Advice

Nurses have stories. They have seen about everything that can be done to a body, voluntarily and involuntarily. Part of my job frequently has me reading Emergency Department (ED), it's no longer ER,  notes. Many of the things I read are scary or sad...a few are nothing short of miracles. But every now and then I come across a tale so far fetched...

These often involve, um, foreign objects. That, would be something that doesn't belong in the human body. And in this particular instance, we'll limit the body to primarily one orifice...give me a break, I'm trying to keep this PG. As far as I've been able to tell, nobody ever walks in to the ED and tells the truth about how this mishap occurred. I often wonder how much time is spent concocting these stories (We also get them for how someone accidentally ingested drugs. And just so you know, nobody believes you passed out and just happened to breathe in the cocaine.)  Stories run the gamut from muggings that involved the placement of mysterious foreign object to all sorts of accidents...hanging curtains naked? Bet the neighbors adore you. Slipped. Fell. Say you can see it happening? The lube on the, um, object gives you away every time.

So here's my advice:

1. Never place an object inside a body cavity that was not specifically designed for the purpose. Any body cavity, including your nose and ears.

2. If you ignore #1, go to the ED, don't waste time making up a plausible ::cough:: story and take your lumps, fess up. You may be a little embarrassed, you were warned, but nobody is ever going to believe that story you're concocting.

Happy? Holidays

I often note that people, including myself at times, have a tendency to backlash when things become too politically correct. I mean sometimes it is just freaking ridicules. I have started taking note of those that grumble over the greeting, "Happy Holidays" a phrase meant to be all inclusive of the winter celebrations, like Season's Greetings. But it seems a good number of people feel their toes are being stepped on. They want to wish you a Merry Christmas...damn it. Did I mention that some of those grumblings include not very Christian like ideas...or words?

Let me explain how I see this...

After all...MY blog!

Wishing a close friend or relative Merry Christmas is just dandy. I assume you know these people well enough to know that they do, indeed, celebrate Christmas. Now, those other, not so well known folks you encounter may not celebrate Christmas. Now come down off your high horse, they are not all heathens...they just have different beliefs than what happens to be a majority in this country. Remember that tiny idea this country was founded on...freedom, including religion? Wishing a Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Wiccan or any number of religions, a Merry Christmas is like wishing everybody else Happy Birthday on YOUR birthday. They aren't celebrating what you are, when you celebrate. We no longer live in small towns or isolated hamlets. It's a big world out there. Embrace differences, learn about people. It does not mean that you have to give up your beliefs...just be aware that the entire world isn't like you.

Personally, you may wish me a Happy Holiday, Merry Christmas, Joyous Yule, Happy New Year, Happy Kwanzaa or Happy Hanukkah, as long as you wish me well, have good intentions and want to celebrate a joyous occasion.

Will there be gifts?

Ageism

I am 48...soon to be 49. 26 days. I have no issue with my age, but it seems others do. It seems there are things I am supposed to be too old for. Like playing dress up. Why is it that I am supposed to outgrow things I love? Somethings you outgrow, their usefulness in your life ceases. Playing with dolls would be a good example for me. Some people play with dolls well into their adulthood...they call them action figures. I just lost interest. I loved coloring books and crayons, sharing them with my sons when they were young. I learned to color inside the lines but never followed the rules...pink skies and purple grass. Small kids take issue when you don't follow the rules. As they grew older and the coloring books and crayons vanished, I "matured" into watercolors and acrylics. Unfortunately, I discovered I didn't do so well without someone else to draw the lines. Paint by numbers didn't capture my heart.

I still find great fun in dressing up, whether for a LARP or a goth club. Both excite my creativity. It is becoming that I am in the minority, age wise, but by no means the only over forty...or even forty-five. I guess it is much like playing with dolls, you give it up when it no longer holds your attention. No longer serves a purpose.

Now days, people seems to be amazed (the nicer of the words I can think of) by how I live my life. I should be settling down...after all, I have a grandson. I suspect I am supposed to be babysitting and baking cookies. Neither of these things have ever been high on my to-do list...well, maybe occasionally baking cookies.

I will continue to pursue those activities that engage my mind and speak to my heart...despite my age. I will play dress up with strange clothes and stranger make-up. I will dance to industrial music. I will run through the woods. I will howl at the moon...when I can find it. And if it makes you uncomfortable...go play with your action figures.

Guilt

Guilt is not one of my better emotions. I don't mean guilt, because I did something wrong, I mean guilt as in someone trying to manipulate me. I have had an over abundance of guilt, it was standard operating procedure for my Mom. She never seemed to figure out that it did not work on me...and often had negative consequences.

Tonight, a cousin...that I have had little contact with, by my choice, decided to post on my Facebook wall something to the effect of, It wouldn't kill you to call me or your Aunt (her Mom and my mother's sister), we are family you know. I deleted her from my friends and blocked her account.

Drastic? Perhaps.

Regrets? None.

I had accepted her friend request reluctantly...we have never been friends. She'll never know how lucky she was. I acted quickly and decisively...I could have posted back instead. Words are something I am very, very good at. I could have told her what I thought of her suggestion. I took the higher road. I grew up in that toxic environment. I am an adult now and will pick who I share my life with.

I did not book passage on your guilt trip. I'll just stand here and watch you sail away...to hell.

Nothing lost.

Cancun...in the future

We, five of us, booked a trip to Cancun last night. All inclusive, 4 stars, on the beach...in 4 months. I love anticipation. It is always nice to have something to look forward to...especially after the holiday rush fades and winter sets in. Sunshine, turquoise sea, white sand...icy cold drinks.

Riu Palace Las Americas

Can I start packing?

Recreating life

I have found my thoughts and opinions on many subjects have changed over the years...experience, age, wisdom? I don't know. One of those things I become painfully aware of this time of year. Like a lot of grown ups, and in my case I use the term loosely, I hate the holidays. Or more accurately, I guess I should say, I was beginning to hate the holidays. Life seems to have that effect. We lose loved ones, traditions fade, and the holidays are never the same. But thanks to some wonderful friends, that feeling is fading somewhat. We have started celebrating non-biological family holidays (why do you not change the y to i and add es on holidays?). The family you chose. We started with Christmas, and expanded to Thanksgiving this year. There are no petty squabbles, one-up-manship, sibling rivalries (though siblings are involved) none of the crap frequently encountered at family holidays. Nine of us sat around the dinner table last night, we enjoyed wonderful food and good conversation and easy companionship. I laughed until it hurt, literally. What a wonderful feeling. I am so glad they like my company and chose me as family. Next up Christmas. In the works...family vacation next Spring.

That place

I find myself in that place I try so hard to avoid. I don't know how I got here, or why. It is familiar. I have been here before. Familiarity does not make it easier. Actually, it makes it more frightening. I know. I have a knowledge of events to come...the possibilities. The darkness. I am trying to dig my nails in, to stop slipping downward. Life isn't cooperating with the plan. So tired. Makes it hard to fight. But giving in is not my style, not an option. I do not go quietly. There is no good night. I have to stay close to the light. It's too hard when the light dims. Can't find yourself there.

My, what big ears you have

In celebration of Halloween, I wore elf ears to work today. Now, I have a group of friends that would not think twice about seeing elf ears...but those are NOT the people I work with. I suspect the only time these people had ever seen anything similar was on TV or the movies.

The reactions were confusing at first. People seemed uncomfortable...almost embarrassed. Then one girl started laughing as she got a better look. She fessed up to wondering why she had never noticed that my ears were so big. This seemed to be the theme for the day. I got my money's worth.

Mish mash...odd thoughts

Welcome Fall...even though the temperature gauge isn't yet cooperating with my idea of brisk Autumn days. I have started noticing the trees changing, just a hint. I dread Winter, but I do love Fall. It is a weird fashion time of year. The temperature changes from morning to day, so that you're never sure what to wear. I notice some women, like myself, hold onto their Summer clothes as long as possible, while other women seem eager to pull out the boots and sweaters. I often notice how overdressed they appear when noon time temps hit 80.

My oldest son came home yesterday bearing gifts. His work had thrown him an Uncle Chris baby shower in honor of his younger brother's son. What a surprise. Surprise number 2 came when the youngest sent a thank you note back. I guess they really have grown up.

I'm still missing some things...but I gained a toothbrush. I have recently found there are several items that seem to have vanished into thin air. (I wonder where that comes from?) Nothing of value. Nothing anybody would particularly want...except, of course, me. I have looked high and low. Then the other day I get into the trunk of my car...and find a toothbrush. Brand new. Still in the package. But I had not recently bought a toothbrush, nor was it the type I would have selected...as I am very picky about my toothbrush. So now, not only does it appear I have a poltergeist of my very own...he's playing swap. I wonder who found my red and black arm sleeves.

I hope it was a burly man.

I am so proud

It did not occur to me until today how proud I am of my son. His son was born this past weekend. He is not married, he isn't even dating the Mom...they tried, it just wasn't meant to be. But he stepped up. He never denied the baby, he didn't walk away. He has been an active participant in her pregnancy. Going to doctor visits and birthing classes. He stood by her side through 10 hours of labor. He held her hand through contractions, he got her ice...he talked to her belly. He cut the cord. He whispered, "I love you" to his son. He stayed at the hospital with them for 4 days while they ran tests to make sure the baby was okay. Last night he stood in my living room talking about sterilizing bottles, umbilical and circumcision care and I wondered, who are you? This is not my reckless son, instead I saw a very proud Dad...a man. I hope this is the beginning of wonderful things for him.

Life changes

I am not always the biggest fan of change. I especially don't like it when I have no control over it. Yesterday, my first grandchild was born. I am unsure how I feel about this...not that I can change any of it. 

This is scary stuff. 

Beware an annoyed, sleep deprived, Momma

I was awoke this morning, at 4AM, by my son raiding the kitchen cabinets. I'd already had a rough night getting to sleep, and now I had to do it all over again...just to get up in a hour and a half.

As I related this story to a co-worker, I pointed out that he was over 18, so beating him with a stick technically would not be child abuse. She suggested domestic violence. Nope, I replied, he doesn't live with me. She laughs. Well, you can't just beat your son, she quips. There would be some law...

So I explain, I'm woke in the middle of the night by someone rummaging through my home. I'm in a medication induced haze, therefore confused. No court in the country would convict me for protecting myself, home and family.

Her reply...your son should be scared.

Snooze

I have never had an issue with getting up in the morning. Now, don’t misunderstand, I grumble and complain. But when the alarm clock goes off, I’m up and running…well at least stumbling. I have never, ever, used a snooze button. The whole concept escapes me. I have heard people say they set their alarm clock earlier, so that they can hit snooze. The theory, it seems, is a much gentler transition from sleep. I hate, HATE, an alarm clock, so I don’t want to hear it more than once. And how much more sleep are you getting?

The reason for this observation, is something, a joke of sorts, I guess, that I read. It was a list of “fixes” to everyday problems. One of which was...

Place a mousetrap on top of your alarm clock, and you’ll never have to worry about falling back to sleep after hitting the snooze button.

I found that immensely amusing for some strange reason.

Almost made it

I kept the tears at bay yesterday. I did really well. Until I went to bed. My mind wandered in and out and it suddenly dawned on me how really alone I am. There was nobody but me to mourn my Dad. Nobody that remembered. Nobody that cared. Nobody but me.

Some days just smack you in the face

I wrote the date this morning.

9/14/10

It immediately dawned on me...tomorrow will be the 4 year anniversary of my father's death. I went to the bathroom and gathered myself. Not only do I get the anniversary...I get the day before too.

I came home this afternoon and turned on the news. They were talking about the record breaking wind storm Louisville suffered two years ago. Jeez, thanks. That storm prevented us from celebrating my mother's last Christmas. Yes, in September. She knew she was never going to make it until December. She wanted one last Christmas. A tree was decorated, gifts were bought, a meal was planned. The storm tore through Louisville knocking down trees and electricity...it was weeks before the debris was cleared. Mom never felt good enough to reschedule her Christmas. She died 3 weeks later.

Yep, today has sucked.

Insight

I was driving down the road one recent morning when I noticed a guy walking down the sidewalk wearing a hoodie. I noticed this guy for several reasons, the hoodie had a design that I liked and it was bit too warm to be wearing it. On closer viewing, I noticed the guy seemed to be having a rather animated conversation with himself. As I drove past, I remarked, out loud, that I thought it was a little early in the season for a hoodie and weird to be talking to yourself as you walk down the sidewalk.

Of course, I was alone in my car...but it's okay to talk to yourself in the car. Besides I wasn't wearing a hoodie in 80+ degree weather.

Theme

I was told that a blog should have a theme. By having a theme...cooking, sewing, gardening, movies, books, aliens from the future, past or Alpha Centauri, people know if they want to read it. Common interests kind of crap.

First thought: How limiting. Second thought: I don't know enough about one thing to write about it day in and day out. Final conclusion: My blog has a theme...me. It's about whatever I want it to be about. It's about my thought, my feelings, my flights of fancy. So there...problem solved, I have a theme. One I know intimately. Is it interesting enough for people to follow...I do. So there, me and myself have something in common.

Knowing

When was the last time you knew exactly what you were doing?

I remember a time when I assured someone that I knew exactly what I was doing. In hindsight, I realize how wrong I was.

Of course a lot of things change in hindsight. It is easy to look back and second guess those moments in life. You only knew, what you knew, at that precise moment. And lots of things get in the way. But is it so terribly hard to know what you are doing? How about what you want? Or where you are going? Not in the day to day sense, but in the big picture kind of way. Do most of us just aimlessly wander about, randomly bumping into each other? Do your goals go beyond getting through this day, week, month?

Ever wonder...

about the erectile dysfunction (ED) commercial when they state, if you have an erection that lasts longer than four hours to seek immediate medical attention.


I did. So I asked a doctor I knew. He didn't know. So I asked a few more, all confused...about the treatment or by my curiosity. Knowing anatomy as well as I do (Points to self---nurse), I couldn't imagine any treatment that was going to be less than miserable. If for no other reason than sheer embarrassment.


This medical condition is called priapism. It occurs outside of the use of ED medications and from what I have heard is very painful.


According to my.clevelandclinic.org the treatment options, once you find a doctor that knows what to do, include...

• Ice packs: Ice applied to the penis and perineum may reduce swelling.
• Surgical ligation: Used in cases where an artery has been ruptured, the doctor will ligate (tie off) the artery that is causing the priapism in order to restore normal blood flow.
• Intracavernous injection: Used for low-flow priapism, during this treatment drugs known as alpha-agonists are injected into the penis that cause the veins to narrow reducing blood flow to the penis causing the swelling to subside.
• Surgical shunt: Also used for low-flow priapism, a shunt is a passageway that is surgically inserted into the penis to divert the blood flow and allow circulation to return to normal.
• Aspiration: After numbing the penis, doctors will insert a needle and drain blood from the penis to reduce pressure and swelling.

That just makes me cringe. This is what happens when curious minds inquire. And aren't you glad I shared?

I will warn you, just in case you happen to be reading this cross-eyed because of inflammation in your nether region and you think you'll just grab an ice pack and save yourself embarrassment and further pain...this is a medical emergency and your future "potential" is at risk. The sooner you are treated, the better your odds of um...returning to your previous activity.

Now go wash your hands.

Creepy crawlies

Everything you know is potentially wrong. I have made that statement before…and I’ll probably make it again. I am amazed by how much information I know, that is incorrect. A lot of this came from our Mothers, who presumably got it from their Mothers…who just didn’t know any better. Catch your death of a cold? Maybe. Because you went out barefooted or with your hair wet? Absolutely not! Colds are caused by viruses…not damp hair, or cold drafts.

My most recent adventure into the land of things I knew all wrong was after a recent trip to Otter Creek and the subsequent misery of chiggers. After several days of absolutely itchy misery, and refusal to paint my body with clear nail polish…as my Mother’s remedy (and husband’s) would suggest, I went to the good old trusty world wide web looking for remedy and relief. This is when I discover that all I knew about chiggers was absolutely, positively wrong…w-r-o-n-g! And somewhat to my relief, as I never found the idea of suffocating bugs while embedded in my skin as a particularly pleasant idea. This resulting in dead bugs decaying just under my epidermis…not good, not pretty, not particularly hygienic. I am not going to go into all the disgusting details, but chiggers do not burrow under the skin, they bite and feed. Nasty as that is, I still find it preferable to digging, burrowing and dying bugs on my body. As a side note, if you interrupt feeding, they die, as they have this one and only opportunity…so I feel some satisfaction in that, as I scratch in misery.

Burn Bibles?

I have recently seen snippets about a Florida preacher planning to burn the Koran on September 11th, in some manner of commemoration/protest. I say snippets, as I seldom ever turn the TV on and this idea just seems too stupid to me to investigate further. Generally speaking, I am against the destruction, in any manner, of books. Though I have read a few that I wondered how they ever made it to bookshelves…but I am sure they found an audience somewhere. Books are a valuable commodity to me, even if I don’t like them or disagree with their philosophy. The Bible holds no special meaning for me, it is a book, full of wondrous stories of miracles. I keep my family Bible out of sentiment. I have never had the opportunity to read the Koran, and doubt I would understand it. But I respect people’s emotional attachment to them both…and the freedom this country was based on to allow everyone the right to their beliefs. I can’t help but wonder how the preacher feels about the Bible being burned. Essentially that is what he is condoning, the destruction of a religious manuscript. Different religion, same artifact. I also realize this country allows him the freedom to burn a book of his choosing. I hope the Muslim community will not lump us all together. Unfortunately, this type of behavior, will most affect those Muslims most like this Florida preacher…extremist, narrow minded and bigoted. If there is a God, of any race, shape, color or creed, may he protect us from these idiots.

Mortality

Living forever is not an option.

Living good...is.

My Late Summer Vacation

Zombies

I attended the Louisville Zombie Attack for the second year last night. I believe this was the 6th one. I am told this started out as some local guy's birthday party with about 25 people. Last night, I'm guessing, there were several thousand...and an attempt at a world record. This always occurs in Louisville on August 29 (8/29) at 8:29PM. Last year, the zombies shambled along the sidewalk, primarily, on one side of the street. This year the zombies flowed out onto Bardstown Road from both sides of Eastern Parkway. Many spectators come to see the show. It's hot, as is typical for August. Add in make-up, prosthetics, wigs, costuming and a couple thousand people in the width of a road and it get sweltering. It's noisy. As you might expect. Then add in a chainsaw...or three. It's also a lot of fun...something quirky with your friends. Afterwards, we wandered down Bardstown Road to one of the coffee houses, then next door for dinner...yes there were a few odd stares, but not as many as you'd expect. Most of the locals know. We often wonder about that odd visitor, or uninformed local, that stumbles into the Highlands by some weird turn of fate and comes face to face with the zombie horde.

Creativity

Why is it that my mind is most creative somewhere between this world and sleep? I am not really awake, but not dreaming. I am floating there, relaxed, with some conscious ability to direct my thinking, and I can compose my thoughts into amazing order. Everything seems so clear and precise. The words perfect. But when I wake in the morning that clarity dissipate like gold dust in running water. If I immediately break sleep's spell, I can write the thoughts down and preserve them...but sleep is such a desired, and not so easily obtainable, commodity for me.

Belief

I long ago decided that I did not believe in religion. Religion not being the same as God. Religion is man-made, and therefore fallible. Religion is often twisted and turned to suit the agenda of a group or individual...if it were not so, wouldn't there only be ONE religion for each deity?

There was a time that I had a very strong faith. I felt His presence in my life. I even went in search of a religion that would give me a stronger foundation in my beliefs. I very much admire people that make choices about their beliefs...and life. I was unsuccessful. I could find more things I disagreed with, than what felt right.

I have for some time now identified myself as agnostic...as I tend not to be a never/always kind of person. I can't say that there is no God, but He is not a part of my life. I envy people that find such joy, but I  find no comfort there. I have come to a point in my life now, where I ask myself serious questions. Questions many people, it seems, would never dare contemplate...especially out loud. Why? Fear. Fear of retribution from a wrathful God. Fear of condemnation by family and friends...or religious zealots. There are few people more dangerous than those that claim a close personal relationship with their God. I do not want to embrace something out of fear. I would rather embrace a loving God. One that realizes that I am human and imperfect and would forgive me my questions and doubts as long as I have tried to live a good life. Personally, questioning is a sign of intelligence. I would think MY God would appreciate that in his children.

How I feel

On a very rare occasion I share how I feel, really feel, deep down...those painful thoughts that usually stay buried deep beneath all the bluster and humor. It isn't easy for me to do. I don't know why. It may take a crack code breaker to get the meaning, but it's there, all laid out bare for the world to see.

And the world remains silent.

Getting the right answer

I have, over the years, contemplated the "perfect job". I have considered working hours, weekends, holidays and compensation. I have debated physical environment and location. And let's not forget personal satisfaction. After all this thought and debate it occurred to me today that I have had it wrong all along. The perfect job is ::drum roll:: one where I get paid, without actually doing anything.

Life

It seems I came close to losing my son today...again. And never even knew it. Got a call this afternoon that he'd been in a wreck and was taken to the hospital. We've been down this road a few times. When he called me, he was being his normal self complaining about how long it was taking for anybody to do anything. Another dry, dusty, well traveled road. He couldn't answer any of my questions...how, where, who. When I told him to calm down, he hung up on me. Well traveled road. I didn't go to the hospital. I guess I should have, but previous experience did not encourage me to do so. He eventually walked out, in paper scrubs. Then walked until he found a phone and called me. I picked him up near his work. He then tells me that he thinks his car rolled, then wrapped around a phone pole after being broadsided. He was ejected through the driver's window. He still has no idea where this occurred. I guess I should be glad that he could get up and walk out of the hospital...no matter how much I want to ring his neck for doing it.

Does experience count?

Having been married over 30 years, I never did internet dating. I have, however, poked around in a few with single friends. Some of the questions are so weird...and useless. I guess they are trying to poke into some deep psychological space, I don't know. It seems there could be more appropriate questions.

I remember seeing my husband eating ketchup on his fried chicken shortly after we got married. I was shocked! It didn't gross me out...as ketchup on scrambled eggs does, but we had dated for two years. How did I not know this? I often used this as an example with friends that proclaimed they knew everything about their mate. After 30 years, we each still occasionally surprise the other.

Actually what set my mind to this subject, was my tossing and turning, like a fish on dry land, trying to get comfortable in bed. I pull on the comforter, turning this way and that, covering and exposing body surfaces. I can NOT stand to have the foot of my bed tucked in...can not, can not, can not. When I stay at a hotel, the first thing I do is pull the sheets free. Imagine if I married a man that required a neat, pristine, made bed. We would drive each other insane. But I would never have thought to ask him. 

We also, in the beginning, disagreed about where the bed goes in the room and which side we each slept on. Changing sides is easy for some, not so much for others.

There are so many issues when you decide to share your space with someone else. Who knows maybe those psychological questions are valid. I've been married for 30 years, what do I know?

Challenges

I often explain it away as, I am an only child. That might be part of it...a small minuscule part. I am also hard headed, having not fallen far from the tree that was my mother. I think my desire to win battles started with her. It was be strong or be ground to dust under her heel as she trod over you. Whatever the reason, I will not let go of a fight once I have sunk in my teeth, especially if I feel wronged.

Recently, I have had three challenges that fall into this category. Incidents that left me feeling like I was being taken advantage of, treated like an idiot, blatantly ignored and or lied to. This, as usual, was not setting well. Today, I think the last of the three was settled. Promises were made, just waiting for the action. Promises made by the owner of a company after I logically disputed my way through his underlings. They could not argue or belittle me into believing what they wanted...I just would not see it their way. Going to the top seems to be the way to success. This can sometimes be very difficult, as the top is often shielded by layers upon layers of people that interfere with attempts to contact them. After all, the President of a company can't be bothered by a peon like me. Though sometimes, with enough persistence, you get lucky. I did once, after many phone calls, emails and the such, something of mine ended up on what I would guess was a pretty big desk in Detroit. After that, things happened fast. To this day, I get a reaction every time they look up my name at a Ford dealer.

Other times, it's not so hard to get to the top. I recently dropped the Mayor a nice email asking why I had a gigantic whole in front of my house that I couldn't get the powers that be to address. First, this was not a pothole. When I say gigantic, it eventually took two dump trucks worth of gravel to fill in. It had been slowly expanding over the course of ten, or so, months. My pleas had gotten crude, temporary, fixes...they threw plywood over it and put up barriers. One polite email to the Mayors office and, wham bam, I got hardhat crews bending over backwards to get that hole filled in. I sent a nice thank you to the Mayor's office as well. And it should be easy to contact our elected officials, they should not be high and mighty ensconced in towers unreachable to the average Joe...or Josephine. But I will admit that the response was better than I expected.

So I have managed to tackle, one by one, these challenges to my mental well being. So for now, I am pleased and unencumbered by annoyances. I am sure it won't last long. But for now I will just relax and bask in my victory.

Amazed

I spoke to a young woman, a friend of my son, last night and she said something that has remained with me. She recently survived a forty foot fall from a waterfall. As she climbed to the top, the rocks gave way. An accident that should have killed her, and did buy her much time in the hospital and continued therapy. What she said, that struck me, was her plan to have the waterfall tattooed on her back. At first, I wondered why she would want to permanently commemorate such an event on her body. But as she raised her shirt and showed me the nasty scar that stretched across her abdomen, I realized the water fall had already left physical marks...nasty, angry, permanent marks. I didn't ask her her reasoning. But as I thought about it again this morning, I realized that the tattoo would show the beauty of the place that had drawn her to climb those rocks. Maybe even a reminder of what she had survived. A reminder of her strength.

What not to wear

First, and foremost, I am no fashion expert. I dress plain and simple...and usually dark. Clothing styles seem too young or too old for my taste. I have a much longer list of things I won't wear than what will find it's way into my closet. But this is more about the crazy stuff that drives me insane.

Animals are not fashion accessories. I hate to see someone walking around with a pet slung across an arm like a furry handbag. Personally, I think this is a form of animal cruelty.

Undergarments are meant to go under clothing...and usually aren't meant to be seen. I'm no prude, and under the right circumstance, I'm fine with a sexy outfit. There is a big difference between sexy and tacky. My biggest pet peeve in this category would be printed or colored underwear under white pants/skirts.

Next, and last, at least for this entry...shoes, or more accurately sandals. Just because you buy a size 7, doesn't mean you wear a size 7 if your foot is hanging over the edges. Are you really that hung up on your shoe size?

You don't say

When you say, "I'm just doing it for their own good." Stop immediately! You're just making an excuse for being mean.

I win

Every now and then you just have to dig your heels in and insist on what you want. Sometimes, you might just get it. I seem to get my way more than the average bear, according to the reactions of my friends. If I don't like something I say so. If someone makes the grand mistake of asking what I want, I usually have a pretty good idea...and I shoot for the moon. If they want to negotiate, I have a little wiggle room. I don't scream and cuss...people tune you out when you do. They can discount you as crazy or irrational. I talk in a calm, moderated...some would say, unemotional (cold as ice) voice. I am logical in my disagreement with them. I will use their own words against them. Give me the opportunity to write a letter, where I can carefully chose my words and it will cut like a knife. I ask for what I want and tell them why they will give it to me. A simple phrase like, "I don't think so." can go along way. You'd be surprised at the reaction when they are expecting you to nod your head and just go along.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not an argumentative person. I am not arguing just for the sake of it. Many people would not believe this, but I am generally not aggressive. I have an extroverted personality and I say what I think, but I generally am not confrontational. I let little things slip by...maybe even a few moderate things. But when something big comes along, especially if I feel like I'm being taken advantage of...or God forbid, treat me like I am stupid, look out. I'm all in, claws and teeth, going for the throat...in a nice, calm, ice cold sort of way.

Screwed

I am not feeling witty or light hearted. I don't have any interesting observations. I am here to bitch, whine and complain. Not up to it? Then go away. Offended by language? Go away. Now.

I feel like the world is biting at my ass. Everywhere I turn it seems somebody is trying to fuck with me. And I'm tired of it. Just too much bullshit from too many sources all at one fucking time. Yes, I'm pissed. I have a right to be. Strange thing is, I'm too pissed to even muster up a good cry. I'm not sure I've been here before and I find it a little scary.

I'm tired of feeling like people are taking advantage of me. I'm tired of feeling used. I'm tired of people talking to me, excuse me, at me, like I'm stupid. I'm tired of being ripped off. I'm tired of dealing with other people's bullshit. I'm tired of being manipulated. I'm tired of people not living up to their word. I'm tired of the lies and broken promises. I'm tired of jumping through hoops just to have another one placed in front of me. I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired.

And none of this has anything to do with the people I love, friend or family. It's all external. For that I can be grateful.

Green vs germs?

I have, for a while, seen commercials comparing the benefits of using reusable sponges vs paper towels. That sponges can be used over and over, and therefore more environmentally friendly. Yes, I am aware that every commercial is biased towards the advertiser's product. But it does seem logical to me. Except I worry about the sponge being clean. So throw it in the dishwasher I hear. Antimicrobial, I hear. Okay, I'm convinced...but I still can't eat my sandwich off a sponge. So I buy pick-a-size paper towels.

So now I'm seeing adds for disposable bathroom hand towels. Why use the same hand towel over and over, if you can have a fresh clean one every time? So I'm using less paper towels in the kitchen so I can use them in the bathroom?

I realize that these products are being market to two different groups. Sponges for the environmentalist, perhaps even frugal types, and the clean bathroom hand towel towards the germaphobic, obsessive compulsive types or clean freaks. I am none of this, mostly. I am not as environmentally aware as I should be, nor am I constantly worried about germs (they're everywhere no matter how much you spend to eradicate them). But I find this contradiction somewhat annoying. That annoyance is piqued every time I see the hand towel commercial. But since I am not the target audience for either of these products, nobody really cares about what I think.

Decorating advice 101

Do not place a reflective material of any kind across from the toilet.

Seems logical huh? Basic common sense? You'd be surprised.

I ran into this recently (again) in a public restroom. A hand towel/garbage receptacle was placed on the wall directly across from where I sat contemplating my outlook on life. It's polished brass surface, giving me a golden, slightly skewed, reflection of myself. I found this somewhat disconcerting but had limited options on where to gaze. Okay, I guess some forgiveness may be allowed in public facilities. Limited space to accommodate the most needs of all individuals...and all that crap.

As I mentioned previously, this was not the first time I'd ran into this somewhat uncomfortable position. I once went into a friend's bathroom, only to find myself staring at a very clear reflection of myself in the mirrored shower door...mere inches from my knees. I sat there wishing I had not turned the lights on. Could anyone possibly find this...um, comfortable, normal, interesting? When I exited the bathroom, the friend asked how I liked that mirror. Apparently it had not been his doing, but he was used to the uncomfortable reaction of his friends.

I could see how this could happen actually. The desire for a full length mirror in the bathroom with no place to hang one. Spying mirrored shower doors at the local home store, thinking what a wonderful solution. Never realizing the placement in relation to other objects in the room until sometime after the installation. The manufacturer is not going to label their box with a warning. "Do not hang directly across from toilet causing friends and family embarrassment." or "Placement across from toilet may cause endless amusement to toddlers. Manufacturer not responsible for subsequent damage or future psychotherapy."

The eyes have it

I had surgery on my second eye yesterday. I now know the procedure is called phacoemulsification.  What a difference from the first eye two weeks ago! Surgery yesterday, driving today. Eyes open. Minimal pain...no, not pain, just pressure. Like a mild headache. No tearing. No running from the light like a vampire about to perm. 


The procedure itself was a little rougher. It seems none of the pre-op meds had much of an effect...except the numbing drops. Thank God for the numbing drops. I remember the procedure in it's entirety. Minimal pain, but immense pressure. I will admit that the procedure was less uncomfortable than the recovery of the first eye. It had to be the scratched cornea that caused all the discomfort.


So now, for the first time in my life, I see 20/20. I am, however, farsighted. I can not see clearly within about four feet. This will be a new experience all together. My solution to things I can't see...get closer, no longer works. It will take time to adjust.

Being different

I love working for a company that supports diversity in the work place. It's great to be different...as long as you are different the same way they are.

Alone

I have no fear of being alone. Perhaps because I have never been alone. Perhaps because I know the difference between alone and lonely. I have been lonely...I have lonely in a room crowded with people. That does not happen so often these days. The people I chose to surround myself with, would seldom leave me undisturbed long enough for my mind to drift down such a long, dark path. I seldom see glimpses of lonely now days. I think one must conquer the fear of lonely in order to be comfortably alone.

Sense of loss

I have a strange sense of loss. The eye surgery to remove my cataracts has corrected my vision. I am no longer near sighted, at least in the left eye. The other eye will be corrected in just over a week. I have been near sighted all of my life. My glasses have been the first and last thing of every day of memory. In the near future I won't need glasses to see distant vistas...but I will forever lose my near vision. The vision I have known. They say it takes a few weeks for everything to settle. Right now I can't even see my watch with the corrected eye. I wonder how I will ever thread a needle again?

This was not elective surgery. I was very rapidly loosing my vision. Hopefully I will adjust...no hoping, I will adjust. There is little option. Just a strange sense of loss. I am not new and improved...I am new and slightly broken. But it will get better.

Eye surgery

Now that I can almost see...

I found out earlier this year that I had a hereditary form of cataracts. Fast growing, I was scheduled for surgery within months instead of years. I had the surgery on my left eye two days ago.

Prior to surgery I was extremely near sighted. Now my left eye is far sighted. I am wearing glasses with the left lens removed. Unfortunately, this is confusing my brain. I see better at distance on the left, but not 20/20 yet. I can't read on that side at all. There is a bizarre distortion and I am lacking depth perception...worse than before that is. I am extremely light sensitive. This morning I sat in the dark, wearing sunglasses, it took over an hour to get both eyes open and semi-focused.

I am  using 3 different drops, 3 times a day. One of those feels like soap. It's hard to do, but necessary. Especially since my cornea was scratched during the surgery. The right eye is scheduled 2 weeks after the first. I'm hoping it won't be so hard. At least both eyes will on the same page...far sighted.

Eye surgery

I had my surgery yesterday. I'd like to talk about it a little but I really can't see so well to type. I've pushed the screen on my laptop down onto my hands because it's too bright to look at. More later...hopefully soon.

Words

In hindsight maybe hindsight itself is a mistake--what's the point of following the trail of regret back into the past? It's not possible to chose a different path from the very one that brought me to the present, to this exact moment...

The Bone Thief
Jefferson Bass
page 59

A Mom's advice to her son on raising baby. Step one.

My promise is to not interfere unless it's life threatening. I did the best I knew how. I didn't always get it right. It's your turn now and you will too. But I have 26 years of experience that I didn't have back then. So maybe I'll have words of wisdom for you to lean against when it's 3 AM and you've been walking, bouncing and examining a screaming baby for the last two hours, and maybe not.

Relax. Take a deep breath.

Babies do not come with instructions. Yes, you can buy books. I even recommend it. But what may apply to 99 out of 100 babies, may not apply to yours. Your baby is 1 in several million. He hasn't read the books and doesn't know the rules they think he's suppose to play by. Rules, and advice, that change over time and even conflict from book to book. Listen to your instincts. Then direct questions to parents you trust. Maybe even your own, you obviously survived to adulthood. Listen to their advice...then pick and chose what seems right to you. Listen to your pediatrician. You picked one you trusted. Will you always get it right? Ha ha...no.

It may even feel that your baby is trying to frustrate you at every turn. He really isn't. That is sleep deprivation and fear. In the beginning, a baby's needs are simple...be comfortable; not wet, not dirty, not hungry, not in pain, not tired. Sounds simple. But it isn't, because you won't always be able to figure out what's wrong. And baby can't tell you, not in words...but he is trying to tell you. And will keep trying to tell you, screaming and crying, until you get it right.

Relax. Take a deep breath...and maybe a couple of Tylenol.

Mexico...the end.

We got home on time, with luggage. A nice change from last year. We even had car keys. Our flight from Chicago to Louisville was in the smallest plane I've ever been on...3 seats across.

Speaking of three...our room was on the 3rd floor of a building without an elevator. I don't know if I mentioned that. Maybe I worked off a few calories. Too much good food, too easily obtainable. But if you have a salt habit, as I do, you're in trouble. Apparently, they haven't heard of Morton salt...nothing flows from the salt shakers.

There were things about the hotel that weren't as good as last year. There were things that were better. The loud wedding reception Sunday put a big damper on my mood. I questioned if things were really off or if my expectations were too high. Having been there 14 months ago, things were not all new to me.

I still hope to go back. I have a few more adventures I want to accomplish that were not available to me this year.

Mexico...going home.

Going home today. Have to be in the lobby at 9 to catch the van back to the airport. More lines. More hurry up and wait. But for the blog, just a few more pictures...

Mexico Day 7

Sad to think about packing and flight schedules. Tomorrow will be a long, not fun, day. It takes a week to get used to being here. My minuscule Spanish comes more easily. I'm starting to roll my R's. I need longer to get past the sunburn. I wonder how long I could stay before getting bored to death...I'd like to try and find out.

We walked 5th Avenue this morning for some last minute shopping. It is really hot. I can't imagine being here in July or August. Come into the lobby, grab a drink. I'd love to go jump in the pool but I am just short of crispy and my sunscreen just doesn't seem up to the task. It's 86 degrees at 11:24 AM. The sky is blue, the sun unrelenting. By 1, I was taking my 2nd shower of the day.

The weather channel predicts rain the next 3 days...it doesn't make me feel better.






Our bed was turned down before dinner. We still only have one animal...towels must be endangered. Steve and I will be arguing over the tip.

Mexico Day 6

I've had 3 showers since yesterdays tour of the beach and I still feel like I have sand on me. Just a little more grit for the exfoliation. Appointment at 10. Yay!


How amazing. Full body exfoliation then moisturizer. She massaged my ears. That was new, but enjoyable. 45 minutes of wonderful. Purchasing a service at the spa allows you to use the facility for the day. After my treatment, I wondered about. I puzzled over the steam room and sauna...it's 90 degrees outside and plenty steamy. There are two hot tubs and two cold plunge pools...again something I'm not finding terribly inviting. But outside, there is a rain head shower in a little courtyard with a chaise lounge. I stand outside under cool running water and wash my hair.


The room was cleaned when we got back...lesson learned?


There is not enough time in the day. Breakfast, then a couple of drinks, you don't think about lunch. Then it's 2:30 so you try to eat a light lunch to make it until dinner. But everything is so good. There are certain things...fruits, vegetables, salsa, guacamole. Seafood is also pretty good, despite the sometimes odd preparation of it. One shrimp equated to 2 pieces of meat 5 inches long. I also tried octopus today. There is never room for dessert.


It was very, very hot today with not as much wind. Some clouds came rolling through but just kept going.

We have no idea what is happening in the world. It is such a weird disconnected feeling. Without internet or US news we are out of touch. Funny, they get a Korean and Italian channel.


There was a tequila tasting this evening. The sommelier taught the difference between tequila and mescal and the different varieties; blanco, reposado and anejo. Things I already knew. He gave samples of the first two, to demonstrate the difference aging makes, but he did not pour shots of the anejo. It can be very expensive and he had some pricey bottles. The one thing he taught me was how to sip tequila, you don't shoot the good stuff and he says you should only drink the good stuff.


Steve got pulled up on the stage by the entertainment committee tonight. He blames me. He said the only reason they picked him is because he was sitting with me. Just because Rosario winks and smiles every time she sees me, this is my fault? Wouldn't you know, I didn't have my camera.  


Another late night walking on the beach...and still no moon. There are probably a half dozen locals that have a new appreciation for the moon. They swear there is one.

Mexico Day 5

This morning, I finally convinced myself that I was bored and wanted to do something. Last year I had an agenda. There were things to do, places to go, adventures to be had. I doubt much has changed in 14 months, so I really don't have any need to explore. So, what to do? We headed down 5th Avenue after breakfast...made to order omelets and fresh fruit. The best fresh fruit. There are just some things that should be enjoyed while here. Destination...Cozumel. Why? Because it's there. The $48 ferry fee derailed me. Why pay $48 to cross to Cozumel for nothing but walking around? I can do plenty of that here. I've heard most things are more expensive in Cozumel because of the tour ships. So I decided to stay on this side of Mar Caribe.

We eventually found ourselves whiling away the afternoon in a poolside cabana sampling drinks brought cheerfully by a fantastic server/bartender. Lunch was of a liquid variety. After enough frosty drinks you are not hungry. I hate to think of the calories I've consumed in fruit juice.

I'm recognized by the staff. I think the tattoos make me easy to spot. They remember me.

Back to the room at 4PM and it hasn't been made up for the day. We've not had near the service we did last year from housekeeping. Only one towel animal so far. We had a menagerie last year.

I made my spa appointment for tomorrow...sugar and salt exfoliation. My semi-pinkness gives me pause. But I'm going for it.

We walked out on the beach, collecting some shells, sightseeing and stubbing my toes. Damn rocks on the beach south of the pier.

Our driver had explained that sand had been pumped from the ocean to add 50 meters to the beach. They were sandbagging this area last year. That rock, the one that removed skin from my toe, likely was a piece of old coral reef, or so appeared after I quit cussing and looked at it. I brought home a pocketful of shells and I wonder how long they had been at the bottom of the sea. We walked along an area where the sand was piled in a two foot drift above the tide line. The edges of shells peeking out from the layers of the sand...I felt like an archeologist.


Housekeeping finally showed up...when the door was locked. She jiggled the door until the lock released. Steve quickly pulled the blanket over our heads which directly led to my case of giggles. Which I'm guessing is what caused her to hesitate then back out the door. Have you heard me giggle?

Mexico...what day is this?

I have to stop and try to count. Day 4, Wednesday...I think. One day flows over to another. No time. No dates.  I have done more nothing than I think I ever have without being sick. Pool, beach, food, drink, sleep. I am sleeping a little later each day. The beds here are marvelous, soft yet firm, made up with crisp white linens and fluffy comforter. I wish I could duplicate it at home.












I find my happy place. I love the hammock on the balcony. I swing back and forth listening to the sound of the waterfall. I wake to a sound...not realizing that I was even falling asleep. It's not even 11 AM and I'm napping. I keep telling myself that I should be bored, but I'm not. I don't understand. This so unlike me.

Sometime between 1 and 2, it seems we always run for the glorious air conditioning of our room. Few spaces here are truly cooled. I envy the ability to have so many open spaces...but it does get hot.

You do this because everything you're wearing is wet, your drunk and you need a nap or just because the room is way cooler than anyplace else. You strip off your damp to drenched clothing, jump in a cool shower and sprawl across the bed under the ceiling fan. This is where I pretty much remain until sometime around 3.

There was a medical emergency in the lobby today. It was nice to see the fast response of the hotel staff. I don't know what happened, as I know better than to crowd around...unlike a lot of other people apparently. At least two people were involved. He was taken off in a wheelchair, she was loaded into an ambulance.

We have taken laziness to an all time high. Surrounded by gourmet food, we ordered hamburgers and fries from room service...but there was cheesecake. Just to prove my level of inactivity, I came in from the pool (trying to even out my sunburn) at 4:30 and haven't been further than the balcony. All this air conditioning, and possibly a little bit of sunburn, leads to a case of the chills this evening. What a great reason for filling up the jacuzzi tub and lighting candles.

Mexico Day 3

I ordered a mojito at the pool today. I thought of Erin...I am not a mojito fan but she makes them good. Sweet and refreshing. It is amazing how often I am reminded of the people at home by different things.

We took off for 5th Avenue for the first time today. Its a block from the hotel. It's something like 16 blocks of shopping, hotels, restaurants and entertainment. It was a good day to go, not as hot, nice wind blowing.

It's not nearly as crowded as last March. Last year this street was packed with people. Today I notice buildings, the architecture, that was hidden before. There are some very interesting buildings. Talking to the shop keepers, they say tourism has been down. Worries about violence that hasn't been seen this far south and H1N1. There are hand sanitizing liquids everywhere. The hotel even offers a H1N1 flu guarantee if you get ill within 14 days.



We wandered off the beaten path to discover sidewalks here are a challenge in themselves...different levels, different materials. It appears each establishment makes their own. You really have to pay attention. You will often find people out scrubbing the sidewalks early in the morning.

I can't blame the sidewalks for the nasty spill I almost had down this flight of stairs. I can't even blame the shot that preceded it.

We had just left the new coffee house, where I had enjoyed a shot of espresso and a chocolate truffle...making me think of Laura. Steve saved me. That would have hurt. A lot.

We wandered down to the beach and sat on one of the cabanas and watched and listened to the waves crashing on the beach. The surf seems higher than last year. So nice.

When we get back to the room, I discover I have reason to be grateful for Ginny's aloe. How did I manage to sunburn my back and the front of my thighs? Oooo crispy.

Mexico Day 2

Last night there was a wedding reception on the lawn, that green area, three stories down, between my room and the pool. It was sooooo loud!!! Even with the doors closed, the sound was overwhelming. And yet we slept. Getting up at an unreasonable hour and traveling thousands of miles will do that to you.


As I discovered last year, I was woke just after dawn, by what I have come to call the "alarm birds". On our first trip to Mexico, I thought a fire alarm was going off. They make a variety of noises, all of them loud.

I am not wearing a watch. I don't have my cell phone. The only clock I've seen in the entire place is the bedside alarm clock. This is not a place to track time. You eat when hungry. Sleep when tired. Drink when thirsty...but imagine my surprise when I ordered a drink and was told the bar was not open yet. They opened at 10AM. Hey, I'm on vacation...it's 5 o'clock everywhere. I later discovered the Lobby Bar opened at 9...just in case.

I drank my 3rd, 4th and 5th drink with lunch. It's hot out here, you have to stay hydrated. You have to appreciate lunch with a view. You just don't get this at home.





Shortly after lunch, it was nap time. It's the heat...I swear.





Later we sat out at the pool...even later we discovered Steve is capable of getting sunburned. They remind you, that you are a 1000 miles closer to the equator than anyplace in the states. Thanks to a friend, I had a bottle of aloe gel.





At the end of the day, the drink count was 8.

Return to Mexico...part 2.

We're flying north to go south, something I find totally bizarre, but it was the best option. I won't miss going through Atlanta, what a mess that was last year. Hopefully Chicago will be better. Steve was none too excited to see the chariot for our first leg of this trip...4 seats across, it's much smaller than what he has flown in before. But he made one comment and moved on. He has changed so much...in good ways. He grabbed the window seat ::pout:: but I still got to watch the sun come up over the wing.


We made our way through Chicago, stopping to grab a bite and a bicker...we can't do anything without bickering about something. Next stop Mexico!


Ahhh but there is in flight paperwork to complete for immigration and customs...damn, I forgot about this. So, I have no ink pen. I borrow one from the very nice lady sitting beside me...problem solved, right? Of course not. When we arrive, the nice, helpful, speak no English, ladies inside the terminal stop us all and tell us there is a new form...this is communicated by having the form pushed at you. Do they have pens? Of course not. This leaves me to begging to borrow a pen from other passengers that are in a hurry to get going too. I finally found a gentleman, that hovered the entire time but was willing to share his ink with me.


Sweet freedom! Playa, here I come...right after I stand in the immigration line. A new stamp in the passport, an hour or so later. Then the customs line...just a few hundred of your closest strangers. I did take the opportunity to warn people about the 2 legged vultures just waiting on the other side. Time shares are a big thing in Mexico and these people make used car salesmen look like anointed saints. They will tell you anything. As I sailed right past swatting verbal lures away like so many flies. Steve was almost snagged by the lady that proclaimed she had to verify our documents. Anyway, back to customs. You pass through screening like most airports, but at the end of stating you have nothing to declare and getting metal detected and such, you are told to push a button. This ordinary white button set in a white console. It looks so very innocent...until you push it and the red rectangle appears. Your life as you know it has changed forever. Nah, not really. But you are kindly directed towards inspectors wearing rubber gloves and are directed to open your luggage. This is Mexico's idea of random screening. When you push that white button, you get a green light or the dreaded, you're going to be later than you thought, red light. Fortunately, this is only a search of your possessions...and those of anyone traveling with you. So I suggest you know your travel companions. The inspectors only had issue with one item in my luggage...he wanted my Pepperidge Farms chocolate chip cookies. I wasn't about to argue, but he tucked them inside and sent us on our way...through the sea of vultures.

We made it outside where the sun is turned to high and located our transportation. After last year, I'd learned my lesson and paid extra for private transport. No waiting for everybody to get their act together. Finally we are on the road to heaven...is it supposed to be this hot?

It's a 45 minute ride to Playa from Cancun. Thankfully the air conditioning in our van works...that is not always guaranteed. The Royal is a shining oasis on a stretch of white sand and blue sea to tired eyes. Guess what? Room isn't ready...they had a late check out. Okay, the Royal is really good at trying to make things right. We are given our bracelets and sent to the Lobby Bar. Where a wonderful bartender made us absolutely incredible cold drinks. Including the best margarita Steve says he has ever had. I wish we had gotten his name. I think I would have stalked him all week. 

About an hour, and three drinks later, we are shown to our room. We are assured it is a quiet room, the last one on a hall on the third floor...in a building without an elevator. But it looks promising. One of the most annoying things last year was the foot traffic, rolling carts, outside our door. There is no reason for anyone to be outside our room. A quick look around, very similar to last year, as expected...except no chaise lounge. Steve is disappointed, it was his favorite place to read. But there is one pleasant surprise...we have an ocean view.

Return to Mexico

Getting up at 3 AM is crazy, especially when your alarm is set for the god awful hour of 4. But now days you have to arrive at the airport so far ahead of your flight...flight is at 6. I am excited to be going back, it's been 14 months. I think I left apart of me there last time. Arrival to destination 12 hours. God help us all.

An endless circle.

My son is going to have a son, he's going to be a father. My other son will be an Uncle. I will be...

I have had a while to try this new identity on for size and I still can't seem to get it to fit...grandma, mamaw, nana. I don't know any of those people. This isn't about age...hello, 48. I will be 50 in twenty months, 2 days. It's about identity. I have been a daughter, a wife, a mom. I have been a student, an employee and a housewife. Being the mother of a child with a child shouldn't be all that different from being the mother of the child. I had never been the mother of a child before the first child came along but I never thought about the role. I just accepted it. If you followed that logic, here's your A...that and $5 will get you coffee at Starbucks.

But as I write out that twisted tangle of logic, a light illuminates darkened corners. That is why I write. Sometimes, magical things happen at unexpected moments.

It isn't about the age or the title, one that will most likely be chosen for me by my son and I will have little control over, it's about the life changing event...that I had absolutely no control over. There will be this new little family member. He will change everything. Every holiday, every occasion, every thought. He will change everyone of us. He may even change how we see each other. Scarier still he may change how I see myself...nah.

May

Happy May Day. And for some, Happy Derby Day...may your hangover be mild tomorrow morning. May you find your car, your shoes and your wallet. If was a wet one. May marks the beginning of Summer despite what the calendar says. Soon gardens will be tilled, flowers pots will be planted, kids will be out of school...not all of these things make me happy. It is the month to remember Mom. Actually, that would be next weekend. You have been officially reminded.

Overbooked

I have a pretty busy life. That is my choice. I don't do well with bored. Idle hands and all that. But every now and then, as life would have it, something unexpected pops up into the middle of my busy life and I find myself scrambling.

Back in January, I was dreaming of warn white sand beaches, tropical sunshine and well, heaven. So I scheduled a week and a half off from work and booked a trip to Mexico. We'd gone last year, and was planning the return trip before we even left the country to come home. I was happy. I was excited. I had months to wait, but that was okay. It's alway good to have something on the horizon to look forward to.

In February, I made a trip to the eye doctor...one of those maintenance things required to keep me in good(?) running shape. I do this every two years. Surprise! I have cataracts. I have what? I'm too young for cataracts! Yes, I am told, this is unusual. If I had a dime for every time a doctor told me that...

Anyway, long story short...a few more trips, a lot of whining and complaining on my part, as this is all highly inconvenient, I am told I will need eye surgery. More whining, cue the violins. More doctor appointments, testing, prodding, poking, etc. Surgery gets scheduled, along with follow up visits, six appointments at four locations over the course of three weeks...nine days after I get home from Mexico. That means, count it up boys and girls, a trip out of the country and two surgeries (both eyes) in a month.

So now, my brain is swimming in self pity, tempered with utter exuberance...that makes me one slightly confused and highly over whelmed individual. I need to start making lists. Who am I kidding? I need to reorganize the multiple lists I've already started into some form of helpful stream of...what? Where am I?

Oh, who cares, I'll soon be drinking fruity drinks with the smell of sun tan oil, the sound of waves and cabana boys that want to get the senora a drink...no pity here.

Choices

I was asked, "If given the choice would you rather be smart or pretty."

I answered, "I would prefer to be interesting."

"That isn't one of the choices."

I replied, "That is what makes me interesting. I refuse to confine myself to the choices that other people limit me to."

I was assured, at the very least, that I would never be boring.

I can live with that.