A quote that I've heard before and enjoyed:
Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't.
— Margaret Thatcher, served as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, 1979-1990
Well said!
Friday, April 30, 2010
QOTD - April 30, 2010
Dragon Mood? -- like this
A quote that I've heard before and enjoyed:
Well said!
A quote that I've heard before and enjoyed:
Well said!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Two to the Fifth Birthday
Dragon Mood? -- happily remembering this momentous day!
Two to the fifth, that's how old my baby boy is today. Two squared is four, two cubed is eight, two to the fourth is 16 and two to the fifth is ... THIRTY-TWO!
Happy 32nd Birthday, Josh!
Two to the fifth, that's how old my baby boy is today. Two squared is four, two cubed is eight, two to the fourth is 16 and two to the fifth is ... THIRTY-TWO!
Adding to my book pile
Dragon Mood? -- excited
Taking myself out for a BIG adventure today, I went to the local used bookstore. It's a bookstore right out of a movie, long and narrow, bookshelves to the ceiling, books piled up everywhere. The lone person in the store, a slight, professorial-looking man, greeted me, my book list in hand.
"Do you have your books on a computerized list," I asked.
He replied by tapping the side of his head.
"Wow!" I sighed.
He took my list and turned on his heel. I followed behind. He led me from one book to the next, pulling them off packed shelves with surprising speed.
Here are my NEW used books:
Taking myself out for a BIG adventure today, I went to the local used bookstore. It's a bookstore right out of a movie, long and narrow, bookshelves to the ceiling, books piled up everywhere. The lone person in the store, a slight, professorial-looking man, greeted me, my book list in hand.
He replied by tapping the side of his head.
"Wow!" I sighed.
He took my list and turned on his heel. I followed behind. He led me from one book to the next, pulling them off packed shelves with surprising speed.
Here are my NEW used books:
- The Biography of Alice B. Toklas by Linda Simon
- Genius, The Life and Science of Richard Feynman by James Gleick
- A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson
- Amazing Grace, A Vocabulary of Faith by Kathleen Norris
And now, I have a confession to make. As I write this post, copying Amazon links to the books, I suddenly realize that the Alice B. Toklas biography I bought is not the autobiography by Gertrude Stein. Uh-oh! That's what I thought I was buying. Silly me. Well, I suspect I'll still enjoy reading it.
And before diving into any of them, the one I'm most looking forward to is the Kathleen Norris book.
But first, I will finish The Known World by Leonard P. Jones. I only started it a couple of nights ago and I still have most of the novel to read. It's an interesting book about a black man who owned slaves in Virginia of the 1850s. I am enjoying reading his prose.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Quiet Monday
Dragon Mood? -- reflecting on where I'm at
S and I had a good weekend. Sunday afternoon, she commented that she was dreading the work week. And while I listened, I thought to myself, though unemployed, there are things that make me dread this coming work week too.
My unemployment preoccupies my thoughts almost like someone's death, a shocking, unexpected event that echoes and reverberates still throughout almost everything I do. Even after ONE YEAR, I can hardly not think about it.
This preoccupation didn't happen overnight. I initially thought that if I simply did the responsible and necessary things, a job would come my way. I was prepared for it to be long and hard. I honestly didn't prepare myself to be unemployed for more than a year though.
If and when I'm not preoccupied, then I feel this dull numbness, like I'm only half alive. I hate to admit it, but I'm feeling this way more and more.
My confidence is sagging. Things I wouldn't have a given a second thought to nine months ago, now I find myself questioning, "Can you really do that?" If I see a position that sounds interesting with duties or responsibilities that are outside my experience, I find myself thinking, "Well, that eliminates me," or "They won't consider me now." It angers me that I'm thinking like this and yet I find myself doing it over and over again.
I catch myself wanting to whine, "All I want is a little job working on reports or spreadsheets." I think I'm feeling little, diminished, whittled down. Certainly the words, "worn down" fit. I feel utterly worn down by this unemployment.
Today, rather than being hard on myself, I gave myself permission to be gentle, to feel quiet, to feel worn down. After S left for work, I went back to bed and slept another two hours because I was tired. I sketched and drew for over an hour. I took a long hot shower, washed my hair and enjoyed the simple sensations of getting clean. I checked my email once today, but closed it up rather than checking hourly as I usually do.
This afternoon, I was a bit more productive. I paid some bills, went to an ATM and did some money transfers, bought a few groceries, put together some soup in the crock pot and went through mail. I gathered up recycling and put out the trash at curbside, ready for tomorrow morning.
All in all, a quiet Monday.
S and I had a good weekend. Sunday afternoon, she commented that she was dreading the work week. And while I listened, I thought to myself, though unemployed, there are things that make me dread this coming work week too.
This preoccupation didn't happen overnight. I initially thought that if I simply did the responsible and necessary things, a job would come my way. I was prepared for it to be long and hard. I honestly didn't prepare myself to be unemployed for more than a year though.
If and when I'm not preoccupied, then I feel this dull numbness, like I'm only half alive. I hate to admit it, but I'm feeling this way more and more.
My confidence is sagging. Things I wouldn't have a given a second thought to nine months ago, now I find myself questioning, "Can you really do that?" If I see a position that sounds interesting with duties or responsibilities that are outside my experience, I find myself thinking, "Well, that eliminates me," or "They won't consider me now." It angers me that I'm thinking like this and yet I find myself doing it over and over again.
I catch myself wanting to whine, "All I want is a little job working on reports or spreadsheets." I think I'm feeling little, diminished, whittled down. Certainly the words, "worn down" fit. I feel utterly worn down by this unemployment.
Today, rather than being hard on myself, I gave myself permission to be gentle, to feel quiet, to feel worn down. After S left for work, I went back to bed and slept another two hours because I was tired. I sketched and drew for over an hour. I took a long hot shower, washed my hair and enjoyed the simple sensations of getting clean. I checked my email once today, but closed it up rather than checking hourly as I usually do.
This afternoon, I was a bit more productive. I paid some bills, went to an ATM and did some money transfers, bought a few groceries, put together some soup in the crock pot and went through mail. I gathered up recycling and put out the trash at curbside, ready for tomorrow morning.
All in all, a quiet Monday.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Relating to an infographic
Dragon Mood? -- intrigued
One of the advantages of Twitter is that I do run across a myriad of web resources that I otherwise would never encounter. Below is one example.
This is an infographic created by Jess Bachman, a freelance graphic designer. I'm rather intrigued by infographics, so I decided to incorporate it into my blog posting rather than simply link to it. His Flickr download was so illegible, I have linked to the Mint.com version.
As a person who's been in the job market for over a year, this is SUCH a relevant graphic! I think the points he makes about unemployment are apt and dead on. I see myself in that infographic.
One of the advantages of Twitter is that I do run across a myriad of web resources that I otherwise would never encounter. Below is one example.
As a person who's been in the job market for over a year, this is SUCH a relevant graphic! I think the points he makes about unemployment are apt and dead on. I see myself in that infographic.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Food Revolution
Dragon Mood? -- enthused -- sign up TODAY!
With childhood obesity and diabetes rates skyrocketing, join with Jamie Oliver and thousands of other concerned Americans to fight for our kids' health.
Sign up for Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution
With childhood obesity and diabetes rates skyrocketing, join with Jamie Oliver and thousands of other concerned Americans to fight for our kids' health.
Sign up for Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
QOTD - April 20, 2010
Dragon Mood? -- pondering
Poking around on a website devoted to typography, I found this quote in a beautiful calligraphy format.
Poking around on a website devoted to typography, I found this quote in a beautiful calligraphy format.
"None of us knows what the next change is going to be, what unexpected opportunity is just around the corner, waiting a few months or a few years to change all the tenor of our lives."
— Kathleen Norris
Monday, April 19, 2010
Texas in springtime
Dragon Mood? -- tired by the trip, intoxicated by the beauty
We're just back from a trip to Texas. My dad would love his portion of the farm to look like 'Post Oak Savannah'. Here's one example of how beautiful it can be in the spring.
This photo was taken by Eric Pronske on Flickr.
We're just back from a trip to Texas. My dad would love his portion of the farm to look like 'Post Oak Savannah'. Here's one example of how beautiful it can be in the spring.
This photo was taken by Eric Pronske on Flickr.
Friday, April 09, 2010
Sticky gum
Dragon Mood? -- talking a good game of encouragement to myself
Have you ever stepped on a particularly sticky piece of gum and then simply been unable to get it off your shoe? That's the feeling of discouragement, inertia and almost depression I've been experiencing the past two weeks. I can't get rid of it!
Today I opened the Detroit Free Press website, the "Freep," and a small circle popped up asking if I'd take a survey. It was small enough and polite enough that I actually clicked on it. What to my surprise that this survey was created by a marketing firm that I had a phone interview with just two weeks ago. It was about printers of all things, the ones you have hooked up to your computer or laptop. Coincidence or what?
After completing the two or three minute survey, I realized the universe had just given me the message that I should NOT grieve acquiring that particular position. Though I REALLY want a job, how boring to write questions for marketing surveys on printers?!? Thanks, but no thanks.
Have you ever stepped on a particularly sticky piece of gum and then simply been unable to get it off your shoe? That's the feeling of discouragement, inertia and almost depression I've been experiencing the past two weeks. I can't get rid of it!
After completing the two or three minute survey, I realized the universe had just given me the message that I should NOT grieve acquiring that particular position. Though I REALLY want a job, how boring to write questions for marketing surveys on printers?!? Thanks, but no thanks.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Last hurrah of March
Dragon Mood? -- remembering
Scootching towards mid-morning, today is looking to be such a beautiful day, I put on my gym shoes and hit the sidewalks for a walk around the neighborhood.
The sky is the bluest of blues. Trees are still bare so you can see their every branch and bone. A few clumps of leaves hang on, curled and brown, hardy survivors of winter winds. Hard to see but not difficult to hear are all the birds, singing their little birdy hearts out, celebrating the return of sunshine and warmer temperatures. Hearing their songs reminds me of how wonderful it is to be alive. I remind myself, don't take it for granted, Mary. Be grateful and give thanks.
I focus on feeling as much as I can, opening my sensory windows and letting it all flow in. The air is cool, but not cold. My top and sweatshirt are just the right warmth. I focus on tightening my tummy muscles, my core muscles and aligning my spine. I straighten my posture as I walk. Hmm, that actually seems to help.
This all feels so natural, so familiar. I've walked these blocks so many times before. My ever-present companion, Cisco, is the only missing part of this picture. I imagine her out in front of me, going this way, then that, sniffing, pausing to sniff more intently heaven only knows what. In my arm muscles, I actually feel her leash tugging me here, now there. Oh, it's surreal at how very real it feels.
I look at houses as I pass. Usually tidy ones still look tidy in this nether time between winter and spring. Some look a little worse for wear. A house that was foreclosed last fall has new occupants. Their garage door is open and boxes are lined up right to the edge of the opening. Another house, up the street, on the other side, is for sale. I wonder if this is a voluntary, happy-choice sale or a wolves-at-the-door foreclosure sale? I can't help but wonder.
I'm amazed at how quiet and empty the streets are. Is everyone working but me? Are people immune to the beauty of the day, behind doors closed and locked? I wonder.
Then, across the street, I see a man. He's wearing a winter knit hat, a skull cap I think it's called. I glance down, then back at him. He's still watching me. I raise my hand and wave. He waves back. Now I know what it feels like to be on an island, a castaway, feeling too alone. The strange reassurance of seeing another person, though a stranger. What a curious feeling.
I stop and examine some tiny blue flowers sprung up alongside a slab of concrete. They're so dainty and so intensely blue. Are these snowdrops? I don't know if there is such a thing as intensely blue snowdrops. Nevertheless, they are lovely. Their color is such a marked contrast to the brownness and grayness of all the other foliage.
A woman rounds the block corner, coming towards me, walking two dogs. As she approaches, I say hi. She replies and I ask if I may pet her dogs? They are well-mannered dogs, inquisitive and happy to get a head rub. I tell her about Cisco. She offers her sympathy. I wish her a pleasant day and continue walking. I wish I didn't feel so alone and so vulnerable. I have never been in the habit of chatting up strangers before. Why am I doing it now?
I finish my walk, happy that I have stretched my legs, exercised my core muscles, even to the point of preventing a lower backache, the usual outcome of a long walk. I feel a bit winded, which is good. I congratulate myself.
I return to my laptop, ready to begin working on finding jobs and then it hits me. Today is an anniversary. Yup, it sure is. A year ago, about the same time as my mid-morning walk, I got called into a conference room, told that my job was being eliminated, told that it had nothing to do with my performance, but yes, you are being laid off.
I am thankful. I am thankful for today's March 31st compared to last year's March 31st. I am so thankful to be here and not there.
Scootching towards mid-morning, today is looking to be such a beautiful day, I put on my gym shoes and hit the sidewalks for a walk around the neighborhood.
I focus on feeling as much as I can, opening my sensory windows and letting it all flow in. The air is cool, but not cold. My top and sweatshirt are just the right warmth. I focus on tightening my tummy muscles, my core muscles and aligning my spine. I straighten my posture as I walk. Hmm, that actually seems to help.
This all feels so natural, so familiar. I've walked these blocks so many times before. My ever-present companion, Cisco, is the only missing part of this picture. I imagine her out in front of me, going this way, then that, sniffing, pausing to sniff more intently heaven only knows what. In my arm muscles, I actually feel her leash tugging me here, now there. Oh, it's surreal at how very real it feels.
I look at houses as I pass. Usually tidy ones still look tidy in this nether time between winter and spring. Some look a little worse for wear. A house that was foreclosed last fall has new occupants. Their garage door is open and boxes are lined up right to the edge of the opening. Another house, up the street, on the other side, is for sale. I wonder if this is a voluntary, happy-choice sale or a wolves-at-the-door foreclosure sale? I can't help but wonder.
I'm amazed at how quiet and empty the streets are. Is everyone working but me? Are people immune to the beauty of the day, behind doors closed and locked? I wonder.
Then, across the street, I see a man. He's wearing a winter knit hat, a skull cap I think it's called. I glance down, then back at him. He's still watching me. I raise my hand and wave. He waves back. Now I know what it feels like to be on an island, a castaway, feeling too alone. The strange reassurance of seeing another person, though a stranger. What a curious feeling.
I stop and examine some tiny blue flowers sprung up alongside a slab of concrete. They're so dainty and so intensely blue. Are these snowdrops? I don't know if there is such a thing as intensely blue snowdrops. Nevertheless, they are lovely. Their color is such a marked contrast to the brownness and grayness of all the other foliage.
A woman rounds the block corner, coming towards me, walking two dogs. As she approaches, I say hi. She replies and I ask if I may pet her dogs? They are well-mannered dogs, inquisitive and happy to get a head rub. I tell her about Cisco. She offers her sympathy. I wish her a pleasant day and continue walking. I wish I didn't feel so alone and so vulnerable. I have never been in the habit of chatting up strangers before. Why am I doing it now?
I finish my walk, happy that I have stretched my legs, exercised my core muscles, even to the point of preventing a lower backache, the usual outcome of a long walk. I feel a bit winded, which is good. I congratulate myself.
I return to my laptop, ready to begin working on finding jobs and then it hits me. Today is an anniversary. Yup, it sure is. A year ago, about the same time as my mid-morning walk, I got called into a conference room, told that my job was being eliminated, told that it had nothing to do with my performance, but yes, you are being laid off.
I am thankful. I am thankful for today's March 31st compared to last year's March 31st. I am so thankful to be here and not there.
Friday, March 26, 2010
QOTD - March 25, 2010
Dragon Mood? -- inspired
Quote of My Day: "I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." ~ Mother Teresa
Quote of My Day: "I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." ~ Mother Teresa
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Straddling Divergent Belief Systems
Dragon Mood? -- intrigued
If you call yourself a Christian, then do you immediately reject the idea of reincarnation? Is it a concept that is so foreign to you as to make it unimaginable? Unbelievable?
This article, written by Robert Lanza, M.D., touches on the tantalizing theories and inevitable tension between quantum physics and our ideas of living and dying. Here's an excerpt:
If you call yourself a Christian, then do you immediately reject the idea of reincarnation? Is it a concept that is so foreign to you as to make it unimaginable? Unbelievable?
We think we die and rot into the ground, and thus must squeeze everything in before it's too late. If life -- yours, mine -- is a just a one-time deal, then we're as likely to be screwed as pampered. But experiments suggest this view of the world may be wrong.I see a chasm between belief systems here, and one that I'm straddling uncomfortably, like a cartoon character with one leg on the dock and the other on a boat pulling away. I believe Jesus will accompany me across the river Jordan to "the other side" while at the same time I believe that my essence, my energy will go on after my death. How can I make sense of it all? Rationalize it and balance it and make some cohesive explanation? Oh dear!
The results of quantum physics confirm that observations can't be predicted absolutely. Instead, there's a range of possible observations each with a different probability. One mainstream explanation, the "many-worlds" interpretation, states that there are an infinite number of universes (the "multiverse"). Everything that can possibly happen occurs in some universe. The old mechanical -- "we're just a bunch of atoms" −- view of life loses its grip in these scenarios.
Biocentrism extends this idea, suggesting that life is a flowering and adventure that transcends our ordinary linear way of thinking. Although our individual bodies are destined to self-destruct, the "me'' feeling is just energy operating in the brain. But this energy doesn't go away at death. One of the surest principles of science is that energy never dies; it can neither be created nor destroyed. When we die, we do so not in the random billiard ball matrix but in the inescapable life matrix. Life has a non-linear dimensionality −- it's like a perennial flower that returns to bloom in the multiverse.
A series of landmark experiments show that measurements an observer makes can influence events that have already happened in the past. One experiment (Science 315, 966, 2007) confirmed that flipping a switch could retroactively change a result that had happened before the switch was flipped. Regardless of the choice you, the observer, make, it'll be you who will experience the outcomes −- the universes −- that will result.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Landmark health care legislation
Dragon Mood? -- yes, thrilled!
THRILLED is the word that best describes my feelings!
President Obama's comments on signing landmark health care legislation, March 24, 2010:
THRILLED is the word that best describes my feelings!
"... Our presence here today is remarkable, and improbable. With all the punditry, all of the lobbying, all of the game-playing that passes for governing in Washington, it's been easy at times to doubt our ability to do such a big thing, such a complicated thing; to wonder if there are limits to what we as a people can still achieve. It']s easy to succumb to the sense of cynicism about what's possible in this country. But today, we are affirming that essential truth, a truth every generation is called to rediscover for itself, that we are not a nation that scales back its aspirations. (Applause.) We are not a nation that falls prey to doubt or mistrust. We don't fall prey to fear. (Applause.) We are not a nation that does what's easy. That's not who we are. That's not how we got here.
We are a nation that faces its challenges and accepts its responsibilities. We are a nation that does what is hard, what is necessary, what is right. Here in this country, we shape our own destiny. That is what we do. That is who we are. That is what makes us the United States of America.
And we have now just enshrined -- as soon as I sign this bill -- the core principle that everybody should have some basic security when it comes to their health care. (Applause.)
And it is an extraordinary achievement that has happened because of all of you, and all the advocates all across the country." [excerpted from the New York Times]
Friday, March 05, 2010
Reason, Season, Lifetime
Dragon Mood? -- a bit worn down
Once upon a time ...
if only this were a fairy tale.
There is a lovely, poignant poem entitled, "Reason, Season, Lifetime." I found many people citing this as 'Author Unknown', but according to available web intelligence, it was written by Aleksandra Lachut. [UPDATE: for now, I'll stick with Author Unknown]
Reason, Season, Lifetime
People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you figure out which one it is,
you will know what to do for each person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty;
to provide you with guidance and support;
to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.
Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.
Some people come into your life for a SEASON,
because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it. It is real. But only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons;
things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person,
and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Thank you for being a part of my life,
whether you were a reason, a season or a lifetime.
-- Aleksandra Lachut
As I'm entering my 12th month of unemployment, and S and I look at a variety of less-desirable financial options, I feel philosophical. And this poem speaks to that.
Once upon a time ...
if only this were a fairy tale.
Reason, Season, Lifetime
People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you figure out which one it is,
you will know what to do for each person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty;
to provide you with guidance and support;
to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.
Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.
Some people come into your life for a SEASON,
because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it. It is real. But only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons;
things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person,
and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Thank you for being a part of my life,
whether you were a reason, a season or a lifetime.
-- Aleksandra Lachut
As I'm entering my 12th month of unemployment, and S and I look at a variety of less-desirable financial options, I feel philosophical. And this poem speaks to that.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Presenting my passport
Dragon Mood? -- experiencing an odd sense of deja vu
Well, it's been so-o-oo long since I posted here that I feel like I should present my passport. Geez, it feels strange to be back!
Rather than posting here on calypsoDragon13, I've been working, working, working to find a job. Searching posted job listings, attending workshops, creating an online 'presence,' refining and rewriting my resume countless times, all in the goal of securing steady employment. Well, folks, I'm not there yet, but there may be light at the end of the tunnel.
I have had an interview with a small company that simply feels right to me. And even better, I was called back for a second interview earlier this week. So, no definite outcome on this company, but I am hopeful. I felt welcomed, comfortable, enthused about the job possibilities and hope that I am the best candidate and their choice for this job.
Well, it's been so-o-oo long since I posted here that I feel like I should present my passport. Geez, it feels strange to be back!
I have had an interview with a small company that simply feels right to me. And even better, I was called back for a second interview earlier this week. So, no definite outcome on this company, but I am hopeful. I felt welcomed, comfortable, enthused about the job possibilities and hope that I am the best candidate and their choice for this job.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
A month of absence
Dragon Mood? -- recalling & catching up
Where have I been? I've been away for a month - too long. Let me tell you what I've been doing. July 29th, S's mom, Sally, had spinal surgery. The surgery went well and she came home to our house to convalesce. That was about three weeks ago. Since then, I've been here, at our home in the pine trees, while S has returned to Detroit to work during the week.
Sally and I have managed quite well I think, a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, "in-laws" of a sort, even though the good people of Michigan don't recognize S and my relationship as a marriage. We've talked and eaten meals together, sat out on the deck, listened to music, watched TV and videos, played some cards, worked on a large puzzle together. LOTS OF TOGETHERNESS. LOTS. You get my drift?
I'm ready to resume my normal, usual routine, at the pied-a-terre with S, being together, her working, me hunting for a job. I would presume that Sally would like something that feels a bit more normal for herself as well, but there's this wee problem of her driving. She has not been cleared to drive her car yet by the surgeon. That won't hopefully happen for another eight days. AND ... she has two appointments next week, one for physical therapy and one to meet with the doc ... to get the go-ahead on driving!
So, what to do? Call the doc, get the go-ahead early? Bite the bullet and stay here for another week? Go to Detroit for three days and come back early to drive her to her appointments? All three are possibilities. (heavy sigh) Caregiving can be a big pain in the ass!
Where have I been? I've been away for a month - too long. Let me tell you what I've been doing. July 29th, S's mom, Sally, had spinal surgery. The surgery went well and she came home to our house to convalesce. That was about three weeks ago. Since then, I've been here, at our home in the pine trees, while S has returned to Detroit to work during the week.
Sally and I have managed quite well I think, a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, "in-laws" of a sort, even though the good people of Michigan don't recognize S and my relationship as a marriage. We've talked and eaten meals together, sat out on the deck, listened to music, watched TV and videos, played some cards, worked on a large puzzle together. LOTS OF TOGETHERNESS. LOTS. You get my drift?
I'm ready to resume my normal, usual routine, at the pied-a-terre with S, being together, her working, me hunting for a job. I would presume that Sally would like something that feels a bit more normal for herself as well, but there's this wee problem of her driving. She has not been cleared to drive her car yet by the surgeon. That won't hopefully happen for another eight days. AND ... she has two appointments next week, one for physical therapy and one to meet with the doc ... to get the go-ahead on driving!
So, what to do? Call the doc, get the go-ahead early? Bite the bullet and stay here for another week? Go to Detroit for three days and come back early to drive her to her appointments? All three are possibilities. (heavy sigh) Caregiving can be a big pain in the ass!
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A quiet July Sunday
Dragon Mood? -- reflective
Sunday morning used to be a busy time for me: playing the organ at church or hurrying children along to go to church or warming up my voice with the choir before worship services. Ahh, that all feels rather long ago. Now my Sunday mornings are much, much quieter. And that actually feels good to me. Rather than so much busy-ness, I feel some quiet in my heart. If God decided to talk to me, there might be a snowball's chance in hell of my hearing God!
This has been a rather slow, reflective week for me. Sad in some ways. I am still grieving Cisco's death. I see her coming around the corner or waiting for me at the door. Before, I couldn't get up from my seat without her jumping up as well to shepherd me to my destination. Now, traversing the house, I move unimpeded, a strange unwelcome reminder.
My search for a job this past week was half-hearted, at best. I felt like I was moving in slo-o-ow motion. Thinking back, the only thing that really impacted me was watching Republican senators try to penetrate Sonia Sotomayor's imperturbable calm. More than once, I felt like yelling at the TV screen.
S worked tremendously long hours this past week. She has a not-to-be-missed deadline coming up. I spent one or two evenings on Jan & Tom's porch with them, drinking red wine, visiting, laughing and simply enjoying being in the company of people. They are such good neighbors and friends!
S's mother, Sally, is here with us this weekend. Last night, we had an awesome bonfire in our rolling firepit out on the driveway. Sally and I fed the fire while S did some woodworking in the garage. I gave it up around midnight, but those two intrepid night owls stayed out there until after 3 a.m.! Amazing!
I hope this next week is better for me. More productive. Happier. That's my hope.
Sunday morning used to be a busy time for me: playing the organ at church or hurrying children along to go to church or warming up my voice with the choir before worship services. Ahh, that all feels rather long ago. Now my Sunday mornings are much, much quieter. And that actually feels good to me. Rather than so much busy-ness, I feel some quiet in my heart. If God decided to talk to me, there might be a snowball's chance in hell of my hearing God!
My search for a job this past week was half-hearted, at best. I felt like I was moving in slo-o-ow motion. Thinking back, the only thing that really impacted me was watching Republican senators try to penetrate Sonia Sotomayor's imperturbable calm. More than once, I felt like yelling at the TV screen.
S worked tremendously long hours this past week. She has a not-to-be-missed deadline coming up. I spent one or two evenings on Jan & Tom's porch with them, drinking red wine, visiting, laughing and simply enjoying being in the company of people. They are such good neighbors and friends!
S's mother, Sally, is here with us this weekend. Last night, we had an awesome bonfire in our rolling firepit out on the driveway. Sally and I fed the fire while S did some woodworking in the garage. I gave it up around midnight, but those two intrepid night owls stayed out there until after 3 a.m.! Amazing!
I hope this next week is better for me. More productive. Happier. That's my hope.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Remembering Cisco
Dragon Mood? -- sad and grieving
Friday, we lost a member of our family. Cisco, our 12-year-old dog died here at home after several months of deteriorating health.
Cisco knew long before we did. She quit thriving. Her appetite took a nose-dive and she began to lose weight. I took her to the vet a couple of times. We gave her several rounds of antibiotics. The vet instructed us to jazz up her food. Her weight loss was too much, too fast. I started feeding her pricey human food simply to entice her to eat. All the while, Cisco waited, waiting for S and I to catch on to what was going on.
She seemed to know that it was her time, that she was dying and that it was time to follow her instincts. She quit eating, sleeping more, lying still for hours at a time. Her hind quarters got very wobbly. She became weak. Offered chicken or beef, she would turn her nose away.
All last week we were on something of a death watch. When a creature simply stops eating, it's only a matter of time. We decided that as long as she appeared to not be in pain, we would keep her at home, trying to allow her to die in familiar surroundings with her people there beside her.
Last Friday morning, she seemed weak but still like herself. I watched her or checked on her regularly. When she lost control of her bowels, I moved her outside. I laid her on a rag rug in the cool shade and sat beside her, stroking her body, talking to her. I told her that she was a good dog. I told her that I loved all the walks we had taken. I told her that it was okay. I talked to her like a baby needing comfort. I didn't want her to be afraid. Her body seemed too still; only her eyes and twitching eyebrows still seemed like her.
Her breathing grew quieter. After about 30 minutes, she suddenly stiffened her legs, straightened her spine, arched her tail and her eyes went vacant. She was gone.
I cried. After our neighbor came over to help me move her body, I bawled like a baby. I knew that this was coming, we wanted her to have as calm and peaceful a death as possible, but it still hit me hard. Our good ol' girl was gone.
S and I drove her body to the vet's office. We arranged for her to be cremated. We drove home, ate a little something and then slept. Everything felt too quiet, things didn't feel right, someone was missing.
How we are missing Cisco is surprising us. It catches each of us in unexpected, sad-all-over-again ways. Our feelings reverberate like being inside of some bell ringing loudly with grief. It catches me by surprise every time. Talking about her makes me want to cry all over again. I try to tell myself, "... but she's just a dog."
No, she was our dog, a part of our family and we're really missing her.
Friday, we lost a member of our family. Cisco, our 12-year-old dog died here at home after several months of deteriorating health.
Cisco knew long before we did. She quit thriving. Her appetite took a nose-dive and she began to lose weight. I took her to the vet a couple of times. We gave her several rounds of antibiotics. The vet instructed us to jazz up her food. Her weight loss was too much, too fast. I started feeding her pricey human food simply to entice her to eat. All the while, Cisco waited, waiting for S and I to catch on to what was going on.
She seemed to know that it was her time, that she was dying and that it was time to follow her instincts. She quit eating, sleeping more, lying still for hours at a time. Her hind quarters got very wobbly. She became weak. Offered chicken or beef, she would turn her nose away.
All last week we were on something of a death watch. When a creature simply stops eating, it's only a matter of time. We decided that as long as she appeared to not be in pain, we would keep her at home, trying to allow her to die in familiar surroundings with her people there beside her.
Last Friday morning, she seemed weak but still like herself. I watched her or checked on her regularly. When she lost control of her bowels, I moved her outside. I laid her on a rag rug in the cool shade and sat beside her, stroking her body, talking to her. I told her that she was a good dog. I told her that I loved all the walks we had taken. I told her that it was okay. I talked to her like a baby needing comfort. I didn't want her to be afraid. Her body seemed too still; only her eyes and twitching eyebrows still seemed like her.
Her breathing grew quieter. After about 30 minutes, she suddenly stiffened her legs, straightened her spine, arched her tail and her eyes went vacant. She was gone.
I cried. After our neighbor came over to help me move her body, I bawled like a baby. I knew that this was coming, we wanted her to have as calm and peaceful a death as possible, but it still hit me hard. Our good ol' girl was gone.
S and I drove her body to the vet's office. We arranged for her to be cremated. We drove home, ate a little something and then slept. Everything felt too quiet, things didn't feel right, someone was missing.
How we are missing Cisco is surprising us. It catches each of us in unexpected, sad-all-over-again ways. Our feelings reverberate like being inside of some bell ringing loudly with grief. It catches me by surprise every time. Talking about her makes me want to cry all over again. I try to tell myself, "... but she's just a dog."
No, she was our dog, a part of our family and we're really missing her.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Dragon Mood? -- excited, full of anticipation
Happy Wednesday, Happy Wendishday as we say in the family, and ... if you're working ... Happy HUMP day! I'll settle for the first two salutations.
For me, this is a few days of preparation and waiting. We will travel to Madison, Wisconsin, tomorrow night to join Caroline and Ron and friends to build the deck you've been seeing here in earlier posts. Caroline has spent over $1000 in pressure-treated wood, along with 32 bags of ready-mix cement to secure all the posts.
The deck will be L-shaped, the main portion measuring 12' x 20' with a 6' x 10' foot. It will be angled about 15 degrees off of horizontal and stand about 10 feet from the back stoop of her house.
S and I are excited. Well, I know that I'm excited. I think S is kind of exhausted with work, trying to pace herself through the week. Work is automotive-related and as a result, terrifically stressful. She walks in the door and I can see the stress all over her face. It is troubling to me to see her that way. I'm hoping that working with her tools, being outdoors, working with wood will help evaporate some of the stress from her body.
What will I be doing? Anything and everything that I can. Holding the dumb end of a tape, holding framing lumber while it's clamped, schlepping wood from one place to another and my specialty: I mark all the fine cuts for S to make. It takes a good eye and ability to visualize things that are yet-to-be. I imagine that I also may be involved with food prep, meal cleanup and myriad other little details.
The other event that I haven't mentioned is that my son, Josh, hopefully will be joining us for at least a small portion of the weekend ... and bringing a guest, a young lady. I know that her name is Leah, she's an MSU alum, a packaging engineer in the Milwaukee area and someone that I am looking forward to meeting. And I'm looking forward to spending a little time with Josh. He is a very successful actuary who works hard and spends long hours doing his job. He is in the busiest time of his work year, so we'll see him for only a portion of the weekend.
Can you tell I'm excited?
Happy Wednesday, Happy Wendishday as we say in the family, and ... if you're working ... Happy HUMP day! I'll settle for the first two salutations.
The deck will be L-shaped, the main portion measuring 12' x 20' with a 6' x 10' foot. It will be angled about 15 degrees off of horizontal and stand about 10 feet from the back stoop of her house.
S and I are excited. Well, I know that I'm excited. I think S is kind of exhausted with work, trying to pace herself through the week. Work is automotive-related and as a result, terrifically stressful. She walks in the door and I can see the stress all over her face. It is troubling to me to see her that way. I'm hoping that working with her tools, being outdoors, working with wood will help evaporate some of the stress from her body.
What will I be doing? Anything and everything that I can. Holding the dumb end of a tape, holding framing lumber while it's clamped, schlepping wood from one place to another and my specialty: I mark all the fine cuts for S to make. It takes a good eye and ability to visualize things that are yet-to-be. I imagine that I also may be involved with food prep, meal cleanup and myriad other little details.
The other event that I haven't mentioned is that my son, Josh, hopefully will be joining us for at least a small portion of the weekend ... and bringing a guest, a young lady. I know that her name is Leah, she's an MSU alum, a packaging engineer in the Milwaukee area and someone that I am looking forward to meeting. And I'm looking forward to spending a little time with Josh. He is a very successful actuary who works hard and spends long hours doing his job. He is in the busiest time of his work year, so we'll see him for only a portion of the weekend.
Can you tell I'm excited?
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