I don't know what it is with me lately. I'm in a blue funk which doesn't make sense. The weather is gorgeous, I have cool new wheels to take me on even the most mundane errand, all my bills are paid, and my health (except for a few allergy symptoms) is great. It has just been impossible for me to get motivated these last four or five days.
Well, the health being great might not be that true. Working Saturday night, that swoop move with one of my early trays alerted me to a definite lower back pull. How did that happen?? I swear, I don't recall any movement that produced that effect. Nevertheless, I opted for a cart for most of the rest of the evening. And yesterday's standstill on any work production at home seems to have alleviated that "old people walk" I adopted upon my first waking and walking moments. Today I'll tackle the storm windows that usually cause that very same sensation upon completion. I'm going to try to lift the windows differently to protect my aging back this year!
Actually I have to score a 6 foot ladder from a pal before I can begin today's festivities. See, my neighbor and landlady has taken a petty stance on my use of her things so I won't be strolling next door and opening up her shed to use that conveniently located ladder I'd like to use. The story of how I came to be afraid to use anything of hers is a weary tale that I'd rather not repeat on the world wide web. Can we suffice it to say that her stuff is fairly old and she's in this dream world where she thinks my doing a friend and coworker's uniform with mine is taking advantage of the laundry facilities in the basement? I haven't spoken to my former friend/current landlady for over a month since her tirade on my laundering favors. A single girl who has to rummage for enough clothes to do a load of laundry should not offer a friend who has the same uniform the kindness of a shared agitation. Lesson learned.
In addition to needing a ladder for storm windows, I guess I'm going to be needing a new lawn mower. I'd use the one the landlady left in my shed, but last year the bolt on one of the wheels kept loosening up. I'm afraid if I use it and the bolt breaks, I'll hear the echo of the laundry fiasco. "I'm not replacing that lawn mower because you are cutting your grass every six days!" ("I'm not replacing that washer and dryer because you are doing everyone's laundry.") I should probably only be cutting the grass once a month like her. Ugh. I have to bite my tongue so I don't let loose a tangent of the way that the appliances and other things in this house are old and ready for replacement whether I use them once or a hundred times. I have to shake my head and shut up about the way I've seen her 'take care' of things.
Then there's the whole awkward peeking out the window to make sure I'm not going to run into her before I even open my door to step outside. Oh yeah. That's how I want to spend my summer in The House of Old Shit. I'm verklempt. I like it here, even if the appliances and antique efficiency of the furnace do cost more. The rent is low enough to make this a pretty good deal. It's close to work, friends, family. I'm still deciphering my goals, but I'm pretty sure this is not my final destination. This was the bridge to my coming back from living on the West Coast and finding myself back here in the Midwest. I don't want to stand still on that bridge and watch the swirling water below anymore. I need a plan.
I've become dispassionate about fixing things up around here. I was all set to paint the kitchen after a long arduous process of refacing the kitchen cabinets, but I've lost my verve to do so now. Adding to the mix of mixed up emotions is the funniest thing that happened when my former landlady called me to tell me that the upper half of the Victorian house I rented before I left the Midwest was currently vacant. She didn't know where I was at with "things" and just thought maybe I'd be interested. She explained that they loved me like family and if I wanted the place there would be no security deposit required. See, that's the kind of renter I am. I've never rented a house without painting, refinishing, improving something! I wondered if Sandy's call about the vacancy was divine intervention or some cruel trick by the devil. In the end, I had to pass on the offer. It wouldn't be good for me to try to hurry up this process of getting back down that way. And we are gearing up on the best time of the year at work. I guess I need to ride out the summer and look into the next phase while I make some money to afford that plan.
Maybe my lazy attitude comes from the indecision over what the hell I'm even doing. I'm not even close to where I thought I'd be when I was in my hopeful 20's. I hobbled through a failing marriage for the better part of my 30's. You damn sure know that I want to make more of my 40's. It's always something. I hope I find that something sometime soon.
Why is it now that I've secured the ladder from my friend, washed my car, and actually eaten lunch so that I'm ready for an afternoon of work that the clouds have rolled in and the hail has started? Oh, and one more question. Why is that when you have a tv dinner with corn, no matter how hard you try, at least one kernel always ends up in the potatoes? I hate when that happens!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
The Matriarch
It’s a funny thing about death. Dying affords the dead more respect than at any other time in their lives. I don’t understand why that’s true, but I know it is. We haven’t had a family Christmas that garnered every member of the family’s presence for several years. And our Brady Bunch gang can’t set aside their individual lives to honor our parents’ wedding anniversary, even though we all stood up for the blessed event. Nobody’s birthday is important enough to command attendance by all. But when funeral arrangements for a matriarch are made, children and grandchildren and great grandchildren rearrange their schedules to be in the little church where the parents and a daughter were married, where other beloved family members were honored in death, and where we have spent so many Sunday mornings, Christmas Eves, and Easter mornings.
Miss Blanche, as the pastor insisted on calling my grandmother throughout the memorial, died in her sleep at the hospital only days before she was scheduled to move into an assisted living facility. I don’t believe she wanted to live that way, and if you push me on the matter, I will tell you that I believe she willed herself to die. She was a strong and independent woman whose health and balance was failing. She couldn’t live at home anymore, at 86. Truthfully, I think she lived an ideal life. It’s not that it was a perfect life, a pain-free life, but it was a full life. And she had what most of us pray for in her passing; that age old wish for a quiet dying in our sleep. (As an aside, I’ve always thought my luck at never being in a hospital is going to bring me a horrible death where limbs and maybe even a head get ripped off).
The last time I saw my grandmother, she was in the hospital recovering from a blood infection and pneumonia. She had fallen and hurt her leg prior to the hospitalization, too. Her door was closed when I arrived, so I knocked lightly. A nurse answered, “yes” as though I should I come in. The sight that greeted me is one I could live without. They had changed her bed, and were in the process of getting her back in bed. My gram was not a large lady, but her muscles were weak and she was of no help in maneuvering her frame at that point. Because of this, the nurses employed a hammock type lift to move and hold her while they remade the bed. As they swung the hammock on a crane (as it were), she wailed like a child with every movement. I don’t know what was causing her pain, but I wished the nurse would have answered, ‘We just need a minute’ to my tapping at the door.
I busied myself looking at the flowers and photos that other family had left for her during the awkward lapse of time that it took to situate her. After they settled her into her bed again, they told her she had a visitor. She was immediately happy to see me and I was grateful she knew who I was, for I had been warned that she was quite dehydrated and “out of it” and may not welcome me. Her voice was scarce, teeth removed, and conversing was difficult at best. But we did manage a coherent conversation in snippet phases. She was worried about her cats and knew I would sympathize with that. I tried to be reassuring and calming since she seemed so out of her element there, but as I looked at her scrawny shoulders and sunken face, I marveled at how it seemed like I didn’t even know this woman. She looked so unlike herself! Her demeanor was not that of the brash, almost cranky woman I’ve come to know. So strange to see her this way…
She was tired and needed to rest, but I guess somewhere in her clouded thoughts she did not want to be rude. She finally looked at me with big doe eyes and blurted, “You need to get to bed now!” I stifled a giggle, and managed an only slightly amused look on my face. “Oh! Okay." I said with a tickle. I leaned in and kissed her cheek, told her to listen to the doctors, and said that I’d be in to see her again later in the week. As fate would have it, I caught a cold and didn’t want to visit her while ill so that was the last time I saw her.
However, I think my gram would be pleased (was pleased!) to know that her passing brought every last one of her immediate family to one place to say goodbye to her. I mentally checked off the list of star alignments and worlds that had to collide to force this unprecedented event. The roll call was impressive. The wayward child who left his family in the lurch and watched his own parents take care of them was present, for what I assume was a desire to try to make peace with his mother. The granddaughter who lost both of her own parents too early in life hopped a jet to prove that there is some shred of her heart left where her mother’s mother still matters. The grandchildren she took in at different times for different reasons came to shed a tear for the best part of a family that they’ve ever known. The three loyal grandsons, the step-grandchildren, the nieces, and the favorite son who hadn’t slept all week in the terror of laying his mother to rest—all of them were present for the final goodbye to the woman who was the glue of the family for so many years.
And while the occasion was somber, I still found my overwhelming emotion to be that of wonder. I watched the people I’ve prayed with, laughed with, fought with, and called “family” for the last two decades carry themselves through this event in their own ways. I sat pensively in the front row of the church as the congregation was dismissed from the back to the front to pay its individual last respects to the white-haired woman lain out before us. To explain the strange configurations of our family is daunting. The nieces who claimed my stepfather as their guardian growing up, the man who is their half-brother who called his grandmother “Ma” and the cousins who lived without the father, lost their mother, and leaned further on their father’s mother in their time of need: these are just a few of the results of fate and the crazy world in which we live. It’s confusing, I know. Watching each family pass through for a final goodbye was heartbreaking, yes, but also incredibly wondrous. Six degrees of separation… our family has certainly broken approximately 180 degrees of separation. I can’t say how we all came to be a family, but I know its casting director had to think a lot harder about this conglomeration than he did about the Brady Bunch.
The mother and grandmother, friend and aunt was at rest. The family was in angst. All showed up. All made the effort to be kind to one another. That’s no small feat in my family. Death commands the attention, if only for a moment, of even the hardest hearts. Rest in peace, Gram…we will miss you.
Miss Blanche, as the pastor insisted on calling my grandmother throughout the memorial, died in her sleep at the hospital only days before she was scheduled to move into an assisted living facility. I don’t believe she wanted to live that way, and if you push me on the matter, I will tell you that I believe she willed herself to die. She was a strong and independent woman whose health and balance was failing. She couldn’t live at home anymore, at 86. Truthfully, I think she lived an ideal life. It’s not that it was a perfect life, a pain-free life, but it was a full life. And she had what most of us pray for in her passing; that age old wish for a quiet dying in our sleep. (As an aside, I’ve always thought my luck at never being in a hospital is going to bring me a horrible death where limbs and maybe even a head get ripped off).
The last time I saw my grandmother, she was in the hospital recovering from a blood infection and pneumonia. She had fallen and hurt her leg prior to the hospitalization, too. Her door was closed when I arrived, so I knocked lightly. A nurse answered, “yes” as though I should I come in. The sight that greeted me is one I could live without. They had changed her bed, and were in the process of getting her back in bed. My gram was not a large lady, but her muscles were weak and she was of no help in maneuvering her frame at that point. Because of this, the nurses employed a hammock type lift to move and hold her while they remade the bed. As they swung the hammock on a crane (as it were), she wailed like a child with every movement. I don’t know what was causing her pain, but I wished the nurse would have answered, ‘We just need a minute’ to my tapping at the door.
I busied myself looking at the flowers and photos that other family had left for her during the awkward lapse of time that it took to situate her. After they settled her into her bed again, they told her she had a visitor. She was immediately happy to see me and I was grateful she knew who I was, for I had been warned that she was quite dehydrated and “out of it” and may not welcome me. Her voice was scarce, teeth removed, and conversing was difficult at best. But we did manage a coherent conversation in snippet phases. She was worried about her cats and knew I would sympathize with that. I tried to be reassuring and calming since she seemed so out of her element there, but as I looked at her scrawny shoulders and sunken face, I marveled at how it seemed like I didn’t even know this woman. She looked so unlike herself! Her demeanor was not that of the brash, almost cranky woman I’ve come to know. So strange to see her this way…
She was tired and needed to rest, but I guess somewhere in her clouded thoughts she did not want to be rude. She finally looked at me with big doe eyes and blurted, “You need to get to bed now!” I stifled a giggle, and managed an only slightly amused look on my face. “Oh! Okay." I said with a tickle. I leaned in and kissed her cheek, told her to listen to the doctors, and said that I’d be in to see her again later in the week. As fate would have it, I caught a cold and didn’t want to visit her while ill so that was the last time I saw her.
However, I think my gram would be pleased (was pleased!) to know that her passing brought every last one of her immediate family to one place to say goodbye to her. I mentally checked off the list of star alignments and worlds that had to collide to force this unprecedented event. The roll call was impressive. The wayward child who left his family in the lurch and watched his own parents take care of them was present, for what I assume was a desire to try to make peace with his mother. The granddaughter who lost both of her own parents too early in life hopped a jet to prove that there is some shred of her heart left where her mother’s mother still matters. The grandchildren she took in at different times for different reasons came to shed a tear for the best part of a family that they’ve ever known. The three loyal grandsons, the step-grandchildren, the nieces, and the favorite son who hadn’t slept all week in the terror of laying his mother to rest—all of them were present for the final goodbye to the woman who was the glue of the family for so many years.
And while the occasion was somber, I still found my overwhelming emotion to be that of wonder. I watched the people I’ve prayed with, laughed with, fought with, and called “family” for the last two decades carry themselves through this event in their own ways. I sat pensively in the front row of the church as the congregation was dismissed from the back to the front to pay its individual last respects to the white-haired woman lain out before us. To explain the strange configurations of our family is daunting. The nieces who claimed my stepfather as their guardian growing up, the man who is their half-brother who called his grandmother “Ma” and the cousins who lived without the father, lost their mother, and leaned further on their father’s mother in their time of need: these are just a few of the results of fate and the crazy world in which we live. It’s confusing, I know. Watching each family pass through for a final goodbye was heartbreaking, yes, but also incredibly wondrous. Six degrees of separation… our family has certainly broken approximately 180 degrees of separation. I can’t say how we all came to be a family, but I know its casting director had to think a lot harder about this conglomeration than he did about the Brady Bunch.
The mother and grandmother, friend and aunt was at rest. The family was in angst. All showed up. All made the effort to be kind to one another. That’s no small feat in my family. Death commands the attention, if only for a moment, of even the hardest hearts. Rest in peace, Gram…we will miss you.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Change is Good
"Change is good" is apparently the slogan for the new '07 Nissan Altima. The commercial begins with a nice-looking chick driving her friends (who are in the back seat) in her new Altima. She's pointing out all the great features of her new ride, and the friends are duly impressed. She slows down to a waiting man, who is the dorkiest thing you've ever seen. "AND THERE'S MY MAN!!" she cries to her friends. The friends exchange looks like they cannot believe this is her boyfriend. After all, her tastes seemed pretty refined only a moment ago. When the boyfriend gets in, he's a totally different person--a very handsome man who looks confident and happy. The announcer says, "Change is good."
This makes me giggle because, well, I just bought a Nissan Altima. And I can assure you, change is good! I didn't get an '07 model, I got a used '02, but the change from my '97 Dodge Avenger with 175,000 miles on it is GOOD! This car is beautiful, probably the prettiest car I've ever owned. It's a sage green metallic color with lots of new technology I've never had in a car of mine. It has two trip odometers, distance to empty, mpg monitor, and other really fun stuff. It's got radio and cruise controls on the steering wheel (which really makes you rethink how you hold the wheel, let me tell you)! I splurged and had a sunroof put in. I felt a little spoiled doing that, but I am soooo glad I had it done! It's a beautiful sunroof. I've only had one other car that had one, and it was also after factory and just a pop-up. This is power and it's simply wonderful. Now all I need is a reason for a good old-fashioned road trip to really get to know my car!
Another change that was good this week is my substitute teaching experience. In March I long-termed for a woman who had a baby. The classes were undisciplined, destroying school property, leaving the room without permission, swearing uncontrollably...a complete nightmare. The week after that, I took a class for a guy who had knee surgery. His class was worse than the new mom's class! He allows the kids to eat in his classroom (which is carpeted) in order to become "friends" with them and ensure that they "like" him. I call bullshit. It's district policy to allow only water in clear bottles in the classroom. They leave wrappers, soda cans, sticky sucker sticks, spills on the desk, and crunchy snacks on the floor to be stepped on and ground into the carpet. One day of this and I became the food police, abolishing any and all munching while I was there. "But Mr. Casey lets us...." I'm not Mr. Casey, now am I?
I had students walk out on me because I took their snacks, kids who wrote on desks about how much of a bitch I am, girls who called me a bitch as they walked away from my "no" answer to their request to go to the bathroom. (Another school policy is that they use the restroom between classes and not during). Talk about having to choose your battles. The day I'm allowing students to grumble, "Bitch!" as they walk away from me is the day I need to rethink using my teaching license as a substitute teacher.
I truly gave some long hard thought to the students of this school district. I thought I'd perhaps take my name off of this school's sub list and go to some other area schools. If nothing else, I wanted to see if the other schools were allowing such disrespect and insubordination in their schools! Holy shit! I wouldn't be going anywhere for a month and I wouldn't be able to sit if I did some of the things these kids did and said to me. When did swearing at teachers and walking out of a classroom become acceptable? I told both the principal and vice-principal I was aghast at the behaviors.
However, with the end of the school year approaching and the tourist season gearing up at the restaurant, I concluded I would let it ride for now. In the fall I will explore other school districts. The bitch is...I can walk to this high school, walk home for lunch, and go back. It's a cheap transportation day, though maybe with my new ride, I'll look at some of the farther-reaching school districts (snicker, snicker). And I subbed yesterday for a guy who I consider a casual friend. We have coaching track in common, and we used to hang out when I long-termed for a colleague who was out for almost a year and a half with cancer. His classes were well-behaved and disciplined. Some of the same kids who have been complete assholes in those other classes were angels in his room! Well, now... Yesterday's experience told me quite a bit about the other teachers. I guess I knew this, but I wondered if part of the problem in this school district was the lax discipline from the higher powers. I'm not sure that it isn't part of the problem, rather I learned that if you are a good teacher, your classroom discipline can override anything that might happen if you referred it to those inept higher powers. Kudos to Mr. B!! You rock! What a difference a day makes.
Yep. The verdict is in. Change is good.
This makes me giggle because, well, I just bought a Nissan Altima. And I can assure you, change is good! I didn't get an '07 model, I got a used '02, but the change from my '97 Dodge Avenger with 175,000 miles on it is GOOD! This car is beautiful, probably the prettiest car I've ever owned. It's a sage green metallic color with lots of new technology I've never had in a car of mine. It has two trip odometers, distance to empty, mpg monitor, and other really fun stuff. It's got radio and cruise controls on the steering wheel (which really makes you rethink how you hold the wheel, let me tell you)! I splurged and had a sunroof put in. I felt a little spoiled doing that, but I am soooo glad I had it done! It's a beautiful sunroof. I've only had one other car that had one, and it was also after factory and just a pop-up. This is power and it's simply wonderful. Now all I need is a reason for a good old-fashioned road trip to really get to know my car!
Another change that was good this week is my substitute teaching experience. In March I long-termed for a woman who had a baby. The classes were undisciplined, destroying school property, leaving the room without permission, swearing uncontrollably...a complete nightmare. The week after that, I took a class for a guy who had knee surgery. His class was worse than the new mom's class! He allows the kids to eat in his classroom (which is carpeted) in order to become "friends" with them and ensure that they "like" him. I call bullshit. It's district policy to allow only water in clear bottles in the classroom. They leave wrappers, soda cans, sticky sucker sticks, spills on the desk, and crunchy snacks on the floor to be stepped on and ground into the carpet. One day of this and I became the food police, abolishing any and all munching while I was there. "But Mr. Casey lets us...." I'm not Mr. Casey, now am I?
I had students walk out on me because I took their snacks, kids who wrote on desks about how much of a bitch I am, girls who called me a bitch as they walked away from my "no" answer to their request to go to the bathroom. (Another school policy is that they use the restroom between classes and not during). Talk about having to choose your battles. The day I'm allowing students to grumble, "Bitch!" as they walk away from me is the day I need to rethink using my teaching license as a substitute teacher.
I truly gave some long hard thought to the students of this school district. I thought I'd perhaps take my name off of this school's sub list and go to some other area schools. If nothing else, I wanted to see if the other schools were allowing such disrespect and insubordination in their schools! Holy shit! I wouldn't be going anywhere for a month and I wouldn't be able to sit if I did some of the things these kids did and said to me. When did swearing at teachers and walking out of a classroom become acceptable? I told both the principal and vice-principal I was aghast at the behaviors.
However, with the end of the school year approaching and the tourist season gearing up at the restaurant, I concluded I would let it ride for now. In the fall I will explore other school districts. The bitch is...I can walk to this high school, walk home for lunch, and go back. It's a cheap transportation day, though maybe with my new ride, I'll look at some of the farther-reaching school districts (snicker, snicker). And I subbed yesterday for a guy who I consider a casual friend. We have coaching track in common, and we used to hang out when I long-termed for a colleague who was out for almost a year and a half with cancer. His classes were well-behaved and disciplined. Some of the same kids who have been complete assholes in those other classes were angels in his room! Well, now... Yesterday's experience told me quite a bit about the other teachers. I guess I knew this, but I wondered if part of the problem in this school district was the lax discipline from the higher powers. I'm not sure that it isn't part of the problem, rather I learned that if you are a good teacher, your classroom discipline can override anything that might happen if you referred it to those inept higher powers. Kudos to Mr. B!! You rock! What a difference a day makes.
Yep. The verdict is in. Change is good.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Winter Hiatus
Wow! Two months since my last post. I should be ashamed. And I am. I have lots of good excuses though; like teaching nearly everyday of March while holding down my waitress job too, researching and finally buying a new car (just this week, and I don't pick it up until Monday), being on vacation, and generally feeling those end-of-winter blahs. Yep. I have a laundry list of reasons for not writing. It's not that there weren't some great blog inspirations over the last two months, rather my brain was not in drive where the writing is concerned. I hope that Spring peeking around the corner will be the fuel that kicks my brain back into the writing mode. There's gonna be blogs, people. Even if they suck!
I have a whole list of topics jotted on a piece of scrap paper. It makes me almost feel like a creative writer type. You know, those famous writers who get great ideas and jot them on a cocktail napkin and tuck them into a coat pocket and find them the next time they put the coat on? A light bulb goes off, and they've written just enough to remind themselves what brilliant idea had flown through their mind at that particular moment. Yeah, I have a list of those. If I can't find anything entertaining to yammer about, that's my pot o' gold. I promise to dip into it if I come up empty in the next few weeks.
Meanwhile, accept my apologies. You four readers deserve so much more! I'm feeling blessed and optimistic. Winter is almost gone, life is good, I am healthy. Writings will follow.
I have a whole list of topics jotted on a piece of scrap paper. It makes me almost feel like a creative writer type. You know, those famous writers who get great ideas and jot them on a cocktail napkin and tuck them into a coat pocket and find them the next time they put the coat on? A light bulb goes off, and they've written just enough to remind themselves what brilliant idea had flown through their mind at that particular moment. Yeah, I have a list of those. If I can't find anything entertaining to yammer about, that's my pot o' gold. I promise to dip into it if I come up empty in the next few weeks.
Meanwhile, accept my apologies. You four readers deserve so much more! I'm feeling blessed and optimistic. Winter is almost gone, life is good, I am healthy. Writings will follow.
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