RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS: A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

Today is Easter.  We had a family brunch late morning/early afternoon.  Now the family has left and the house is quiet.  I'm thinking back on the past month, which has been a challenge both in good ways and in ways not so great.  I feel off-kilter, in transition, leaving some things behind and not quite knowing what is ahead.  Not a state that I relish being in.  But here I am so, present moment thoughts: 

Today, it's a beautiful sunny spring day with daffodils, camelias, and rhodies blooming in my yard; azalea buds offer a peek at the colors they will announce with brilliant fanfare in another week or so.  Cherry blossoms, magnolias, and bright green new leaf buds stand out brilliantly against azure blue skies.  I am always amazed when the life cycle begins anew.  It is a phenomenon I know to expect, but still somehow takes me by surprise.

We missed one daughter-in-law today as she made her way home from a weekend away with friends.  But the rest were here around the table, joining hands to start our meal and each taking a turn saying what we are thankful for.  This family moment of "grace" is a special time whenever we gather.  There is always, from each, the gratitude for us being together, for family, for each other.  Then there might be a special occasion to be grateful for, or a life event, or an appreciation of a sunny day, like today.  Our youngest granddaughter, when she was very little, used to listen to all of us and at her turn she'd say, "I'm thankful for rainbows and unicorns."  We thought it was so sweet and cute.  Now at nine, she participates fully and maturely, but her ending is always, "...AND I'm thankful for rainbows and unicorns", as she pokes good-natured fun at her younger self.  Still so sweet.

She and her big sister, 14, grabbed empty Easter baskets after brunch and headed to the gardens to search for candy-filled eggs.  We all cheered them on, giving them clues, watching as they collected their stash.  We took family photos, inspected the new garden growth, talked about what to plant in the raised beds this year, and made plans for summer family gatherings.

Back inside, full of good food, a few candies begged from the girls, feeling content and happy together, we grew quieter.  

I looked around and thought about my own childhood Easters.  I always had a fancy new dress that was a little stiff and scratchy.  I had patent leather shoes and sometimes a little hat.  I went to Sunday School at the local Methodist church, then sat with my family for the church service, hearing about the Resurrection of Jesus and that he died and came back to life for my sins.  I wasn't sure what all that meant, but I felt sorry for Jesus on that cross and that it had somehow been my fault. I was glad that he'd been brought back from the dead, but I had never seen him.  I much preferred thinking about the Easter basket waiting for me at home, delivered just that morning by the Easter bunny, who I had also never seen, but who left me candy and gifts nonetheless.  Childhood can be a confusing time. 

We are a more secular family.  We celebrate the new life of a new season; we celebrate our love and connection to each other; we wear jeans and sneakers on Easter Sunday.  We look for the good in others, feel the love in our hearts, and try to do good for the world, and in that way, I guess, we are honoring Jesus' teachings even if we don't put on scratchy clothes and take to our church pews.

Like the seasons, life is full of change; nothing remains constant.  There are times of connection and times of longing for connection. But if we are intentional, compassionate, understanding, and loving; if we prioritize those we care about more often than not, share our bounty, share our lives, share our joys and sorrows, and be there for the really big stuff in each other's lives, what is lasting is a place where we are safe and cared for -- all of us -- and in this way we find in each moment an infinity of gratitude. 

On this Easter Sunday I'm incredibly thankful for my life, for the blessings and luck and hard work and privilege to create these connections to family and friends and the lifeforce around me.  

AND I'm thankful for rainbows and unicorns. 🌈🦄

At least that's the view from here...©

THE LAST DAY

 I've intended to write more often this month.  Well....good intentions and reality are different animals, right?  But here I am, on the last day of December, the last day of 2023, sitting down in a reflective mood.  

I have a well-documented love/hate relationship with the holidays.  This year is no exception.  I am so over it today.  But looking back on the season, which for me starts on Thanksgiving, I have much to feel grateful for; mostly, seeing so much of my family.  I have been sad that over the past few years (since the Covid Times) that we see each other less frequently than we used to. Covid kept us apart, and lives changed in other ways that I didn't predict. I've tried various strategies to reach out, keep in touch, encourage texts, etc between visits, but it's been met with somewhat less than enthusiastic response.  Adult children and growing grandchildren have other priorities.  I know.  I did too at their ages.  I just thought the "Magic Mom/Grandma" Seeds I planted would make it different for me.  Ha Ha  Nope.  

But when the holidays come 'round, so does everyone else.  Our family love grows in full flower over the holidays.  We gathered for Thanksgiving. A day later we all went to the Christmas Tree Farm together.  A week later most of us were able to attend  one of Granddaughter One's volleyball games (Hub and I went twice/weekly for several weeks -- so much fun to see her play) and out for pizza afterwards to celebrate Son Two's birthday.  Hub and I went to Granddaughter One's school choir Winter concert.  The next day, DIL Aunt and granddaughters met here to make Krumkaka -- passing on a Norwegian tradition from my family and Aunt's.  A little over a week after that all came over to celebrate my birthday (Hello #73!).  Then it was Christmas Eve together with Son One and his family (Son Two and DIL went to California for Christmas with her family.)  Christmas Day Son One and family were back here for more festivities.   Over Christmas break from school, Hub took 8-1/2 y/o Granddaughter Two snowboarding (a season pass and lessons was her big Christmas gift).  I got to spend a day with 14 y/o Granddaughter One going shopping -- and being fully immersed in the consumer life of an early teen. (She spent hours in Bath and Body Works and Old Navy!)  Son Two and DIL got home and we all gathered again for a second Christmas, the whole family together, yesterday.  Many hugs, much laughter, food, games -- sort of Hallmark-y, actually. I treasure all these together times and know that there will be a bit of a dry spell now when I won't see or hear from them so much.  But Granddaughter Two's BD is coming in late February...

So all in all, a good holiday season, amidst my angst about buying paltry gifts this year, barely decorating, letting others bring a lot of the food, getting tired of logistics at times, and lately just wanting all the red and green to go back in the attic.  

I realize that, like with so much else in 2023, I've let go. I've let go of what I used to do to create Christmas and I just let it unfold with lots of help, a quieter presence, a little less stress.  I've been doing this for a few years and even more this year.  It's different and fine, I think.

Tonight Son One and DIL are hosting a big New Year's Eve party.  Son Two and DIL are heading to good friends' house a ways away to celebrate and spend the night.  Hub and I are staying home, pup-sitting the nervous dog who will NOT be pleased with a houseful of revelers at his home.  I will make some zero-proof drinks for us.  Hub will likely pour a beer or a glass of wine for himself also.  We will eat leftovers from yesterday's family get together.  We might watch a movie.  I will try to stay awake until midnight.  If not, Hub will wake me to watch the official Seattle countdown from the Space Needle on TV.  We will head up to our upper floor covered porch, taking in the lights of the city and watching the informal fireworks going off around us.  We will toast the new year, share a kiss, marvel that this will be our 54th NYE together (including dating) and collapse into bed.  I don't feel I'm missing anything at all with this plan.  It is perfect, as it's been for several years now, to stay home and be quiet.  

At least, that's the view from here...© 

Photo Credit:  Daniel Kim/Seattle Times/2021 (New Years at the Space Needle)

SOUTH CAROLINA VACATION PART 3: ADULT BEVERAGES AND FAMILY LOVE

It's not just in the South, I know.  But it sort of felt that way as I looked over the resort activities each day.  Drinking alcohol is a big thing. People like it.  People want it. People find it fun and carefree and necessary to having a good time.  I don't drink; it's like being perpetually relegated to the Kids Table.  

Here is a selection of activities that included alcohol: Sea Turtles and Tequila* (a nature talk with drinks); Oyster Roast with Wine Pairing*; Local Beer Tasting*; Mimosas To-Go*; Bags & Brews (corn hole tourney); Brew Yoga; Local Rum Tasting and Cocktail Demo; Wine & Cheese Social*; Arnold Palmers on the Porch*.   Starred (*) are the ones the adults in our family did; I went to some, sipping the usual non-alcoholic too sweet soda option, or just water, or I skipped the event and hung out with the kids.  

It's been almost 11 years since my last drink.  You'd think I'd be used to this "one of the kids" feeling by now, but I'm not.  In fact, it's become more isolating with time, to not be part of this ubiquitous social convention around which revolves so much not just joyful consumption, but conversation -- comparing vintages, brews, tastes.  Thankfully, no one in my family over-indulges, so I don't know why it bugs me. I just always wonder what the big attraction is.  But I'm in the minority for sure;  I realize I have some work to do around being a bit judge-y about the automatic assumption that every social gathering requires alcohol to be considered enjoyable.  Still, I secretly appreciate it when someone says "no thanks" to a drink.  I feel like I'm not so alone.  Plus, it feels like that person is making an intentional decision about what they drink, rather than a knee-jerk acquiescence to social conventions.  Anyway, I loved the Milk and Oreo Cookies event the grandkids and I went to.  I fit right in! LOL

To end this vacation recap, it's appropriate that I sit down to finish this series on Fathers Day morning.  Our sons and their families will be here this afternoon to celebrate together: Hub being a dad, Son One being a dad, and bugging Son Two to become a dad.  LOL   And I think back on all the family gatherings of my earlier life, before Hub and I moved away from our home state and before the rest of my family also scattered across the U.S. and before we lost so many to the inevitable "big move" -- death.  

My parents have died, as well as my only siblings, my two brothers, and this year my older brother's wife, my sister-in-law, also died.  My older brother's daughter,  my niece, and her family live in Arizona.  My younger brother's family, my sis-in-law, nephew, and niece and her family live in Georgia.  We have not all been in the same place together since my mom's memorial service in 2008.  It is decidedly strange to be the only living member of my original nuclear family.  It's lonely at times.  

I have a good friend who still has her siblings, the in-laws, all the nieces, nephews, their families, cousins and on and on living near enough to continue to share holidays and rites of passage together.  I envy that.  I realize that when I sit and reminisce, I have no one to fact check with, to laugh with over old times, to just remember a shared experience. Since I've known Hub since high school, he of course plays a big role in walks down memory lane, but his memories of my family life are different and truncated.  

Our family holidays and meaningful moments have mostly been just the four of us -- no extended family to share with, so our sons have not had the experience I did of so many fun and/or "boring" times celebrating a distant cousins' wedding, a great aunt and uncle's anniversary, a grandparent's repeated stories of life on the farm or whatever.  I am sad about that; it's a part of family life that for us was missing except for the annual summer trips back to Illinois for a week.  My sons' memories are of seeing extended family while on vacation -- not as a daily part of their lives.

So we were delighted to welcome our Savannah family to join us on Hilton Head.  One look at my sis-in-law and I was in tears.  First of all, I adore her.  I love this kind, determined, strong, funny, loving, no B.S. woman!  Like Hub, she knows my history at least going back to the 70's and that's getting to be a long time.  When we talk, we can talk in the shorthand of one who knew each other "when" -- through good times and bad, great haircuts and awful, weight fluctuations, stupid decisions, little apartments, cross-country moves, 80's shoulder pads.  We know about being parents and now grandparents.  We know what shared heartache and joy feel like.  We were there for a lot of the big stuff in each other's lives.

Her kids, my niece and nephew, joined us too, with my niece's husband and their kids.  I thought of the generations sitting around the picnic table, our son and my niece sharing their memories of childhood antics during our annual visits, their shared memories of grandma and grandpa, their sort of stunned disbelief that they now have children of their own sitting with us, the younger generation getting to know each other as cousins for the first time.  I had tears in my eyes almost constantly; I'm a sucker for this family connection stuff.  It means the world to me.  

We spent one whole day together early in our trip, then at the end my niece and her kids came for another day of hanging out at the pool.  The following day was travel day for us although on different flights and airports.  My niece invited Son One and his crew to spend the day at her house before their evening flight.  My son said that when they showed up there my sis-in-law and nephew were there as well and they spent the day together watching the kids play, continuing to reminisce, and then bidding a tearful, hugging goodbye to each other.  My son has a heart as tender as mine when it comes to family and I could hear in his voice the deep gratitude and emotion he felt at having had this time together.  There are always good intentions to see each other more often, but then work, school, responsibilities, obligations and the fact of living 3000 miles apart become the realities that thwart those good intentions.  I'm glad we had this -- and hope we can do it again.

And that's the story of our vacation.  I'm not sure it warranted a 3-part series, but since I write this blog not only to share life observations with others who may be able to relate, but also as a documentation of sorts for myself and my family, it seemed special enough to dwell on it a bit.  May we all create special times with those we love.  Cheers!🥛 

At least, that's the view from here...©

Family Silhouette Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

SOUTH CAROLINA VACATION PART 2: SO GREAT...AND ALMOST ANOTHER E.R. VISIT!

If you read Part 1 you know our recent trip to Hilton Head, South Carolina didn't start out so swell.  I'm happy to report the rest of the trip was better than expected, but ended on another bit of a low note.  Such is life, huh?

So...where did I leave off?  Oh yes, we were waiting for Son One and his family to arrive at the resort on Hilton Head.  They did and it was great to welcome them!  

Frankly I had a wee bit of trepidation about a weeklong family vacation.  But then I have trepidation about a lot of things.  (I'm working on that.)  I tend to ruminate on all that could go wrong and try to mitigate it before it even happens.  It's exhausting.  By now I should know that my rumination and pre-problem solving does nothing to help and most of the time my fears never come to pass.  The things I don't see coming in a million years happen instead (Hub in the E.R.) and I then I realize that I deal with those things just fine, so go figure.  

Anyway, sometimes family togetherness gets tense.  There are the inevitable frustrations, compromises, misunderstandings, grumpiness....human stuff.  But I'm here to tell ya, NONE OF THAT HAPPENED!  Seriously!  Everyone was in good spirits; we were in almost 100% agreement on our joint activities; we had plenty of time together and ample time apart.  We even joyfully welcomed extended family from Savannah to join us for a day-long family reunion early on and got to see them again a week later as the vacation came to a close.  Whatever fretting I had done pre-trip was wasted time and energy.  (Note to self: knock it off!)

The weather was fabulous -- mid-upper 80's and sunny.  There were three swimming pools and the beach a 5 minute walk away.    The tree canopied courtyard area, which our villa overlooked, had a covered grilling/picnic area, a shuffleboard courts, table tennis, corn hole, foosball, a fire ring, and one of the pools nearby.  Where Son and fam had their villa (a 4 minute walk from ours) they overlooked the "kid" pool with a walk-in splash pool entrance and one of those enclosed twirly slides on the deep end.  Our 7 year old granddaughter started the week unsure of putting her face in the water and ended the week with a swim across the pool and diving down to retrieve pool toys on the bottom of the pool.   Proud moment.

The resort had daily activities, which was unexpected. One of my worries was "Will the kids be bored"?  "Will the adults"?  We all ended up loving planning which activities to do together each day!  Nature talks (sea turtles were nesting and we learned all about it!); birds of prey (with live owls!); stargazing (watched the moonrise over the Atlantic); various trivia games that both kids and adults could enjoy (our 12 yr old granddaughter won the Marvel Cinematic Universe contest and I'm sure would have won Harry Potter had we had time to go that day); Campfire S'mores and storytelling by the oceanside firepit; "Name that Tune" "Junk Food Bingo" and Disney trivia games at one of the pools; Milk & Cookies Oreo taste testing (who knew there were a dozen flavors of Oreos?!?).  We didn't make it to the popcorn bar, the ice cream sundaes and floats, tie-dye tees, guided beach strolls and bike trips and movie nights, and Civil War history, and various game tournaments in the courtyard and many other options.  As you can tell, there was no reason to be moping in the room making claims of "boredom"!  Nor was anyone staring at a cell phone to pass the time.

On top of that, one day we rented kayaks and hit the inland waterways through the marshlands paddling alongside dolphins leaping beside us, including a mama and her baby.  Afterward we had a creekside seafood lunch which featured so many oysters!

With so much to do on the resort grounds, we spent less time on the beach than I had anticipated.  Hub and I went for a daily 4 mile beach walk but as a family we didn't have many "just beach" days.  For me, there is zero shade and I'm not into baking all day on the hot sand exposing my poor white girl body to yet more skin-cancer rays.  Been there, done that, and still treating it!  But with only 2 days to go on the trip,  we declared a beach day.  We spread out on the sand, away from the most crowded part of the beach.  We were all eager to jump into the warm sea to frolic in the gentle rolling waves.  Hub and I had such pleasant memories of when we lived in South Carolina on the Isle of Palms where going to the beach and splashing in the ocean was a daily event.  We were excited to share that experience with our grandkids.  And we all were having such a great time, until....

Our 12 year old granddaughter suddenly started yelling for help.  Hub and I were on the beach and saw her making her way out of the water limping on one foot, crying.  We ran to help her, with her parents not far away in the water making their way to her as well.  She cried, "Something bit me!"  We assumed it was nothing...sometimes a little fish will take a nip.  But her foot was bleeding and she was obviously in great pain.  Her dad ran to get help while we tried to comfort her by elevating her foot and putting some ice on it.  WRONG!!!  The beach patrol immediately diagnosed a stingray "stinger" attack and said to get the foot down and apply the hottest compress we could to draw the venom out.  He had a hot pack with him, which he taped to her foot, but advised we get her back to the room to soak her foot in very, very hot water.  

That was no easy task.  We were quite a ways down the beach, away from the villas, and she was in no shape to walk.  Hub and our son got on either side of her and "fireman carried" her all the way -- about a 10 minute or so walk over the sand and through the resort grounds.  Our villa was closest so we got her there, seated on the side of the tub with her foot submerged in hot water. It took about an hour before she felt some relief, but by later that day she was walking around just fine, if a little sore and a bit traumatized.

During all the drama, of course I Googled stingray stings only to find that the Hilton Head E.R. sees about 200 patients a year for stingray attacks, especially during the season when they are most prevalent, May-June -- just when we were there!  A more severe attack would have required an E.R. visit but we determined there were no big spines in her foot; it was likely a glancing blow, but certainly enough to really, really hurt.  Now we know to do the "stingray shuffle" by dragging our feet through the sand so the stingrays can scurry away instead of getting stomped on by ignorant tourists jumping up and down in water like we were!

Vacations are made of many memories.  We made some good ones...and some that make a good story only after the fact.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

P.S. Stay tuned for Part 3 -- adult drinks and the sweet heart-space of family reunited.

LAZY BRAIN

I don't know....I don't even want to write this post.  I don't want to do anything. 

I feel worn out.  Exhausted.  Lethargic.  Not physically exactly, but mentally.

I'm surprised by this.  Six days ago I came home from a nearly 3 week Hawaiian vacation -- perhaps my best trip there ever, which is saying a lot since we've gone annually for over 20 years.  And it was totally chill and relaxing.

The day after we got home I tackled a long to-do list in preparation for a big family gathering the next day for Father's Day, a DIL birthday, and a little thing we decided to surprise the fam with -- Christmas in June, since Covid stole our family Christmas gathering.  We put up a small tree and I spent a couple hours getting all the cute and kitschy Hawaii souvenir gifts Christmas-wrapped and under the tree for the family members.  They seemed to be delighted by the surprise and we all had a great time together with a picnic dinner on the deck (the year's first cedar plank grilled Sockeye salmon! Yum!) and celebration of special days.

The very next day, our granddaughters and their year old pup arrived for a 4 day stay.  So this week has been a whirlwind of high energy, non-stop activities, and puppy chaos.   Our 11 y/o asked to have a friend here for a sleepover and I said yes since I know this girl and she is sweet and polite.  So we went shopping for junk food, picked her up, and came back to all girls, all the time giggling and eating and singing and dancing and playing darts and pool and painting pictures, playing games, watching some noisy something or other on Netflix...on and on.  Our 6 y/o was not left out; there were remarkably few arguments as the big girls welcomed her into their orbit.  But we discovered that our Kid Friendly supper of pizza didn't work for our sleepover guest who has a allergy to something in pizza (not the cheese, she says), so I prepared something else for her at the last minute.  They were all asleep by 11:00 which I considered a victory.

Next day Hub made everybody pancakes (he's our breakfast and dinner cook for the week) and we set up a homemade "slip and slide" in the yard and turned on the sprinklers.  The puppy chased the sliders across the visqueen slippery surface, tearing it with his toenails, and barking incessantly, so he had to be leashed and quieted but it ended up being fun for all. Even Hub took a few turns and the girls thought it was pretty cool that their grandpa could show them a few moves -- he got out the Boogie Board and showed them how to run and lay on that for extra slippery sliding.  When the friend went home, we started making paper mache volcanoes, ate supper, went for a neighborhood walk, watched a movie.

Yesterday I drove 11 y/o to her friend's house 15 miles south for a day with her family to celebrate the friend's last day of school with a swim party.  So the 6 y/o had us to herself.   Hub made her some breakfast and played a game of darts. She and I shopped for paint to paint the volcanoes, painted that and other things, made felted animals from a kit, read a book, took some quiet time with her favorite kid YouTube videos while I scrolled FB,  picked a first early bowl of raspberries from the garden, had a "spa day" whirlpool bath with bath bomb and fancy shampoo, ate supper on the deck and then watched a movie, during which her sister came home.  Interspersed were lots of get this get that, eat this eat that, clean up this clean up that...take the pup out, mop up spilled paint, sweep crumbs, find lost thises and thats...sigh.  

Today...11 y/o will paint her volcano.  We hope to blast them today!  I don't know what else we will do. I do know we all love each other beyond measure and we've had a great time.  AND we will all be waiting to get the ETA text from Mom and Dad.  LOL  

So, I guess my low energy is really internal, since externally I've been really putting it out there non-stop since we got home.  

But I still worry a bit that I don't seem to be able to concentrate on much, even before this week, even while on vacation -- so many good intentions for reading my many half-read books, doing some voter suppression activism calls, taking all the classes and webinars I've registered for about yoga and brain neuro-plasticity info that I'm passionate about, listening to podcasts from which I've fallen behind. I worry that I have very little interest in seeing people, and even some resentment that everyone wants to forget the pandemic even happened and now we should just all resume regular programming.  No!  

This sounds like depression, but it is NOT.  I know depression as an old, familiar, and sometimes intimate companion and this is not it.  But what is it?

I just want to sit and stare.  Breathe.  Practice some yoga.  Watch stuff on TV.  (I have a list.) I don't want to think about my ignored gardening chores, or all the summer house projects we intend, or plan or do anything much at all.  My brain seems to be barely online.  My body just wants to walk, stretch, maybe float in a kayak, and sip a cool drink.

We will have outrageously hot temps this weekend and into next week for our part of the country -- mid-upper 90s.  It's rare to have home A/C here so it will be very uncomfortable.  I plan to do as little as possible.  This might be my chance to just "veg" and figure out why I'm so uninterested in "doing" and for a few days just be content to "be".

At least, that's the view from here...©

SIGH

I've been fighting all day NOT to write this blog post.  But my promise to tell the truth about my life is prompting me forward.  I have to believe we are all struggling -- maybe not in exactly the same way, but close enough.  See if you can relate...

December in American culture is the Christmas season -- whether sacred or secular you can't escape it.  There are traditions that are sacrosanct: lights, trees, Santas, carols, gifts, foods, parties, family gatherings.  This year there is also a deadly and highly contagious virus floating on the air amongst us.  This wrecks havoc with the way things are supposed to be.  

Throughout much of the past year we've dealt with inconveniences and disappointments and cancelled plans because of the Covid-19 pandemic.  We should be used to it; more resilient by now.  But THIS IS CHRISTMAS!  NOBODY MESSES WITH CHRISTMAS!  Right?

Here are the current stats:  U.S. 18.5 million confirmed cases; 325,000 deaths.  In my county: 19,000 cases, 338 deaths.  And it's getting worse.  Everywhere case numbers are rising.  Deaths are over 3,000 daily in the U.S. 

Given these grim statistics, what are we to do about Christmas?  Some, of course, are doing as they normally would, ignoring all pleas from responsible politicians and public health officials to please, please, please not travel or gather at Grandma's house.  The deniers have shown up at super spreader events throughout this nightmare, cocksure that the virus doesn't pertain to them, facts be damned.  A lot of them are getting away with it personally (who knows how many others they've infected or how much they increased the burden on health care providers?) but some have not and have lost their lives or at least life as they knew it. No matter, apparently.  No lesson learned.

But some of us have taken strict precautions, sacrificing holidays and hugs from the grandkids, trips, errands, haircuts, and dental appointments.  We've only seen the people we love via Zoom.  Nothing about our lives has been normal for nearly a year.  With two vaccines now approved and rolled out to the first priority recipients, we can see light at the end of the tunnel -- but must wait our turn in the queue -- which will take months to complete.  

While waiting we come up against Christmas, already a highly emotional holiday.  This year I find I am both relieved of any expectations of creating the holiday magic AND deeply disappointed and in grief about cancelling any family gatherings.  I won't see the grandkids opening their gifts, no Christmas Eve buffet with all the goodies we bring and share, no family jigsaw puzzles where Hub and my daughters-in-law reign, no Son-One naps by the fireplace, no hugs and laughs  and stories and memories to be made.  We will be each in their own little square on the Zoom app on the computer for an hour or so at some point.  That's it.  

We tried to negotiate a way around it.  We all say we are being "careful" but each part of our little extended family has a slightly different definition of careful and trying to accommodate that proved to be too hard.   We thought we'd be pretty safe if we were outside on our covered porch, heaters going, but with food and gifts and kids, we knew we couldn't distance enough or keep masks on...it just got too logistically daunting. Tensions rose at our house trying to figure this out; frustration reigned for all with each shift of plan.  So, we just called it off; not in anger but in defeat.  No one is happy.  Everyone is resigned.  We all still love and respect each other.  And this whole thing sucks.

I take comfort in knowing that we are sacrificing for a greater good -- our continued health and that of those we love and those in our community.  I take comfort in knowing that sometime in the coming months we will get the vaccine and can make up for lost time.  

Still, this is Christmas.  This is hard.  Harder than the other losses of togetherness.  Hub and I will be alone for the holiday for the first time in the 52 years of our relationship (48 married).  That's a weird thing.  But we are not the only ones in this situation and we are blessed to have each other and a warm comfortable home to isolate within.  I count my blessings....as the tears fall.

If you feel similarly, I see you.  I'm with you.  We can do this.  But we don't have to put a smiley face on it every damn minute.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

WE HAD A SCARY PARTY

Of course, within days of our Family Halloween Party the newest Covid numbers in the County were released and they are not good.  In fact, they are the worst since last March when all of this was taking us by storm.  The rising numbers are for all age groups and mostly due to "roommate, friend and/or family indoor gatherings" where mask wearing is sporadic if at all. 

So, this morning, when I felt chilled (likely because it's chilly in the house with fall temps and damp fog permeating our living space), I assumed I had "The Covid".  I assumed this with the irrational fear, and absolute conviction, that comes with being an anxiety sufferer even when we do not have a deadly pandemic hiding in plain sight. (BOO!)  I did try to talk myself down, Hub reminded me I was using worry to project myself into a future that I didn't want (ICU, ventilator, etc, etc.),  and I meditated.  All were helpful to a degree.  And still....did we make a mistake with the party?

We spent weeks figuring out how to gather safely indoors now that outdoor gatherings would be slightly miserable (cold and wet).  We decided to clean and clear our garage, hang fabric shower curtain liners over the open shelving, string party lights, set up tables and chairs at least 8 feet apart for each family unit.  We had hand sanitizer and sanitizing wipes at the ready.  We told everyone that costumes were optional but masks were mandatory.

Hub should have a degree in indoor ventilation by now with his research into, and buying of, HEPA Air Purifiers -- six of them! -- set strategically in the garage and the adjacent Game Room (pool table, darts, foosball).  He opened doors and windows and put box fans in windows opposite to draw air through the rooms, creating adequate flow to eliminate "dead air" spaces.  He tested this by carrying a lit candle around watching which way the flame bent.  

When we all gathered (Son One and his family, Son Two and his wife) we went outside to the yard to do a Candy Hunt.  Having lost Easter to Covid lockdown, I decided to create the traditional Easter Egg Hunt, but with Halloween candies inside the plastic eggs.  The grand-girls loved it.  Then we came in to the snacks I had spent all day creating.  Big hit.  Our 11 y/o granddaughter brought a dip and some cookies too -- she's turned into quite the cook/baker!  Then we carved pumpkins together, displaying the finished masterpieces.  A light supper of homemade (all from scratch, of which I am inordinately proud, since I don't normally cook) pumpkin soup, chili, cornbread, and pumpkin cake for dessert came last.  A few of us played a game of pool, some sat and visited together.  Then it was over.  Days and days of planning, two full days of work to cook, set up, and orchestrate and it was over in about 3-1/2 hours.  We were exhausted.  But we think we created a safe and memorable experience.

Still, is that what every family thinks, even those who end up with Covid in their midst?  We did remove masks to eat, to sip beverages, but masks were on at all other times...except our little 5 y/o who has such a hard time keeping her mask on and her distance from us, but I noticed she's much better with the mask if she does come close.  We did stay at least (usually more than) six feet apart.  Even with all our ventilation, was this too big a risk?  I think of all those going to restaurants, maskless, surrounded by strangers, eating and drinking, and who knows which way the indoor air is blowing, if at all?   Our party had to be safer than that, right?

I will be so grateful for the day when seeing my family doesn't include the "countdown to symptoms" anxiety that I felt this morning.  This is Day 5 post-party.  So far so good....

At least, that's the view from here...©

THE HARDEST PART

Almost every morning, after I get my coffee and find my seat in front of the 'staring window' of our living room -- the big window on the world and our busy bird feeders -- I sit in the silence of my home and feel my heart break.  Almost every morning the pain of that broken heart moves me to tears.

Love and grief are two sides of the same coin, they say.  You cannot grieve if you have not loved. And loving will inevitably lead, one day, to grief.

I've been thinking of this pandemic, now having spanned winter, into spring, into summer, and have wondered out loud to myself and others, "What's the hardest part?"  For many in my age group it's  the loss of routine, the loss of freedom to go and do as "normal", the long days of at home-ness where one day follows the next in a kind of monotony; the alone-ness.

I am not bored; I am not even alone. Hub and I have cocooned companionably together.  We have mastered Zoom to stay in touch with friends and go to meetings and both have enough interests and curiosity to keep us occupied and stimulated.  We like our simple routines; we like quiet; we like our home and the gardens.  We are mainly content.

So, the hardest part?  For me it is the disconnect from family: my sons, their wives, my two granddaughters.   We have stayed in touch on Zoom, at times unsatisfactorily, especially early on when everyone was shellshocked and stressed.  I have screen shots of some pretty sad and exhausted faces.  But it was better than nothing at all, so we persevered for several weekly meet-ups. 

Then I set up a FB Messenger Family Group which has been more successful, with almost all of us posting updates, photos, and items of interest as the spirit moves.  That's been fun.  On Messenger I did two months of an every morning post of "Mr. Bear's Stay at Home Adventures" for our 5 y/o granddaughter.  I didn't want her to forget our house or her favorite activities here, so I posed her big Teddy Bear in familiar settings doing familiar things and sent her a photo every day.  In response, my son sent a video of her replying to Mr. Bear.  It was a highlight of my day!  (I later created a paperback book of the 60+ Mr. Bear photos for her to keep.)

With the weather turning warmer, and the local cases of Covid flattening out, we've invited some or all of the family here in person for outdoor gatherings.  We physically distance; don't touch anything in common; keep the sanitizer handy.  Hub and I have prepared and served meals in our garden space, with individual tables set far apart.  It's been fun and A LOT of work -- hauling tables and chairs, figuring out the logistics of foods on each separate table -- we essentially set it up like a restaurant and we are the chefs and servers and clean up crew.  The distance from kitchen to yard is such that I get my 10,000 steps in by the time I'm done setting up and executing the event.  Last week we added cards and gifts for everyone -- we had Fathers Day, a daughter-in-law birthday, last day of school, last day of preschool, and a wedding to celebrate!

A wedding....yes.  Son Two and his beautiful fiance were married on May 9.  I can't believe I haven't written about it.  It's a sign of this time that a fog rolls in on what should be a bright day of joy, but ends up feeling unreal, shrouded, physically and emotionally distanced.  They had a big wedding for 250 guests planned with all the traditional bells and whistles. Then the shutdown came.  They agonized over what to do, with several scenarios swirling until, finally, they did all they could do:  they got married in their backyard with two witnesses, an officiant, and a photographer.  The two extended families attended via Zoom.  It took an age for the audio to work, then during the ceremony the screen kept freezing up.  But still, we got to see as best we could, if not really participate.  We are grateful it was a glorious sunshiny day for them.  I loved getting the professional photos -- absolutely lovely.  They rescheduled the big party/reception for later this summer, or if not, then maybe next spring -- there are no guarantees that it will happen; we don't know how long this pandemic will rage.  It is not what they wanted, not at all what any of us could have anticipated for this wedding 18 months in the planning, but they are wed.  They are happy.  And we are proud.

But none of this is how I want it to be.   I especially miss having my grandgirls here to hang out....so many times they would come for the day, or a sleepover.  At the family gathering I read a book (from 8 feet away) to our 5 y/o and she got tears in her eyes and said, "I want to hug you so bad!"  And I said the same, choking back my own tears.  Then I told her to wrap her arms around herself; I did the same.  And we pretended we were hugging each other.  I told her I hug her in my heart every day.  It was a bittersweet moment.   Our 10 y/o granddaughter is changing so fast I feel like I'm missing precious time with her before her interests turn more toward friends and my close relationship with her will take a back seat.  For awhile we Zoomed regularly, then it fell by the wayside as she got busy with online school, her best friend on Messenger Kids, and a new puppy.

As for my sons and their wives -- at first I sent them texts regularly, checking in, offering encouragement, support.  But I rarely heard much back and thought maybe I was hovering too much.  So I stopped doing that, making a declaration to myself on May 2 to back off.  I also moved them from my custom FB friend list where I think they might be overwhelmed with all my brilliant posting of current events, politics, inspirations, information, and selfies.   It just seemed like maybe I was trying to create something that was a one-sided desire, since I realized too many of my FB posts were clandestine messages to them and then I looked with hope for a "like" or a comment.  My god, embarrassing!

I don't mean to imply we are not close; we are.  When we are together it's wonderful and we have a great time. But when we are apart I'm still trying (too hard) to keep that connection going.  They, as it turns out, have full, busy, stressful, joyful, challenging lives that don't include daily outreach to Mom.

This has been the hardest part -- my longing for a closer connection, for more reciprocity from my 'kids'.   What I've grown to see even more clearly is that that longing comes from a perspective of ages and stages.  I know in my 69 year old bones how precious life is; how fragile; how fleeting.  That is the grief side of the coin. Because the love side is how deeply I cherish my family and wish for us to rush into a regular huddle hug, even via text.  But alas...

I was amused to hear the four 30-something "kids" talking about birthdays at our recent backyard dinner and a couple of them now being "mid-30's" and sort of already dreading the big 4-0.  They laughed about the new puppy and that if he lives his expected 15 years, they will be 50!!!...and how shocking that was to realize.  I offered that when I think 15 years ahead, I hope to still be alive. They looked a bit shocked at that.  They think we are here forever.  They think we all have all the time in the world.  We do not.

The hardest part?  That this virus has robbed us all of precious time together.  That this virus is deadly and to thwart it we must sacrifice irretrievable moments of deep connection, of sharing space together, of hugging not just with our hearts, but also with our arms.  That realization, every day, brings me to tears.  Then, I take a deep breath, find gratitude in health and so much more, and carry on.

At least, that's the view from here...©

THE REAL DEAL

I TAKE IT ALL BACK!  The reason sappy and maudlin is so silly is that it's often based in fantasy.  (See post from 4/21/19).

Real deal on yesterday's Easter gathering:

I spent early Easter morning putting the finishing touches on the Easter baskets for the girls and hiding them.  I made sure all the stuffed eggs were ready to be hidden outside.  I set the table and pulled together a craft project for the girls to help decorate the table when they arrived.  I put on a pretty, frilly, lavender tunic and even earrings(!) instead of my usual hoodie.  I looked pretty!

Hub is the cook and he started to prep food.  Then we had a slight disagreement over whether he should prepare veggie-free eggs for the grandgirls who are picky about any weird things in their "normal" food.  I thought they'd balk at the veggie scramble and lobbied for plain "cheesy eggs", their favorite.  I won the argument, but the oldest decided to eat the scramble and the youngest decided not to eat her eggs at all.  (Well, except for plowing through the whites of 4 hardboiled eggs of various dyed colors.)  He was later happy to point this out to me and I recognized my tendency to anticipate and mitigate any possible discomfort others may experience.  (Apparently I will never learn to let well enough alone in that regard.)

Son One's family arrived first with smiles, hugs, and a giant fruit salad.  Son Two and his fiance arrived late with biscotti, their puppy, and what I perceived as a surly attitude from Son Two.  I went in for a hug, which was brief and returned without enthusiasm as he brushed by, mumbling, "I just need some coffee..." and made a beeline for the pot.  OK then.

I got the girls busy on the craft project as the adults gathered in the kitchen for coffee, biscotti, and mimosas.  Soon it felt the youngest granddaughter had been gone too long.  I went searching and found her alone in the bathroom, door closed.  Uh-oh.  I had hidden her Easter basket in the tub, thinking she wouldn't need to use the bathroom right away before the basket hunt commenced.  Well, she had found it and, alone, emptied it all over the bathroom floor.  My fantasy of all the adults going on the basket hunt, encouraging the girls, then sitting around them and oooing and ahhhing as they discovered the cool things the Easter Bunny had brought was dashed.

I was not upset with her, just asked her to bring her things out for all to see.  She refused.  She gathered them up, and decided to head to the closet in the Girls Room and wouldn't let anyone else see her things.  We left her to it.  Then again, it seemed she was gone a long time.  Oops.  The door had closed and she'd become "locked in" and no one heard her calling out.  It was only a brief time, but likely scary.  Once rescued, she still refused to let us all see her Easter things.

Big sister decided not to hunt for her basket right away and wanted to wait until after eating, at which point she went searching alone and unannounced and brought her basket to the kitchen and unloaded it on the countertop with only her dad and me standing by to watch; again thwarting my idea of having this be one of the highlights of the morning.  Oh well.

Brunch was yummy, although my meal was interrupted by youngest granddaughter needing to go potty and she strongly believes only I can help her.  This is a common occurrence and I don't mind at all; I've grown accustomed to eating cold food. 😉   At the end of the meal, our two family Game of Thrones nerds spent considerable time going over every plot point and fan theory of how it will all end.  I watch and enjoy, but had no idea the depth of knowledge and thought others put into it!  They were alone at the table by the time they'd realized the rest of us had moved on to other things.

After brunch Son Two, fully caffeinated at this point and in better spirits, went outside with me to the yard to hide plastic eggs.  Puppy came along and went wild running and rolling in the grass -- and finding the eggs!  We had to extract a couple from his excited jaws, but he'd downed the gummy worms and yogurt covered pretzels and was on the hunt for more, so we dashed around gathering up the lowest lying eggs and repositioning them, hoping the youngest would be able to find and reach them.

The hunt was mostly successful except for the puppy getting super excited to see what was in the baskets and at one point the youngest raised her basket over her head to protect her stash from curious pup, but she tipped the basket and all the eggs came tumbling down just at the edge of the yard where it drops off precipitously, but not too dangerously since there are thick bushes there.  Still, the eggs rolled out of sight, down the hill and under the bushes, necessitating Son One to go bush-whacking to retrieve them.  (We suspect a few are still down there since we came up short in the end.)

The girls brought their eggs inside and emptied the goodies into bowls but I soon discovered my attempt at "healthy treats" was not met with enthusiasm.  Guess nobody really likes dried banana chips or candied fruit.  The yogurt covered pretzels and cranberries were a hit, as were the Cheezits and gummy worms.  Good thing they each got one chocolate bunny in their baskets with toys, books, crafts, and clothes.

While the adults settled into various combinations of adult conversation, I spent time playing pretend with the girls (especially the little one) in a different room.  It was fun and the stuff of memories, but I also wanted to be part of the adult conversations.  I stole away from fantasy play for awhile to join in, continuing to take photos as I'd done all day, already planning my Facebook photo montage.  But at one point the talk turned to social media and Son One admonished me for my prolific posts.  (He who posts NOTHING, but obviously still looks at FB!)  My feelings got a little hurt, told him so, and he apologized, but point taken.  I only posted one photo of the day that night and let it go.  I've been told before by him (and others) that I post too much, and I realize more than hurt, I feel embarrassed, so again I'm going to limit my FB participation.  My desire for connections there with people I care about are rarely reciprocated anyway -- take a hint, Donna!

By mid-afternoon we were winding down...Son Two and Future DIL had other plans so they hit the road back to Seattle.  The grandgirls had been up at dawn for Easter baskets at their house, so they and their mom and dad were tired and ready for quieter family time and headed home too.  Alone, Hub and I looked at the remains of the day -- Easter grass everywhere, some tracked in mud from the garden, a stack of dishes to go in the dishwasher, Easter decorations to be dismantled and put back in the attic.  We had some work still to do.

As I went about the clean up tasks, I had to admit, it had not been perfect.  But my minor disappointments were just part of the experience.  I was grateful to have a family where no one yelled; no one hit their kids (we don't do that in our family!); the pup didn't run away or poop on the carpet; no one slammed doors or left in a huff; no one got drunk or fell asleep or turned on the TV to escape; no one even looked at their cell phones for any length of time -- only mostly to take photos.  As family togetherness goes, we do a pretty darn good job.  At the end of our time together, everyone eagerly got out their calendar to schedule the next family gathering, which will likely also be imperfectly real...and on it goes.

At least, that's the view from here...©
Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

ALL IN THE FAMILY

I don't write about my family all that much, as much as to protect their privacy as to not bore my readers.  But sometimes if feels there is a whole, important swath of my life I'm leaving out.  Lots of bloggers use their families for regular fodder, I just don't.   But, oops, here goes....

First, it's hard to write about them without getting sappy and maudlin, which reminds me of when I used to drink.  That was me after my third glass of chardonnay.  That or self-pitying.  Either way, not attractive, so I try to avoid sappy and maudlin.  Still....I do love my family members to the point of tears, which I try to keep private with moderate success.

I really am so lucky to be married to the same man for almost 47 years.  We met in high school; such a cliche to say "my high school sweetheart".  I don't know that we were ever "sweethearts", which has such an innocent ring to it.  Saying we were high school "mutual lust objects" might be closer to the truth.  That lasted awhile.  But by the time the initial "blush" wore off, we were basically unable or unwilling to disentangle our single selves from our coupledom, which had grown to include families, friends, common experiences, a few tragedies, and lots of fun times.  You know, relationship stuff.  There were stress points for sure and brief "time outs" but 4 years into it all we got married and on it went.  We had MANY stress points in our early married years and one big year-long time out when we lived separately, but then, well, we were still us and we decided to move to the East Coast together and take it one day at a time.  Then we moved to the West Coast and began our true "adult" lives and I guess we are still doing that. 

But sometimes things are still hard.  We haven't had the very best start to 2019.  It seems we've been drifting a bit, butting heads a bit, feeling our way into what I think is a new age and stage of life and marriage.  Neither of us is blameless just as neither of us is to blame either.  Life just gets messy and we've never been on this road before.  It's like when we travel and don't know where to turn, where to eat, where to find lodging; tempers flare for a time, then calm down, then we laugh, then it all starts again until we get familiar with the new territory.

We just returned from a vacation where one night, in the midst of another of our marathon 'processing' conversations,  I went into non-alcohol-fueled self-pity mode and decided he was a saint for putting up with me over all these decades.  I cried and told him I would understand if he was just finished with me.  I told him I'd understand if he wanted to just divorce, move on, and have the life he deserved.  I was obviously out of my mind, and he knew it.  He looked at me and with a weary sigh, said, "Now why would I want to do that?  I love you."  See?  Sainthood.  We are now past that storm; there will be others.  But we are still us.  Still here.  To the end, no doubt.

My sons.  I worry that I'm forgetting details of their childhoods that I thought I'd always remember.  I really need to get my old photos out of the box and remind myself of our lives back then.  I was a faithful journal-keeper too, but those journals likely make me sound like the most depressed, pissed off, overwhelmed woman on earth.  They were my place of catharsis when times were hard.  And times tended to be hard for a woman/wife/mother who was trying to be "supermom" and emotionally and physically exhausted from it all a lot of the time.  That said, those boys were my world, and seeing them now as adults, one with children of his own, is a little disorienting.  In their early 30's, successful, happy, independent, in loving relationships, eager to be part of family life with the rest of us, excited to gather for our weekly Family Dinners and holidays and birthdays...it really does bring me to tears of gratitude....

....which are different tears from those shed over childhood sibling battles (there are literal scars);  calls from frustrated teachers, teenaged broken hearts, alcohol and pot experimentation, college "antics" (that's not at all the right word and I'm sure I don't know the half of it), and times when the necessary separation from "mommy" made me feel kicked to the curb (and broken hearted) in spite of all my efforts to always be close to them.

There are no insurance policies against the bad stuff happening, so I'm glad those years were full of great and wonderful and fun times too: First girlfriends, school dances, football and crew, smart, funny friends hanging out at the house, long conversations, and many, many family trips and outings.  I'm grateful we moved through the hard stuff and came out OK, actually great, on the other side.  I'm thankful for every moment of the good stuff....and I still miss it some as the "boys" have moved their allegiances, experiences, and confidences to share with their women, as it should be, but still....

Grandkids.  I never really thought about having grandchildren.  I guess there is the whole 'circle of life' thing where on some level if you have kids you might assume one day there will be grandkids, but that's no guarantee, especially these days when any number of people forgo marriage and/or children.  It's all good.  So I just figured I'd sit back and see what happened.  What happened is Son One married a woman who had a baby girl from a previous marriage.  Instant Grandma.  Then they had another daughter together.  Son Two is getting married next year and ... well ... we will see.

For now the two granddaughters I do have have stolen my heart in a way I never would have thought.  And I also love that I can plainly see they are not perfect.  They are perfectly human with foibles and lovable aspects and so much to learn.  They delight and exhaust me and sometimes even make me mad.  I'm grateful they live nearby and I get to see them often, having them be part of our lives.  Selfishly, at their young ages I love how much they currently love me and want to be at our house all the time.  I know (having gone through this separation once with our sons) that one day they will not be so enamored of Grandma and Grandpa and might want to be anywhere but here.  But for now, I'm making it a priority to play pretend, do crafts, read books, volunteer in classrooms, host sleepovers, mend clothes, buy treats, go shopping, listen to problems and fears and joys, answer "life" questions, share family stories, act goofy, laugh at silly jokes, learn about kid music, dance together, sing loudly, and applaud their two-person plays put on for an audience of family adults.

So on this Easter Eve, I'm thinking of family....partly of the one I grew up in and realizing again that I am the only one left of my family of origin, my parents and brothers gone on to wherever we go when our bodies are finished.  That's a lonely feeling.  But also of the new "family of origin" I've created.  We are all still here; each in our own age and stage of life, each with our own joys and challenges, all gathering tomorrow for Family Brunch at our house, Easter Egg hunting in our yard, creating memories that may last for awhile before they fade.  Hopefully the feelings of sappy and maudlin love with remain.

At least, that's the view from here...©
Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

WRITER'S BLOCK -- PART 3 -- FAMILY & FRIENDS

It hardly seems fair to "blame" family and friends for my dearth of writing time and energy lately.  They certainly aren't making unrealistic demands on my time.  In fact, far from it.  I'm happy to spend time with the people I love!  And I do.

We do Granny Nanny (and Papa) Care for our two-year-old granddaughter 2 days a week.  Throughout the school year I volunteered a morning a week in our seven-year-old granddaughter's classroom.  About once a week or so we host a family dinner at our house for our sons and their partners and the Grands.  Last month we all went on a Family Vacation together for 3 days at the beach.  We just completed a 3 night/4 day "sleepover" event with the Grands while their mommy and daddy had some away time together without kids.  We'll do it again in September, a week after also providing before and after sport camp care (and chauffeuring) for our seven-year-old granddaughter's first soccer/baseball/football experience.  We celebrate birthdays and holidays together.  We absolutely love that our family lives nears us and are so grateful that they want to be part of our lives and invite us to be part of theirs.

I feel equally blessed by my friendships.  I have spontaneous coffee dates aplenty; a standing breakfast with one friend weekly and with another a regular lunch date.  I travel with friends, celebrate birthdays, holidays, and retirements.  I sometimes host a "Girls Movie Night" at my house and recently a "Garden Yarning" event for knitting and crocheting blankets for refugee centers.  Hub and I stay in touch with old friends who've moved a bit further north with an every other month Happy Hour date and see other friends as well when the occasion arises.  Monthly, for the past 18 months, a group of twelve close friends gathers for a meal and a sharing circle in each other's homes.  Hub and I facilitate the discussion.  We are planning our next group weekend retreat in the fall.  We are so happy and blessed to have this abundance of fabulous people in our lives!

I try to keep space on my calendar for "open time" too.  I used to schedule every day, almost every minute.  I don't do that anymore.  I've learned to say "no" even to things that sound like fun, because I need my quiet, recharging time.

I have always marveled at the likes of J.K. Rowling and others who say they wrote "in their spare time":  after the kids were in bed, sitting in their cars, waiting at the doctor's office.  I just have never been able to really write on demand.  I'm practicing a bit now, though, with the yoga blog.  Since I do get paid for that I sometimes "make" myself come up with a topic and a blog post and it usually works out fine.

Perhaps a bit more discipline for this blog is called for.  I'm using the excuse that time, energy, and attention span due to a busy life are the culprits.  It could be my tendency to procrastinate and wait for vast expanses of time to access the muse and get an idea down in print.

Just writing these three posts about why I don't write has been instructive for me.  I see where my time and energy go and it's not always to a good place. (Hello, wallowing in political despair!)  July is nearly over and August soon upon us.  Maybe I'll make an August Resolution to embrace the Nike tag line:  JUST DO IT!

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  123rf.com

REMEMBRANCE

My mom died nine years ago this morning.

It was a day just like this bright and sunny July 10th.  I had been sitting vigil at the hospital for 12 hours each day since July 5 when she had a massive stroke; I had spent the night that first night, not thinking she would live until morning.  She did, although she never regained consciousness in the next 5 days.

Still, I was there, talking to her, stroking her arms, brushing her hair, holding her hand, laying my head on the pillow next to hers.  I brought in family photos for the windowsill and placed the flowers on her bedside table.  Hub was with me most of the time.  Our oldest son came home from his college town to see her; our younger son, home on summer break, held down the fort at the house, stopping in periodically at the hospital.  I called the rest of the far-flung family and held the phone to her ear as they talked to her; I didn't hear their words but I assume they expressed their love and appreciation for her.  Was she aware of any of that?  I don't know...

On the morning she died, I got off the elevator with my Starbucks mocha and had a big smile on my face as I prepared to greet the nurse coming toward me. I had gotten to know the nursing staff, the custodial staff, the Hospice workers.  All were gentle, caring, respectful, friendly, compassionate people.  This morning, though, the nurse came came to me with a look that could only mean one thing...she enveloped me in her arms and said, "She passed about a half hour ago."  I was not shocked, but I burst into tears.  I was sad and relieved.  Her 5 years of a subtle, then precipitous decline into dementia and physical weakness were over.  She did not want to "linger" and she really didn't.  Her stroke came on suddenly and then she was gone.

The Hospice harpist happened to be on the floor...she had learned of my mom's death just before I arrived.  She waited there for me and we entered mom's room together.  She played while I sat at my mom's bedside, weeping.  Truly she was an Angel in that moment.  I will never forget the sense of awe and peace her music elicited as I spent the final moments I'd ever have in my mother's presence.

I'm not sure why I needed to recount all that here, for others to see and read.  But as with any other post in this blog, my hope is that by sharing my life, I'm touching that of another.  There is reassurance in knowing that the human experience is shared.  We are not alone.

I miss my mom every single day.  Sometimes I feel her close by...like right next to me!  But other times, like today, she is only a memory.  I am honoring her in my heart today, with recollections of her love, her hugs, the firm grip of her hand on mine that last time I sat with her before her stroke, her smile, her laugh, her holding my babies, her amazing talents in undertaking almost any job, from hammers to hair cuts, from baking to painting (walls and landscape canvases!), her pride for her family, her stoic determination, her introverted need for quiet, for her tidy and organized home and the flowers in her garden.

After the arrangements were made for her cremation, there was little else to do until planning for her memorial service began.  We'd decided to hold it a month later, in Illinois, her home before she'd moved to Washington in 1996 to live near me.  So we packed a couple of bags and left town.  I needed a change of scenery, to breathe, to grieve, to heal.  We have a little place in North Idaho.  So we went.  And that is where I write from today.  It's all flooding back, even the trip to Idaho.

Here's what I know:  Unless there is crazy pathology or abuse in family relationships, you will find that in spite of any differences, disagreements, or arguments; in spite of petty squabbles, misunderstandings, or simply 'putting up with' the weirdnesses of various family members....you will miss them when they are gone.  Make peace with those you love every day, forgive the annoyances,  and celebrate the good in each other.  It's lonely to be the last one standing in your original family.  I am that.  And some days, I just want them all back, with all the flaws and flailings we all brought to the mix.  Me included.

At least, that's the view from here...©

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON A RAINY DAY

MY FRIEND IS A GIFTED PIANIST.  She used to play for the church we attended, for local high school theater productions, and has given piano lessons to children and adults for decades.  Me included.  I took lessons at the same time as Son Two when he was very young, just to get him started.  I absolutely love piano music and have a passion for listening and watching others play.  I wanted to learn.  Well.  Just like the current president and his surprise about the complications of delivering health care to the masses, I had no idea playing the piano could be so complicated!  To do it well you actually have to use BOTH hands!  Nine months of struggle was enough for me, so I went back to appreciating the talents of others.  As for my friend, arthritis has slowed her a bit, but one wouldn't know it.  I could listen to her for hours....and am.  Today.  I have two of her CDs and they are exquisite.  Perfect for a gray, rainy afternoon and a pot of hot tea.
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I AM "ON VACATION" THIS WEEK.  I have days spread before me, tabla rosa.  Well, not exactly a blank slate, I guess.  Tomorrow I'm taking my daughter-in-law to a  Seattle "multi-media" production of  "A Woman's World" ("the inspiring stories of women and girls who are transforming our world") to honor her completion of her Master's in Business Degree.  Then Monday I do my foster care program volunteer gig before going to a League of Women Voters forum on a local political issue.  Tuesday I go to Seattle with a friend for lunch and art museum gazing.  Wednesday morning I have my volunteer time in my granddaughter's 1st grade classroom.  But in and around those events and all day Thursday and all day Friday I will be able to tackle long-postponed projects, including perhaps beginning the process of turning this and my other yoga blog into books!   There are companies that do such things and it's been on my "to do" list for a long time.  I want a "hard copy" to keep and maybe share with family members.  If the grid crashes, all these stories of my life will be lost!  (These are the thoughts insomnia is born of).
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YESTERDAY WAS HUB'S BIRTHDAY.  I started dating him 2 months shy of his 18th birthday.  Nearly 50 years ago...unbelievable.  We've grown, changed, lived lifetimes together as we look back and marvel that we are still here, still loving each other, wondering what comes next.  I asked him what 67 feels like (I'll know in December, but I wanted a heads up.)  He said it feels a lot like 66.  He notes that maybe he gets a bit tired more easily in recent years -- like he used to do 8 hours of yard and garden work, but now is ready to quit after 4 (which was probably more reasonable anyway -- our sons have un-fond memories of indentured servitude to this big piece of property and its raking, weeding, and mowing demands.)

His knee has been bothering him -- old football injury come back to haunt him -- and he fears that sooner rather than later a knee replacement may be on the horizon, which could interfere with his fearless and obsessive snowboarding schedule.  Not one for groomed runs, he loves the deep powder of the glades, making fresh tracks through the trees, but which is also more challenging physically.  But in almost every other way he is as fit (maybe more so) than that 18 year old kid I went out with in high school.  He certainly is more sensitive, self-aware, patient, kind, and compassionate than back then, when gender roles and goal-driven tasks and projects -- personal,  educational, and professional -- occupied his time and focus.

The whole family was here to celebrate over dinner last night.  We are so blessed by our sons and who they've grown to be, by the women they've brought into our lives, and the grandchildren we cherish.  So, keep those birthdays coming, I guess.  We are holding the alternative at bay wth much to appreciate still present for us.
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THE STATE OF THE UNION CONTINUES TO DETERIORATE.  There is a "before" November 8th and an "after".  I am still trying to adjust to the reality of what is happening.  It's well-documented, so I won't list the litany of horrors 45* continues to visit upon our great nation.  (I call him 45 for he is the 45th President, but *elected by a minority of the popular vote.) Suffice to say, we are 100% immersed in "the Resistance" but it does take a psychic toll.  Sometimes I long to have my life back from the constant barrage of information and calls to action.

We spent all day in our state capitol on Tuesday attending a policy training and public hearing on a climate change bill that the Republicans will ensure won't see the light of day.  You do what is right anyway and just keep fighting.

We've reconnected with Physicians for Social Responsibility, a fabulous organization, a chapter of which we and others organized in our county. It feels good to be "back", but sad that so many issues now need to be revisited with even more urgency.

There are dozens of grassroots groups forming and it's hard to keep up and know which to ally with and which to ignore.  Many seem redundant and are splintering the finite number of people who can populate them.  I assume over time they will merge.  Forming, storming, and norming, as groups do.

I make my calls to legislators, send my emails, and post cards and watch the Media/Press do what they do so well -- dig, dig, dig.  In spite of 45*'s derisive name calling of them, his maneuvering to only include and speak to those conservative "alt-right" outlets that worship him, the tried and true and reliable news sources are doing their jobs.  It does my heart good.  I've always felt the Press is the bulwark of our democracy.  They are doing it again.  Rachel Maddow and her relentless tracking of the Russia connection, along with investigative reporting from the NY Times, Washington Post, the New Yorker and others may just bring the house down.  Waiting impatiently.
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ENOUGH.  The piano CD has ended and the teapot is empty.  The Outlander soundtrack has begun again on repeat and I need to plan which reruns of the TV show I will watch tonight.  So all ye lads and lassies, I bid you beannachd leat.

At least, that's the view from here...©

GIVING THANKS LIST

I recently was reminded of the importance of a daily gratitude practice.  I used to keep a Gratitude Journal back when it was recommended by Oprah and I always did as Oprah directed.  But as those things do, it fell by the wayside.  It may be time to start again.

I've had a hard time feeling grateful this month.  First of all I've had a cold and lingering cough for over a month that is just about to take me under.  Of course the election result actually did take me under for about two weeks, as I dealt with the raw gut punch of that reality every morning upon awakening.  I emerged from my coma of grief and disbelief almost a week ago to find myself moving toward determination and activism, if not optimism.  Last Saturday it felt like the fog was lifting -- or maybe I'd just stopped taking codeine cough syrup during the day.  Whatever.  I felt I could actually function again without spending part of every day in tears and despair.

So, on this Thanksgiving Day I give thanks:

1.)  I am incredibly grateful for the wise, witty, determined example of those who are walking this path of political outrage and determination with me:  Pantsuit Nation and Pantsuit Nation Washington Chapter are a constant source of online inspiration and support; dozens of columnists have written eloquently about the election -- the whys and what nows -- in ways that increase my understanding and serve as motivation and a reality check; personal friends have come together in community to share and support each other.  I hosted a group of women friends a week ago -- six of us sitting in my living room expressing outrage, fear, and grief, but leaving with a sense of not being alone and that we can stand and rise again; our Tribe of friends gathered at our house last Saturday for a similar time of sharing, then focused on what we are grateful for, which served to shift energy away from despair to hope; my FB family and friends who share and comment and offer counsel and support.  Say what you will about social media, it has its good points.  I'm thankful for this:  http://www.onbeing.org/blog/parker-palmer-start-close-in/9057

2.)  Aside from the cataclysm of the election, this morning I write in this damp dawn, watching the rivulets of rain on the window and am grateful for this earth that sustains us, for the food I'll eat today that came from this earth and for all of those planters, growers, harvesters, transporters, marketers...everyone it took to create a feast at my table.  I'm thankful for the life of the turkey we will eat and hope that 'free range' allowed it at least a little more movement in its brief life.

3.)  I'm thankful for my lovely home, which we use to seek refuge, to welcome friends, to gather in family; for the electricity that illuminates my desk; for the clean clear water that made my coffee; for the warm radiators that are heating my house on this cool, damp morning; for my stove and refrigerator and all the conveniences I have that make my life easier.  I'm thankful for my car that allows me freedom of movement and facilitates adventures and connections near and far.

4.)  I am thankful for my teachers -- those who broaden my intellectual horizons; those who know the ways of the body and how to keep it healthy and strong; those who hold my emotional upsets gently and give me tools for going on and teach me to radically accept myself and have some self-compassion; those who show me my true Self through meditation, yoga, and Kirtan.

5.)  I'm thankful for friends -- for those who know me and love me anyway, who have my back and offer wise counsel, astute challenge, and ready celebration.  I hope I'm as good a friend to them.

6.)  I'm thankful for my extended family -- sisters-in-law, nieces, nephew and their families -- reminding me that I am not alone in the world as the only surviving member of my original family.  Life goes on and family endures.

7.)  I'm thankful for the family I've created; incredibly, indescribably thankful for my family.  Hub my mate for 48 years, since our first date, and 44 years married; what would my life be without him in it?  My sons who will never, ever know the depth of my love for them because it is unfathomable.  For my daughter-in-law who is an example to me every day of quiet grace, determination, and humor.  For Son Two's girlfriend who brings him such happiness and who has joined our family with kindness and good humor.  For my granddaughters who are only the most beautiful, courageous, brightest stars in the galaxy.  I look at them and hold them with such joy, such hopes for their future, such confidence they will make the world a better place as they grow into their power and presence in the world.  They are my legacy and if I can influence them even a tiny bit with my passion for life and good works, I will feel my life justified.

8.)  I am thankful for my health -- physical, emotional, and spiritual -- all of which allows me to sit in this place of grateful humility this morning with the hope that I'll be here throughout another unfolding year, with its joys and challenges, knowing every day will be a day for which to be grateful.

At least, that's the view from here...©

CALL ME SENTIMENTAL

Nobody likes a sentimental old fool.  Nor a young one, either, really. Sentimentality is typically scorned, ridiculed, and to be avoided at all cost.  It's just not cool.  Irony is cool.  I love irony.  Even so....

Imagine my lifelong struggle to hide the significantly wide vein of sentimentality that flows through my heart and spills in a waterfall of tears when my attempts to sandbag it into submission fail.  People squirm.  Or treat me like a pitiful child.  Or laugh.

I can armchair analyze that they are merely uncomfortable acknowledging their own tender hearts and this causes in them the knee-jerk need to ridicule in another what they don't like in themselves.  (That's called acting out of Shadow -- thank you, Carl Jung.)  I frankly think they should do their personal work around this and grow some self-acceptance and compassion, but that's not my call to make.  I just have to deal with how to express my own authentic heart and respond to the reactions I get without judgement or shame.  A tall order.

My first memory of this particular ridicule was in 7th grade.  I adored Mr. Carter, my Language Arts and Social Studies teacher.  He was kind, but firm; encouraging and funny; sensitive and tough.  He  drew me out of a shell of shyness such that I felt more confident just walking into his classroom every day. I worked hard in his class, learned a lot, and developed a life-long love of the subjects he taught -- literature, writing, history, and geography.   I sat in the front row and hung on his every word.  At the end of the year, he stood up at the beginning of one class to announce he wouldn't be back the following school year.  He was leaving our Junior High.  I was shocked.  Tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks falling onto my desk.  Before long, as he continued to talk, I was sobbing.  Then I heard the snickers, the whispers behind me, the chuckles.   Mr. Carter looked over my head and in no uncertain terms reprimanded those who were giggling and making crying noises and motions (fists rubbing eyes) and told them that being sentimental was nothing to be ashamed of; that it befitted a person who has a big heart.  I will always remember his defense of my reaction, but over the years my sentimentality has not been easier to bear.

I cry easily and mostly when I am touched to the core of my heart by a kindness, by gratitude, by appreciation, love, success, accomplishment, a Hallmark card.  Really, I am so easily manipulated by sentimentality that even when I know it's happening I am in full weep mode before I can tell myself they are just trying to get me to buy a new car.  I can be ambushed by movies, YouTube videos, literary passages, personally written kind words on a greeting card, inspirational speeches, Obama winning the Presidency (twice), treasured memories, weddings and funerals (life passages of any kind, really), hymns and carols, old toys, and photo albums....they all get me going.  It's a constant challenge.

I think my family has mostly come to terms with my teariness.  But I still try to hold it way back since I don't know for sure what the response will be in any given situation.

When Son-Two graduated from high school (10 years ago already!), some extended family came to town to share in the festivities.  They also came to see my mother, who had recently moved to an Assisted Living facility with increasing struggles with dementia.  As we all gathered 'round the dining room table, and joined hands to take turns saying what we are thankful for, as is our tradition,  I was overcome with gratitude for our being together -- such a rare occasion.  I found myself weeping as I tried to express my thanks for their making the trip to join in our family celebration and to support Mom in a difficult time.  One family member, uncomfortable with my tears, said -- "Oh, now we all have to cry-baby our way around the table!"  I was stunned, even as I understood the outburst from this person.  But I immediately squelched the tears and the feelings, building a little fort around my heart in that moment to stay safe from further ridicule.  I became the little 7th grader again, which is how I feel every time my heart swells and tears come in public.

Once a week my family gathers for Family Dinner doing the hand-holding thing.   To a person one common thread is gratitude for family gathered together.  I hear them all say it and feel thankful that this is a value shared.  But when I sit and look around at my little family: a husband I've know since he was 17, two grown sons, a daughter-in-law, two granddaughters, I am so filled with love, with gratitude, with so much I want to say to each one about what they mean to me -- all the memories I have of the silly, sublime, and even challenging times we've borne together, that I can barely speak or the floodgates would open wide.  So I just smile and say "I'm so incredibly thankful for all of you and for us being here together."  My voice cracks a little bit, but I contain the depth of feeling that courses through me, not wanting to scare the children or mess up my make up or cause others to look down in embarrassment for me.

I guess that's why occasionally I have to write about it when I'm home alone and can let the tears fall with every word.  My heart holds more love for my family, for my friends, for my many blessings, for my very life, than I can ever express.  But I know.  And I think Mr. Carter knew too.

At least, that's the (blurry) view from here....©