is I am not feeling at all sliced and diced.

Two days only, and I am tired of sitting and watching TV. Even though I watched some fun movies yesterday. THREE! actually. OMG, when was the last time I watched 3 movies, 2 Sex and The City episodes, a Tudors DVD, and MSNBC news, all in one day. (Wrapped up the evening watching the National Rodeo in Las Vegas. Steer wrestling and calf roping which looks hard, and bronc riding, which I think I could do, but not in the next couple of weeks. Never in my life watched rodeo...)

Three dishcloths and matchy matchy tribbles knitted. Today is calling for something more...challenging.

Also for those who asked, I scanned the well folded calendar page with the instructions for the Grace Kelly Scarf of last post. Embarrassingly simple!

Ready To Go...

on vacation...almost.

And my favorite holiday of the year is upon us. I love Thanksgiving, and I love giving thanks. I have much to be grateful for, and I have waxed on and on about this subject. I am likely to do so again in the future.

I believe gratitude to be my center of good health, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally.

Four years ago I was laid off during a company merger. The lay-offs were mostly for appearances to the shareholders, and those of us laid off were chosen somewhat arbitrarily, for some better reasons, and some not so fair. When I left, I was saddened to leave a place where I had learned so much from one of the best mentors I have ever had. I was very sorry to leave a workplace filled with some of the best co-workers I have had the privilege with which to work. It was a place of refuge during one of the hardest times of my life, and a place of healing and redemption. I found new self-confidence and a renewed belief in myself while working there during the Dee-vorce.

While being walked through the lay-off, I thanked those doing the dirty deed (in as kindly a fashion as they could) for the privilege of working and learning. I thanked my supervisors and my mentors. I said good-bye to my co-workers, left toting my stuff, drove out of the parking lot, and headed down the road with tears filling my eyes. It was a sad day for me, but I was grateful for the experience, and knew if not there, then somewhere else...

I have had to start some networking this week. In this networking, I visited with one of my former co-workers. Our conversation turned to co-workers, and how that has been one of my best experiences, previously and presently. She commented that she remembered how remarkably gracefully I handled being laid off that day.

Oh my goodness.

I am glad I didn't throw a fit seeing as how I am having work my network again!

Being grateful for life's crap has almost become a game. I am always wondering what the lesson is here. Taking life on life's terms always surprises me. I cannot predict or control or manage life. I accept, go with the flow, try to learn the lesson, and thank the universe for the opportunity to learn.

See....there I went again, getting all philosophical about thanksgiving. Well, it works for me.

So anyway. I am going to be gone for the week, and don't know if I am going to get the chance to post. I will if I can, because mostly I can't shut it for long. Ask Dearest Sister.

Also, have a great holiday.

Trying to Maintain...

I heard something in my 12-step program I repeated to myself no less than four times today.

"How would I act today if I believed that everything was going to turn out exactly the way it needed to be?"


I am working toward the peace and serenity that comes with that belief. It is not natural for me. I want to stick my nose and my hands and my efforts in to help control the results. All I really need to do is breath, and figure out if I have done what is necessary.


Have I? See, that's the question.


Onward.

While trying to maintain, I am getting ready for vacation. Got my trip knitting ready. Must be planning to be on the road for a MONTH! I have lined out to finish...

• Wonderful Guy's alpaca socks
• my mittens and matchey matchey scarf (one mitten half done)
• dishclothes, 3 balls worth (so that inc tribbles)
• unnamed project, half complete
• eyeglass case
• finger puppets
• Barbie project
• yarn for another pair of socks....just in case...

I travel in fear of running out of knitting. Is this normal? I think not, and neither does Wonderful Guy, but he does indulge me.

Also, I have done this. All cut out and ready to sew up for Christmas...

Tomorrow, I pack.

Being Grateful

In times like these, I am glad I have this habit honed to a fine skill.

I have always been able to find those graces in my world for which I was truly thankful for. I would go through 'it' all again for my girls...that is how grateful I am for them. I am thankful for my health, for the opportunities my education gives me, and for getting to live where I do.

I can even be grateful, albeit mostly in retrospect, for those harder lessons that have nevertheless shown me life's greater truths. I am grateful for the changes that have motivated me to grow, as painful as they were at the time. I am grateful for the hard stuff, because I see now that is where the more brilliant facets of my character have been polished from.

But ever once in a while, I have to remind myself to be grateful. Sometimes it happens in the moment. Sometimes it happens after the fact. Sometimes I am reminded by others...oooh, I don't like that so much...

But it always needs to be there for me. Because there's nothing that I can't be grateful for. Even the ugly, nasty stuff. I know that. I have seen that. It is a axiom, proven and recorded. I trust in that truth.

And yet.

I still have to ask myself sometimes, 'I wonder what God in her heaven figures I need to learn from this particular person...'

A Rare Day

I have tried very hard to live life on life's term for the past few years since the dee-vorce. I have learned that try as I might, I cannot control life, other people, and no matter how hard I try to be good and do the right thing, sometimes life is going to take a dump where I am going to take a step.

That's a fact. Not that life has anything in particular against me. That's just the way life is. And I can fight it tooth and nail...and be continually frustrated in seeing my efforts thwarted. Or I can go with the flow.

I prefer to go with the flow nowadays. For the most part, it works for me.

And yet...

I will be tested.

Today was a test for me.

1st thing this morning, Wonderful Guy gave Best Dog Ever his meds, and took Best Dog Ever's med himself. He wasn't going to be poorly affected by the canine meds, but we weren't sure what the blood pressure stuff would do to the dog. A 6:30 AM call to the emergency vet, a call to poison control, to our vet, to the other emergency vet, the realization a call to the animal poison control was necessary ($60 if you are ever going to do that), then our vet called back. End of story: Best Dog Ever is fine, but Wonderful Guy spent some time today chasing squirrels.

Getting dressed, on the radio, I hear an interview with Ted Nugent (old rock and roller turned very active NRA member). And I quote "these guys (refering to Dem rock and rollers) want to achieve peace and love by smoking dope. We get peace and love by killing the bad guys." OMG. I am not advocating the smoking dope part, but I so wanted to ask...who gets to choose who are the bad guys? He followed that by stating that voting for the Obama/Biden ticket was voting for the Communist Party of America. I love to start the morning with idiocy.

One my way to work, I determined donuts were the order of the day, but my little Mom and Pop place was not open. Agh! I have to talk myself into stopping for donuts...and sweet madre de dios! Can they not be open when I do????

Once at work, us employees were expecting some closure to the ongoing pain that has been the financial crisis under which we have been working for about a year. End of September turned into October turned into October 15 at the latest... turned into by the end of last week. I really expected news first thing this morning. Nothing. Nothing at 10am. Nothing at noon. Nothing to even say 'we don't know anything' which I really needed. We did get an update about 3:30PM. Maybe things will be finished up Wednesday. I am not holding my breath. It will happen..eventually. I am just not holding my breath.

Okay. Going with the flow. Not piling stuff on stuff. That's goes nowhere fast, and proves nothing.

Then on the way home, the SUV in front of me, and in the lane to the right pulls up a light, and their dog falls out of the back window, hitting the pavement hard. I am stunned. The light changes. I cannot go. The SUV pulls out and turns the corner. The dog gets up, limps to the curb, and walks relatively well up on the sidewalk. I don't know what to do. Do they realize their dog is gone? The SUV turns corner. I start to go forward as traffic behind me requires. I see the SUV brakes...I am hoping they realized what happened.

I am so soft-hearted for animals. This will be imprinted in my consciousness forever as a half-dozen other incidents involving animals throughout my life. It was a rough thing for me to observe.

Sometimes life is just life.

I had one opportunity for emotional release and this I share with you. I was glad I was alone in cubeland, because I laughed until I cried. Then I watched it again....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ga-ULeG09QY